The Longest Recovery in Ironman History

I had done three Ironman-distance races and thirteen 70.3's before Ironman Boulder. As a coach, I've seen dozens and dozens of long-course triathlon recoveries. I know what a normal recovery looks like and what it feels like. My recovery from Ironman Boulder was nothing close to normal.

Granted, my race wasn't normal either. You can read the full race report here, but I'll summarize my day with this statement:

When you are running and your forearms are sore it’s because your body has pulled all the glycogen out of them. When your body is resorting to finding glycogen in your forearms you are seriously fucked.

So, yeah, I think it's reasonable to presume that I finished the race with maybe close to zero glycogen reserves in my body. Here are some other facts supporting my hypothesis:

Life Is What Happens When You're Busy Making Other Plans

I am in Kona this week as part of 303Triathlon's media team covering the 2018 Ironman World Championship race. It's an incredible experience, and I feel lucky to be here on the big island for the single biggest day of the triathlon season. At the same time, being surrounded by triathletes at the peak of their elite fitness level feels like a slap in the face to my current pathetic existence of shuffling along at something kind of resembling a walk. I can't even get down stairs properly. I almost-not-jokingly want to wear a sign around my neck explaining that I'm three weeks post-bilateral bunion surgery, and really this is not who I normally am. More so, this is not who I was supposed to be this week - I was supposed to be in near peak Ironman-fitness myself. But apparently life had other plans.

Four Things I've Learned as a Coached Triathlon Coach

I've been a triathlete for nearly a decade and have been a triathlon coach for nearly four years, but this is my first stint at being a coached triathlon coach. Layer onto that the fact that I am a highly opinionated, strong type A, serious control freak, logical-coach-by-day, classic-headcase-athlete-by-night, and you can imagine that my adjustment window from self-coaching to being coached has been ... interesting.

It's taken me about four months to settle in - yup, FOUR MONTHS - but I've learned some great things along the way.

O.M.F. ... My Coach Is Trying to Kill Me

For starters, there is not a typo in the title. Sometimes OMG is not enough. But before I get to my OMF moment, allow me to backtrack ...

I started working with my new coach, Julie, on November 1st. After two years of self-coaching, I decided this past summer that self-coaching is a ludicrous concept for two reasons: (1) you don't have the distance or perspective to talk yourself out of a "taper tantrum" (full credit for this term going to my husband); and (2) you are never going to put a workout on your own calendar that you are truly scared of. Just not going to happen. At least, not in my world.

Fat, Drunk, and Out of Shape is No Way to Go Through Life

That's the line that's been going through my head almost daily for the past four weeks, ever since my off-season got extended well beyond what I'd intended. (And yes, it's an Animal House reference.)

I'll back up by saying that I am a strong believer in the importance of an off-season, on having some time when your focus isn't on training: When fitting in your workout isn't the driving force behind how you organize every day. When you have the option to go for a hike or take a yoga class instead of a swim/bike/run workout. When you ease back on the miles and give your muscles and your joints some time to recover.