“To know your limits, you have to be willing to test them.”

 -Elizabeth Waterstraat

Full Triathlon, Hunter Mountain, NY

September 22, 2012

 

I’ve been trying to put into words my experience at my full for some time now.  I’ve thought about that day and the physical feat I accomplished each day since then.  I’m not sure that I’ve even been able to fully wrap my head around it yet, or if I ever will.

Originally, the height of my event season was to be a half, which I did in July.  I had such a good day, a great performance and just loved it.  I even PR’d my half marathon time.  After that, I was totally psyched and thought that I might be able to do a full.  I had toyed with the idea before the half but didn’t sign up for anything or commit until after the half.  I wanted to see how I would do, and what I’d feel like afterward.

I waited a full 7days before signing up for Hunter Mountain, which was happening only 8 weeks later.   I figured I should do it now while I was on the fitness train instead of letting my body detrain and then having to invest months and months into training up for it again.  (This is how I justified it to myself and others, anyway.)

So I trained hard, really hard, harder than I ever trained before.   And I loved every minute of it.  I did bike events throughout the state to train. I actually rode out to Lake Waramaug and back in a single day.  Being outside, pedaling or running was absolute bliss.  Although it was tiring and exhausting at times, I loved spending the weekend training.  When I told my daughter to guess the number of miles I rode on the weekend, guesses typically were in the 70’s to 80’s, sometimes 90’s…and she was often right on.  And, she really thought nothing of it, like riding 80 miles and then running 7miles afterward was “normal” or no big deal.  And I think that’s pretty cool.

As the event approached, I became so nervous about it, more nervous than any other event that I’ve ever done.  For me, this was epic; this was the mother of all events.  My mind became filled with self-doubt: did I train enough? Am I ready for this?  Can I go all day from dawn until dark? Would my body hold up? Would I be able to fuel right? Would my stomach cooperate with me, or would I be fighting with it all day?

The planning involved for an all-day event for 3 sports was quite an undertaking.  Food, gear, when and where to meet with my “crew” were all major points of consideration.  I was also trying to figure out, based on my training times, how long it would take me for each sport and then in total.   I also wasn’t sure at first who was going to come with me, if anyone.  My parents were planning on being away; my sister can’t handle that long of a trip or day-long event; and my brother lives out in CA now.  At first I was a sad that my family wouldn’t be there for the biggest event I was partaking in, but I realized that they have been to many, many other events for me to cheer me on and greet me at the finish—which is one of the best feelings in the world.  Logistically I was freaking out, though: how would I get my tired self home afterwards? What would I do with Calah for the weekend?  Fortunately, a running friend of mine, Eric, offered to come and support me.  We weren’t extremely close friends at that point, just really acquaintances from the Wallingford run group.  How would I ask him to watch my 10yr old all day, too, if he came with me?  Well, as with most things, it all worked out.   Eric met Calah a few times before the event, which put both him and Calah at ease.  And it ended up being a wonderful trip and experience for all of us.  (I’ve asked Eric to put together a race/crew report from his perspective, but I have yet to see that!)

Calah got to leave school early (no qualms about that!) on the Friday we drove up.  It seemed she and Eric were just as excited as I was nervous about the event.  The packet pick up, athlete meeting, and hotel (motel?) check-in were fairly uneventful.  The view from our room was gorgeous, and we were greeted by an unleashed beagle and wandering toddler-both of whom thought that coming into our room uninvited was okay-was reinforcement that we were in Cow Town, USA.

Wake up was early and cold.  Just to give you an idea of how cold: I was wearing wind pants, socks and shoes, a long-sleeve t-shirt, a fleece, my down jacket along with gloves and a hat as I set up my transition area in the dark that morning.  I just kept thinking, oh my gosh, I have to take all this off, put on a wetsuit and get into a 60 degree lake!  But I did it.  The sand on the beach was SO cold on my feet.  It was supposed to be a running start from the beach but I just sort of waded in.  When I put my face in the water, it literally took my breath away.  I had to force myself to put my face in to swim.  I got kicked quite a bit, dealt with swimming through lake flora that got caught up in my arms and over my face (unpleasant!), and had to swim faster than I would have liked just to keep warm.   It was pretty difficult coming out on the first lap, knowing that I had to run down the beach for a second.  I couldn’t wait to get out.

I ran up to transition, heady from the cold and the long swim, peeled off my wetsuit and changed into bike gear.  Saying that I was cold would be an understatement.  I was violently shaking, and actually had to use the little benches that were provided to get my socks and bike shoes on.  I was geared up in long pants, long sleeves and a light windbreaker shell along with gloves and a hat under my helmet.  Getting all that on when my motor control was shot made the length of T1 something to be desired.

I managed to shakily get onto my bike and take the bumpy, semi-dirt, potholed access road out to the course.  That first hour on the bike was torture.  My tri suit was wet underneath all that gear and the wind as I descended hills was just excruciating.  I hadn’t eaten anything and by now it had been almost 5 hours since breakfast following a 1.5 hour swim.  I felt my energy waning; I felt my eyes closing as I rode on.  I had to fight to stay focused.  And then, next thing I knew, I was hooked under my handlebars in a squatting position near the wire guardrail.  My first ever bike crash.  Another biker pulled up next to me, sort of helped me to my feet and asked what happened and if I was okay.  He quickly rode away.  I was only 53 minutes into the bike-this was not going well.  I did a quick body scan.  I felt okay, righted my bike, checked my bike quickly, adjusted the front brakes, and had an energy bar.  I clipped back in and rode off.   I was shaken up, for sure, but then it started happening again.  The fatigue was taking over.  I pulled over again, took some electrolytes and a Gu with caffeine.  Within the next 20 to 30 minutes I was feeling tremendously better.

Calah and Eric met me several times along the bike course.  When I started getting tired, I just counted the number of miles until I would see them again.   Calah was always smiling.  Each time they drove off, she would say “I love you, Mommy,” and if I didn’t say it back quickly enough or if I felt too tired to say it, she would say it again, until I responded.  Her love, enthusiasm and smiling face helped carry me when it got really tough.

I don’t remember too much about the bike course.  Lots of climbing, only a small portion of the loop was “flat.”  I remember mile 77 being my lowest point on the bike.  I was feeling like I was riding into the wind the whole time, my knee was hurting and I somehow had to make it to 112 miles!  It was drizzling off and on throughout the day and I was just praying that the predicted thunderstorms would hold off at least until I got to the run.

I managed to make it back to transition within 5 minutes of the time cut-off.  And yes, of all the finishers, I had THE slowest bike time (guess I know what I need to work on!).   My legs were like jell-o when I dismounted, and I said something to the effect of, “Now I just have to do what?”  Oh yeah, that’s right, run a marathon.

I changed into run gear-my T2 was a little bit more respectable-and was out and running.  I felt pretty good, actually.  The run course was nice and hilly and it was a double out and back.  Yuck.   I tried thinking about it positively.  I was able to see other runners as I went back and forth, and I was able to mentally break it down into roughly 6.5mile segments.  By the time I got to mile 15 or 16, the rain was coming down in buckets.  I’m talking sloshing-in-your-shoes, shirt-soaking, water-dripping-off-the-hat-brim kind of rain.  As long as I kept moving, I was okay temperature-wise, but as soon as I slowed or stopped at an aide station, I started getting cold.  The thunder and lightning were right overhead.  I was so close to finishing.  I just wanted to finish.    The lake access road from transition to the paved road was not lighted at all as the RD had promised the day before.  I literally didn’t know if I was on the side of the road, the middle of the road, or if I was going to fall into a pothole and twist my ankle.  It was awful.   I called out “Eric, where are you?” at one point.  Shortly thereafter, I saw him drive by—in the opposite direction.  I didn’t think he would have seen me since it was pitch black out and pouring, but he did turn around and pulled up next to me.  I said, “Jacket, headlamp..anything?”  He gave me his rain jacket since mine doesn’t really do a darn thing, and his headlamp with a broken strap.  Calah turned it on for me and Eric tightened the jacket hood for me as I was bouncing in place and practically running off.  He told me to slow down, but I couldn’t.  I instantly got cold from slowing down.

 

I was off again.   I was greeted and cheered on by Calah and Eric several more times along the run course.  The jacket was too big and was flopping in the wind, and air was going up underneath it, chilling me.  I had my water bottle in one hand and the headlamp/flashlight in the other.   By the last quarter of the run, I was slowing down significantly.  I just couldn’t push any faster.  I got back to the access road and the headlamp died!  At the point when I needed it most, it died.  I thought that if it was mine, I’d just chuck it into the woods.  Maybe I could place it by a mile marker and we could come back to pick it up later.  But the mile markers were on the other side of the road and I was too tired to expend that little bit of energy to cross over and cross back.

Hills, oh the hills.  My legs were so tired.  I felt like I was barely moving up those hills, but I knew that if I stopped to walk, that would be the end of me.  So I pushed on.   I met a nice fellow, Bill, during the last mile-ish, and that was such a big help to be able to chat with someone.  He encouraged me and helped pull me to the finish.  Calah and Eric were waiting for me up ahead.

 

Oh.

My.

Gosh.

I did it.  I finished.  I was spent.  15:07.  What a day.  I started in the dark and ended in the dark.   It felt so good, yet so painful.

 

 

 

Thank you, Body, for carrying me through this epic physical trial.  Thank you, Everyone, who sent me Metta, prayers, positive thoughts, and good energy to help carry me when I was low.  Thank you, Eric, for being an awesome supporter, a wonderful friend, and for looking after Calah for me during that long day.  Thank you, Calah, for your Beautiful Love.

 

As for limits….I haven’t reached mine yet.   I’m still testing them.  I’d like to fantastically think that maybe I don’t have any. . .