The Irony of the Ironman Blogger

It is impossible to ignore the irony of the aspiring Ironman's almost pathological NEED TO BLOG!  Taking on an Ironman already entails a huge commitment of time and energy.  This time and energy needed to train for an Ironman often replaces time with friends and loved ones, family functions, happy hours and holidays, any hope of seeing a new release movie...  It is a constant balancing act, devoting so much of our life to Ironman, but not letting it be our whole life.  When we are not training we are planning our training, logging our training, recovering from our training...and now, blogging about our training!  Why do we do it Ironmen in training?!  Why MUST we do it?!

I'll tell you why.

As hard as we try not to let Ironman take over our whole life, there is no escaping the fact that for most of us, properly training for an Ironman has to, by necessity, be the major focus in our life.  At least, in the planning and distribution of our "leisure" time.  Unfortunately, despite the hundreds of people waiting in line with me the morning of Ironman registration, we are still a fairly rare breed.  (That's part of what motivates us, isn't it?)  Most people just don't get it.  But when something takes as much focus as Ironman training, one really needs an outlet for that passion.  We like to talk about it.  So you can imagine my shock and despair as I came to the slow, painful realization that, in fact, my coworkers are not thrilled to hear the minutiae of my training schedule.  When I come into work raving about hitting all my splits on my quarter mile repeats I am met with blank stares.  And a few yawns.  When I spend an entire dinner with my girlfriend talking about the merits of compression socks and the practicality of arm warmers, I end up eating dinner alone.  When I constantly drag  Chrissie Wellington into casual conversation on seemingly unrelated subjects (ie. You drink your coffee black? Chrissie Wellington drinks coffee!) I get confused looks followed by a lot of personal space.  They don't want to hear it!  But I am just this side of obsessed with all things Ironman!  What to do????

BLOG!

The Commitment

On November 19th, 2012, I got up at 4:30am to join several hundred other people already waiting in line in the predawn darkness of  Tempe Beach Park, about 13 miles from my house in Phoenix, AZ.  We were all decked out in our Ironman 2012 Volunteer t-shirts, our guarantee of priority registration for Ironman AZ 2013.  That's right, we all volunteered at the Ironman (many people coming in from other states) to secure the privilege of paying $700 to dedicate a year of our lives to strenuous training, then return to this place one year hence to suffer for up to 17 hours.  I waited in line for 3 hours to register, and there were still hundreds behind me when I left.  Once all the volunteers were registered, it was opened up to those waiting in line for onsite general registration.  Only then was registration opened online.  $700 entry fee.  A huge commitment of time and energy.  Untold sums of money spent on gear, training and travel.  Online registration sold out in 40 seconds.

So, clearly, I am not the only crazy person out there.

I had spent the night before clapping my hands raw and screaming myself hoarse until midnight, cheering on the triumphant finishers of Ironman AZ 2012.  I was in the crowd that went ballistic when, with 30 seconds to the no exceptions midnight cutoff, a woman turned the corner into the finishing chute.  We screamed, we clapped, we pounded the bleachers, we waved our arms in the air; it was as if we believed we could get her to the finish line just through our sheer will.  She crossed the finish line at 11:59:55.  If anyone has seriously considered doing an Ironman, I don't know how it's possible to watch one and not think, I HAVE TO DO THIS.  The energy at an Ironman is almost indescribable to someone who hadn't experienced it.  It is thousands of athletes from all walks of life, pushing themselves to their physical and mental limits, surrounded by awed spectators willing to do just about anything to help them succeed.  I watched the mass swim start in the morning, volunteered in the women's change tent between the swim and bike, then worked at a run aid station, then cheered at the finish line till the bitter end.  My decision to do Ironman was made months ago.  (Though it seems less like a decision than a realization of the inevitable course my life was taking.)  But my experience as spectator and volunteer confirmed it beyond any doubt.  There was no should I or shouldn't I?  There was no can I afford it?  (I can't, and never could.)  There was no can I commit the time and energy for this?  At 5 seconds to midnight on November 18, 2012 I knew there was no way I was not doing this race.