A pact with the Devil

I was beginning to think I'd become a bit obsessive about this whole Ironman thing. I do feel my life has become a repetitive cycle of eat, sleep, work, train...talk and think about training! That was until last night when my mate Oliver called. After 15-mins I suddenly felt quite normal, in fact, more than that I felt like a bit of  a lazy slacker. Ol is also dabbling in his own Ironfest. A half this year, but there's more to come. The thing about Ol is that he doesn't do things by halves. He's also following the same training plan up to his big race in May. So we discovered we'd both just completed Fink's week 5. I'd done it my way and Ol had done it by the book - fully tooled up with heart rate monitor, cadence monitor, Garmin, and God only knows what else. So when he said: "Jeez that Wednesday turbo sesh was really hard - 45 mins in zone 2 at 100 rpm!" I started to realise that my 6am effort was maybe not quite hard enough! He then went on to recommend a book about body fat percentages and confessed he'd even bought the calipers to check his body fat. Right, that did it - I quickly realised that I needed to take this training more seriously. I went straight to the kitchen drawer, took out the BBQ tongs, and checked whether I could pinch anything fatter than a Cumberland sausage! Relieved to discover nothing more sinister than a wee chipolata - I packed my kit bag and headed far, far away from the world of techno-training to the muddy, rolling hills of Fife, with my running club team mates, for the annual hill race relay - the Devil's Burden.

Even the name is enough to make you realise that this is an event for the hardy. Forget monitors, when the mist comes down, the wind howls and the rain batters holy hell out of you, only a pact with Satan is going to get you to the finish.
I did stress a bit about the whole day being taken up for a 5-mile hill run, but IronPhil dragged me back to reality, reminding me that if I didn't keep up with some of the races I love, I would start to resent my training. So, as I happily ploughed through muddy bog, clawed my way up steep, slippery hillsides and bounded downhill, chasing my gazelle-like pal Laura, I forgot all about zones, times, reps and body mass index. Hill running is a sport like no other. No matter how fit or tough you think you are, you're guaranteed to be dragged back down to earth, as wiry old guys, with wispy grey hair and the body fat of a racing greyhound, effortlessly glide past you. In fact, a few years ago at the same race, I overheard a couple of old guys discussing the merits of removing your teeth before the race to stop them falling out as they had the year before when they hurtled downhill! Apparently, they landed in the mud and were lost forever! (True!)
I hold these guys in high esteem. If I can still do this in my 70's I'll be one happy pensioner.
Plus, these guys aren't sporting the latest hi-tech kit - forget breathable, wicking, lightweight, lycra, full body cover - these mountain goats are still sporting trusty old trainers, favourite shorts and cotton vests. They're not worrying about heart rate, cadence, body fat - they're just out there .... doing it.
 I bet they're downing a few beers tonight too! Which begs the question - why am I sitting here on a Saturday night sipping raspberry juice and scanning Wiggle for new kit?!

Time to rest

God I love rest days. There is nothing to beat that feeling of going to bed knowing your alarm isn't set with a 6 in it; a whole day stretching ahead without the need to perform any major juggling acts...bliss!
Ok, you're thinking,  'she's hit week 4 and the novelty's wearing off'. Knew this would happen. Knew it!
No, it hasn't, I've still got my mojo intact. But rest days are a bit like holidays. You know that feeling when you reach the last work day before a holiday? Trouble is, you have to work to appreciate it. The same goes with training. If you take an extra day off because you're tired, injured or just too busy, it isn't nearly as satisfying as a chosen rest day. Just like being sick and taking a day off work isn't anything like a well-earned holiday.

So, to capitalise on that, I'm trying to take a rest day at the weekend. Normally, weekends are the holy grail of long distance work. So your long bike ride and your long run would usually be scheduled in to the two days when you have the most time. But, I try to squeeze my long run in after work on Friday. Until the runs top about 15 miles or two-hours plus, I reckon that's fine.
It's also sad, but true, that I quite enjoy shaking off the cobwebs and getting out for a run at the end of the working week. Last night, I even managed to get out in daylight after bidding my young charges a good weekend, it was a case of lock the classroom door, quick change, then running out of school, hot on their heels at 3.10pm! Back an hour later which still left a couple of hours to mark jotters before the cleaners were ready to lock up at 6.30pm. Train smart - use your time well. It left me with quite a smug feeling as I drove home.
Rest days are a pretty vital part of any programme though. The science behind them is simple and conclusive - your body breaks down during training, it suffers micro-damage, that's normal. With rest, it can rebuild and it rebuilds stronger. the International Triathlon Union recommends planning your rest periods first, then building your training around them. I'm not going to argue with that!

Being on week 4, also means that this has been a slightly easier week. Without getting too scientific, most balanced training programmes work on the principle of periodisation. Which basically means 3 weeks of gradual build, slightly longer or slightly more intensity, then the fourth week you drop back a fraction. In reality, this has meant some of my runs/bikes have been 15mins shorter this week. As I look ahead to the next 4 weeks, my total training time is building to 10-hours a week. I think of it as slapping down more concrete on the foundations.
As for today, time to catch up with housework, schoolwork and then a trip to watch the rugby, Glasgow Warriors v Toulon (chance to see Jonny Wilkinson in action!) with my son Sam...it's what weekends were made for.

Something's got to give...

Had an interesting conversation with a friend this week. She wanted to know what gives. Fair question and one I'd not really thought about before. I just try to juggle all the balls, but some days I drop the red ones, other days it's the green and so on. But when I really thought about it I guess there are some balls I drop more often than others - housework, watching TV and generally chilling out. Luckily I've always been able to happily ignore housework - it'll still be standing when I'm not. I like the phrase about a tidy house reflecting a dull life, or something along those lines!  As for doing coffee with friends, nights out and feet up in front of the TV - do I miss it? No, not really, it's not like I never do it, just not as often as some. At the end of the day this is only a short time in my life, just over six months in fact. Hopefully friends will still be around after the summer. I know the TV won't have moved. If I've missed a few nights out, so what? There'll be plenty more to come. Nothing worth having in life comes without a bit of hard work and effort - that's what makes it worthwhile. If it was easy - everyone would do it!

Let the fun begin....

This is the point when the title of my blog becomes a reality ... when will I sleep? I'm beginning to ask myself that question. Two weeks of training have been happily completed in luxurious style. Week 3 commences tomorrow, so does work, so does reality.
My base programme lasts for 10-weeks and is really all about laying the foundations for what's to come. I've taken a look, got the general gist of it, but I'm not really dwelling on weeks 10-30, except to note that the number of training hours peaks at 20! Right now, in the base training phase, the maximum number of hours per week peaks at 11-hours.
So all I'm having to find just now is 7-8 hours to sweat. If I start to stumble at the first hurdle, I've got no hope. Luckily, I'm a fairly organised person, you have to be just to be a working mum. I've also got two great teenage sons who are as lazy as the rest when they want to be, but can rustle up a decent meal for the family and cycle to activities when a parent taxi isn't available. I've also got the most supportive husband in the world, he's 100 per cent behind my Iron endeavour and I know will be on hand to do all the things I can't as the training ramps up. More crucial than that, I know my family will not begrudge the time I'm spending or moan when I can't be wonder wife or wonder mum. I couldn't do this without that support. Ironman training is selfish, it has to be, you can't afford to skimp on it and hope to complete 140 miles on a wing and a prayer. Like most mums, being selfish goes against the grain. We give and give and sacrifice for our families; of course we don't think of it like that, it's just what mums do. But I have earmarked six selfish months. It's clearly not a sabbatical, I can only dream of how blissfully easy it would be to only have myself and my job to worry about. The challenge I've set myself is as much about organising my life as it is about finding my physical limits.
So, I'm sitting here surrounded by lists. Lists of all the meals we will eat this week, lists of all the activities and appointments the four of us need to attend this week, a list of all the training I need to do, lists of all the work I need to do for school.
I'm not going to harp on about what's involved with being a teacher, I get paid for it, I love the holidays and I enjoy my job, well most of it! However, suffice to say that contrary to popular belief, my average weekly hours regularly amount to 50+. I don't start at 9am and finish at 3pm. It's more like 8.15am to 5pm Monday to Friday, plus a few more hours each night at home and a chunk of time at the weekend. The start of term is always the hardest with mountains of planning and paperwork. So if a list of what the family are going to eat each day of the week sounds incredibly dull - it is - but it's how I survive and ensure we all eat good, healthy food!
Goodbye holidays, so long spontaneity...hello term-time!
The hardest part of my week right now is fitting in two double-training days. That looks like Monday and Thursday this week, when I'm going to have to set my alarm for 6.15am to turbo or run for 45-mins. I'll swim both evenings with Lomond Masters Swimming Club. Over the last two weeks I've just tagged a half-hour run or cycle onto the swim session, but 45-mins is just that bit longer. To get the best of out both sessions I think I need to separate them. Also, I don't have enough time at night to put them back to back because I need to eat, mark schoolwork, taxi children and at some point .... sleep!
The fun starts here - wish me luck.