I know, this doesn't sound like the title of a very positive post. But hear me out.
My experience this morning might just show that they are the ultimate motivators: Fear of failure and procrastinating past the point of no return.
Forced recovery
I've been on forced recovery this week... otherwise known as the 'common cold'!
Physically, I think I'm on the mend. Mentally and emotionally, I keep thinking about the 120k ride I should have done on Sunday, and the 22k run I should have done on Wednesday.
Physically, I think I'm on the mend. Mentally and emotionally, I keep thinking about the 120k ride I should have done on Sunday, and the 22k run I should have done on Wednesday.
Paying it forward
Befriending older gents is nothing new to the Athletic Powerhouse. I've previously documented on the Triathlete Chronicles how Lake Tinaroo local Bob provided me with ridiculous amounts of outside assistance at my first Half Ironman, and the way an unnamed Belgian man coached me through my ascent of Col du Galibier.
This morning I had the opportunity to pay it forward to a 50 year old woman I encountered trail running at Bunyaville state forest.
This morning I had the opportunity to pay it forward to a 50 year old woman I encountered trail running at Bunyaville state forest.
Even superheroes have to shower
When you're training for an Ironman and working full time, you have to find ways to manage your time super effectively.
Most days, this means I shower at work, after either training from work or on the way to work, or going straight to work after training. OK, so a shower isn't glamorous, or perhaps even remotely interesting. But it's one of the ways the Athletic Powerhouse comes into her own.
Most days, this means I shower at work, after either training from work or on the way to work, or going straight to work after training. OK, so a shower isn't glamorous, or perhaps even remotely interesting. But it's one of the ways the Athletic Powerhouse comes into her own.
Lost in navigation
Good Friday today so to earn the Humpty Dumpty egg KKB gave me I launched with gusto into the trail run that was set as a bit of a change to my regular Friday water run.
My coach is at home off road, but me not so much. Still, I had a map, on which I'd highlighted the route I was to take. I was running less than 10ks from the City at Mt Coot-tha so not much could go wrong.
My coach is at home off road, but me not so much. Still, I had a map, on which I'd highlighted the route I was to take. I was running less than 10ks from the City at Mt Coot-tha so not much could go wrong.
My trusty Garmin. I hope.
My run Ks are starting to build and today after a recovery week last week, I was back up to 18Ks.
I ran a fairly flat run along the river this morning towards New Farm Park, familiar territory that I frequented a lot during last year's marathon training. As always I ran with my trusty Garmin. These days it's the only way I know how far I've run.
I don't remember feeling especially good this morning, or fast. But my Garmin tells me otherwise.
I ran a fairly flat run along the river this morning towards New Farm Park, familiar territory that I frequented a lot during last year's marathon training. As always I ran with my trusty Garmin. These days it's the only way I know how far I've run.
I don't remember feeling especially good this morning, or fast. But my Garmin tells me otherwise.
Like deja vu
I am tired, emotional, and physically bereft. Today's ride took in two of south-east Queensland's best climbs, and was long, lonely and hilly.
It was my longest day in the saddle to date in my current training program; the first of more to come this time around. It felt reminiscent of the first long training ride I did for my first Ironman, a ride which my friends and I still look back on with pain, pride, and disbelief.
My first Ironman predates this blog, and I haven't spent much time tripping down memory lane. This story deserves to be told though, because it has become pivotal in forming not only my training mindset, but also my friendships with Annie and Jill (my fellow "Ironmoles"). It's one of our favourite war stories.
It was my longest day in the saddle to date in my current training program; the first of more to come this time around. It felt reminiscent of the first long training ride I did for my first Ironman, a ride which my friends and I still look back on with pain, pride, and disbelief.
My first Ironman predates this blog, and I haven't spent much time tripping down memory lane. This story deserves to be told though, because it has become pivotal in forming not only my training mindset, but also my friendships with Annie and Jill (my fellow "Ironmoles"). It's one of our favourite war stories.
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