While this can't actually be called a "race report," (as so few of my reports can actually be called) we will, instead, call this an "event report."
Never in my life has one single event caused so many nightmares - true nightmares - including waking up in a panic, unable to breathe, and immediately checking to make sure that Cedric was still in one piece. I even blame Ironman for several work inspired nightmares. So, to say the least, I knew my subconscious was aware that this was a huge freaking deal.
(May I make a side note here that the coffee maker in our hotel is the slowest I have ever encountered? Because it's ridiculously slow, and anything impeding the intake of coffee should be shot)
The last 24 hours have sucked. There's no other way to describe it. They sucked. Big time.
I have always had a tendency to get cold extremely easy. I literally turn purple in 60 degree weather if I'm not dressed appropriately. And it is difficult, and often takes extreme measures for me to get warm again. In fact, even since we have been in Arizona, I have been bundled up in warm clothes, and still feel the chill. And it's been 70 degrees. But even looking at other people in tank tops and shorts makes me shiver when I'm feeling chilled. One would look at me and think that I have enough insulation that this wouldn't be a problem, but even when I weighed nearly 300 pounds, I still had this issue (though, admittedly, not as bad). But my mom is often the same way, so I'm blaming her bad genes.
Knowing this, I knew that a 2.4 mile swim in 61 degree water was not going to be fun. But I had survived a 1.2 miles swim in 63 degree weather less than 2 months ago. I had neoprene booties, and a full wetsuit, so I was as prepared as I am going to be. There is the option of a neoprene cap, but that has a chin strap, and my asthma often manifests in my throat, and having the extra constriction there is going to cause other problems. Breathe and feel the cold even more, or not breathe and feel slightly less cold. It's the Catch 22 of swimming in cold water. Considering I've already had one asthma attack coming out of the water, I chose breathing as the higher priority for yesterday, and didn't even seriously consider the neoprene cap. Looking back, had I, we'll never know.
So, I jump in the water yesterday morning, and get quite a shock. The water if freezing cold, and feels much colder than 61 degrees. So shocking, it makes me hyperventilate a little bit. And as I'm "swimming" to the start (which really meant that I was doing a half assed job of a side stroke) I try to calm myself down, remind myself to take some deep breathes. So I do, and that works. But then I look up, and see the Team Z coaches. Who surprised us by flying in for the race to support everyone. So then I'm crying. Ya bastards. We yell back and forth, and wave. And before we knew it, it was starting.
Leading up to the event, I reflected on past swims, and I often don't enjoy the swim. I just can't wait to get out of the water. It's not that I really don't like swimming, it's just that I kinda suck at it. I don't have awful form, but I'm just slow. But even with being slow, I had done the math, and if I were to swim my slowest average pace for the entire 2.4 miles (barring any unforeseen incident) I would still make it out of the water with plenty of time to spare. So I really worked on having a conversation with myself (as I occasionally do when I need to really focus on something) and tried to remind myself to enjoy the swim. Enjoy the entire day, but instead of being impatient with the swim, enjoy it.
The first half, this works. I end up towards the back of the pack, which I expected to be there anyway, but, (woohoo!!) I wasn't there alone. I actually rather enjoy the swim course for IMAZ. It's a one loop course, starting under the Mill Ave. Bridge, down to Rural Rd. bridge, past it just a bit, then turn around and swim back. Simple enough. I get under the Rural Rd. bridge, and one of the kayakers tells me we're at 52 minutes, which means I'm right on pace. But I swear, getting to the turn buoy, and then across the lake took FOREVER! It was against the current, and it pissed me off a little. So once I got to the turn buoy heading back down the lake, I stopped for a breather. A few seconds later, and I was swimming again, thinking I was doing really good because now we were swimming with the current.
But this is were I really started feeling cold. My hands were completely numb, and my feet, even through the neoprene booties, were almost as bad as my hands. So I stopped again, and hung on to a kayak. The guy in the kayak was very nice. Asked my name, where I was from, so I told him. And because I thought he was being nice, I asked his name too. It was Garret. It wasn't until I started swimming again that I remembered something Robin told us at the BBQ the day before about her stint as a volunteer at the finish line. Ask the participants their names and where they are from as an indicator if they need medical attention or not. And I realized that's what he was doing to me! But I knew my name, and where I was from, so we're all good.
One of the things I like about being at the back of the pack swimming is you get your own personal escort back to the finish. Sometimes 2 or 3. You get company, and sighting is a breeze. One of the guys on a paddle board kept talking to me as I was swimming, and kept letting me know how much time I had, and was supportive, kept telling me that I had good form, my breathing looked good, etc.
But I was getting really cold. And I knew that I was going to be cutting it close to the swim cut off. So I prepared myself on the swim back. If you don't make the swim cut off, it's ok. Go back to the hotel, shower, and come back and cheer for everyone else. But you WILL keep moving forward until they take your chip. Towards the end of the swim, in the few lucid moments that I had, I was so miserable, I was actually going to be really upset if I did make the swim cut off.
I'm not exactly sure where I was when things started going south, and fast. I know it was on the swim back. And I know at that point I had either a paddle boarder or a kayak on each side of me. And I know that there were other people out there with me still swimming. But things got really fuzzy for me. I was tired, and I don't think I realized at the time how tired I was, and how much that was slowing me down. At one point, I remember breathing, and turning my head to site, but not being able to because I realized my eyes were closed. But I kept moving forward. Because that has (apparently) been ingrained in my brain. You keep moving forward no matter what happens. So I kept swimming. And on the turn back to the dock, everyone was yelling and cheering for us. My kayaker kept yelling my number, telling me to pull and dig deep. At least I think that's what they were saying.
I get to the bottom of the stairs, and there is a volunteer there to help us get out of the water. And he literally had to pull me out of the water because I couldn't help myself at all. I think it was someone else (as I said, things are a little fuzzy) and I basically collapsed against him, and leans down and tells me that I didn't make it. I shake my head, and they carry me up the stairs. Realizing that I can't hold myself upright, they sit me down on the steps and take half of my wetsuit off. One of the medical volunteers comes up to sit next to me, asks how I'm doing and I just remember saying "cold" over and over. After a couple of minutes, 2 guys walk (drag) me to the warming tent, where they put me in a warm bath, take off the rest of my wetsuit, and make sure I'm not close to death. Which is pretty much how I felt at the time.
I have to say, the medical volunteers and staff there are top notch. One volunteer sat with me, and I kept telling her that they had to tell my mom I was ok. I knew that she would be worried, and I didn't want her to get upset. She'd been through Musselman with me, and I knew that if she had another experience like that, I'd never get her to another race again. So she asked what my mom was wearing, went out twice to find her, with no success. Which made me even more worried. But I was also still really freaking cold. While in the warm bath, my hands felt like I was getting stabbed with 1000 needles, which made me want to pull them out of the water, but they kept telling me to stay in the bath. Until another old guy came in the warming tent, and one of their ideas was to put us in the warm bath together. Uhh...no thank you. So I willingly moved to one of the cots they had set up, and they wrapped me up like a burrito. And then I started shivering. I'm not sure how long it took to start feeling better, but, to me, it was faster than I expected. So I get wrapped up in a couple of mylar blankets (because all I was wearing at the time were my tri shorts and a sports bra) and I walk out of the tent, and there are my parents waiting for me. I walk over, and put my head on my mom's shoulder, and I tell them that I didn't make it. Then I ask my mom if she would be really mad if I wanted to try this again sometime. Her answer was "let's not talk about this right now." She wasn't mad though (whew) and by the end of the day, she mentioned how doing IMAZ again wouldn't be so bad because it's well organized and it's easy for spectators to get around. Yeah...she'll be back.
So I walk around, figure out what I need to do, which is get my gear bags, turn in my chip, and then I'm free. So I do that, and I tell the parents that I want to go back to the hotel, shower, and come back and cheer. They agree, so we head back to the hotel.
As I was getting my gear bags, one of the volunteers came up to me and asked if she could give me a hug. I agree, and she told me that she was proud of me for just getting out there. I had been doing ok in the not crying department, but I really almost lost it right there.
So I showered, realized that I had more wetsuit hickeys than I originally thought, and got dressed to head back out to the race. The only other time I almost lost it was when we first saw the bike course. I teared up. But I was there to cheer. So I did. I think the best moment was on the run course, I saw Nicholas, and the look of shock on his face when he saw me on the sidelines was just a little funny. But by this time, I was still cold. Everyone around me was, at most, wearing a long sleeve shirt, or a light jacket. I had on 3 shirts (2 made out of wicking material) and a fleece jacket. And I was still shivering. And beyond that, I was drained. My mom has always told me she knew when I was younger when I was faking being sick because she can always tell in my eyes how I'm feeling. And yesterday evening, I wasn't doing so well. So our day was done. On one hand, I'm disappointed that I didn't get to see everyone finish. But at the same time, I don't think I could have handled seeing everyone else finish when I didn't get to join them.
There are many days that I feel like I do a better job at being a cheerleader than I do a participant. Which also makes me wonder why, after the year that I've had, I still want to do this. I think the best answer is that I don't want to quit. I have this goal, and yesterday just wasn't my day. This year wasn't my year. But I don't want to quit. As one of my friend's said yesterday "you'll fight another day." And I will.
But for right now, I need some time. (But not too much...Cedar Point is next September)
Monday, November 21, 2011
Friday, November 18, 2011
"Vacation" - Week 1
The parents and I have finally arrived in Arizona. Last night, in fact. And before 10am this morning, had you asked me how I was feeling about race day, I wouldn't have had a very good answer. If anything, the answer would have been something close to "blah." But at 10am, we got to the race location, and as soon as I saw the first tent with "Ironman" written on it, the nerves definitely started kicking in.
But let's back track just a bit. I've been supposed to be enjoying time off from work the past week, and I was looking forward to having some time off work, and expected to be bored out of my mind sitting around my parents house. But I was back home, and was able to see friends that I get to see once a year, so my time was kept quite busy. In fact, I couldn't believe it's already time for me to be in Arizona.
Vacation actually started off with a wedding, where the other original member of the singles girls club got married, leaving me on my own in that particular club. The wedding was lovely. I was the only single person in attendance above the age of 25. And despite the best efforts of the bride, I didn't actually catch the bouquet. Whew, dodged a bullet on that one.
So...hanging out with my BFF...awesome. We ate at the greasy spoon that we grew up loving, despite the fact that they DIDN'T have the cole slaw we so desperately love. Perused Kohl's. And got smoothies from the ridiculously awesome, hipster coffee shop that is admittedly the exception to awesome things found in Middle America.
My dad also took me 4-wheeler riding through the woods down the road (from the middle of nowhere) from our house. And the first thing I thought when I saw the trails is that it would make a ridiculously awesome trail run. So, if anyone would like a challenge, just go visit my parents.
Then lunch with the girls from college, dinner with my old roommate from DC, and only one teensy, tiny day where I got to stay in my pj's until 2pm. I'm slightly disappointed with that fact, but am happy that I was able to see so many people that I only get to see once a year.
And now we're in Arizona. Prepping for Ironman Arizona.
I checked in this morning, got my packet, etc. And I perused the Ironman Store. I'm typically pretty superstitious about not buying anything before the big race that says anything to do with actually doing the race, or finishing the race. But I broke that today. They have this shirt, where they created the M-dot out of all the participants name. And it's pretty awesome. So, I bought it. And let's face it, my superstition hasn't really gotten me too far in the past, so perhaps, the mere fact that I bought something with the stupid races name on it might give me the motivation to actually, you know, finish. (I did, however, almost buy my niece a shirt that said "Support Team" on it, with the "m" of team being the m-dot...I haven't yet, but plan to. And I think my brother and sister-in-law may appreciate that over the shirt that says "When I Grow Up I Want to be an Ironman.")
I have to say, I did have a few, not so brief, moments while at the expo today...where I was wondering what the hell I was doing there. I totally don't fit in. I was feeling a little self-conscious about not really looking like an Ironman. Or at least nothing like the people standing around me do.
This is definitely a unique experience. You sign away the rights to your life (basically). You hand over the most expensive possession that you own to complete strangers. And you make your loved ones stand around waiting for you for an entire day. And they willing do this because they love you. But beyond that, you're the rock star. You're the one that the day is all about. The little bracelet on your wrist, that you will no doubt wear for weeks after the race is actually over, is status. You are the Ironman to be. You've been training for this day for a year. And now the day is finally here (almost). People cater to your needs, and give you anything you want or need. The thought, well, it just makes me pause.
But I guess it's a little too late to turn back now, so it appears that I'll be racing on Sunday. Then maybe I'll be able to enjoy the second week of my vacation.
But let's back track just a bit. I've been supposed to be enjoying time off from work the past week, and I was looking forward to having some time off work, and expected to be bored out of my mind sitting around my parents house. But I was back home, and was able to see friends that I get to see once a year, so my time was kept quite busy. In fact, I couldn't believe it's already time for me to be in Arizona.
Vacation actually started off with a wedding, where the other original member of the singles girls club got married, leaving me on my own in that particular club. The wedding was lovely. I was the only single person in attendance above the age of 25. And despite the best efforts of the bride, I didn't actually catch the bouquet. Whew, dodged a bullet on that one.
So...hanging out with my BFF...awesome. We ate at the greasy spoon that we grew up loving, despite the fact that they DIDN'T have the cole slaw we so desperately love. Perused Kohl's. And got smoothies from the ridiculously awesome, hipster coffee shop that is admittedly the exception to awesome things found in Middle America.
My dad also took me 4-wheeler riding through the woods down the road (from the middle of nowhere) from our house. And the first thing I thought when I saw the trails is that it would make a ridiculously awesome trail run. So, if anyone would like a challenge, just go visit my parents.
Then lunch with the girls from college, dinner with my old roommate from DC, and only one teensy, tiny day where I got to stay in my pj's until 2pm. I'm slightly disappointed with that fact, but am happy that I was able to see so many people that I only get to see once a year.
And now we're in Arizona. Prepping for Ironman Arizona.
I checked in this morning, got my packet, etc. And I perused the Ironman Store. I'm typically pretty superstitious about not buying anything before the big race that says anything to do with actually doing the race, or finishing the race. But I broke that today. They have this shirt, where they created the M-dot out of all the participants name. And it's pretty awesome. So, I bought it. And let's face it, my superstition hasn't really gotten me too far in the past, so perhaps, the mere fact that I bought something with the stupid races name on it might give me the motivation to actually, you know, finish. (I did, however, almost buy my niece a shirt that said "Support Team" on it, with the "m" of team being the m-dot...I haven't yet, but plan to. And I think my brother and sister-in-law may appreciate that over the shirt that says "When I Grow Up I Want to be an Ironman.")
I have to say, I did have a few, not so brief, moments while at the expo today...where I was wondering what the hell I was doing there. I totally don't fit in. I was feeling a little self-conscious about not really looking like an Ironman. Or at least nothing like the people standing around me do.
This is definitely a unique experience. You sign away the rights to your life (basically). You hand over the most expensive possession that you own to complete strangers. And you make your loved ones stand around waiting for you for an entire day. And they willing do this because they love you. But beyond that, you're the rock star. You're the one that the day is all about. The little bracelet on your wrist, that you will no doubt wear for weeks after the race is actually over, is status. You are the Ironman to be. You've been training for this day for a year. And now the day is finally here (almost). People cater to your needs, and give you anything you want or need. The thought, well, it just makes me pause.
But I guess it's a little too late to turn back now, so it appears that I'll be racing on Sunday. Then maybe I'll be able to enjoy the second week of my vacation.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
It's On, Baby
The countdown, that is.
10 days. 10 teeny, tiny days.
And it's been a crazy week. Ok, it's been a crazy 6 months, but the past 2 weeks have been ridiculous. A week ago, I realized that I was editing a cheering guide and compiling a participant list for a race that I'm not even doing...which...if I do say so myself, turned into 64 pages of awesomeness. I haven't been able to completely reign in Ed's stream of consciousness writing style yet, but there are only so many hours in the day, and I'm no miracle worker. But beyond that, I've taken the lead on planning our work Holiday Party. Which has made me want to add "Cat Wrangler" to my job description, if not just completely replacing my job title with that heading. Oh yeah...and I'm still working full time, training for an Ironman, and doing an added amount of stretching/strength training/PT.
As if that weren't enough to make a person go insane, or just pass out with exhaustion...something was...off. And had been for a while...about 4 weeks to be exact. If you'll recall, that's the time where I got hurt, and couldn't work out as much. For a while, I thought that was the cause. I was tired all the time, I was in a bad mood, or if I wasn't in a bad mood, I just didn't feel like myself. I didn't feel like doing anything. There were days were just laying on the couch seemed like the only thing my body was physically capable of doing.
Some might say that such a break was well warranted. And they would probably be right. But it just wasn't...me.
3 days ago, I had a breaking point. On Sunday, I didn't do anything. I was a hermit, and I laid on the couch and did absolutely nothing all day long. On Monday, I knew I hadn't slept well the night before (we'll get to that in a bit) but I was exhausted all day long. Extremely exhausted. To the point where I was neurotically searching online for possible causes for such extreme fatigue. Yes, it's also slightly hypochondria-ish. But something was wrong. I went home Monday evening, and again, did nothing. I laid on the couch for about an hour, and then went to bed. At 6:30pm. 10 and a half hours later, I wake up, and I have an epiphany. In all of my research, one of the causes always listed was a reaction to medicine. Do we remember what also happened a month ago? I got put on new asthma medicine. So I look up possible side effects. DING DING DING!!! We have a winner. Possible side effects: Adrenal Fatigue, Extreme tiredness, depression. It wasn't a medicine I was supposed to be on for a long period of time, just long enough to get my lungs opened up, so I immediately stopped taking the medicine. And guess what...immediately I started feeling better. So now, 3 days post medicine, things are starting to feel normal again. In fact, yesterday afternoon, I was hyper. And I'd only had 2 cups of coffee yesterday. And I was hyper. It was a wonderful feeling. I'm still tired, but back to a much more normal level of tiredness. And I can function, which is...you know...kind of important :)
After I stopped taking the meds, and went back to normal human being-ish-ness, I actually had a conversation about what's been going on with me, and my friends are so nice and put up with me. We even talked about some of my reactions lately. And they even noticed changes in my personality with how I reacted to a few things. Not that my reaction was abnormal, but how...extreme...was abnormal. So, hopefully all of that has now stopped, and the normal, happy, hyperactive, refusing to lay on the couch me has returned.
Now it's time to talk about freaking out.
History tells us that I have horrible race jitters. I get nervous, I get cranky, and I'm not pleasant to deal with. But I've never had nightmares before. Sunday evening saw a panic attack where I was concerned about not making the swim cut off. Tuesday morning, I did some math, my *favorite* thing to do, and I'm more calm. I now know that even if I swim my slowest average pace, I'll beat the swim cut off, with time to spare. Barring any other unforeseen misadventure. So, I was much more calm.
Last night, or rather, 1:30am, I woke up because there was some weird, random, very loud ringing going on around my apartment. I have no idea what it was, but it sounded like some type of alarm. It kept me up for a while, and somehow I managed to drift back to sleep. But the craziness brought about a very strange...dream...nightmare...whatever you want to call it. The alarm (in my dream) prompted me to leave my apartment, and when I got back to my apartment, the Building Engineer in my building was in my apartment, had my bed out in the hallway, and was cleaning up in my apartment. Confused about why my bed was in the hallway, I go in, and ask what happened. Apparently, right after I left, the radiator in my apartment blew up, wreaking havoc in my apartment. And it broke Cedric (my bike) in half. I was distraught. My bike is getting picked up tomorrow...what am I to do??? The Building Engineer tells me not to worry, I have time tomorrow to go get a new bike. I'm not sure who was paying for the bike, or where I was going, but it could happen. Then I was distraught that I would have to race IMAZ on a brand new bike. Oh no!
The dream basically ended there. Or, at least, that part of the dream. My brother and sis-in-law, I'm sure, will be happy to hear that the rest of the dream was about visiting them...as they're about to have twins. And that's not true (to my knowledge).
So, anyway...we have the swim freak out covered. We now have the bike freak out covered. I'm just wondering what my convoluted brain is going to come up with to make me freak out about the run. I've never freaked out about running before, so this could potentially be quite hilarious.
And, despite the fright that Cedric's demise could potentially bring about, my dream has actually amused me. I've been laughing about it all morning. It's just such a ridiculous prospect, that you just have to laugh.
So, to that, I say...bring it on, baby.
10 days. 10 teeny, tiny days.
And it's been a crazy week. Ok, it's been a crazy 6 months, but the past 2 weeks have been ridiculous. A week ago, I realized that I was editing a cheering guide and compiling a participant list for a race that I'm not even doing...which...if I do say so myself, turned into 64 pages of awesomeness. I haven't been able to completely reign in Ed's stream of consciousness writing style yet, but there are only so many hours in the day, and I'm no miracle worker. But beyond that, I've taken the lead on planning our work Holiday Party. Which has made me want to add "Cat Wrangler" to my job description, if not just completely replacing my job title with that heading. Oh yeah...and I'm still working full time, training for an Ironman, and doing an added amount of stretching/strength training/PT.
As if that weren't enough to make a person go insane, or just pass out with exhaustion...something was...off. And had been for a while...about 4 weeks to be exact. If you'll recall, that's the time where I got hurt, and couldn't work out as much. For a while, I thought that was the cause. I was tired all the time, I was in a bad mood, or if I wasn't in a bad mood, I just didn't feel like myself. I didn't feel like doing anything. There were days were just laying on the couch seemed like the only thing my body was physically capable of doing.
Some might say that such a break was well warranted. And they would probably be right. But it just wasn't...me.
3 days ago, I had a breaking point. On Sunday, I didn't do anything. I was a hermit, and I laid on the couch and did absolutely nothing all day long. On Monday, I knew I hadn't slept well the night before (we'll get to that in a bit) but I was exhausted all day long. Extremely exhausted. To the point where I was neurotically searching online for possible causes for such extreme fatigue. Yes, it's also slightly hypochondria-ish. But something was wrong. I went home Monday evening, and again, did nothing. I laid on the couch for about an hour, and then went to bed. At 6:30pm. 10 and a half hours later, I wake up, and I have an epiphany. In all of my research, one of the causes always listed was a reaction to medicine. Do we remember what also happened a month ago? I got put on new asthma medicine. So I look up possible side effects. DING DING DING!!! We have a winner. Possible side effects: Adrenal Fatigue, Extreme tiredness, depression. It wasn't a medicine I was supposed to be on for a long period of time, just long enough to get my lungs opened up, so I immediately stopped taking the medicine. And guess what...immediately I started feeling better. So now, 3 days post medicine, things are starting to feel normal again. In fact, yesterday afternoon, I was hyper. And I'd only had 2 cups of coffee yesterday. And I was hyper. It was a wonderful feeling. I'm still tired, but back to a much more normal level of tiredness. And I can function, which is...you know...kind of important :)
After I stopped taking the meds, and went back to normal human being-ish-ness, I actually had a conversation about what's been going on with me, and my friends are so nice and put up with me. We even talked about some of my reactions lately. And they even noticed changes in my personality with how I reacted to a few things. Not that my reaction was abnormal, but how...extreme...was abnormal. So, hopefully all of that has now stopped, and the normal, happy, hyperactive, refusing to lay on the couch me has returned.
Now it's time to talk about freaking out.
History tells us that I have horrible race jitters. I get nervous, I get cranky, and I'm not pleasant to deal with. But I've never had nightmares before. Sunday evening saw a panic attack where I was concerned about not making the swim cut off. Tuesday morning, I did some math, my *favorite* thing to do, and I'm more calm. I now know that even if I swim my slowest average pace, I'll beat the swim cut off, with time to spare. Barring any other unforeseen misadventure. So, I was much more calm.
Last night, or rather, 1:30am, I woke up because there was some weird, random, very loud ringing going on around my apartment. I have no idea what it was, but it sounded like some type of alarm. It kept me up for a while, and somehow I managed to drift back to sleep. But the craziness brought about a very strange...dream...nightmare...whatever you want to call it. The alarm (in my dream) prompted me to leave my apartment, and when I got back to my apartment, the Building Engineer in my building was in my apartment, had my bed out in the hallway, and was cleaning up in my apartment. Confused about why my bed was in the hallway, I go in, and ask what happened. Apparently, right after I left, the radiator in my apartment blew up, wreaking havoc in my apartment. And it broke Cedric (my bike) in half. I was distraught. My bike is getting picked up tomorrow...what am I to do??? The Building Engineer tells me not to worry, I have time tomorrow to go get a new bike. I'm not sure who was paying for the bike, or where I was going, but it could happen. Then I was distraught that I would have to race IMAZ on a brand new bike. Oh no!
The dream basically ended there. Or, at least, that part of the dream. My brother and sis-in-law, I'm sure, will be happy to hear that the rest of the dream was about visiting them...as they're about to have twins. And that's not true (to my knowledge).
So, anyway...we have the swim freak out covered. We now have the bike freak out covered. I'm just wondering what my convoluted brain is going to come up with to make me freak out about the run. I've never freaked out about running before, so this could potentially be quite hilarious.
And, despite the fright that Cedric's demise could potentially bring about, my dream has actually amused me. I've been laughing about it all morning. It's just such a ridiculous prospect, that you just have to laugh.
So, to that, I say...bring it on, baby.
Monday, November 7, 2011
At This Moment...
...I agree with everyone that ever thought I was crazy for wanting to do an Ironman.
I admit it. I'm a worrier. I come from a long line of worriers. So, at least I come by it honestly. In the past, though not a common occurrence, I have been known to wake up in the middle of the night, so worried about some random topic, I can't get back to sleep. It could be money, work, anything. Then, in the morning, it's normally all better.
Last night, I didn't even have the opportunity to get to sleep before the worry started. Out of no where, I suddenly started freaking out about not making the swim cut off in Arizona. I tried to calm myself down, think the logical things about my swimming ability. That even if I maintain my current, slow pace, I would still make the cut off. I tried thinking about other things. And for well over an hour, not much worked. Though, at one point, I did drift off, only to suddenly be awake, grabbing at my chest, because my heart was racing so much, I feared it was going to jump out of my chest. I feared that even though I know swimming is my weak spot, I hadn't done enough practice, and that I won't get enough long swims in, and even though I've done long swims, it's not the actual distance...blah blah blah crazy talk.
There is a part of me that fears starting, because there is a chance, because there is always a chance, that I will not finish. And after the year that I've had, I'm not sure that I could handle another failure. And I know that isn't the right attitude. I know that starting is half the battle. Getting to the start line is an accomplishment that many people don't even try. And though the race results from this year might not show it, I know that there is a lot of strength, and stubbornness within me. I know that if I get my face in the water, I can finish the swim. I know that if I get out of the water, I can get on my bike. I know that if I get off my bike, I can run or walk or crawl to the finish line.
So, at this moment there is a war going on in my head between the logical side, and the illogical. The logical side tells me that this is going to hurt no matter what, and it's going to hurt for everyone. The logical side tells me that I have done the training, and that our training plans do a lot more than many others do, so even if I have been on the injured reserved list for a month, I should still be fine. The logical side tells me that it's better to get to the starting line healthy, than to have worried about getting all of the miles in. The illogical side just tells me that I'm batshit crazy, and there's a good possibility that I'll die.
I think above anything else, I'm afraid of letting myself down. And I'm really afraid of letting my family and friends down.
I accidentally stumbled across being able to do this sport. I'd heard of it, but I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would ever be able to do it. I probably first heard about Ironman when I was 8 years old. Of course, the race I heard about was Kona. And at that point, I was the little kid who was overweight, and wasn't active, and I basically remained that way for nearly 20 years after that. But there was always a part of me that thought doing an Ironman was the ultimate badass thing to do. It was an unrealistic goal, one that I didn't worry too much about because until 2 years ago, there was no chance in hell I'd ever do one.
And then I met Ed, and the rest of the Team Z crazy's. And they actually made me think that this might actually be possible. Many times over the past year I have thought about, and realized, that I'm living out a life long dream. And then I immediately stopped thinking about it because it freaked me out. It's kind of a huge thing to realize that you're living out something you've been dreaming about since you were a little kid. And I think that, above anything else, is making me freak out even more. Can't this just remain a dream, and never have to worry about it becoming a reality. Maybe say...you know...one day I'll do this?
No...no it can't. Dreams are made to be realized, and one way or another, 13 days from now, or 10 months from now...it must come true. That one day is coming, and it's coming quickly. I'm absolutely scared out of my mind. And there are a multitude of things that could go wrong, in the days leading up to it, and during the race itself.
But 1, just one thing has to go right, and it will change my life forever. I have to trust in myself, and trust in the training, and beyond anything else...just keep moving forward.
So in the mean time, forgive the wild rantings of a crazy woman...
I admit it. I'm a worrier. I come from a long line of worriers. So, at least I come by it honestly. In the past, though not a common occurrence, I have been known to wake up in the middle of the night, so worried about some random topic, I can't get back to sleep. It could be money, work, anything. Then, in the morning, it's normally all better.
Last night, I didn't even have the opportunity to get to sleep before the worry started. Out of no where, I suddenly started freaking out about not making the swim cut off in Arizona. I tried to calm myself down, think the logical things about my swimming ability. That even if I maintain my current, slow pace, I would still make the cut off. I tried thinking about other things. And for well over an hour, not much worked. Though, at one point, I did drift off, only to suddenly be awake, grabbing at my chest, because my heart was racing so much, I feared it was going to jump out of my chest. I feared that even though I know swimming is my weak spot, I hadn't done enough practice, and that I won't get enough long swims in, and even though I've done long swims, it's not the actual distance...blah blah blah crazy talk.
There is a part of me that fears starting, because there is a chance, because there is always a chance, that I will not finish. And after the year that I've had, I'm not sure that I could handle another failure. And I know that isn't the right attitude. I know that starting is half the battle. Getting to the start line is an accomplishment that many people don't even try. And though the race results from this year might not show it, I know that there is a lot of strength, and stubbornness within me. I know that if I get my face in the water, I can finish the swim. I know that if I get out of the water, I can get on my bike. I know that if I get off my bike, I can run or walk or crawl to the finish line.
So, at this moment there is a war going on in my head between the logical side, and the illogical. The logical side tells me that this is going to hurt no matter what, and it's going to hurt for everyone. The logical side tells me that I have done the training, and that our training plans do a lot more than many others do, so even if I have been on the injured reserved list for a month, I should still be fine. The logical side tells me that it's better to get to the starting line healthy, than to have worried about getting all of the miles in. The illogical side just tells me that I'm batshit crazy, and there's a good possibility that I'll die.
I think above anything else, I'm afraid of letting myself down. And I'm really afraid of letting my family and friends down.
I accidentally stumbled across being able to do this sport. I'd heard of it, but I never imagined in my wildest dreams that I would ever be able to do it. I probably first heard about Ironman when I was 8 years old. Of course, the race I heard about was Kona. And at that point, I was the little kid who was overweight, and wasn't active, and I basically remained that way for nearly 20 years after that. But there was always a part of me that thought doing an Ironman was the ultimate badass thing to do. It was an unrealistic goal, one that I didn't worry too much about because until 2 years ago, there was no chance in hell I'd ever do one.
And then I met Ed, and the rest of the Team Z crazy's. And they actually made me think that this might actually be possible. Many times over the past year I have thought about, and realized, that I'm living out a life long dream. And then I immediately stopped thinking about it because it freaked me out. It's kind of a huge thing to realize that you're living out something you've been dreaming about since you were a little kid. And I think that, above anything else, is making me freak out even more. Can't this just remain a dream, and never have to worry about it becoming a reality. Maybe say...you know...one day I'll do this?
No...no it can't. Dreams are made to be realized, and one way or another, 13 days from now, or 10 months from now...it must come true. That one day is coming, and it's coming quickly. I'm absolutely scared out of my mind. And there are a multitude of things that could go wrong, in the days leading up to it, and during the race itself.
But 1, just one thing has to go right, and it will change my life forever. I have to trust in myself, and trust in the training, and beyond anything else...just keep moving forward.
So in the mean time, forgive the wild rantings of a crazy woman...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)