Hyper-Mentally Speaking

That is the way I feel on the treadmill-Hyper mental. If you have ever run on a treadmill you know what I am talking about…or maybe you don’t. On a treadmill you have all of the information about your current run that you need sitting in front of you on display. How fast I am going, how far have I run, how many calories have I burned, how much time left. For someone with an undiagnosed case of ADD, this can be a terrible problem if you don’t know how to handle it. Normally it takes about 10 to 15 minutes for me to squeeze out a handful of conscious thoughts. When I am on the treadmill it takes about a second. I will sit there and calculate how far I am going to have completed at the next interval, scream at myself to quit thinking about it, tell myself how tired I am, tell myself how tired I am not, ponder tripping and falling off the treadmill, and convincing myself to stop staring at the display. This all happens in several seconds and then repeats over and over until I talk myself into giving up or slowing down to a walk, and if I am lucky it will go until my time is up. This excruciating experience is only alleviated by focusing on something completely off the treadmill such as a good song or the TV. Actually, a song that is really good might be the only thing that can distract me. Another good distraction is the TV. On Sunday I had a 10 mile run on the plan so I slipped in Rocky, of course to keep me company. The story of an over the hill, down on his luck club fighter getting a shot at the heavyweight championship of the world seemed only natural as I drag my tired old bones through a workout in preparation for my own World Championship. All in all I find this struggle necessary. The mental aspects of the Ironman have to be developed and trained as well. I have to be prepared to march right up to my limits and keep going. I love running on the bike trails near the lake by my house. I can let my mind wander and feel the wind rushing past my face cooling me off. Running indoors has to be more like solitary confinement. No wind, no birds chirping no nature, nothing. I figure that the punishment of running all of those miles on a treadmill have to count for something. They are not just miles on my training plan. They are brutal, unforgiving reminder that there is nothing stopping you from ending your workout early. You are just as far from your house as you were when you started. If I can somehow fight off the piles of easy excuses sitting in front of me with the treadmill display begging me to count the seconds along with it, then I will be that much stronger on race day.