Well, I officially had my first Ironman nightmare two nights ago. I dreamt I was in Chattanooga, trying to prepare my transition bags and special needs bags, yet nothing I needed was anywhere in sight. I couldn’t find any of my gear or the things that I was supposed to have for the race and was in a sheer panic. I woke up sweating, jolting awake.
I think that this is some sort of milestone in Ironman training.
I hit another last week too. I'd been warned of this by some friends. But I woke up in the middle of the night HUNGRY and couldn’t fall back asleep without getting up to have a snack. Middle of the night snack time has become a thing for this level of hunger I have been on!
I'm at the point of training where everything is new. The volume is new. The tiredness is new. I'm starting to be in the real thick of it as far as training goes and the next few weeks are going to be a doozy.
On the list of new things, this past weekend I did my first brick (run immediately after a bike) after a 100 mile bike ride. I have never run after a ride this long before. On Saturday I had a 6 hour ride, which got me almost exactly to 100 miles. Running did not feel great!
Although this was my 6th century this year, of the first five, all but one were special organized rides with built in stops and the other was ITL Big Bike Day… which came with snacks, a SAG, and random chip breaks throughout the day. This was my first normal day 6 hour ride, eating only the nutrition I had brought with me for the day, and with very few stop breaks. It was my first time breaking 6 hours in a century ride this year, hitting 100 miles at 5:57:12.
It was exhausting.
Following the ride, I threw my bike onto the back of my car (and “threw” is a pretty good word… I was so happy to be off that thing!), put on my sneakers and hit the road.
I had a 30 minute run, which is not long as far as running goes, but felt like a long brick... especially when nobody else who had ridden that day was running afterwards! I was solo for my run. Those 30 minutes were a struggle and it took everything I had to get it done without walking, finishing feeling so drained. I sat in my car for a while, the last one in the Sosobee Cycling Park lot, and cried. Not a big sobbing cry, but I suddenly found myself so emotional and tears were streaming. This thing I am working towards, requires so much of my physical, mental and emotional strength on a day to day basis it is unreal.
Doing this is hard. Training is hard. It is fun! But man, is it hard. I woke up at 5:10 that morning to be out of the house at 5:40, drive an hour up to Cartersville for wheels down at 7, pushed and pulled through 6 hours of riding time... much of which was spent by myself at the back of the pack trying so hard to stay positive and just to maintain my own pace when everyone was so much faster and further ahead than me, followed by a post ride run, and another hour and half drive back to Carrollton.
Oh, and my workout that was so hard and draining? Barely a fraction of what I need to do on race day. How is possible that I need to ride my bike about an hour more, and then not just run for 30 minutes, but run a FULL marathon? It feels so overwhelming and so daunting to think about.
But back to where I started this post and my first Ironman nightmare. Well great I thought, now this race is infiltrating my sleep time! I mean, it’s always been greatly reducing my AMOUNT of sleep time given the early mornings and all the crazy things we do with time to fit in training. But now WHILE I am sleeping, Ironman is taking over there too?? Man!
Impacting my nighttime sleep with nightmares is a new thing. But I can’t tell you how many times a week I think I dream, well, daydream, about race day. It's an almost constant lately. I think about how I’ll feel. What that experience will be like. What emotions and thoughts will go through my head. It's almost always where my thought fall back to in quiet moments lately.
While I’m swimming I picture myself hopping into the river in Chattanooga, navigating around others and drafting where I can, I imagine swimming past the buoys and all my friends and family’s phones buzzing telling them that I have exited the swim and am headed to T1. As I change my clothes in the locker room at the gym after practice, I try to figure out for the millionth time if I want to do a full change or wear a tri kit for the entire day.
I picture myself on the bike. How I’ll feel. If it’ll be a good day or one of those days where I just don’t feel well on the bike and my legs don't want to move. I hope for a good day. As I drive to work I mentally walk myself through the scenario of what I will do if I get a flat tire. I remind myself of all the things that could go wrong but the various ways that I'll get through them. I think of my favorite days of biking throughout training. The moments I should channel. And I rethink my plan of snacks to have (more commonly known as "nutrition") and what special treats I want to put in special needs.
And as I am walking around... the office, into my apartment building, around the grocery store, etc. with my legs tired from whatever workout I did that morning, I think about my run. How will I feel? How much will I be able to run? How much will I be able to walk? Will I eat that chicken broth that they have along the course? Will I get to see my friends who are coming to cheer? I imagine myself running past my family, my friend, my coach, Jonathan. I think about all the times in past races I have seen my people. I smile to myself thinking how I will probably put on a good face as I run past family as I have in the past, but complain when I see Jerome. I think about everyone I just spectated in Canada and the people who looked to be having the happiest times on the run course and the people who were struggling. Which one will I be?
But more than anything else, I picture myself running through that finishers shoot. That red carpet. With cheering fans on either side, music blasting, and an announcer calling my name. Will it be light outside still? Will it be dark out? Will I cry? Will I be so focused that I run straight through or stop to hug my family and friends? More than anything, I picture that moment in my mind over and over.
In the tough moments. In the middle of the challenging workouts. When I am tired. When I am hungry. When I am scared of what race day will be like. I think of that moment. Because I will get there. No matter what, I will get there.
40 days away!
I think that this is some sort of milestone in Ironman training.
I hit another last week too. I'd been warned of this by some friends. But I woke up in the middle of the night HUNGRY and couldn’t fall back asleep without getting up to have a snack. Middle of the night snack time has become a thing for this level of hunger I have been on!
I'm at the point of training where everything is new. The volume is new. The tiredness is new. I'm starting to be in the real thick of it as far as training goes and the next few weeks are going to be a doozy.
On the list of new things, this past weekend I did my first brick (run immediately after a bike) after a 100 mile bike ride. I have never run after a ride this long before. On Saturday I had a 6 hour ride, which got me almost exactly to 100 miles. Running did not feel great!
Although this was my 6th century this year, of the first five, all but one were special organized rides with built in stops and the other was ITL Big Bike Day… which came with snacks, a SAG, and random chip breaks throughout the day. This was my first normal day 6 hour ride, eating only the nutrition I had brought with me for the day, and with very few stop breaks. It was my first time breaking 6 hours in a century ride this year, hitting 100 miles at 5:57:12.
It was exhausting.
Following the ride, I threw my bike onto the back of my car (and “threw” is a pretty good word… I was so happy to be off that thing!), put on my sneakers and hit the road.
I had a 30 minute run, which is not long as far as running goes, but felt like a long brick... especially when nobody else who had ridden that day was running afterwards! I was solo for my run. Those 30 minutes were a struggle and it took everything I had to get it done without walking, finishing feeling so drained. I sat in my car for a while, the last one in the Sosobee Cycling Park lot, and cried. Not a big sobbing cry, but I suddenly found myself so emotional and tears were streaming. This thing I am working towards, requires so much of my physical, mental and emotional strength on a day to day basis it is unreal.
Doing this is hard. Training is hard. It is fun! But man, is it hard. I woke up at 5:10 that morning to be out of the house at 5:40, drive an hour up to Cartersville for wheels down at 7, pushed and pulled through 6 hours of riding time... much of which was spent by myself at the back of the pack trying so hard to stay positive and just to maintain my own pace when everyone was so much faster and further ahead than me, followed by a post ride run, and another hour and half drive back to Carrollton.
Oh, and my workout that was so hard and draining? Barely a fraction of what I need to do on race day. How is possible that I need to ride my bike about an hour more, and then not just run for 30 minutes, but run a FULL marathon? It feels so overwhelming and so daunting to think about.
But back to where I started this post and my first Ironman nightmare. Well great I thought, now this race is infiltrating my sleep time! I mean, it’s always been greatly reducing my AMOUNT of sleep time given the early mornings and all the crazy things we do with time to fit in training. But now WHILE I am sleeping, Ironman is taking over there too?? Man!
Impacting my nighttime sleep with nightmares is a new thing. But I can’t tell you how many times a week I think I dream, well, daydream, about race day. It's an almost constant lately. I think about how I’ll feel. What that experience will be like. What emotions and thoughts will go through my head. It's almost always where my thought fall back to in quiet moments lately.
While I’m swimming I picture myself hopping into the river in Chattanooga, navigating around others and drafting where I can, I imagine swimming past the buoys and all my friends and family’s phones buzzing telling them that I have exited the swim and am headed to T1. As I change my clothes in the locker room at the gym after practice, I try to figure out for the millionth time if I want to do a full change or wear a tri kit for the entire day.
I picture myself on the bike. How I’ll feel. If it’ll be a good day or one of those days where I just don’t feel well on the bike and my legs don't want to move. I hope for a good day. As I drive to work I mentally walk myself through the scenario of what I will do if I get a flat tire. I remind myself of all the things that could go wrong but the various ways that I'll get through them. I think of my favorite days of biking throughout training. The moments I should channel. And I rethink my plan of snacks to have (more commonly known as "nutrition") and what special treats I want to put in special needs.
And as I am walking around... the office, into my apartment building, around the grocery store, etc. with my legs tired from whatever workout I did that morning, I think about my run. How will I feel? How much will I be able to run? How much will I be able to walk? Will I eat that chicken broth that they have along the course? Will I get to see my friends who are coming to cheer? I imagine myself running past my family, my friend, my coach, Jonathan. I think about all the times in past races I have seen my people. I smile to myself thinking how I will probably put on a good face as I run past family as I have in the past, but complain when I see Jerome. I think about everyone I just spectated in Canada and the people who looked to be having the happiest times on the run course and the people who were struggling. Which one will I be?
But more than anything else, I picture myself running through that finishers shoot. That red carpet. With cheering fans on either side, music blasting, and an announcer calling my name. Will it be light outside still? Will it be dark out? Will I cry? Will I be so focused that I run straight through or stop to hug my family and friends? More than anything, I picture that moment in my mind over and over.
In the tough moments. In the middle of the challenging workouts. When I am tired. When I am hungry. When I am scared of what race day will be like. I think of that moment. Because I will get there. No matter what, I will get there.
40 days away!
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