Photo Credit: teammate Nicole Nicolay
I wrote another blog post for this week a couple days ago, but my emotional reaction at this morning’s workout inspired me to post this instead.
The team met at Aquatic Park in San Francisco for the first open water swim of the season. I was dreading it because, you know, it’s January. But this is part of the process, part of triathlon, so there’s no getting out of it.
Before getting into the water, Alicia, a run coach, asked to dedicate our day to a friend of hers. This friend had battled cancer, gone into remission, and then relapsed 2 years ago. Alicia told us that throughout these last 2 years, her friend’s catch-phrase was “It’s all good.” Any day she had to spend with her 4 children was a good day. Any day of life she had she would live to the fullest and be happy for it.
This week, Alicia learned that her friend had been moved to hospice care, and her children, ages 12-20, would lose their mother any day now.
As we struggled into our wetsuits and groaned about the cold, I knew there was a woman very nearby who would gladly take my place, who would happily cry out at the shock of the water against her feet, who would smile even as her face went numb from the cold.
I thought back to Friday, when I was telling my hairdresser about the Ironman, and I got that look from him that I’ve gotten so many times before, the furrowed brow, the head shake, and the question: “Why? Why would you want to do that?”
The answer: because I can. When others can’t, I can. So as long as I can, every day that I can, I must.
I can put on a wetsuit at 8 in the morning and swim in the 49-degree bay until my hands, feet, and even tongue freeze. I can shudder and dry myself and drink hot tea and prepare for a run. I can run on feet that are so cold it feels like every foot strike could break something for the first 30 minutes, and I can keep going for another 30 minutes after feeling returns to all extremities. I can do jump squats and squat-holds and planks and bicycles.
I can train for an Ironman.
I don’t have a personal connection to blood cancer, but there are a million survivors in the world right now who need me to do what I can do. Sometimes I lose sight of this, and I think my training is just about me. In some ways it is – I’m trying to be my best self. But looking deeper, I know that my best self is not just someone with the fitness to complete an Ironman. My best self links my own fitness to the health and well-being of others.
So this is why I suck it up, do the uncomfortable thing, and ask people for money to support the cause. As long as I can, I must.
I know that many people who donate to me do so because they care about me personally and support me in my goals. I want you all to know how grateful I am to have that care and support. You should also know how much even the smallest donation supports the greater cause.
I cry at workouts regularly because teammates and survivors themselves tell stories of courage and hardship and hope. Stories about the support LLS gives to patients and about the lives saved by drugs discovered by LLS researchers. Stories about loved ones lost.
If my swimming, biking and running inspires you to donate to this cause, then how can I not swim, bike and run as far as I possibly can go? How can I not strive for the ultimate 140.6-mile goal?
Why? Because I can.
Please donate: http://pages.teamintraining.org/sf/irnmnltt13/marshalllf023
The team met at Aquatic Park in San Francisco for the first open water swim of the season. I was dreading it because, you know, it’s January. But this is part of the process, part of triathlon, so there’s no getting out of it.
Before getting into the water, Alicia, a run coach, asked to dedicate our day to a friend of hers. This friend had battled cancer, gone into remission, and then relapsed 2 years ago. Alicia told us that throughout these last 2 years, her friend’s catch-phrase was “It’s all good.” Any day she had to spend with her 4 children was a good day. Any day of life she had she would live to the fullest and be happy for it.
This week, Alicia learned that her friend had been moved to hospice care, and her children, ages 12-20, would lose their mother any day now.
As we struggled into our wetsuits and groaned about the cold, I knew there was a woman very nearby who would gladly take my place, who would happily cry out at the shock of the water against her feet, who would smile even as her face went numb from the cold.
I thought back to Friday, when I was telling my hairdresser about the Ironman, and I got that look from him that I’ve gotten so many times before, the furrowed brow, the head shake, and the question: “Why? Why would you want to do that?”
The answer: because I can. When others can’t, I can. So as long as I can, every day that I can, I must.
I can put on a wetsuit at 8 in the morning and swim in the 49-degree bay until my hands, feet, and even tongue freeze. I can shudder and dry myself and drink hot tea and prepare for a run. I can run on feet that are so cold it feels like every foot strike could break something for the first 30 minutes, and I can keep going for another 30 minutes after feeling returns to all extremities. I can do jump squats and squat-holds and planks and bicycles.
I can train for an Ironman.
I don’t have a personal connection to blood cancer, but there are a million survivors in the world right now who need me to do what I can do. Sometimes I lose sight of this, and I think my training is just about me. In some ways it is – I’m trying to be my best self. But looking deeper, I know that my best self is not just someone with the fitness to complete an Ironman. My best self links my own fitness to the health and well-being of others.
So this is why I suck it up, do the uncomfortable thing, and ask people for money to support the cause. As long as I can, I must.
I know that many people who donate to me do so because they care about me personally and support me in my goals. I want you all to know how grateful I am to have that care and support. You should also know how much even the smallest donation supports the greater cause.
I cry at workouts regularly because teammates and survivors themselves tell stories of courage and hardship and hope. Stories about the support LLS gives to patients and about the lives saved by drugs discovered by LLS researchers. Stories about loved ones lost.
If my swimming, biking and running inspires you to donate to this cause, then how can I not swim, bike and run as far as I possibly can go? How can I not strive for the ultimate 140.6-mile goal?
Why? Because I can.
Please donate: http://pages.teamintraining.org/sf/irnmnltt13/marshalllf023
Week 10 Mileage
Monday, January 14 Downhill Skiing - 4 hours Tuesday, January 15 Rest (grocery, laundry) Day Wednesday, January 16 Swim - 55 minutes, 2330 yards Run - 45 minutes, 5 miles Thursday, January 17 Spin - 60 minutes Friday, January 18 Rest Day Saturday, January 19 - Coached Bike - 2 hours 35 minutes, 36 miles First Bike Marker Set at the 3 Bears: Marker was 19 miles, with some significant climbing and headwind. I did the loop in 1 hour 16 minutes, averaging 15 mph. Sunday, January 20 - Coached Swim - 30 minutes, 1300 yards Run - 55 minutes, 5.75 miles Core - 20 minutes | Totals: Swim - 1 hour 25 minutes, 3630 yards Bike - 3 hours 35 minutes, 36 miles Run - 1 hour, 30 minutes, 10.75 miles Core - 20 minutes (poor!) Total - 6 hours 50 minutes |
Week 9 Mileage
Tuesday, January 8 Swim - 55 minutes, 2300 yards Wednesday, January 9 Rest Day Thursday, January 10 Swim - 60 minutes, 2665 yards Run - 40 minutes, 4.5 miles Friday, January 11 Rest Day (driving to Tahoe) Saturday, January 12 Downhill Skiing (Elevation Training) - 5 hours Sunday, January 13 Downhill Skiing (Muscle Development) - 5 hours | Totals: Swim - 1 hour 55 minutes, 4965 yards Bike - None! Run - 40 minutes, 4.5 miles Core - None! Skiing - 10 hours (excellent work) |