Doing an Ironman is not a part-time endeavor. The race will be, for the 6-9 months that you train for it, the guiding force in your life. You will spend many hours each week training for Ironman. You will spend even more hours each week thinking, dreaming, talking, reading, and surfing the Internet about Ironman. Ironman will consume you!
Your life will revolve around training (up to 20 hours a week), sleeping (going to bed by 9 pm and getting up before dairy farmers and West Coast stock brokers), food (you can and want to eat everything in sight), and drink (I have seven forms of liquid in my fridge). Your social life will involve 5 am master’s swims, Saturday rides, and Sunday runs. If you are married, have children, or have friends who are not triathletes, Heaven help them!
Your conversations will revolve around your past triathlon experiences, your training program, your race goals, gathering training and race tips from experienced Ironman finishers and tri-mags, and figuring out which of the always-conflicting tips you should accept. You will be consumed by equipment and technology. You will ask essential life questions, such as “Will an aero seatpost make me faster?,” “700’s or 650’s?,” and “What is your favorite energy bar?”
You will obsess about the minutiae of triathlon. You will buy videos on swim technique. You will call the top pros by their nicknames-“Hey, Macca, Walto!” You will read the latest research on Ironman nutrition. You will look forward to going to your local tri-store hoping there is something you forgot to buy that you absolutely must have. You will make lists of what you will need in your Ironman, what you will put in each transition and special-needs bag, and what you will have to do the day before and the day of the race.
You will live for your daily workouts. You will have trouble falling asleep because you can’t wait to get up the next day and train. You will compulsively record every detail of your training program in your computer: distance, time, intensity, heart rate, splits, strokes per length, miles per hour, minutes per mile. You will track your progress. You will wonder how a person can enjoy swimming 100 laps in a 21.88-yard pool and riding a bike for over seven hours, and then you will understand how. You will revel in completing your first two-mile swim, 100-mile ride, and 20-mile run. You will add, “brick,” to your vocabulary and use it proudly. You will extrapolate your training and shorter-distance race times to your Ironman (bad idea!). You will add up your weekly volume every Sunday and gush with pride as you approach 20 hours.
You will develop a deep and abiding hatred of water bottles. You will have at least 10 water bottles at some point in a never-ending cycle of Ironman life; on your bike, in the sink soaking with soapy water, in the dish rack drying, or taking up an entire counter in your kitchen poised, seemingly eagerly, to return to your bike.
You will arrive late to work, take long lunch breaks, and leave early. You will fall asleep at your desk. You will pray that you have a forgiving boss or be thankful you are your own boss. You will not get fired. Your body will look different—leaner, more muscular, harder.
You will walk differently: a new spring in your step, a bit of swagger in your gait. You will feel differently—energized, yet tired, relaxed, yet jazzed. You will think differently: more confident, determined, and focused. After never having experienced the runner’s high, you will get the “tri-high” regularly. You will begin to think training is better than sex.
You will experience more emotional highs and lows in one day than you usually feel in a week. You will feel excitement, frustration, hope, anger, despair, doubt, awe, sadness, and inspiration. You will constantly question the meaning of your life and why you are doing an Ironman—and you will come up with different answers every time. You will dream of qualifying for Kona, even if the only chance you have is to win the lottery. You will smile with joy at the thought of being an Ironman and cringe in fear at the thought of not finishing.
After the race, you will feel like you are about to explode with pride. You won’t want to take off your finisher’s medal. You will look forward to wearing all of that over-priced, yet so worth it, Ironman clothing that you bought. You will savor that first workout when you wear the hat or shirt that announces to the world that you are an Ironman. You will feel special, like having joined an exclusive club. You can now say, “I am an Ironman.”
Well, that is the way it was for me. You may be different.
