I may have to take a second mortgage on our house. Perhaps borrow thousands on my credit card, maybe raid my retirement savings.

Why, you ask?

Simple.

Because I'm training for Ironman Coeur d'Alene in June. Turns out, I've been going about it all wrong. I finally understand why I haven't won this race yet. I now know what it takes to do well.

And this, according to an article I read in Triathlete magazine, is what I need to make it to the finish line. And yes, they're serious:

• Coach - "the biggest investment you can make."

• Massage therapist - "Massage is a necessity, not a luxury."

• Physical therapist - "Muscles that aren't in alignment mean that you are not firing on all cylinders."

• Qualified sports nutritionist - "Nutrition really is the fourth sport of triathlon."

• Bike shop mechanic - "There's a long list of equipment tasks that need to be attended to before race day."

• Mentor - "can give you all the little tips you may not think of."

• Sports psychologist - "can help with goal setting and mental preparation."

• Unwavering fan club - "friends and family that support you no matter how well you do."

Is that it?

Even I, a fan and finisher of Ironman Coeur d'Alene, question if all these people are really necessary so you can swim, bike and run 140.6 miles in under 17 hours. If you're one of the guys or gals vying for first place, then sure. That's their life. But that's quite a support crew for us middle-of-the-packers so you can say, "I'm an Ironman!"

Really, for all that, I should at least be the winner of a local fun run.

Fortunately, I do have such a crew. But instead of eight people, it's all wrapped up in one. Who, you ask, could fill so many roles and you don't even have to pay them? Who could and would do all this for little more than an occasional grunt of appreciation? Who could possibly care that much?

The Triathlete article recommended if you find such a person, you should marry them.

I did.

More than anyone, my wife was responsible for getting me to the finish line.

First, there's the coach and mentor. Marianne knows more about my training than anyone. She has been the one who has been there when I've come home wiped out from 20-mile runs, 90-mile bike rides and long swims. She knows when I'm pushing too hard and not enough and when I'm just whining.

What about a massage and a physical therapist? Yep, she does all that. She offers good advice and treatment if my lower back is tweaked, my neck is sore, my knee is twinging.

Nutritionist? Does that, too. I get all the carbs, proteins and fuels I need from her dinners. She even buys light beer for me and doesn't mind when I come up with boxes of Powerbars.

Sports psychologist? She gets to listen to my constant ramblings about how I've got to train more. She's there when I'm confident about kicking some butt at an upcoming race, or have doubts that I can run fast anymore and anguish that I can no longer beat my sons and daughters.

Fan club? Honestly, who else would really tolerate someone they love spending hours away from home so they can bike in the morning, run at lunch and swim after work? On Ironman day, who else would accompany me to the starting line at 6 a.m., kiss me for luck, cheer as I ride by on my bike in 2,000th place, and catch me after I struggle across the finish line in the dark?

Perhaps, some day, my wife will decide to do Ironman and it will be my turn to be the coach, therapist, mechanic, nutritionist, mentor, psychologist and fan club.

Hmmm. Then again, maybe not.

Too much work.

Bill Buley is the city editor of The Press. He can be reached at 664-8176, ext. 2016, and [email protected].