I like to tease my wife from time to time that I know exactly what childbirth is like because I’ve done Ironman. How different can it be, really? You have 9 months of "training" followed by 10 hours – give or take – of labor. Then you’re sore for a while, post-event depression sets in, and you just don’t feel quite right.
In all seriousness, I would rather do 10 Ironman races – back to back – than go through the fear and pain of delivering a child. I don't really think there’s any comparison, but it’s a good way to fire up your significant other if you are in the mood.
One similarity, however, is the short term memory loss following the event. Why else would we ever do either again? At the finish line of Ironman Coeur d’Alene last year I announced, with every intention of holding true to my word, I would never do another Ironman. And yet I found myself signing up for IMWI just 3 days later.
Truth be told, I don’t find IM races enjoyable at all, and the majority of my race is spent trying to convince myself I should continue even though I am in agony. I love the training, camaraderie and the lifestyle, but not necessarily the races themselves. But I keep coming back for more, and I don’t really know if I will ever be able to stop.
So imagine my surprise, now a week past my first Bone Ride (for the uninitiated, the Bone Ride is a 155-mile jaunt from Wauwatosa to Madison and back, where up to 200 riders pummel each other into the ground, slowly but surely splintering the initial group into small packs of babbling and wrecked individuals), where I still sit and curse my experience, considering it – at best – one of my biggest cycling mistakes ever.
Not that anything went really wrong. Perhaps it was just the jump in mileage, with my longest ride of the year leading into the Bone Ride at 70 miles. Perhaps it was the persistent, 25mph cross winds. Perhaps I went too hard too early. Perhaps it was nutrition. Either way, the end result wasn’t pretty. It was, in fact, downright ugly.
I’ve learned never to say never, but let me just throw this out there: there is no way I will ever do the Bone Ride again. Never, never, ever.
So next time anyone brings up how tough childbirth is, I’ll tell them I know exactly what it’s like. Actually, I know and have experienced something worse: The Bone Ride. And it only took 7:59:55 of misery to discover it.
In all seriousness, I would rather do 10 Ironman races – back to back – than go through the fear and pain of delivering a child. I don't really think there’s any comparison, but it’s a good way to fire up your significant other if you are in the mood.
One similarity, however, is the short term memory loss following the event. Why else would we ever do either again? At the finish line of Ironman Coeur d’Alene last year I announced, with every intention of holding true to my word, I would never do another Ironman. And yet I found myself signing up for IMWI just 3 days later.
Truth be told, I don’t find IM races enjoyable at all, and the majority of my race is spent trying to convince myself I should continue even though I am in agony. I love the training, camaraderie and the lifestyle, but not necessarily the races themselves. But I keep coming back for more, and I don’t really know if I will ever be able to stop.
So imagine my surprise, now a week past my first Bone Ride (for the uninitiated, the Bone Ride is a 155-mile jaunt from Wauwatosa to Madison and back, where up to 200 riders pummel each other into the ground, slowly but surely splintering the initial group into small packs of babbling and wrecked individuals), where I still sit and curse my experience, considering it – at best – one of my biggest cycling mistakes ever.
Not that anything went really wrong. Perhaps it was just the jump in mileage, with my longest ride of the year leading into the Bone Ride at 70 miles. Perhaps it was the persistent, 25mph cross winds. Perhaps I went too hard too early. Perhaps it was nutrition. Either way, the end result wasn’t pretty. It was, in fact, downright ugly.
I’ve learned never to say never, but let me just throw this out there: there is no way I will ever do the Bone Ride again. Never, never, ever.
So next time anyone brings up how tough childbirth is, I’ll tell them I know exactly what it’s like. Actually, I know and have experienced something worse: The Bone Ride. And it only took 7:59:55 of misery to discover it.
