Running Toward Myself

Iron Girl Atlanta -- Race Report

Bike racked and read to ride!

 "I FINISHED."

 As I sit here and reflect upon the events of this weekend, those two words carry more significance for me than they ever have at any other time in my life. I've finished a lot of things as far as racing goes during the past several years, but being able to say, "I finished," has never been so thoroughly meaningful as it was yesterday morning at Iron Girl Atlanta.

At the beginning of the morning, I was utterly excited to try my hand at this new racing adventure.I awoke well ahead of my 4:15 alarm, and I didn't feel especially nervous or anxious as I and my Race Posse struck out early for the trek to Lake Lanier. I was pumped....I was finally ready to check another item off of my to-do list and become a runner-turned-triathlete once and for all.

Are you SURE you HAVE to put my age on there?

After arriving at transition, getting my number and age inked (thanks, little girl!), and setting up my transition area, my first snafu of the day made its appearance: a blown tire. I suppose this is the lesson to be learned in making sure you get to transition plenty early on race day so that little things like this don't turn into big things, and I'm awfully happy it happened before the race and not during it! Thankfully The Husband was close by and was more than happy to lend his superior tube-changing-skills. I am fully capable of changing a tire, however, I did not have the 45 minutes of time and patience to do it myself as my nerves were a wee bit frazzled already. His 5-minutes of work saved me a major breakdown...I'm pretty certain...and I owe him one (or two or three) for coming with me early instead of staying at the hotel to get some extra sleep like I had encouraged him to do!

My BFF and my sister-from-another-mother, Sue!

Fortunately I was able to spend the rest of the time before the swim-start absolutely stress-free. It was great to have time to visit with new friends, including SwimBikeMom and Karen W., and meet other new people, lots of them also attempting their first triathlons. It eased my worries to know that so many others were venturing into unknown territory with me. I spent time with many amazing people throughout the morning who gave me encouragement, including The Husband, the whole reason I got into this mess (I mean that with all the love in my heart) and my very best BFF, Sue, who came all the way from Indiana to cheer me on in my biggest racing adventure without her. She is always there for me even though we live what seems like a zillion miles away now, and I can't ever thank her enough for being there for me!

My co-worker, Cynthia, was also racing, and we had plenty of time to chat and review our strategy pre-swim:

Do I LOOK nervous?

I can honestly say I was not nervous as I waited for my wave to hit the water. I had conquered my fear of open water the previous weekend, I had my wet suit on which I knew would help me stay afloat and keep my hips in the proper position to swim, and I was excited when the horn blew for the 35-39 age group to get their race started. There was plenty of jostling, elbows, and kicks, and all of those swim lessons and form drills were pretty much tossed to the wayside as people fought for position and tried to find their rhythm. Although I couldn't find my own comfort-zone, I was able to hold my own through the first half of the swim. I rounded the green buoys which signified the turnaround, slowly, but in good shape. I was among the other blue caps which signified my age group, even ahead of some of the green caps which were the group ahead of us. I was doing something I'd never dreamed I could actually do, and I was halfway finished! As I rounded the final green buoy and saw the swim exit, I was feeling confident.

However, that confidence was short lived as it was during the second half of the swim where my second and most epic challenge arose. As I glanced off to the left during my freestyle/breast stroke/frog-kick/doggie paddle, I noticed a kayak with several (A LOT) of women hanging off the side. I could hear the kayaker screaming, "Don't put all your weight on it....we'll flip over!" To my right I saw a woman floating on her back, a pink cap...the FIRST wave...and others yelling that she needed help. Then, as I glanced up toward the swim exit, I could no longer see the exit as my goggles had steamed up, rendering me virtually blind in this chaos which my husband later descried as, "....a really horrible scene, an awful lot like Titanic."  And I began to panic. I couldn't catch my breath and my heart started to palpitate. I started shaking and what vision I did started to narrow into the tell-tale-tunnel vision associated with a full-blown panic attack.

I am 35 years old, and I have never had a panic attack. That isn't my style. I am a cool chick (not just a Tough Chik) and pride myself on being able to keep my head in challenging situations. I didn't know how to deal with the physical reaction to impending doom, and I can honestly say, today, that I thought I was going to die. I started to rationalize that if that kayaker had all those women hanging for dear life on her boat, how the heck was she going to save me? I rolled over to my back to try to collect  myself, and each time I did I was splashed in the face by passing swimmers, leaving me gasping for air and worse than before. I'd flip back over, do my breast-stroke, then roll back to my back to try to catch my breath and talk myself out of my panic. I honestly have no earthly idea how I made it to the beach. When I finally did, 22+ minutes later, I thanked God for getting me there because I am pretty certain he had a big part in the deal. As I exited the swim and began my run up a stupid hill to transition, I saw The Husband and Sue and said, "I. AM. NEVER. SWIMMING.AGAIN." And I meant it...

Back on Dry Land and Oh So Happy About It!

My transition was a respectable time of 4ish minutes, and as I hopped on the bike, I was hoping that I'd get some of my confidence back out on the course. Since I'd ridden it a few weeks prior, I knew where the hills were, what gears I needed to be in, and mentally I was ready to rock and put that horrific experience of the swim behind me. However, apparently the side-effects of a true panic attack do not subside when the immediate danger has been removed...of course being a panic attack newbie, I did not know that until AFTER the race. And it explains why, for the entire 19 miles, I could not catch my breath. It felt as though I was sucking through a straw the entire time. Even on the flats, I could not get my mind clear and it seemed as though I was riding through a fog. I am usually able to watch the course, noticing pretty houses, interesting landmarks, and generally seeing the entire landscape of my route when I am riding. However, I couldn't tell you a thing about any of the 19 miles I rode. Just as the swim, I am not entirely certain how I got back to transition in one piece, and in a respectable time of 1:09 (16.4 mph). Not a clue....

My second transition was speedier, in and out in 2:27! I was glad to be on the run, my strength...usually. However, that stupid panic attack from earlier...remember it?....was still causing me grief, as just like on the bike, I could not get my breath. I'd run and then be forced to stop to walk as I felt light-headed and totally unlike myself. I had no running form to speak of, just this sort of unrecognizable shuffle. My ankle started to ask for some attention, and I gave in, walking way more than I ever have on a 5K. So many of the passing runners gave me encouragement, and I appreciated each and ever kind word more than anyone knows. Mentally, I was so sad to finish a race this way....walking....when I am a strong runner. The one thing I needed success in on this day was the run, and I did not have it. I especially am grateful to Karen W., fellow Tough Chik, for running with me and encouraging me after the turn-around. With all of my walking, I still mustered up enough pride to get my butt running for the last half-mile or so, crossing the finish line in a 5K time of 29:2, for a total time of 2:08: 46 not at all what I'd wanted.

Thanks, Karen, for helping me along!

New Tough Chik Friends from Lexington, KY... Andrea aka BluegrassTriChick and Nina!

For the first time after a disappointing race, I did not hang my head. I did not cry about not finishing in my 2-hour goal time. I did not sing my woe-is-me song that has so often been my post-race tune when not meeting my own lofty expectations. I did not care one bit who finished in front of me...who I should have beaten. The only thing that mattered, today, was that I FINISHED.

Sure, the fact that this was my first triathlon was huge. It is a sport I've come to embrace since meeting The Husband, and I've worked diligently to overcome many obstacles so that we can share this sport together. However none of that mattered today.That is because approximately a million times during the race I told myself that I would NOT finish. I began to tune in to my inner demons who were signing a terrible chorus of, "I told you so's," and, "You sucks." All the positive self-talk I'd done throughout my training and all the hours of blocking out the pain of my ankle injury were, in one fail swoop, tossed out of  my brain and were replaced with all of the negative things I could dredge up to dwell upon. I began to ask myself why I was kidding myself that me, a girl who two months ago couldn't swim, had honestly thought she could complete the 1/3 mile swim without drowning, let alone resembling a "real" triathlete. But you know what, I fought past those things. I did not let it stop me. When the going got tough, I did not turn tail and run. I left all my chips on the table and came away a million times richer for having done so. An Iron Girl. A Triathlete. A Winner no matter the time on the clock read.

The Husband...my biggest fan indeed :)

Celebrate with cupcakes? Why Not?