Week 24 sunk...like a tank. And not in a good way. My planned week of 18 hours turned into a struggle to get in 6 hours. It started out fine enough with an 8 mile run on Tuesday and a decent swim on Wednesday. On Wed night I nodded off on my aerobars. Thankfully I was on the trainer and not the road. But I was really proud that my legs never stopped spinning. Ken looked at me like I was out of my freakin mind. By Thursday, it was all I could do to put in 2 loops around Lacamas Lake...and that knocked me out for the night by 7pm. On Friday I did a short swim and then went to work crying because I was so tired. I bagged my Friday night run. And then stupidly got up on Saturday morning and began what was supposed to be a 70-miler at 7am. Have you realized how COLD it is at 7am now? And dark? I arrived at the gym almost an hour later (and almost 10 minutes slower than it normally takes me) and was done. Done. Shaking, shivering, spewing mucous from everywhere. Done. My body had quit IM about 6 weeks too early. I sulked to Nadine's car and she drove me home where I took a piping hot shower and crawled under lots of blankets. Sunday was spent watching sucky football games and force feeding myself multi-vitamins, supplements, and various healthy food stuffs. I think I gained 3 pounds just from soup and other fluids.
You're probably reading this and thinking "why would someone put themselves through all of that?" or maybe, if you're a triathlete, you're thinking "why didn't she take a rest day sooner?" I'm still struggling with the answer to the first one. It's hard to explain unless you've had a similar drive to do Ironman...or something equally stupid, er, challenging for you. The answer to the second question is that I'M SCARED. It doesn't matter how many times people tell me that I'm going to finish. It's still f'n SCARY! And nothing is guaranteed. Yes, a more fitting title for this blog would be "Training Scared".