Test Week

Well, today ends test week (rest week).
Long story short: I am humbled. It's one thing to start marathon training knowing that you are a little out of shape and to feel it on some of your long runs, it's another thing to prove it to yourself in each sport and have the data to back it up (Do I really need data to tell me that I'm fat and out-of-shape? Stupid triathletes).
I'm pretty sure that I'm supposed to see this "as a motivator to improve", but really, I just find figuring out that I am horrendously out of shape very discouraging.
At one point during my run-test (which went terribly, thankyouverymuch) I started wondering if maybe the cough that I have had had turned into pneumonia. Ummm...yeah, I'm pretty sure that not being able to hold a sub-seven minute mile is not a diagnostic tool for diagnosing any kind of illness (and if it is, I'm sure about 98% of Americans have that disease).
I guess that the lesson to be learned here is that I need to take charge of my training and really embrace the workouts and enjoy the journey and improvement. But right now, I don't want to. Right now, I'm just feeling bad for myself and feeling like training is going to be impossibly long on such poor base fitness.
Perhaps I shouldn't have rested quite so hard this winter.

Rest Week?

I went out for a six mile run today per my training plan and was surprised that my legs felt as good as they did. Despite the relatively light training in the last couple of weeks, one thing that I've noticed is that on runs, my legs have felt a little heavy (I've been told to get used to this- heavy legs IS Ironman). I was also surprised to note that I felt so good that I was having trouble keeping the pace at "easy" (it did also help that this is the first time that I could breathe in two weeks).
Then I remembered. It is a "rest" week. The reason that I put rest in quotes is that I have a hard time calling any week that involves workouts called "tests" that can make grown men cry a "rest week". The whole idea of the rest week is ironic (in that Alanis Morisette calling things that aren't really ironic ironic kind of way). You always reduce volume periodically in training to gain fitness and assure that one is not over training. Runners leave it at that (Rest= Rest). We, however, are reducing volume and checking fitness at the same time. So, our rest week now contains three different fitness tests. The tests are only 20 minutes (reduced volume) but are extremely high intensity. You basically go as hard as you can for 20 minutes (the longest 20 minutes of your life will either be "going as hard as you can" on a bike, or in my 7th period journalism class).
 At the end of the bike test Tuesday, I was covered in sweat, felt like I was going to throw up, was literally drooling on myself, and may have cried a little bit. And then my coach came over and said that she thought I could go harder. I guess there were several bodily functions at the end of the test that still worked, and that was a problem.
Tomorrow is the swim test. I guess no one has ever drowned during it, so that is a good thing. Losing bodily function in the pool seems a bit more dangerous than on a bike hooked into a computrainer, but whatever. It's the run test that really worries me. I know I'm not a good biker, and I have no idea what to expect from the swim, but I know where I am with running. I know that I'm not fit enough to run where I should be even though my legs felt fresh today. I also know that I will probably run too hard too fast and blow up on the path like I have in every 5k I've ever run.
Hopefully, as a more experienced runner, I somehow manage to drool less than I did on the bike. I guess that's where we are as far as measuring success right now.
It think tha,t for now, I'm going to have to be okay with that.

Bike Class

So, I've explained that one of the two group workouts that I do is our "bike class". Several people have asked me questions about what bike class looks like from a practical standpoint (thanks for reading mom & dad!). I have been asked questions like "do you ride outside?", "You bring your own bike?", and "you realize that this is the stupidest thing you've ever done, right?" (although that last one doesn't really have much to do with bike class, it is a contender for most asked question, so I thought I'd throw it in).
So, to put it simply, here is what happens at bike class:
Yes, you bring your own bike. You set it up on this thing that is called a computrainer (which is really expensive, because unlike runners, triathletes aren't happy with something unless it costs at least a thousand dollars. And then they find more stuff to add to it until it costs two thousand dollars [but that is another post entirely]). The computrainer does two things: like a regular trainer, it holds the back wheel of your bike in place so you can ride your own bike without going anywhere; however, it also contains a computer (that's the compu- part of the computrainer). The computer does a whole bunch of things. It measures your power output (watts) and it also puts pressure on the back wheel of your tire at appropriate times to simulate hills, etc (they can program whole course rides into the computer, so you can ride inside and it's just like riding outside but without the nature). All the bikes are lined up facing the computer screens, kind of like a spinning class, but with real bikes. While all this is going on, the coach walks behind, giving advice, answering questions, and calling out the work-out changes. Like a spin instructor, she wears one of those cute little headsets that amplify her voice. Unlike a spin instructor, however, she can kick your ass: I mean, really kick your ass (honestly, I'm terrified of her).
So, basically, you come in, set up your bike and sweat for an hour (or two, or three) while staring at a flat-screen and listening to really loud pop music.
It's not actually as bad as it sounds.

Geek Love

What you see above is my Valentine's day gift from my beloved. No, he did not get me a semi-automatic weapon (even better!). The gift, for those of you who do not recognize the picture, is a dual bike rack. Most women, I am guessing, might not consider this a romantic gift. I, on the other hand, do. The bike rack basically means that I can now fit two bikes on my car instead of just the one in my trunk. It means that we can spend a few more weekends together (riding, yes) than we would be able to otherwise. Some women got earrings. I got a bike rack. I think those of you who have spouses who don't participate in your hobbies can appreciate the romance of a shared interest. I would expect no less from someone that I met during a 20-mile run.
(Let me add as a post-script that both of our V-day gifts last year were purchased entirely from Fleet Feet...Great minds...).

Sick (again)

Today marks day three of missing a workout.
One of the unfortunate aspects of being a teacher is that you are around kids all day. One of the unfortunate aspects of being around kids all day (other than the name-calling and the hair-pulling) is that kids (especially sophomores) lack the proper hygiene to know when a tissue is necessary; hence, they are always sick; hence, I am always sick. Case in point: I have been so sick, so often, this year that I was recently given the "Sneezy Seven-Dwarfs" award (really?) at school (if you don't understand what this means...good, it's better that way). At least being sweaty and athletic is gross but cool. Being sick is just, well, gross. So, as far as the workouts this week go, there is nothing to report.
One of my (three) readers exclaimed that he wanted my entries to "pop" more...that he really wanted to "feel the pain". Well, the pain this week has been (thankfully) mitigated by Advil, Sudafed, Mucinex, and some sort of over-the-counter nasal spray that's been in the medicine cabinet for god-knows-how-long (maybe since before we moved in, actually). I assume that sinus pain doesn't really "pop". Hopefully by next week, I'll be able to share some pain that is unrelated to a cold, a sinus-infection, bronchitis, p-neumonia, or whatever else is currently taking residence in my lungs. Fingers crossed.

Today's blog is brought to you by Puff's plus and a myriad of other medications (which, now that I think about it, I probably shouldn't have combined).

The First Week...

All in all, I would have to say that the first week of training was relatively anticlimactic (you know, other than being stuck for a marathon stint [ha] in my car).
I guess I expected something to happen- to feel more badass, for one of my legs to fall off...something. The only thing that really happened from all of this was that I have already begun to miss running. This whole week, I've been driving to work with my swimsuit (or bike) in my trunk, feeling jealous of those suckers who are dressed all in spandex (sometimes reflective spandex), getting in a run before the crack of dawn. There's something about braving the cold, and about getting in a really hard workout outside, that just can't be beat in the pool or on the bike trainer. Kristin Armstrong said in her Runner's World blog recently:
"In the midst of regular life, running is the touchstone that breathes adventure into my soul. I can feel the trail under my feet, the press of the hill, the gallop of the track, the burn of my lungs, the stir of wonder and possibility. Running reminds me that there is more to me than what is readily apparent much of the time."
I guess what I'm saying, in a round about way, is that the beginning of this grand adventure is feeling...well, less than adventurous right now. The bike trainer is not exactly sexy (and you're talking to a girl who would argue that mile repeats definitely are...), and the I'm having a hard time letting my pool workouts help me feel "the stir of wonder and possibility". I know that I'll feel those things when I get outside (really, it's the outside that does it...no one ever has an "adventure" at the gym [except maybe in the locker room at Bally's but that's another story...]), but I'm having trouble equating my indoor life right now to the pull of adventure and possibility that got me into this whole mess in the first place. 

Mental Toughness?

While the first workout of Ironman training was relatively uneventful (a fairly easy swim, followed by a quick strength session), I was excited (and scared) for my first bike class. The bike class is the thing that really holds the Ironman training together; it's when you, as an athlete, have the most chance (at least until the outside rides) to interact with your coach and your fellow trainees.
So, I packed my bike into my car Tuesday morning with excitement and a bit of trepidation. Around 3pm, my coach e-mailed to say that bike class was cancelled. I was disappointed, figuring that I would do the first bike workout on my own and that I would have a rather anticlimactic first week of training.
I loaded myself, bike still in trunk, into my car for my trek home.  I figured that since I got on the road right around 3:45 that I would have a fairly long ride home, but make it in a reasonable amount of time. Unfortunately, this was incorrect. What should have been the first day in my bike training quickly turned into more than a half-ironman spent in my car. I got onto Lakeshore drive around 5pm after spending over an hour on 90/94. I got off of Lakeshore drive around 12pm (and then had a rather epic drive home in whiteout conditions- I ran at least one red light right in front of CPD for fear of stopping and ending up stuck in a snowdrift) after two police officers helped me turn my car around and literally pushed my out of the space that I had been occupying on LSD for the past 5 hours. During the course of the night, I made friends with a couple people in cars around me, had a woman try to sell me a baggie of oreos through my car window, and had a guy in complete ski gear ask me for jumper cables (thought to bring snow pants and goggles but no jumper cables, huh?). I listened to the radio for nine straight hours. I used up my laptop and my blackberry batteries. I read a young reader's version of a book that I had already read. I graded three papers, but then I realized that if I died, I didn't want grading papers to be one of the last things I did. I went back and forth wondering if I should try to stay hydrated or try not to make myself have pee. I contemplated running home at one point. I contemplated biking home at another. I stayed put.
So, what should have been my first bike class, turned into an adventure of a completely different kind. Perhaps there's something in common between sitting in your car for nine hours and an epic endurance event.
Perhaps not.