Fighting Fit

This week I’ve gone from wonder woman to wonder where that woman’s gone!

Started the week feeling like a dynamo. This dawn o’clock training was becoming so ingrained in my routine that I don't even flinch when the alarm goes off at 5.45am. It's a case of: alarm rings, feet hit the floor, pj’s to lycra in less than 5 mins – within 10 I'm pounding the pavements or spinning in the saddle … easy peasy! Even better, I'm strolling off to work as if nothing unusual has happened. Jeez, I wasn't half feeling proud of my progress, even a little bit smug! You know that irritatingly jolly: “good morning all, I've been up for hours,” singing in the bathroom, chattering incessantly, skipping up the stairs and being far too lively, while those around you yawn and stretch, unable to mutter more than two words!

So here’s my week:

Mon: 5.45am – turbo 1hr 15mins. Evening: Masters swim session.

Tues: 5.45am – run 8miles. Evening: Core work 

Wed: 5.45am – turbo 45mins, run 30 mins. Evening – 100 lengths steady swim.

That’s when it all went pear-shaped!

By 8.45pm that smug, I’ve got this all in the bag, had been sucked out of me; length by mind-numbingly painful length; and left to rot in the bottom of Helensburgh Swimming Pool!

Swimming, swimming, swimming – if there is one thing I swear I will never do again after this is over, it’s swim 100+ lengths of a pool – never, ever, ever!

I don’t really dislike swimming, in fact I’m pretty chuffed with how far I’ve come. Three years ago, I couldn’t swim more than one length of a pool doing the front crawl, without puffing, wheezing and panting. Never in my wildest did I imagine I would be doing this. Last year, while training for the Loch Lomond Relay challenge, I swam 100 or more lengths in one session every single week, for months. 

Now, I often get close to that in swim training sessions, but that’s fine, it’s varied and broken up so you don’t notice. But the relentless nature of ploughing up and down that pool, counting lengths is my idea of hell. I even bought a waterproof mp3 player to ease the boredom.

Anyway, that was where wonder woman slowly melted away.

As I dragged my weary self to bed that night, I turned off the dawn call, deciding I needed a lie-in. before facing another double training day.

I took my run kit to work, full of plans to chase the pupils out the door as soon as the bell rang and do a swift 8-miler, leaving enough time (3-hours) to mark work, taxi teenagers, cook & eat dinner before the evening swim session.

Well the best laid plans went to rats, I ended up in meetings and then ran out of time. So I had to do an hour’s swim followed by an hour’s run – thanks to Julia who joined me through the drizzly, dark streets, finishing at 9.15pm. This wet and weary mum then spent an hour trying to sort out the printer for eldest son, who should know better than to try to make last minute corrections to two Higher English essays that had to be handed in the following day!

My head finally hit the pillow at too-late o’clock!

By Friday, I was well and truly shattered, but determined to get another session in, leaving me with one full weekend day to rest. So tonight I’m enjoying a well-earned glass of red wine, still wearing lycra, (not-so-sexy compression tights under my PJ’s to ease off my aching muscles!) I’m no longer smug, but I’m satisfied.

I managed a 30-minute turbo, followed by a 10-mile hilly run,  boy were those legs glad to see my front door tonight.

So, I've learned something this week – Ironman training will take you to your limit, it’ll raise you up, then knock you down and watch to see if you’re willing to drag yourself back onto your feet to take another hit.

Well, here’s the thing Ironman – I may be tired but I’m a long, long way from being beaten.