Cal.E., the warden, Lucia, and her puppy are headed back to Houston from West Texas. I will call Cal.E. and see how things are going.
C.: Number eight is great. Number eight is the greatest of the great. Yea number eight!
d.: Cal.E., what are you doing?
C.: Today is Thanksgiving. That means football. I was just singing the praises of the Texans' quarterback, David Carr. He is number eight!
d.: Cal.E., the Texans traded David Carr a long time ago, then he retired. He has nothing to do with the Texans anymore. Besides, the Texans don't play today. You must wait until Sunday to see them play again.
C.: I did NOT know either of those things. And, do you mean the Texans traded the greatest quarterback of all time? Why?
d.: He was not doing well in Houston. Both he and the Texans needed a fresh start. He did earn a Super Bowl ring, though, as Eli Manning's backup when he played for the New York Giants.
C.: At least I will get to watch my favorite team play, then. We should be home by Sunday. Then, I can watch the Texans scratch and claw their way to the Super Bowl. When they do, they will be playing in the game when they announce that my favorite player is a finalist for the Pro Football Hall of Fame. That would be COOL!
d.: I do NOT think that either of those things will happen this year, (if ever) Cal.E. I DO like your optimism and team spirit, though.
C.: You know how optimistic and agreeable cats are, d.c. I was just being myself.
d.: Okay, Cal.E. Sure. I guess I will see you when y'all get home. Have a safe trip!
And now, chapter twenty-one of "Beyond the Thirteenth Mile; The Iron Man Chronicles
CHAPTER 21: THIRTEEN DAYS (LIVING LIFE IN FAST FORWARD) Run course; Mile twenty: I am REALLY tired. This course is pushing me to my absolute limit, both mentally and physically. I thought that TRAINING for doing this was brutal. I guess sometimes one must live his life in fast forward to be ready for something THIS challenging, just as in real life when the “rubber meets the road,” so to speak. I will NOT think about that film clip of Julie Moss on ABC’s Wide World of sports or the story of how Chris Leigh cratered less than one hundred yards from the finish line in Hawaii. I DO hope, though, that I don’t have to pull a “Bill Bell'' and dive for the finish line to cross it before the time limit expires… ****************************************************************** Everyone who has ever seen more than one episode of ABC's "Wide World of Sports" is familiar with the film clips of Julie Moss, leading the February, 1982 Hawaiian Ironman, collapsing within sight of the finish line. After several failed attempts to get back on her feet and start running again, Moss swallows her pride and crawls across the finish line on her hands and knees. She is passed two steps from crossing the finish line in first place. This happens just as Jim McKay’s voice declares, "and the agony of defeat." Most of us have seen this particular film clip and can relate to it on some level. Fewer of us, however, are familiar with the film clips of Chris Leigh. After leading for the whole Hawaiian Ironman, Leigh collapsed 100 yards from the finish line, totally exhausted. He never even finished the race (thus destroying his hopes of winning it). Another obscure film clip shows Bill Bell diving for the finish line, competing in the Hawaiian IronMan, touching it with one finger. Bell did this less than two minutes after the seventeen-hour time limit had expired. His gallant effort went for naught, though. An official ruling that year not to allow his dramatic finish to count in the record books kept Bell from bettering by one year his own personal record of being the oldest person to have ever crossed the finish line in Kona, and have it count in the record book. His reward was to have a DNF placed beside his name, indicating that he did not finish the course in the allowed amount of time. Such images haunt a tired triathlete's sleeping and resting periods. In the back of a competitor's mind, when faced with such brutal realisms, most of us think, “Those people just didn't train quite hard enough. If I just try a little bit harder, or train a little longer, or race smarter (more efficiently), none of those things will happen to ME." The reality is, though, we are all vulnerable to failure. Thirteen days before my third attempt at completing a one-half Ironman distance triathlon, however, I knew that I had trained sufficiently. In fact, a mere one month before, coming off of my bike at the ''Ride for the Roses," I felt like a two-year-old bull beginning to “feel his oats." Now, however, my legs felt as if they had led in them, and my shoulders and feet were sore, which is unusual for not having done a race or a long ride for three or four weeks. ***************************************************************** There is a period in my work schedule (the first 3-4 months of the year) that is called a "rush period." My oldest sister once asked me what that term meant. ‘'It’s the period of time when you rush to get to work, then you rush to get your work done, then you rush home so that you can get enough sleep to complete another thirteen or fourteen-hour day," I said. ‘'Oh," said my sibling, the mother of three, as well as a nurse, “that sounds like every day of my life." ***************************************************************** Thirteen days before my third one-half IronMan distance triathlon, it hit me-for the last three years, I had been “living life in fast forward," like my older sister. Neither of us was resting long enough to recover from fatigue until it would manifest itself in the form of a sinus infection, a migraine headache, or in my case, an overuse injury suffered in training, such as planter's fasciitis or a shoulder impingement. Realizing this, I seriously doubted that 13 days was enough time to undo what it had taken three years to do. Even if I didn't do anything but walk quickly in a training “run ”for two weeks, I doubted that my legs would recover in time to have any spring in them for the race. Add to the equation the ever-present nagging doubts about being undertrained or ill prepared (especially for a race that requires a long, open water swim). Beyond that, how does one find a balance between a demanding work schedule, spending time with one's family, and training enough to complete a long race? My mind was as tired as my legs were! To add to the stress, I had unknowingly signed up for a race that was Mother's Day weekend, 500 miles from Brazos, and Nicole couldn't go. I cut back on my training schedule over the next two weeks, limiting the amount of running I did and cutting back on the distances I swam in the pool and rode on my bike as well. I also stopped lifting weights altogether. Limiting my training gave me time to take care of the more important things in my life and eased my mind a little bit. However, two days before the race (on the ride to Florida with two of my training companions) my legs still felt weary. I also thought about the fact that I hadn't really swum in the ocean for two to three years. All of the open water swimming that I had done recently had been in a lake. Since the swim portion of the race was in the Gulf of Mexico, self-doubt set in. Then, I discovered that I had forgotten two very important things. My swim goggles, and my USAT card (my ticket into the race). I bought a one-day pass for the race and purchased a new pair of goggles at the exposition. I also purchased a new wetsuit, one for which I had been looking for six months hence. A couple of practice swims renewed my confidence in my open water swimming abilities. The new suit helped my buoyancy, and a short bike ride with my two companions not only made me feel better but also gave me an idea. “My strength is in the bike leg," I thought, "so, why hold back? I'll end up walking a mile or two on the run course, so it doesn't matter whether it's the first two miles or the last two." Changing one's goggles and wetsuit as well as one's strategy the day before a race isn't the best idea in the world, but in this particular instance, it worked. I had a good swim for me, coming out of the water in just over 40 minutes. I averaged about nineteen miles per hour on the bike. This speed was not quite as fast as I'd hoped, but it was a decent speed. I felt great as I started on the run course. However, I had made two critical mistakes. First, I ate too late on the bike, only remembering after eating the last power bar that I had thrown the last one away the year before in Lubbock at the Buffalo Springs Lake triathlon. Secondly, I started the run too fast, after standing in line for the restroom in the transition area for five minutes. My original plan was to try to average a ten-minute-per-mile pace on the run course. This pace would have put me at the finish line in less than six hours, beating my goal time significantly. However, I started the run course in a bit of a rush, being in a state of euphoria. My first mile went by in under eight minutes, my usual pace on a ten-kilometer run. I tried to slow down for the next two miles, but my heart rate was already elevated, and my brain was releasing endorphins at a phenomenal rate. This resulted in an eight-and-one-half minute pace for the first three miles. I could feel my stomach start to churn. Up to the turn-around point, I mistakenly thought that I could run through nausea, but I had no such luck. I had to walk for about three miles, allowing one of my companions to pass me, even though he had started in the swim wave behind me. I recovered at the twelve-mile mark, running under the finish line wire in six hours and twenty-two minutes, seven minutes over my aggressive goal. (I always set two goals, one for the best I think I can do, and one for what I know that I'm capable of doing). As I crossed over the finish line, a medical volunteer supported my weight as my head began to spin from nausea. A short trip to the medical tent, where a watered-down blanket and a cool drink helped cool me off, and I was none the worse for wear. I finished pretty far down in the standings, this race being the southeastern U.S.'s long course championship triathlon race, but I was still satisfied with my time. After all, I was trying to set myself up to peak in late October, so that I would be at my best for the Iron Man Triathlon. Races give you the opportunity to slow down, catch your breath, or even quit if you so desire. Real-life, however, offers no such refuge. Back in Brazos, with my house up for sale, the weather getting hotter, and everyday life with a family, in general, being in full force without stopping, I was busier than a one-armed wallpaper hanger. Deep down, I longed for the sanctuary of another race day.
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