Chugga CHOO CHOO

They say that the finish line is not the defining moment. The journey is what changes you, shapes and molds you. Causes you to face your fears, shake your doubts and test your spirit. My journey has shaped me, and this chapter of injury has probably shaped me more than any other part. There were so many things I had to let go of, and I had to face by biggest fear – I was not in control of my own body, my mind could no longer just will me through it.

The weekend before the race, we had bonus son #2’s graduation. We had a great time, but with all the walking, standing, car time and chairs that didn’t have a whole lot of support or cushion, my back was letting me know it wasn’t happy. My adjustment Monday felt off, I had a horrible headache and hip pain Tuesday, and Wednesday my back was really in pain. I stood in the living room that night and said to Michael the words I didn’t want to say, “If this is how I continue to feel, I can’t race Sunday.” There it was, what I dreaded was about to come true. I stuffed ice packs down my pants all day Thursday (much to the hilarity of my students). Thursday after school I went back to the doctor as a walk in. He took one look at my face and took me right in. The adjustment felt better, and we talked about what to do. He told me that he was going to clear me, but that he trusted me to make the right decision in the moment if I needed to. 

Friday I continued with ice packs and stayed horizontal as much as possible. I felt better, but I wasn’t going to risk it. Saturday was check-in, and Michael and I were excited at the chance to meet Rinny and Sebastian, since both were going to be at the pro panel. Bikes were checked in, last minute advice given by my coach, and then we wandered over to the pro panel. And there they were! We got to meet both of them. Rinny is TINY, and solid muscle. Putting your arm around her is like putting your arm around a cement column.

Giggling like school children, we met up with our DAC friends to have a late lunch before going home. As we walked through Ironman Village, Michael asked me how I felt. I said, “I’m not even nervous. Walking through here makes me feel like I’ve come home.” I think it was in that moment I knew I would finish the next day.

At the swim start, I had some time to talk to God. I was honest with him – I knew I was undertrained being injured, and my back was a big if, so I said to Him, “This is going to have to be all You. There isn’t a whole lot of me ready to do this.” I was calm and at peace with whatever the day brought. My only goal was to finish…okay, not entirely true. I did have a time goal, but it was based on my paces during training, and I was more than willing to let go of them if it meant being able to cross the finish line. The swim had a 350 m upstream and then a turn to go downstream the rest of the way. I thought I would be smart and swim wide of the buoys downstream, missing the mess of bodies that would be swimming near them. It wasn’t smart – I cost myself minutes by trying to cross cut the current, and it would throw me off course. Will not being doing that again!

Out of the water, and off to transition. While I was thrilled to have my bike close to the swim out (as close as it could be when you have to run down a dock, up a hill, then cross the street to get there), it also meant that Bike Out was all the way across transition from me. I ran/jogged/walked as I needed and I was mounted and ready to go. The gentleman in front of me however, with his $5000+ bike and super aero helmet was having some difficulty getting his shoes on. He had thought to save himself time by having his shoes clipped in on the bike ahead of time. Only works if you practice it, which it didn’t seem he had. He wove back and forth all over the lane, and when I tried to pass him, he swerved in front of me. Not going down because of him, I just spun my pedals and waited for him to get his act together.

The bike course is all about perspective. Those that live here or in similar areas would say that they are rollers with some long inclines. Those that live in flatter areas would curse the hills. I’ve not even lived here a year, and in those first twenty miles, I questioned a number of times why I hadn’t chosen Galveston instead. I’ve never had home court advantage, and knowing all the quirks of the bike helped me tremendously. Problem with a rolling start without seeding for time is that you constantly have fast bikers flying up from behind you. I got a little sick of being passed. It was more than made up for by the gorgeous scenery.

Halfway through the course is Andrews Hill. It’s a sharp left turn, a VERY steep incline that ends, with the irony not lost on me, at a cemetery. You take the corner with as much momentum as you can muster, prepare to gear down and start asking the gear fairy to bless you with more gears. I was afraid it was going to be packed on the hill and I wasn’t disappointed. I was happy to pass some guys there, knowing full well that when we got to the descent, they would come flying by. A girl did almost hit me as she overcorrected to miss a branch on the road, but soon I was up and over and getting ready to enjoy the half mile of hold onto your bike and pray you don’t fall kinda descent.

We turned left again, riding back toward town. At first the wind didn’t seem so bad, then I came around a curve and BAM! There it was. What was supposed to be a light breeze turned out to be a fairly strong wind. There’s a long incline through Chickamauga (say that five time fast), and then a really fast descent. Coming back into town, my bike began gearing funny. I thought I had it figured out, and then at mile 52, my chain dropped. I coasted to an intersection where there were two policemen directing traffic for us. The lady officer asked me if I was okay, and I told her I was, I had just dropped my chain. She must have not been a cyclist, because she got all concerned and said, “How far back? I’ll help you go look for it!” I thought that was so sweet, but also a little funny.

Coming back into transition I got smart. I dismounted, entered the bike area, stopped and took off my shoes. I was not going to try to run all the way across transition wearing those shoes. Getting to my area, I saw that the lady next to me had set up camp – right where my bike was supposed to be. I asked her to move, which she did – slowly. A quick change of shoes and I was off on the run. I immediately saw Sheree, and that really helped me get off on a good start. My legs felt heavy, but I was hoping they would ease up as I went. That didn’t happen. My right calf started tightening up badly, and I started going through all possible reasons. I fueled properly on the bike, had my Ucan, ate my food, had my Nuun….oh wait, no I hadn’t. I had the tube with me on the bike, but didn’t put any tabs in my fuel bottles. Ugh, it's suck it up buttercup time.

Using my run/walk method, I soldiered up an incline to see a large group of blue shirts. DAC rocks! It was just what I needed to get motivated to keep at it. These awesome people were everywhere on the course, surprising us at various spots on the bike, and now the run. 

The volunteer stations were amazing, especially Kona-nooga. They were so happy, you couldn’t help but feel happier too. As my legs got more tired, I decided my best chance of not having to walk the whole thing was to lower my run interval and increase my walk. It was a really good decision, and soon I was rounding the corner to get to the chute. Bless them for putting the finish line at the bottom of a hill, gravity worked, and I ran all the way in. As the volunteer put my medal on, I began to feel very light headed, and tipped to the side. They called medical, and got me a wheelchair to sit in. All through the race, I had a heart of gratitude, and reminded myself that almost exactly ten months before I was in a wheelchair to spend the day with my family. Sitting in that wheelchair again at the finish line, I felt I had come so far from that person I had been, and I had an answered prayer – God had carried me through.

In our DAC group, we had a number of people who were doing this for the first time. Everyone finished, and many beat the goals they had for themselves. I feel blessed to be surrounded by such wonderful, supportive people. I have a great guide in my coach, Robyn, and I thank her for her patience as we both figure out when I can push and when I have to hold back.

Every day I think about how lucky I am to have such an amazing husband, and this training was just part of the reason why I feel so blessed. Michael cheered me on through every breakthrough, held me when I cried, listened to my fears, was my rock through setbacks, and gave me a kick in the butt when I needed it. Our song at our wedding had the line, “When God made you, He must have been thinking about me.”

I know this path will continue to hone and shape me. The Full is now just over 100 days away, and there's a lot of work to do. But in this past year, I have seen what an incredible support group I have, and if it takes a village...well, my village is pretty stinkin awesome.

Tech-no-no

Most people love technology. The advantages of technology, especially in our sport, can make a huge impact on our training and results. Pouring over data, splits, watts, cadence, and heart rate has almost become a discipline of its own. And then there's me. I certainly have nothing against technology, I think it's awesome. For some reason, the feeling isn't mutual. I don't understand why, I talk nicely to all my equipment, tuck it in at night, read it stories, but to no avail.

This discord first showed up in heart rate monitors. Training by heart rate is critical in Ironman. Teaching your body to stay in that golden zone 2 can be the difference between finishing strong and crawling. My first few months of training, I took my heart rate with my watch and counting beats. Then I tried monitors. The first one lasted five minutes, the second told me I had a heart rate in the 160's while I was light jogging, and dropped to a 55 while I was doing intervals...so basically I was dying. Right after that I tried a third, and I couldn't even get it to pick up my heart rate. So I went back to the old fashioned method, and I was happy to know I still had a heart rate during intervals.

GPS became an issue. During my Southern Tour with Hannah, Whinney (as she is called in our family), would take me the worst way possible. Trying to find Target from our hotel took us through every back road, and when we finally got there, right across the parking lot was the same road our hotel was on. What the heck?!? Whinney tried to take us back the way we came, but I ignored her and took the main road. Took 20 mins to get there, five to get back. Houston, we have a problem.

Michael didn't believe that Whinney had it out for me until we took two cars to Ikea in Atlanta. We typed in the same address, and off we went. We got separated in traffic, and after he got there, he asked me where I was. My answer? I have no idea. She had us on a road I had never seen, through two neighborhoods that were pretty scary and a U turn that I missed because why would there be a U turn???

Once we finally got there we looked at the routes. Using the same address, Whinney had Michael get off at exit 250, and I was sent to exit 252. He now believed.

As we were renovating, Lowe's became our second home. We took our cart to checkout, waited our turn, and then the lady started trying to scan our merchandise. And nothing. The gun wouldn't work. She tried resetting it, and nothing. She laughed, saying she had just used it. Michael looked at me and asked me to go stand about ten feet away. The lady look really confused. Michael told her to go ahead, and sure enough, the scanner worked. She couldn't believe it, but it didn't surprise me at all.

Theories range from having certain magnetic fields in my body that messes with tech, to since I was electrocuted as a child, it stayed with me. My Garmin and I get along well enough, except that it can take four or five tries to get it started sometimes. I'm reluctant to upgrade to the 920 since it's a lot of money to spend on something I'm not sure will work for me. Maybe I'm reading the wrong bedtime stories...