Blog #1 for EndurancePlanet.com - originally posted on 7/16/2009
I find myself in an interesting position today. I'm inside three months to Ironman now, yet it's really been shoved to the recesses of my mind. That's because in three days I'll be doing the Vineman 70.3 -- my first half-Ironman. I am incredibly excited. Everything I've ever heard about the race is good. But I'm also more than a little nervous. It's a big step for me, my road to Kona, and for this new heart of mine.
Maybe what I'm feeling is what everyone feels on the cusp of a long race. "I should have trained more." I feel like I'm underprepared. Yet I also feel confident. Breaking it down into the three sports (none of which I excel at, and some in which I'm absolutely terrible) it feels very doable. The 1.2 mile swim. Well, I've gone well beyond that distance in workouts. And this will be a river swim in a wetsuit, which both should make it an even better swim for me.
The bike is 56 miles, but 56 miles through the wineries and vineyards of Sonoma County. It's a beautiful area and the scenery should give me something to focus on other than the never-ending pedal strokes and the rising thermometer as the day wears on. And the run... well, there's nothing good I can say about the run. I'm an anti-runner if there ever was one. But I suppose I can say this. Once I start the run the end of the race will be just 13 miles away. It will be hot. It will be hilly. But I can always walk.
This is a big weekend for me and my road to Kona. Good or bad, it will set my path for the remaining 12 weeks of my Ironman training. And good or bad, I'm promising myself that I will attack those 12 weeks with confidence and discipline. My biggest hurdle in training has been that wall between comfort zone and pain. For the 11 plus years I was dealing with the weak heart I became so conditioned to pull back from pain, to shy away from the danger of the uncomfortable, that it became automatic. Now that danger is gone. My heart is strong and healthy and capable of being pushed just like anyone else. My brain, however, still struggles with that reality. I'm having to break through that instinct to back off from the pain.
Part of it is the physical that I can do nothing about. My lungs sustained damage from chemotherapy and radiation and I'm working on about 75% capacity. When I'm out of breath, I'm out of breath. Unfortunately there's nothing my brain can do about that. But there are times when my brain is an enabler to those lungs. Hopefully this weekend I can successfully stage an intervention between the two.
70.3, here I come!
Maybe what I'm feeling is what everyone feels on the cusp of a long race. "I should have trained more." I feel like I'm underprepared. Yet I also feel confident. Breaking it down into the three sports (none of which I excel at, and some in which I'm absolutely terrible) it feels very doable. The 1.2 mile swim. Well, I've gone well beyond that distance in workouts. And this will be a river swim in a wetsuit, which both should make it an even better swim for me.
The bike is 56 miles, but 56 miles through the wineries and vineyards of Sonoma County. It's a beautiful area and the scenery should give me something to focus on other than the never-ending pedal strokes and the rising thermometer as the day wears on. And the run... well, there's nothing good I can say about the run. I'm an anti-runner if there ever was one. But I suppose I can say this. Once I start the run the end of the race will be just 13 miles away. It will be hot. It will be hilly. But I can always walk.
This is a big weekend for me and my road to Kona. Good or bad, it will set my path for the remaining 12 weeks of my Ironman training. And good or bad, I'm promising myself that I will attack those 12 weeks with confidence and discipline. My biggest hurdle in training has been that wall between comfort zone and pain. For the 11 plus years I was dealing with the weak heart I became so conditioned to pull back from pain, to shy away from the danger of the uncomfortable, that it became automatic. Now that danger is gone. My heart is strong and healthy and capable of being pushed just like anyone else. My brain, however, still struggles with that reality. I'm having to break through that instinct to back off from the pain.
Part of it is the physical that I can do nothing about. My lungs sustained damage from chemotherapy and radiation and I'm working on about 75% capacity. When I'm out of breath, I'm out of breath. Unfortunately there's nothing my brain can do about that. But there are times when my brain is an enabler to those lungs. Hopefully this weekend I can successfully stage an intervention between the two.
70.3, here I come!
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