I’m now on the final page of my printed out training schedule. I can actually see the BIG DAY approaching, to which my mind says HOLY CRAP. I’m kind of freaking out a bit.
(sidenote: I’m almost over $1000 in donations for Alzheimer’s! 
)
Saturday, I rode my bike 92 miles. It was supposed to be 85, but I missed a turn in Tacoma and ended up a bit further south than I’d intended. It was a beautiful day, I nailed my nutrition/fluid intake, and most importantly, my new bike seat worked wonderfully, such that my ass didn’t hurt at all. I could tell I’d ridden 92 miles… I just didn’t mind. Here’s what 92 miles looks like, by the way (there’s an A under the I):
After my ride, I went with my friend Alida to pick up our race packets for the West Seattle 5K, which was taking place the following morning (Sunday). I’ve been informally coaching her for the past couple of months, and this was to be her first race of any kind, ever. I was supposed to run 16 miles for training, though, so I got there early and had myself a 13 mile warm up, which still sounds ridiculous even after having done it. In any case, it all went great, and Alida raced like a rockstar, and you can read all about that here.
After a delicious post-race lunch and one of the most epic naps ever, I headed for the beach to try and get some open water swim training done. I was supposed to do 2 miles, and I could swear the bouy data said the water was over 60 degrees last week, but MERCIFUL ZEUS was it ever cold (and felt more like 55 degrees or less). I cut the swim short at just a half mile, for fear of going hypothermic (and yes, I was wearing a wetsuit). Oh well. I got to hang out with some geese and their goslings for a bit, at least, and that was fun.
Back to the freaking out… yeah, I’m totally freaking out. Whenever I’m really nervous about something, I usually react by staying up all night watching TV and eating copious bowls of cereal. This has happened twice in the past 2 weeks, which, of course, doesn’t help with the training/recovery. I think I’m out of the woods there, though.
Getting that 92 mile ride under my belt has helped a lot to soothe my nerves, especially with the 16 mile run the next morning. I’m confident now that I will not only survive Ironman, but may even enjoy myself for most of it. I think a goal of 15 hours to finish is definitely reasonable, but I’ve got my eye on that 14 hour mark. It’s going to be a LONG damn day, in any event, and it’s still unknown how my body will react to such a lengthy ordeal.
I’m starting to look forward to finding out.