No train, massive pain...

This blog entry is another stroll down memory lane. Just call me Old Man Withers.

I did my first Ironman in 1987. It was Ironman Canada, there was only about 650 of us. Triathlon life was different back then. I don't want to sound like an old codger, but back then, doing the Ironman was a big deal. Not that it isn't now. Make no mistake, it's still a huge accomplishment. But back then it was virtually uncharted territory. Similar to early expeditions up Mount Everest.

In those early years, as an age grouper, finishing without hospitalization was the goal. Literally. The only people who considered the Ironman a race, were a small group of pros and they were deemed as superhuman freaks of nature. We all saw the video of Julie Moss crawling across the Ironman finish line in Hawaii and figured that could be any one of us if we went to hard. We were scared pioneers.

Coaching was unheard of and training was based on intuition. I don't know anyone who had a written plan. Training consisted of getting out of bed and deciding on what you felt like doing that day. Most of us started as runners, so we were used to doing our long runs on Sundays. It then only made sense to do our long bike rides on Saturdays. But a long ride was maybe 50 - 70 miles and a long run was about 8 - 10 miles. No age grouper would have dreamt of doing a 100 mile bike ride on Saturday, followed by a 20 mile run on Sunday. That would have been insane.

Tapering back then, consisted of eating carbs and not training for the week leading up to the race. A massage was recommended. The idea was to build up your energy reserves. If you saw someone a day or two before the race out riding or running in preparation, you thought they were out of their freaken mind. You'd just look at them, shake your head and mumble to yourself "what an idiot!".

One way you knew you were partially ready for an Ironman was to complete a single Century (100 mile) ride. You'd build up all summer, consistently doing 50 - 70 mile rides and then one weekend, usually as a small group, you'd go for an epic 100 mile ride. It was a confidence builder. By the 90 mile mark, everyone was cycling on reserves in a semi-bonked state. This ride would be about 3 or 4 weeks before the Ironman in order to give your legs time to recover.

To build confidence for the run, you'd do a marathon earlier in the year, usually in the Spring. And for the swim, you'd do one 4000 meter swim a couple weeks before the race. We focused a lot on the mental game of just finishing. I don't ever remember considering the Ironman a race.

The single Century, the single Marathon, the single 4000 meter swim and doing a half Ironman somewhere in between, gave you all the training and psychological advantage you needed.

When I got back into triathlons, three things struck me the most. The first was the level of sophistication. Virtually everyone had a coach and a structured training program. The second was the cost of equipment, especially wheels. And the third was the large volume of preparation training done by mere mortals.

At the Wasaga Beach Sprint, I went up to a guy who was displaying a pair of Zipp racing wheels on the roof of his car. I walked by and out of interest asked him "how much for the wheels?". He said $1000. I thought to myself "who is going to pay that much for a pair of wheels? This guy is nuts. Poor guy. What a tough way to make a living. No wonder he can't afford a real display!".

I said to the guy "do you get many people paying you a $1000 for a set of wheels?". He then said "their not a $1000 per set, their $1000 per wheel!". I almost swallowed my tongue. I walked away thinking "this guy is out of his mind thinking someone will pay $1000 per wheel. I'd never spend that kind of money on wheels in a million years!!! This must be a part time job for this guy. I hope he finds a real job soon". Little did I know, less than a year later, I'd own a pair of $1800 racing wheels.

Nowadays, 99% of the people that do an Ironman are prepared. When I was training for 2008 Louisville Ironman, I had a coach and did 8 rides between 113 - 129 miles over a 9 week period. Not to mention long runs between 2 - 3 hours every Sunday. The more I spoke to other triathletes, especially those with a coach, I realized that my high volume training mileage was the new norm. That I wasn't doing anything special.

I can say that I did my last Ironman Canada, in 1991, on only 6 weeks of training. No Joke. At the last moment, I decided to join a group of friends who had prepared all summer. I wasn't even in that good of shape. It was 1991 and I spent most of my time trying to build the business I co-founded a year earlier. The business was all encompassing and I spent very little time training.

At that time, I thought doing an Ironman was 90% mental and 10% physical. I figured with my past experience and 6 weeks of training, I'd be able to get in good enough shape to finish. I was right, I did finish, but it hurt like hell. To this day, I've never forgotten the extreme pain and suffering I felt that day.

I remember vividly being on the run. I was only about 8 miles into it and couldn't bend my knees. At that point, I had one of those "Heart to Heart - Come to Jesus" conversations with myself. It was "what the f**k were you thinking??? this is crazy!!! I hurt so much!!! why did I do this to myself??? doing an Ironman is the stupidest thing to do in the world!!! I'm never doing this ever again!!! This is stupid, stupid, stupid!!! and your stupid, stupid, stupid!!! ".

At that moment, while I was thinking all those thoughts, I remember the race photographer yell at me to smile. I mustered up every ounce of energy I had to look somewhat normal and happy as he took that shot. Every time I look at that shot, it takes me back to the overwhelming pain I felt that day. If you look at it closely, you can see the straight leg run technique and the masked pain in my face.

That photograph was my primary motivator during my 2008 Ironman Louisville training. I didn't miss a workout because I knew what it felt like to do an Ironman when your not properly trained. I'd much rather experience discomfort during training than the pain and suffering I felt during that Ironman in 1991.

Now I think, if your properly trained, Ironman is 90% physical and 10% mental. I'll never, never, never, ever, do an Ironman without being fully prepared physically. I've done Ironmans prepared and unprepared. Prepared is much easier. Don't get me wrong, even properly trained, there is still major pain and suffering, but trust me, it could be much much worse.

Post Run

After writing the above story, which by the way, took close to 4 hours. I had a decision to make. Do I go for a run or have a beer? I asked Alice what I should do and she said go for a run. So I did. On my run, I thought of another lesson I learnt from doing Ironmans. I'm going to call it the "Training Payne's Ironman Law". I've gleaned this from doing Ironman's in 11, 12, 13 and 14 hours. Finishing in eleven hours was the easiest, Fourteen hours was the toughest. Eleven hours I spoke to no one, Fourteen hours I spoke to everyone.

Training Payne's Ironman Law - The faster your time, the easier it is. The slower your time, the harder and more social it becomes.

Also, thanks to Pedalman's comment, I realized that if blogs existed back then, my would not be called "Training Payne" rather it would be called "Payne Train". I don't recommend anyone take the Payne Train.

Mod Run - 42:12 / 5.17 miles / 8:10 pace

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