Rest & Recovery is Over

It's December 1 and I'm ready. It's been nearly 40 days since the race and I'm getting my spark back. In one of my last posts, I mentioned recovering completely. I've learned that it takes the body a while to get back into the swing of things! I found a few articles and even watched a webinar on allowing time to get back on the road. 

I've been swimming with my tri club once or twice each week - but I miss long intervals and the salty cool waters of Banks Channel. I've been teaching spin classes, too, and though it's a good substitute, I REALLY miss biking. On Thanksgiving, we drove out to see family in Pender County (on roads that we trained and raced on) and the memories came flooding back. I wanted to be with Lucinda on the open road. 

I miss Banks Channel. A lot.

I even miss running! I miss the intensity and the targets and even the distance of a good run. I've been holding off - my right achilles tendon was inflammed following the race and I don't want to aggravate it.  I ran for the first time nearly two weeks ago. Three miles was plenty and my ankle flared up. On Friday, I tried again. One mile.  I did 15 minutes of dynamics and walked for a half mile before starting my jog. My only target was perfect form. The end result? Relief. No soreness followed.

I'm ready to get back to training - to following a schedule and being outside. I love the discipline and the mental push. I know that the rest I take now will spill over into my next season. One article I found said:

Managing your recovery post-Ironman is almost as critical as preparing for the event itself. Be sure to take the time and savor what you have accomplished...the pool and the roads will still be there when you are ready to make your comeback!

I'm ready for a comeback!

  

 

Roar

Instead of working on words, I've been working on all the video and pictures from my big day. Here is a rough draft of my video!

Singing the Ironman Blues

I'm having a hard time writing my B2B race report!  Every time I sit down to write it - I start to cry. I feel more like a sissy than an IRONWOMAN! At first, I was overwhelmed by gratitude. The number of people I am thankful for is out-matched only by the number miles I swam, biked and ran this season. Plus, I'm overwhelmed by the words and memories that are forcing their way into my head - fighting for space on the page. That's what happens when I don't write consistently! Plus, I miss IRONMAN! I miss the training, the adventures, the race itself! I'm in recovery mode - my first workout was yesterday in the pool - a short set of easy intervals and I did yoga this morning. I'm missing the endorphins of workouts and the anticipation of the race itself. 

One Sad Puppy

In a way, I feel like I'm re-entering the earth's orbit, or experiencing culture shock. What do normal people do on the weekend anyway? What do you do at 5:30a on a weekday? I know it's perfectly normal. It happens for lots of big events in my life. Here are ways I'm working on it [via ideas from this blog]:

A few things that may help:

• Expect it! Know that you’ll be coming down off the high, and that it won’t last. I know it's normal. And I knew it was coming. Heading to Florida the week after my race to support Jenni Sunshine at IMFLA was part of the plan! But now I'm experiencing double excitement-withdrawal blues. Ironman/Vacation is OVER. 
• Reflect on the positive and negative aspects of the race, and move on. I am -- slowly -- writing about the race. I've been collecting pictures and videos from friends and family and writing thank you notes to all those who texted, called and facebooked me in the days leading up to and following the race.
• Admit it to yourself or those around you for support. I'm blogging about it - does that count?
• Distract yourself with other activities you love and find meaning in. Ace and I went out for sushi - on a Friday night! I visited a longtime friend over the weekend (hi Sue!) and I'm going to Cucalorus this weekend.
• Set new goals to work toward. I have big ideas in my head for next year. I am eyeing a 10k in January and a big ride in the spring. BUT, I haven't registered for anything. It's fun to dream about all the races - before even committing!
• Recover Completely. I'm being kind to my body.  I am being careful to listen. It says: ouch. It says: don't run. My head and my heart want to go on a long ride and out for a run - but my legs say: no, thanks. I'm sleeping and foam-rolling and swimming and yoga-ing. But spin classes and my awesome run shoes must wait. Instead, I will rock the FINISHER pajama bottom - and my medal. 

 

Back to Work

Today, I got back to work. I've taken a break (and not just from blogging). One of my favorite parts of racing is recovery and this week has been no exception. For several days after a race I eat junk food, I sleep late and I do not run.  

Progressive Lunch: I couldn't decide WHICH so I ordered it ALL.

I have been sore - my quads are tender and I have had phantom pains in my hands, forearms and feet. On top of that, I faced my biggest fear on Tuesday: a root canal! So my face hurts, too. (I know, it's hurt you for a long time. Good joke. Ha Ha) It was the perfect excuse to stay in bed and eat milkshakes! If only my hamstrings had received a little novocaine love. 

Salted Caramel Shake from Arby's

   

It's Thursday and playtime is over. I've been moving a little - I taught a spin class and walked on Monday and Wednesday. But, with 43 days, 18 hours, eight minutes and two seconds left - it's time to step up! The first order of business - a run.

I'll admit I had a disappointing run at Patriots (more on that to come). It was not what I wanted and I needed a few days to pout. Unlike IM Raleigh 70.3, though -- where my confidence was shot and I contemplated quitting triathlon -- I am fired up.

I nailed my run today. I didn't feel fresh and it wasn't easy, but I did the work anyway. My instructions were to build to a 9min/mile pace.  I divided the hour into 10 minute intervals and set out. My 10 minutes included dynamics and an easy jog. Here are my splits for the rest:

10 min at             10:11

10 min at             9:43

10 min at             9:19

10 min at             9:09

10 min at             8:54

Average pace for five miles of work is 9:27/mile. Plus, that last 10 minutes included a stop to chat with the neighbor!   

I am excited. I have had a shift in belief and a shift in commitment. October 26, here we come!

 

A Bucket of Suck

Pardon the expression, but that's how I described my run on Sunday. 

My plan called for a brick - a back-to-back workout that included three hours on the bike and a solid 50 minute run. I treated the entire workout like a race day. I prepared the day before - hydrating, eating well, sleeping long.  I rode with race-day precision. Erica, Jen and I warmed up for seven miles and then split up for an hour. The goal: to ride at iron pace for two hours, regroup and then ride back to the start for the run. 

I had a solid, strong ride. My cadence was high, my spirits were high. I had a few transcendental moments. I quieted the monkey mind. I thought of games to play and songs to sing in preparation for B2B. When we regrouped, I was proud of my effort.

The success of the ride was reversed in the run. My workout included 2 x 25 minutes of running separated by five minutes of a walk break - to reboot my form. The first 18 minutes were okay. We ran across the drawbridge, towards Johnnie Mercer's pier and halfway to the north end of Wrightsville Beach. I slowed down at mile two

I'll admit the heat was stifling. The heat index was 89 degrees and the humidity was 74%.  I sang Alicia Keys: my skin is on fi-yah! My feet are on fi-yah-ah-ah-ah-ah. My heart was racing more than usual and I swear I could feel the hair growing out of my head. The five minute walk break equaled me standing in the carport of the nearest home and wondering if I should sneak a shower from their hose. 

The next 25 - 30 minutes were torture. I honestly don't think it was physical. I COULD run. I wasn't cramping. Nothing really hurt. I just couldn't get it together. I spiraled mentally and emotionally. I slowed to a walk and watched Jen melt away into the distance. When I walked I got mad: I can't believe this is happening again. This feels just like White Lake/Raleigh 70.3/Beach 2 Battleship Half Iron. I should be able to hold my race pace. When I stopped to get water I got sad. This is pitiful. What am I going to do? I can't believe this. I'm never going to make it.  I admit it: I cried. Right there on the loop at Wrightsville Beach. I tried to figure out who to call to come pick me up - and I didn't even have a phone. I started to play LET'S MAKE A DEAL. If I run for 100 steps, I can take a sip of water. If I run to the fence by the boat ramp, I can walk up the bridge. If I can run to the last stoplight, I can walk to the finish. I eased into a shuffle and finished - knowing it wasn't my best day.

Afterwards, I pouted for an hour. I had a cup of coffee and treated myself to waffles. I texted/whined to my coach. I took a hot shower and a long nap. I sang loud in church that night and allowed myself the last of the pina colada sorbet I made.

Coach and I spent time on Monday - and again yesterday -  troubleshooting. Was it the heat? Nutrition? Hydration? I've also spent some time working on my heart and my head this week. I am interested in the fact that my emotions were much like grief: denial (this shouldn't be happening), isolation (I pulled back from the other runner), anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I've been looking at ways to get out of the bucket - quicker. 

It's been a few days and I'm actually grateful for my bucket of suck. It was hard to shake the feeling that I had on Sunday. But, I know everything works together for good and I'm a firm believer that almost every moment is a teachable moment. 

I realize that there are more dark moments out there. I know that they will likely meet me somewhere on the bike or the run course of B2B. I know that there will be moments in training that I'll want quit. I hope I will remember this bucket of suck. I hope I only carry the memory of it and the lessons I learned from it -- and leave the bucket at one of the aid stations.