This year has been a roller coaster for sure, and the twists and turns keep coming. It's been wild, but thrilling! I just got some exciting news....I'm pregnant!! JUST KIDDING!!!!
Seriously, between the two of us, we are now a happily blended family of six kids, four dogs, and a cat....there will be no more additions to our clan, two or four legged. Bikes however, is another story.
No, my news is that my doctors have decided to stop my decompression treatments. The last two times I've wound up with more pain from the table than I did going in, and that means my body is resisting it. So for now, we are going to see if that means I've healed enough to graduate.
A lot of mixed feelings. On one hand, since I have been in less pain and basically can do my regular life without too many modifications, I'm ecstatic. On the other hand, it's kinda of like letting go of the side of the pool in the deep end for the first time - am I really ready for this? Will I get injured again without it? It's kind of become my safety line.
It's been nine months since that day at the pool when I became afraid to get in knowing how much pain I would be in. This whole time has been a process for me, because for the first time in my life, I couldn't will myself through something. I had to stop, and listen, and wait. Very un-Lori like.
We are about to start training for the CHOO 70.3 in May. Most likely going to meet my new coach next week. It's going to be easier to be coached by the same person, but Michael and I are starting from very different places, so it will be a while before we actually get to train together. Motivation for me, I love to chase the rabbits :)
So what have I learned form all this? If I'm going to work my body like a machine, I need to treat it like one, which means clean fuel and regular maintenance. No more thinking the pain will go away on its own. I remember coming off the bike in IMTX and knowing something was really wrong with my back, but waited until I couldn't bring myself to train anymore to actually get it checked out. Yes, it was a moronic thing to do.
I've learned that it is not a sign of weakness to accept help from others. I was raised to be very independent, but there have to be limits. Asking for help has been a hard lesson too, but slowly but surely, I'm doing better at that too. Michael just flat out refused to allow me to lift, carry or move in ways that could be bad for my recovery. I remember when he said to me he would rather see me take care now than be in a wheelchair when we had grandchildren. He's been so great, loving me through my cranky and frustrated days, and helping me see what improvements I've made.
Your heart, mind and body work as a cohesive unit, and if one is off, the other two can only compensate so long. I thought that my focus was my greatest strength, and it is a strength. My mistake was thinking it overrode the other two. My injury showed me that in this case, it was my weakness, and I'm hoping through all of this I will become a better balanced athlete.
Next year will be another big year, a half and full Ironman in the works. I'm taking training one day at a time, and finding that balance between pushing the limits to make gains, but not crossing too far over the line to cause injury.
Someday, I will look back on all of this as a foggy memory. I hope not to forget the lessons I learned.Someday, I want to qualify for Kona, I might be 80 at the time, but hey, I'll take it!
Saturday, November 21, 2015
Monday, July 6, 2015
Back in the Saddle
I'mmmmmm baaaaaaack!
The last few months have been a blur, but now that I'm getting back on track physically, it's time to revive the blog.
A few months ago I posted about my back not feeling right. That was probably the greatest understatement I've ever made.A herniated disc, two bulging discs, misalignment, nerve spasms over 1000%...fun for the whole family. I have to be honest, I was actually kind of relived at the diagnosis. I knew my back hurt, but through January and February I was training anyway, under the delusional belief that I could therapy my way through this one like I had with previous injuries. It was just a case of mind over matter, right? Ummm, no.
February came, and I couldn't push my body past 50 miles on the bike. It just stopped. Runs ended at about six miles, and while I could still do the 3000-4000 m swims, I paid for it. At that point I thought I just wasn't mentally strong enough to push myself through. My body wasn't listening to me. I was supposed to do the Half Marathon in Pharr in February, but woke up that morning and knew that just wasn't going to happen. I had seen Sandy Overly the day before at packet pickup, and she suggested Martin Chiropractic. I will always be grateful. The next night was a swim night, and I found myself sitting by the side of the pool, talking to Michael and saying something I never thought I'd hear myself say. I was afraid to get in the pool. Afraid.
Over the past two years, I had gotten a small sense that I was impervious. I asked my body to do these hard workouts and train like a madman, and it did it. Injuries came and went, but with therapy, my body just kept going. After IMFL, I was riding pretty high that this was going to be a great year. Now I sat by the side of the pool, dreading getting into the water, because deep down I knew I wasn't impervious. Something was seriously wrong. So I went home, and the next day, walked across the street (I had probably seen the sign a million times) and made my first appointment.
Getting the news put me in shock. I dabbled in denial for a few weeks, but reality finally set in. My year was gone. I was broken, and this wasn't something I could could stubborn my way through. It shook me, because that was kind of my survival instinct, just keep pushing ahead. Now I couldn't do that. I felt lost in this new territory. Selling the house made recovery harder, and I'm so grateful to those that came out to help me get things ready, you really were lifesavers. Even still, old Lori did too much, and wound up on the couch for two weeks.
When you have that much time to think, things become real clear real fast, and thank goodness for Netflix because otherwise Jerry Springer and I would be on a first name basis. Ironman life as I had known it was over. If (because at that time I dealt with ifs) I could heal and get back, did I want to? There were many reasons why I started this journey, and many of those reasons had seen fruition with the races I had done. Maybe it was time for a new, less taxing hobby? I could be Michael's Sherpa, do smaller distance races, join a dance class, do weights...
I'm glad for that dark time now. It helped show me that Ironman isn't what I do, it's who I am. I remember being 18 years old, and dreaming of Ironman. There were a couple of people who scoffed at me then because I couldn't run, and had DNF'ed my last Olympic distance. But I'm not that person anymore. I'm not the person I was a year ago. Accepting that I am an Iron distance triathlete helped me accept that I would have to rest....a lot. And the way I trained doesn't work for me anymore. It also changed my why, and I think it will make me a stronger, better racer because this why has no expiration.
Michael and Gina helped me so much. Gina would send me encouraging messages, and let me vent when I needed to. Michael was and still is my rock. Knowing Galveston was coming up, he arranged (with doctor approval) for me to come to Georgia so I wouldn't have to be alone thinking about it. As excited as I was for how awesome my friends did, I cried. I admit it. I felt like I had failed not showing up race day. Michael has been amazing through this whole process, encouraging me to rest, keeping my spirits up, helping me with whatever I need...I'm very very blessed.
But what happens to someone who can't exercise? No matter how I restricted my diet, the weight slowly crept up. And during my dark time, I gave up on even trying to restrict the diet. So now, I'm almost back where I was when I started this journey weight wise. UGH!
A couple of weeks ago, I was cleared to start light training again. Weights and strength training and now a daily part of my life....forever. The birth defects found during my medical tests mean that I will always need to have a strong core, or else my back will deteriorate. Which is perfectly okay with me, because I actually enjoy weights.
My first day at the gym was comedic to say the least. Here are all these people lifting their 50-120 pound weights.....and then there's Lori, limited to ten pounds....wheeee. Nevertheless, I was happy to be back. Biking has been going well, I'm up to 35 mins steady, all trainer work. Once I hit an hour, I'm planning on joining the Turtles in my area's cycling group (I didn't name them, but will be thrilled to ride with them). The hills here are no joke, and I want to rebuild right.
I swam for the first time back last week. I was a little scared about it since this is the one exercise that involves some twisting and that could trigger my back. It was, to say the least...magical. I felt like I had come home, and wanted to keep going.
I'm learning my body in a whole new way now, sometimes I think Michael laughs at me because I will get this look of concentration on my face as my body and I are "talking". Every time I get down, I think about where I was four months ago, when walking through HEB made me cry in pain. Or where I was a month ago, when folding laundry meant an hour on the couch with an ice pack. Daily life is almost normal now with some adjustments, and I have Helicopter Michael to make sure I don't push myself too hard. We go for walks often, and the scenery here is so beautiful, and the hills work those glutes!
It hasn't be fun doing these things with the little voice in the back of my head telling me where I used to be. I struggle with that a lot. Lifting 10 pounds when I used to lift 40, swimming 500 m when that wasn't even my warm up before, dealing with the concept that when I start trying to run again at the end of the month, I will be lucky to get a mile in using the run/walk method. The mental regrowth is almost harder than the physical.
Don't get me wrong, this is no pity party. I know that I will get stronger, and like both Martin Sr. and Jr told me, "If you trained liked you did all last year while broken, imagine what you can do hitting the starting line healthy."
I thought about not starting the blog back up, because I didn't want to admit how far back I've gone, or open up about the emotional struggles that go with it. On one of our walks, Michael told me that maybe it might help someone going through something similar, and I hope it does. I'm hoping that someone facing a rebuilding process like this can find some company here, or I can be a word of caution to those who may be putting off getting that pain checked out.
I really needed something to focus on to keep myself motivated, so Michael found a micro sprint in October. The great thing is that they have all the distances at the same race, so he will be doing the 70.3. 200m swim, 9 mile bike, 1 mile run....back to basics. In some ways I think I will feel more elated to cross that finish line than I was at Florida or Texas Ironman. Looking ahead, the plan is for us to do Chattanooga 70.3 next May, and 140.6 next September.
In the meantime, all of us are adjusting to the new life here in Georgia. We are working on Michael's dog Buzz to not see Lady as the agent of evil that must be destroyed (Buzz is okay with the boys, but Lady is another story altogether), and the dogs are loving having more people in their pack with Michael's wonderful kids, meaning more attention, more belly rubs, more people to sleep with and more treats thrown their way. The version of doggie paradise.
Setbacks are going to happen, sometimes they will be a small jump back, and sometimes they are wipe outs to your foundation. While I struggle with what was lost, I'm excited about what I'm gaining - a new found knowledge and understanding of my body, and being able to rebuild it right. Soon, this time will be a laughable memory, but the new path will make me stronger and take me farther than before....I'm all for that! Mike Reilly, here I come!
The last few months have been a blur, but now that I'm getting back on track physically, it's time to revive the blog.
A few months ago I posted about my back not feeling right. That was probably the greatest understatement I've ever made.A herniated disc, two bulging discs, misalignment, nerve spasms over 1000%...fun for the whole family. I have to be honest, I was actually kind of relived at the diagnosis. I knew my back hurt, but through January and February I was training anyway, under the delusional belief that I could therapy my way through this one like I had with previous injuries. It was just a case of mind over matter, right? Ummm, no.
February came, and I couldn't push my body past 50 miles on the bike. It just stopped. Runs ended at about six miles, and while I could still do the 3000-4000 m swims, I paid for it. At that point I thought I just wasn't mentally strong enough to push myself through. My body wasn't listening to me. I was supposed to do the Half Marathon in Pharr in February, but woke up that morning and knew that just wasn't going to happen. I had seen Sandy Overly the day before at packet pickup, and she suggested Martin Chiropractic. I will always be grateful. The next night was a swim night, and I found myself sitting by the side of the pool, talking to Michael and saying something I never thought I'd hear myself say. I was afraid to get in the pool. Afraid.
Over the past two years, I had gotten a small sense that I was impervious. I asked my body to do these hard workouts and train like a madman, and it did it. Injuries came and went, but with therapy, my body just kept going. After IMFL, I was riding pretty high that this was going to be a great year. Now I sat by the side of the pool, dreading getting into the water, because deep down I knew I wasn't impervious. Something was seriously wrong. So I went home, and the next day, walked across the street (I had probably seen the sign a million times) and made my first appointment.
Getting the news put me in shock. I dabbled in denial for a few weeks, but reality finally set in. My year was gone. I was broken, and this wasn't something I could could stubborn my way through. It shook me, because that was kind of my survival instinct, just keep pushing ahead. Now I couldn't do that. I felt lost in this new territory. Selling the house made recovery harder, and I'm so grateful to those that came out to help me get things ready, you really were lifesavers. Even still, old Lori did too much, and wound up on the couch for two weeks.
When you have that much time to think, things become real clear real fast, and thank goodness for Netflix because otherwise Jerry Springer and I would be on a first name basis. Ironman life as I had known it was over. If (because at that time I dealt with ifs) I could heal and get back, did I want to? There were many reasons why I started this journey, and many of those reasons had seen fruition with the races I had done. Maybe it was time for a new, less taxing hobby? I could be Michael's Sherpa, do smaller distance races, join a dance class, do weights...
I'm glad for that dark time now. It helped show me that Ironman isn't what I do, it's who I am. I remember being 18 years old, and dreaming of Ironman. There were a couple of people who scoffed at me then because I couldn't run, and had DNF'ed my last Olympic distance. But I'm not that person anymore. I'm not the person I was a year ago. Accepting that I am an Iron distance triathlete helped me accept that I would have to rest....a lot. And the way I trained doesn't work for me anymore. It also changed my why, and I think it will make me a stronger, better racer because this why has no expiration.
Michael and Gina helped me so much. Gina would send me encouraging messages, and let me vent when I needed to. Michael was and still is my rock. Knowing Galveston was coming up, he arranged (with doctor approval) for me to come to Georgia so I wouldn't have to be alone thinking about it. As excited as I was for how awesome my friends did, I cried. I admit it. I felt like I had failed not showing up race day. Michael has been amazing through this whole process, encouraging me to rest, keeping my spirits up, helping me with whatever I need...I'm very very blessed.
But what happens to someone who can't exercise? No matter how I restricted my diet, the weight slowly crept up. And during my dark time, I gave up on even trying to restrict the diet. So now, I'm almost back where I was when I started this journey weight wise. UGH!
A couple of weeks ago, I was cleared to start light training again. Weights and strength training and now a daily part of my life....forever. The birth defects found during my medical tests mean that I will always need to have a strong core, or else my back will deteriorate. Which is perfectly okay with me, because I actually enjoy weights.
My first day at the gym was comedic to say the least. Here are all these people lifting their 50-120 pound weights.....and then there's Lori, limited to ten pounds....wheeee. Nevertheless, I was happy to be back. Biking has been going well, I'm up to 35 mins steady, all trainer work. Once I hit an hour, I'm planning on joining the Turtles in my area's cycling group (I didn't name them, but will be thrilled to ride with them). The hills here are no joke, and I want to rebuild right.
I swam for the first time back last week. I was a little scared about it since this is the one exercise that involves some twisting and that could trigger my back. It was, to say the least...magical. I felt like I had come home, and wanted to keep going.
I'm learning my body in a whole new way now, sometimes I think Michael laughs at me because I will get this look of concentration on my face as my body and I are "talking". Every time I get down, I think about where I was four months ago, when walking through HEB made me cry in pain. Or where I was a month ago, when folding laundry meant an hour on the couch with an ice pack. Daily life is almost normal now with some adjustments, and I have Helicopter Michael to make sure I don't push myself too hard. We go for walks often, and the scenery here is so beautiful, and the hills work those glutes!
It hasn't be fun doing these things with the little voice in the back of my head telling me where I used to be. I struggle with that a lot. Lifting 10 pounds when I used to lift 40, swimming 500 m when that wasn't even my warm up before, dealing with the concept that when I start trying to run again at the end of the month, I will be lucky to get a mile in using the run/walk method. The mental regrowth is almost harder than the physical.
Don't get me wrong, this is no pity party. I know that I will get stronger, and like both Martin Sr. and Jr told me, "If you trained liked you did all last year while broken, imagine what you can do hitting the starting line healthy."
I thought about not starting the blog back up, because I didn't want to admit how far back I've gone, or open up about the emotional struggles that go with it. On one of our walks, Michael told me that maybe it might help someone going through something similar, and I hope it does. I'm hoping that someone facing a rebuilding process like this can find some company here, or I can be a word of caution to those who may be putting off getting that pain checked out.
I really needed something to focus on to keep myself motivated, so Michael found a micro sprint in October. The great thing is that they have all the distances at the same race, so he will be doing the 70.3. 200m swim, 9 mile bike, 1 mile run....back to basics. In some ways I think I will feel more elated to cross that finish line than I was at Florida or Texas Ironman. Looking ahead, the plan is for us to do Chattanooga 70.3 next May, and 140.6 next September.
In the meantime, all of us are adjusting to the new life here in Georgia. We are working on Michael's dog Buzz to not see Lady as the agent of evil that must be destroyed (Buzz is okay with the boys, but Lady is another story altogether), and the dogs are loving having more people in their pack with Michael's wonderful kids, meaning more attention, more belly rubs, more people to sleep with and more treats thrown their way. The version of doggie paradise.
Setbacks are going to happen, sometimes they will be a small jump back, and sometimes they are wipe outs to your foundation. While I struggle with what was lost, I'm excited about what I'm gaining - a new found knowledge and understanding of my body, and being able to rebuild it right. Soon, this time will be a laughable memory, but the new path will make me stronger and take me farther than before....I'm all for that! Mike Reilly, here I come!
Friday, January 9, 2015
Let's Build a Snowman
Phew! 2014 is done, and what a crazy year that was! Looking back, the year was a roller coaster of highs and lows, but in the end....what a ride!
I never did do a Florida race report, so here it is - it was COLD and WINDY!! Seriously though, the few days leading up to the race, we all anxiously looked at the weather. Sure, it was in the 70's right then, but the weather reports kept making race day colder and colder. Having lived in the Valley so long, I didn't have any true cold weather gear, but upon Michael's suggestion, I did pack some tights and a long sleeved shirt. I had no idea what a lifesaver he was.
The day before the race, I did a practice open water swim. Oh my gosh! It was amazing to be able to see to the bottom, and as I was happily swimming along, a stingray nonchalantly swam under me...it was SO cool! I had a great swim, was super excited about the idea of swimming in clear water and was generally pretty stoked about the next day. Since it was my second Ironman, the nerves were different. The first time, there was a long of anxiety about not finishing. This time, I knew I could do the distance, so my fears were more along the lines of avoiding the injuries I sustained in Houston. Also, since I had displaced my SI joint in IMTX but didn't know about it till July, there was a little nagging in my mind that Joey's magic hadn't had enough time to work. Michael and I also had a friendly bet going, so I had a goal time in mind.
The day of the race dawned, and as soon as I checked the weather, my heart dropped. The cold front had come in overnight, and it was a very chilly 39 degrees. Now my big concern was being too cold after coming out of the water. I would have to take extra time in T1 to make sure I was as dry as possible before getting on the bike. As we got to the race area, there was a lot of speculation about the swim. I got my bike ready as fast as my frozen fingers could go, and then we headed into the hotel lobby to get my wetsuit on. They made the call to get out to the beach, and we all went out like lambs to slaughter, silently following each other. Being as vertically challenged as I am, I couldn't even see the water when we got to the beach, and the press of bodies was freaking me out, so we moved to the side.
My first look at the water banished any other thoughts from my mind. The surf was a blender, and the sherriff's boat got tossed around like a feather in a strong wind. Believe it or not, while other people were talking about how they hoped the swim got cancelled, I was plotting what technique to use in the waves. About ten seconds later the announcement came: no swim. Three thousand enthusiastic cheers went up, and about a hundred of us groaned (I was one of those). I love the swim, the swim is my friend, and like many others, felt like it wasn't a real Ironman without all three portions.
We were going to be seeded out on the bike, and all sat there shivering while we waited for our row to be called. Many had not packed extra nutrition, so they started to get very hungry as the hours went by. I did, and went to hide in a corner to eat so that I wouldn't get attacked by the other racers. Finally, it was our turn. Imagine the Ironman swim start, bodies everywhere, trying to find some room to move. Now add bikes and bad tempers. That was the first 30 - 40 miles of the bike. Nobody was happy with the wait, and many of the first timers now saw this as a bike tour, so they rode (poorly) as groups of fifteen to twenty. Since the wind ranged from 18-26 mph, and we had only warmed up to 42 degrees, it took about that first thirty for me to stop finding ways of quitting and thinking about being back at the hotel with my parents and Michael with a nice warm cup of hot chocolate. Finally, my competitive spirit kicked in, and those thoughts left, and my training took over.
In the middle of the bike we were directed over 12 miles of the worst road conditions ever. Large cracks in the road every ten feet or so made your bike go ca dunk ca dunk ca dunk. I was worried about busting a tire when suddenly my handlebars fell forward. Yes, the entire handlebar rack had come loose from the stem because of the bumping. I hauled them back in place, and tucked over the horns, holding the bars in place until Special needs a few miles up the road. There, I tightened them up quickly, and didn't really lose any time. A few miles later there was a collective sigh of relief as we turned off that road. You could tell who the newbies were, they stopped on the road, in the middle of turns, swerved all over the road. I was amazed we didn't have more crashes then we did. At that point we had a long stretch till we had a tailwind, so I just tucked in, sung to myself, and made sure I took my nutrition on time.
Nothing of note happened until mile 90. Then I started having some trouble steering. Looking down, I didn't see a flat on my front, so I stopped and checked for a back flat. Nope, all was good. A few more miles, and I really started having trouble. Now I thought it was my shoulder, that maybe I had pulled something. Finally, I got off my bike to make an overall check. My front tire was flat, I guess from the angle I couldn't see it before, or it was a slow leak. I had never had a front flat before, but I laughed thinking about how I had thought it was my shoulder! Somehow the tire had sealed itself to the rim, and I could hear the minutes ticking by as I wrestled my wheel. And I literally mean wrestled. A guy passed by and said, "are you okay?" to which I mournfully yelled "NO". I personally would have left the crazy lady behind but he took pity on me and became my angel. It even took him a few tries, but he got the tire off for me. I quickly changed the rest and got back on the road.
Coming into T2, I was concerned that riding that flat for so long would hurt my run. Nothing could be done about it, so I went out on the run with my plan - run race pace until I couldn't and then run intervals after that till the end. Amazingly as I came out, I ran into Lou Hollander, an 80+ year old who has been doing Ironman basically forever. It was a great way to start the run! I came through the chute, and there were my parents, cheering away. Well, my mom was cheering, my dad is a little too stoic for that, but hey, he was smiling! A few yards up, Michael was waiting for me. He had volunteered at Run Special Needs so he could be sure to see me. A hug and I was off. I felt good, keeping race pace was easy, but I knew better than to trust it. The run on the Ironman can eat you up and spit you out. The crowd dynamic was amazing, people out in Speedos in the cold, signs everywhere, music blasting and hula hoop girls twirling. My friend Paula was riding her bike along the course so she could keep track of a few of us, and it was nice to chat with her for a bit.
There was a portion in the run that went through a park, that was pretty lonely - no crowds and everyone was trying to find a way to keep warm as the temperature started dropping again. With the wind for 6.5 miles, then turn back into it, and the wind had not calmed down at all. I had decided to run with a handheld with a twist. I used a bottle I didn't mind tossing so I could have finisher pics without it. It worked really well, and my first loop went without a hitch. I was very happy as I came into Special Needs, knowing Michael would be waiting for me. And there he was, surfer hair and all, with a big grin on his face as he held out my bag to help me with whatever I needed. I felt so good that I just got more nutrition, took off my pack, gave him a kiss and off I went. He asked me how much longer I was going to run until I started intervals, and I said until I felt I couldn't run anymore. Rounding the turn back onto the course for my second loop, I sent out a silent prayer: if God would give me the strength to run the whole thing, I wouldn't give in to the mental tiredness and stop running. Darkness fell and it was very quiet out on the course between stations. More and more people were walking and shivering. I kept running....mile 14, then 17, then 20. As I hit the turnaround point for the final time, I really began to own the idea that I could run the whole marathon. At mile 24 I hit the wall, and my mind went pfffffft. I wanted to walk, I was cold, it was no longer any fun, and who's stupid idea was this anyway??? Still, I did the quick math, and two miles of running would get me to that finish line and warmth WAY faster than walking. Going by Special Needs again, Michael was still there. He had decided to stay to help out after his shift so that he could see me at the end. He ran with me for a little bit, then branched off as I entered the chute. I had finished another Ironman, 12:17, so even if I had the swim I had in Houston, (which would have upset me but hey) I would have done the full distance in under 14 hours, a full hour and a half faster. The finishers area is kind of a blur, getting to the car is a blur, and my mind shut down all external thoughts, choosing only to focus on immediate needs - food and warmth.
Sure enough, the next day brought back the sunshine and the warmth. Michael and I walked the beach and I was stunned how different it was the day before. Each race leaves its own mark. People have asked me if I will do Florida again. My answer is maybe, but not for a long time. I do feel like there is some unfinished business there, but it can wait.
I have spent a lot of time during my recovery thinking about how I got here. There were a lot of people who helped along the way, all recruits in Lori's Army, as Gina says. I thank all of you for your support, kind words, helpful advice, and even criticisms. Nothing like some bad comments to make you want to prove people wrong :)
So what now? 2015 is proving to be even a bigger challenge in may ways. First, I completely went off the deep end and signed up for IM Placid with German and Roger. I still have "what were you thinking?" moments. The bike profile gives me nightmares.
Hannah will graduate this year, and that also gives me nightmares. She grew up too fast, and while I tend to be a little stoic like my father when it comes to mushy stuff, I will bawl like a baby when it comes time to let her go. I'm also excited for her, a new phase in her life, and new adventures. It's an exciting time for her, and I am so very proud of my little girl.
Meeting Michael was not something I expected. I had enough of the relationship missteps I had gone through over the last couple of years, and had thought I would stay out of dating till Hannah graduated. Famous last words. A week later, he and I met, and the rest just fell together. Many of you already know this, but I have decided that at the end of this school year, I will be moving out to Georgia to be with Michael, his wonderful family and amazing friends. While I am very sad to be leaving all the incredible people I have met here, this has never really felt like home to me, and it's time for me to start some new adventures of my own. Since Michael is also an Ironman, I'm sure that will include many more races in the future.
This Ironman journey has had more twists and turns than a Spanish Novella, but it's not over yet. Right before my birthday, I got really sick and spent a few days in bed. For some weird reason, my back locked from laying down so long. So it's back to therapy. I'm kind of encouraged though, every time Joey works his magic on me, I wind up being faster!
May 2015 be a wonderful year for you all. May you reach the goals you have set for yourself and surprise yourself by reaching ones you didn't think you could!
I never did do a Florida race report, so here it is - it was COLD and WINDY!! Seriously though, the few days leading up to the race, we all anxiously looked at the weather. Sure, it was in the 70's right then, but the weather reports kept making race day colder and colder. Having lived in the Valley so long, I didn't have any true cold weather gear, but upon Michael's suggestion, I did pack some tights and a long sleeved shirt. I had no idea what a lifesaver he was.
The day before the race, I did a practice open water swim. Oh my gosh! It was amazing to be able to see to the bottom, and as I was happily swimming along, a stingray nonchalantly swam under me...it was SO cool! I had a great swim, was super excited about the idea of swimming in clear water and was generally pretty stoked about the next day. Since it was my second Ironman, the nerves were different. The first time, there was a long of anxiety about not finishing. This time, I knew I could do the distance, so my fears were more along the lines of avoiding the injuries I sustained in Houston. Also, since I had displaced my SI joint in IMTX but didn't know about it till July, there was a little nagging in my mind that Joey's magic hadn't had enough time to work. Michael and I also had a friendly bet going, so I had a goal time in mind.
The day of the race dawned, and as soon as I checked the weather, my heart dropped. The cold front had come in overnight, and it was a very chilly 39 degrees. Now my big concern was being too cold after coming out of the water. I would have to take extra time in T1 to make sure I was as dry as possible before getting on the bike. As we got to the race area, there was a lot of speculation about the swim. I got my bike ready as fast as my frozen fingers could go, and then we headed into the hotel lobby to get my wetsuit on. They made the call to get out to the beach, and we all went out like lambs to slaughter, silently following each other. Being as vertically challenged as I am, I couldn't even see the water when we got to the beach, and the press of bodies was freaking me out, so we moved to the side.
My first look at the water banished any other thoughts from my mind. The surf was a blender, and the sherriff's boat got tossed around like a feather in a strong wind. Believe it or not, while other people were talking about how they hoped the swim got cancelled, I was plotting what technique to use in the waves. About ten seconds later the announcement came: no swim. Three thousand enthusiastic cheers went up, and about a hundred of us groaned (I was one of those). I love the swim, the swim is my friend, and like many others, felt like it wasn't a real Ironman without all three portions.
We were going to be seeded out on the bike, and all sat there shivering while we waited for our row to be called. Many had not packed extra nutrition, so they started to get very hungry as the hours went by. I did, and went to hide in a corner to eat so that I wouldn't get attacked by the other racers. Finally, it was our turn. Imagine the Ironman swim start, bodies everywhere, trying to find some room to move. Now add bikes and bad tempers. That was the first 30 - 40 miles of the bike. Nobody was happy with the wait, and many of the first timers now saw this as a bike tour, so they rode (poorly) as groups of fifteen to twenty. Since the wind ranged from 18-26 mph, and we had only warmed up to 42 degrees, it took about that first thirty for me to stop finding ways of quitting and thinking about being back at the hotel with my parents and Michael with a nice warm cup of hot chocolate. Finally, my competitive spirit kicked in, and those thoughts left, and my training took over.
In the middle of the bike we were directed over 12 miles of the worst road conditions ever. Large cracks in the road every ten feet or so made your bike go ca dunk ca dunk ca dunk. I was worried about busting a tire when suddenly my handlebars fell forward. Yes, the entire handlebar rack had come loose from the stem because of the bumping. I hauled them back in place, and tucked over the horns, holding the bars in place until Special needs a few miles up the road. There, I tightened them up quickly, and didn't really lose any time. A few miles later there was a collective sigh of relief as we turned off that road. You could tell who the newbies were, they stopped on the road, in the middle of turns, swerved all over the road. I was amazed we didn't have more crashes then we did. At that point we had a long stretch till we had a tailwind, so I just tucked in, sung to myself, and made sure I took my nutrition on time.
Nothing of note happened until mile 90. Then I started having some trouble steering. Looking down, I didn't see a flat on my front, so I stopped and checked for a back flat. Nope, all was good. A few more miles, and I really started having trouble. Now I thought it was my shoulder, that maybe I had pulled something. Finally, I got off my bike to make an overall check. My front tire was flat, I guess from the angle I couldn't see it before, or it was a slow leak. I had never had a front flat before, but I laughed thinking about how I had thought it was my shoulder! Somehow the tire had sealed itself to the rim, and I could hear the minutes ticking by as I wrestled my wheel. And I literally mean wrestled. A guy passed by and said, "are you okay?" to which I mournfully yelled "NO". I personally would have left the crazy lady behind but he took pity on me and became my angel. It even took him a few tries, but he got the tire off for me. I quickly changed the rest and got back on the road.
Coming into T2, I was concerned that riding that flat for so long would hurt my run. Nothing could be done about it, so I went out on the run with my plan - run race pace until I couldn't and then run intervals after that till the end. Amazingly as I came out, I ran into Lou Hollander, an 80+ year old who has been doing Ironman basically forever. It was a great way to start the run! I came through the chute, and there were my parents, cheering away. Well, my mom was cheering, my dad is a little too stoic for that, but hey, he was smiling! A few yards up, Michael was waiting for me. He had volunteered at Run Special Needs so he could be sure to see me. A hug and I was off. I felt good, keeping race pace was easy, but I knew better than to trust it. The run on the Ironman can eat you up and spit you out. The crowd dynamic was amazing, people out in Speedos in the cold, signs everywhere, music blasting and hula hoop girls twirling. My friend Paula was riding her bike along the course so she could keep track of a few of us, and it was nice to chat with her for a bit.
There was a portion in the run that went through a park, that was pretty lonely - no crowds and everyone was trying to find a way to keep warm as the temperature started dropping again. With the wind for 6.5 miles, then turn back into it, and the wind had not calmed down at all. I had decided to run with a handheld with a twist. I used a bottle I didn't mind tossing so I could have finisher pics without it. It worked really well, and my first loop went without a hitch. I was very happy as I came into Special Needs, knowing Michael would be waiting for me. And there he was, surfer hair and all, with a big grin on his face as he held out my bag to help me with whatever I needed. I felt so good that I just got more nutrition, took off my pack, gave him a kiss and off I went. He asked me how much longer I was going to run until I started intervals, and I said until I felt I couldn't run anymore. Rounding the turn back onto the course for my second loop, I sent out a silent prayer: if God would give me the strength to run the whole thing, I wouldn't give in to the mental tiredness and stop running. Darkness fell and it was very quiet out on the course between stations. More and more people were walking and shivering. I kept running....mile 14, then 17, then 20. As I hit the turnaround point for the final time, I really began to own the idea that I could run the whole marathon. At mile 24 I hit the wall, and my mind went pfffffft. I wanted to walk, I was cold, it was no longer any fun, and who's stupid idea was this anyway??? Still, I did the quick math, and two miles of running would get me to that finish line and warmth WAY faster than walking. Going by Special Needs again, Michael was still there. He had decided to stay to help out after his shift so that he could see me at the end. He ran with me for a little bit, then branched off as I entered the chute. I had finished another Ironman, 12:17, so even if I had the swim I had in Houston, (which would have upset me but hey) I would have done the full distance in under 14 hours, a full hour and a half faster. The finishers area is kind of a blur, getting to the car is a blur, and my mind shut down all external thoughts, choosing only to focus on immediate needs - food and warmth.
Sure enough, the next day brought back the sunshine and the warmth. Michael and I walked the beach and I was stunned how different it was the day before. Each race leaves its own mark. People have asked me if I will do Florida again. My answer is maybe, but not for a long time. I do feel like there is some unfinished business there, but it can wait.
I have spent a lot of time during my recovery thinking about how I got here. There were a lot of people who helped along the way, all recruits in Lori's Army, as Gina says. I thank all of you for your support, kind words, helpful advice, and even criticisms. Nothing like some bad comments to make you want to prove people wrong :)
So what now? 2015 is proving to be even a bigger challenge in may ways. First, I completely went off the deep end and signed up for IM Placid with German and Roger. I still have "what were you thinking?" moments. The bike profile gives me nightmares.
Hannah will graduate this year, and that also gives me nightmares. She grew up too fast, and while I tend to be a little stoic like my father when it comes to mushy stuff, I will bawl like a baby when it comes time to let her go. I'm also excited for her, a new phase in her life, and new adventures. It's an exciting time for her, and I am so very proud of my little girl.
Meeting Michael was not something I expected. I had enough of the relationship missteps I had gone through over the last couple of years, and had thought I would stay out of dating till Hannah graduated. Famous last words. A week later, he and I met, and the rest just fell together. Many of you already know this, but I have decided that at the end of this school year, I will be moving out to Georgia to be with Michael, his wonderful family and amazing friends. While I am very sad to be leaving all the incredible people I have met here, this has never really felt like home to me, and it's time for me to start some new adventures of my own. Since Michael is also an Ironman, I'm sure that will include many more races in the future.
This Ironman journey has had more twists and turns than a Spanish Novella, but it's not over yet. Right before my birthday, I got really sick and spent a few days in bed. For some weird reason, my back locked from laying down so long. So it's back to therapy. I'm kind of encouraged though, every time Joey works his magic on me, I wind up being faster!
May 2015 be a wonderful year for you all. May you reach the goals you have set for yourself and surprise yourself by reaching ones you didn't think you could!
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