Hey all, I am still alive… I spent last week stuck down in the middle of nowhere Southwest Georgia with no wireless (YES, I had to use a WIRED connection to check my internets. Wtf. Is this 1998?) at a job training thing, so I was kinda incomunicado (my phone didn’t even get service. I’m not talking 1-bar. I’m talking “No Service.” No. Fucking. Service.). But, since Sunday was my two-week Ironman anniversary, I’m ready move on with my blog, my life, and my adventures.
Despite anticipating them, the post-IM blues have hit me suprisingly hard. I’m lost and wallowing in my lost-ness. I know I need to write a race report, but I can’t. Especially when there is no reason I didn’t race like I should have. I met with my coach today to go over the race, and all I could say was that from the moment I got on my bike, my legs just didn’t have it. There was no umph. There was no kick. They were just dead.
I don’t know why. He says he doesn’t know why. And, well, I’m not sure there could be anything more frustrating. To have spent half of my year devoted to a race that blew up in my face for no apparent reason, well, it’s fucking frustrating. It fucking sucks. And as someone who has spent much of her life resting on her laurels (Yes, it’s true. No, I’m not proud of it), this is a new feeling for me. If I fail miserably, it’s usually because I didn’t try hard enough. But this year, I’ve put in the time.
I put in the time to run a sub-3:30 marathon at ING GA. I put in the time to smash sub-5:20 at Eagleman. I put in the time to go under 12:30 at IM Wisconsin.
And none of it happened. It’s like my hard work this year was for naught.
Things happen. They do. I had a shitty mental race at ING GA. I melted at Eagleman.
But this race? There is no reason why what happened happened. I ate right. I slept well. I trained my little tushy off. And I tapered like I was supposed to. This race should have been great.
And now, with a year of crappy performances and failure to reap any of the benefits of 9 mos. of hard training, I question whether I ever want to do this again.
Not Ironmen. I mean racing. Ever. Again.
Because why should you train hard for a race when you are just going to get out there and blow up? I’m tired, frustrated, and very lost.
My race report goes like this: The swim was good, I had nothing on the bike, and I walked the entire marathon. That is not like it was supposed to be. But it was what it was.
Now, I’m on a mission to enjoy running again. To enjoy my bike. To do yoga and bake more cupcakes.
Ironman training made me a one-dimensional person and I want my other dimensions back. Ironman training made me a slow but fiercely aerobic athlete and I want my speed back. Ironman training took my relationship with my fabulous pup and I want my puppy time back.
I don’t think you all are going to get much more out of me than this about the race. The post-Ironman blues are real, people. They’re really real when you worked your butt off for a race that didn’t go like you planned. But, it’s a new beginning. I have a chance to enjoy the fall in my garden and in my kitchen and on the trails and with my pup. And it’s going to be a good fall. And a good winter.
And when I return to racing in 2011, it will be a good year.
Hey all, I am still alive… I spent last week stuck down in the middle of nowhere Southwest Georgia with no wireless (YES, I had to use a WIRED connection to check my internets. Wtf. Is this 1998?) at a job training thing, so I was kinda incomunicado (my phone didn’t even get service. I’m not talking 1-bar. I’m talking “No Service.” No. Fucking. Service.). But, since Sunday was my two-week Ironman anniversary, I’m ready move on with my blog, my life, and my adventures.
Despite anticipating them, the post-IM blues have hit me suprisingly hard. I’m lost and wallowing in my lost-ness. I know I need to write a race report, but I can’t. Especially when there is no reason I didn’t race like I should have. I met with my coach today to go over the race, and all I could say was that from the moment I got on my bike, my legs just didn’t have it. There was no umph. There was no kick. They were just dead.
I don’t know why. He says he doesn’t know why. And, well, I’m not sure there could be anything more frustrating. To have spent half of my year devoted to a race that blew up in my face for no apparent reason, well, it’s fucking frustrating. It fucking sucks. And as someone who has spent much of her life resting on her laurels (Yes, it’s true. No, I’m not proud of it), this is a new feeling for me. If I fail miserably, it’s usually because I didn’t try hard enough. But this year, I’ve put in the time.
I put in the time to run a sub-3:30 marathon at ING GA. I put in the time to smash sub-5:20 at Eagleman. I put in the time to go under 12:30 at IM Wisconsin.
And none of it happened. It’s like my hard work this year was for naught.
Things happen. They do. I had a shitty mental race at ING GA. I melted at Eagleman.
But this race? There is no reason why what happened happened. I ate right. I slept well. I trained my little tushy off. And I tapered like I was supposed to. This race should have been great.
And now, with a year of crappy performances and failure to reap any of the benefits of 9 mos. of hard training, I question whether I ever want to do this again.
Not Ironmen. I mean racing. Ever. Again.
Because why should you train hard for a race when you are just going to get out there and blow up? I’m tired, frustrated, and very lost.
My race report goes like this: The swim was good, I had nothing on the bike, and I walked the entire marathon. That is not like it was supposed to be. But it was what it was.
Now, I’m on a mission to enjoy running again. To enjoy my bike. To do yoga and bake more cupcakes.
Ironman training made me a one-dimensional person and I want my other dimensions back. Ironman training made me a slow but fiercely aerobic athlete and I want my speed back. Ironman training took my relationship with my fabulous pup and I want my puppy time back.
I don’t think you all are going to get much more out of me than this about the race. The post-Ironman blues are real, people. They’re really real when you worked your butt off for a race that didn’t go like you planned. But, it’s a new beginning. I have a chance to enjoy the fall in my garden and in my kitchen and on the trails and with my pup. And it’s going to be a good fall. And a good winter.
And when I return to racing in 2011, it will be a good year.