It’s 3am on a Wed morning. I am drinking coffee, making myself swallow wheat bread with PNB and banana, and working on my bowels. Yes, you heard me right, my bowels. A huge part of my routine as I am training for an IronMan, and trust me, nothing happens, until THAT happens.

Today? A 2hour 15 minute bike ride followed by a 1:25 run. Oh, then home, shower, a microwaved burrito, an hours drive to the office, a 9 hour work day, then an hours drive back home.

This allows me precisely 1.5 hours on the couch each night to drink a glass of wine, talk with my husband and fall asleep, to wake up, and do this again tomorrow.

This ‘aint fun.

I had run completed one IronMan before, and I do know the training was killer.

But at that point in my life, I was working a virtual job. I worked from home, controlled my own schedule and it worked a whole lot better.

This 3am shit, exhausting.

And the suckerpunch? My weekends. Normally rest and relax days, are my LONG training days. This Saturday for example I have a 5 hour bike ride, a 45 minute swim and a 90 minute run. Yes that is just Saturday. Sunday is equally stimulating. This is my life.

Only good news, I have nothing else in my life. Well, of course I do, my husband and children, but my kids are grown, living on their own, and my husband, is a pretty self sufficient guy. He is a great cheerleader btw, and supports me 100%.

But as for a social life? Forget it. I have missed family gatherings, put off outings, concerts and any friendly connection because I am too tired (and need to get to bed too early for most everyone). My only day off from working out is Monday (a lovely start of the week work day) so maybe 1-2 times a month on Sunday nights I can squeeze in an early evening outing, but that is rare. Usually that time is my reserved couch binge TV time with my husband (priorities).

So, back to exhausting. I am TIRED. I am 46. Things hurt. When I get any kind of injury, a sore arm from a long swim, there is no rest or therapy (at least not in my world, who has time for that)? It’s working through it and hoping it heals, while I keep training it and working it out (like magically that happens).

I’ve had a number of injuries on this training. A bashed ankle (massive tissue damage)  hip tendinitis (I did squeeze in a CT scan which confirmed this), and a bad bike fall which tore a muscle/small bone chip in my ribs that incapacitated me for weeks.

But there is no rest, not in IronMan mindset. There are modifications. There is pool running, or elliptical biking to lessen the impact or whatever, but I can’t rest.

I. Can’t. Rest.

I almost quit this madness. It’s been quite the psychological experiment for me. I literally am doing my own psycho analysis on myself every time I train. I analyze quitting. Let’s be honest. I DREAM of quitting! Sleeping! Food! Friends! My life back!

But then go immediately to how it would feel after the race date passed, how much I would have kicked myself and how me, knowing me, I’d have to sign up and pay for another one and train for another one and suffer through another one.

I don’t give up. To a fault.

So I wake up at 3. I eat dry toast. I work on my bowels. And like I said, I work on my mind.

I try had to remind myself at least I have legs to run with.

At least I have a bed to wake up from.

At least I have a husband that cheers me on, and food to fuel my belly with.

At least I can afford equipment to ride and at least I have a job to go into after.

At least I have a bath to soak my weary bones in

And at least I have medical care that is there god forbid, when I do finally break and need it.

And let’s not forget. This was my choice. No one is holding a gun to my head to do this. This is my own personal will and drive that is creating this chaos, and exhaustion in my life.

So why continue? Because I can. Because nothing good comes without hard work. Nothing you accomplish in this life, of significance, comes from sitting in your comfort zone (as that Bad Ass book by Jen Sincero reminds us). And I’ll cross that finish line, and I’ll take photos I’ll look back on forever and remember I DID THIS. I PUSHED THROUGH THIS.

Then, I will sleep. And never, ever, do this again.