The First Bad Brick

In the past four months of Ironman training, I've had less-than spectacular bike rides, agonizing runs, and painfully boring swim sessions, but it seems like every time I go out for a bike-run workout, I hit my stride and just fly. Until today. Traffic in LA is infamously unpredictable, so it can be difficult to get in a really good ride going for time. I decided company would be the only way to get through this one, so I invited the team and led a group of about 10 out to the beach and to the north end of the Palos Verdes peninsula before turning around. At 7am on a Sunday morning, I can't really complain about the traffic I suppose. Compared to any other time of the week, it was a breeze riding out there today, but compared to quiet winding roads in New England, the stopping and going was tedious. Plus, the fog hadn't lifted yet by the time we got out to the beach, so we weren't even rewarded with the beautiful panoramas I have come to take for granted in California. Despite the disappointments of the ride, I was evenly matched for pace with another team member, so at lease I didn't pull the group alone.

Looking east at downtown from Figueroa Corridor.

But the trouble didn't really start until I got off my bike, at which point I realized in over three and a half hours of exercise, I had drank only half a water bottle and eaten 2 Gus. I had run for less than 10 minutes when I felt cramps in my legs and a slight dizziness in my head. I had company for the first 40 minutes, which kept me motivated to keep going, but my pace slowed to a crawl once I was left solo for the last 20. Those last twenty minutes felt longer and more painful than the entire previous four hours. Fortunately, I have had enough training experience to be able to pinpoint exactly why it didn't go well, and now I know what I need to correct next week. And I better correct it - next weekend holds a 100 mile ride on Saturday and a 16 mile run on Sunday.

I wouldn't say my brick today was all a loss; I did enjoy some of the ride. But I have noticed such a big difference in my attitude towards my training in the past three weeks. All the power I felt during the summer seems to have dissipated and I feel like I am waiting for the next 62 days to pass as quickly as possible (not that I'm counting...). I've found I dread running solely because of how much smog I'll breathe in and how many crude comments I'll get from the people in the community, which is so disheartening after my whole attitude toward the sport of triathlon changed this summer as I enjoyed mile after mile. I'm questioning why I signed up for this race, why I chose this city, why I always force myself to do things that are so extreme. When I think about the alternative - accepting mediocrity - I can answer the third question. When I walk around campus with a friend, I can answer the second. And when I look at my photos from the summer, from all the trips and rides and runs taken in the name of training, I know precisely the answer to the first. In over 2000 miles of riding, 350 miles of running, and 60 miles of swimming, I have experienced highs so euphoric I cannot stop smiling, and I have also been brought to tears to the point where I can hardly see the road in front of me. I found a reason to do what I do. And the reason has never been a finish line.