Hang in there - you're doing great!

Last weekend during my LONG ride, I received support from a very unexpected source. 3:48 into my ride, and I was this close to throwing in the towel, getting off my bike and chucking it onto the nearest tank trail on Camp Pendleton. All while praying that a Marine Tank would come along and crush it (luckily for me, they weren't out on Saturday). I don't normally hate my bike, mind you, but for some reason, Saturday's ride was tough.

Welcome to Ironman training!

There will be good days, bad days, days where you wonder if you'll ever be able to do it, days where you question your sanity/drive/emotional stability/happiness/feel-free-to-fill-in-the-blank-with-your-own-choice-word, days where you wonder how you'll ever get through xx workouts - and then you do... There seems to be no rhyme or reason to it. Yes, I am in full Ironman training mode.

Some days are great. Others are, well, not so good. But hey - that's life. We ALL have good days, bad days, in-between days. And let's face it: then there are those special days, where all you want to do is curl up on the couch with your Other Half, sipping early morning coffee and watch...South Park.

Yes - that was last Saturday.

After eating my pre-long-ride breakfast of oatmeal + wheat germ + brown sugar + dried cherries + greek yogurt, I headed back to bed for an hour or two of shut eye before my ride. BIG MISTAKE.

Because when I finally woke up, the single though racing through my mind was: I don't want to ride! I don't want to do this! Why? Why today?

There was no reason for it, absolutely none. Friday was an easy day of training, with just a swim. And I was actually excited about the long Saturday ride... Blue skies, the wind in my hair, going out and just riding for 5 hours with no worry of watts, heart rate, pace, time in zone x...enjoying the sport at its finest and in its purest form.

But I realized that IN NO POSSIBLE WAY could I bag the ride. Because there's no hiding in Ironman.

Let me repeat: THERE IS NO HIDING IN IRONMAN.

If you don't put in the effort, complete the workouts, honestly prepare to your full capacity - the Ironman Monster will get you. I don't care how you phrase it: without proper preparation, you are preparing to fail. And fail to you is different that fail to me. Yes, I realize that I will never cross that line first - and I'm okay with that. But skipping workouts, not training when I don't feel like it, slacking off when I'm tired - that's certainly NOT going to help me succeed.

Honestly - its one thing to skip a workout when training for short course races, miss a 2 (or even 3) hour ride on the weekend...but its another thing to skip your long ride when training for an Ironman. Saturday morning, when I was gathering my gels and nutrition for the ride-that-I-didn't-want-to-do-but-had-to-do, that realization was all the more real.

It was especially tough because in all of my training thus far (knock on wood), I've never been so adamant about not doing a workout.

Which was all the more reason for me to keep gathering my ride clothes, gels, water, salt, helmet, shoes, glasses, etc...keep my head down, and get out the door. And yes, I could hear South Park on in the background and smell the freshly brewed coffee...but I still kept going.

My motivator?

Fear.

What if I'm not prepared for my race? What if I'm just not ready?? Skipping workouts, especially a key one like my LONG RIDE for the week - well, that's just not going to cut it.

Fear can be good. No, fear can be great! It's that little bit of extra that we sometimes need to get our rear in gear.

Barely 30 minutes after I roused myself from bed, I was rolling out the door, yelling to Nathaniel (who was intent on his South Park) that I would be back, "IN EXACTLY FIVE HOURS!"

It was 5:02 to be precise, but 1) not that I'm counting and 2) I'm getting ahead of myself.

From there, I just rolled with it. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't fast: then again, it didn't need to be. I just needed to do the time... Screw the wattage, heart rate... just get out and enjoy the ride. Hell, focus on the favorite pair of pants that I can finally pull on again for the first time since my crash last year (post-crash swelling combined with weight gain from not training = a favorite pair of pants gathering dust at the bottom of my closet)...anything to keep you going.

And slowly but surely, the miles and the time, clicked off... It was NOT easy, and there were certain points while riding up Del Dios Canyon and again through Elfin Forest that I questioned why I was doing this. But any and every time negative thoughts or questions crept into my mind, I tried desperately to squash them away. Nope - it wasn't with the usual vigor that I'm used to. But at least I was able to quiet my mind and just focus on the road ahead.

Even if it meant looking to the nearest tree, boulder, or road sign.

Yes, it was that sort of ride.

One of the hardest parts? Passing within 5 blocks of home when I still had two hours left. THAT was tough - but I wanted to head up into Camp Pendleton for a bit, and riding through Carlsbad was necessary in order to do so. Let me tell you...that was tough, but I made myself do it...reminding myself that '3 hours is NOT NEARLY enough time in the saddle on a long weekend ride for Ironman training'...

The second most difficult part of the day? My pit stop at Starbucks a mile down the road from my house. It was my designated re-fueling and bathroom stop...I was giving myself 3 minutes max to do my business and get back on the road. The scones and coffee smelled delicious...and Which Creek Winery was RIGHT next door...

Hhhhmmmmm..... I could kick back, enjoy a free wine tasting, and then consume large quantities of baked goods all washed down with lashings of hot caffeinated beverages...

But I didn't.

Passing through Oceanside and then onto Camp Pendleton was easy. Once on base, that's where things got difficult again. I was alone, off the main beat of 101, away from the sights and sounds of a bustling sea-side city on a beautiful Saturday early afternoon. Instead, I was looking at dusty tank trails, endless stretches of land, and the occasional military vehicle.

And that's when it hit me: I don't think I can do Ironman. I'm scared. It seems overwhelming. And if I can't even get through a stupid bike ride, then how the hell am I supposed to finish 140.6 miles of swim-bike-run? And then the tears started to fall.

I was scared. Really, really scared - of the possibility of failure. What if I can't do it? What if its too much? Suddenly, the grassy fields looked extremely inviting, and I was pretty close to pulling a Norman (circa Ironman Hawaii flat tire), throwing my bike, throwing a temper tantrum, and then calling Nathaniel to come pick me up. I had one chocolate powergel left...not quite the same as a scone, but it would work in a pinch.

And then, something amazing happened.

Without realizing it, I had happened upon Camp Pendleton's first annual marathon. A part of the run course ran adjacent to the road I was biking on, and I had a clear view of the tail end of the field. With 6 miles to go, the few souls that were still out, had probably been running (and walking) for well over 5 hours. I was biking so slowly, that one guy was able to tell that I was pretty upset.

"You're doing great - hang in there!" he shouted as I spun by.

This - coming from the guy who was three places ahead of last place.

But his words stuck with me... you're doing great - hang in there...you're doing great - hang in there...

I looked back, and could still see him in plain sight. No - he wasn't going fast, and in fact, he had slowed to a walk. But he was still doing it. He was hanging in there. He was doing great.

And if a random stranger, who could so clearly tell that I wasn't feeling very good, and who was half running, half walking a marathon could keep going - then so could I.

My pace didn't really change - my 15 mph remained...15 mph. But my attitude certainly did. The tears dried up, and I realized that all I had to do was hang in there - I was doing great.

We can't all have great workouts, we can't all even have good workouts. And heck, we certainly can't choose when we're going to feel like shit and hate our bike. But during Saturday's long ride, I gained something much more valuable than time in the saddle or miles on my training long. I discovered what its like to 'hang in there - you're doing great.'

It's not always pretty...but as long as you hang in there...you're doing great. And sometimes, that's simply all that we need.