Under Pressure

Pressure is a funny thing.  It can help or hurt you in the most intense situations.  For me, its a crap shoot. This year, though, it hurt me, a lot.  A year ago I DNF'd Wildflower Long Course, and set out to return to it this year and finish.  We all know by now that I DNF'd, AGAIN.  Yes, I'm talking about this again.  But, only in relation to pressure.

Going in to the race this year I felt immense pressure to finish.  And, not just pressure I was putting on myself.  It felt like the entire world was putting pressure on me to get this race done this year.  Don't get me wrong, I don't think anyone was doing it on purpose, but everyone was doing it.  Going in to the race I felt like I had an enormous weight sitting on my shoulders.  Everyone seemed to be expecting so much.  And, I definitely cracked under that pressure, in to a million little pieces.

In the months leading up to the race I heard over and over and over again so many things from so many people.  "This is your day!" "You have to finish!".  "This is your time!" "This is your race!" "Its redemption." The list goes on and on, and on.  Several days after the race I was told by someone that I was only putting the pressure on myself, but in the next breath he said, "It would have been a major coups if you had finished Wildflower."  I don't think that anyone, especially that guy, realizes that its just that kind of thing that made me feel under more pressure.  To say it would be a major coups for me to finish is a huge amount of pressure for me to have been facing before I even got to the starting line.  I'm sure that no one meant to do anything other than encourage me, but when its coming from all sides like that, its overwhelming.  And, unfortunately I let all of this get to me, which was my mistake.  I should have said something.  I should have spoken up.  Unfortunately I think I was encouraging this pressure by my own attitude.

I felt like my friends, family, teammates (from last year and this year) were watching me, scrutinizing me, waiting for me to finish.  I started to feel like everyone around me wanted it for me more than I wanted it for myself.  And, that is where the cracks started to show.  Eventually I crumbled.  I fell apart on Saturday at the finish line, allowing a couple of trusted friends to comfort me as it all came crumbling down.  Sunday, after I finished the Olympic, the pressure from the season, from the year, everything that I felt everyone had put on me, everything I had ultimately put on myself finally felt lifted.

Some people thrive under pressure.  Hell, sometimes I do.  But this, this was too much.  I know that people will say that's what triathlon, or marathoning, or endurance sports are really all about, overcoming the pressure.  But this, this was too much, for me, for this year, it was just too much.  I just couldn't handle it.  Maybe it's a weakness I need to overcome. Or maybe, I just need to not think so much about the world around me.  About what those around me seem to believe I should be capable of (or am not capable of).

All that pressure it just was too much this time.  That pressure contributed to making this not fun for me. I think really, the most important thing is to remember that this is supposed to be fun.  I need to find the fun again.  And that is my new mission.  Find the fun.  I've taken the last week and a half off completely from training.  I'm not going to start training in a major way again quite yet.  I'll still be swim/bike/running, but at my own pace, in my own way.

I think last year I was under similar pressure after I didn't finish Wildflower.  I was still training for Vineman and definitely felt the pressure.  But, it was more like, can she do this? Will she do this?  Still pressure.  The thing I did differently last year?  I remembered that this is MY journey.  This was MY adventure.  This was MY road to travel down.  It didn't matter what anyone else thought or believed.  It was only what I believed in myself.  With some guidance from a couple of very wise coaches I got through the last 12 weeks of my season and finished Vineman - with a smile on my face the entire day.  Even with the pressure.  Last year I thrived.  Last year I found the courage that I needed to keep going. This year, I just forgot that the journey, its mine, not anyone else's.  Next time, I'll remember that.  Next time, it will be about me.  Next time I'll tell everyone to shut it, nicely of course. :)

Do you thrive under pressure? Does it ever feel like it's too much?

If you find yourself under pressure in training, or somewhere else, remember, this is your life, your journey, not anyone else's.  If you don't want to hear the chatter, make sure people know. If you do, more power to you!  Make sure the people around you know how you feel.  Regardless of how you feel about pressure, make sure everyone knows that you're busy doing everything you can, but that this is not about them, its about you.  Be a little bit selfish.  And know, you can do this.  You just have to WANT it.

And remember, its supposed to be fun, so enjoy yourself.

Wildflower 2013 Part 2 - Third Time's a Charm

So, Wildflower was obviously not the weekend I thought it would be.  As I said here, I was angry and disappointed that I didn't finish the race.  I had spent the better part of the last year thinking about that race, coming back, finishing it.  I was going to post this report on Friday, but after a meeting on Thursday night I needed to think about it a little more.  And I had this report written, but I didn't want to just post it, I knew I would go in and change things out of frustration.  And, I didn't want to do that.  I wanted my honest accounting of Sunday.  So, here goes.

I woke up on Sunday morning and still didn't feel great.  The weather was markedly different from the day before - cloudy, windy, chilly.  I didn't know if I was up for "racing" the Olympic (I use the term "racing" loosely, obviously I'm not in it to win it).  But, another part of me knew I would regret not doing it.  I got up and left the RV for a minute, used the bathroom, looked at the ominously dark clouds above.  With the wind it was chilly.  I felt a drop of rain.  I slouched back in to the RV, still didn't know what I would do.  Most everyone had left for the day already, I sat and ate some breakfast, very sticky oatmeal, conflicted.
 
Brad stopped by for a minute and after a quick conversation about how to manage the day I decided to go for it.  The plan was, just go down there and do the swim, and then decide from there if I wanted to do the bike.  I didn't have to do the whole thing if I didn't want to.  And, I already had the entry.  So, I decided to go for it.  I rode my bike down, got my transition area ready and found my teammate Amy.  She and I spent the time before the race start chatting and she braided my hair.  It was cold, and eventually I pulled on my wetsuit as I knew it would keep me warm.

Staying warm in silly bear hats

Cloudy skies

The clouds overhead were ominous looking and it was windy.  The sun started to peek out for a moment and then quickly hid again.  I knew that the lake was going to feel warmer than the air outside.  Finally it was time to head down to the boat ramp for the start.  I started with the TNT wave, 20 minutes before my actual wave start, just so I could get an earlier start (I had asked to switch the day before just so I could be done earlier).  I started in the middle, on the side, knowing that this wave would not be as brutal as my swim wave the day before.

The water was super choppy the whole way.  It felt more like swimming in the ocean than swimming in a lake (thank goodness I enjoy ocean swimming).  Every time I tried to sight I would get slapped in the face with a wave.  I think I swallowed about a gallon of water (seriously).  I wasn't swimming fast, and the swim out to the turnaround was slow and against a strong current.  The way back in was faster, but I was decidedly not trying to swim fast (swim time was around 40 minutes - according to Garmin just over 1 mile - although the garmin map was straight lines, so not sure how I didn't do .9 instead did 1.06).

I finished the swim and wasn't sure if I wanted to go ride my bike or not.  I walked up the boat ramp in to transition.  I nodded, very unsure, at Luke as I headed up.  As I was staring at my transition I decided to just go for it.  I took my time and got myself out of transition in about 8 minutes.  This bike course starts with an immediate climb, up Lynch hill.  It's about 3/4 of a mile and steep.  As I was headed up I saw Brad on the left and then a little further along Holly and Tushar (former Ironteam teammates, now with tri team).  I approached the top of the hill and I knew the Ironteam would be up there.  I saw Coach Holly cheering on my right, I think with Christine, and finally cracked a smile.  I pedalled hard and headed out.  Knowing the team was there got me to remember that this is supposed to be fun - something I had long since forgotten.

Biking out

I wasn't pushing the pace, at all.  I was just sort of going with it.  I knew I could finish this course and I still didn't know if I was going to run.  As I was going along I started making friends with people.  It was pretty windy (lots of headwinds and crosswinds) and I definitely didn't care about going fast.  On my way out of the park I saw my teammate Eric heading in, wearing just a speedo.  I chuckled and kept my eyes out for other teammates along the way.  I saw Dave as he was headed back in.  And, fairly early on Jen caught up to me.  I stayed close behind her for a bit, but I was pretty tired.  My body was definitely not fully recovered from the heat/dehydration from the day before.

Even with the wind though, I was so happy that it wasn't hot.  I couldn't have dealt with two hot days in a row.  I just kept going along.  As people would catch up to me I would hear, over and over again, "Hell ya this is what tough looks like!"  I smiled every time and it gave me an extra push.  On the way back in to the park my right leg was starting to hurt.  I wondered if running would be a good idea.  I made friends with a woman who said she had been keeping pace off of me the entire ride, and thanked me for helping her get to her goal.  We chatted for a bit on the way back in and then I  told her to go for it and take off (she was 60 and such an inspiration - seriously amazing woman).

Tough Chik Kit on race day

On the way back in, unsure if I was going to run yet

I saw the team at the top of Lynch, and as they cheered for me I waved them off.  I didn't know if I was going to run and I didn't feel like I deserved the cheering at that point.  I rode down Lynch and pulled in to transition just about 2 hours after I started (definitely slow, even on a hilly course, I could probably do it in more like 1:40, I think, but I had ridden ~40 hot, dehydrated, overheated miles the day before, and my leg is not 100%, so there's that).  I stared at my transition area for a minute and decided I might as well go run.  It was just the equivalent of an Amalfi loop.  Just do it.

I grabbed my water belt and goldfish out of my bento box and jogged to the transition exit 4 minutes after I entered (clearly I was not rushing).  I saw Riz and Tushar just outside of transition, as they cheered for me, I told them to stop.  Something about being cheered for sometimes makes me feel uncomfortable.  I don't know why.  I walked a lot on that run, my leg was really not happy.

I was enjoying munching on my goldfish and talking to people and thinking about the day before and what I could have done differently.  I lost my baggie of goldfish about a mile and a half in and I was so sad when I realized they were gone.  But, I just kept going.  I kept making friends with people and ticking off the miles (however slowly - mile 1 was 12:43, 2 was 14:30, 3 was 13:53, 4 was 13:42, 5 was 14:11).  I had to walk a lot.  My leg was just not having it.

The entire run I thought about the season that had passed.  I thought about where things had gone wrong.  I thought about what I had done wrong. Everything seemed to go upside down when I got sick and I never seemed to be able to right the ship.  I wondered if there was anything that could have been done differently.  I know that there were things I could have done to fix what went wrong.  I know that ultimately (even with so many other issues), there is no one to blame for any of this but myself.  That's not to say there weren't other people who could have helped turn things around.  But, this is my life, my training, my race, my responsibility.  Even with the responsibility of others, I should have done more to correct things.  I'm sad that I let things get so far out of control.  I'm sad that I didn't take advantage of the chances to make a change, to be better.

I got in to the pit and saw Coach Rob (former Ironteam coach, now tri team coach), he walked with me for a brief moment, encouraging me.  As I got to about mile 5 I saw Brad off to the side.  He had a big smile and told me how proud he was that I had gone out to do this whole thing.  He gave me a quick hug and reminded me that the team was up ahead.  I told him I had been mostly walking due to the leg pain.  He told me exactly where to start running again.  I took off.  I got to that point and started to run. I pulled off my hydration belt and sunglasses with the point of passing them off to someone, because they were both irritating me.

Knowing these crazy people were waiting gave me the motivation to keep going.

Thank you team.

I first saw Holly, Tushar and Jess (all ironteam alumni with tri team now).  I threw my stuff at them and continued to run.  I saw the team a few yards beyond and was so uplifted.  Seeing them gave me a huge boost.  I can't remember exactly who was there, but the smiling faces that I saw gave me so much energy.  Knowing the team was there, cheering and supporting was beyond amazing.  I was running hard at this point.  Dashing through the group with a big smile on my face.  They all seemed so excited to see me run through.  Pai followed me for a few yards and snapped some amazing pictures.

My leg was really hurting, I got around a corner and knew I was out of sight.  I slowed to a walk for a minute.  I remembered in that moment the point of the season.  The point of team.  The point of all of this.  No matter what has happened I knew that these incredible people were there for me, cheering me on, cheering everyone on.  I knew that none of the rest of it mattered.  My anger, my frustrations, being so hard on myself.  It all started to melt away.  I knew I needed to take advantage of the downhill and run it in.  I ran down the hill (finishing the last mile in 9:07) and slowed to a walk for a moment before I entered the finishing chute.

I contemplated the season, the team, the weekend.  I had a moment... I thought about how amazing these people all are.  I thought about all of my friends and teammates who had toed the line the day before for Long Course, the few who had come back out for the Olympic.  I thought about how incredibly happy I was for everyone who had finished the day before.  I was so proud of all of them.  I was so proud of everyone who had even started such a difficult race. I thought about the people who hadn't finished, for whatever reason, and it made me think about the year before, what that DNF had done for me - giving me the push to do the work and finish Vineman.  I thought about all of the amazing things that are still to come for so many of my teammates, regardless of what had happened the day before.

I started to run down the finish chute and could feel my eyes filling up with tears.  This wasn't the finish line I had worked for.  This wasn't the finish line I felt I deserved.  But, it was a Wildflower finish line.  And, I did deserve that finish line.  That is not an easy Olympic distance race, and should not be underestimated.  I was finally finishing a Wildflower race.  Finally.  It took me a year, and three tries, but I did, finally cross one Wildflower finish line (in around 4ish hours).  Third time's a charm....

I saw the tri team there waiting for the rest of their people, and Riz. She gave me the best finish line hug and I cried for a minute.  All the pressure was finally gone.  Released.  I looked up and saw Dave.  I gave him a hug and he congratulated me.  Knowing he had stayed there and waited, I was overwhelmed.  I finally felt a huge amount of relief.  While it wasn't the finish I was planning on, I did finish.

One day, I don't know when, I'll return to Wildflower.  One day I'll finish the Long Course, whether that's next year, or in a few years, I will return at some point.  I will finish.  For now, I'm not sure how much of myself I'm willing to give to that race.  One day...

For now, I'll remember the fun times I had this weekend.  The ridiculous things that happened.  The bra in the sofa.  The silly things.  Mohawks by Holly.  The fun things.  Late night birthday celebration for Amy.  The good things.  Spending time with some seriously wonderful people.

Thank you all for an incredible weekend.  It doesn't matter what happened.  All that matters is the road ahead.

Post script... based on a conversation I had on Saturday and then another on Sunday (thank you, if you are reading this, thank you for listening to me and help me find my way a little better)...

I posted on twitter last week that I wanted to forget the whole season.  That it all felt like a waste.  That is not true.  The season wasn't a waste, and I would hope that no one would think it was.  I have made new friends, and met some incredibly amazing people.  I have watched all of those people do things that they never thought they were capable of.  I have watched people blossom and grow and discover they are capable of so much more than they ever thought possible.  Regardless of how my season went, and the things that went wrong, this is an amazing team, filled with incredible people doing such astonishing things.

And, this is an incredible program, a program that changed my life from the minute I joined it, and continues to do so even today. I hope that those still on the team know that I would never want to affect their season negatively.  No, things didn't go my way this year, but that doesn't mean that it can't be a life changing, incredible year for everyone else (and that subsequent years can't be incredible for others too).  All it means is this wasn't my day.  There are always other races.  There is no lesson to learn from this.  The only takeaway should be to never give up, no matter what.  I had started to give up on myself at some point. But, I continued on, and I did get back out there on Sunday and helped myself find my way again.  I will return for a future season and know that this was a one-off situation, maybe next year, maybe the year after, maybe a new sport, maybe ultra, maybe returning to ironteam, I don't know yet.  It just didn't work out for me the way I wanted it to this year.  But, another day, it will.  It will continue to change my life for the better, if I let it.

And I was reminded by a former teammate, a cancer survivor, the reason I do all of this, the reason to keep doing it.  He reminded me that while this is so much harder for me than so many other people, it also makes me more relatable to so many people struggling (with or without cancer).  I struggle, and fail and have to work so hard just to finish just like so many others.  I am not a natural athlete, I probably have no business doing any of this.  It is unlikely that I will ever podium or qualify for prestigious races, but really that's not why I do all of this. I keep doing it because its important.  I keep doing it because it is life changing.  I keep doing it because one day there will be a cure.  I will return to TNT.  I will return to Wildflower at some point.  I still believe in this cause, and team, with all of my heart.

Now go out there and keep doing work.  Never give up on yourself and know that you are capable of anything you set your mind to - ANYTHING.

Perfection

"I try to focus on who I am rather than who I'm not." - Mariska Hargitay

We all have our challenges in life.  You, me, all of us. none are more or less important than the others. My challenges are no more important or less important than yours.

What makes us human, what defines us, as people, is how we deal with our own challenges.

No one is perfect, no matter how much they may want you to believe they are.  But, what we find in the imperfections, that's what makes us beautiful, real.

You are not perfect. I am not perfect.  All we can do is be open and honest about our imperfections.

In the words of Marilyn Monroe: "Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it's better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring."

Now, go be ridiculous, mad and imperfect.  Own it. Live it. Love it.

Wildflower 2013 - Part 1

First, this is just part 1.  I'll post part 2 tomorrow.  Yes, it has to be in pieces.  Too much to say.

I don't want to write this race report.  It makes it all real.  The final nail in the coffin.  And, every time I start to write it I tear up.  It's been five days though. It's time.  I can't keep ignoring it.  It's done, no matter how much I want to pretend it didn't happen.  So, let's backtrack...

This season has been less than stellar for me.  Only my second tri season and it's been slightly better than awful for most of it.  It started on a low note after our teammate Mari passed away.  Then with some friends I found the joy again cheering for our friends at IMAZ.  I was ready for something new, a change of some kind.  The new coaching might be just the thing to get me across the finish line this year at Wildflower.  I wanted to get faster, become better at climbing, find my way through the dark places my brain so rapidly rushes to when things are difficult.

Unfortunately things didn't go as planned.  I got super sick in January/February for nearly a month with a cold that turned in to bronchitis, that eventually turned in to asthma.  And, after an ugly email exchange with someone I wondered if I should even recommit.  I did, but I was apprehensive at this point.

I felt like I was on my own for most of the season.  I didn't get the coaching I needed and felt like I was mostly being ignored (note the word mostly - there were two coaches who were good about checking in with me).

Then I started to feel like I was getting slower on every single long ride we did.  I felt like I was being beaten down every week with no relief in sight, there was almost never a long ride that didn't feel like the hardest thing I had ever done (and I did complete a full ironman last year).  I didn't feel myself getting faster in any way, not climbing, not on flats.  I was just getting slower - average cycling miles per hour dropped from about 15-16 mph on easy rides in the off season to 11-12 mph in the weeks leading up to Wildflower.  This was not confidence boosting.  I was worried about making the cutoffs.

I eventually stopped going to coached swims and started swimming on my own because I didn't see the purpose of driving to a pool that wasn't near my house when I wasn't being coached.  I wasn't getting tips and I was struggling.  My pool swims continued their atrocious spiral.  I still did mostly okay in the open water (I prefer ocean swimming, or any open water swimming actually, to pool swimming, always).

My one saving grace was that I felt like my running was improving a bit.  I'm still not "fast" but I was still running strong, and better than I had the previous year.

Well, my running was going great until this happened.

Yep, fell off my chair at work.  I fell kind of hard.  I didn't think about it much at the time.  (And actually didn't put the pieces together that this is what caused the problem until a couple of days ago.) But, after that shit started to completely fall apart.  My hip/leg hurt every time I tried to run.  I thought it was my IT band and stretched, rolled, iced, advilled regularly praying it would start feeling better.  It didn't really.  About two weeks before the race I stopped running completely, hoping that would do the trick - cause running was making it worse - much worse.

I was feeling less and less confident about the race daily.  I was crumbling mentally and emotionally.  I felt like my coaches didn't believe me when I told them I was injured - they kept suggesting I run, even when I told them that's the only time my hip/leg hurt.  I felt like they thought I was lying.  My mental state leading in to the race was not ideal.  I was really worried about missing the cutoffs.  I wasn't excited about the race.  I didn't request the time off work until just about 2 weeks before.  I thought nearly every day about not going.  I had put myself in a position of having to climb out of an emotional black hole to even consider finishing.  I didn't know if I would be able to do it.

Now, back to race weekend.  I headed up to Lake San Antonio on Wednesday with Jeff, a teammate from last year who moved to New York but came back for the race.  We didn't camp, I RV'd it once again, this time in the Taj Mahal of RVs.  Ridiculous.

On Thursday and Friday as teammates arrived and the park filled up with triathletes we went for a couple of swims, I rode my bike a couple of times, continued to not run, drove the bike course, napped in the shade, picked up my packet - and discovered that I had the same damn race number from last year (seriously!?!).  People kept saying, it's redemption, its a do-over.  I felt like the race was taunting me, I didn't like it.

Napping in the shade

Seriously?!?

Race morning arrived and we headed down to transition.  Even though we were down there by about 6:30 and my wave start wasn't until 9:15 the time passed fairly quickly.  I got suited up and headed down for the swim.  I was feeling super anxious.  I saw Riz and my eyes welled up with tears.  She gave me a good luck hug and I headed down the ramp.  Then I saw Brad, and my eyes filled up again.  Another hug, a few words of encouragement and it was just about go time.

Marked.

Lisa and me

(I swear I have a neck, terrible picture of me)

Bobbi and me (see, I have a neck!)

Me and Sheree (again, I have a neck!)

I started toward the back of the pack, on the side.  Last year's swim was brutal at the start and I didn't want to get beat up again.  I just swam the best I could, I had planned to try to find someone to draft off of, but never did, I never found a good rhythm, worried about the day in front of me.  With about 400 yards left, I could see the boathouse by the dock approaching, something ridiculous happened.  I was swimming fairly wide of the buoy and there was no one around me, when some crazy broad from the wave behind me swam almost over me to pass me (there was easily 2-3 feet of space on either side of me) and then kicked me in the face, hard as she got past me.  What the fuck?  My goggles were askew, my face hurt.  I stopped to readjust and keep swimming.  It was harder now, focus completely gone.

I got out of the water and saw my swim time was 46ish minutes.  My goal had been 40 minutes.  This was really disappointing, more so than I realized at the time, and only 2 minutes faster than last year.  I thought about how I should have been swimming more throughout the season.  I had screwed myself.  I couldn't bring myself to run up the boat ramp, my face was throbbing.  As I entered transition I saw Coach Dave and Bobbi and shook my head at them so they knew I was not in a good way.  Bobbi followed me to my transition area and talked me through what had happened.  I was in tears, feeling so no not confident.  I didn't know if I could do this.

I got out of transition in under 7 minutes (not bad considering the walking/crying, although my goal had been under 5).  I started to ride and my eyes were filled with tears.  Everything felt wrong.  I just wanted to stop this charade.  I climbed Beach Hill and was passed by several teammates (seriously, what is my deal with climbing? I really need to work on it).  I saw Brad again at the top of Beach and, through tears, said I wanted to quit.  He said no I didn't.  I kept going.  A few hundred yards down the road was Riz, I had the same exchange with her.  This was starting off very poorly.

On the plus side, I was further along this time than I was last year when I saw the pros heading back in to the park.  Small victory.  The bad thoughts had come on so early in this race, I didn't know how I was going to get out of this negative head space.  Early on, my teammate Tara caught up to me and talked to me for a minute.  She helped me shake the dark place for a bit and I chased her for a few miles.  Thank you Tara, so much.  As we kept going it was so hot.  I felt like I was in an oven.  It was windy and no matter how hard I pushed I couldn't seem to get my speed above about 12 mph.

Then, about an hour in to the ride, the wheels really started to come off.  Every time I tried to drink my electrolyte drink (Fluid), I felt like I was going to gag.  I started to feel like I was going to throw up and I was SO hot.  I couldn't cool off.  I slowed down a bit and then saw a porta potty before the turn on to Jolon Rd at about mile 19.  I jumped off my bike and used it (I felt like I had to pee and couldn't pee on the bike - I hoped this stop would make me feel better).  No luck.  I hopped back on and then my teammate Jen caught me and asked how I was doing.  I told her what was going on and she suggested stopping at the next aid station to cool off.

I was just so hot.  All I could think was why can't I cool off?  I got water from them, threw my one empty bottle and took a water bottle.  I kept dumping it on myself, but within moments I would be dry and hot again.  Things were going from bad to worse.  I could feel the time slipping away from me, rapidly.  I was feeling more and more nauseated and could no longer consume anything but the warm water the aid stations were handing out.  This was bad.

I pulled in to an aid station around mile 25 and saw Meghan, a teammate from last year.  I fell apart when I told her what was happening.  I couldn't believe I was falling apart so completely so early on.  I didn't know if I should keep going.  I asked how far the next aid station was and decided I could get at least that far.  Meghan and I leap frogged for a while.  It was super windy and dry and just so hot.  All I could focus on was how hot outside it was, and how hot I was.  It was an all consuming thought.

I got to the next aid station and they were out of drinkable water.  What?! That's all I could take in at that point and there was none left.  I tried Gatorade and felt my stomach flip flop.  Ugh.  I stayed there for a while and then decided I could make it to the next aid station.  This was a suffer fest, but goddammit, I was going to finish it.  I pedaled on down the road. I looked at my speed, it was under 10 mph.  I was trying hard and couldn't get anything out of my legs.  As I left the aid station the wind was seriously picking up (they had to take down the pop up tent they had because it kept blowing over).  The plants on the side of the road were bending pretty far and I was headed in to a convection oven of head winds.

I stopped about 3 miles down the road for a moment to try to cool myself off a bit.  I had nothing left.  There was no one around.  I was torn, go back to the aid station behind me, or keep trudging forward, I was about half way between them. I was so hot and so nauseated.  I had only consumed one of my bottles of electrolytes/nutrition.  It had been more than 2 hours of just small sips of water, and I didn't even have that anymore.  I saw an official vehicle approaching.  He asked if I needed anything, and I knew what had to happen. I said, yes, to be picked up.

I was officially done.  I was wrecked.  This was a heart wrenching decision to make.  To not even finish the bike course.  But, I could feel my body shutting down.  I had nothing left.  He picked me up and took myself and the two other racers in his car to the boat shuttle so we could get back to transition.  I had no way of notifying anyone that I was in a car, DNF'd.  As we drove to the boat shuttle the outside temperature on the car thermometer read 95.  We saw person after person on the side of the road.  The vehicle would be back to get them after he dropped us.

My mouth and throat were so dry and the little water I had was long gone, my lips were chapped and cracked and my chapstick wasn't helping.  My stomach was churning.  My body felt awful.  The boat ride across the lake was the first time I felt cool, not even in the air conditioned truck.  The light spray of the water and the breeze, I was beginning to feel slightly more normal again.  I trekked in to transition and several people said, "Where'd you come from? We didn't see you ride in."  I briefly told them what happened and handed over my timing chip.  I was done.  I had no tears.  I was physically and emotionally exhausted.   I saw the final few teammates who made the bike cutoff and then held it together for those I knew were about to miss it.

I packed up my bag, left it at my transition spot and walked up to the finish line to wait for the rest of the team.  I had to tell person after person what happened. I tried really hard to hold it together and only started crying a couple of times - once with Rob - who reassured me I had made the right decision.  And, the second time, I completely fell apart when I saw Brad.  All the pressure from the day just came pouring out of me.  I felt like I had let myself down, let him down, let my friends down, let my teammates down.  I felt like a huge fucking failure.  How was I supposed to tell people that not only did I DNF AGAIN, but that I didn't even finish the bike this time?

What now?  What was the point in all of this?  I was in a very dark place.  I needed food and water, and had only had a few pretzels and a little water.  I kept a bag of ice on my head trying to cool down.  I was still so hot.  I had a decision to make.  I had an entry in to the Olympic distance race the next day.  Did I use it?  First, I needed to get myself as close to normal as possible, and that required food, hydration, a shower and sleep.

Back at the RV I ate some pasta and finally was able to drink some Gatorade.  Coach Dave came in to check on me, the first coach from this season to check on me in several hours (back to the whole I don't think they believe me when I say I'm sick/hurting thing).  Unfortunately I was in a very dark, angry place and I just unloaded everything on him. He heard most of what has been making me angry for weeks and weeks (Dave, if you're reading this, there was so much more that I didn't say).  I had what my mom likes to call "an Elisabeth moment."  It's when everything just comes spilling out in rage and anger and I can't hold it in anymore.  Unfortunately Holly and Jeff were in the RV at the time and had to hear all of it.  I won't apologize for anything I said, because I meant all of it - even when I said I wanted to punch someone in the face - cause I still want to punch that person in the face, but I won't.

I decided I would figure out if I was going to race on Sunday in the morning.  I packed up my bag just in case and fell asleep.  I woke up in the morning and was still super conflicted about it.  Brad came by and talked to me for a minute - and again, I teared up (apparently all I ever do is cry around him anymore).  I decided I would go down to the start and at least do the swim, then I'd take the day from there...

I'll post the rest of the story tomorrow - including the fun parts of the weekend.  I promise.  But, this is long enough as it is.  Sorry about the delay in getting it written I just didn't have it in me before now.

Wildflower Goals

T-minus 3 days 16 hours days til Wildflower Long Course.

I should be super excited.  I've been training for this for 6 months. I've been thinking about it for the better part of the last year.  I should be stoked to take on this course again and finish this time.  I should be.

But, instead of being excited I'm injured.  Yep, injured.  Four days and I don't know if I'll be able to run a single step.  I haven't run in 10+ days, at all, and the last time I did I had shooting pain in my hip/IT band/groin (and have a constant mild pain in that area pretty much all the time right now - yikes).  Not ideal ever, but really not ideal this close to a race.  It's not like I'm trying to podium or anything, haha! No, I'm just trying to finish.  To prove to myself that I can finish.

I'm a much stronger athlete this year than I was last year.  I am a faster swimmer, a stronger/faster cyclist and a much better/faster runner.  I know I can finish this course.  I know what I need to do.  The question is, can I do it?

The injury is bad enough that I've scrapped my plans for Vineman 70.3.  I haven't taken myself off of the waitlist, I think secretly hoping that I'll wake up and feel magically better before I get in.  But, I know that isn't realistic.  I need to rest and recover.

What exactly did I do?  I'm not 100% sure.  Might be an overuse injury.  I haven't gone to a doctor because the last time I had a similar injury they told me I needed to rest.  I know that, but I have this big race I've been training for, so ya, it'll have to wait.

Here's my self diagnosis: I pulled a groin muscle on the right side last year when I fell off my bike (it was like January of last year when I was still disastrous on nearly every ride).  I went to PT and it got better, didn't ever really think about it again.  Several weeks ago we were riding in Zuma Beach and I suddenly felt a twinge in the same area and my right hip.  I stopped, stretched and continued on.  I wound up turning around early on the final big climb because it suddenly felt like my hip was on fire.  I cut the ride short hoping it was a one-off situation and then tried to run.  That didn't go so well, I ran about a mile and then had to turn around and walk back because it hurt so much.

I stretched, rolled, iced and took Advil.  The next day I woke up and the pain was so bad that I decided not to run.  I rested instead.  I continued the stretch/ice/roll/advil routine all week long.  I had been okay for a ride that Wednesday, and it seemed okay on Thursday when it was time to run again (note: okay does not mean better, I was feeling something, but not severe pain).  So, I went for an easier than scheduled run (we were supposed to do tempo, I think?).  About a mile and a half in I was in tears and wound up walking/limping my way back.

I emailed the coaches the next day, we had our "Power Brick" that weekend, 60 mile ride, 10 mile run.  I wanted to do the whole thing, certainly the entire ride, but was put on a "Below the Waist Injury Ride" and it was suggested that I do the 10 mile run, even though my hip was killing me when I ran.  I finished the ride and tried to run, got lost, and wound up in some pretty bad pain, and only got through just under four miles, of mostly walking.  The next day it was suggested that I try to do the 6 mile run with the team.  This time I made it 1 mile before it began to hurt.  I turned around and hobbled back to my car, in tears.  I was frustrated because I was in pain and I felt like I wasn't being believed.

That's the last time I ran, more than 10 days ago.  I've been swimming and cycling still.  And, resting a lot.  And stretching, rolling, icing and taking Advil like crazy.  I just need to be okay on Saturday.  Or relatively okay.  I've basically walked a half marathon before in under 3 hours, so I know I CAN walk it if I need to (it'll likely take more than 3 hours cause that course is HARD).  But, I don't want that to happen.  I want to run.  I want to run down that finishers chute and not be in pain (well, not this pain, that's a tough course, there will probably be some pain involved) and know that I gave it everything I have.  I want to wake up the next day and do the Olympic distance race.

So, what am I going to do?  I'm going to swim hard and get through transition as fast as possible.  Then I'm going to give it everything I've got on the bike.  I know what I need to do and when I need to do it.  I'm going to leave it all out there.  And, then I'm going to get off my bike, before the cutoff (even if it kills me) and try to run.  We'll see how it goes.  I don't expect I'll run at all for the rest of the week except for a warm up jog on Saturday morning before I start.  So, it will be interesting, to say the least.

Can I finish Wildflower?  I think so. I believe I can finish the bike course before the cutoff time.  It's just a matter of how much pain I'm in.  While my hip hasn't hurt on the bike at this point, I haven't done any major climbing since the pain started, and this is the opposite of a flat course.  I'm definitely worried.  This course is intimidating without an injury.  With an injury, well... lets just say I'm worried.  This injury nonsense is making me crazy.

This course is NO joke.

Its crazy to me how many people believe in me, how many people think I can finish this course.  I want to thank everyone who has encouraged me.  Your belief in me makes me believe in me too.  I want to finish it. I believe I can. I just don't know, realistically, if I can push through the pain and keep going.  I don't really know HOW to push through the pain.  I still have to figure that out.  I've never had to push through that pain place, I've been lucky.

So, back to my goals for the weekend.  Miracle goal: Finish Long and Olympic. Ha. A Goal: Finish Long course. B goal: Leg doesn't fall off. C goal: Don't die.

In less than 24 hours I'll be in my car and headed to Lake San Antonio.  Wish me luck, think healing, pain free thoughts, and keep your fingers crossed that my leg feels better before Saturday, or better enough for 70.3 miles of swim, bike run.

Kona Inspired

I've been trying to figure out what to write here about this.  I don't know that there is anything I can say that this video doesn't say much more beautifully than I ever could.

Please take a look at it and vote for my Ironteam teammate Kelly.  She is trying to get to Ironman Kona (the world championships) through the Kona Inspired program.  Race weekend will mark one year since we lost our teammate Marisela in a cycling accident along PCH. There would be no better way to honor her memory than by being at that race.  Please help my teammate and friend get to Kona to race in memory of my teammate, friend and TNT mentor Mari.

Mari was "All in" and Kelly will be too.  Help her honor and remember our teammate.  The video is short (under 2 minutes), and truly beautiful (made with the help of a few of our super talented teammates, Travis, Rommel and Scott), and left me in tears as I watched it and remembered everything that had happened.  Watch it and vote for it (there's a little heart on the bottom of the video to vote).  Vote a lot and help get Kelly to Kona to be Kona Inspired and "All in" in memory of Mari.

http://konainspired.thismoment.com/base/kona?region_id=us-en&content_id=703

8

8.

For those who aren't aware what these numbers I keep posting mean: in exactly 8 days (at 9:15am on Saturday May 4th) I'll be toeing the start line at Widlflower Long Course.  Wildflower is considered one of the more difficult half iron distance triathlons around (1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, 13.1 mile run).  Take a look at the elevation profile for the bike and run, it's no joke - I think if the race directors could figure out how to, they'd make the swim up hill too!

This race tried to get the best of me last year, I DNF'd (did not finish) missing the bike cutoff by about 18 minutes (yes, that means I was going very slowly last year).  I was hugely disappointed and wondered how I would finish Vineman (full iron - so twice the distance) just three short months later.

But, that DNF was the best thing that could have happened to me.   The day after Long Course I cheered with my teammates for the Olympic distance racers and remembered that it's not always about finishing, more often its about the journey, its about learning something.  And, that race taught me a huge lesson and sent me on the journey of my life.

The lesson: if you don't work hard enough and don't want it badly enough, you won't achieve your dreams.  I wasn't putting in enough work before Wildflower and it showed.  After Wildflower I redoubled my efforts.

The journey: I worked my ass off.  I don't think I missed a single workout - partly because I was scared, but mostly because I REALLY wanted it, more than anything I wanted that finish line.  I rarely saw my family, and if I did I was eating and/or doing laundry (this also usually involved napping on a chair or couch at their house).  I saw even less of my non-ironteam friends.

It was the hardest, and most rewarding three months of my life.  I saw myself transform in to a new person.  A person who knew that she was capable of anything she set her mind to.  A person who wanted something so badly she could feel it, taste it, see it, breathe it, every moment.  A person who was determined, beyond anything, to prove not only to myself, but to the world, that I can and will finish what I started.

Not crossing that finish line at Wildflower lead me to one of the greatest days of my life, which culminated in crossing the finish line at Vineman.  All the sacrifice, all the hard work, it was worth it.  I crossed the finish line and something about me changed, I was the same, in a way, but completely changed - to my core.  I was now, and always will be, that changed girl, now an ironman.

After I didn't finish Wildflower I knew I needed to come back and finish it this year.  I knew I needed to prove to myself that I could do this.  That I had it in me.  This race wasn't going to win.  This season has been less than ideal for me - for many reasons (health: zombie plague, foot issues, now IT band/hip issues; mentally: fearing the DNF - which I still fear a little bit; emotionally: this one is harder to explain, but its been VERY up and down for many reasons and started off in such a sad place, but has become about celebrating life and living it to the fullest).

I've done what I can and now all I can do is go out there and give it all I've got.  In 8 days I will start Wildflower, and cover all 70.3 miles.  And then, I will finish.  The end.  Even if I'm hurting I will put every ounce of myself in to that race.  It can not and will not get the best of me this year.

I will be a Wildflower finisher.  (And then I will rest and heal.)

Thank you to all of you who have been there with me on this journey, supporting me every crazy step of the way.  I'm ready for this (I'm still nervous and a little scared of this race, but ready to face it head on) and then ready for my next big challenge, whatever that may be.

8 days.  Lets go.