Week Twenty-Seven

I just came back from our big practice weekend down at Lake San Antonio. It's called "Halfway to Ironman" where we were to complete the Wildflower Long Course, one of the hardest half-ironman triathlons around. I packed up all my camping and tri gear, which was enough to completely pack my jetta, dropped my pup at "Auntie Sara and Uncle Michael's," and headed down for the almost 3 hour drive.

Friday night was nice. We all packed up our transition bags (this was the first time I'd be using bags for the transition area rather than laying everything out), hung out together, ate dinner, and I managed to get to bed pretty early. (I'm really good at that!) I knew I needed a good night's sleep for what was in store on Saturday:

I woke up Saturday morning, feeling good and ready to go. I rode down with Coach Dan, got body-marked (number 0002!), and mentally went through my transitions in my mind a few times (I had some time to kill.). It was pretty chilly in the morning, so I had the usual nerves in anticipation of being really cold in the water. In light of this being a race simulation, I left all of my comfort/luxury items at home (ear plugs, squid lid, booties) and just went with the bare necessities. I squeezed into my wetsuit, and within no time at all the team was heading down to the lake.

In my mind, I was thinking of my first triathlon, which was this same course last year. It took me 8 hours and 19 minutes to complete, with a swim of 51:44, a bike of 4:16, and a run of 3:04. I was really focused on wanting to PR (personal record), to use this day as a marker for how far I had come in my training since last year.



We were all going to start en masse, and so we stepped into the lake. The bottom of the lake was so muddy and soft that my foot dropped down maybe even a foot under the mud with every step. I was so grossed out that I just swam out as to where I couldn't stand as fast as I could. (Usually I like to slowly get used to the temperature, one step at a time. Thank goodness it wasn't really that cold!) We all bobbed around, waiting for our start. I was ready!

When it was time to start, I started my stopwatch and headed out. The first thing I noticed was the millions of particles of algae (?) that I was swimming through. It looked like tiny worms, about half an inch long and as skinny as grass. There were millions of them. There was no escaping it; I knew that if I cared about PRing, I'd just have to accept the fact that they were going to enter my mouth with every breath (I exhale with my mouth open), and that I just might end up swallowing them.

I tried my best to sight the buoys, but they were really hard to discern from all of the different colored swim caps ahead of me. I tried my best to focus on my technique, and to not distract myself with other thoughts. I definitely did swallow a little lake water, and just tried to convince myself that if the food's good enough for the fish, it's good enough for me! I never actually saw the first buoy and I wonder if I swam straight or if I added on extra distance by going too far out to the side. The second and third buoys came quickly. I was so tempted to check my watch at the turn-around to see my time, but I knew that would only slow me down. I tried to pass some swimmers on the way back, but I stayed at their feet the entire time. I finally got back to the shore at just shy of 48 minutes, about a 4 minute PR.

Coming out of the water, I ran, not because I really cared about getting the fastest transition, but because I really wanted to get to the bathroom! I ran up the stairs to the upper parking lot and fell. I was fine, but I managed to get a small cut on my middle finger. I wriggled out of my wetsuit, headed for the bathroom, and then started pulling what I need out of my transition bag. I noticed that there was blood on everything I touched. That tiny cut on my finger was dripping everywhere. After finding a volunteer with a band-aid, I continued with my transition. I took 1 thermalyte and 2 sportslegs pills and a swig of my perpetuem. It took over 8 minutes for me to finally be out on my bike!

The bike ride was beautiful, as always. Lake San Antonio is an area of just beautiful rolling green hills, and flowers of every color and scent along the way. After about the first mile, I started the first ascent (Heart Rate Hill). I passed a few people, which I knew may have been bad because I was not supposed to go out too hard at first. When I'm climbing, though, it's really hard to not want to "get it over with." After the first climb, there were rolling hills for quite awhile. I started to feel a cramp in my left leg (from my hip flexor down to my ankle) and wondered if I actually needed more electrolyte, so at about 45 minutes into the ride, I took another thermalyte. (Usually I take one an hour, but it was warmer than usual.) I stopped and stretched for a few minutes and got back on my bike. After another 15 minutes or so, the cramp subsided, so I may have been right about the need for electrolytes (and stopping to stretch).

After that, the miles were flying by. I was excited to see my average mile per hour climbing from 14 up to 15. (I knew that it would get lower in the last 15 miles of the ride due to the climbs.) I sipped water often, and exceeded the regular rule of one bottle an hour. I had at least 1 1/2 bottles of water an hour, maybe 2. I was taking a thermalyte about every 45 minutes, and sipping the perpetuem about every 20 minutes. My energy for the whole bike ride felt great, my cramp stayed at bay, and I was loving being out there. Even "Nasty Grade," a hill named not just for it's grade but for it's protection from the cool breezes and openness to the sun, wasn't so nasty. In the final 10 miles or so, I tried to keep my gears a little easier and spin higher to kick out the lactic acid a bit and get ready for the run. At this point, I was joined by several other people who were training for other courses (olympic, sprint) on the spring tri team. One person saw my age written on my calf and asked, "What did you have to do to get that number written on you?" (as though it were a prize?) A few moments later, a women asked me what event I went to in order to get my shirt. (I was wearing my ironteam training shirt.) A third women told me that 22 miles were down, and there were only a few to go. She didn't know that I had just completed about 53 miles of the long course, and I was feeling a little too humble to correct her. I just yelled back, "Yup! We're almost there!"

I was really excited to see that my time on my bike (not counting stopping for water stops, stretching, or using the bathroom 5 times) was 3:59!!! That was a huge PR from last year's time, and I was so excited. I got off my bike, laid it down on the ground, and got my run gear out of my transition bag. I had PRd the swim and the bike, and I was really excited to see what I could do on the run course.



Here is me right before the start of the run. Notice the green hills behind me. Imagine biking through hills like that. You'd be smiling too!



In my mind, I've been going over the following scenario: During the real ironman, I'm going to not have a luxurious amount of time to finish the marathon. My fastest marathon time is 5:18. So, I'm going to have to really have that "mind over matter" fire within me to push through any pain or discomfort I may have and just keep moving forward at a pace that will get me to cross the finish line before the cut-offs. Of course, the wildflower run course, being hilly and hot, would be a great practice for this.

Just before I got started, I headed over to the volunteer table and mixed my perpetuem. I noticed that I was feeling a little nauseas and a little dizzy for some reason, but knowing that I had to practice the whole "keep going no matter what" idea, I started out on the course. I also felt fine on the bike, so I thought this would pass quickly. I was going to do a run/walk combination of 9/1. That was the plan.

I started to run, and with every minute longer I ran, the more nauseas I got. When I stopped, I got even dizzier. I noticed that my ankles were also cramping a bit, and I thought that maybe I needed another thermalyte. I stopped to take it, took some more perpetuem, and chased it with water. Then, I tried again. Huge wave of nausea, and terrible dizziness. Teammate Dan was right by me. I mentioned to him what I was feeling, and he encouraged me to walk until the feeling subsided. I didn't want to walk. I wanted to stick to my 9/1 plan, but he was persistent. "We'll just walk to the first water stop, which is mile 2, and re-assess from there." I agreed. We walked the two miles. I started to feel really emotional, which of course made my asthma kick in, so I took two puffs of my inhaler. I was just bummed to be walking, when it went against my whole plan of practice making the pace you need no matter what.

I had 16 ounces of water by the second water stop, and refilled. I put ice in my shirt and in my hat, and we headed off. We decided to maybe try running a 6/1 interval. Six minutes of running was too much. After about 3, I thought I was going to lose it. We tried several more times, and eventually Dan was really adamant that we needed to walk until the nausea and dizziness subsided. At one point, he even made me stop in the shade. This nearly killed me! I couldn't be mad at him, because he was being so nice to slow down his own run to make sure I was okay, but I just couldn't stand the idea of not moving at all! I was so conflicted. The world was spinning. I felt like my head and teeth were vibrating. I was sure I was going to lose all of the perpetuem I'd taken in so far. And yet, I wanted to run. But, I knew that Dan was right, because every time I tried to run, the sensations I was feeling only got worse. We walked on...

Nearly two hours later, we were at the mile 6 water stop. I saw teammate Jeremiah there. He came up and asked the usual, "What can I get for you?" (water, gatorade, gu, etc.) I just fell into him and said, "a hug!" Then, coach Mike B. came up and chatted with me. I was trying not to cry, so Dan summarized what was going on so far. I was at that water stop for a long time and cooled down a lot. A volunteer covered me in sunscreen and put ice under my hat. Mike asked me about my nutrition so far, and thought that I maybe had too many electrolytes in me, and that I should stick with just water. Dan went ahead with Bindu, and Mike gave me the okay to try to go ahead.

I don't know if it's because I was really feeling better for the rest I had, or if it was because Dan wasn't with me to tell me not to, but I decided that I was at least going to run some of what was next. I ran all the flats and downhills and walked the uphills. I told myself that even if I had to vomit, at least I was making up for some lost time, and practicing that mental toughness. It was a three mile stretch to the next water stop, and I probably ran about 2 and 1/2 miles of it. At the next water stop was Head Coach Mike W. and Bindu's wife, Shanti (who happens to also be a doctor).

They already knew. Maybe from Dan, maybe a phone call from Mike B., but Mike W. already knew what was going on. He asked me to tell him again what I was feeling. I tried so hard to downplay it. He said that if I was just nauseas or dizzy, he could let me go on, but the problem was that even though I had just ran about 2 and 1/2 miles and had just gone a total of 9 miles in over 90 degree weather, I was not sweating at all. My body was totally dry. Shanti took my pulse (actually, I don't remember her doing that, but she told me later that she did and it was low). Mike had me sit in his car with an ice pack under each armpit, and one behind my neck, while sipping water. At the time I thought it was silly to give me ice packs if I wasn't sweating, that I must already be cool enough, but of course in hindsight I understand it.

Shanti explained to me that I had heat exhaustion, and that I was really close to heat stroke. She and Mike convinced me that it was better to not continue the last 4 miles of the race.

I have never had a DNF (did not finish). Granted, this was just a training. This wasn't an official race. The results won't be posted on any website (um, except this one!). I know I could have finished. I did last year. But, still, being driven to the finish line was really hard for me.

The most important thing is for me to learn from this. It's hard, though, to know for sure what went wrong. The general consensus was that I was dehydrated, despite having had more water than I ever have during other trainings, and that I was probably also low on electrolytes. My fingers were also very swollen, which Mike thinks confirms the fact that I was low on salt.

After being driven to the finish, I walked down to the lake, accompanied by Cilla, Brian, Shanti, and Bindu, and stood in there for about 10 minutes. For the next several hours, I was very cold, and the dizziness hadn't gone away. (It sort of felt like I was on a boat and everything around me was swaying.) The nausea came and went in waves throughout the night. The team was dancing and partying and having a great time, and I joined in a bit, but I definitely didn't feel like myself.

In hindsight, I know there was no other option but stopping. Shanti explained that had I continued running, I would have ended up in the hospital. I guess "mind over matter" really only can work if the "matter" isn't something that will hurt you in the end.

I can't help but point out that this ironteam, that is the people who are in it, are amazing. They were so supportive. Everyone, from Dan walking with me 6 miles, to the volunteers at the water stops and Jeremiah, and Coach Mike B. for helping me at mile 6, and of course Coach Mike W. and Shanti for "talking me down from the ledge." Hanging out with everyone that night, I just noticed how awesome and supportive everyone is on this team, and I'm so lucky to be able to be a part of it.