Last summer, the last triathlon of the year, we were super late on race morning. We had a drive ahead of us and we forgot to get gas the night before. I had a work event that kept us out late the night before and we were in a hotel. It was morning before we realized we had forgotten we would need to grab breakfast. Oh, and have I mentioned before that I am not a morning person?
It was the most unprepared I have ever been for any race. We barely made it in time and when we did finally arrive, we had registration issues to resolve (of course!), and a timing guy to track down, not to mention getting ready for the actual race. We scrambled to find space to throw our bikes and could hear the race director giving the last minute instructions as we threw all of our gear on the ground and were shimmying into our wetsuits and we ran to the start line and pulling on our swim caps and goggles at the very very last second. The race went surprisingly ok… but those were, by far, the worst transitions I have EVER had. And hopefully the worst I will ever have again.
What is the point of this story, you ask? Well, the other night I had a dream. An Ironman dream. About race morning, to be more specific. And in my dream, I was horribly HORRIBLY unprepared. I didn’t know where to rack my bike. I didn’t know what to check in. I couldn’t find my race number. I didn’t know where the course went. I was TOTALLY unprepared.
Dream analyze that…!
You don’t need to be a psychologist.
I woke up with the most AWFUL sinking feeling in my gut. It took me all morning to shake it. Truly.
Suffice it to say, I think that right now, in Week 12 (already!), I’m feeling just a little behind the 8 ball. I know people who are consistently riding 5 hours at a time and I’m just getting up to 3:30. People are talking about doing century rides and running marathons and I’m just now up to a half marathon distance. I still need to dial in my gear – what I’m going to bike in and run in. How I’m going to stay warm in water that will very likely be in the low 60s.
And I’m tired. Oh so tired. Always so very tireZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.
Ugh. Its hard not to feel behind. Its hard not to doubt.
I guess the good news here is that I have time. Twelve more weeks to get up to speed on the course, the rules, how the day might go, what could go wrong (and what could go right!), to test the gear, do trial runs, to put in the work and have faith that my efforts will get me there.
And race morning chaos? Well. I guess I have 12 weeks to plan for that too!