Fear Itself (Thanks FDR)

So, here we are.  Five weeks out from Ironman.  Lotta season left.  But for all intents and purposes, a "What the hell comes next" mentality.

Well let me just tell you what comes next.

It's sort of crazy.  Back in 2010 and 2011, Ironman #1 and #2 definitely left me in a funk.  I finished, met my goals for both (Sub 14 and Sub 13 finishes, respectively), and walked away feeling great about it, but with a "what now" feeling.

I fixed it in 2010 by doing another Ironman.

I fixed it in 2011 by family planning.

Before anyone gets crazy with the cheez whiz, both those are off the table, especially the latter!

This time around, I have had no post Ironman funk.  Of course, there is little doubt in my mind that I came nowhere near close to executing the race based on my fitness, so there is the general let down post race, but moreso a let down of myself.  While I am proud to have finished relatively well in the elements, I know in my heart that I let the beast get to me both in Lake Placid and in 2018 as a whole, and that bums me out.

A two wheeled beast.  In other words, my damn bike.

I've been a triathlete for 13 years.  For those of you that don't know my history, I got hit by a car back in 2008 while riding and separated my shoulder and became immensely afraid of road riding.

For those of you that don't know me as a person, I am one of the most uncoordinated people on earth to begin with.  Which means even in the best situation, I fall on my ass clipping in and out of my bike, and can't steer it while eating a power bar to save my soul.  I don't have aero nutrition because it looks cool, it's because I struggle to maneuver bottle cages.  I don't ride and grab food aid at stations.  I stop.  And here's the biggie....I've never ridden in aero.  Ever.

Did I stutter?  Nope.  For years, I've been a mid pack swimmer, a bottom third rider, and a rescuer of races with a top 25% of field run.

But I learned a hard lesson this year.  You can't outrun a bad bike.  You just can't.

So as my run has gotten better and better, I run more because I like it.  I bike less because...I don't.  But when the bike is over half the race, you set yourself up for failure.

Greg and I don't compete.  Really.  We use each other as rabbits, friendly ribbing, but that's about it.  For years, we have decided he races better in short course, and I do better in long course.  And for years, his slightly faster bike and swim gave him the edge short course, and my run beat him out in long course.

That changed this year.  I watched him in both races swim the same as me (less than a minute difference) and then just haul out guns blazing on a bike while I fell behind, and then I ran out of room to catch up on the run.  I know there was a contingent of Roc folks (love you guys) that watched me try to catch him on the marathon course at Placid.  I'm proud of gaining those 43 minutes.  But he still grabbed the overall faster time....because his bike split was 55 minutes faster.

Because I am afraid.  I am afraid of speed on the Keene descent.  I'm afraid of not holding the brakes in aero.  And I sat myself into a huge nutritional hole because I am afraid to eat a clif bar on the fly.

Since I didn't know what to do with this, after Placid, I sat my bike in a corner.  I have ridden her once (on the trainer, of course).  There is a choice to make.  Greg signed up for a sprint tri last weekend, and he waxed it.  He set a new personal best, and came in 11th overall.  He is on fire.  I am so proud of him.  But at the same time, I am more and more bummed about my relationship with my bike.  It's the first tri I haven't done since 2005 with him where I wasn't pregnant.  I made the active choice to sit it out because I hate my bike.

One of our friends at the tri, after I spilled some of my guts, looked at me and logically said "Well, why don't you just do Aquathon (Swim Run) or run?"  And she's probably right.  But it doesn't feel right.  It feels like quitting.  And at the bottom of it, I DO like riding, and the sport of triathlon - it's better whole body training, the athletes are way more fun, and it's what Greg and I DO.  But I've let my weakness grow and haven't addressed it the way I should to the point of where it's do or die time.

I know.  Who does 3 Ironmans with a fear of the bike?  Me, I guess.  I never said I was reasonable.

So...what's next?  Well, I need to step away.  I need to miss it.  To miss those hours training.  To have the desire to put on a helmet and brave the roads.  To go to a parking lot with my 5 year old son and learn how to ride bikes again.  To just do it.

But now...I don't.  So I'm doing what I love.  I signed up for a half marathon this weekend, because dammit, I love running.  And it's at my Alma Mater (Geneseo).  And it's good prep for my fall marathon.  I'm running 6 days a week and damn it feels good.

Is it enough?  I don't know.  But I do know I need redemption.  This season has been a giant failure save for a new 10k PR at an Olympic Tri (WHO DOES THAT?).  It's time to end the season with a bang and think about what 2019 brings.

Never boring around here, for sure...right??