Wow, the last three weeks has been rough and I'm so happy it's over. Usually I would get a recovery week after two weeks, but during this phase of the training (Ironman specific training, they call it) we had three hard weeks in a row. I have been feeling under the weather for the past few days, so yesterday and today seemed extra difficult. Yesterday's workout consisted of a 71 mile bike ride, followed by a 3 mile run. I experienced a "jacked up" stomach for a significant part of the bike ride and was quite surprised that I lasted the entire time! My typical M.O. would be to stop short, or quit altogether and chalk it up to feeling crappy, but this training has been different. It could be that Tracy and I are in it together (and she wouldn't quit), or it could be that I have finally decided to push the limit! I think it's a combo of both. So now we get to the run today...
Our training program states that we should've done a 3 hour run today (our longest of the 24 weeks), but Tracy and I decided that a 15 mile run would not test our mental strength--hello, UNDERSTATEMENT!! We decided (in all of our wisdom) that an 18-20 mile run would better simulate the suffering endured during Ironman--and suffer, we did! Right from the very start I had a side ache that would not go away--unless of course, I stopped running (not an option). My plan was to turn around at mile 9, but without knowing exactly where that was, I missed it by about a quarter of a mile. Knowing I would need to re-fill my water bottle (for the third time), I timed it perfectly to fill it up at a middle school on the way back. As I approached the school I was devastated to see the gate shut--and locked! Who locks up a middle school on the weekend?! As I frantically scanned the school to see how to get to the fountain of youth (water is life on a run that long), I obviously didn't notice the damaged, raised manhole cover that sits right in the middle of the running trail. I tripped, big toe leading the way, and almost went down for the count. I stopped--only momentarily--and then began running again because there is NO STOPPING in Ironman. "Suck it up," I said to myself, "there is no better way to train for suffering, than by suffering!" The next place to stop for water was 2 miles up the path. I would need to ration what seemed like drips left at the bottom of my bottle for about 24 more minutes. Tracy, who is a much faster runner, was somewhere behind me, as she was able to get in 21 miles in the same amount of time. As I approached the 15.5 mile mark (where there's a park--and a fountain) I turned around and saw Tracy--suffering just like I was! The way Tracy described this same moment (later, while we were sprawled on the living room floor immediately following our run) was that when she approached me and asked how I was doing, my response was a whimper! I'm pretty sure that I was whimpering for the last 3 miles of that run! The good news is that I never stopped (minus the 30 second pause when I tripped). This 17.5 mile run was an excellent test in mental fortitude--something you can't be without during an Ironman race.
This next week is a recovery week--and I have never felt more in need of something.
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