Tuesday, July 30, 2019

(Can You Take Me) High Enough?

If you thought you were in for a race report, I’m sorry to say even I’m not talented enough to make a 5k race last for an entire post (you’re welcome?)  Long story short, the Walworth 5k was both an epic bomb and success – I managed to snag 2nd overall female, led the race for about a quarter mile, tried to keep up with the winner when she passed me about a half mile in, blew myself up doing so, and ended up walking part of mile 2 and watching her from just far enough away that I knew I would never catch her to finish 2nd.  My overall time was 22:57, or a 7:29 pace, which is a PR for this hilly course but not a 5k PR.  The day was hot and humid, the whole race felt terrible, and I have no idea why I do 5ks.  Oh right, because they hurt.  And they will make me faster.  And because my friends encourage me to make terrible life choices. 

Said friends.  From left to right, the Outlaw, who came in first overall (I’m still waiting for my cut of the prize, since the race was my idea), The Boy, who came in 3rd overall, and Greg (The husband!) who won his age group.  Despite my blow up and ego move that I know better on, it was a great morning, and we managed to log an additional 6 miles in warm up and cool down to cap off the day’s workouts.

Also of note this past weekend was Ironman Lake Placid 2019.  I can’t believe it’s been a year since I toed the line at my last 140.6.  All the pictures on Facebook of my friends doing the race, complimented with my “timehop” pics pf the years I raced  - 2018 and 2010 (first Ironman ever) have sent me into an introspective mood about tris and racing over the past few days.  
Best mile 1 of the run ever (Uh, I did not think through how to put him down...:-P)
As luck would have it, I had a trip on tap for Albany yesterday and today, so I had 7 hours in my car to overthink shit (yes, this is a good thing.)  I normally move at about a hundred miles an hour, so even though space to analyze my screwed up brain can be dangerous, it’s gotta be done.  I somehow managed to get stuck on a Pandora playlist of 80s tunes, and amidst Def Leppard, Poison, Warrant, Bon Jovi,  and Damn Yankees, I found myself jamming out (I totally have a shower and solo car singing voice and I’m not even apologizing for it) to “High Enough” quite a few times on the drive.  (I know this was recorded in 1990.  Get over it).

Even though Tommy Shaw was likely not talking about Ironman and Triathlon when he sang “High Enough”, I found myself applying the lyrics to the past year of my life as a triathlete. 

“We don’t need to talk about it anymore
Yesterday’s just a memory
Can we close the door
I just made one mistake
I didn’t know what to say
When you called me baby”

It’s really been a wild ride of a year, guys.  Last year at this time, I was seriously contemplating dropping the sport of triathlon for good, like a bad breakup.  I remember toeing the line at Ironman Lake Placid 2018, watching the incoming storm clouds over the mountains as I waited for the swim, feeling dread with the 112 mile bike ahead.  I remember swimming through the scrum in Mirror Lake, wishing that it would last forever so I didn’t need to start the ride.  I remember playing with my failed bike computer in T1, knowing that I would have absolutely no data for the ride or how fast I was going at any time.  

During the ride….clipping the cones at the first turnaround.  Going down the Keene Descent with sleet and crosswinds, gripping the bars and praying.  Of contemplating a DNF at mile 30, when I was so cold I couldn’t feel my fingers.  Mile 60, when a launched water bottle from the person in front of me caused my first bike crash of the day.  Of mile 80, when I dropped my chain…twice, and ended up sitting on the side of the road and looking for a way to bail (instead, I fixed the damned chain, of course).  And mile 100, when I remounted at an aid station, whiffed the mount, and dumped my bike and all my nutrition.  I remember rolling into T2, almost 8 hours after starting the bike, with my slowest bike split of any of my three Ironman’s by over 45 minutes. 

Thankfully, I rallied on the run and had a fantastic marathon – not enough to make me feel better about my abysmal bike, but enough to finish somewhat strong and leave that….little niggle there.
After Ironman, I put my bike in a corner and myself in timeout from triathlons.  I needed to make a choice.

After 14 years of racing, I looked back at both my race results and my heart.  And looked for some answers.  I knew that I couldn’t stay in a sport where I genuinely dreaded the whole bike portion….which is at least half the race.  Or continue to pursue the concept of “racing” where my times were actually getting worse due to my debilitating fear of my two wheeled steed. 

Something needed to be done.  I needed to either put out or get out (That’s what she said?).  I made the decision to just do 2019 fully....to throw everything I had in my to get where I wanted so desperately to be.  And you know the rest.  Big Scary Goals.  Go get em.

And the rest of the journey, you have likely been following.  I won’t explain….It’s too long…. so let me sum up.  I did the things.  I met the people that did the things.  I started training with people that did the things faster and stronger.  I started listening to the people that were better at the doing the things.  I did the things by myself and with other people that scared the shit out of me.  I did them with fear.  And even though I was scared, I kept doing them over and over.

Here we are, one year out from Placid and seven months in to project #bigscarygoals.
It seems as good a time of any to talk about it.  Last year at this time I was ready to hand my bike off to the volunteer at Ironman T2 that racked it tell him I never wanted it back.  Ever.

I lied.

I knew that giving up triathlon would be giving away a piece of me that I had known for 14 years – most my adult life.  I also knew how damned much I loved it – the training, the racing, the people, the fun I’ve had.  I had to get back to that fun.  Where I jumped in the pool with my friends…went flying down the road on my bike to play, and end with a rousing game of tag – you’re it – I’m going to run you down!

You guys.  I found it.  After a year….I found the fun.  And I’m sure no one is surprised after my last few months, I’m happy to report that I am not, in fact, selling my bike and ditching the sport.
It took a lot to get here.  And shockingly, little.  I won’t account for the training hours, because that stayed consistent – I always trained.  Maybe not in the most effective way, but I was never afraid of hard work.  For the hurdle I faced, I had two major things to face – my mental state, and the way I perceived the sport.

I had to learn to be a kid again.  Not only to reclaim my love of the sport, but also in terms of relearning almost everything I thought I knew.  I had to relearn how to clip in my bike (apparently my pedals were terrible.  I’ve used these pedals for 12 years and had…no clue).  I had to learn to mount my bike.  I had to learn how to ride with the wind.  I’m still learning arrow aero and shifting.

The last two, you would think I would know by now.  The first three, I am sure you are shaking your head in disbelief at.  But I’m not here to sugarcoat any of this.  I think you all know I keep it real.  There is a sense that after you’ve been in the sport for years that there is nothing left to learn.  Yeah, right.  Once I got into the tabula rasa  mentality and realized that I not only could use advice from the 20 year veteran but also the 28 year old teammate that had been in the sport for 2 years, it changed the way I approached it.  Everyone has something to teach you if you’re a willing recipient.  It just takes the ability to realize that you don’t, in fact know everything.  It’s powerful stuff.

I also needed some serious mental undressing.  I needed to assess my fear, figure out why it existed, and relearn how to approach the scary things.  In my case, it was mix of fears – I’ve been hit by a car, so I assume every car is going to hit me.  I have a serious lack of coordination, so I’m sure that every time I shift, grab nutrition, or go in arrow aero that I will go all over the road and crash.  I also was afraid of speed – of going too fast and crashing.  This fear got worse after I had my second child in 2015—because not only was I going to crash and either maim myself or die with all the above, I was now going to leave my kids without a mom.

Seriously, you guys.  I swear I’m getting help for my anxiety.  I won’t lie, though.  I identified the fear, and I’m working on it.  I no longer fear the ride.  I’ve done a few group rides and although they are with guys that would help me out if I needed It, they also push me to face those fears.  I used to wait before clipping in for a ridiculous amount of time, deep breathing and trying to fight the paralyzing urge to ditch the ride.  I now mount the bike and take off.  It might not be pretty, but with repeated practice, I’m looking less like a drunken monkey and more like a tipsy monkey.  It’s progress.  The big difference is I am facing the fears I’ve identified – one by one.

It’s nowhere near perfect.  Everyt ime I hit a milestone, I celebrate amidst the good natured ribbing from my team about how I’m now an 8 car train wreck instead of 9.  And I laugh.  Because it really is funny, but also because I see the progress.  And it’s rewarding in many ways.  I’m getting better, of course – I’ve seen a drastic reduction in my times for the year and set huge PR’s in the Olympic and Half Ironman distances.  Now…I’m hungry.  Eager to see what I can do.  Intrigued to see the talent that others see in me.  Ready to do the work and see how far I can take this.

But most of all…it’s fun again.  I can’t wait to get out there and ride my bike.  To go for a swim.  To run.  And to grab a training buddy and get the work done while chatting about almost anything under the sun, and mixing my social life with the sport I love.  And that’s my selling point. This now my new release from life and what I like to do best – which is everything a hobby should be.
 So, that’s where I’m at.  Lake Placid 2018 was “Just a memory”….now it’s time to “Close the door”.  Damn Yankees said it best….

“Don’t say goodbye
Say you’re gonna stay forever”

Thanks Tommy Shaw.  Let’s see how high we can go this year.  Sky’s the limit!

1 comment: