This is not a very easy race report to write, and oh so different than the one I hoped to write when I was training and planning to do my first Olympic distance triathlon. If you don’t want to read the details, skip to the next to the last paragraph for the summary <grin>
For those of you unfamiliar with triathlon, Olympic or International distance means a mile swim, a 26.5 mile bike ride and a 10K (6.2 mile run). I decided in July that I really wanted to move it up a notch and see if I could do this race. I’d read the race reports others had posted, and I knew it was one of the most challenging courses in the state. The lake swim is usually tough, the bike is insanely hilly, and the run starts and ends with a mile in the sand. While I don’t have any great illusions about my athleticism, I do believe I have great drive, endurance, and am good at sticking to a plan of action. Plus, I am a terrific researcher, and so I know how to figure “stuff” out and come up with a plan. I even create SMART goals for myself (Specific, Measureable, Attainable, Realistic, and Time-bound). Can you say type A personality? Of course if you know me, you also know that five years ago it took me 50 minutes to walk one mile and this last year I just got to a place where I could run 3.25 miles in 50 minutes. I am not a nature athlete, but I “plug away” very well. I also figured that I’d done five sprint distance races last year and ten so far this year, it was time to move on
On Saturday the 18th I’d planned a brick workout. I was going to swim 40 minutes in our lake, and then bike from the lake back to the house (20 miles or so). I woke up with a migraine, but figured I would just tough it out. I did the swim, and had to bag the bike ride home. Despite taking medication, and going to the doctor twice, the migraine stayed until Saturday afternoon the 25th about 2 PM. I was glad to see it leave, and I’d already made the 4.5 hour drive from home to Elephant Butte for the packet pick up for the Elephant Man triathlon. I’d done a reasonable job of tapering (light workouts) and I’d done a terrific job of hydrating because I know that is an area of vulnerability for me. Ever since I’ve had RNY surgery, I get dehydrated easily and have to pay great attention to taking in sufficient fluids. After I got my packet, I went to the FCA Team Endurance Prayer & Praise meeting, and that was so wonderful. Some friends from Las Cruces have a house at Elephant Butte, so I met them at the lake and we went back to Marcy Oxford’s house to cook dinner.
Marcy brought with her, Jeffery (her son and Business Major at NMSU and on the NMSU triathlon team), Peanut (Jeffery’s friend, NMSU triathlon team member, and a Chemical Engineering major) and Terry (special education teacher and high school swim coach). Jeffery was hoping to place in the Collegiate category (almost but not quite), Peanut was hoping to win in his age group, the highly competitive 20-25 (he was a medal winner), and Terry was hoping for overall female winner (ultimately she got third overall female). Marcy was not doing Elephant Man, and I was hoping to finish my first Olympic distance race. Marcy cooked spaghetti and homemade bread, and I’d fixed some chocolate chip cookies the night before; with the pecan pie Marcy fixed, everyone was certainly carb-loaded for the next day. I have to be careful what types of carbohydrates (complex only) so we even had whole wheat spaghetti noodles and I just passed on the bread and dessert.
While the boys did the dishes, Marcy took me on a tour of the bike route. It was hilly, but I thought it looked pretty doable. The second half looked wonderful since it was flat for a good distance with just enough rolling hills to be fun and then some screaming fast down hills that would make the trip back to town a blast. I’d scoped out the swim route, a triangle that afternoon at packet pickup, and it looked like it would be okay too. I felt lots of my anxiety about the race just dissolve. We ran by Walmart in Truth or Consequences on the way back to the house to pick up some yogurt (I love Greek yogurt for a prerace breakfast) and to get Jeffery some tennis shoes. He’d forgotten his running shoes, and there were a pair that was a size too large at the house, but we thought we could see what they had at Walmart. Let me tell you, the selection is not so great at Walmart. They had the Dr. Scholls with Velcro closures (bright white), little old man slip on white shoes, some high top Converse knock offs, and some trainers of unknown brand that felt light….. I voted for the Converse knock-off figuring that he could start a new triathlon trend J Marcy got him the unknown brand. Ultimately, he wore the size too large pair at the house and did just fine.
We got back to the house and everyone was in bed by nine. Boy, do we know how to have a triathlon slumber party or what? I was asleep before Marcy could even get back to the room we were sharing after washing her face, so no chatting in the dark even. Great night’s sleep for everyone and some great coffee with your choice of bread with peanut butter (Jeffery), bagel with cream cheese (Peanut), and bagel with peanut butter (Terry). Of course bananas all around since every triathlete I know eats a banana. I like my coffee cold on race day, so I put it over ice in a water bottle. I’d also frozen four 10 oz bottles of G2 to put in my waist hydration pack for the run and had two frozen bottles for the bike. One was Perpetum and one was G2. I put the little flasks in the belt and then put the whole deal into an ice chest so it would still be cool when I got ready to do the run. Since the City of Santa Fe Triathlon I’ve done tons of personal research weighing myself pre- and post-exercise, tracking fluid intake and excretion, etc. to determine my sweat rate and such to make sure I have a great idea about how much fluid I need per hour when I am working hard. In warm weather I have to make sure I take in 35-40 ounces per hour. Failing to do that means I end up with all of the typical dehydration symptoms: dizziness, nausea, headache, difficulty with cognitive function (I can’t do multiplication or division in my head) and vomiting.
I was ready to head out by 6:30, so off to the transition area. It was a beautiful morning, and I was able to rack near some of the Team Endurance folks, and not too far from Jeffery and Peanut. We shared around the sunscreen, visited with folks, checked out our bikes, made a foray to the port-a-potties, took photos, and in general tried to keep the excitement at a reasonable level. At 7:30 the pre-race meeting started, and I snuck off for one more visit to the port-a-potty. Then the prayer and singing the national anthem. I love it when I am in a group and we all join in a prayer and in the singing our national anthem. Then we were off to the water. I was supremely happy because for the first time in my triathlon experience, I was in the first wave. For some reason the women got to go first. I was not racing as an Athena, and that was a good choice because they were in the last wave. There were 369 folks in this race. Our wave took off at 8:20.
I was able to do the freestyle pretty well for the first ½ of the first leg of the triangular course. Then the second wave overtook me and I panicked. These were the men, and this was the first time I’d been in that maelstrom of action. It scared me a lot. I’ve heard folks talk about it, but I’ve never felt that sort of terror in my regular life. I had to stop and just tread water until they got past me. Then I was able to swim and about the first turn buoy I was swept over again by the third wave. That threw me into a tail spin once again. I tried to get to a kayak person to hang on until the frenzy was past, but I kept getting knocked around. By now the waves were picking up and until Sunday I had no experience with swimming in waves. I don’t know what to tell you. I had no skills, and it was like every stroke I took had to be done three times to make one stroke worth of progress. Ultimately I ended up doing the breast stroke so I could try to swim under each wave, take a breath in the trough between waves, and then go under the next wave. I don’t’ know if it was a strategy that was a good one, but at that point I’d been in the water for about 50 minutes, and I was getting scared that I would not finish. I made it to the second buoy, and asked the kayak person, “Is this an equilateral triangle?”
He responded, “Huh?”
I asked, “Is this the shortest leg of the triangle?”
He answered, “Yes, you can make it.”
I told him, “Thank you so much for telling me that. Whether it is true or not, I REALLY appreciate it. I need the encouragement about now.”
I could not freestyle, side stroke and the breast stroke was not taking me to the shore, all I could do was the back broad stroke. It was so hard to maintain a straight path. I asked one of the kayakers if they would tell me if I needed to change course, and bless their hearts, they were willing to guide me. About this time I began to cry. I just didn’t know how I could finish. I was praying and reminding myself that I could do all things through Christ who strengthens me, and I was bawling into my goggles. I finally staggered out of the water an hour and 40 minutes after I went in. I was so sick to my stomach I could barely breathe. The nausea and dizziness were pretty bad, so I knew I was short on fluid. I figured I could try to make it up on the bike. I’d never gone more than sixty minutes without drinking anything, so 100 minutes without fluid was new territory. This was not a situation I’d practiced and I was not sure how to respond. Marcy was there at transition and she reminded me that there was no shame in a DNF (Did Not Finish) but I really didn’t want to give up.
I got out of the wet suit and into my bike gear and headed up the boat ramp out of the state park. The first ½ of the course is pretty hilly. I was grimly sick to my stomach, but I thought I could get better if I got some calories and some fluid down, so I drank on my Perpetum bottle. I thought that maybe if I could get two bottles of fluid down by the 10 mile water station I might be able to get ahead of the dehydration from the lake adventure. Along the way there was a Sheriff deputy stopping traffic for me, the very last person out of transition, and a woman got out of her car and saluted me with her hand over her heart. That touched me to my core and I began to cry again. Part of me knew that I was not doing all that well, but I kept thinking that I might get ahead on the fluids and be okay. I kept cranking up the hills, drinking and trying not to notice that the heat was climbing and the wind was still pretty apparent. I’ve definitely ridden in windier weather, but it was not a calm day. I guess that would be evident by the waves we all struggled with in the swim. I’d only managed to finish about 25 ounces by the time I got to the 10 mile water station, and my pace was way off normal. Even with the hills I expected to do better than nine miles an hour. Before I went to do this triathlon, I’d told family and friends, “Hey, don’t worry, I know the symptoms of dehydration and I will do some self-checks. When I can’t do simple multiplication and division in my head, I will know to ask for help.” Well, that moment had arrived. I was past mile 12 and headed toward mile 13 and the last of the hills. After this it would be a nice patch of flat and then some great hills to fly down and a great screaming return to the transition area. I was going up the hill into the Monticello area, and I could not remember what 3 x 3 was. I could remember how it was supposed to work, that multiplication was serial addition. I kept thinking, “I just have to add 3 + 3 + 3 and I can keep going,” but I could not do it. I kept thinking that I should be able to do it on my fingers, but I could not do it. I got to the top of the hill, tears began to fall, and I told the sag wagon folks, “You need to help me. I think I’ve got some heat exhaustion and some dehydration.”
I don’t really remember the ride back to town. They kept waking me up and telling me to talk to them and asking if I was cooling off. I think I just kept telling them, “Uh huh, I’m OK. Yeah, cooler is good.” I think I was not my usual witty, sparkling conversational self. We got back to the marina and I remember being really worried about my bike, but they reassured me they would take care of it for me. The ambulance folks were there and they asked me if I could walk, and I said, “Sure, just let me think about it.” I got to the ambulance and once again had to give serious consideration to how to step up into the ambulance. They asked me my name, and I could give them that, we moved on to harder questions.
“Do you have any medical conditions?”
“Yes. Give me a minute and I will remember,” I responded, “Yeah, I have asthma and something else, but it isn’t coming to me right now.”
“Okay, what is your birthday?”
“September,” I responded with some confidence.
“What day?” he asked.
That was a bit trickier, but it came to me, “The tenth.”
“What year? Would it be okay if we gave you some fluids?”
“Oh yes,” to the fluids. Where were they coming up with these tough questions? “I know I am 51,” I told them, “Because I can see it on my leg.” About that time I remembered I had on my Road ID. “Do you want my Road ID?”
“No, we don’t need it unless you start getting questions wrong,” he answered. I didn’t get it at the time, but they already had my registration form and information from the race organizer. They were just trying to see how far gone I was. About this time the first ambulance guy, Matt, apologized because he had to stick me twice because I was so dehydrated that he could not get into my veins. “You have fine veins; it is jus t that you are so dehydrated it is hard. “
After they got about ½ a bag into me, I felt like a human being again, and they asked who they could contact for me. I suggested they contact Marcy. “Do you know her number?” they asked.
“No, and not because I am loopy, but just because I don’t know anyone’s number anymore; I count on the cell phone to remember for me. You can probably get a hold of Marcy through Jeffery, her son. He is #269 in the race (I was 69, and we’d joked about that the day before),” I explained. So they called Jeffery and he texted Marcy and came to the ambulance. I asked him, “So is the mocking starting now?” and he told be absolutely; that not even an ambulance was a mock-free zone.
I finished up the fluids, thanked the gentlemen, and then Jeffery and Marcy helped me gathered my stuff and headed back to Marcy’s for a shower. When I got there I realized that I had at some point cut my foot and taken a hunk out of my big toe and the ball of my foot. I guess it was getting into/out of the water. I only noticed it because my sock was stuck to the gross mess that was on the bottom of my foot. It never hurt, and I am so thankful for that. I got cleaned up and then realized that I had to go back to the race site since I forgot to turn in my timing chip. When I got there, the race director was very encouraging and told me that I should not be down about DNFing. She said the water was the roughest they’d ever had and that six folks had to be pulled out of the water, more than any other year.
So I drove home, 256 miles, feeling like a capital looser. I was having a pretty big pity party about how lame I was and how I should have kept going, and then I reminded myself that I did exactly what I’d planned on doing. I knew going in that I am fragile in the fluid retention area. I made a plan that was sane and sensible. I worked that plan and implemented it really well. I got help when I needed to get help. I learned some really valuable stuff.
- One thing I learned is that I can swim for an hour and forty minutes. Until yesterday, I would not have known that.
- I also learned that I CAN do the hilliest, hardest part of the bike route at Elephant Man, and I can do it when I am not feeling well at all.
- I also learned that I need to figure out how to be a better swimmer. I am not sure how I am going to address that living in a town with no pool, but I know I need to acquire this skill.
- I also learned that my friends and family love me and not because of anything one way or another.
- I really think I learned that trying may matter more than succeeding. I know succeeding feels better than trying and failing, but I think that being willing to take risks is important. I am not sure where I forgot that little piece.
- I am not certain why DNF seemed so shameful, but I do know that while I still wish I’d been able to finish, I would never trade trying and failing for not trying. You know how magical that epiphany can be when you have it? Well, I think I may be internalizing that lesson right now. It is going to take a while for me not to feel like I have LOSER tattooed on my forehead, but instead I have COURAGEOUS tattooed on my heart.
With my apologies for the length,
Patricia
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