Tonight, for the first time in almost a decade, I'm nervous for a race.
Well, not a race actually, but an event - sort of. It's actually a week's worth of events, or workouts really...in my basement. Exciting, right?
Let me back up a bit. Although I never really had plans to use this blog as anything other than to vent, or perhaps capture a snapshot of my existence as a runner, then as a former runner, I felt a strong urge to return to my not-so-epic saga and put pen to paper once more. Reading my last post from 2013, I realized not much had changed between then and about a year ago, as far as running went. For a few years I kept at it, vacillating from 40 miles/week to 3 months on the couch. I'd string a few good seasons together only to get stressed by work or pick up a nagging injury and my forward progress would be derailed. Getting back into a training routine became tougher and tougher as my legs became less tolerant of the hard, concrete miles and my willpower waned without a clear long-term goal.
But I had my moments. I hopped on the track and got in shape, even running a few good 800 workouts and racing in the Frostbite series only to have an old Achilles injury flare up. Then, as a coach for a local youth cross country team I drew motivation from a promising group of guys and worked hard to be able to keep up with them at practice. But, alas, I never could keep it consistent. At the start of 2018, I really had motivation to get back into shape when we moved offices to the south end of Queeny Park right next to my good friends at Big River Running. I even got a few park runs in with the guys before a small tweak to my knee quickly evolved into a debilitating, sidelining injury that persists to this day. Despite three bouts of physical therapy, and some desperate attempts to run through the pain, my knee (or quad in all likelihood) is still a live grenade waiting to blow up somewhere between 5-25 minutes after I start trodding down the pavement. That sucked.
For three dark years, my inability to run took a toll on my mental health. No longer did I have a clear and effective outlet for my stress. Nor did I have an easy, no-thought way to keep in shape. Slowly, my depression grew worse, my anxiety caused me to withdraw, and my stomach issues flared up worse than ever. At my lowest point, my sole focus was getting to the weekend as fast as possible to stay in bed or on the couch, with no motivation to do anything at all. It was a living hell.
Therapy, and a supportive wife, were the only things that got me to the other side, but I'd by lying if I told you it wasn't still a work in progress. The self-confidence, pride, and inner strength that manifested from my training and college running days is hard to replicate in the real world. Especially as an entrepreneur. Rather than knowing the exact steps to take, the pathway to excellence that's so clear cut as a distance runner, life as an entrepreneur is like groping around in the dark with earplugs in. Bad analogy, but hey, it sucks. I never have any idea if the things I'm doing or the progress I'm making is getting me anywhere. And there's no-one there to direct, guide, advise, etc. Constantly making massive decisions with no experience or data to back it up wears you down. I really do miss being good at something.
All that said, this past year I finally found an outlet. With a pandemic keeping the world out of arms reach, my expecting wife and I took nesting to a whole new level and completely renovated our basement, mold and asbestos removal included! And back in the corner with the sump pump and abnormally high levels of house crickets and spiders, we set up a little workout area. And for a couple hundred bucks, I transformed my ancient hybrid bike and a cheap magnetic trainer into a sensor-laden "smart" bike. Then I found The Sufferfest.
The first workouts nearly killed me. I hadn't done anything physically active in over a year, and I definitely had no business on a bike. I quit more workouts than I finished, struggled to hone my power settings, and struggled with the same bouts of quitting and restarting training that used to plague my post-college running days. But each time I quit, something called my back. Maybe it was my uncle's encouragement, as he's been cycling for years and was initially the reason I thought about converting from feet to pedals. Maybe it was the 8 weeks I had of paternity leave combined with the world being shut down, giving me plenty of at-home time to fill. Or maybe it was the fact that with cycling, unlike running, I had not already set the bar too high. Heck, I had no idea what MAP, FTP, AC, or NM metrics are, but apparently every cyclist lives by them. Whatever it was, I kept coming back to the bike.
Slowly I started to string together some consistency. I set up a fan, a charger, extra water bottles and Body Armors in a cabinet, and a pile of dry-fit shirts. I bough bike shorts, a new seat, and even got clip pedals for Christmas. And as the workouts got tougher, I got stronger, both physically and mentally. I started doing yoga, and simple strength training, along with a mental toughness program. At the start of this year, I even created a nutrition plan, and stuck to it! I've gained muscle, lost weight, and slowly become an athlete again. Now, each and every day, I look forward to getting on the bike after I put my daughter to sleep. The only thing I struggle with still - how sore my ass is after the ride. I really gotta figure that out...maybe I need a road bike.
Anyway, there you have it. I'm a novice cyclist now. Well, a novice indoor training biker. I still haven't rode outside with clip pedals, and as I write this it's currently -2 degrees with snow and ice on every street. Don't think I'll get to test that out for awhile yet. But that's not my focus. My real aim at the moment is this asinine, ludicrous, suicidal week of training starting tomorrow called the Tour of Sufferlandria. Let me break it down for you:
7 days, 13 hours of workouts. Each and every one takes every ounce of mental fortitude and physical strength to complete. Oh and to top it all off, this will be the busiest week of work I've ever had. I'll be on my feet producing from 8am-4pm every day except Friday, something I haven't done in at least 9 months. Needless to say, I'm a bit nervous that I'll be able to make it. That's where you come in, all my loyal blog followers *cough cough*. You are my accountability! Well, you, and my uncle, and my wife, but it's out there. So here's my goal:
Complete every workout. Seems simple, right? Not. It's going to be hell. That's why I have caveats. If I need to pause, I'll pause. If I need to go 80% effort at the end, I will. But, under no circumstances, will I quit. I've worked really hard to get back to being resilient, and worked even harder to be consistent and goal-oriented. I will complete this week. After that, who knows. Maybe I will become a cyclist. Maybe I'll get that road bike and train outside this summer. It's so refreshing to be excited and energized in pursuit of a goal again. So for now, I'll savor this feeling, and try to remember what it's like to have legs that don't feel like they're about to burst into flames. Here goes nothing. Wish me luck.
