Aside: Oh man, this title sounds like the subtitle of a Final Fantasy Installment.
Aside #2: I had planned on publishing this post well before actually doing the race, but I was too chicken, worried I might "jinx" the race somehow. Anyhow, here it is now.
It's occurred to me, recently, that my posts about races and treks generally follow a very standard, consistent formula. Along the lines of 1) Explaining why I decided to do this activity. 2) Knocking myself out with an overly self-indulgent narration of the event describing such minutiae as bodily functions and fleeting conversations along the way. 3) Attempting to describe some lesson learned or create an overall thematic wrap-up of the activity.
But more importantly the posts have in common that they were all written AFTER the activity. And what that means is the whole story wasn't really told. It's pretty easy to pretend that in hindsight I knew things would work out. But for just about every activity I've blogged about, I've had SOME sort of doubt along the way. Now that I've officially undertaken the journey to start my first iron-distance race, I figured it's fair to give a more complete perspective and post about the darker side of preparing for an event.
I've been wanting to sign up for an iron-distance race (Ironman? brand name infringement?) ever since I finished the Wildflower Long Course in 2010. Finally, I figured it fit into my life this year. So, in typical Matt fashion, I figured I'd just start with a training plan I liked the most, and see where it took me. Then if things were looking up, I'd commit and sign up for a race. This generally works for me because I can break a long, arduous process into manageable chunks with progress markers and decide when I know I am ready. Not so much with Ironman brand name races though.
Ironman TM races often sell out a year in advance. So you really have to decide and commit before you even begin training. Ironman Cozumel, however, DID have the more unusual Ironman trait of not selling out until a few months prior. That coupled with having friends signed up made me seriously consider going for it. I started training seriously. Training went well. Up through my scheduled Olympic race. But, upon researching Cozumel more, I learned it would be wetsuit-less (manageable). More troubling though, it would be hot, humid, and windy. I figured going from long course to full iron-distance, I would want to keep as many other variables in check. I tend to have a tougher time with heat and humidity, so I prudently decided to find another iron-distance race where heat, humidity, and wind would not be factors for my first iron distance race. Smart!
K, bullshit Matt.
Ironman Coz sold out. Mixed thoughts in my head. "Yeah, for ME personally, not an ideal first iron race." "But I've got this momentum going with training. It will be more painful to just stop." "Life is gonna be lame for a few months now." Ugh. Google search "iron distance races December". And believe it or not, I found one in Palm Springs with the HITS series December 7. Upon investigation, it's flat, has mild temperatures, low humidity, and the swim is in a lake. It's manageable in terms of logistics and is reputable. PHEW. Not an Ironman TM, but iron distance and looks ideal for me. Back to training. I AM happy. And then the long rides and runs on the weekend ramp up.
I'm happy with schedules that call for a 90 minute ride on Saturday and a 60 minute run on Sunday. I can sleep in a bit for the weekend, do the workout, and still have energy to go out later on. I'm also happy enough doing longer rides with TNT early Saturday morning knowing I'll have company the whole way and be able to do something later that night after an afternoon nap. But 4, 5, 6, 7 hour rides alone get tedious. I'm usually able to settle into some sort of zone after an hour or so, but that first hour can take forever. And it's just me, my bike, and my Garmin 310XT out there playing the "keep my heart rate in zone 2 no matter what, but try to average 15mph" game. On one particularly tough ride I underestimated how cold I would be, how hilly it would be, how long it would take, and how far it was between water stations. I bonked, and found myself breaking down to ask cyclists how far it was until my next turn. I nearly gave in to call someone to pick me up, but I couldn't turn my phone on. Made it back, but yikes.
And then I planned a ride with my friends Peter and Keeley, who were training for Cozumel, the next weekend. The rides were night and day. It was fun again. I picked up a peanut butter and nutella sandwich recipe that beats shot blocks for energy and taste hands down. I got in a full 80 miles and a brick run. And I even had some energy left after the run. Just prior to this weekend I had also met up with T.C., one of my coaches during the 2011 season. He went over my training plan with me and gave me advice. I had underestimated how much I missed training with friends and having an actual person to talk to as opposed to reading a book and perusing the web.
I was on my way through the 5 week peak training period. I had NO energy to hang out with friends during the weekend during this push. NO energy to try anything new and fun. I had to focus as much as I could to just keep up at work. Stanford football kept me excited, though, as I was still able to make the home games and watch the away on TV. But I was far from social. In a weird way though, this rhythm sort of grew on me. I wouldn't say I exactly looked forward to the long runs, but I did enjoy them in a certain way. Up to 3 hours along the bay trails with just me, my ipod, and a couple of Gu's. Long rides were hard, but I'd find a rhythm. And then, after 2 super push weeks, the first weekend involving a big day of 2 miles swimming, 75 bike, and 12 running, and the second weekend involving 18 miles running, 112 biking, and 2.4 swimming, that was it. Taper time.
Taper for me is a 4 letter word. One of my key ways to handle stress is to work out. It doesn't solve your problem, but it calms you down and gives you energy to hopefully rationally analyze it. So, now I have 3 weeks to taper and think about the race. And if I get stressed about the race itself, what can I do? Not work out as much as I have been, because I'm tapering! Grrr..... but one sort of neat effect was that I was able to come within 2 seconds of my half marathon PR during a taper run. And this is without pushing it (until the end).
Aside #2: I had planned on publishing this post well before actually doing the race, but I was too chicken, worried I might "jinx" the race somehow. Anyhow, here it is now.
It's occurred to me, recently, that my posts about races and treks generally follow a very standard, consistent formula. Along the lines of 1) Explaining why I decided to do this activity. 2) Knocking myself out with an overly self-indulgent narration of the event describing such minutiae as bodily functions and fleeting conversations along the way. 3) Attempting to describe some lesson learned or create an overall thematic wrap-up of the activity.
But more importantly the posts have in common that they were all written AFTER the activity. And what that means is the whole story wasn't really told. It's pretty easy to pretend that in hindsight I knew things would work out. But for just about every activity I've blogged about, I've had SOME sort of doubt along the way. Now that I've officially undertaken the journey to start my first iron-distance race, I figured it's fair to give a more complete perspective and post about the darker side of preparing for an event.
I've been wanting to sign up for an iron-distance race (Ironman? brand name infringement?) ever since I finished the Wildflower Long Course in 2010. Finally, I figured it fit into my life this year. So, in typical Matt fashion, I figured I'd just start with a training plan I liked the most, and see where it took me. Then if things were looking up, I'd commit and sign up for a race. This generally works for me because I can break a long, arduous process into manageable chunks with progress markers and decide when I know I am ready. Not so much with Ironman brand name races though.
Ironman TM races often sell out a year in advance. So you really have to decide and commit before you even begin training. Ironman Cozumel, however, DID have the more unusual Ironman trait of not selling out until a few months prior. That coupled with having friends signed up made me seriously consider going for it. I started training seriously. Training went well. Up through my scheduled Olympic race. But, upon researching Cozumel more, I learned it would be wetsuit-less (manageable). More troubling though, it would be hot, humid, and windy. I figured going from long course to full iron-distance, I would want to keep as many other variables in check. I tend to have a tougher time with heat and humidity, so I prudently decided to find another iron-distance race where heat, humidity, and wind would not be factors for my first iron distance race. Smart!
K, bullshit Matt.
Ironman Coz sold out. Mixed thoughts in my head. "Yeah, for ME personally, not an ideal first iron race." "But I've got this momentum going with training. It will be more painful to just stop." "Life is gonna be lame for a few months now." Ugh. Google search "iron distance races December". And believe it or not, I found one in Palm Springs with the HITS series December 7. Upon investigation, it's flat, has mild temperatures, low humidity, and the swim is in a lake. It's manageable in terms of logistics and is reputable. PHEW. Not an Ironman TM, but iron distance and looks ideal for me. Back to training. I AM happy. And then the long rides and runs on the weekend ramp up.
I'm happy with schedules that call for a 90 minute ride on Saturday and a 60 minute run on Sunday. I can sleep in a bit for the weekend, do the workout, and still have energy to go out later on. I'm also happy enough doing longer rides with TNT early Saturday morning knowing I'll have company the whole way and be able to do something later that night after an afternoon nap. But 4, 5, 6, 7 hour rides alone get tedious. I'm usually able to settle into some sort of zone after an hour or so, but that first hour can take forever. And it's just me, my bike, and my Garmin 310XT out there playing the "keep my heart rate in zone 2 no matter what, but try to average 15mph" game. On one particularly tough ride I underestimated how cold I would be, how hilly it would be, how long it would take, and how far it was between water stations. I bonked, and found myself breaking down to ask cyclists how far it was until my next turn. I nearly gave in to call someone to pick me up, but I couldn't turn my phone on. Made it back, but yikes.
And then I planned a ride with my friends Peter and Keeley, who were training for Cozumel, the next weekend. The rides were night and day. It was fun again. I picked up a peanut butter and nutella sandwich recipe that beats shot blocks for energy and taste hands down. I got in a full 80 miles and a brick run. And I even had some energy left after the run. Just prior to this weekend I had also met up with T.C., one of my coaches during the 2011 season. He went over my training plan with me and gave me advice. I had underestimated how much I missed training with friends and having an actual person to talk to as opposed to reading a book and perusing the web.
I was on my way through the 5 week peak training period. I had NO energy to hang out with friends during the weekend during this push. NO energy to try anything new and fun. I had to focus as much as I could to just keep up at work. Stanford football kept me excited, though, as I was still able to make the home games and watch the away on TV. But I was far from social. In a weird way though, this rhythm sort of grew on me. I wouldn't say I exactly looked forward to the long runs, but I did enjoy them in a certain way. Up to 3 hours along the bay trails with just me, my ipod, and a couple of Gu's. Long rides were hard, but I'd find a rhythm. And then, after 2 super push weeks, the first weekend involving a big day of 2 miles swimming, 75 bike, and 12 running, and the second weekend involving 18 miles running, 112 biking, and 2.4 swimming, that was it. Taper time.
Taper for me is a 4 letter word. One of my key ways to handle stress is to work out. It doesn't solve your problem, but it calms you down and gives you energy to hopefully rationally analyze it. So, now I have 3 weeks to taper and think about the race. And if I get stressed about the race itself, what can I do? Not work out as much as I have been, because I'm tapering! Grrr..... but one sort of neat effect was that I was able to come within 2 seconds of my half marathon PR during a taper run. And this is without pushing it (until the end).
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