Lameness

I used to be fun. I know that it is hard to believe, but I swear that it is true. I used to stay out late, go to parties and bars, and generally be a good time. No more.
Anyone who knows me now knows that I am more likely to be found asleep at 10pm on a Friday night than out (or getting ready to go out as I usually was at that time in college).
While marathons made me lame (or perhaps allowed me to indulge in my new found lameness), Ironman is already bringing me to a new level of lame. Whereas I used to fall asleep drooling on myself at ten pm, now I am fast asleep by nine.
So, now I am both working out two hours a day, and am pretty much incredibly wiped every day by eight o'clock; unfortunately, that's not the worst of it. I realized how completely lame I am when I checked my summer schedule and figured out that my summer looked essentially like this:
-Run 200 miles from Madison to Chicago in a relay, sleeping in vans and on church floors
-Ride across Iowa for a week while sleeping in tents and trying to avoid eating pork on a stick (don't ask)
-Half Ironman in Racine, WI (5.5+ hours of racing)
-Madison "training camp"
- Course rides for both races, maybe a sprint or an Olympic distance tri thrown in
Lamer than the fact that essentially every weekend of my entire summer is planned out (and that I will be pedaling away like the wicked witch for almost all of that), is the fact that I am excited about all of this (but yes, I will still complain about it when the time comes).
I was thinking about all of this as I got in the pool this morning before work (at 6am). While I know that I am becoming lamer and lamer, at the same time there is something in me that believes (that has to believe) that this is what I need to be doing right now. There is something in me that believes that discipline is better (or that I desperately need it) than doing whatever you want whenever you want and that running Boston or doing an Ironman is worth giving up a night (or two, or thirty) at the bar.
As of the schedule right now, I am still able to have a tiny bit of a social life. Please remind me that I said all that this summer when I have NO social life at all (I'm counting on all three of you who read my blog!)

Stuff

I have a confession to make: I own a $350 running watch. This probably shocks people who don't run ("$350 on a watch!"), is not surprising to people who do run ("yeah, that's about what my Garmin cost"), and probably also shocks triathletes ("they still make watches that only cost $350? Mine was $500...").
Despite this, one thing that I appreciate about running is that for all the dry-fit, GPS-enabled, i-pod ready nonsense, all you really need to run is a pair of shoes. I can pretty much run a marathon with only the clothes on my back.
The problem with triathlon is that there is way too much stuff. Then there is the stuff to make your stuff better, or fix your stuff, or tune your stuff, and then the extra stuff that you might need, but then again might not (seriously, I've never seen a sport with so many accessories for its accessories). As I rode this weekend (and yes, I did end up riding outside despite the cold), I made a mental list of all the stuff that I should probably buy. I mean, I have bike shoes, but not the little booties that go over my bike shoes to keep my feet protected from the wind. I have a long-sleeve wetsuit, but everyone in class just bought a short-sleeve one too. I have a bike, but it needs a tune-up, a new tube, one of my water bottle cages is broken, and I don't have a bike computer (I've been using my $350 watch, silly me). I have biking gloves for cold weather, but not the ones for warm weather because my hands don't go numb when I'm in aero...but then again, I might crash. You need a van (and a credit card with no limit) just to get to the starting line. I know that several people I know routinely lie to their spouses about triathlon purchases (no honey, this is the old wetsuit...no, I always had Zipp wheels...), and it's easy to see why...triathlon is the endurance addict's gambling habit.
Despite the fact that I'm excited about racing this year, and despite the fact that I really enjoy triathlon so far, there's something that seems sort of impure about going faster because you spend more or have more stuff. There's something that seems wrong about buying accessories for things that are essentially accessories (and about owing a whole slew of really expensive workout clothes that I can't even wear down the street to Starbucks). There's something that is primal about running...no stuff...just two men (or women) seeing who can go faster using only their muscle.

On joy

I've been ruminating for a couple of days about something that Brian said to me. I was complaining (as I have been lately) that heart rate training has taken the "fun" out of running. He told me that I should just be glad that I am healthy, able to go outside, and able to run. Essentially, that I should find joy in the very act of running because I can, no matter how slow I have to run.
As one of my new year's resolutions was to be more joyful, I've been thinking the last couple of days about how this particularly relates to sport. I think sometimes that I forget (although I am trying to be conscious) that I push running (or biking or swimming) into the realm of another thing that I have to do (I have to do laundry, I have to finish this grading, I have to run ten miles). In relegating running  into the realm of "I have to do", the joy is taken from it.  Sometimes (when I get into the have to frame of mind) I forget how much sport adds to my life. I forget to remind myself, after a long day at work, that I get to run. I treat it like another punishment, instead of the reward. I forget that the fact that just being able to go out the door on any given day and easily run ten (or more) miles is a pretty decent feat.
Therefore, I'm trying to spend this week reminding myself all of the little (and big) ways that sport makes my life better. I'm going to stop treating things that I choose to do, things that are a gift, like a chore. I'm going to keep reminding myself that there was a time, not that long ago, when I couldn't run a mile and remind myself of all the ways my life has improved (and all the journeys that I've taken) because I decided to try to remedy that. This week, I'm going to be more joyful.

I may be a masochist but....

I consider myself to be a fairly badass runner. This is not to say that I'm super fast (I'm not) or that I win a lot (I don't...I win never). This is merely to say that I know how to get it done (Let me stop right here and say [to address what I already know Brian is thinking] that this is not to say that I don't complain- I do... a lot...but I still get it done and I still manage to bring it on race day [this year's Chicago marathon being the exception...ugh]). I will run in negative degree weather if I have to to get a run in; I will run in blizzards (for those of you who were with me, again, I didn't say that I didn't complain); I will run in rain.
Despite considering myself a badass runner, I am not at all a badass biker. Last week, several of my classmates (teammates? fellow-insane-people?) started a really excited e-mail chain about an outdoor ride they found for St. Patrick's day. There are so many things wrong with this that it is hard to start counting.
One: St. Patrick's day in Illinois generally averages snow and about 32 degree weather. While that would actually make a fairly comfortable run, biking tends to create a little wind. That means that the ride is basically -32 degree windchill. If I have to put booties over my shoes so my shoes stay warm, I'm not going, let's put it that way.
Two: Now that I am almost 30 and get four day hangovers from drinking an O'Douls, there is a good chance that even a modest amount of green beer on Thursday will still have me hungover for this Sunday ride.
Three: (and I realize that this one is no one's fault but my own) I am clumsy. The chance (CHANCE) that there MIGHT be ice SOMEWHERE is too big of a risk to take. I have crashed running on ice (three times last year, to be exact); I certainly don't need to crash my bike on it (despite the fact that coach claimed on the first day of class that you are not a true ironman trainee until you've crashed your bike into a ditch [like one of her 2010 trainees who shall go unnamed in this blog]).
So, have fun on your ride, guys! I'll be the one who is warm and cozy (and without road-rash) watching Glee on my trainer.

Go Slooooooowww....to go fast?

So, this marks the end of my first week with heart rate training.  I've never used heart rate training before and I'm understanding what people mean when they say that it can be "frustrating". Apparently, while I am in good enough shape to run 8 min/miles, I am not in good enough shape to run 8 min/miles without my heart rate going sky-high.
This means that to follow the heart rate training that my coach insists upon, I have to shuffle. Pushing at this stage, according to coach, will only lead to fatigue, illness, and burnout. Shuffling will lead to getting faster.
As my coach says: "Many of you are fit enough to run races and get the workouts done.  However, most athletes without a history of HR training have poor aerobic function.  While you are fit, you are not aerobically fit.  What this means is that your heart works too hard for the work you are doing.  The result - fitness plateau, injury, illness, burnout.  If you've ever experienced any of this, you need to improve your aerobic capacity NOT work harder to go faster."
So, instead of training to go fast by pushing and hurting, I'm training to go fast by shuffling and walking. I was on the path last night wearing my Boston Marathon jacket and wishing that I weren't as runner after runner after runner passed me (I hate being passed on the path!). A friend from my old running group (who I can beat on a good day) zoomed past me and did a double-take, then looked confused as realized that I was not, in fact, injured. I made some lame excuse about being sabotaged by my coach and told him to zoom off (at 8:30s probably), so he didn't feel bad about not wanting to run so slowly with me.
I'm pretty sure that there's a lesson to be found in this...something about patience...or enjoying the journey...or something like that. I'll have plenty of uninterrupted time to figure it out as I run 11 min/miles for the next month. Be sure and wave as you pass me.

An Open Letter (#2)

An Open Letter to the Girl in the String Bikini (white and green, with what looked like hibiscus [?] on it, with string ties on both the top and the bottom, I would guess from the Gap, perhaps...) who at six pm on Monday (which happens to be the busiest time at the pool: usually all of the lanes are full at this time; in fact, there are often people waiting at this time) asked me whether (as the person next to me had just gotten out and all the other lanes were full of people doing laps as it is, as is detailed very clearly on the schedule [and very clearly by the people doing laps] lap swim) I might possibly not mind (mind? Why would I mind?) sharing (at this point I notice that you have neither goggles, a hairtie for your long blond hair, nor a kickboard [so I'm guessing that either the hair is going in the water or you really aren't]) a lane with you (at this point I am really curious, but also have to rinse off, change clothes, and go lift, so I tell you that the lane is all yours and hop out...never to find out what exactly you were doing in the pool in a string bikini with your hair down during lap swim):
Seriously?