Welcome to My World
Wednesday, August 15, 2007
So E.L.F. has this great list posted on her site of "You know you're doing an Ironman if...", and I so related to most of her observations that I decided to re-post the relevant ones here, with some of my own sprinkled in.
This is what it's like to be me these days...
YOU KNOW YOU'RE DOING AN IRONMAN IF:
You fall asleep with thoughts of what you'll wear during Ironman dancing through your head.
You spend so much time at the pool that when you walk out of the locker room you have to look down just to be sure you remembered to put your swimsuit on.
You use toilet paper to wipe the inside of the toilet bowl and think to yourself as far as "cleaning" goes - that will do. You'll clean it 'for real' after Ironman.
At least once a day, you think about your placement in the swim start - will I start front, back, left, right, head up, head down?
Dinner time is now what used to be bedtime.
You get on the scale and find you have gained weight. You think there is no mathematical way this could be possible for you to train more and gain weight, but the numbers on the scale don't lie.
You have completely taken the laundry basket out of the clothing loop and instead just put the dirty clothes directly into the washer.
You're too awake to fall asleep but to sleepy to stay awake.
You’ve started keeping notes on flavors of bars and what they do to your stomach.
There are more dirty water bottles in your dishwasher than dirty dishes.
You are toying with the idea of asking your grandmother to stitch together two Bento Boxes because you’ve got this great Ironman-induced idea of the ultimate calorie carrying machine - a Bento Box with an “extended cab”.
You find yourself browsing the bar section in the grocery store to 'see what else is out there.'
You have a growing list of post-workout foods that you are willing to work for.
Your friend tells you how to make fried chicken with egg beaters and you won't hear a word of it because it won't have enough calories, salt, or fat to sustain you through you next workout.
Cold water has never tasted so good.
There is a certain part of your body that hurts, that doesn’t usually hurt, like your left index finger, and somehow you know it has something to do with Ironman training.
Before you make plans, you say “I have to check my schedule" -- not your work schedule or family schedule, but your workout schedule.
You feel prouder than ever, even though you haven’t really done anything yet.
It's so much fun to tell people that you're doing Ironman that you almost feel like you'll ruin it if you actually have to go and do the race.
On demand, you can rattle off the calorie, carbohydrate, and sodium content of most bars and gels.
On any given day, at least one part of your body is chafed to the point of scabbing.
Your tan lines are starting to look like a bad road map.
It used to take one cup of coffee to start your day. Now it takes four, about three times a day.
At least 20 percent of your diet is consumed in bar/gel form.
You keep hearing a voice in your head and it is saying “_______(your name), you are an Ironman."
You also keep hearing another voice in your head and it is saying, “What were you thinking? What were you thinking?”
Weekly, you wander the grocery store aisles looking for something to satiate your appetite and you eat it before you get home.
You have become a one-drink date. When you do drink, you are likely shout something about Ironman in the middle of the street.
For some reason, you sense the race experience will be the least epic thing compared to everything you’ll do in preparation for the race.
Your husband has threatened divorce if he hears one more word about Ironman. As a result, you have elected a certain friend that you can only talk about Ironman with because they too are training for Ironman and have also been threatened with divorce.
You picture your Ironman date like the end of a prison sentence. For example, you begin talking about how life will be “after September 9th…”
You fear your teeth will have a permanent tint from consuming large and consistent quantities of green, blue, and orange sports drink.
You feel fitter, but also fatter, than you’ve ever felt in your life.
You can’t remember miles 60 – 90 of the bike ride but you know you did them.
Anything shorter than a 500 in the pool makes you feel like 'why bother'.
You’ve ridden more miles than you’ve driven in the past week.
You wake up 3 pounds heavier than you went to bed as because you took so many salt tabs the day before.
You have a 7 hour workout on your schedule and even though you know it is sick and wrong, you look forward to it.
You can’t sleep at night because you are so jacked up from caffeine and sugar from the workout you probably just finished an hour earlier.
You find yourself looking at small baggies and containers wondering if you could carry crackers, salt tabs, or bars in it.
You find yourself sitting at work and after 20 minutes have gone by, you think to yourself that it’s time to eat ½ of a bar. Another 45 minutes later, you think it’s time to take a gel and then you realize that you are not sitting on your bike, you do not need to be doing your nutrition plan, but you do need to get back to work.
The term "special needs" no longer refers to a group of individuals but a bag that you might find at mile 56 of the bike, or mile 13 of the run.
If you find yourself feeling slow and having a bad workout, you think to yourself that it’s ok, because you’re training for Ironman where you will only go slow. These days, running a 9:15 pace feels like you're flying.
You have a favorite ice pack.
You feel like you took the day off because all you did was swim 3000 yards.
Your training is more limited by available time or daylight then how far you can run/bike/swim.
At any given moment you know exactly where your heart rate monitor and swim goggles are, but cannot remember for the life of you where you left you car keys or credit card (and 90 percent of the time they are in your bike’s bento box).
When booking a vacation, you ask reservation clerk about the type of stationary bike in their workout facility and how long their pool is.
Your monthly bill for vitamins, supplements, energy bars and recovery drinks surpasses your grocery bill.
You can’t use the back seat of your car because it’s filled with a bike, helmet, shoes, an air pump, wetsuit, pool bag, and running bag so you can do a workout anytime, anywhere.
You start putting the word "only" in front of phrases that normal people never would -- for example, "I only have to run 10 miles today.”
You take sick or vacation days from work to fit in long workouts.
You have nearly veered into oncoming traffic while trying to pull a salt tab out of a baggie.
You take your cell phone along on bricks so you can "catch up" with friends in-between. The only other time you call people is driving to or from the pool, or to or from the Ironman bike loop.
Your co-workers haven’t seen you with your hair or makeup done in nearly a year, because, really, what’s the point of going through all that fuss when you’ve got a workout or two left in the day?
You think about Ironman incessantly. You drive to work and think "I am doing Ironman." You go to bed and think "I am doing Ironman." You wonder what you will think about after Ironman. Maybe doing Ironman again?
Posted by Erin 7:51 AM
Good luck with your IM prep!
hmm a bento box with an extended cab. I like it.