1 down 29 to go!

Week one training complete. Just 29 left to go.
 It's not really felt like training though, for one thing I'm on holiday and it's been more like playing out with my mates and having fun, which accounts for why I've done more than I need to. The bible, according to Don Fink, decrees that thou shall complete 6 hours of training in week one, comprising 2 swims, 3 runs and 3 bikes. I've done that, they've just been a bit longer/harder than suggested - surely that's not a sin?
I mean, if Christmas Eve is not a time for enjoying an 8-mile hill run with pals, then when is? Fair enough, the conditions were pretty horrendous and left to my own devices I'm not sure I'd have done it. Which goes to show I hang around with nutters who don't let the small matter of a Met Office weather warning ruin their training opportunities! The wind was howling at gale force as we tracked our way up Ben Bouie to the Christmas tree. A fir tree, which is decorated in tinsel and trimmings all year round. Great views over Loch Lomond and the Clyde from the top. Not that much time was spent admiring the views - we could barely stand upright in the howling wind.
 I have IronPhil to blame for the second of my training excesses. Among my many exciting Christmas gifts ... bike tools, cycle helmet, The Grid (a hardcore foam roller designed to make you howl with pain as you roll around the lounge ironing out all manner of knots in your weary muscles), was a copy of a Sufferfest DVD. For the uninitiated, Sufferfest is exactly what it says on the tin. An American turbo- training cult - you pop in the DVD, get on your turbo trainer, watch a film of pro-cyclists doing what they do best and listen to the commentator yelling instructions at you as you try to keep up with them. Needless to say, this equates to much suffering. So much so, that as I played with my new present on Christmas Day I swear to God my eyeballs were actually sweating - or maybe it was just the blood that was pounding in my ears finding a way out. So while IronPhil sweated over a turkey dinner, I did a tough brick session - one hour of turbo suffering followed by a 15-minute transition run.

Day 3 dawned with some calmer weather, so friends arrived bright and early for a tour of our killer hills by bike. As we all reached the top of the Glen Fruin hairpins IronPhil and I couldn't decide if we still had friends, but they were still smiling and insisting they had enjoyed a good start to their Boxing Day celebrations.
So to spread the icing on the week one cake, I joined pals from Helensburgh Amateur Athletics Club, for the annual Cashel Hill run. I am so lucky to have a great playground on my doorstep and this is no exception. A tough 7k hill run on the banks of Loch Lomond. Yes, it's for charity, festive fun and handicapped start times to make it even more jolly. Trouble is, something happens when I pin a number to my top, and so, with a damning handicap time that saw me start with only 3 mountain goats behind me and IronPhil with 14-year-old son Cameron up ahead - I had my work cut out. Feeling sick from the effort of catching IronPhil and worrying that he was hot on my heels during the descent, I missed the last turn and finished in the wrong place for the second year running. At least I don't have to navigate in Bolton!

I will pace myself better as the weeks tick by, I know I will have to if I'm going to survive what is set to become a gruelling schedule - but right now it's Christmas, it's the holidays and this is what I do for fun - happy days!

And so the journey begins....

This is it, day one is dawning. Sunday marks the start of the Ironjourney. In exactly 30-weeks time I will plunge into the murky waters of Pennington Flash to swim 2.4 miles, cycle 112 miles through the Lancashire countryside, climbing 5249ft and pound the streets of Bolton for 26.2 miles - all to claim the bragging rights to declare myself an Ironman.
Am I ready to start - hell yes! I've been steadily plugging away for months now, building a good fitness base. I've been training my body by strengthening my core with hundreds of squats, planks and more; rolling my sore muscles over a foam cylinder to keep them supple and swimming, biking and running 6 days a week. I've also been training my mind - training it to ignore the 'voices'. No, I'm not mentally deranged (although some would beg to differ!) I just hear the same voices as everybody else. Some days they're screaming: "You're too tired." "Far too busy." "You deserve a glass of wine, it's been a bad day." "You haven't spent enough time with your family recently, you can't go out again." "The house is a bombsite." "Sleep and rest are more beneficial today." "You can't possibly go out in that weather!" Sound familiar? They're like an unwanted mantra, programmed to repeat over and over again. Just because I go out and ignore them, doesn't mean I don't hear them. They are loud, frequent and clear. But I'm getting better at silencing them.
The bottom line is - train today when you really don't want to because you never know what tomorrow will bring. I always work on that philosphy. You never really know what life will throw at you tomorrow - you might feel really unwell, the kids might be sick, you might have even more work to do, the weather might be even worse!
I'm lucky too, because I have the added voice of IronPhil, aka 'reason'. He is very good at cutting through the nonsense. If I'm being lily-livered about cycling in the wind and rain, he provides a good kick up the necessary. If I'm stressing about fitting it all in; he reminds me that I'm not doing this for a living!
It is important to gain perspective - I am prone to being 'a slave to the schedule' which is good because it drives me, but it's also good to remember, as IronPhil says - this is just a hobby - it's something I've chosen to do for pleasure!
As these next 30 weeks tick by, I must keep that perspective. As I plough through the depths of winter I will record a whole set of new voices to talk to me - when I'm soaked to the skin, frozen to the core, weary and challenged. They'll be screaming: "This is just for fun." "Remember, it's your hobby." "You're lucky to be fit enough to do this." "Nobody forced you - it was your choice." "Maria Dye, you are an Ironman!" It's this final voice that rings in my ears and keeps me going when I want to stop,
because I know I will only ever hear these words when I cross the finish line in Bolton on July 21st 2014. Bring it on!

It's all mental

I've had a little medical issue to deal with over the last two weeks, which has distracted me slightly. But I had to laugh when I read my GP's referral note to the hospital. It described me as "an elite athlete"! So I've taken a photo of it and I might just get it framed!

I know it was her way of explaining to medical staff why i have such a low resting pulse rate - but it gave my family something to laugh about. There's nothing "elite' about me, I know that for sure. But as I sat in the hospital waiting room, I was definitely the odd one out - not overweight, not over 60, not about to hang up my running shoes for slippers any time in the foreseeable! So, after that blip I've enjoyed a week of positivity, and as a teacher I know only too well how a small pat on the back goes a long way. Last Monday, the toughest of tough swim coaches said: "Have you been practising? Because you're starting to look like a swimmer." I ignored the cheekiness and took it as a compliment. This is the swim coach who put us through a '6-killer-swims-a-week' schedule to swim the 24-mile length of Loch Lomond, so he knows how I swim and if I've improved.
Next, I had a hilly bike session with IronPhil. Now, descending is not my forte. As a cyclist friend of mine once said: "I brake like a girly." I do, I do and there's no shame in it. If my brain is screaming 'slow down you might crash and die', then my hands obey and squeeze the brake levers ... mind over matter, I can't help it! Well, progress is being made, because as we reached the bottom of one of our regular, smooth and quite fast descents, he didn't have to wait for me to catch up. Despite the wind and rain, I kept him in my sights as I merely 'feathered' my brakes (technical term which roughly translates as light braking for wimps who don't have the balls to build up too much speed!) Even better, I reached the summit of one of our steep, hairpin climbs ahead of him, had time to stop, unclip and have a drink before he appeared. (I have to add that IronPhil claims it was due to dodgy rear derailleur issues) but I'll take a training victory whenever I can.
Also very kind training pal, Laura, nominated me on the Glasgow 2014 Commonwealth Games website as Sports Star of the Week. Embarrassed but proud.

You see, I'm surrounded by an elite bunch of healthy, fit, go-getters - any one of them could do this if they really wanted to. I think once you've signed up for something huge, it ceases to be quite as big and you begin to forget how enormous it looks form the outside. It simply becomes a series of small, steady steps in one direction. Keep following them and you will get there. You just have to really, really want it; and I really, really want it! Some of it is physical, but most of it's mental ... totally, nutcrackingly mental!