Triathletes are type-A personalities, don't get me wrong. You have to plan and train and plan and train some more because you never know what a race will bring. You never know what a training day will bring sometimes. (I know somewhere out there Sam has a picture of me passed out in dehydration at the top of Bonny Doon in Santa Cruz because I forgot to drink, refused to take off my vest, while climbing a steep, long, hill in the heat. Unfortunately the girls could not carry me down the hill with my bike so they had to wait for me to rehydrate before we headed oh 40 miles back to the car!) I was the quiet, sometimes complaining type, who did every workout religiously for almost two years. I didn't feel like I had an option. I refused to DNF in a race, unless I ran out of inner tubes. I sometimes refused to quit even while injured.
I've finished many races while sick to my stomach or as I put it, "on one leg." (Ironman CDA 2007, drank too much lake water, sick on most of the bike, Chicago Marathon 2006, strained calf muscle, Philly Marathon 2007, hurt knee.)
But every race has been a good race because I always won. In the beginning I used to beat myself up for not finishing in the top 25%. When I used to run 5-10ks primarily, I'd finish in the top 10-25% of the females without fail. In a triathlon, I'd be lucky to finish in the top 50% overall. At some point, I decided that it was stupid to be so hard on myself. Maybe it was the sense of completion. Maybe it was knowing that I could do something stupidly selfish and painful and fun and enjoy it. Maybe it was the sense of camaraderie among fellow triathletes and training partners. Maybe it was the sense of feeling alive with physical pain and joy at the same time. I'm not sure. I know that I initially signed up to do an Ironman and a half-Ironman because I felt the Olympic was "too easy." I laugh at that now because I can probably eek out a half-marathon only under extreme duress. Life isn't easy. Why did I make it harder? Because I could and I loved every minute of it.
I think that my life as an endurance athlete is largely over for now. I might come back to it. In memory, I'm posting the emotional version of my Ironman CDA 2007 report.
Race start. Took a look at the churning lake water standing next to Cheyenne and 1500 other swimmers on a shallow beach and thought WTF am I thinking? I can't do this! Heard the announcer say that due to bad water conditions, we can elect not to do the swim and start on the bike instead. I thought about it for two long minutes and decided that I had to swim. Ironman isn't an Ironman without swim/bike/run.
The swim was awful. Two loops. Too many people. Kicked, swam over, swallowed a ton of water. After the first loop, I stood on the beach and thought about quitting. Instead I took a breathe and dove back in.
Transition 1: Pulled a calf muscle while getting out of wetsuit. Swallowed tears. Got on the bike, shaking and cold and took off.
Bike Loop 1: Okay, but numb both physically and mentally. Just trying to get my rhythm. Got it at mile 40 in the hills. Rhythm lasted for only 16 miles until I got my special needs bag. Almost didn't continue after going through my special needs bag. Sick to my stomach and already tired.
Bike Loop 2: Gutted it out. Forced myself to eat. Knew I had swallowed too much water but there was nothing to be done. Wanted off the saddle at every mile. Tried to stay upbeat because I knew that I could do it. I had trained for so long. But it was hard. My body wanted a nap. And I felt like the fattest, slowest biker out there.
Transition 2: Elated because I love running! Threw my bike at the volunteers, grabbed my run stuff and took off at a 8min/mile pace! Woohooo!
Run Loop 1: The 8min/mile pace lasted for 2 miles. All my friends in the race said who I ran by said, woah, Helen, you are going to fast. I didn't care. I love running! The next five miles went fine, then I hit a wall and my stomach issues came back. Around mile 10, I was in pain. All my joints hurt. It was getting dark and everyone else was finishing. I was a failure and wouldn't make my time goal.
Run Loop 2: Sadness and determination. Thought about my family every mile. Though about the boy every mile. Walked and ran and walked because it was too hard to run. Cried openly only when it got dark so no one would see. Cried and grinned and thanked the volunteers. One mile to go and I ran that last mile. Janet, Amelia, and Janice were at the line! I was done and I never, ever wanted to do that again.
Post race 1 week. Utter depression. And the rest is chronicled.
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