Ironman Training Is.

Ironman training is...painful.

You get blisters. Lose toenails. Body parts that you previously didn't know existed ache, chafe, throb, swell. It's like being stuck in an ultimate cage fight with an irritable grizzly just out of hibernation each and every weekend. It chews you up, spits you out, and yet you come back a few days later and go at it again. It doesn't care how tired and hurting you are, you have to dig deep, find a way to press on, suck it up, get out of that freakin' cage fight in one piece...then line right back up to do it again. It's very much in the Thank you, sir, may I please have another? camp. It sucks. It's awesome. It hurts.

Ironman training is...for masochists.

Suffice to say, you have to enjoy pain to make it through a full Ironman training plan. Feel the high as your legs are screaming at you during the tempo run. Savor the fire in your lungs after you've completed 10x100 sprints in the pool. Smile at that God awful pain in your low back after you've put 80...90...100+ miles on the bike. The pain gets you off (no, not in that way...or maybe it does, whatever your fancy)...it lets you know you're alive. Pain pulses through your veins and you thrive on it. This shit is not for the faint of heart. If you ever sign up for one of these beasts and think it's as simple as following a plan, you are sorely mistaken. Be prepared for world of hurt. The more you sweat in training. The less you'll bleed in war. So you best be working up enough sweat to fill an olympic pool.

Ironman training is...lonely.

You really have to enjoy hanging out with yourself to win the Ironman training battle. Sure you can have training partners and riding buddies and friends who will run with you once in a while, but even when you're with them, you're still alone. Most of the time it's you, your thoughts, your demons and the open road. You'll sing songs to yourself to get you through the long ride. Perfect the fine art of snot rockets, peeing on the bike (please note: I do not do this!), and belching--you know, the kind that comes deep from your toes, repulses civilians, and impresses the pants off of runners, cyclists and triathletes alike. You have to be willing to get in your own head...get a little mental...allow yourself to cry when you don't think you can take another step...bribe yourself...know how to give yourself a pep talk when you're on the verge of throwing in the towel...celebrate tiny victories on your own because there isn't another sole in sight to share your pride. It isn't pretty...but you really find out exactly what you're made of when you're on your own for 6...7...8...or in my case 12+ hours.

Ironman training is...stupid.

Not stupid in the sense following a plan is stupid. That's actually really smart. But stupid as in you get to do a lot of stupid things. Like a bike-run-bike-run-bike-run brick from hell in 105 degree heat with 100% humidity. Or like a night-time open water swim when the water temps are topping out at 52 degrees (if you're lucky) and the air temps start with the number 4. There are all sorts of cruel and unusual punishments that come with Ironman training and being willing to embrace each one to the best of your ability is key. And just when you think you've seen it all, you look at your schedule and see that your Coach has prescribed you a weekend consisting of a 2+ mile swim, 21 mile run and a 120 mile bike with a 90 minute transition run off the back, a weekend you fondly refer to as The Meat Grinder. Stupid. Kind of like training for a late season Ironman in Chicago...where it's already starting to feel like winter. Grrrrr...but that's my own damn fault.

Ironman training is...a privilege.

I feel so incredibly lucky that my body has cooperated with me for this long. Athletes definitely take our bodies for granted. At any moment, we have the potential to have everything we've worked for come crashing to a halt. Accidents happen. Injuries happen. The fact we're even alive is a privilege. Making it to the start line prepared and in one piece is half the battle. Making every day and every workout count is exhausting. But in the end, you have to step back and remind yourself just how lucky you are to be able to run 18 miles. Not everyone can. And there are countless people who would give up everything to be in our position.

Ironman training is...

...neverending.

...too long.

...not long enough.

...for people who really like training.

...expensive.

...a test.

...necessary.

...exhausting.

...inspiring.

...hunger-inducing.

...full of whining.

...and ice baths.

...and I cant's.

...and I can's.

...and I will's.

That, my friends...is what Ironman training is.