Ironman saved my life. Ironman also stole my life.
Six years ago, I may have been more physically fit than in any of my previous 60 years. Coming off of 18 months of extraordinary success at Ironman racing, I was preparing to race at the IM World Championships on Hawaii’s Big Island when I ran into the back end of a pickup truck. Had I not been such a stellar physical specimen, I might very well have become a quadriplegic, or possibly not survived the multiple traumas. And it was the dream of getting back to training, and, eventually, to race and win again, that drove me to not give in to any of my permanent injuries.
Since that crash, I’ve gone through another 12 Ironman training cycles, on top of the 19 that went before. Getting ready to race through 2.4 miles of swimming, 112 miles of cycling, and 26.2 miles of running is a draining and empowering process. Every time, I say, “this time, it will be different.” I keep thinking: this time, I will be able to control myself.
But the pull of enhanced physical power is always too strong, I know that if I do all of each and every workout, I will end up able to bust through cinder block walls. I’ll be able to dance and sing like James Brown performing “I Feel Good”. The droopy eyelids, the sodden feeling in my thighs, the flaccid arms and shoulders – all of that is forgotten in the last week before a race, when I finally stop working and start rebuilding myself.
Once a year, maybe. 8-10 weeks tops is all I should devote to this dichotomy. I have tried very hard to create a pathway to abstinence: no more 2 or 3 IMs a year. Have fun with shorter efforts, with rides in the mountains with groups, just swimming for fun with Cheryl. Maybe even try a year with no IM at all? But I can’t see that as possible yet, I’m too afraid of what I might lose if I go without. Physical strength. Mental fortitude. An inner reason for being. Adulation of people I’ve never even met. I remain addicted. Even with only one race scheduled I’m feeling overwhelmed by forces I’ve created, but can’t control.
I can identify. will see if 2017 and 2018 bring different patterns for me. or not.
I met you on here back in 2011 after my diagnosis with CCS. I’m active on an SCI forum and hope you don’t mind that when i find active walking/running quads, I refer them to your blog.
Be well! You’re in my thoughts very often.