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Welcome to Struggle Street!



(Expression taken from here
Picture borrowed from here.
I am glad I am not the only one...)

Last weekend's training was a complete failure. Pretty much. I am still trying to figure out whether my body or my mind or my soul failed me. So bear with me!

It was the end of run week. The week before that was bike week which went rather well except for one big blow-up on the trainer. Not even Coach M was sure whether or not this workout was possible. The week before that was swim week. I met my goal of swimming 30,000 meters (30k!) in 6 days which, overall, went better than expected. I almost lost my mind a few times and have no idea how actual swimmers can handle 90,000 meters in the pool per week. I would go nuts!

I knew run week would be the most difficult of the bunch and it lived up to its expectations! Let's skip straight to Friday's run since enough brain cells were destroyed that I can't remember any of the other runs. The plan said the following: Just a run! Without actually clicking on Just a run! I could see that it was 12 miles long. Ok. No biggie. Once I clicked on it on Thursday night I realized that it was indeed a biggie. More like a hugie! Kind of like a 12-mile race all by myself!

The trouble began later that night when I lost all self-discipline and must have consumed something like 2,000 calories after dinner. Not sure what got into me. Me thinks it was a combination of a stressful day + an evening church obligation + a late trip to the grocery store + a messy house when I got home + a hungry belly/mind. I kinda lost it. In hindsight I am also wondering if I was not (subconsciously) setting myself up for failure the next morning. It's always nice to have an excuse handy...

Here are the Just a run! instructions. It was so complicated, I had to write it on my hand! And as I did I knew I would be in trouble… but I was still hoping for the best.

miles + hear rate


Well. Turns out that when you put a whole bunch of crap into your body, you get nothing but a whole bunch of crap out of it! Go figure! When my heart rate was only at 124 after the warm-up, I started to question my ability to run the second mile (or any for that matter) at 165. But I tried. I really tried. And I refused to accept any of the many excuses I came up with. I tried so hard for the entire 12 miles that when I was done and looked at my average heart rate, I started to cry. Almost. Then I decided to laugh instead. 144? What a joke! I was supposed to run a total of 5 miles at or above 165. Garmin says my maximum heart rate was 159. What a loser! 

I was not too unhappy with my pace (7:31) considering it was hilly and partly on the urban trail. But I was really unhappy that I was not able to nail a single mile. Good new is: I was over it soon enough. I took Noah to his Kindergarten Valentine's Dance and what could be better? Lessons learned: Warm up faster (and longer if needed). Try even harder next time. Stop eating crap! 

Somebody save me!

Saturday morning came and it was time for my little One-Woman Triathlon. In the pool I told my lane-mate who was also not feeling it: Welcome to struggle lane! And a struggle it was. I got out after an hour, took a nice hot shower, heated up my oatmeal, and chowed down while watching Coach Liz and her beautiful evf (early vertical forearm) that we have been (supposed to be) practicing for the past few months. Then I drove out to Lake Mary road for the bike and run. According to feel. It had been a long week and I just needed to put in the time. I was excited! I love biking and running just for the fun of it. 

There was just a tiny little problem that kept me from having any sort of fun. The temperature! It was 24 degrees at the time that I needed to hop on my bike. Yikes! I have rules. One important rule says that I don't ride my bike in less than 40 degrees. Reason being: I hate long tights; I hate toe warmers; I hate hats; I hate thick gloves. I mean, really, if I am going to bundle up like that I'd better be going ice climbing or mountaineering! So, of course, I did not bring any of that. I really had no choice though, so after another 20 minutes of wasting time in the car, I put on my down vest and braved the cold. At a whopping 15 mph. I could not make myself go any faster. Because faster would also mean more wind and thus even colder. After 15 minutes of creeping along like that, I had enough! I was pretty sure according to feel did not mean biking at 5 beats above my resting heart rate. So I turned around. I ended up turning the single brick into one of my favorite workouts: a double brick! 0:30 bike - 1:00 run - 3:30 bike - 0:30 run. Not quite what Coach was hoping for but good enough. I hope. She has not commented on that one yet…

I survived! Despite ridiculous wind, not enough food, mental/physical ups and downs, and the lack of training partners. But, of course, I was late coming home. Karl - the Saint - was anxious to mountain bike up to his race at Snowbowl. Yet he was sitting on the floor reading books to the kids, ready to dash out the door the minute I came home. Unfortunately, he dashed out a little too quickly, slipped, and smashed his knee. He was hoping we would pick him up in the car on our way up to the ski resort. He was about to start hitch-hiking so he would not have to miss the start, when we finally showed up. Late again. I might have skipped a decent lunch but I was not about to skip the ice bath… 

More on his race next time. 








Comments

Steph said…
Sorry about the struggle week, but you have no idea how good it is to know that you eat crap once in a while, and you don't nail every single minute of every workout. You are in fact, human???? Maybe a little bit, once in awhile :)

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