I was asked to write a running blog about training for my first Ironman in Louisville on August, 31. This is not intended to be a day by day account of what I did mileage and pace wise; surely there is enough of that stuff available out there. Although I may occasionally talk about mileage and pace in context, the real aim of this is to give all of you some perspective on the things I am going through physically and mentally during the course of my Ironman training.  

There are a lot of people in the club who are contemplating their first Ironman, and hopefully this will provide you with some realistic (yet lighthearted) insight on what you might encounter during your preparation. There are also a lot of people in the club who have already done Ironman; some have done it multiple times. Hopefully, the Ironman veterans out there will read this from week to week and be reminded of the trials and triumphs they experienced during their training.   

It’s funny how strong we are, and at the same time how fragile we can be. For me, Eagleman came at the end of a tough 4 week block of training that included Mountains of Misery, and a relay at Breezy, which for me was only 12 miles, but undoubtedly the hardest 12 miles I have ridden to date. I was tired. I did Eagleman on what amounted to a 3 day taper, and quite honestly, I was looking forward to those 3 days of rest more than putting all this training to the test in a half-Ironman. I had a pretty good race, and afterwards, I took it easy for the better part of a week to recharge. Some swimming, some spinning and a little bit of running but not too much. The following Sunday (a week removed from Eagleman) I went out for a group ride with Jerry, Jolly, Dai and several others and felt really strong the entire 55 miles. The following morning I got up for my Monday morning recovery run and once again I felt great. It was just one of those mornings. A beautiful sunrise on the boardwalk, a cool sea breeze, my Ipod and best of all, I never wear a heart rate monitor or a watch on Monday mornings. Running is my favorite sport by far, and Monday mornings are my time to just enjoy it and not think about paces or beats per minute or any of that stuff. Six glorious miles. It was perfect. I think I’m ready for the final 10 week push. 

How quickly things change. I’m not a nutritionist or an expert in physiology so I have no idea what actually happened, but my uneducated guess is that the fitness gained from Eagleman, combined with the subsequent recovery week and resumption of training produced a perfect storm of increased caloric requirements for which I was completely unprepared. That may have been the longest sentence ever, but I digress. In short, I WAS HUNGRY! I ate my normal breakfast Monday morning and packed my normal rations that I had been surviving on at work for the last 3 months or so, but it just wasn’t enough. Not even close. I am absolutely starving, and I am ready for the next meal an hour or 2 before it is time to eat it. As a side note, I worry about my weight. I wish I didn’t but at 6’2” 180 or so, I am not the smallest triathlete in the world, and the heavier you are the harder it is to drag yourself up the hills. With this in mind, I dismiss my sudden need for calories as simply a guy with a giant sweet tooth enduring a rash of cravings. Big mistake. I hope you are picking up the foreshadowing because I am laying it on pretty thick.  

The “fasting” continues for two days as I struggle through a Monday night bay swim and fight hard to stay awake Tuesday morning at work. On three separate occasions, I have to get up from my desk, walk out to the car and just sit in the driver’s seat and shut my eyes. Why am I so sleepy? Finally, it’s Tuesday afternoon; long run time. I begin my run from the shop feeling tired, unmotivated and surprise - hungry. It’s normal for me to not feel so great at the beginning of a run, but I usually find a groove after a couple of miles. No big deal right? I push on past the Visitor Center and I am really struggling to hold my training pace. Usually this is easy and fun, today it’s really hurting. I stop at 64^th Street to grab some extra water and have a gel. This gel will fix everything for sure. The tide is turning, I just know it. Happier miles are just minutes away. Wrong! About a mile later I am starting to realize that I am experiencing a catastrophic bonk. By the time I reach the boat ramp I am done. It’s over, I am quitting now. So I stop and I am immediately swarmed and savagely attacked by rabid horseflies. Funny thing about horseflies; they always seem to land right in the middle of your back, and unless you are some sort of circus freak you can’t reach them. I have since heard that Astro (also not a contortionist) carries a stick on his summer runs on the trail, so he has at least some crude defense against these man-eating pests. Good tip.  

So there I am: too tired to run in a place where it is too dangerous to walk. I shuffle on in misery for what seems like hours. I resist the temptation to walk on the main trail, partly because the trauma of the horsefly attack is still fresh in mind, but there is also an element of pride involved. Everyone I know is aware that I am training for Ironman, and to get caught walking on the trail would be completely demoralizing. My confidence is fragile enough, that is just adversity that I don’t need. 

Finally, I make it back to the shop after 14 miles of pain and despair. Legs are wasted, motivation is shattered. The thought of tomorrow’s masters swim and time trial workout are more than enough to make my stomach churn. Maybe I am not ready for this.  

By the time I got to the Final Kick parking lot, I had pretty much figured out why that run had gone the way it did. I was talking to Jeff afterwards and he says to me, “Your body is telling you it is hungry for a reason so feed it. Monitor your weight but don’t worry about it. If the furnace is hot enough, it will burn anything.” Thanks Jeff. I think I will be set on “Broil” from now on. Let’s eat.