Ironman Training Is Hard

I'm writing this using the Blogger app on my phone...so forgive me now if I do something weird here. Haha.

I'm waiting in the parking lot of Solers in Helotes for Linda (she got held up at swim tryouts - I think I've mentioned once or twice that Linda is a high school swim coach and that I'm lucky enough to get her to critique my stroke too!) so that we can do our final bike/run brick workout of the "race prep" phase before we go into taper mode for Ironman Texas. We have a 20 mile run tomorrow and then we start scaling it back for 3 weeks before the race.

I can't believe it's here. Just like for the taper for Ironman Arizona in November, I'm ready to race NOW and I don't want to wait another 3 weeks. But I know the taper will make me stronger.

First though, this training breaks you down. I have to post this, not particularly for anyone reading it, but for myself to remember, that Ironman training is hard.

It builds and builds over months, you have highs and lows, but you train every day, and a lot of those sessions are really tough either mentally or physically. I'm fortunate to have a coach who pushes me to exceed my own expectations - I don't know how she knows what I can do, but almost every time I look at a workout and say "she's crazy, I can't hit those times" I get proven wrong. Each time that happens, I get a little more confidence.

Until... That breaking point where everything starts to hurt. You're cranky and mean and tired and spacy. And absent - your family starts to really miss you and can't help being annoyed about it. And then after a couple of 20 hour weeks in a row, you go out for a run one day and the adductor (inner thigh) that has been saying hello for weeks finally tells you NO. And then you panic a little bit, and Coachie tells you to shut it down and only swim for the rest of the week - let it rest and heal.

And while you're feeling like you're in this alone, you get on Facebook and see that everyone in your training group is feeling it too. "Anyone else falling apart?" Yes, all of us are. It's to be expected. And it's happening at exactly the right time.

One week of resting and a magical sports massage later (I climbed off the table and immediately recognized how my legs "should" feel, that is, no pain or discomfort of any kind, the first time I have felt this in at least 6 weeks), and I'm ready to hit the road with Linda and get in another strong session.

And what is the reward? Yesterday, a coworker asked Shelly, is it hard? "Yes, it hurts. A lot." How do you feel when you cross the finish line? With tears in her eyes, Shelly said, "it's the most amazing feeling in the world. There's nothing like it." I can't wait.

I typed all this from my phone with thumbs. Pretty impressive, right? :)