Poopy Brick

My training mojo vanished this morning.  And I didn't even get a memo with a warning!  Nope, instead, I found out my morning brick was going to be terrible mid-way through my bike ride.  I couldn't figure out why my heart-rate was so low despite a strong effort on a long hill climb.  Typically, I hover in the 150-160 bpm range on this particular climb, but today I stayed in the 130s, reaching 150 only after a final futile push to reach the hill summit in time to make it back to the parking lot within the hour. Fail.

My legs felt like they were dipped in tar -- hot, sticky, burning, and painful.

That sensation continued on my poor excuse of a run.  My training instructions were to run easy in zones 1-2 for the first two miles, ramp up to zone 3 for the third mile and ramp up again to zone 4 for the final two miles.  I couldn't get my heart-rate past 145 for the entire duration of the run!  In fact, I had to stop halfway through the run for a bathroom break, which almost never happens.

Has this happened to you?  That awkward feeling part way through a workout where you're just dying to find a restroom in the middle of a trail run?  NOT good.

Fortunately, I was running parallel to a golf course.  I looked like I was streaking with my clothes on as I raced across the green -- hands covering my head to protect an errant drive.  That's how bad I had to go!  Once I felt better, I returned to my run.  Once again, I couldn't muster any real power or speed.  Though I ran steady 9 and 8:30 miles on the two miles back to the car, I would have preferred revving my intensity and trying to hit consistent 7-minute miles again.

Today was not that day.  I'm debating hitting the pool for a rare Wednesday evening swim, or just resting today altogether.  Maybe this morning was an aberration?

There's only one way to find out.  And in these final three months of Ironman training, that way is to suck it up and get back out there as best I can.  If I'm not feelin' it, I'll back out.  But unless I'm in a work meeting or injured, "not feelin' it" ain't good enough.

76 days and counting.