How Bad Do You Really Want It?

Everything in life comes with a price tag. Sometimes it's not an obvious price, just the opportunity cost of doing one thing instead of something else. My tri bike had several costs associated with it. First, there was the obvious monetary cost. Even though I bargained for a reduced price on the 2009 model closeout, the store did not give it to me free.
Second, there was the cost of giving up a few things necessary to get permission from my significant other to spend the money: resigning from 4 wine clubs and selling my old bike. That was really hard because (a) I had been a member of several of the wine clubs for many years, and it felt like letting go of an old friend; and (b) the old bike and I had together for more than three years, and been through thousands of miles, 7 triathlons and 1 bike race, several flat tires and a couple of minor crashes, and so this also felt like losing a friend. Irrationally sentimental packrat? Yes, I admit it. But I still miss getting my shipment from Stag's Leap and opening the box to see what wine was in there. I also miss the feel of getting on my old bike -- I love the new bike, but even after 1200 miles, we are still getting to know one another.

In the my first post here, I said that I wanted to finish Vineman in 5:15 or under. Meeting that goal requires executing to a training program that will put me at the start line ready to race. I face two principal challenges to that: (1) finding the time in my day, week and month to do the workouts necessary; and (2) altering my diet so that I lose a lot of weight while still having the energy to workout and complete the tasks necessary for the rest of my life to proceed. These challenges are a little like a recovering alcoholic saying that the biggest challenge to maintaining sobriety is "not drinking." But once I actually start a workout, I seldom have trouble hitting the required intensity, mileage or speed.

This morning is an example. Coach Brian wants me to do a hammer fest this week. 2 runs with a total with 14 miles at 10k pace, 2 swims with repeats at all-out pace, and 3 bike/brick workouts with some high intensity intervals. That's more intensity in one week than I have done since July or August. It all kicked off today with 75 minute ride that included 15 all-out 20 second sprints. Doing these kind of workouts in the evening can be dodgy -- I may not get home to start it before 9:30 p.m., and even if I do, super-high intensity an hour before bed can cause me sleeping issues.
Everything was going fine until yesterday at 3 p.m., when I was told that I needed to cover 2 hearings at 8:30 a.m. today. That means leaving the house no later than 7:45, and working backward, requires being in the shower before 7:15. To do a 75 minute ride and still be in the shower by 7:15 means starting at 5:55, and correspondingly getting up at 5:40. I got up much earlier than that for years while I was a swimmer, but then either took a nap or fell asleep in class at times. Obviously, that won't work today.
If I get up when the alarm goes off, I am doing the workout, but given that I seldom make it to bed before 10:30 or 11, answering the bell at 5:40 is a 50-50 proposition. When you are tossing and turning in the night, the bargaining and rationalization begins: you don't need to get up at 5:40, you can sleep until 6 (no, you need 15 minutes to get out the door and another 5 minutes because you will hit stoplights and you can't risk leaving after 7:45); you don't need to do a full 75 minute ride, 45 or 60 minutes will be fine (no, Brian said 75 minutes, so you should do 75 minutes); you can do it on the trainer in the evening (no, you don't know what time you will leave tonight, could be 9 or 10 p.m., or even later); you don't really need to do this workout because Vineman is 4.5 months away (no, Brian must have had a reason to schedule it, and re-iterated that you should do all the workouts listed).
What it comes down to is the title of this post: how bad do you really want it? For me, finishing a sprint distance triathlon did not require a huge commitment. I swam a couple times a week for 45 minutes each, I biked a couple of times a week for 1-2 hours each, and I ran a couple times a week for 3-5 miles at a time. I finished 45th in my first race (of 91). I moved on the wanting to finish in the top 25 in my age group at a sprint distance. Still pretty attainable and I did that in my second race without too much more work. Last year, I wanted top 10's and maybe a podium or two in sprint distance races. I trained way more than I did in 2008, and more or less achieved those goals. But I still didn't need to really sacrifice. Diet didn't change much, and I skipped training sessions when work or other commitments created conflicts.
Some people have the natural talent to break 5 hours in a half-ironman without really training, but I am not one of them. There's nothing wrong with deciding the costs to do what you want to do are not worth it. Becoming President, a high-ranking executive at a major corporation, or even a partner at a large law firm require enormous personal sacrifice that most people don't want to undergo. I have already decided that at least for the next couple of years, the costs of doing an ironman right, or of podiuming at an half-ironman(even if I had the natural talent to get there) are too high for me. You just have to do is be honest with yourself about whether you are willing to pay the objective cost to achieve your goals. So I am lying awake at 10:30-11 and again at 4 a.m., asking myself whether I really want to do this.

Yes, I did. I wasn't happy when the alarm went off. And I had several anxiety based dreams, but I got out of bed and turned on the light, got dressed and went out to ride. I was hurting by the 6th interval, noticeably tiring by the 11th interval, and gassed after number 15. But I did them all, and rode my 75 minutes. Today I made the choice that paying the costs was worth it. Is this a turning point, or just another branch in the decision tree? We'll see.