Hey everyone
Humbled, hurting, and happy; I want to give you a re-cap on this past weekend's race experience. I feel good about sharing this without any self-obsessed or narcissistic moments because most of my strengths and gains had much to do with YOU. Not me.
Saturday I did the Show Low AZ Half distance triathlon (1.5 mi swim, 56 mi bike, and 13 mi run) and Sunday I relayed the Xterra triathlon race doing the 5 mi trail run portion. The trail run on dead legs was epic as I had zero expectations for myself and the most gorgeous mountain run background for which you could ever hope to cool the blow of 2 day hell. The day prior, the day for which I trained, the day for which my watts and protein/carbs per workout were perfectly calculated, the day I ran over and over in my mind....tested everything.
Usual pre swim jitters. But I'm a good swimmer. I got this. I get in front for the start. I'm fresh and have my 'old faithful' goggles I ALWAYS race. They are used and ugly but I'm stubborn and cheap, so. We start and ol faithfuls fog in the first 100 yrds. I come up to rub my thumbs over them and SNAP! Ol faithful strap snapped. No goggles and 1.5 mi of water ahead of me. I wanted to cry. I think I did.
Then I was pissed. 'F' those goggles and 'F' this swim. I planned on swimming it faster then if I were able to see. I went for it and lasted 100 more yrds, was blind beyond blind, and I think cried again. Rest of the longest swim of my life was dedicated to squinting and telling myself 'just one stroke closer to finishing'. I enlisted thoughts of my clients figuring out the magic formula for getting away from me (sometimes): Going faster equals over faster....not bitching or crying equals quitting. Made it out of the water. Eyes so so swollen nearly shut. Sigh...that's racing. I remind myself that I CHOSE to give all but my second born child to this mayhem. So deal with it in other words, Nancy.
The bike was then my best friend. Which is ridiculous as my bike didn't comfort me and buy me a drink. It just hurt my ass so bad. Neverthless the windiest course in the world, luckily for me gave me a gift; a huge hill. I'm not a great flat rider, but I can mosy up a hill boy. 18 mi uphill with 25 mph headwind the whole time, just destroyed everyone and gave me a shot at pulling past many of my competitors swimming by me with dry protected eyes. Those sissy la-la's haven't raced til they try THAT.
Anyway excuse my arrogance. Its over with the bike leg. While the run is normally my strength and I just love to chase me down some tired peeps on foot, it was the run leg which made me question it ALL. What did I do wrong in my training? Do I not deserve this? Does the universe feel I was meant to be a sedentary housewife and at a nail appt instead today? What happened to my lungs all of a sudden?
....The flippin altitude happened. 9500 literally has the ability to turn someone inside out. My innards were exposed a lot. The worst thing is, is that I totally knew about altitude affects. I live in Boulder City though and spend a fortune as it is on gas so was NOT going to schlep my ass after work sacrificing precious time with my son to Mt Charleston. I planned on just hydrating more than humanly possible as my best defense. It was that I think that made it so I even made it to the god awful run in the first place. (And it was also that very fluid that covered the front of my jersey and legs 15 min after the celebratory finish, when the hypoxic high wore off).
Altitude attacks muscles, lungs, heart, and stomach. I had it all. I'm used to getting off the bike for a half and averaging 7:15 or 7:30 pace for the 13 mi run. That was a long gone fantasy (I looked at last year's splits and thought only slower peeps did this race. Stupid me). There was not enough oxygen in the world and my 115 lb frame turned to 215... 230 with every step of the mostly hell trail half marathon.
I can't remember if people were passing me. I had to let go of the idea of winning. Let go of any expectations and go back to the grounded days of 'just finishing'. I'm very spoiled and always place well in races. This day I just wanted to be placed at the finish line. Alive. Barf cleaned off of me. Not since the natural, home birth of my son had I been challenged physically like this. I wanted to curl up into a ball and hide. I wanted to walk. I wanted air and a non-redlined heart rate.
I tried every mental game to get my mind out of hell. I sang, counted steps, pretended like I was on any ol' morning run, and even planned out the menu of grease I was to inhale upon finishing. But there was no escaping this. And if I did I would be shamed by my own words to my clients who work so hard with me. 'This is nothing of which you can't handle'. Suddenly I didn't want to escape. I wanted to be in hell and get through it. I wanted to be like all my courageous clients who want nothing more than to disappear from my workout yet keep pushing on. Til its over. And they're my heroes. And they're their own heroes.
Upon having much better morale, a chain reaction of positive thought flows through an absolute wrecked body and mind. If I can get through this in life, I can get through anything. Muscle group by muscle group I thanked my body. My mantra included, "Thank you clients for keeping me true to my words. Thank you Luke for never letting me know what it's like to relax. Thank you family for understanding that I'm crazy...." and so on.
.....How I won my age group Saturday for the Half Ironman distance triathlon or how our relay team won the Xterra on Sunday, I have no idea. Except the possibility of the strongest people in the world not necessarily on this race course, but on this life course, pulling me through. Thank you!
Your biggest fan,
Nancy
