Evolution Of An Endurance Athlete

As I was sitting glued to the computer for a good amount of Saturday watching the Big Dance unfold before my eyes in the comfort of my own home, it occured to me that I am, without a doubt, a huge fan of Endurance Sports. The kind that brings out all kinds of human emotions and displays the best of the Human Spirit. The kind that triggers your own emotions as you watch people and hope that they pull through, and ultimately come out on top when they realize their dreams. For me, the Ironman is the greatest display of the human spirit and to have been part of it once has only made me hungrier for more, to draw on my experience, to race smarter and to dig deeper. To cross that finish line after putting your body through so much is one of the greatest elations to experience. But how does one get there? We all start somewhere, and this is how I arrived in the sport of long distance triathlon.

I guess I'll start at the very beginning, or at least the part I can still remember. I was six years old and in first grade and I was living in the former GDR. (that is East Germany for those who don't know) The country had a really good filter system for detecting athletes early on. It was on a day we had gym class and we were lined up, weighed, measured and asked some family history. We were then given a couple of choices as to what sport we'd best be suited for, and it was up to our parents to decide which one to enter us in. (if any) For me, my choices were either basketball ( I was a tall first grader), swimming, or Track and Field. Because of the young age, my parents thought it to be best to enroll me in swimming. And so it (unbeknownst to me) began. I started swimming on a team a few times a week and by fourth grade the sport became pretty serious with long practices and swim meets on the weekends. My best stroke was always Breast Stroke and looking back, I put up some pretty serious times!

I started to feel a little burned out by 6th grade (which was now the age where the serious weeding of future Olympians began) Swimming twice a day just didn't do it for me, but I did enjoy the cross training sessions which included running laps around the track. I quit halfway through 6th grade and pretty much did no sports until I entered high school, at which point I was living in the US. There I joined the swim team and had fun on a more relaxed level. It was a one season sport however, so I started to do a little running on my own. It was very painful. I still remember the first run with my mom, 40 minutes and it seemed like an eternity. But I also remember how good I felt after that run, and so I kept on it and never stopped since :). My senior year I joined the XC and track teams and had some moderate success, even making it to States in the 2-mile. There was one time though where I squeezed in a little extra runtime after we only ran about 20min in practice, and my coach "caught" me running and almost scolded me for doing something I enjoyed. I never understood at the time, but I knew I was a distance athlete and I liked to go long.

Per my coaches urging for me to keep going in college, I walked on my college XC and track team as well and ended up being the Number one distance runner for all 4 years I was there. I ran the mile, up to 10k but it felt like there was something missing. Something greater I wanted to accomplish. And so I signed up for my first marathon after I graduated and completed the 2002 NYC Marathon in 2:56 to the surprise of both my coach and myself. With obvious potential at longer distances, I threw myself into running, lots of running and tried unsuccessfully over the next couple of years to better my marathon time. I could not even get back under three hours, and in 2005 after yet two more 3+ hr marathons and injuries, I needed a rest from pounding my legs. A friend urged me to try triathlon and so after a 10 year hiatus from the pool, I started swimming again, only this time, at altitude. It hurt alot and I wasn't sure I could ever get in shape again.

I dabbled in a few tris the following summer, and even managed a sub 5 hr half ironman in my second attempt. I knew I had found a new passion and started training with a purpose again. I had goals, ranging from winning my age group at local (yet highly competitive) local races in Boulder to seeing where I stacked up on the national level. I did the 2007 National Championship and felt pretty inexperienced without a clue who my competition was or what good splits were, and finished 7th in my A.G. and 17th overall. Not bad, but not great. Obviously Olympic distance wasn't my calling... Then in 2008 I had an idea. Why not try to see if I could qualify to race in Hawaii at the most famous triathlon of them all? Sure I had heard about the heat and the wind and the distance and the pain, but what overshadowed it all, was the prestige and the fact that it was the World Championship of Ironman. So what if it would be my first one? And besides, I would be in Hawaii, the islands of Aloha!
Low and behold I did win my age group at BSLT 70.3 even though I felt like I had the slowest race ever... and so I was slaphappy to accept my Kona slot without a second thought.

Then came the big reality check. I started piling on the miles over the summer, testing myself with every increase in distance. Up to last year I had not ridden over 60 mi on a bike and hadn't run more than 90 min for a long run in a few years. After gallons of sweat lost and replaced, I found myself in pretty good (and tan :0) shape at the end of summer. I had done my century rides and my bricks and my 3 hr long runs and I felt like I could handle this ironman thing. Then I arrived in Kona and was overwhelmed by the amount of compression sock, bright shoes and tight shorts wearing folks, not to mention they all looked like they belonged on the cover of some uber fitness magazine. I had to trust that I had done the work and was ready, just like them. Because just because you have the fittest body, doesn't necessarily mean you will get to the finish line first, at least not in Ironman. I started my day with a panic cry right before I had to say good-bye to family, then stared at the day before me (as was captured forever by the blueseventy Kona ad above), continued on with several more cries of frustration, pain and hopelessness, and ended it with my eyes closed crossing the finish, probably not having enough fluids left in me to cry some more. (see bottom pic of blog) And it wasn't until weeks and months later that I realized how much of an impact that race had on me. They say it changes you as a person and I now fully believe that it does. Ironman has taught me to suffer, to suffer when you want it to be over because you're not done yet, and to push through the physical pain you experience while you are out there giving your all for 9,10,11 or more hours.

So now I near the 4 weeks out mark from my next big test and I am preparing to the best of my abilities to not repeat any of my rookie mistakes from last year's race, and to be open to the challenges the day may bring, to embrace the pain it will certainly induce, and to savor every moment, because even though it hurts so bad,when you think you can't take another step because your legs will crumble from fatigue, it is me who wants to do this race in the first place, to see that the human body can handle more than we allow ourselves to believe at times, to break down barriers others say exist, to let former doubters know that all those hours spent working out were for a reason, that we are not crazy because we run for 3 hrs or bike for 6 and enjoy it too. And lastly I am giving it my best shot because I want to taste the salt water again, and feel the winds push me across the road, and conquer the heat on the run, so that I can once again run down that magical stretch of road that you find nowhere else, in the finishing steps of that 140.6mi journey. It won't be easy, but I will try my best.