Ironman is next weekend! NEXT WEEKEND!!
To my surprise I am feeling excited! A little bit nervous, but mostly really excited! A friend compared it to waiting for childbirth...exciting even though you know it is going to hurt. I don't have that same basis for comparison but I do at least know that once finished, Ironman won't need bathing, breastfeeding, or having it's nappy changed. Well, hopefully not. If it does, I totally didn't know what I was signing up for.
My training is starting to taper which is a relief, I was getting pretty tired there for a while. I am reviving quite quickly though, so I think I will be fair fizzing by next weekend. I am being a total princess when it comes to any injury or illness risk - I am spending most of my disposable income on different vitamin variants, and am rude to the point of obnoxious to anyone who comes near me with a hint of a disease (except manflu, we all know that isn't a real sickness).
I got my bike safety check done today, now it and my helmet are adorned with fluoro Ironman stickers, so they are committed to the event even if I am not. But I am. Don't worry, I'll be there.
I am swimming across the lake this weekend. It will be my pentultimate event in my IM build up. Hopefully the taniwha will be gentle.
Until next time, general fatigue is no excuse for forgetting your underwear...and not caring.
love
Ironmaiden
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Thursday, February 16, 2012
My left foot. And my right foot for that matter.
I think I might be a bit of a mutant. And not in a useful X-Men sort of way. I just think my body is built a bit wrong.
A good example (but not by any means the only example) are my poor feet. Admittedly the last 10 or 11 months have been a little tougher than they are used to, but is this any reason for them to have grown by half a shoe size? Shoes that fit me this time last year are now too short. Seriously, who's feet grow in their thirties? Will they carry on growing forever? Will I be wearing small canoes for slippers by the time I am retirement age?
What's more, after the Kinloch triathlon, my feet looked like this:
Oddly enough, it didn't hurt too much and hopefully will callus up nicely ahead of Ironman. But it really did leave me with a lingering longing to have nice normal straight toes, no odd angles, no hammerheads...but never mind, I'll work with what I've got, even if they are growing and ugly.
I've done a few training miles this last week, rode the full bike course on Saturday (ouch), swam the swim course on Sunday morning, then went for a run ...for the rest of the day. But not long to go now, 16 sleeps (assuming I sleep!).
Until next week, the answer to that ancient dilemma "Do I or don't I pop this blister?" is don't - the progress of unpopped blisters is gross, squidgy and pleasingly fascinating .
love
Ironmaiden
A good example (but not by any means the only example) are my poor feet. Admittedly the last 10 or 11 months have been a little tougher than they are used to, but is this any reason for them to have grown by half a shoe size? Shoes that fit me this time last year are now too short. Seriously, who's feet grow in their thirties? Will they carry on growing forever? Will I be wearing small canoes for slippers by the time I am retirement age?
What's more, after the Kinloch triathlon, my feet looked like this:
 |
| It ain't pretty... |
Oddly enough, it didn't hurt too much and hopefully will callus up nicely ahead of Ironman. But it really did leave me with a lingering longing to have nice normal straight toes, no odd angles, no hammerheads...but never mind, I'll work with what I've got, even if they are growing and ugly.
I've done a few training miles this last week, rode the full bike course on Saturday (ouch), swam the swim course on Sunday morning, then went for a run ...for the rest of the day. But not long to go now, 16 sleeps (assuming I sleep!).
Until next week, the answer to that ancient dilemma "Do I or don't I pop this blister?" is don't - the progress of unpopped blisters is gross, squidgy and pleasingly fascinating .
love
Ironmaiden
Thursday, February 9, 2012
The answer is 42, but what is the question?
I like to provide solutions, so I can tell you - 42 is my Ironman race number! It's the professionals, two other people, and then me, and then 1497 others! We won't necessarily finish in the same order.
Speaking of professionals, I did my first race against real professionals on Sunday. The Erin Baker - a standard distance triathlon at Kinloch. I did not win. Jo Lawn won. I was a close 59th....
After the Half Iron went so smoothly I guess it was only a matter of time before I had a few race day calamities. My first was arriving at transition (somewhat sleep deprived) to find I had cross threaded the lid of my drink bottle and flooded all my gear with sticky electrolyte fluid. It made the fabric of my running shoes set like cement. It also made me choose to forgo arm warmers and cycling gloves for similar reasons. I regrouped though, found some Vitasport and lake juice to replace the lost fluid, and pressed a kind and energetic 12 year old into delivering the recharged bottle back to my bike.
My swim was OK, longer than it was supposed to be because one of the buoys had dragged it's anchor. Believe it or not, this is not the first time this has happened to me. But I made it through the two lap course, and only got lapped by Cameron Brown and a few of his mates. They proceeded to lap me again on the bike leg. They didn't need to lap me on the run, they'd already finished before I started!
My lovely bike was great on the bike leg, I got up to 60km/hr+ on some of the downhills - it made my cheeks flap like a happy puppy with it's head out the car window.
The run was four laps past my family who were parked on their lawn. They indulged me with a gentle spray of the hose as I cantered (ok, wheezy shuffled) my way by. Although my sister got a little carried away with the adjustable spray head and it was a bit of a waterblast initially! My brother in law also took some video of my running form - it would appear I run like a broken puppet, I just don't seem to have the right amount of joints in my legs (or my arms). I have five or six knees, no ankles and one hip. And 3 elbows. My poor coach, he must despair.
I also somehow forgot to take my bike pants off, so had to do a quick down-trou and illegal discard to my lucky sister halfway through my first lap. Don't worry though, for once there wasn't gratuitous nudity, I checked that I had my running shorts on underneath first.
Until next week, I strongly recommend that if you discover a cockroach on your collar bone, don't flinch and knock it down the front of your togs into your cleavage.
Love
Ironmaiden
Speaking of professionals, I did my first race against real professionals on Sunday. The Erin Baker - a standard distance triathlon at Kinloch. I did not win. Jo Lawn won. I was a close 59th....
After the Half Iron went so smoothly I guess it was only a matter of time before I had a few race day calamities. My first was arriving at transition (somewhat sleep deprived) to find I had cross threaded the lid of my drink bottle and flooded all my gear with sticky electrolyte fluid. It made the fabric of my running shoes set like cement. It also made me choose to forgo arm warmers and cycling gloves for similar reasons. I regrouped though, found some Vitasport and lake juice to replace the lost fluid, and pressed a kind and energetic 12 year old into delivering the recharged bottle back to my bike.
.JPG) |
| Pre-race nerves - all sticky with electrolyte and sleepiness. |
My swim was OK, longer than it was supposed to be because one of the buoys had dragged it's anchor. Believe it or not, this is not the first time this has happened to me. But I made it through the two lap course, and only got lapped by Cameron Brown and a few of his mates. They proceeded to lap me again on the bike leg. They didn't need to lap me on the run, they'd already finished before I started!
 |
| Getting into transition mode...and wondering why the swim felt 200m longer than it should have! |
My lovely bike was great on the bike leg, I got up to 60km/hr+ on some of the downhills - it made my cheeks flap like a happy puppy with it's head out the car window.
 |
| Cornering like a pro - inside pedal up, still smiling... |
The run was four laps past my family who were parked on their lawn. They indulged me with a gentle spray of the hose as I cantered (ok, wheezy shuffled) my way by. Although my sister got a little carried away with the adjustable spray head and it was a bit of a waterblast initially! My brother in law also took some video of my running form - it would appear I run like a broken puppet, I just don't seem to have the right amount of joints in my legs (or my arms). I have five or six knees, no ankles and one hip. And 3 elbows. My poor coach, he must despair.
 |
| Doing the broken puppet shuffle. |
I also somehow forgot to take my bike pants off, so had to do a quick down-trou and illegal discard to my lucky sister halfway through my first lap. Don't worry though, for once there wasn't gratuitous nudity, I checked that I had my running shorts on underneath first.
Until next week, I strongly recommend that if you discover a cockroach on your collar bone, don't flinch and knock it down the front of your togs into your cleavage.
Love
Ironmaiden
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