"F" -- In and Around this trip to Ironman

Warning: This is a rant. A self-rant, but still a rant. It includes bad language. Bad, bad language. I will likely offend the G's in my life -- Mrs. G, Mr. G and G-Love and Special Sauce. Actually, I don't really know G-Love, but it worked well in the sentence. So...if you may, in some way, shape or form, be related to Mighty M and you would like to keep a high opinion of me, please stop reading. I don't rant often, but when I do I swing for the fences, if you know what I mean... .

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One of the coolest things about a blog is that it's both a diary and a taskmaster. I can write down all my inner thoughts and (for unknown reason that I'm still sorting out) people will stop by and read them. But also like a taskmaster because all it takes is one backlink to promises made or (gasp!) excuses thought up and SMACK!, my readership can catch me getting out of line. Full disclosure. Total transparency. Fun stuff.

Well, here's today's disclosure. I've been slacking. Not horribly slacking, but I've been letting my training and road to Ironman curl a little at the edges like some fancy french crepe. And while fancy french crepes can be tasty with apples and cinnamon, they don't work well as metaphors for training for the most grueling one-day event in the world.

Like I was saying...some certain things have been falling aside and I just don't like it. Makes me feel funny on the inside to let things slide. Things that bear importance on how painful this trip will be -- or could be. Things like weight training. And letting sessions from early in the week gather until later, and then feigning surprise when there's no time for them. Oh...and my ab and lower back exercises.

You know. Things like that.

It's not horrible -- I'm still getting in solid sessions and making progress on the swim and bike (although my run feels a bit stunted right now). But it's B-level work. Maybe B+. I don't want to be a B-student...I know I can do better. I just know it. How? Because I'm ridiculously determined and talented in other things in life -- like folding laundry and RPGs -- that there should be no reason why I can't do this like a champ. I want straight A's.

First, a look at what has been done. Here are the totals so far...

March
Swim 20,650 meters
Bike 252 miles
Run 20.4 miles
Brick 1 (!)
Race 1 (10K personal best time)

2007 totals
Swim 47,900 meters
Bike 584 miles
Run 95 miles
Brick 3+
Race 2 (1 trail, 1 road run)

So, that's nearly 100 hours of training so far, about 80-85% of my scheduled work. But I don't kid myself. Okay -- maybe I have been kidding myself, but no longer.

It really, truly dawned on me today that I can't play lightly with this. Okay, actually...I probably could. I probably could limp my way through the three sections and finish with this level of training. But I would not enjoy September 9th. I want every second of it tucked away in my spirit. I don't want it to be memories of pain or worry. I want memories of glory. If I mess around now, I would likely cause serious damage to my knees. I would risk an awful DNF and disappointing my friends and family. And I wouldn't look as good in a bathing suit. (Okay, that last one is my vanity talking...again.)

So...earlier today, after I was adequately soaked in coffee grinds and ever so slightly twitching with caffeine, I wrote this email to Mighty M. Here's where the naughty language starts.

Dear Beebie,

I’ve made a decision and I need to share it with you because if I don’t then I have nobody to hold me accountable and say, hey, remember when you made that decision? And you get the prize of being that person. YOU. Congratulations.

I’m done f#$%ing around. I’m done putting off workouts and sleeping in. I’m done eating cupcakes when I crave cake and bowls of carbs before bed. I’m done skipping my core workouts every week and failing to pick up even one weight. I’m done thinking that buying triathlon gear or reading magazines will make me a better triathlete. I’m done making the excuse that I’m “balancing” my life when I’m really putting off my training. I won’t drive myself to drink or self-destruction, but I also won’t drive myself to Acme for cake or shark gummies just because. I will stop using my laziness as a way of subtly beating up on myself.

I will meet my plans each week. I will wake up early every week day and sometimes on weekends. I will reduce my carbs late in the day and pull back on my butter consumption. I will reward hard work with things that don’t hurt me. I will eat more vegetables. I will stop talking about the Ironman every second of the day and slowly drive you mad. I will plan my training so it doesn’t conflict with my time with you. I will take this s&$t seriously and stop f#$%ing around. And maybe work on my language, too.

Okay. Now it’s said. Thanks, beebie.

love/me

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So, time to stop messing around. And cursing. Time to get on schedule and make the most of this training. Boo-yah.