Musselman had been a long time coming for me. I was originally supposed to do this last year as my first half, and instead of making the trip last year, I ended up having surgery instead. But I was really looking forward to the race this year, even though I have been feeling like I was going to throw up at the mere thought for the last month or so. I knew that the training was there...but after DNF'ing at B2B last year, it seemed like this distance was my kryptonite. And apparently, it still is.
Over the past couple of days, I've heard a lot of people refer to the swim as being really rough, with a lot of waves. Call me crazy, but I was kind of having a really good time on the swim. Rolling with the waves, and laughing when I had grass stuck to my face. That is, until about 200 meters to go. I had been feeling fine all weekend, and enjoying the cleaner air that Geneva had to offer, but I started to realize that I was having problems breathing. I've had asthma for a few years (basically my entire life), and haven't had many problems lately. In fact, all of this crazy endurance training has helped a great deal. (If you really want to know how much it's helped, I can share more details, let's just say, it's significant) But every once in a while, it sticks its foot out in front of me, and I land on my face. Cut to the boat dock at Musselman, and I'm there "standing" and clawing at the back of my wetsuit trying to get free, gasping for breathe.
Somehow, someone got me out of my wetsuit, and sat down. And I vaguely remember Alexis and Marta sitting with me. And finally someone stuck an inhaler in my face. The next 30 minutes or so are basically a big blur, but Marta helped me into transition once I could stand, and I'm pretty sure if I were able to see a video (I pray that none actually exist) I would laugh at her attempt to get me out of my wetsuit and into my bike gear. I also must admit that I felt ridiculous getting into my bike gear, because I was sure my day was over. I was already very close to the swim cut off time, and I still was having problems breathing. But there I sat, in my bike gear. Looking ridiculous.
At this point, there were a lot of people around, everyone was asking what I was going to do, and I still couldn't think straight. There's a bit of a claustrophobia thing that happens...and I needed to get away from everyone's questions. So I did the one thing I could to have a second to myself. I went to the port-o-loo. (Anyone else see the irony here?)
And when I came out, I decided I'd take up Ed's offer of turning in my chip and riding the bike course, unofficially. Adele had graciously offered to ride with me. And by that time, we had recruited Kerry to join us too. Iwan gave us a fabulous TDF worthy start...and 58 miles, and 6 hours later, we roll back in. I'm going for a bit of brevity for this, so I won't go into all of the gory details because we finished the ride, and that's the main point. Never mind the fact that my font brake fell off about a minute before the big hill/right turn combo (good timing there!) or that I realized I am REALLY horrible at math. Apparently 23 + 23 doesn't equal 56. Who knew! You know that map with all of the winery's along the bike course... :)
The entire bike ride, I had it in my head that I came to NY to finish 70.3 miles, and by God, that's what I was going to do. I didn't have a doubt that no matter what time we rolled back in, or how long it took, I was going to get those miles in. So at 4pm, Kerry and I headed out on the run course, after MANY warnings about the heat, and staying hydrated, we agreed to only walk along the lake, and do the 5K course multiple times. It was about a mile into the walk that I looked over at Kerry and asked if we were going to admit that we were being idiots yet. The answer, of course, was no. But we finally realized that we really were being kind of stupid. So we told Adele that we'd just make one loop (which turned into about 4.5 miles) and she went back to let everyone know. Mainly, my mother.
We got an incredible welcome back, and my day was finally done.
What I've written so far, is my view of what happened that day. What I've been having a more difficult time writing about is what I have felt about that day. On good race days, I have always been thrilled to be a part of this team. But I think it takes having a bad day, a really bad day, to really see what this team is all about. I have never felt so much love and support than I did that day. From Alexis and Marta (and whoever else I'm missing) who immediately jumped in to take care of me when I couldn't breathe, to Ed telling me that it was ok, and everyone would still be there whenever I finished. From Mary (yes, even at a distance) being the little angel on my shoulder saying that the day was only for training. To Adele, who words cannot express how awesome she was to jump in and go for a 56 mile ride because I needed company. Whose main goal for the day was getting us home safely. She is truly the rock star/den mother for the day, and I will never be able to thank everyone enough. You took care of me, and you took care of my parents. And for that, I will be forever grateful.
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