I find myself in a long line of triathletes waiting to get into the transition area where we can rack our bikes and lay out our gear. There is an announcer giving directions over a loud speaker, so as I get closer to the entrance of the swim-bike transition area, I can understand what he is saying. "There will be over 1,000 participants today." "Swim starts will be 3 minutes apart, and you must start with your age group, wearing the appropriately colored swim cap." Since I am 40 my cap is yellow and I will start at 6:33am. "The water temperature is 72 degrees, so by USA Triathlon Rules, wetsuits will be allowed." Good thing that I rented one!
By the time I get in the corral, it is starting to get light. Among the many many rows of bike racks, I find the section that has been assigned to my age group and I begin to lay out my gear. This is now my Transition 1 territory! (I set up my Transition 2 territory last night at Windsor High School... That's where I will get off the bike and start the run ... some triathlons are situated where both transitions occur at the same place, but not today... that means that I'll need to come back to Guerneville and pick up my car later tonight).
The time is going by pretty quickly and I realize that I only have about 10 -15 minutes before start time. I quickly rush to the portable toilets one last time and return to put on my wetsuit and then head down to the water. My wetsuit is just about 1 inch short and 2 inches too tight around the chest, so I have to get help from someone to zip me up. Now I'm all set and finally the moment arrives where we are told to get in the water and wait for the count-down... 3- 2- 1 - GO!
The water in the Russian River doesn't seem very cold (thanks to the wetsuit), and I find that I'm floating a lot easier (again thanks to the wetsuit). I start swimming. There are arms and legs kicking everywhere... I don't want to get hit in the face! I'm getting brushed by others and I'm bumping in to them as well. The water is dark, so I can only see people beside me when I take a breath and when I lift my head to sight in the open water and make sure I'm heading in a straight direction. I am feeling pretty calm (considering that this swim portion of the Ironman has been THE major fear that has kept me from attempting this earlier in my life). I start a rhythm of stroke - stroke - breath that I plan to do for the next 2.4 miles. I have a goal to complete this portion of the race in around 1hr 45 mins.
After a while I see athletes standing up and walking. I find that rather strange until I start to hit the gravel on the bottom of the river with my hands and realize that the river is very shallow in some parts. So, I stand up and walk for a few yards as well... trying to find deeper water. The rocks are sharp and don't feel good on my bare feet... besides isn't this supposed to be the swim leg? I feel like I'm going faster when I'm swimming vs. trying to wade through the water. (This happens about 5 times throughout the swim which is two laps up and down the river) I also find that my neck is starting to burn on the right side. During one of the times when I stand up, I discover that the velcro strap for the wetsuit is rubbing my neck raw everytime I breath and turn my head to the right... Not very comfortable, so I attempt to modify the fastener which helps a little, but the major damage has already taken place. Oh well, deal with it! I'm not letting that stop me!
The bike has a computer to tell me mileage, speed, etc., so about 2 miles into the race I realize I need to reset the computer so I'll have accurate readings. I start sipping water and taking a few electrolyte pills; a routine that I plan to do every hour. It's still early so traffic is not bad. Police officers are at all intersections controlling traffic, so that is really nice... no stopping, unclipping, starting. I don't really know the course since I didn't have time to drive it the day before, but the turns are marked and volunteers are everywhere directing us the right way. Besides, there are other cyclists all around, so I don't think I'll get lost. I'm making good time. I look at the computer and see I am averaging 20 mph. That's a little too fast than the pace I was thinking of, but I'm feeling good and don't feel like I am pushing hard, so I just keep the pace. I'm hoping to complete the 112 miles in under 8 hours... I calculated that in order to do so, I need to average around 15 mph, with hills and everything.
Suddenly a bike passes me around Mile 7 and I notice the man only has one leg. (Take a glance at the picture to the right and you'll see his right hand and crutch -- that means he swam faster than me as well!) He is clipped in and is just powering through with one leg. I have to take a picture of this, so I reach down and try to get my phone quickly before he's out of site. He ends up in front of the guy in the blue shirt (pictured below) in front of me... He's blocked so I can't get a good picture, but here's what I took. While I'm at it I snap a picture of me as well (at least I tried to while pedaling down the road)
I begin to ponder if my Ironman challenge is really that big of a deal? When I see someone like that (a one-legged man passing me on the same challenge) it makes me stop and think about my tiny impact. Life really is interesting and can teach us great lessons if we're ready to learn. We should all be trying to get better, to improve upon where we currently are... in all aspects of life! When things happen that may get us down we still have a choice on how we will move forward. Attitude is very important! Determination and Discipline are as well! Even though I'm still in the first several miles of the bike portion of the race, I am motivated by seeing this man and more determined to complete my goal at all costs.
A little after these thoughts settle into my mind, I'm ready for some water. We are going up and down hills and around curves, through the woods... really a fun ride so far. After I replace my water bottle I go over some bumps... out goes my water bottle! "Goodbye!" I say, because I'm not stopping to go pick it up. I look at the guy next to me and say, "At least I just got to take a drink first, huh?" He says nothing, just keeps pedalling. I'm not too worried about the water, because I know there is supposed to be water and Gatorade at mile 28. Sure enough there is, and as I ride by, I grab a bottle of Gatorade from one of the volunteers outstretched hand and keep going.
The next 20- 30 miles is pretty much the same routine.... keep pedalling! Going up hills, down little hills. The terrain seems to be mostly neutral... maybe slightly more uphill on average. The weather is perfect, slightly overcast. Just a perfect beginning to the day in Napa Valley. I make it up a long hill and have a fun fast ride down the other side... I got up to 38 mph going down! I pass through another aid station, but don't need anything... Pretty soon, I realize that I'm half-way through. But, I also realize that this is the furthest I've ever riden a bike in my life... Only one other time I rode 60 miles... and that was July 4th 2011. (I've tried to be pretty conservative in my riding because in the prior two months after borrowing the bike, I tried to increase the mileage pretty quickly... That, combined with trying to do the same intensity with my running, generated stress in my right knee and created IT Band friction pains... so, I pretty much kept to only 20- 30 miles on my training rides, once or maybe twice a week). It's kind of hard to find a free 4 to 6 hour block of time for training while managing a family with five active kids, full time work, etc. !Knee pain is not good... not for biking or running... actually not good for anything! Of course, I have concerns about my right knee acting up on the ride. So far it's holding out really well. The chiropractic adjustments and the deep tissue massage that I received earlier in the week to break up adhesions seem to be paying off for my right knee. But, what is this little pain that is starting in my left lateral knee joint? Soon, I find myself heading up Chalk Hill, a fairly steep hill on the course. By the time I reach the top, I start to get a little concerned about the left knee and begin to slow down my pace to conserve energy and to try to reduce the stress on it. I decide that I will stop at each aid station and stretch for 8 to 10 minutes, to break up the repetitive motion, and to allow my body opportunity to try and replenish energy stores.
As I pass through the miles around the half-way point and as begin to think more about the knee pain, my mind begins to entertain thoughts of doubt and fear. I start to feel the impact on my body and wonder how I will even finish another 50 miles, and then run a marathon? I decide to stick with my original plan of hydrating and consuming calories: I eat a Cliff Bar, take some electrolyte pills, and a glucose tablet. I soon begin to recognize scenery and a portion of the road that I know I passed ealier in the morning. I now know that I am on the second lap and I begin to anticipate some of the hills and aid stations. I decide to use this familiarity of the course to my advantage. I adjust my mental perspective and just focus on what is coming up. About this time, I hear sirens wailing in the distance. They are approaching quickly and soon a fire truck zooms passed. I'm wondering, where is the fire? About a mile or two later, I catch up to the firetruck parked in the middle of the road and notice they are attending to a cyclist lying in a fetal position on the side of the road. Is it heat exhaustion? Did he get hit? What happened I wonder as I cycle by?It is now around 1pm. The sun has been out for over an hour and I notice the temperature has warmed up quite a bit. I continue my hydration, mostly water now. I keep a bottle of Gatorade on the bike, but bike while holding a bottle of water. This water is handy for rinsing my sticky fingers after eating another Cliff Bar. I begin to squirt water on my head through the slits in my bike helmet. This feels pretty good! I squirt some water down the back of my neck and let it run down my back. My neck begins to sting and I realize it is from my skin having been rubbed raw during the swim. It's OK because it takes my mind off my knee.
I continue on... up and down familiar hills... I arrive at the same aid stations and joke with some of the volunteers that I'm back. They offer me a chair to sit down, and I tell them, No. I've been sitting on a bike saddle for 6 hours by now (thank goodness I broke down and bought the tri shorts with a padded seat), and besides, if I sit down I may not be able to get back up!
Chalk Hill seems to be a little steeper this time around. I strategically use my gears differently on this ascent and I stand up as I slowly climb the hill. Strange as it may seem, I am passing 5 other cyclists... how is that possible? Soon after coasting down the other side I start looking at the odometer and begin calculating the remaining distance... Only 25 more miles... Only 24 more miles... Only 23 more miles. I realize that this slow count isn't really helping because I have a route at home that is about that long and when I do that loop twice, I can become very tired... time to focus on something else. I find that it is easy to let my mind wander. Some triathlete passes me; I look at their bike; I sense how hard they are pedalling. I pass someone and I wonder if they are in pain? What's their story? Is this their first attempt at an Ironman as well?
Soon I pass through the half-way point marker again and realize that I only have about 13 miles left. My instinct is to pick up the pace. I hold back knowing that I need to nurse my left knee (which is starting to become more and more painful). I start to think more about the 26.2 mile run and formulate a plan for dealing with the pain. I resolve to pursue a walk -run strategy, and as I finalize those thoughts I find myself in the last miles leading up to T2 (transition from bike to run).
I quickly step into a changing tent and emerge dressed as a runner. As I am walking toward the transition exit to begin the marathon, I hear an announcement... The first place finisher has just crossed the finish line, just under 9 hours. That means that I biked the 112 miles in 7 hours 12 mins... I'm pretty happy with that because that puts me ahead of my expectations by about 1.5 hours! My energy level is great. My legs don't feel too wobbly. My knee does hurt a little as I walk on it, but I feel pretty good about my plan to walk the first two miles then alternate running 4 miles/ walking 1 mile for the rest of the race.
I pull out my little bag of Pringles and start walking. I figure the carbs, fat, and calories that I need are packed in those little chips. There are tons of spectators and volunteers along the side of the road. One lady says, "Now that's my kind of runner!", as I munch on the chips and walk by. I just smile and think to myself, "If only you knew what I'm really like." I'm now strolling quickly, eating, and feeling really awkward to not be running. (I ran Cross Country and Track in High School and have done some other races throughout my years at Brigham Young University and Life West Chiropractic College. I've always been in the front quartile and would consider running one of my strengths.) That being said, it seems that my running ability has declined over the years. Partly because I have kept a busy work life, I find myself sitting behind a desk and sitting while commuting so many hours a day, that it has affected my muscle strength and endurance and thus has impacted my running ability. This is very frustrating to me... knowing my capability and potential and not living up to it is miserable to me. I just can't seem to be satisfied with accepting the "You're getting older" or "This is normal" kind of talk that is so common now days.
I'm now at mile 1.5 and am bored out of my mind walking. Seeing others pass me is excruciating... just a little more so than the knee pain, so I decide to break with my walk/ run plan and start to run. I only get a few strides into a run and feel the pain in my knee flair up. I keep running thinking the pain will magically disappear, or that my prayers for the pain to go away will be answered. I alter my gait a little trying to take the pressure off, but nothing works. Those 50 yards is enough of a test, to let me know that my run/walk strategy is not going to work. I continue walking thinking of other strategies, but now realize that my goal of finishing under 13 hours is not going to physically be possible. I start to calculate the distance in my head -- the timing necessary for me to complete the Ironman in the alotted 17 hours. I've never "walked" a marathon, but have heard it takes about 8 hours. That puts me right at the cut-off mark... that's cutting it too close for my comfort! So, I slightly increase my walking pace.
As I'm doing so, I mentally try to relate this experience to a vacation in Italy we had a few years ago, where my wife and I walked all over the cities of Venice, Florence, and Rome. We didn't want to spend money on transportation, so we just walked everywhere. And, we saw practically everything that others would see... we just walked fast to get to all the places. My only problem now, was I didn't know if my knee would continue to get worse, or if I had enough time to finish by the cut-off time. The only way I will figure out my pace is to keep going! So, I do.
I reach the first far-end turnaround point and soon cross the 5 mile mark... I continue walking and soon complete Loop 1. I get a bracelet indicating that I am now on lap 2. I calculate my time and realize that it took me 1 hr 50 mins to complete the almost 9 miles... I'm making pretty good time! (just for the record I ran 9 miles in under an hour back in February, so this is a little frustrating) Still, I am somewhat relieved now, knowing that all I have to do is keep walking and I will be an Ironman... just a couple of more hours! On this second lap, I begin to recognize other athletes. Many are doing a run/walk strategy as I had originally planned. I find myself passing some of the walkers, only to have them pass me shortly thereafter as they jog by. But, then a few minutes later... I pass them walking again. There are a few individuals that I continue to pass/be passed by for the rest of the race.
Going downhill is very painful for my knee! I find that this is the worst part about the marathon walk so far. I pass the 13 mile mark and am happy to know I'm half-way there. The song by Bon Jovi... "Half-way there... Living on a prayer..." pops into my mind and I sing that in my head for a while. I'm jolted back to reality as I go down one of the steeper hills on the course. The pain has increase as the irritation and stresss on the joint is exacerbated with each step. There are points along the way where I consider stopping. I notice another pain developing. This one is a searing, buring pain on my left pinky toe. I know I'm getting a blister, but continue to walk on. After a few more miles, I ask for a bandaid at an aid station. I sit down to wrap up my toe. I shouldn't have sat down! As I stand up I notice that my hamstrings on both legs have tightened and now they start to burn and pull with each step as well. What's going on with my body I begin to wonder? I'm nearing the end of the 2nd loop (18 Miles) and see all the spectators lining the last 1/2 mile stretch leading up to the finish. They are cheering everyone on, but it seems they are cheering on those who are trying harder. I get fewer comments it seems, perhaps because I am walking.
At this point, I don't really care. This is an internal competition for me, and the external cheers won't make a difference. I do start to look for my family in the crowd. They were planning to come up later in the day after finishing with Swim League Championships. By this time, I estimated that the girls swim meet is over and they have driven the 100 miles to be at the finish as planned. I don't see them! I guess that means no pictures! Sometimes when we are accomplishing a big goal it is nice to document the moment... to have a momento to look back upon as a source for future inspiration. That's what I was hoping for, but I guess it's not going to happen... in the end I have my memories and mental pictures.... I have all of the thoughts that have crossed through my mind as memories, and you can't even take pictures of those. As I continue walking, I think of how blessed I am. I am grateful for a healthy body that allows me to even attempt this journey. My emotions well up a little as I consider how great my Heavenly Father is, with all his creations, me included. I soon take note of a lady who cruises by on her hand-bike. She obviously is a parapalegic, but is out there giving her best. Another moment of gratitude and inspiration sweep over me!
I am now on my final loop. My pace has slowed down a little. The 2nd loop (about 9 miles each) took me exactly 2 hours. If I can pace out another 2 hours, I will finish at 9:30pm. I discover I have two major competing pains now. The left knee and a new pain on the ball of my left foot. I know this is the formation of another blister, but there is nothing I can do about it now. It is caused by my altered gait that I have developed as I try to compensate for the knee pain. Each step feels like someone is filleting the skin off of my foot, followed by stabbing me in the knee joint with an icepick. I have passed the final turnaround and am heading back for the final 4 or 5 miles. It is completly dark now, and I'm just walking and walking. I continue to pick up food and drink at each aid station and consider that my nutrition plan worked out very well for the day. I pick up a cup of ice and begin to chew the ice as I walk. I try to freeze my tongue to take my attention away from my knee and foot. It works for a few seconds.
I finally pass my last aid station and head down the last mile. As I approach the area where all the spectators have been, I notice that the crowd has thinned a little, but there are still a few die hards who are still rooting us along. A guy passes me running only to stop a few yards away and starts walking. I catch up to him and say, "Just a few more blocks." He say, "Yah, I thought this was the last one." I pass him for a few minutes, until we turn the corner which leads directly to the finish line and he runs past me. I finally make it to the carpeted area, which leads to the finish arch and hear my name announced, "Jason O'Connor from Antioch, CA... Come on Jason, Bring it on in! There we go!" So, I create some kind of gallop- limp- run and cross over the finish line. I now hear my kids yelling my name. I look over behind the fences and see each of them along with my wife smiling and saying things like, "Good job, Daddy!" "Are you done?" "How was it?"
I awake the next morning, ready to go to church. Yes, I have a few aches and pains, they will start to go away as my recovery begins. In the back of my mind, I know what I need to do next.... I have to do set some new goals, strengthen some muscles, work on my endurance and, Yes, I will have to do another Ironman to improve upon this performance. That's the way I look at things. That's the way I pursue life. Little by little, this pursuit of my personal best and the transition from Ordinary to Extra-ordinary will happen. Good luck to each of you as you continue along your own journey. Perhaps our paths will cross in the future!
No comments:
Post a Comment