“Where’s my medal?” I exclaimed as I walked in the door. No response.
“Where’s my dang medal?” I repeated, giggling.
John was sitting in the office, barely paying attention to my antics. He looked up after I came huffing through the doorway, a huge smile on my face, a rush of endorphins in my blood stream.
“How did it go?” He asked.
“It” was a race simulation that my coach Vince had cooked up for me.
“Aaawe-soome!” I sang in reply.
Finally, I had gotten to “race.”
Thanks to a commitment to recovering my leg from the chronic ITBS that plagued my 2011 season, I haven’t raced since September 10, when I did the Shoreman Half Iron Triathlon. That was the last time I donned my race kit and pushed my limits.
That is a very long time ago for a race junky.
Spending the entire fall running season without a single race was agonizing. Watching John race in Cozumel was torture. Volunteering at local races, without being able to jump in was frustrating.
I LOVE to race.
I relish that feeling of riding my redline, of zeroing in on competitors and passing them, of feeling my body work in ways that I just know it was born to do.
There has been none of that for me in months.
No trail running races on mossy single track, laced with the colors of Autumn leaves.
No fall marathon to try and achieve my goal of a 3:30 straight marathon time.
No winter dashes where I could frolick with friends.
No FUN.
Through it all, the rational part of my brain knew I was doing the right thing. My ITBS was never going to go away unless I gave my leg a chance to release, recover and strengthen. So, that’s what I did. The good news is I’m back to running and riding healthy and strong.
But, I’ve been patient long enough.
This hiatus from racing gave my coach the opportunity work steadily on my limiters, with anywhere from 11-14 hours of training per week. Most of this time was spent swimming and cycling, including 12k of swimming, between 5-7 hours of cycling each week, and from 2-4 hours of running a week.
Mentally, it’s quite challenging to train for four months without any type of race as a test of my efforts and progress. It’s also challenging just because I love the feeling of being right at my edge. And, racing is a great fix for that addiction.
In a recent post on his site, Vince referred to the training I’ve been doing for the past 20 weeks or so as my prep phase. And, that phase is about to come to an end. Since I will start my IM Mont Tremblant-specific training on March 4th (24 weeks out), last weekend offered the perfect opportunity to complete a half-iron race simulation.
Vince had told me about this day several weeks ago, so I knew it was coming. I was eagerly looking forward to it. Then, I got sick. A week before “race day,” I got a cold that left me with a sore throat and a cough. I even lost my voice for a few days, and had to take three complete days of rest. Not exactly the kind of taper I had in mind.
It seemed I wasn’t going to get to do the simulation.
Grumble. Grumble.
Vince consoled me, “Remember, this weekend isn’t the focus. Mont Tremblant is. Just recover and be ready for training to start.”
Ugh. I wanted to race! Even if it was only a simulation.
Saturday came, and I was still feeling a little sketchy–maybe 80% of my best. So, instead of the simulation, I did a light swim and bike. Vince said if I was better, I could try it on Sunday.
All day long on Saturday, I willed myself to feel better. And, it worked. By the end of the day on Saturday, I was feeling pretty good and decided I was going to go for it on Sunday.
I woke up Sunday morning with a simulation of that feeling you get on race day. I was even just a little bit nervous.
Today would be a big day! Today would be a day to push my limits!
Let’s get it on.
I started with the swim, managing to swim my best ever for for the time. Off to a good start!
The bike included a mix of different effort levels, as would occur within a race. I set to it. I could feel the effort of the swim, but was able to keep my heart rate and my power right in the range I wanted.I love watching my numbers while I ride. I like the challenge of shooting for a number (HR or watts), finding it and maintaining it.
The bike was a hard effort, but manageable and fair. If I had been able to simulate this effort in an actual race, it would have likely been my best half-iron bike to date.
After a few hours in the saddle, it was time to run. The first mile is always a bit tricky, but in the main, it feels like a relief to me, as I feel my body lengthen and expand after several hours sitting all compacted on the bike. This run felt hard–but a good kind of hard. The kind of hard where I knew I had found my edge; the kind of hard that teaches the body to find its limit, then learn to push beyond it.
After several hours, I crossed the finish line and stepped on to my back porch. I felt tired but refreshed. Racing is like a cleansing of the spirit, and while my body may feel limp, my soul feels renewed.
And, no, I didn’t get a medal for this effort. But, this session came with a reward that was much more valuable: the knowledge that the work I’ve been putting in over the past 4 months has resulted in speed gains in the pool, speed gains on the bike, and speed gains on the run.
It came with the knowledge that I’m ready to race.
