Time to Commit

About a year ago my good friend Chuck the Cop talked me into joining his Ironcops For Cancer team. This was a group of motivated individuals who've decided to help raise cash for the Canadian Cancer Society by fundraising, and to draw attention to this, they compete in an Ironman triathlon.

4km swim...180km bike...42.2km run

I talk to quite a few people every day on the radio, and my family has been deeply touched by cancer, and I like to train with motivated people. So I had to say "yes."

Yes to long gruelling bike rides. Yes to swimming until my eye sockets puff out like an iguana. Yes to running long, slow, solitary runs. Yes to stinky, sweaty, filthy running/biking/swimming gear in piles near the washing machine. Yes to eating even more than I already do. Yes to constantly feeling tired. Yes to every joint in my old beat up body screaming at me to stop.

Perhaps if I'd paid more attention to what Chuck the Cop was saying to me, was that I was saying "yes" to actually RACING in the Ironman triathlon too!

4km swim...180km bike...42.2km run

After that finally sunk in, I started to slowly freak myself out. I've raced three 1/2 Ironmans in my short career, and none of them went well. I'm getting older, slower and no smarter, so how the hell was I supposed to turn it all around and finish one of the most challenging outdoor pursuits going?

Oh, and I've also gone on record as saying I thought Ironman "was a ridiculous distance." Oh, and that "friends don't let friends race marathons." I've never run longer than 30km at one time, and that was just last year, and it was long, and it was tough, and I swore I'd never go that distance again.

I used to ride at a respectable speed. Last year that all got away from me, and I found myself getting dropped by the other riders earlier and more often than ever.

Let's not even talk about the pool. I'm not a good swimmer. I'm not a mediocre swimmer. At best, I'm a bad swimmer.

4km swim...180km bike...42.2km run

By the end of last summer, I'd raced another 1/2 Ironman. My swim was so-so. My bike ride was dead-on what I was aiming for. My run blew big time. It was even slower than the last time I tried to do a half.

Another couple of races brought less than great results.

Then I got injured running.

Finally, I found every reason to not swim; not ride...just plain not do anything.

I went to a talk with Tony O'Keefe. Tony is a mutant. He races ultra-Ironmans. These take place over two days, and in them the athlete has to do basically double the Iron distance...which is ridiculous. And Tony is one of the best in the sport!

But I listened to what he said that night, and I listened very well. He told us all that we do this running and triathloning, because we want to be good at it. We want to beat our last time. We want to beat that person who finished in front of us before. We want to win in whatever way we can.

I thought about how I'd talked about the Ironman: Stupid distance. I'm not trained. There's no way I could pull it off. Don't have the time to commit to that. I've been injured. My bad friends made me enter. I realised what a load of crap that was. I wanted to do an Ironman race as badly as anyone, and I wanted to do it well.

I just didn't want to SEEM like that's what I wanted. I dreaded the thought of letting people down, so I was acting like it was something that was being foisted upon me. That way if things didn't go well, it wasn't my fault. And if I did really well, then I must be really special. What a crap attitude.

So, I went to the pool. The hated pool. The horrible, breath-stealing, humiliating pool. And I started swimming. 50 laps the first time. 50 laps that seemed like 500. Nice old ladies doing the breast stroke were passing me. I had to stop at the end of each lap and hold on to the pool deck to catch my breath. But I went.

And I stuck my bike on the trainer and rode. 1/2 Hour the first time. Didn't think I could get through another second, but I did, and I told myself that I 'd do the same thing at least twice more every week.

And I ran. I hurt, but I ran. It wasn't far, and it wasn't fast, but I ran. Funny thing is the injury went away, and I remembered why I do this silly sport: I love to run!

By the end of January, I was getting in the pool even on the days I didn't want to. I was riding the bike at a ridiculous time every morning (I work at 5am...you do the math), and I was saying "yes" to everyone who wanted to go for a little jog.

By the end of February, I was starting to see results in the pool. I was feeling better on the bike and my running was getting pretty smooth.

Now here I am about four months away from the race, and I feel like I'm on track. It's not just that I can train. I want to train. I'm having fun in the pool. The spins are giving me lots of time to catch up on my iPod and the runs wash away the stresses of the day.

4km swim...180km ride...42.2km run

It's not gonna be easy.

But it's what I want to do...and it's gonna be fun!