Tuesday, May 18, 2010

The Race-- AKA Thank God I didn't Eat those Pomegranate Seeds

When we left off I had just started for the race site.

I was ready. I knew how to get there. This directionally challenged girl was up for the challenge.

I was fine until I hit the cones. I didn't literally hit them, but they blocked they way I needed to go. I stopped the car on the side of the road and stared. I had to go that way! That was the way to go! Sadly, I steered my little van down the wrong exit. I had no choice; the correct way, the way I knew, was blocked off. So much for preparation.

Time for plan B. This plan usually works when I'm lost before a race (and trust me when I tell you, I am often lost before a race). Here's the strategy: find a car with a USAT sticker or a 26.2 sticker or a 70.3 sticker or a 140.6 sticker or... you get the pictures--and FOLLOW THAT CAR! I drove around aimlessly for a bit. I found a police officer hanging in his cruiser on the side of the road and I asked him where to go. He didn't know, but assured me that three other people had asked him the same question. Great.
And then I saw it. A car with a USAT sticker! I skidded away from that cop (probably not smart, I know...) Follow that car!  The car was a zippy SUV. The driver was MOVING! I wouldn't lose him. I wouldn't lose him. I wouldn't! We hit 50, 55, 60. We weren't on highway. Was this guy trying to lose me? I would not lose him! I would not stay lost! And then I saw a sign for Triathlon Parking. Hallelujah! I had made it!!

The Tweedledee and Tweedledum parking attendants ushered me kindly into the Dopey (appropriate placement for me, eh?) parking lot. When I stopped I took careful note of where I had parked my car. Second row. Second spot. Next to a white Volvo. I would not fuck this up. It was 4:30 a.m.

I got out of my car and got my stuff. I chatted the white Volvo man who had parked next to me.
Did you have trouble with those cones? I asked.
What cones? he said.  
The cones blocking the road?
He looked at me strangely.  No, he said. I just came the same way I did yesterday.  
Oh, I said. Right. Of course you did.

Little voice: Is there something wrong with you Mary? Yes, there is. We know this, Mary. Covered Ground. Move on. Then a bike shoe dropped out of my bag. He picked it up. Then the handle of my bag got tangled on a car we walked by. He untangled it. I might have to stay away from you, he said. You're not having a lot of luck this morning.
I tittered. He moved away from me, and I didn't see him again.
Whatever, I thought. I made it here, Dude. I made it from Boston to Orlando to this race site, and I did it by myself. You have no idea what an accomplishment that is for me. Plus I will probably beat you today. So there.

ONWARD! 

I did all the stuff you do before a race. Pumped tires. pee. Set up area. pee. Fill bottles. pee. Lube everywhere. Pee. Check tires again. pee. pee. pee. pee.As I prepared I looked around me. Everyone had such nice bikes! Everyone looked so fit!  How could I actually believe I was faster than all of these tanned, slim, strong women with killer bikes?

Negative thought. Alert! Exit Brain!

At the swim start I watched the pros loosen up and jump around. I didn't recognize any of them, but they were universally chiseled and compact. I ate a gel. I stared. I looked at the water, placid and dark. The sun was still not up. I wished I could pee, but I didn't have a wetsuit on, and it would be a little too obvious to do so. I'd have to wait until I was in the water. I shivered.

I was wave 6 out of like a billion. The pros and the older athletes started first. I guess I am now old, because the 40-44 year old women were included in this OLD mix. When they called us to the water I went in and sunk to my knees in the shallow water and peed. No shame. I know. Then I moved out again. It was a running entry, not a submerged start.

At the GO! I ran in and dolphin dived. and then again. and again. and again. Would I ever reach deep enough water????? And then I was swimming and I was latching onto a fast girl's feet. We moved away from everyone else. There were three of us. This continued until we hit the orange caps (men 18-24 (okay, yes, they're young) and W45-49). We swam through them. As we did, I lost my feet. Damn! After several more minutes I was swimming through the blue caps (M 55+ and W 50+) and then again, there was the calm water. I continued to see orange and blue caps sprinkled throughout--and here and there a green cap too--(the paratriathletes, wave 3) but for the last 10 minutes of the swim it was relatively calm swimming. I never did find my two compatriots from my AG. I had no idea if they were with me somewhere, or ahead of me or behind me. I knew I would be one of the first AG women out of the water. I did know that. The only other waves ahead of us were the sliver and pink caps--the pros.

Stats: 33:03. 3rd out of the water in AG. The fastest woman in my AG was 31:45. The second fastest was 32:20--so those two women I was with in the beginning did finish ahead of me. The swim was long and slow. The fastest pro of the day was only a 24+, which tells me it was slow because of a lack of wetsuits, but also because it was simply long. 

It was a longish run to T1. I passed a 46 year old woman in the chute. At my rack I noted that there were no other women around me. Good sign. As I put on my helmet a girl zipped in behind me to her bike. I fumbled with my Garmin. I took off my glasses to see what I was doing because they had fogged. The woman who had come in was leaving with her bike. GOD DAMN IT! I am a SNAIL! I grabbed my bike and ran after her. I forgot my glasses on the way out. DOUBLE DAMN! A 56 mile ride sans sunglasses on the unbearably white roads of Disney in the hot sun of Orlando in May? TRIPLE DAMN and FUCK TOO!

On the bike.

Often when I   ride a song comes in my head. When it's raining I may started humming "Here comes the rain again, walking on my head like a memory..." or " Blame it on the rain, yeah yeah." (yes, I am an 80s girl.) When it's hot I may think "Some like it hot and they sweat when the heat is onnn. Some feel the heat and decide that they can't go onnn ..." I

And for this ride? Click here.
Theme of this ride. Theme of this trip. Okay, pretty much the theme of my fucking life. He moves into a Rachmaninoff stint in the middle. Rachy is also the theme of this race--and my life. Right, Andy?

So I was alone on the bike. This makes sense. On the swim I passed the bulk of the people in the waves ahead of me. The pros were WAYYYY ahead, and the young, super fast men and women were behind me by a lot--having started more than 20 minutes after me on the swim. I did realize that the 40-44 year-old female fasties would be on me if I didn't ride well, and that helped to motivate. It was hard to ride in fear, though, because I actually wanted them near me. I wanted to do battle with them.

So the bike was lonely and involved quite a few 180 degree turns. Executing 180s is not a honed skill of mine, unfortunately. Think I lost a bit of time there! Still, Florida is relatively flat and so the course is fast. It's not as fast as Clearwater, but it's fast. It would have been faster if I had seen a living soul and been able to chase or catch up to anyone.

Stats:  2:38:06. 21.3 mph average. Came off the bike in 3rd position in AG, but my split was only 9th fastest in AG. There were some women right on my ass coming off the bike, that is for sure!

T2:
It happened. Nothing exciting to report. I glared at my sunglasses.

The run.
As is often the case, for the first mile I felt AWESOMMMMMEEEEE. I was relaxed, I felt smooth and I knew I was running too fast. I slowed, reluctantly.

At about 1.5 miles we hit the grass.

I. HATE. GRASS.

I didn't before this run. But now I do.
This grass was not clipped. not mowed. not pristine. This was trail grass--straggly, dry, crackling, loose dirt and ruts in the ground grass.  It was twist your ankle grass, out in the hot open sun grass, crispy central Florida wilderness grass. I slowed more. Damn it Damn it! The course was three loops. The grass portion of each loop was a little under 3 miles. That is nearly 9 miles of grass.

I didn't feel the blisters coming, but they were soon there. I needed trail shoes, and I had on light trainers. Fabulous. At mile 6 the blister on my left foot burst and blood soaked the side of my shoe. The other blister stayed closed. Here she is!


What a beauty. I snapped this photo in the airport. I'm sure those around me were thoroughly disgusted.

Onward. Also at mile 6 I lost control. Of my bladder. I dumped a cup of water over my head and I immediately began to pee. I have a history of "stress incontinence" as it's called. Having three babies--hell, having one baby--does that to you. You get working hard, break a sweat--and then you pee. Your muscles just don't work down there. It's one of five billion unfortunate consequences your body must face after having babies.

I preceded to take in water and then pee for the next 6 stops. I'd drink, dump water on my head, and then urine would stream down my legs. I was a vision with my sweat soaked shirt and shorts, my red chapped face, my bloodshot eyes (remember, no sunglasses on the bike), my sunburned back, my urine soaked socks and legs and my bloody sneaker. lovvvvveeeeelllly. 

Fortunately, I'm pretty sure no one cared or noticed my appearance. Everyone was focusing pretty hard on not expiring. There was little chatter among the athletes. It was a bit of a death march. I'd say 50% of the athletes were walking, and with every mile, more stopped. It was just so hot and the grass so difficult to run on. I didn't think much on this run except for the mantra Just Keeping Running. Just Keep Running. Don't think. Just run. I did emerge from my deep focus when a tiny, tiny woman passed me with such tight little prance I had to notice. As she trotted on I saw the name on her ass--Loeffler. She didn't look anorexic, but both of her butt cheeks were like the size of one of mine, and her legs looked like extremely muscular sticks. And she was moving like a gazelle. I wanted to be her. Actually, I wanted to be anyone but me or anyone who was suffering as bad as me on this run.

I knew I was pretty out of it starting the third loop. I was really working through the pain, refusing to slow down but slowing nevertheless. I realized at mile 10 I hadn't yet taken a gel as I  had planned to (at ummm, mile 3), and the thought of taking one made me immediately nauseated. But I did take one. It was okay. And for a few moments I actually felt better.

At mile 12 or so--very close to the end now, I felt my skin and noted I was no longer sweating. My skin was dry. Wasn't this a bad sign? But I couldn't think. Just keep running. Also, my vision was fuzzy and was doubling and I was starting to feel very disconnected from my body. But it was okay. I just needed to hold on and I would get in in just over 5 hours. Just Keep Running. Just hold on. At 13 I looked for the turn. It was coming. It was coming. The turn I wanted so much should be right here. But it wasn't... where was it? I ran. Where was it? Finally at 13.45 I stopped. I swayed a little when I stopped. 

Where is the end? Where is the end? And then I was shouting out loud, Where is the end???!!!

I was delirious and panicked. I shouted. Where is it?? !! Fuck! Where is it!! People stared at me. They were quiet. It is three loops! a woman said nicely. You need to keep running. She was behind me. I turned to face her. I've done my FUCKING THREE LOOPS! I screamed. WHERE THE  FUCK IS THE FINISH! I was spitting. I was hysterical.  I was waving my arms. She looked at me. She took a step forward and took my shoulders and she turned me. Go back the other way, she said gently. You will see it. The finish is back there. 

I began running again. Everything was fuzzy. I could tell my gait was not steady. Just keep running.

After a few minutes I found the turn. I was crying as I ran. I was crying as I hit the blue rug that was rolled out for the finish. I cried as the photographer snapped my picture crossing the line.

I clicked my watch. 5:06:45. A quick calculation told me I had added nearly 5 minutes to my time with that mistake. Nearly five minutes. I had just kept running--and I had lost five minutes to show for it.

A volunteer asked me if I needed medical help.
No. Yes. No. I think I'm okay, I said. The tears dried up. Do not be stupid, Mary. Do not.You are fine, Mary. You are fine.

I saw a small woman in QT2 outfit standing with a man. I was still sort of fuzzy. I knew her. Did I know her? She had passed me on the run. Her bib read Stacey. I said, Hi. Did you win? She looked confused. I realized I wasn't being quite coherent. Did you win our age group? I asked. I knew she was 40. I had noticed, of course, when I examined her leg for the tell-tale mark when she passed me on the run. I don't know. Maybe I did, she said. Did you have a good race?  I didn't cry again, but I'm not sure what I said in response to her question. I'm fuzzy on that too. Later I looked her up in the results. She is a girl I have raced with before. I made a mental note to find her on FaceBook and explain that I was slightly delirious when talking to her. (*I did this and found out she is doing IM CDA.  So I found both a new friend--and my competition....! Ekk! She seems very cool and friendly.)

I saw Keish and Kyle, two of my teammates, as I went to leave the finish area. I didn't make it out of the finish area though. I was fucked up enough so I decided I had to sit on some cases of water bottles in the shade to try to get my balance. Keish and Kyle talked to me as I sat there. They were surprised I had missed the turn. No way would I have missed that! laughed Keish. I wanted to go down that chute so bad!

So had I, I thought. What the hell is wrong with me?
I couldn't find the way out of the parking lots on my bike.
I couldn't make the turn because of cones--cones that no one else saw but me.
I missed a turn that I ached to make and that was an obvious turn--totally well-marked.

Am I more than directionally challenged? Is there something literally wrong with my brain?  For real?
I thought all this as I tried not to throw up and as talked with Keish and Kyle.
___________________

After I collected myself I went to the lake. I knew we were not allowed in--you know, the alligators and all. But I soaked there. I just soaked. A few other atheltes joined me. We didn't talk, we just soaked. Then a ranger came by in a boat and told us to leave.

I said no.

The others got up to leave. I stayed. NO.
You need to leave the water, Ma'am, he said.
I lifted myself out of the water and slowly, slowly made my way to the TriBike tent. 
On the way there I talked to Michelle Joaquin, who was down visiting some family and had come to cheer some of her athehltes on. It was great to see a familiar face She was encouraging about my race. She had seen me go on the 4th loop, but thought perhaps I was still on my 3rd, so didn't try to correct me.

I hung with Carolyn and Nancy and then the TriBike Transport Teammates. We took a picture.

Keish, George, me, Kyle, Jennifer, Andrew

And then I had to fly--so I could catch my flight. Before I left I found out that I had placed 5th and lost two spots to my mistake. I tried not to care. I tried to let it go. But there was no chance of that.

I chatted with Andrew on the way back to the parking lot. It felt a huge relief to have a friend with me. I was sad to say goodbye, but when we got there, we said our goodbyes and I went to my car.
Except my car wasn't there.
It wasn't next to the white Volvo. There was no white Volvo.

Tears flooded my eyes. I could not take it. I couldn't take it--not again.
I searched the parking lot for 15 minutes. The pavement was steaming and my blisters were on fire and I was sweating and parched.
Then I realized my mistake. I saw I sign. I was in Goofy.
I needed to be in Dopey.
I was one parking lot off. Goofy didn't house people like me. Only Dopey did.

I found my car, turned on the AC, sighed, and prayed to Heaven Above that I could just get to the airport without making ONE MORE GOD DAMNED FUCKING MISTAKE.

I did.
My next mistake was not being able to find the elusive EZ car rental. They sneakily put themselves on the third floor of the garage. Oh, and I also was in the wrong terminal when I dropped off the car. When I got to Terminal A, where I should have been, I nearly ran into a man as I headed for the restroom. Watch out for the marathoner! another man shouted at the man I had nearly careened into. I smiled. I'm sorry, I said. I'm not quite with it.  And that is a massive understatement, I thought. Massive.

On the flight home I played those final minutes of the race over and over again in my head. I simply couldn't let it go. I was in a daze--hair still wet with sweat and lake water, smelly, body marking smeared over my arms and legs. After a half hour of rubbing my temples and swearing at myself I STOPPED.  I pinched myself, opened a new book, and shut off my brain.
I got into Boston at close to midnight.

Okay. That's the end of the RR. It got sort of sad there at the end, huh? Or maybe just REALLY self-pitying?
Two days later I'm LIKE SO OVER IT.
(ha! whatever. I'll never get over it.)

But really. I had a great swim. I had a good bike--even if it was a lonely ride. And I had a good run. I pissed and sweated and focused my way through the 90 degree baking heat on the grass.
And I fucked up big time, but I still finished relatively well.
And I will not fuck up again.

Or, I should say, I will fuck up again. I am forty and I haven't yet experienced a long stretch of time without making a mistake of one kind or another.
But I will not make a mistake at CDA. I will not.

Final stats: run 1:50:43. 7th fastest run in my AG. A 1:45 would have given me the 3rd fastest split. And I would have been 3rd overall in AG.Both times are slow for me, but I am forgiving myself for that. That run is just not fast. It is a hard, hard run.
WITH my mistake I was:

5/132 AG
35/627 for women including Pros
23/615 for AG women
218/2017 overall

The End! Thanks for reading this novel!

22 comments:

Anonymous said...

Nice work! I cant believe that a 21.3 mile an hour bike was NINTH in your age group! That is so very super speedy!

Also, so you dont feel alone, I have "race incontinence". I dont have any kids (obviously) but I have been known to pee...while running...in a 4 miles race. Its a 4 mile race, the 2 minutes it takes to stop and pee is A LOT OF TIME!

cheryl said...

said: Everyone had such nice bikes! Everyone looked so fit! How could I actually believe I was faster than all of these tanned, slim, strong women with killer bikes?

I say: how could you possibly think you are NOT as fast as those girls! Mary, no doubt, you are right there with the best of the best. Now go have a great race at CDA!!!!!

Ewa said...

What a great report on a great race. You are just amazing, strong both mentally and physically. I think when we are stressed or want something really bad, we just focus and don't pay attention to our surroundings. Don't be so hard on yourself. You had a fabulous race. I am sure next time there is no chance you will miss the finish.
Again, loved your report. I actually had tears in my eyes reading it. It was almost like watching it live. Thanks for sharing.

Marit C-L said...

Hey Mary - you know what? You got through and you dealt with a lot of shit. And now, you're most definitely stronger and smarter for the experience. This happens to everyone - at some point or another, and you handled yourself GREAT. My worst meltdown was post Timberman 2007. I got lost in Boston driving the rental car back and ended up - well - I don't really know where. But there was no cell phone reception. And I could see islands in the bay. Tired, cranky, everything...bad bad bad. But we get through, and you did too.

Onwards and upwards - CDA will be FUN! I'm cheering for you!!!

Running and living said...

Oh, Mary, I nearly cried about you starting on a 4th loop. You should read Angela Kidd's HM report, where she turned into the marathon course when she wanted to do the half. I think when the effort is so intense, the mind foggy, it is so easy to make errors like this. Grr!!!! But you had an amazing race! You really did! So be proud!!!!

GoBigGreen said...

Oh Mary! I just wanted to retroactively give you that gel ( or two or three!) you are not a mess up you just had low blood sugar and obviously were not thinking straight. I know that feeling, we all do.
You are going to use this to your benefit at CDA I know it. Rest up and know I wish i could pee like that!

donna furse said...

All I want to do right now is give you a big hug, you did amazing and even though you had a few missteps you crushed such a hard course ( I hated the run and was just as delirious at the finish as you were) I was just lucky I didn't have to leave for a few hours and was able to hydrate and rest before sitting on the plane. I can't wait for you to crush the REV and IMCDA and what great practice for a hot race in October.

Michelle Simmons said...

OMG. What a nightmare!!! I mean, it sounds like, except for the extra bit on the run, that you actually had a really decent solid race...So clearly you can take some comfort in that. But to lose your podium spot bc of a mistake like that is heart breaking!! Well, better than losing a Kona spot because of it so better to learn and make the mistakes now than next month! Ok, recover well so you can start hitting it again for the final build!

LDub said...

reading that RR was like watching Meet the Parents....so entertaining, but PAINFUL to watch.

i feel horrible for you! this race definitely got all that shit out of the way for CDA.

great race nonetheless! CONGRATS!!!!

p.s. the woman im doign CDA with is also directionally challenged and it has made our training so much more entertaining (and longer of course)

Swimming for ME said...

Oh Mar... I can just see you standing there staring at the black water spacing out getting your bearings. But jeez you are so incredibly fast. I am so sorry about that last turn. But you are still fast and people still love you! LOL about Dopey parking lot. Did you at least beat the white Volvo guy? xxoo

mjcaron said...

I can't believe they made you run on grass. That sucks! I feel bad that you were crying. Not good. You should have had a better race. I'm pissed for you. :) However you over came a lot! You are very tough. Directionally challenged or not: )

Kim said...

so a few good things.
1. you crushed it. regardless of running part of a 4th loop and feeling dazed and confused.
2. look at your friggin BIKE SPLIT!
3. this race was putting money on the bank. the bank known as CdA - when that day comes, you will dominate.
4. YOU are a fast, slim, strong woman (maybe not tanned!) - YOU intimidate folks like ME!!!

hold your head high and be proud of yourself. we are all so proud of you out here in bloggerland. xoxo

Pining for Pinterest said...

That is horrible! I would have been so pissed at the end just like you!!! Way to go on your rankings :) Have a great day!

Regina said...

Wow, wow, wow. It will be of little consolation as you are light years ahead of me in triathlon, but I think you did amazing especially as a northerner in that heat! (I have read some other RRs on this race). I'd also say that you still have a finish you can be supremely proud of. Although I do understand the angst of your missed turn.

Despite it all, you are a real mental trooper.

I am fascinated by your remark about peeing in your wetsuit (before actually beginning the race). It isn't a gross fascination, just sort or an "ah ha, why not" kind of thing. I'll be packing that information for my first HIM...very.....soon....

Your splits for each event are so fast; as a women in her 40's I am doubly impressed (I am 42). I say Well done!!! Congratulations!

Unknown said...

Nice report! Actually two things, I get lost in every other race I do! Second, I love the swearing!! It's real!
Recover well!

Anonymous said...

oh Mary! 1. Amazing, amazing work. I am continually in awe. 2. If you are directionally challenged, how do you handle following a cue sheet for 100+ miles of training rides? Or do you just ride and let yourself get lost? I'm really curious, actually. 3. I am SO sorry about the run. I don't think it's that uncommon to get stupid during a run- I think it means that you were really pushing yourself, between your body using its muscles and cool itself and your brain to focus on working hard, that keeping track of the surroundings got to be a little much. And now you know, if you didn't already, that you CAN keep on running when things are physically really bad... but hopefully you won't have to end up delirious or lost again.

trailmomma said...

Great report! I could feel your frustration as you went on the 4th loop. Still, awesome amazing job. Your kids are proud no doubt!

Also, for some reason, this post had me laughing and I needed that. So thank you.

Ange said...

You must have been really comfy in that coat down there in that nasty heat!
OUCh on the blister.
And I 2nd what they all said--you worked you butt off and did great in a tough situation. Heat, humidity, no familar faces at the race, and Grass! (I hate grass..)
Put the mistake behind you, and move on. :)

Judi said...

mary mary - omg, you had an AWESOME bike!!! such a HUGE improvement. for that alone you should be proud. i know you wont fuck up at IMLP. good job woman. xo.

Tricia said...

"Plus I will probably beat you today." Love it!
Sorry for all of the crap you dealt with, but you are still awesome.
YOU are the woman that I see at races and get intimidated!!!

Jessica said...

That has to be on the funniest most entertaining posts I have read in awhile. I have totally been there....you had a great race amongst it all.

GetBackJoJo said...

Thanks, all. This is why blogging is so great.. I appreciate the support very much!!
@Kristin. THE iPHONE. I bring my iphone and check it frequently using the GPS. I also plan my routes very carefully -and always only add on to each ride a little bit of what I don't know. Does that make sense? So I have a core route--and I add or subtract with new little blips, so that not too much of a ride is ever very new. Also, I leave myself at least two extra hours on almost every ride in case of getting lost (and I usually use a big chunk of that time.) That's how I deal. :)