Mission Accomplished

I finished my last post nervous that I would come back saying that for whatever I didn’t cross the finish. Well, I can now say I am an Ironman! Not only am I an Ironman, but I can say it has to be one of the greatest experiences to-date. I know you’re all thinking I’ve lost my mind but I had such a great race.  I finished in exactly 14 hours, about an hour less than I had calculated.  How?  I just kept running.  I ran 1 mile, 26 times. What made it best was how great the entire trip was.  Somehow the race flew by but I soaked up as much of it as I could.  It was genuinely fun.

The most exhausting part of Ironman isn’t always the race but the days and traveling leading up to it.  The stress of work, fitting in training, and making sure you don’t forget anything when you pack.  Traveling an entire day doesn’t exactly result in rested legs but we made our way to Louisville, Kentucky. I hoped for minimal crisis situations but as I’m falling asleep on the plane, it came to me half slumber that I forgot to pack my Garmin.  MY GARMIN.  In true fashion, I flip out.  God bless in flight wi-fi, whatsapp, a teammate who still hadn’t left Miami, and one great friend who sent hers with him.  Crisis 1 averted.  The anxiety leading up to the day of the race, packet pick-up, bike pick-up…and then bike-drop off, bags drop-off, walk here, find food I can eat, test the bike, swim practice.  It doesn’t help calm the nerves when you jump into the disgusting Ohio River and the current is so bad if you stop swimming it takes you back 25 yards.  Sigh of relief though, this isn’t the swim we’ll be facing, the current is actually in our favor.  Big pasta dinner….and it’s race morning.

We made it to Louisville!

Bike Drop Off

Louisville is unique in that it is not a mass start.  Most Ironmen, all 2K plus participants start at the same time.  Sounds thrilling right.  We got to line up before sunrise to stand in line for rolling start.  The cannon went off and 15 minutes later I was on the pier, Katy Perry playing, jumping into dirty water.  The rolling start sounds less nerve wrecking right?  Right up to when I saw rows of green capped muscles heading my way after I jumped in.  The first 45 minutes was a battle I loss with the men.  I was kicked in the rib, may have popped a boob if they were fake, swallowed Ohio River water (I may start glowing soon). I got in a few punches, threw out some elbows. Don’t get me started on the cleanliness of the river.  I made it out alive (slower than I would have liked) and into transition.  Changing tent was less chaotic than expected, changed, found my bike, and off I went.  This is where my fun started.  By this point I just wanted breakfast, cause I was starving.  I settled for a Bonk Breaker and went on my merry way.  Only 112 miles on the bike to go.  No cadence, no problems.  I only prayed to the bike gods for no mechanical problems.  Bike was going smoothly until I made a right for an out and back.  I was hitting a downhill at 40 mph.  The problem with that, what goes down in an out and back, must come up….and up we did.  I kept myself entertained, keeping track of nutrition, calculating times, speed, what mile I was at.  Time passed quickly and I was having fun.  Water, water, water, pills, blocks, yum another bonk breaker.  It was warm, but nothing impossible.  I learned when you gotta go, you gotta go.  There was nothing rolling about those hills, just a lot of up. I saved my legs, and in the last 30 miles, I picked up the pace and headed back.  To the guy that encouraged me, instead of hiss negative comments when I passed him, thank you.  Your words stuck with me to the finish line.  To the lady spectators cheering on us “Ironwomen” in the heat, thank you.  I got to dismount (6:34 bike time, right on target) and got off the bike fearing the current status of my legs.  Wait, what?  I can walk!  They’re ready to run.

I took my time in T2 cause I knew what was coming.  Where I mentally struggle, where I physically struggle and what I knew would be the most challenging.  One the other hand, I was 2/3 of the way.  I may still have had 6-7 hours (or so I thought) left but I was technically almost done.  I had a plan of running aid station to aid station.  Didn’t necessarily matter how fast, just that I didn’t walk it.  I wanted to reach a point that I knew if I walked the rest I would still make it under 17.  So I set on my merry way, taking down water, sticking ice everywhere (yes down my shorts), wetting my head, and eating my blocks (praying my stomach would just cooperate).  Mile 3 passed, mile 5, 6, 9, and I looked down and I was almost half way there.  Wait a second, I can keep this plan and possibly trot the whole thing.  I smiled, I chatted, made friends, I danced.  At mile 17 is when I realized I could get under 14 hours.  At this point, my knees where yelling mercy, my muscles were cramping.  My eyes watered every time I started up after each aid station.  I took an ibuprofen, started having a few pretzels (they saved me) and kept at it.  At aid station 19 I ran into a volunteer who asked me if I was second loop.  He could tell by response I was in pain and walked with me as I drank my water.  He told me I can walk the rest and still be an Ironman or I can keep at it and make it to the turnaround where I would only have 10K left.  “I know you have ran many 10Ks, the faster you get there, the faster you can have a beer” Thank you, I picked up the pace and made it into downtown right under 14 hours.  But nothing would prepare when I would turn the corner and see 4^th street live and two blocks of spectators just cheering you on.  It is more of an emotional rush than I can explain.   The more emotional I got, the louder the crowd cheered.  I stopped right when the shoot started and took it all in.  I admit, I cried, I let out yells of joy.  I honestly didn’t think this was something I would ever be able to accomplish, atleast not as solid, and everything just came out at that moment. By the time I got to the finish line it was too loud to hear my name, but I would never forget hearing “You are an Ironman.”  14:00:06.

1st x Ironman & 3 x Ironman!

I was told to enjoy every minute of it and I did.  The vibe of athletes, the silent nerves, the energy, the uncertainty of the day ahead.   I was told that I would come back a different person and it’s true.  Thank you Ironman for changing me, for allowing to find my real strength, to know I am capable of more…and that it really is your mind that pushes thru the pain.  Thank you Ironman, your training got me thru hard times, got me out of bed when I didn’t want to, made me stronger in many senses.  This race was something I needed to do for me.  Thank you to my training team, you mean more to me than you know and made this experience more than memorable.  To our Kona qualifier, thank you for constantly pushing me, training me, your patience and just being there.  Congratulations. To all those who supported us back home, thank you! To my sister, you were with my every step, love you.  To the hundreds of volunteers and spectators, without you, many of us wouldn’t be Ironmen, thank you.  To all those participants, congratulations, you are an Ironman.  Would I do it again?  Without a doubt! But for now, there are other things and goals brewing.   It’s time to take some time to really enjoy it all.  ~ AddingMoMiles.

Memorable Trip

Cloud 9

Checklists

As the checklist gets longer and the race inches closer, there are so many thoughts that cross your mind.  Am I ready? As ready as I’m going to be, and if not, too bad. Did I train enough? Probably not.  What if something goes wrong? Plot twist whaaaaat.  What kind of mental demons will I be facing out there? Serious ones, like Ursula at the end of The Little Mermaid type shit. Flat tire? I’m screwed.  Deep river creatures and runoff pesticide poison?  Bring them on. I should have gotten a that tenuous shot. I may be able to stop and fry an egg on the side walk if I get hungry mid race, it’ll be that hot.  What are the port-a-potties going to be like?  Death by suffocation of smell.  Cycling shorts or tri shorts? Screw that, comfort, so I’m getting naked in that changing tent. What the hell was I thinking?  Too late for that shit, next thought.   I can possibly write 4 pages of everything that is going thru my mind at this point.  My bike gets dropped off to be shipped this week, I start organizing what goes into each of the 47 bags . For those of you that may not know you get 4 bags, one from swim to bike (that has all you change into on the bike), a special needs bag (there’s a station in the bike you will stop for this), one back from bike to run (this has everything you change into for the run), and finally a special needs on the run, a station about half way on the run.  You put pretty much everything you may think you may need, band-aids, pain-killers, a cheeseburger, everyone has their own method of madness out there.  I’m kidding about the cheeseburger…I hope.  I’m hoping TSA doesn’t stop me for drug smuggling from all the pills and powders going into this race.  And I’m sure they’ll wonder why I have so much Vaseline.  Don’t ask sir, don’t ask.

Physically, I’m tired, I’ve been training since February, common’ now.  I took two days off last week, even a Saturday morning ride.  I slept until 1pm, I honestly can’t remember the last time I did this… it was heavenly.  I think my alarm clock was in shock…and so was my pillow.  If I head off to race in this condition, it’ll be ugly. Curled up in fetal position ugly.  So I’m taking this week as relaxed as possible, just keeping my muscles moving.  My cool, calmed and collective self (doesn’t really exist) has officially abandoned me.  When people ask me about it, my initial reaction is to cover my ears and scream la la la la to not hear about the race.  You put so much into something, so much of yourself, your time, your dedication that the thought of something going wrong, the thought of possibly not accomplishing your goal, shakes you.  Forget the actual money that goes into these races, but the volume of passion, sheer will, it would be heartbreaking not to reach it.  Everyone tells you, you’re ready, you’re going to finish and I know they’re right but my initial thought is always, how do you know? But I’m so grateful for their motivation and faith. Now it’s time to have fun, 140.6 miles of it.  Louisville or bust. ~ AddingMoMiles

Plot Twist

Two weeks ago there was a slight plot twist in my training, fun right? Saturday morning started out normal.  My usual battle with the alarm clock, lots of snoozing, and then jumping out of bed when I realize I’m late.  Pack up like if I’m heading out for the Tour de France and head over for our long ride with All4Cycling.  Start up our warm up, talking about the new USA shows (mixed reviews to be honest) and all of a sudden I’m heading straight for the asphalt.  The guy in front of hit a reflector on the street and took his wheel out, seriously these things are and apparently out to get me.  No time to react, just enough time to hit the brakes.  The whole thing was in slow motion and never ending.  The second he hit the floor I knew I was eating pavement.  With all the finesse in the world I took a little air and landed shoulder first, bounced a few times (people wear your helmets)…and may have possibly rolled sideways, I really can’t say cause I was focusing on the pain shooting thru my arm. All I heard was a bunch of noise cause my thoughts were just screaming.   In real dramatic fashion, being Monica and all, I swore my Ironman career was over.  Siting in someone’s driveway waiting to be picked up, cause of course I wasn’t allowed to continue riding, gave me a few minutes to calm myself.  So it pretty much meant taking a few days off, thrilling.  The next morning I felt like I had been severely beat with a metal object, but just to be sure, I got on the bike.  I lasted a good 1:15 before my shoulder said what the hell were you thinking! Pissed, I packed up and went back home to get back in bed and catch up on the Tour and ice.  Side note: TDF, full of plot twist!

Fast forward two weeks later, eleven pounds of ice, a few tears of frustration (I got stuck in my clothes a lot), a new hate for potholes on the bike, a few painful runs and I got back in the pool for the first time this morning.  My shoulder wasn’t thrilled but good enough to know I can make it thru a 2.4 mile swim tomorrow if necessary.  What I was most upset about, deferring Huntington Triathlon, I was so hoping to get my first podium.  Small races are my only hope…for the time being J The good thing is I was confident enough with my training the last few months to know that taking it easy for a few days wouldn’t really do much harm.  I think it was actually beneficial cause I felt like I was starting to burn out.  I was so mentally drained, I ran without the soles of my shoes.  Yes, no soles….just kind of forgot them at home.

Spectating does have its perks 🙂

So, it’s August  1^st, Ironman month…countdown begins!  It felt so far away when I started training for it, it’s kind of surreal that it’s actually here.  I was relatively calm until I woke up and my phone said August.  If it didn’t feel real, it just got real.  The prep work starts now… list of what goes in each bag (a lot of sunblock and Vaseline), tune up for BABS (my bike), touching up the final details of my nutrition plan (seems like life or death for this race), mentally prepping myself for the longest day of my life (longest.day.ever).  Taking deep breaths.  Practicing my ironman trot.  Picturing my shoot finish (prepping for the pictures of course).  But I can say with all certainty, I am ready for this.  I have never felt so excited, yet so scared for something in my life ~ AddingMoMiles

What’s another word for tired?

So I have paid for my bike to make its way to Louisville (cost more to get her there than myself…that’s some bull) and got a letter from the Race Director.  Not personalized, generic, but he had his assistant take the time to type it up, that was thoughtful.  You can say things are getting serious.  I took my relationship with training to the next level, I started uploading my Garmin data and started using Strava.  Strava is for kicks and giggles, it’s kind of to see who has the bigger balls and name your workouts funny things.  Social Media for cyclist and runners.  Don’t come at my with the Garmin uploading, yes it took me this long.  I went old school, excel baby.  It’s gotten to that point in training where I’m just really tired all the time.  This weekend I rode my first 100 miles ever and got off that saddle pretty damn proud of myself.  Superman pose style.  Cuase 100 miles isn’t hard enough lets add lightening, torrential down pour, and a pair of dogs.  Seriously though, race day someone release a pack of dogs after me, I definitely got up there in speed.  The next morning, I wanted to throw my bike off the Key Biscayne bridge…and so did my lady parts.  100 miles on the bike was followed by a half marathon the next day.  Really? Like pause for a moment and let that sink in.  I remember when I use to taper and then recover for 2-3 weeks after a half marathon.  Those were the good ol’days of peace and tranquility.  Needless to say, Monday morning I was in serious distress, and let’s not even get into the status of my hair and attire that day.

 Mother Nature making training easier

The result

I’m getting text from my mother asking me if I’m alive, my grandfather was about to put my picture on the back of a milk carton, and my sister is constantly threatening to disown me (not sure that would be so bad).

My friends are planning on these very exciting outings I have zero energy.  They wonder if I’m drunk or exhausted.  Not to mention they make fun of my tan lines.  Mostly things that require putting on clothes again and looking presentable are quick frankly just difficult.

Social and dating life…that’s cute.  I mean honestly, I can barely squeeze in doing my eyebrows and getting my nails done.  I’m starting to resemble wolverine and it’s not pretty.  Really, how can I go on a date with all that going on?  I live in a city where women put on fake eyelashes to go to the grocery store; it’s hard to be out in public like this.  If someone can share with me a 24 hour nail place, I would be forever in your good graces.

I’m hungry, I’m hangry, I want to eat anything and everything.  Sure, I’m burning thousands of calories but a doughnut or French fries still go straight to the mid-section.   So it’s a constant battle not to stick my face in every dessert that crosses my path.

I’m cranky, very very cranky.  My bed looks heavenly and it’s where I want to camp out.  So the fact that I am forced to get out of it early every morning is painful.  My road rage has reached new levels of scary but atleast I get all those words that aren’t social acceptable out of my system.  If another mom tells me “wait till you have kids, then you’ll know the meaning of tired”, I’m trading her kids for my training peaks, lets see how long she last.  My home feels like it’s a mess (lets not talk about my room).  I’m contemplating putting a sign that says “Excuse the mess, we’re training for an Ironman” at the front door to caution visitors.  But complaining aside, and I’m good at complaining, I’m almost there and still enjoying taking all this in. ~AddingMoMiles

 

 

Countdown Begins

 

61 day till Louisville!!! #@%&!!! Now that I have that off my chest…can you tell I’m a little excited. Yes, excited! Surprisingly not nervous, scared or curled up in the fetal position in a corner. I thought at this point in training I would have had some kind of breakdown or sending this race to hell but I’m not. I can honestly say it isn’t going too bad. I would love to bask in the glory that is sleeping in some Sundays and not come close to running a half marathon on a Thursday night that leaves me comatose but in general I’m staying pretty calm and collected. This kind of worries me cause calm and collected isn’t really my thing. I may be making this up, but I’m going to say I feel like I’m finally mentally there; lets light some candles this last until race day.

Life out by Robert’s in Homestead

I think it’s seeing the results that have me in this I will survive moment.  After a lot of frustration, some anger, and a few temper tantrums, my bike is where I want it to be. I’m hitting averages that I have never hit before. They say it’s the borrowed 404’s, I’m saying it’s all my big ol’legs. I’m well on my way to my goal time for the bike in the race. My goal is to cross the finish line but I got a few times in my head to keep me a little motivated on race day. No, I won’t be sharing them. I am genuinely enjoying being on the bike. Maybe not always 5 hours, but I don’t look at it like homework. I was constantly thinking and over analyzing when I would go out on the bike. What if I start to hard and blow up my legs, I don’t like being in the group cause it’s absolute madness sometimes, am I drinking enough water? Screw that. Now I’m getting on that bike, getting all up in the group, pushing myself and it’s a damn good time. If my legs blow up, I just pedal myself back at whatever speed they can go. Obviously this isn’t my race day strategy, but it’s getting me the strength, speed and mental willpower I’m going to need because when you’re 3:30 hours in, you’re legs screaming mercy, and you’re still out there in the middle of homestead, you have no choice but to make it back. My run, doesn’t get a whole soliloquy like my bike (no surprise) but I’m getting thru them. We don’t always see eye to eye but I don’t dread them anymore (progress).

Seriously

There are few things one fears when training more than injury. This past weekend the back of my knee really started to hurt, turns out it’s my calf. So much that I had to take Sunday off. I did bask in the glory that is sleeping in Sunday morning, but it was bittersweet. I wanted to train; I don’t want to put my progress on pause.   But better a few days than a few weeks. I am worried, moments of panic as I limped back to my car when it started to hurt again on yesterday’s run but I’m icing, rolling, and going straight to therapy before it gets any worse. Ain’t no one got time for this ~ Adding Mo Miles

Piece of Cake

I would like a piece of cake right now, but that isn’t what this post is about. “This week is meant to break you” words from my very dear friend trying to calm me down on the phone Thursday. I apparently was alborotada (in an uproar is the Google translation). I had spent most of the week with a half-cold. It’s when you don’t feel 100% but it’s not a full blown cold. I attribute it to lots of training and a germ infestation in the office. This was hard for me to deal with because it was suppose to be a build week. I wasn’t ready to be out of commission recovering. So come Thursday, time for a long run and I had a Mo moment. Called it a day an hour in and left infuriated with myself and running. I couldn’t hit the pace I wanted, my knees hurt, my stomach was bothering me, I was just pissed. After about a 10 minute call, rational words (surprise, surprise, I was being irrational), and some calm words of motivation, I was better. I was still very frustrated, but tomorrow would be another day.

(Thank you Ryan)

The weekend was approaching and we were putting in some hours. I knew it would happen, but it was still kind of daunting that I was almost late for a 3pm appointment from training that I started at 7am and that I was having breakfast at 1:30pm, it’s become tradition, breakfast after training ❤ . So we set off on our 4:30 ride, in a nice little cloudy drizzle. About an hour in we were layered with street gunk and dirt. Kind of made you feel like a bad ass and really gross all at same the time. The last 4+ hour ride I did, the last hour was painful and my speed was a little embarrassing. This time, I felt strong, kept pace above my race goal, and wasn’t desperate to get off the bike. We finished covered in dirt, smelling like wet dog, and feeling pretty good about ourselves. A big breakfast, compression socks, a burger for dinner, and some quality couch time and I was feeling good for Sunday.

Wind, wind, and more wind. It’s the story of living in Miami and that’s exactly what we got on Sunday. The ride is usually easy for me on bricks because my focus on Sundays is getting through the run.  I’d been having trouble reaching 1:30 on the run and I was suppose to run longer than I’ve ran to date in Ironman training, and the longest I’ve ever ran on a brick, 1:45. So I set out with the usual, looking at my pace, focusing on my speed and by the time I hit the Key Biscayne bridge I knew I wasn’t going to make it thru this run focusing on pace. This time I focused on keeping my mind strong and my spirits high. So I stopped looking at my watch and just ran, from water fountain to water fountain. I even started smiling at anyone who made eye contact, some smiled back, and some looked at me like I was a serial killer. I don’t exactly smile when I run…ever. I played some serious jedi mind tricks. High fiving friends I saw along the way (yea we’re cute like that). Checked out all the bikes (ok and maybe some cyclist), designed my own road bike in my head, chit chatted with strangers. If there’s any time to talk to a stranger it’s on a run.  Tried to make friends with the homeless man that guards a water fountain, he wasn’t a fan. Breaking the run down in 30 minute intervals, cause in my head I can run 30 minutes. My feet started to hurt and my muscles started to cramp, but seeing that I had made it comfortably to an hour and half, I was getting those last 15 minutes in.  It hurt but a weekend that was meant to break me, didn’t (that’s what’s up!). I was proud of us. So on the next week. Piece of cake no? ~ Adding Mo Miles

What If

So I got a question the other day, “what if you can’t finish the Ironman?” The first thought in my head was, thanks for the vote of confidence guy.  My second thought, not possible. My third thought, I’ve asked myself that a few times.  My fourth, I sign up for another one and another one and another one until I do. So my inner badass would say it is not an option, not finishing is not possible. I will make it to that finish line crawling if necessary. But I also have to face the reality that it is a possibility. It’s a long, hot race and many things can go wrong.

So hypothetically speaking (cause it won’t happen), what if? There will be tears (a lot), disappointment, and a whole lot of anger. There will also be a new found determination because you could bet your ass I will be researching the next Ironman to sign up for from my hotel that night. But I also look at what preparing for this race has given me, regardless of whether I cross the finish line. It’s given me confidence as an athlete, in my ability to push thru in moments where I would have usually stopped, given up. It’s given me back something I lost for the sport. It came to a point last year where I wanted to sell my bike and I just wasn’t enjoying it. Lately, I’m tracking my workouts, preparing to really start using my power meter, uploading my Garmin info (yes that’s a huge step) and really itching to sign up for a race. Preparing for this race is helping me through other aspects of my life, some difficult moments. So the constant support I receive in my training is a support for other things also. Kind of weird how that works, people don’t really know how far their support goes for an athlete. So if anything, the experience of preparing for this race is something I can look back on fondly. It has been great so far and I know it will continue.  So if the race doesn’t go as planned, I have to look at what I gained to get there…and the fact that I got to eat a lot more without feeling guilty. 🙂

All I can do is prepare and train.  I like to think I’m training smart, building, and getting stronger. Whatever happens on race day happens on race day but I know I am going ready. But I will tell you this, they’ll have to drag me out on a stretcher before I get off that course. I will cross Ironman off my bucket list. ~ Adding Mo Miles

 

 

Ponle Cabeza

So I am currently a little beat up. Muscles hurt, legs heavy, swollen, sleep walking and I’m starting to discover bruises where I never thought I could bruise. None other than the result All4Cycling Camp. This weekend we packed up our kits, helmets, bonk breakers, some chamois cream and caravanned our way up to Clermont, FL. It’s the only place in Florida where we have rolling hills, the fun street of Buckhill, and the infamous (now conquered) Sugarloaf Mountain. We left Thursday night and came back Sunday. Yes, we took a vacation day to go suffer. We have issues like that. I’ve been to Clermont before, I’ve strolled thru Buckhill once and made my way up Sugarloaf but this time was different. This was a trip with 15 hours of scheduled riding. I’m not going to lie, I was downright scared. Not only that, but I was heading up with what I like to call seasoned riders and some seriously strong cyclist.

Let me introduce you to Sugarloaf:

Day one I kept up for a good amount until we hit about three hours and then people kind of started to get smaller and smaller as I fell back. I was a little proud that I wasn’t the first on the van but I did end up there about 3 miles away from the hotel. I was angry, frustrated and just broke, for the last few miles every turn was a climb, I just felt like I had nothing else left. Who put the hotel on the top of a hill? I’m sure this was on purpose. I realized after this ride how grueling the course is going to be. As I shampooed the hours of sweat out of my hair, I genuinely started to worry about the race. Regardless of how disappointed I was in myself for getting on the van, I got great encouragement for what I was able to do. I would not get frustrated with myself the next day (I did).

I started Day 2 with the goal of riding longer than I did the day before, 5 hours. But it was the ride I realized exactly what I can do and how much I can push myself. It wasn’t all about the time and distance but the amount of support I received this ride, it’s beyond words. Pulling while going up two hills and hearing a group of 16 people or so root you on to make sure you made it all the way to the top. To have someone coaching you thru the climbs, pushing you (literally someone pushed me up the last climbs), telling you it’s mental (ponle cabeza became the theme), how proud they were to see you fight thru the pain, to hear them calling your name up ahead to make sure you get there, and just have a group who wanted to see you make it thru the end of the ride as much as you did.  Regardless of my attitude, I got a little cranky and boy did I bitch, they were pushing me. They know what I’m capable of more than I do most of the time. For those that were there reading this, thank you…thank you for everything.

 

Unfortunately by the third day I couldn’t handle the saddle, there wasn’t enough A&D in the world, but I got dressed and rode as long as I could. I finished the weekend with almost 13 hours and about 200 miles of cycling (gotta check the Garmin). Never in my life did I think I was capable of that. The weekend was full of laughs (ab workouts), pain, sweat, wind, rain, hills on hills on hills, adventures, good food and better friends. It was grueling, it was mentally challenging, but if anything I left Clermont a stronger athlete and ready to keep training. ~ Adding Mo Miles

It Hit Me

This past week it finally hit me, like a freight train, what I got myself into.  I got scared.  Going into only my 4^th week of training with only one day off and at least two two-a-days a week, I am pooped (you’ll read this often until August).  It happened Thursday, very unexpectedly.  I was running and it felt like the bones in my legs were about to fall apart (the leg day at the Jungle the morning before didn’t help), no motivation, and just plain tired.  I cut my run short (and got a face of disapproval).  Saturday morning I couldn’t get myself out of bed early enough to make it to the group ride.  I got myself out for a ride but only half of what I was supposed to do.  What the hell am I going to do two months from now? I hear my training cohort as I type this, “Suck it up buttercup.”

I need to find the mental strength to push through the pain and exhaustion. If it hurts, I still run. I need to put aside other aspects of my personal life and not let them affect my training, push thru regardless of what I have going on.  No more cutting workouts short.  I need to strengthen my mind just like I’m doing to my body because where it’s at now, I know I won’t make it thru training and thru the race.  This race means more to me than I can explain, so there is no doubt that mentally training myself is at the top of my list but probably the most difficult.  So how do you train your mind?  Louisville or bust ~ Adding Mo Miles.

Run Forrest Run

I highly dislike running (pause for reaction).  I don’t get excited about going for run.  For the most part it is not a stress reliever for me, quite the opposite.  I know what you’re thinking, “you’re a triathlete , you’re supposed to enjoy it.  Why do it? You make no sense!! ” It’s simple, the challenge.  To me the sport is synonymous with life.  Sometimes, you’re going to have to do things you don’t want to.  You’re going to go through things that are hard, difficult, draining in every way, and simply put, suck.  Well, that’s running for me and it prepares for those things.  Oh and who are we kidding, it does a body good. 

I go through the five stages of grief every single mile that I run.

1. Denial – I’m not going to run whatever amount of miles in my training calendar.  I am not running an hour! This isn’t happening ….nope this isn’t happening… nooooo!
2. Anger – Damn you running! I hate this sport! Why do I do this?  What is wrong with me?! I hate my coach (in all honesty I don’t)…
3. Bargaining – Ok, what if I run 55 minutes instead of an hour?  Does it really matter?
4. Depression – I’m all alone…I’ve been left behind again (cue in “All by Myself”)
5. Acceptance – I got this! I’m going to get it done!

I’m slowly coming to terms with running again, learning to accept it, and trying not to see it as the Darth Vader of triathlons. It’s a process, a slow one. So how do I make running less miserable?

I try to focus on anything else as soon as the negative starts to creep up and demons take over.  The Cuban international cycling team flying by me, the view of the water if I’m in Key Biscayne, unicorns, pot of gold… anything! Recently, what I’m going to write here has been a great distraction. 

 Every once in a while, I take a run for me. No watch, no pace, no determined distance. Just enjoy and oh my, I may just walk a bit and take it all in.  This is ludicrous to many triathletes and these may be rare for me now. 

Using those I train with as motivation.  I’m surrounded by some incredible and determined athletes.  Seeing how much they improve each and every session and race is motivation enough to keep me going.  But also avoiding a disapproving look from my “assistant” coach is sometimes enough.

I look for those moments in running that make it worth it.  That mile I got my pace lower than I have in the last two weeks, regardless of how bad the other miles were.  That moment I kept a decent running form cause it’s no surprise I have an awful running form.  I resemble a dancing T-Rex.  That moment where it doesn’t matter how hot it is, feels like I’m doing cartwheels on the sun, I’m pushing thru.  Out of 10 runs, I may have 2-3 real good ones.  Those are the ones I focus on, those are the ones that keep me at it. 

All the while “Run Forrest Run” is playing in my head. ~ Adding Mo Miles