The Final Brick in the Wall
My final big weekend before IMC 1999, and the obstacles therein.
Originally
Posted – August 2, 1999
The
Last Plod: My Final IMC Epic Weekend.
Friday,
4:03pm: I hate computers, Ironman racing, humidity, Microsoft, American
Airlines, Northwest Airlines, The Pennsylvania Turnpike, La Nina, the sun, the
moon and the stars. I'm at the
point of fatigue where EVERYTHING is annoying, and it's probably a good idea to
put myself in a box and avoid human contact until I get a good nap.
I'm already tired from the week of training, and the final stages of my
personal 'Tour De Tired' are about to swamp me.
Today was a day I had hoped to hide at (or under) my desk and hydrate,
giving my legs one easy day before the weekend onslaught of mileage.
Of course, my lab saw this coming...and as a result I've now been
standing for 6 hours fixing a balky server, in a room where beverages aren't
allowed, even if I have a fake note from my doctor ("You guys...I have to
hydrate, or I might catch on fire! It's
a rare condition I caught during my last race...").
I'm
stiff, dehydrated, and cranky, and I'm not looking forward to tonight's swim.
I've planned a 3800m swim for time tonight, a 18 mile run on Saturday,
and a 100/3 brick on Sunday. The
weather channel is calling for excessive heat warnings...and after a week of
lost sleep and travel, I've had fate do about as much as could be considered
possible to screw up my final push. The
irrational thought machine is in high gear...and I can't stop the downward
spiral of negative thoughts.
5:30pm:
I finally give up on the #%*(& server, swear off Microsoft products for
life, and stiffly stagger out of the lab. If
I live through this weekend, I'll fix it on Monday.
6:15pm:
Arrive at YMCA. Get dressed in swim
gear. Shuffle out to pool.
6:16pm:
Lynda is hanging out on deck, reading a book. Takes one look at me and says
"Uh, oh.", and goes back to the safety of her book.
6:17pm:
I pull up chair next to her and begin shameless, fatigue fueled pity-party that
she's heard 3,448 times before.
6:18:pm:
Lynda suggests I not train this weekend. I
ask "How?"
6:21pm:
Lynda finishes list of reasons why I shouldn't train, consisting of: 7
weekends in a row of travel for me; getting home from Michigan at 1:30am on
Sunday; picking up our friend from London
at the airport at 3:00am on Wednesday after American Airlines canceled his
flight from JFK and stuck his British butt on a bus; and the current heat index
of 137 degrees. I chew on her facts (all correct and on the money, as
always), and reply the great Overtraining credo of all athletes on the brink:
"But I CAN'T take any time off now! I'll
turn to a pile of (gu?) goo! I lose
all my fitness! This is *the* weekend of my summer! If I don't do everything I had planned, the IMC people will
find out I didn't kill myself...and maybe they won't give me a bracelet!"
Lynda continues reading, answering with the "Umm-hmm..."
that lets me know that I'm REALLY out there...and the only thing that'll
bring me back is a nap.
6:23pm:
Lynda shoots down my paranoia in mid flight with one shot: "How much did
Jason train last year?"
6:40pm:
After debating the merits of the Mayfield plan ("Walking the
marathon...takes longer, but more fun...hanging out with Cowman might be
cool..."), I give into the dark side of my self-esteem:
I get ready to hit the pool.
6:58pm:
Finish covering the 20 feet from my chair to the pool, and dangle my feet in the
water.
7:10pm:
Finally start my swim. 76 lengths -
3800 meters. I console myself with
thoughts of swimming this distance in a 25yd pool last year...all 172 lengths
and flips. I start thinking about
things...and what this weekend will mean to my esteem and confidence if I can
get through it. Suddenly I
wonder..."Doesn't the pool close at 8:00?" That allows me 50 minutes. #%$*&! Not having ever been mistaken for Wendy Ingraham or Luc Van
Lierde, I know that 3800 isn't in my grasp...unless I keep moving.
I draw a mental line in the sand: 3000m or until they kick me
out...whichever comes first.
7:20pm:
Feeling decent...I'm singing Golden Earring's "Twilight Zone"
and thinking "long & strong...long & strong..."
7:59pm:
I start glancing at the lifeguard stand...she's still sitting up there.
8:04pm:
I cruise through 3000m, and feel good enough to tempt fate and my YMCA
membership: I'm going for the last
26 lengths or until I get dragged out by force.
8:10pm:
Lifeguard jumps down from perch...I start left side breathing in an attempt to
use the "I didn't see you!" defense.
8:10:02pm:
Suddenly remember I can't left side breathe...and swallow 3 gallons of water.
8:10:12pm:
Hypoxic spots clear from eyes...lifeguard nowhere to be seen...I keep head down.
8:18pm:
3 lengths to go...looks like I'll make it!
Setting sun and tinted goggles are making my turns more and more Braille
every minute.
8:20pm:
Touch the wall on #76 for a time of 1:10:05.
Whew! Lifeguard strolls
by...and says "10 minutes until we close". I feel good...one day down,
2 days to go. I start thinking
about this like
a
Stage Race..and begin preparing for the last 2 days.
9:00pm:
Head to Giant (grocery store) to buy Gatorade, Water, and a few other things for
the house. I'm setting up a cooler
for tomorrows group run with the 'Fast Tracks' Marathon 101 folks...and need
lots and lots of water. Temps at run time should be in the 90's...even in the
early AM.
9:30pm:
At home, realize that I bought cookies, deodorant, chips, sugar...but no
Gatorade or Water. Begin streaming
obscenities.
9:30:05pm:
Lynda observes stream of obscenities and heads back to book.
I note that book has 350 pages...should be enough or this weekend.
9:45pm:
Secure water & Gatorade at Genuardi's market. Head for home.
10:10pm:
Prep cooler for tomorrow. Set out
clothes, Quic Discs, water bottles, water belt & hat.
10:30pm:
Bedtime. Watch Weather Channel.
Mope unabashedly. Ponder move to Northwest Territories for summer.
11:00pm:
Toss, turn, toss, turn, toss, turn...
Saturday
- The Run
5:00am:
"KYW...1060...NewsRadio...Good Morning, the temperature in Philadelphia
right now is 78 degrees...." I
hit the snooze bar.
5:01am:
Too freaked about the temp already, I shut off the alarm and get dressed.
5:01:24am:
Trying to put on run shorts, Oscar somehow gets his little kitty body in one leg
hole...and I nearly end up wearing my cat before my brain in a pre-coffee stupor
goes "Cat? Cat in shorts?
Check wardrobe for hot run...nope. Not
on the manifest. Put cat on
floor."
5:05am:
Stagger to kitchen for Pop-Tarts and water.
Oscar follows...and gets breakfast as reward for not ripping daddy apart
for nearly, ummm, well...nevermind.
5:45am:
Drop cooler off at 2 mile mark of bike path.
6:00am:
Eric Weiss arrives, announces to me "I hate you. It's dark out."
6:15am:
We start the 2.3 mile run to the train station. Today's run will be 2.3 miles to the group, then we'll catch
the 6:43 train to Manayunk. From
there it's 14 miles to Betzwood Park, and 2 miles back to the start.
It's already hot...and the sun isn't even up yet. Eric reminds me again
how much he hates me. I ask him "Are you bringing food today?"
Obscenities follow as Eric's Quic Disc stash is safe and sound...in his
car. It's too late to run back and
make the train, so I hand him a packet of mine.
With 6 for the run I start doing long division and revision of my eating
plan...but I can't make sense of 6 into 18 (!), so I decide to just have one
when I need it.
6:39am:
Eric and I arrive at station. We're
soaked. Completely.
It's now 80 degrees. Humidity
around 146%.
6:43am:
Train arrives. A/C on train is
working. In the train it's 52
degrees.
6:44am:
Eric and I enter a state of hypothermia together. He reminds me again how much he hates me.
7:01am:
We arrive in Manayunk. Conductors
use their change machines to break the ice off of our legs and get us off the
train.
7:03am:
We start running. Finally.
7:03:04am:
I've had enough running. I
feel heavy, slow, fat, hot and bothered. Break
remaining chunks of ice off of my legs, no improvement in form.
7:10am:
Heart rate finally gets over 100bpm. Should be at 130. Eric is in the lead group
and chatting amicably. He looks
strong, relaxed, and just too #%()*# happy to be running.
I hate him. Start thinking
about the path to the Dark Side...and quoting Star Wars to keep my mind going.
7:20am:
Eric's group is 50 yards ahead and pulling away.
Despite dead legs and a low HR, I jump and bridge across the gap.
HR gets up to 140...too high for this sort of run.
Knowing that I can't sustain this...I drop off, and into no-mans land.
For the next 13 miles, I'll run behind the lead
group,
and ahead of the slow group. I
decide to blame Eric, and feel better.
7:50am:
First water stop. Refill bottles
and eat Quic Disc. Still feeling
like zombie. Humidity is like
swimming in 90 degree water...no relief anywhere.
Glasses are foggy...HR has dropped into the 120's.
I'm lonely, depressed, and start thinking all sorts of negative
thoughts...again.
The
next 2 hours were a blur of negative energy.
I felt awful...and I never got in "the groove".
At the 10 mile mark, I see half of Eric's lead group. They've bailed at
the 10 mile mark for the day. I
refuel, eat another Quic Disc, and just promise myself that I won't quit. At
mile 12...I start
walking.
2:11 into the run...and I'm falling apart.
My negative side quickly senses the weakness and pounces: "You suck.
Look at this! You've upped
your mileage...you've run track...and you still suck. You don't deserve to go to IMC this way.
You can't run well, you won't run well...and you'll be walking the whole
day, sissy." I'm by myself,
near tears of disgust and self-doubt. The
sun is baking me...when I hear this lone voice go "Bob!
Wait up!" It's Deb
Keener and the end of the group, hanging in together.
I
joke "Deb, if I were going any slower...I'd be pronounced Dead."
We come together...and just having company suddenly makes me feel better.
9:45am:
I see Eric and company headed the other way.
They've made the turn, and Eric asks "Can I use this 6 minute lead
against the 2 hours?" I say
no, with a grin...knowing that it'll grow from there. Deb and I are the only two left moving at this point...
9:55am:
We make the turn around at Betzwood. Deb
goes for water...I make the turn and start going to cover the last 2 miles.
I want to stop, now. This has been a survival/death-march...and I want it
over NOW.
10:04am:
I stumble over my own feet, and start walking.
I walk to the 1 mile mark...one to go.
I promise myself I'll run the last mile if I can walk now...
10:07am:
1 mile to go...I start running...
10:09:30am:
at the 1/4 mile mark...I trip again. It's
all over. I start walking...it's
faster than I can run at this point. Deb catches me...and has strength to spare.
What was that maxim of always catching people who blow by water stops?
10:20:00am:
After 3 hours and 34 minutes (counting the start run), it's over.
Eric mentions he felt good enough to run an extra 2 miles waiting for
me...and that's all I can take. I'm
shattered mentally, physically, and emotionally.
I toss my water belt to the ground and Deb asks "Do you want to
punch him? I'll look the other
way."
10:21am:
Eric senses that I'm not in a good mood...and stops being a twit. He actually
starts consoling me...and trying to pick my spirits up:
"How much sleep did you get this week?
How long were you standing yesterday?
How Frickin' hot is it out here? Give
yourself a break! You've got 4
weeks to IMC...and today was almost 4 hours for you.
One more hour, and you're at
your
goal for an IM marathon..." Strangely,
his words do calm me...even if I really, really want to hate him, and right now
I really hate myself. It is not a
proud moment for me.
However,
a shower, a stack of pancakes, and a 2.5 hour nap later...I felt better.
Disappointed with the run, but better.
At least now all I have left of this cursed week is the ride...and this
last push will be history.
I
wonder how others going to IMC are dealing, and somehow I hope that I'm not
alone in my struggles with myself. I
remember how much of the race is the battle within your own doubts...and try to
think well about the ride tomorrow. Jokingly,
I tell Lynda that if she was betting on my mileage tomorrow..."Take the
Under." My confidence has been
shook...and I'll need a
good
day to turn myself around.
Sunday
- The Ride
5:15am:
"KYW...1060...NewsRadio...Good Morning...the temperature in
Philadelphia is 79 degrees..."
5:31am:
Bib shorts...Heart Rate Monitor...IMC Jersey...Quic Discs...Oscar? Dude...you
can't sit on Daddy's JetStream...
5:40am:
Extract cat from X-Lab bottle mount and reward him with breakfast for not hiding
on bike.
5:45am:
Hmmm...Pop Tarts and water. Last
time I'll need to do this...last time I'll need to do this...
6:10am:
I slide open the doors to the patio...and it's already a sauna here. At least
it's early...if I ride well enough, I'll be done by noon...while Lynda silently
prays that I don't have another meltdown...or she'll have to move back in with
her parents until I get over it.
6:11am:
I cross onto the path. The route
I've chosen today is the Valley Forge / Philadelphia path I ran on yesterday.
No cars, water fountains every 25 miles, pancake flat...and in case of
disaster, I'm never more than 12.5 miles from home.
As I roll over a mile marker my brain chimes in "Hey...only 99.5
miles to go!" I groan, and try
to settle in.
7:34am:
I finish the first 25 mile loop in 1:23:47, an average of 18.07mph. I can't get
comfy in the bars, my legs are tight, and I feel that it's going to be a long
day. I can't quit this early...so I
make myself a deal that if I still feel this bad after 50...I'll go 75 and call
it a day. I know this is a
lie...but I NEED this ride to go well. My
HR is been stuck at 110...but after yesterday I can't be too surprised. It may
not come up all day...saddle time is all that matters at this point.
7:40am:
At 27 miles, I eat a Clif Bar. Within
4 miles...I feel substantially better. The path is a little more crowded, but
most people seem to be moving with a purpose, so at least there's something to
look at other than the trees lining the road.
8:53am:
I finish lap 2 in 1:19:06 (18.98mph). I
tell myself "Hey...I'm on lap 3! The
next time by is the last time!" Even though I have 50 miles to go...it seems to make all the
difference. I stop and mix up some
new bottles of Quic Disc, and get moving. My
HR has crept up to 130...and I'm feeling better and better.
9:15am:
On the way to the turnaround...I need something to do.
As a group of guys pass me, I suddenly think to myself "Ahhh, why
not a nice game of 'Drop The Fred!' Of
course!" (NOTE: Fred's are the cycling world name for someone who
slaps down their Gold Card at the bike shop and leaves thinking he has bought
souplesse and speed to go with the trick bike...despite furry legs and
reflectors he doesn't remove. They
usually live in Manayunk and ride on the weekends ONLY).
I catch them, say "Hi!" while
not breathing hard...and listen as they all pop up a gear.
I glance at my shadow, and see 3 new cars in the train....hee hee hee!
9:16am:
I shift to the 16, and hear 3 un-coordinated shifts in response. "Damn
Shimano!" I pronounce.
No laughs from the crowd. Hmmm...
9:16:30am:
Onto the 15 tooth. This is getting fun! The
three shadows pop in response...but #3 is fading...
9:17am:
I hear sounds of breathing...and #3 bails.
For fun, I flick my elbow...the international symbol for "Pull
Through". As I pull left, both #1 and #2 jink and stay on my wheel.
I look back and go "Oh...okay!
I can pull for you!" Heh
heh...this is really mean, but money doesn't buy speed brother...
9:18am:
*click* onto the 14 we go...about 26mph. My
HR is finally over 140. Yes! It
took three hours, but I'm finally warmed up.
I check the shadows...and in less than 30 seconds, they're gone.
Awww... better luck next time!
9:45am:
Another round of Drop the Fred results in a surprise: A guy on a Litespeed wearing sneakers and DENIM SHORTS (!)
ends in a tie! He managed to hang
all the way to the 12 cog, where he stayed for a full minute! I was impressed, so we rode together for awhile.
I told him "You get yourself some clipless pedals, clothes that fit,
and a racing license...immediately! Nice Job!"
I'm feeling giddy...I can tell that my body is waking up, and soon I can
stop! Good thing...the sun is getting nasty out here.
10:07am:
I finish lap 3 in 1:14:39, and start my last 25. Yes! There's no
doubt I can make it...and I want this last lap to be the best of the day. One
last Quic Disc refuel...and I'm off. On
the way down the path...the sun and the wind are starting to kick up.
This will be the most challenging loop, but I feel up to it.
I need something cool...I need to think cool thoughts.
Without a moment's pause, my brain comes through in typical warped
fashion with: The Waitresses. "Merry
Christmas, Merry Christmas, but I think I'll miss this one this year..."
Something about the bass line makes me smile, and I start singing this
happy little groove all to myself.
Other
Christmas pop tunes make the rounds, including the long version of Band Aid's
"Do They Know it's Christmas"...while trying to remember all of the
artists and they quotes for the 12" they taped.
10:20am:
A great round of Drop The Fred ends in another tie: this time with a Santana
Tandem! They pushed me for 6 miles!
The captain asks me "Have you ever put someone to sleep with that
hypnotic seat beam? That's wild!" I
guess it wiggles a bit...I never really looked.
I think of taking Eric out on a ride...and mentioning over and over
"You will run slower...you will run slower...."
I make the turn for home for the last time...into the wind.
I dig into the bars and hit it! No
way I want to back off now..
11:25am:
YEEESSS!!!! I finish lap 4 at 1:13 flat, my best of the day...and in a complete
negative of yesterday, I have all the strength in the world to spare.
Final average: 19.47mph, having negative split all the way.
The difference between the meltdown of Saturday and the
confidence-soaring ride of today is ridiculous.
I start thinking...why can't I run like I ride? Why can't I just start
out slow and take my time, letting my body warm to the task?
It seems to be the smart thing to do...and I feel like I have a plan in
place for August 29. Quic Discs
& Patience will be my recipe for success, I hope.
I
may need to tape that word on my swim cap, my helmet, my shades, put it in my
special needs bag, my bottles...I need to be calm in the face of tough times!
Sheesh...you'd think after one of these races I'd have learned that.
So hard to remember when you feel bad...eh?
11:45am:
Lynda and I set out on a 1 mile run. I
needed the company, and I managed to convince her that this would be good
training for the Splash & Dash. Even
though it was hot, it was fun! At
one point, we were playing "Let's make a Deal" with running and walk
breaks. "How about to the stop
sign?" "No...top of the
hill." "How about that
pole?" "Okay...to the pole."
12:00pm:
We come to our senses. It's 97
degrees out, and the heat index is 105. We call it a day, and head for home.
After
another shower, another huge meal, and another nap...I feel immensely happy with
the weekend. Despite the meltdown on the run, I accomplished all I had hoped
to...and most important of all, learned to try and roll with what comes.
My run might be just as bad on the 29th...but I hope not.
If it is, I'll just keep on moving the best that I can.
Maybe I'll surprise myself? I
can't really say.
All
I know is that it's finally taper time...and that Lynda can finish her book in
peace without any more poolside therapy sessions. :)
Although
when I asked her over dinner last night "Have I been better about training
this year, and being a pain in the #@*?"
there was a long pause...a longer pause...and then a smirk that let me
know I was going to have it.
"Better
than what?"
Sensing
another potential zing, I quickly changed the topic. "So lets see...I still owe you 37 footrubs, a weekend on
the beach, and the ring is up to 4.5 carats...right?"
The truth is, I don't know how she puts up with me...since for a few days
this weekend, *I* couldn't put up with me. I guess to learn all I need to learn
about having patience with myself...all I have to do is look to my side.
She's always been there, even through the bad times.
How? I just don't
know...yet. :)
Taper Well! We're almost there!