Oh shit. Ironman training ain't easy.

A few examples of common causes for fogged swimming goggles:

-They have been used for more than an hour, 2 or more times a week, for the last 6 months.

-The pool is 800 degrees and your face is catching up to that temperature.

-They love you and don't want you to see all of the nasty things potentially floating in the water you're swimming in...

Uncommon causes:

-Crying.

-Anxiety attacks.

-The feeling that there is no way in fucking hell that your arms could possibly drag your dumb body through the water for another 2000 yards.

Full disclosure: This is not my usual super positive-happy-smiley style post, but it's definitely real. I've been vulnerable in my writing in the past, but this feels like I'm standing naked in front of a crowd of disgruntled faces - all wearing IRONMAN FINISHER hats and IRONMAN WISCONSIN medals around their necks while wagging their fingers disapprovingly...so just bear with me. 

My journey to the start line of my first full Ironman has been uhhh... interesting/unexpected/overwhelming/fucking rad/super fun/totally shitty/awesome/amazing/enlightening/mind boggling/weird/great/not so great.

I have experienced incredible joy as I've pushed my body to new limits and reached new goals...I've also experienced intense anxiety and a feeling like there has to be only 5 hours in a day and this whole 24 hour thing is a joke and everyone's just messing with my head, because there's no way in hell there's that many hours in a day and I don't even have time to vacuum my house or get groceries.

I've heard so many people talk about how the journey to your first Ironman is supposed to be the best part about the whole thing. How it's just oh so much fun and how the training is just such a blast. How all the pain and sacrifice are worth it in the end and blah blah blah. (Still on my way to find that out.) I was ill-prepared for the curve ball that hit me in the side of the head during the 3rd week of my first big build...and then the 3rd week of my second big build...and now the 3rd week of my last big build. (I also am aware that far busier people with way more stress in their lives have trained for Ironman's and been just fine- this is not their journey. This is just mine.)

Over the last 4 years I've trained for and raced in 11 half Ironman's and countless other sprints and olympics. I've experienced lows while training, sure (for example: the majority of my 2017 season), but Ironman training has taken things to a whole new level. It has, of course, been one of the hardest things I've ever done, physically-- but it's also been one of the absolute hardest things I've ever done, mentally.

I don't think I really wrapped my head around the true magnitude of training for a full Ironman before I began this process. I knew it would be hard, the hours would be long, and sacrifices would be made, but I had no idea the mental toll it would take. The fact that all other hobbies or passions would take a complete back seat didn't really register and the fact that I have the patient of a hungry toddler...means putting things off that I want to pursue hasn't been easy for me. The exhaustion from Ironman training has meant that if I'm not training - I'm working, eating, or sleeping - with not much else mixed in. (The only reason I am able to sit down and write this is because my amazing coach gave me an extra rest day this week.)

This experience has honestly changed my relationship with triathlon. I know that in the long run, my love for training, racing, and the amazing people I've met through triathlon is what will get me through this, but at the moment it's just really freakin' tough and I needed to put it to the universe/ internet. (Now if you even consider writing some comment about how I should quit because I obviously don't love it anymore…SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP. THAT'S NOT WHAT THIS IS ABOUT, butt face.)

I don't know if I've ever felt more alone than I did when I cut my 5000 yard swim short by 1500 on Tuesday and hurriedly shuffled my way to the women's locker room, as my face reddened and tears began welling up in my eyes, trying to avoid the life guards who know me by name now. Clenching my towel tightly, skidding my way over wet floors, trying to get to a private stall in time to have a full blown meltdown in the shower. I couldn't catch my breath, my head was spinning, my guilt for giving up was clawing at the back of my mind, my (irrational) fear that not finishing my workout would lead to an unfinished Ironman. Images of people on Instagram smiling about how awesome training for their first is going, and others who qualified for Kona at their first one, and how it's so much fun and they never get sad or struggle or blah blah blah--all flashing through my brain. It was like an elephant sat on my chest and told me I wasn't good enough for the finish line.

i documented this moment in case i was ever brave enough to post it. this is for the people who get it.

Oof…if you've ever dealt with anxiety, you know this snowball affect. One bad thought pops in, followed by its cousin, who is dragging along its best friend, who brought their gym teacher, who brought their niece, who punches you in the stomach. 

This isn't my usual cheerful post and I know that, but it is authentic, vulnerable, and transparent. I know I can't be the only person who has felt this way and felt guilty for not enjoying training the way we feel like we should. 

Now, I have a pretty good feeling that I'm going to come out on the other side, crossing that finish line, with a huge smile on my face, screaming about how it was all worth it (while, most likely, grabbing my wallet to sign up for the next one), but that loneliness and embarrassment I felt as I gave up on my swim- like I was letting someone other than myself down- isn't right. I can't be alone in this and I hope you (person who is nodding their head like holy shit. yes. i've been here and felt this and it was hard af ) know that you're not the only person who has felt this way.

I am aware that I made the conscious decision to sign up for an Ironman. I spent a shit load of my own money that I work really hard for, in order to do this race. This post isn't about getting sympathy. This is about the struggles that come with pursuing a dream. This post is about being honest during my journey and hopefully reaching others who have been here and felt as alone as I did - even though I was texting my coach and friend who have both done Ironman's and are very supportive and kind and uplifting. In that moment it was all white noise. I've caught myself trying to make myself feel better by posting smiling pictures like everything is great, but that's so dumb and exactly why social media has fucked with everyone's self esteem in the first place. People only post about the good parts. They leave out the real parts. Life isn't always perfect. Training for triathlon isn't always perfect. Sometimes it is! But probably not 100% of the time. Here is my reality. For all of you. MY GOD THIS IS TERRIFYING. 

I know it will all be worth it. I know that, deep down. Sometimes it's just hard to see the finish line from so far away. 

Ironman Wisconsin, I'm coming for you and this set back isn't going to stop me, got dammit. ONY 3 MORE WEEKS.

Love y'all.