On my way up to Lake Placid today I was alone in the car driving for about 6 hours. Although there were periods of singing along (in key, of course) to the songs on the radio and that singing was loud, it did give me time to thing without a lot of distractions. The net of this soul searching was the title of this blog entry.
But Rock Star, you know stuff. Most of it is useless but there is a gem often hidden in the muck, right? You've done all sorts of events, coached people in endurance sports, got certifications and licenses, have hundreds of people working for you in real life, you have patents, you even worked on the Space Shuttle back in the day you real life rocket scientist. You must know some thing even if it is simply how to wipe your own ass.
If I knew anything why would I have gone up to Placid without being properly trained? Because I rationalized it. I convinced myself that I knew something and there are exceptions to the rule and because I did it before I should be able to do it again and, and, and, (you get the picture).
In summary, I've been listened to the voice in my head. That voice, I determined during my drive, knows nothing. It doesn't know when things are going good or when things are going bad. It keeps telling me not to train because there is plenty of time to make the training up but there isn't. When something hurts it convinces me to shut it down so I don't get injured rather than having confidence to tough it out. It rationalizes the amount of food that I eat and tells me that in spite of all evidence to the contrary I'll be about to lose a gazillion pounds almost instantaneously. All wrong.
So, what to do?
I'm here in Placid looking at Mirror Lake. I've brought all my stuff even though I doubt my wetsuit will fit. The bipolar voice in my head keeps telling me that I will amazingly gain all the fitness necessary to be amazing but then it changes its tune rather quickly and rather often. The new tune is a variation on a requiem.
I originally went into this weekend with the plan of swimming a lap (1.2 miles), biking at least a lap 56 miles on Saturday and see if Sunday mixes in a run or a swim or another shorter bike ride before the drive home. My new plan is that I'm going to try a bunch of stuff and see how it goes.
What that stuff winds up being will determine if I should listen to myself or perhaps revalidate the need for a coach to be that voice. Either way, the weekend will have value.