Finally I’m through it, the last major training weekend in preparation for IM Coeur D’Alene. And it feels good to be done!
It was a strange weather weekend in the East Bay. Saturday dawned cold and gusty, as opposed to the beating sun I had hoped for. Thinking I might find clear skies at a higher elevation, I drove up to Tilden Park to tackle my 2 hour run. Rather than sunnier, it was even windier as I climbed. The run route I chose is perched atop the ridgeline and quite beautiful when the view is clear, looking off to all of San Francisco to one side and the rolling hills down to San Pablo Dam on the other. But this particular day was cloudy and stormy and windy as all get out. The old Winnie-the-Pooh books where Pooh and Eyeore and Piglet are blown all over tarnation came to mind as I battled the elements for 2 straight hours. I was exposed almost the entire time. It was one of those winds that slams you from the side and front, and no matter what direction you’re running it won’t cooperate and file in behind for a fun little push. The kind where every time you lift one foot, the wind slams it hard into the opposing ankle, so in effect I spent the entire run kicking myself, quite literally. I may even have bruises to prove it. The phrase “training through adversity makes me stronger” played over and over in my head.
But that was my easy day. I had originally planned a traditional long ride/run brick, but a friend of mine, whose initials are MJ and who has a decent amount of experience in the sport, recommended that I kick it off with a long swim to best mimic race day conditions. I figured her advice is well worth listening to, and thus I found myself at the pool Sunday morning laying down a race pace 3 x 1000 swim. Next up was a 5 hour ride, a double loop of the Three Bears route which, though a bit boring is perfect mental and physical prep for the hilly 2-loop Coeur D’Alene course. The finishing touch was a 1.5 hour run, wherein it took me the entire first hour to find my groove (and stop cursing the wind). I forced myself to keep going to a point where I felt good, knowing that during the race it will be all too easy to succumb to the pleading of my body to give up. At the 1 hour mark it happened: suddenly everything fell into place, my stride opened up, my tempo increased and I raced myself home, pushing through the last few miles as I envisioned the last points along the IM course. The point where I will turn off into the downtown streets toward the finish, toward the cheers of the crowd. The point where the tears welled up last year. The point where I will finally glimpse the finish arch and hear Mike Reilly’s booming voice calling me to the line. The point where I will run through the finish, into the care of the waiting volunteers and the embracing arms of my sweetest fan.
I know what I hope the clock will read at that point, but I also know that no matter what, whether it says __:__ (Sorry, I’m not naming my goal until it’s over!) or 16:59 I’ll be changed in ways that have nothing to do with the time on the clock, but everything to do with the time on the course. In fact, although I long for a personal best, I know that the tougher the day the more I will learn out there, the more time I will spend meeting my demons and shedding them along the way. No matter what, it will be a victory.
Meantime, I have some resting to do, which kicks off with a much needed massage tonight. Let the taper begin!