Tri RobbyB Tri :: Mind Games

Unknown to me, it was 85° out with a dewpoint of 68. Good conditions for a interval run -- NOT! My body told me so about four-tenths of a mile into my second of three mile intervals.

I struggled through the first one and significantly missed my scheduled pace of 6:30/mile. Immediately starting the second I felt weak. I fought off the overwhelming need to stop for only so long. I caved at 0.51 miles and rested, fighting for any breath I could manage.

And then when I convinced myself to start up again, my legs didn't respond. Empty and weak, I fought to continue running, no matter what the pace. That's when I got a touch dizzy and felt my face get flush with heat. I stopped my watch and quit the workout and started walking home, overheated and frustrated.

After I cooled down and thought about what I was doing to myself, I looked again at the training paces and corresponding marathon goal pace and realized my mind was writing checks the body simply couldn't cash. Why did I ever think that a 3:23 marathon was possible? Some day maybe, just not now.

So I'm retooling and re-timing. With a new goal and set of paces, I'll be able to meet my training times (hopefully), which keeps from getting frustrated mentally, and best yet, allow my body to see another week. I should've done it after the first week, but I blamed the blisters and not the pace. Let's hope the next 11 weeks works out.

Tapering makes me a bit jittery. I'm at work, bouncing my leg, totally distracted by one thing, then the next. And the storms last night don't help.

At 3 AM, Kris is standing by the window, silhouetted by the lighting that is basically one continuous flash. Her Ooohs! and Ahhhs! wake me up. And then we lose power. We fumbled for the flashlight and a hand-crank powered radio to see what the news is. Nothing. No warning beeps or interruptions. Just music. (Since when does a radio station play music? I thought they just play commercials.)

I toss and turn for another hour. Then, just as I'm about to drift off, the power kicks on and I wake up to set the clocks back to normal. And then spend some time getting back to sleep.

The storms are still rolling through in the morning and the pool isn't open. And the lightning doesn't make it safe to run either. Especially when trees are getting struck.

I'm off to swim at lunch, and then I'll fit the run in before softball tonight. Sometime in there I still have to pack for the race and the weekend in Racine.

Taper sucks.

The plow scraping the pavement this morning woke me. Snow was forecast, but if the plows were already out before 6, that meant we got too much for me to get to the pool. Almost instantly, my body tried to convince me not to go.

"Come on...It's one day...The snows too deep. You'll never get there."

Now the alarm was going off. Disarming it, I looked out the window to check on the snow. Clear pavement. Damn, those trucks are good. The mind took over and told what the body to do:

"Hey, we've got an Alumni Swim meet in a week. You can't sleep! Let's skip the snooze and get ready so we have enough time to brush the snow off the car."

Finding the motivation has been difficult in this infant second season. The mornings are dark. The days are short. The weather is cold. All contribute to indoor, monotonous, tedious training sessions. Part of the challenge of the race is not the race itself, but all the effort that goes into getting to the starting line.

It's Monday. The Labor Day weekend is coming to a close. Summer is unofficially over. The Monona Terrace flashed "Welcome Ironman Wisconsin 2005" on its marquee. There's less than six days on the countdown clock. It's finally time for Ironman Wisconsin to begin.

A moment of clarity came last week when I realized that it's not a question of my ability to finish, but rather at what time. There are two things that can prevent me from finishing: a bike crash, or a body crash. I can control the latter; it just takes a significant amount of mental fortitude.

It will be very easy for me to push the bike too fast, feeling too strong, and not leave anything for the run. Doing so will turn the run into a walk, and while I can accept that, I do not want it to. What would be the point of running all those miles if I can't actually run in the race? I've come too far in my running, and overcome some serious obstacles to walk for 26 miles. Besides, a seven hour walk sounds really, really boring. I must be diligent on the bike to eat, drink, and relax. I can do it; I just have to remind myself.

My body is getting restless. I catch myself with my leg bouncing, my arms twitching, my fingers tapping. I've stayed in most of the weekend, and drank plenty of water. I've fallen back on sage advice from swimming as a kid for a taper: Rest, Relax, Stay out of the Sun. Another five days of really easy workouts, and then one really long training day.

T-Minus 5 days...

I walk to work each morning with a well known secret. I know that in a week, the same streets I use to get to work will be teeming with fit triathletes. The unsuspecting throng of 8 to 5ers continue their zombie walks into work. They think next week will be like this week, only one day shorter. But I know a secret. I know that men with shaved legs and women cut with furious muscles will descend on downtown Madison like they own the place.

The throng will munch on their donuts and stare at all the fit folks. The streets will go through their own makeover. Banners will go up on the light poles, bleachers will be erected, buoys placed in the lake. The throng will forget last year and ask, "What's going on?" Meanwhile, a little village forms at the Monona Terrace. Tents will showcase the latest advancements in Ford vehicles, the latest in carbon fiber, and even set up an "endless pool." More than 2,000 fit folks eagerly stop at all the tents in the village, taking a keen interest in foreign words like gel, salt tablets, hyponatremia, bricks, PRs, GTG vs. USAT. They make new friends and reacquaint with old ones. As Sunday draws near, there's something growing behind their eyes: Fear. Fear of my secret. For no matter how many times you've done it, it is never easy.

I too fear the secret. The secret is Ironman.

With each passing day, my fear grows. After each workout, I overcome the fear, increasing my confidence. I rode the loop of the bike course one final time last Saturday. I was fearful of my knee, of the gravel on the roads, of the hills. Lots of doubt raced through my head. With each passing mile, my knee strengthened, the gravel was packed and the hills climbed. Fear? What Fear?

T-Minus 10 days...

The live video feed from IM Canada is showing all the finishers from today's race. I've been watching for the past hour. The announcer works feverishly to announce each and every name of the successful racers. Some cross with their hands raised. Some cross with their hands clutching their kids, husbands, wives, dads, and moms. Some cross and immediately put their hands on their knees. Some cross and immediately collapse. Some cross and congratulate a new friend met on the course. All cross the line. All finish. All are Ironman.

In only two weeks, I aim to cross that same line. (A photo of it is atop the workouts section of RobbyB.com.) When things got tough training out on the course, I have closed my eyes, imagined that line and everyone along the finishing chute. Then, the hills don't seem so big anymore, the miles aren't as long, the legs flow freely.

It's all about that line. My hands will be raised, my smile proud, and my body tired. I will get there.

I will.

T-minus 13 days...

The small birch tree rustles in the wind above me. Gentle waves crash into the rocky shoreline. In three weeks, where I sit, watching boats play on Lake Monona, there will be a large, Civil War era cannon. The dock that extends from the shore will hold the national anthem singer and guest starter for the fourth annual Ironman Wisconsin triathlon. The wall behind me will be teeming with family, friends and curious onlookers. Triathletes will bid nervous good-byes, which returned by encouragement of strength, speed, luck, some through tears. They will make their way out to Lake Monona, ready to begin a day that will change the rest of their lives.

If they survive the day, they will reach a level of accomplishment that very few will ever know. They will be Ironmen. If they fail to reach the finish line, they will have been defeated by one of the toughest individual endurance events. But that won't stop them, they will strive to get to that finish line another day.

In three weeks, I will be attempting to join this exclusive company. I will say my own nervous good-byes, and wade into water to start my version of a 140.6 mile journey with 2,000 other people.

I've done all that I can up to this point. Though the last three weeks didn't go as planned, I can do nothing at this point to make up for it. The next three weeks will be spent resting tired muscles. I will continue to prepare my mind, crossing the finish line over and over again, and then one more time to be sure. "What the mind perceives, the body achieves."

T-Minus 21 days...

Iontophoresis is the method of using electrical current to administer drugs to the patient. From all of my research, that's the best definition I could come up with to explain the procedure succinctly. I've been through three treatments thus far. There are two pads with metal connections on the outside. One has a gauze-like pad into which the medication is applied. It is then applied directly atop to the affected area. The other is black and has a identical metal connection. This is placed on a "meaty" area of the body, usually the calf muscle for my knee. Two wires connected to a control box are then connected to the pads. The control box is literally "dialed-in" to the dosage being applied and the amperage between the two diodes. The higher the amperage, the faster the treatment is, but the burning/itching feeling is more intense. It takes me twenty minutes to go through a full dose. It takes all I can not to scratch the pads. Once the time is up, the pads are removed and I'm on my way.

A full course of treatment is 5-6 applications, with symptom relief usually felt in 3-4 applications. Because my discomfort was relatively minor, I think two treatments worked for me. The third today should help as I prepare to bike some more this week based on Sunday's successful ride.

My anxiety of the tendonitis and the ever present doubt was reduced somewhat by two realizations on Saturday's run. The first was finishing the near three-hour run. I can actually run. Doing so after a 112-mile bike is another thing, but at least I can run decently. The final forty-three minutes (miles 14-18) went by very fast. From those that have done marathons, I hear it's the next three miles: 19, 20, and 21 that are the most mentally challenging. My hope is that because there will be so many more miles behind me (132 vs. 18), that my mental state will be one of joy, rather than pain.

The second realization was when Kris (my IronSherpa) stated, "I think you're underestimating...your fitness level." She didn't know it at that time, but that simple comment made my day, week, and pretty much my whole training effort. Although, I'm sure there'll be days when I doubt it, I really am ready. I just have to go prove it. I don't know what will be tougher, the mental or the physical demands of the day.

T-Minus 26 days...

The week finished with a 3-hour ride on Sunday. In a normal week, that doesn't really sound like much, but when you throw in the events of the weekend (12 hours of drinking in a pub crawl), it was a monumental mental effort to get out there. Talking to Kristin about it, she asked if I listen to anything while out there. When she learned I didn't, she said, "That's a lot of time to be out there with your thoughts." Depending on your mood, that can be a serious situation. I've discovered reading other triathlete blogs that there's a regular dialog on long workout sessions. Your thoughts are the only thing keep you in check.

My thoughts tend to be self-defeating. During workouts they tend to be along the lines of, "Your legs hurt...You're out of breath, let's walk for a bit...This hill is really big. Are you sure we can do it?...The wind is going the other way, why are we riding into it?...We can cut this swim short; who needs to go 2000 yards anyways?" Responding with a simple, "You can do this, you can't give up," works in the short term. Once you get up the hill, touch the wall, or take the last step, reaffirming the accomplishment is ammunition for the long term. It's verifiable proof that you can and will finish.

Getting out there is another battle entirely. The alarm always goes off before you're ready, and those Sunday afternoon naps can be disastrous. Often the most difficult part of the workout happens before you get on the bike, lace up the shoes, or strap on the goggles. Working up the courage to hop on the saddle, put one foot in front of the other, or jump into the water can make or break that session.

It came to a head Wednesday. Actually, it was in my head. I had enough snot and congestion to really sock me out. Kris found me on the bed zoning out, just sitting there waiting for nothing. She took one look, and made me skip the swim and sleep for another 45 minutes. It worked wonders. I also missed the evening's workout to get some work done. By the time Thursday came around, I was fresh to finish the week. Until Sunday that is. What was supposed to be a half-hour nap ended up being an hour and fifteen minutes, and much harder to wake up from. But I won the internal battle with my mind and got out and completed the three hour ride.

In this race report from IM Hawaii, the last paragraph sums up the feeling that's been nagging me for the past three years to commit to completing the Ironman.

"After vowing to never do another Ironman again.....well, there's those last 400 meters down Alii Drive. There is simply nothing like it. And whether I get lucky enough again or good enough at some point to race here again, there will be other Ironman races. That much I know."

I don't think I'll ever get to Kona, so I can't compare, but the finishing stretch in Madison has got to be one of the best around. Just thinking about finishing is giving me goose bumps.