Running on empty...

We leave for the North Carlina mountains tomorrow morning, and not a moment too soon.  This will be the second year we've stayed at a cabin in Leicester, to the west of Asheville.  The cabin sits on some large number of acres, and has a private pond and hiking/biking trails up the mountain.  The kids and dogs can run amuck without seeing anyone or anything besides woodland creatures.  If I am so motivated, I can run mountain roads or mountain bike some seriously elevated trails.  Last year it was the perfect training spot for me to really build up for IMFL.

This year, though, I am seriously considering taking several days off, or even MOST of the days off that we are there.  I'm taking my trainer, and can water jog or swim in the pond... but I'm suffering a serious dearth of energy, which is sapping my motivation dry.  I was struggling somewhat even before the triple whammy of sick girls, crazy overbooked schedule, and unexpected blow up with the exH, but those three things occurring in quick succession pretty much cooked me physically.  Unfortunately, although I hate to admit it, my body doesn't function like other people's, and it's only through extreme
stubbornness that I train the way I do.

About six years or so ago I landed in the hospital with a suspected case of pericarditis (inflammation of the heart).  I'd been having really bizarre chest pains at random times, and they'd been getting more and more debilitating.  When I finally went to my physician, he performed an ECG (EKG?  whichever is right, lol) and immediately sent me to the hospital.  After a few days in the hospital they decided I was having all the symptoms of pericarditis, but without any sign of the actual infection.  They eventually sent me home with some muscle relaxers (?) and over time the chest pains waned and I moved forward without any clear understanding of why they'd occurred.

Two or so years later, while down at Bike Week in Daytona, I found myself experiencing a crushing headache and nausea.  I thought it might be a migraine, which I've never had before... but it continued.  After a few days, mind numbing fatigue appeared and the headache was so bad at times that I literally cried in pain.  All I wanted to do was lie in the dark with my eyes closed.  After a week of this I went to mayo and started a process of weeks of testing to determine what the hell was going on.

The first round of blood work revealed insanely out of whack liver functions, and they immediately suspected one of the hepatitis strains.  Although they must have tested three time for each strain, all tests came back negative.  Meanwhile, the headaches, fatigue, nausea, fevers, drenching night sweats etc all continued... and my liver functions steadily grew worse.   My doctor began to talk about potentially putting me on the transplant list if the functions deteriorated much further.  Both my doctor and I researched every possible cause -- parasites, random infectious diseases, various viruses... I saw the infectious disease specialist and the liver specialist at Mayo, and the medical bills mounted along with the frustration.

Throughout this process, I continued to feel like I'd been hit by a truck and/or beaten in the head repeatedly.  It was scary, but I was too sick to really be scared at the time.  Thankfully, I had a wonderful doctor who worked very diligently and closely with me to figure out what was attacking my liver and beating my body up so badly.  We ultimately reached the same conclusion at virtually the same time... the probably cause of the problems was a virus called CMV.  Sure enough, one simple blood test later (after literally several dozens of vials of blood drawn over the preceding weeks) and the diagnosis was confirmed.

http://www.mayoclinic.com/health/cmv/DS00938 -- a good overview of CMV.

CMV usually affects people with HIV (uh, not so much...), who've had an organ transplant (yeah, ditto), or who have lowered immune systems (hmmm)...  So, to our best guess is, my immune system is somehow compromised (which we've kind of known, dating back to a miscarriage before the minis were successfully hatched) which allows the CMV to abuse me periodically.

So, what does one do for this virus that randomly attacks parts of the body, that has no cure or overly effective treatment, and that no one really knows how to prevent from flaring up again?  Absolutely nothing.  You let it run it's course and hope you are still standing when it does.

My liver eventually won the war, the fevers stopped, the headaches waned, and over the course of the next year I regained probably 80-90% of my energy level, on average.  BUT... ever since, under the right circumstances, I hit the wall and feel as if the very marrow has been sucked from my bones and I am nothing but jello.  Summonsing the energy to do the basics -- housework, laundry, grocery shop -- nevermind training, becomes a chore.  I feel like I have a perpetual case of mono.  I don't think I've had a full blown attack occur on any particular body part since the liver episode, but I also feel that, on a good day, I am operating at about 80% capacity,

When life throws unexpected curves -- extended lack of sleep, sudden emotional stress, prolonged physical or emotional drains -- an exhausted fog settles in around me.   The worst days see me just put a pillow over my head and sleep all day.  Average days see me complain about being wiped out, or tired... something I imagine my friends and husband and kids get sick of hearing.  It's the kind of tired that I can only equate to being pregnant in the first trimester... and the latter is not as bad or as tenacious as the former (and with the latter you know it is for a good cause and you'll only get more tired once you give birth to the virus, er, fetus, lol).  This is the kind of tired no caffeine, no sugar, no dogged determination can wade through.

Having a virus like CMV makes Ironman training a bit challenging sometimes.  The discernible difference between my pre-liver-battle energy level and my reality now bothers me greatly.  Some days of training feel truly like a death march.  And in the weeks before a race I find myself desperately trying to get enough sleep to stomp down the leaden feeling that dogs me more often than not.  This past week was a good example -- things went downhill until Wednesday, when I simply could not make myself get in the pool and swim the 4500 yards I had planned, or anything else for that matter and I thought my week was pretty much toast.  Thursday I woke up and forced myself onto the bike trainer and sucked it up long enough to finish, with some oooomph, a 5.5hr trainer video.  Virus 1, Sara 1 for the week.

So, off to NC we go.  When I return there will be 4 weeks or so left before IML.  I plan to do whatever training feels right next week after desperately holding on to the edge of the cliff to complete what is supposed to be a heavy week of training THIS week.   While it goes against the IM training creed, I may take the majority of the week off.  Yes, this close to the race.  I don't see much choice right now, as the battery is barely emitting enough juice to flicker the lights, and I feel like I am walking around with a huge DUH expression on my face, not unlike Sabre generally has on his, but minus the long tongue and big pointy ears.  Hopefully a week of concentrating on the family, walking and hiking in the woods, making s'mores over the fire pit, and generally trying to rest and forget about training much at all for a few days will beat back my viral buddy enough to pick it up for the last few weeks before I travel to Louisville for the privilege of dying in the 95' heat on the run course.  :-)

More inspiration....

This weekend I raced in the 3rd race of the BFAS triathlon series races at Mickler's. Big Mini did the swim on a relay team consisting of a friend's husband and another friend's son. Both of those friends raced as well, as did one's brother AND sister in law and the other's sister in law, making this race a fun family affair.   Alas, Matthew and LM were on camera duty due to a torn meniscus and not being 12 yet, respectively.

Although I did not especially enjoy the ACT of racing (what the heck was UP with that pathetic run?), I thoroughly enjoyed the EVENT, precisely because of the special people in it.

I could pick any of several people who've inspired me lately, but I'm going to focus on one of the families I mentioned, above, in particular.  I've gotten to know this extended group through kids' AND adult triathlon and road races... H, who just started triathlon in the past few years, has abs we all envy, and now places in her her age group in a lot of events, and her husband K, whose story I will tell shortly... And then through them I've met K's brother and sister in law, G and V. 

H always makes me laugh. Her outlook on life, in spite of what many people would consider a full-to-overflowing plate o'stress (the kind of stress that isn't of your choosing and is completely out of your control with no end to it in sight, IE the worst kind), is unerringly positive and tinged with the kind of humor required to gracefully handle life's not so little trials and tribulations. Her dedication to training and her family puts us all to shame, and I'm probably more excited about her doing IMFL this year than she is, lol. Because she juggles more obligations and draining issues than anyone I know, I think of her when I feel whiny or sorry for myself, and how her positive outlook never seems to waiver.

K, her husband, is an absolutely amazing example of fortitude and determination.  Shortly after K and H signed up for IMFL 2010, they discovered that K had bilateral renal cancer, and earlier this year he underwent two separate surgeries to remove all of one kidney and 1/3 of the second.  The doctors were very negative about his future ability to exercise with any intensity, and K was facing the great unknown on a variety of fronts: would his remaining 2/3 kidney kick in and take on the duties normally performed by 2 functioning organs?  Would he suffer some sort of adrenal issue caused by the surgery and trauma to his body?  Would the cancer recur, or spread?  If his remaining kidney-lite did not take on the burden, he was facing up to 5 years of dialysis before he could be eligible for a kidney transplant (assuming he remained cancer free for those 5 years).  Add all of that to the apparent loss of a huge part of his identity -- triathlete, runner, active participant in life -- and you've got a recipe for most people for a stint in a seriously dark place.

At first K and H looked bleakly at the immediate future, as the doctors discouraged virtually all strenuous activity and preached fear of dehydration and overheating...and while K struggled with the emotions most of us can only imagine having to resolve, H struggled with how to help the man she loves come to terms with the probability of a greatly altered future.

BUT... K, like all good, obstinant athletes, didn't just accept the vague limitations placed on him.  He researched, and found other stories of cancer survivors (kidney and otherwise) who came back as athletes... and he started, slowly, swimming, and biking, and jogging.  Now, we all know the tentative, cautious, wary steps we take as we come back from a basic physical injury... each effort tinged with the worry that the pain will return, every twinge watched carefully, every increase in mileage and effort accompanied by a held breath and a prayer to the warrior workout gods... now imagine the mental toll of entering relatively uncharted territory, with no clearly mapped path of recovery, no clear idea of the ramifications of each decision, and no idea whether the kidney function OR the cancer would return.

Yeah, I'm not sure I could do it, either.  But do it K has... with determination and the power of an indestructible will in a wounded triathlete's body.  What probably seemed like a drearily slow progression to K has been astounding to the rest of us, as he is now riding and running mileage greater than I am with less than two months until my Ironman, lol.   To see a peer look down the barrel of the loaded gun that is cancer and face down all the fears of the unknown that accompany treatment, recovery, and survivorship... to watch him venture into completely unknown territory and manage the new-found limitations of his own body and regain training form... to get glimpses into the tap dance through a minefield that must be involved in learning the new capacities and needs of a body adapting to the loss of 1 and 1/3 of 2 very important organs... and to truly believe that this man, and his wife, will be ready to tackle the daunting task that is an Ironman triathlon -- this, to me, is at a minimum wildly inspiring, if not downright miraculous.

As if H and K's story is not already amazing enough, I have to admit that the icing on that family cake is the evolution of K's brother and sister in law, G and V.   V has been a runner, but G battled a weight problem.  At some point in the past year, G began to take steps to lose weight and get into shape.  When K was diagnosed with the cancer and was unable to run the Donna 26.2, G took his entry -- and, although he had never done that distance before and had not really been training for such a long distance, he finished the race.  This past weekend, he completed his first triathlon, crossing the finish line side by side with V (also doing her first tri).  G has used the shock of his brother's illness to slingshot him into an almost 100lb weight loss and has embraced the athlete's lifestyle along with his wife.  100lbs.  Think about that.

I can't tell you how much I enjoy seeing these four amazing people at various events.  To see a family, sucker punched by adversity, regroup and rally and thrive in the face of that adversity -- that is truly special... (I get chills and a little teary eyed just THINKING about seeing them cross that finish line in November...!)

THAT is another small part of my "why".

:-)

ANYONE can do an Ironman...

Anyone can do an Ironman!

Yes, Someone actually told that to me, a few months back, and then spent some minutes justifying and explaining the statement.  I.E. Anyone can do an ironman "if they train for it". 

At first I found that statement fairly offensive.  It seemed like an attempt to diminish or minimize the accomplishment of attempting and completing an Ironman.

As I thought more about it, I also tried to distance myself from the speaker of the statement and any "history" I have with him that might color my reaction, and to look dispassionately at it.  I didn't want my reaction tainted by that history; I wanted to really assess the accuracy of the statement and the fairness of my negative reaction to it.

And, after that, I still think the speaker was abjectly incorrect.  I think it is incredibly easy to sit back and declare, with little knowledge of the process followed or journey required, that "anyone" can do something.  In fact, I've heard this same person, and others too, discourse on how "I COULD do X, IF I wanted to..." or "that person does a terrible job. If I were in HIS job, I would do it like..." - declarations that cause me to grind my teeth in anger, because the speaker generally has zero concept of what it takes, personality-wise, career-wise, effort-wise, or other-wise to be in the position s/he is pontificating so knowingly about.

On the topic of Ironman, I've decided that I vehemently disagree that anyone can do it.  In fact, I've done one already and I am still not convinced that I can do one.   Heck, I'm still not sure I REALLY did the first one and didn't just dream the entire thing.

It's easy to say "I could do a triathlon/Ironman, IF..."  IF I wasn't:  afraid, injured, too busy, too tired, overweight.... IF I: wanted to, liked to run, liked swimming in the ocean, felt like putting in all that time to train, had a bike, had more time.... IF I: liked training in the heat, didn't travel as much for my job, had someplace to swim, didn't want to watch my favorite college football team etc.  etc.  etc.

In other words, in reality, very FEW people actually can do a triathlon, of any length, because very few people will take the steps necessary to move outside the comfort zone and rectify the "IF" factors.  I don't even think I agree with the concept that "anyone" can do a sprint triathlon, never mind an Ironman, for exactly that reason.

And if you do take those first few steps -buy a bike, join a pool, make the time to start training- you will soon find yourself hitting both mental and physical obstacles... And I believe athletes at all levels of ability and competitiveness go through various stages of personal challenges in these areas that must be addressed, bypassed, or overcome to continue the journey.

Physically, there is the constant challenge to stay healthy, to manage aches and pains and not allow them to become chronic injuries, to walk the line between pushing hard enough and harming our bodies.  We struggle to fine-tune nutrition, hydration, and recovery/rest time.   We may or may not have easily adjusted schedules that accommodate training, family, work... and often we encounter unexpected time drains (illness, work load, exhusband freaking out... you know what I mean?) that we suddenly have to assimilate into our plan.

And then... every step, every unexpected demand on our time, every adjustment we need to make to our plan, every ache that sticks around for a few days... each creates an element of doubt and fear -- and then we fight the fight on two fronts: physically AND mentally... and, as I've talked about, I believe mentally we greatly enhance, OR detract, from our physical preparation, so fighting the mental war becomes a major obstacle.

So, back to whether "anyone" can do an Ironman (or any distance triathlon).   To me, even IF everyone is suddenly capable of making/willing to make the choice to do a triathlon, is "everyone" really mentally and emotionally strong enough to survive the roller coaster that is Ironman preparation?

As I read the chats on IamTri in the Ironman Louisville forum, I see an awful lot of registered racers battling their own fears, anxiety, self-doubt, second guessing, mental blocks, etc.  Let's face it, when it comes to the actual physical training for an Ironman, it is definitely NOT a one-sized fits all sort of thing.  Some people can, and do, put in some impressively high mileage training.  Some fall in a more moderate range.  No two people really do the same training.  No two bodies can really HANDLE the exact same training and get the best result, imo.  90% of the competitors are NOT racing for Kona spots, so their personal goals might go something like: finish, finish standing up, finish under 14 hours etc etc.


The REAL training battle, and the one someone who says "ANYONE can do an Ironman" never sees or experiences, is the one in our own mind.  The battle against the voice that KNOWS what 10, 12, 14 or more hours of exertion will be like... the one that knows you can never be fully prepared for every contingency and that anything goes in a race of that nature -- you can train all year and get leveled by a broken crank, or a stomach that refuses to digest nutrients, or an uncontrollable cramping in your quads that no nutrition plan can account for, or a completely unknown pain in your ankle that you've never had before.  It could be raining.  Windy.  Excessively hot.  Freakishly cold.  You could just generally feel like sh*t and there's no one reason why.  And that is where all the mental training, all the mental battles you've fought, all that accumulated mental mileage, decides your day for you.

The one element we all fear is reaching the breaking point mentally.  The mental bonk.  And none of us really knows where that point is, or how to avoid it, exactly... because we don't know specifically what would cause it.  And THAT unknown is what we all deal with in the walk up to ANY length triathlon -- and the ability to handle that fear and to keep pushing our bodies and to juggle all the demands of training for a triathlon -- THAT is what sets us apart... and THAT is why I vehemently disagree that "ANYONE" can do an Ironman.  Or any triathlon.   What do you think?

Getting your mind out of your own way

I've reached the conclusion that a lot of the better triathletes I know are either running from demons, possessed by demons, or some combination of the two.  I believe this because I can find no other logical explanation for why we would voluntarily torture ourselves the way that we do, and because the only explanation I can find for my own participation is a desire to use physical pain and challenge to block out emotions I don't want to deal with particularly.  Call it a physical salve for emotional wounds, if you will.

I think if we are honest with ourselves, we have to admit that training for, and competing in, triathlon is akin to walking a very narrow tightrope across a very wide and deep chasm.  Finding a balance in our lives is basically a series of trials, errors, juggling, and adjusting for unexpected ebb and flow.


It's easy to get sucked into the "more more more" philosophy of training, where it becomes almost a compulsion to do more - more miles, more speed, more challenge, more often.  If I feel myself starting to get sucked into that mindset, or comparing myself to people around me, I think back to my days in the Bar Review class  in the months before sitting for the Florida Bar Exam.  Now, if you want to talk neurosis, try hanging with 500 wanna-be attorneys in the months before the bar exam.  I staved off panic attacks on several occasions that summer after hearing jabbering from fellow students about all night study sessions, and the bar exam version of "more more more"... and it was then that I learned to tune out everyone around me and just go on my own instincts.  It worked, I passed, and it's a philosophy I try to insulate myself with in the world of tri training.

(As an aside, I think what hooks IM competitors on IM itself is not the race, but the training FOR the race.... because once you ramp up to a certain level, how do you ever go back and feel adequate or whole?  Now, I'm sure there are some, or many, who THINK they can seamlessly transition from IM level training to the more sane levels required for Olympic or sprint distance races, but, in reality, I don't think many of us can do so without a struggle.)

Training and racing is always a battle of pushing our bodies, and minds, farther and farther, while simultaneously monitoring both for signs of damage that a day of rest might not repair.  Because triathlon is, to me, as much about mental strength and challenge as it is about physical strength and challenge, I think we are extraordinarily susceptible to the phenomenon of what I think of as: the mind getting in the way of the body.

For example, because we value mental discipline, we believe that we should be able to push ourselves through aches, pains, and fatigue -- which is true, to an extent.  Where it becomes self-defeating is when we cannot see that taking a break, admitting we are risking injury, or listening to our body and backing off a bit is NOT a sign of mental weakness -- it is actually a sign of the most refined form of mental discipline and strength:  the ability to acknowledge our limits and to recognize a change -- whether as small as a day off or as large as deciding to water run for a month to stave off a stress fracture -- is required to stay on that tightrope and stay out of the abyss.

Sometimes it takes more strength and discipline to admit we need to step back and walk AROUND the wall rather than it does to continue to run full speed INTO the wall, hoping it will move.  Unfortunately, we as triathletes often consider such a choice as a sign of weakness, as lack of motivation, or as indication that, mentally, we are losing our edge.  It's the seed of self-doubt that is just one of the many paths into the abyss.

When I coached swimming at a local HS I liked to schedule double practices on the day we swam against one of our biggest competitors (I think they'd won the conference champs for some number of years in a row previously, and we hadn't beaten them in a dual meet much/if ever either).  Now, for the sane, er, nonswimmers among you, "doubles" means just that-- practicing twice in one day.  Morning practice, before school, at 5a... and afternoon practice for 90 mins or so before the other team arrived for warm ups for the meet.

The first year I did that, I had to talk several of the swimmers, and their parents, off the cliff.  What kind of a nut-case holds practices TWICE on the day of a "big" meet?!  I explained that this was my way of teaching them the art of "getting out of their own way" -- in other words, shutting their minds down, and letting their bodies take over and do what they are trained to do.  Invariably, we'd see MANY swimmers set season or career best times at that particular meet... and afterwards I would gather all of the parents and the swimmers together, and point out how successful the meet was (and, thank God, it always was) and thank the parents for their support of the kids' and our crazy, mandatory, 5a practices.  Then I would speak to the kids, and point out how strong a muscle their brain is, and that that muscle can have greatly positive effects, or it can submarine your entire effort with it's negativity.

Moral of the story -- sometimes, you have to let your instincts and training take over, and turn your brain off (get it out of your way!)  Whether that is to let yourself fully race to your potential, or to let your body tell you it needs to shut it down for a while...  because every now and then, that powerful brain will work against you and make you ignore your instincts or flood yourself with doubt... and THAT'S when it's time to hit the "off" button.