When John was training for Ironman Cozumel, where he went on to qualify for Kona, he had a piece of paper that read:
Pain cannot be ignored: It has to be conquered,
and when it inevitably returns, it has to be conquered again.
Find what you have and handle it.
Physical
Mental
Emotional
Spiritual
Now, I have this same piece of paper, hanging from a clip in front of my desk. It is a reminder of what is different about my training this year. It is a reminder that I have to learn how to conquer pain. Again. And again. And again.
My training loosely resembles the type of training sessions I’ve done over the past several years. There is swimming, biking and running. There are the long days, the big volume workouts.
And, then there is the pain. The lung searing, muscle burning pain.
There are strings of workout descriptions in my Training Peaks account with the words: “all out,” “hard,” “threshold,” “fast,” “time trial.”
There are time and watt targets. Some of them I destroy, some I hit just barely, and some I miss wildly. All of them are hurt.
Apparently, when you set your sights on qualifying for the Ironman World Championships you sign some heretofore unknown agreement that you will be in considerable pain for at least several days of every training week.
Who knew? 😉
I know that if I want to be in contention for the Kona slot, race day will hurt. So, at least my training is race specific. I’ve got that going for me.
It’s important to be upfront about this: in the past, I’ve had anxiety about the pain, and have struggled throughout my athletic career to pace, to manage, to avoid the deep pain. Sure an Ironman hurts. But, it’s been manageable. Yet, in managing the effort, I’ve kept myself from my true racing potential.
But, my coach Vince isn’t letting me hide from it. Not. At. All. I’m convinced he’s developed a tic with the phrase, “All Out.” It’s appeared so many times in my training plan that I can’t imagine any other reason why that might be so.
At this point, I’ve come to accept that almost every workout I do is going to hurt. And I know that if I even mutter the slightest indication about it hurting, Vince will just say, “Aw, pumpkin! Is it too much? Well, maybe someone else will just take your Kona slot then if you can’t handle it.”
He tortures me because he likes me. Or something.
As much as my screaming muscles and lungs may hate to admit it, he’s right. If I can’t learn to deal with discomfort, to become comfortable with the uncomfortable, I might as well kiss that Kona slot goodbye.
So, I’ve had to find new ways to deal with discomfort, to manage pain. Oddly enough, the best strategies are not to tune out the pain, but to recognize it for what it is: evidence that I am working hard, the body’s natural reaction to intensity, an indication that I am leaving my comfort zone.
I realize this makes me sound like a masochist. I guess I am in a sense. But, chances are you are too if you are an endurance athlete and you are reading this blog. So, I’m rubber and you are glue…
But, this approach works. It forces me to tune into how my body is reacting to training stress at any given time, it’s teaching me that my edge is probably a little bit further than my brain wants to admit. (Such an overprotective organ, that brain of ours!) I learn the feel of different paces, and I get a sense of just how hard I can push for what period of time.
Just when I think that maybe I can’t keep up the effort, that maybe there isn’t any more fast to be found, I find extra gears that I didn’t know I had. I recover, and then come back stronger the next time. I’m seeing split times I’ve only dreamed about.
But, I’m fighting hard for each second, and surprising myself when those seconds add up to minutes as the weeks tick by. The gains may be incremental on a day to day basis, but I know on July 28th, when I toe the line at Ironman Lake Placid (yet again!), my chances of qualifying may count on just a minute or two.
My chances of qualifying will also depend on my ability to accept the pain. By accepting the pain as my racing companion, it no longer has the power to slow me down, to convince my brain the effort is too much, to let the negative voices drown out the positive ones. Conquering pain isn’t about the absence of sensation, it’s the recognition that it is inevitable if we are to achieve the extraordinary.
