IMAZ Recap- A Day Of Pain And Pride

Over the last few days I've been trying to come to grips with my race this past Sunday. There are so many more questions and emotions running through your head when a race does not go well. It's almost like a grieving period, but luckily I am nearing the end and am ready to put this chapter behind me.

I went into the race full of hope and excitement for one last hurrah of 2012. My training had been going  fine, uninterrupted with plenty of rest and no races between Mont Tremblant in August and IMAZ in November. (That might have been a mistake, as I now realize that racing is what helps me get in race shape, so perhaps a half thrown in would have better prepped me for the full after such a long break) Even though my bike didn't arrive with me on my flight, I wasn't overly worried and it came with the next flight, only slightly delaying my bed time. My parents were in town as well, making IMAZ their first full Ironman. Unfortunately my step dad was dealing with a pretty bad cold, but he stayed positive as usual, and soldiered right through to the finish line on Sunday. I also had my number one race support/ tech support Brandon by my side, taking away any potential headaches with my bike etc. I felt like it was going to be a great day out there. In addition, I knew potential sponsors were watching and I did not want to disappoint.

Having done the race the past 3 years, I knew the course inside out and didn't think I'd get all that nervous. But I still only managed 90min of sleep or so the night before, not ideal. Got to transition with plenty of time to take care of every little thing and got a warm up jog in as well. Putting on my wetsuit, it felt a little tight but I figured it would give once in the water. Before the sun was even up, the pros were ordered to jump 3 ft down into the dark and cold abyss that is Tempe Town lake, treading water for another 10min or so before our gun went off. (men and women got a separate start this year, 5 min apart) I had made sure to get some short efforts in to keep the blood moving and my HR up. The start of the swim was a bit chaotic as I had a woman to the left and right of me sandwiching me in the middle. As usual, it got taken out fast and even though I tried my hardest to keep up and match their speed, I was quickly dropped as I struggled to find my breath and felt my body seizing up from the all out sprint. I resigned to my own pace. Nonetheless I was breathing so hard, I felt like the kayaks 20ft away could hear my every breath. After the turn-around at 1.2mi, I was swimming into a slight current with no one else around and my breathing became so labored that I started producing phlegm and had to clear my throat several times. I could tell I was slowing, putting in so much effort just to get air in.

Age groupers, who started 10min behind us, starting passing me. Lots of them. What was going on? Was I going that bad? I tried to stay on some of their feet, but they just pulled right past me like fish in a school, leaving me behind as I struggled to keep any sense of race pace going. As I finally made it to the swim exit, I looked at my watch and saw 1.09. Could not believe it. Almost 10min slower than I swam 2 years ago. Trying not to dwell on it, I made my way into the changing tent and out on the bike course, hoping to have put the worst behind me.

Focus on the bike course. Love that Wingspan!

With my slow swim and age groupers already well mixed in, I spent most of my ride trying to escape numerous packs and avoiding crashes. The 3x out and back course was packed, more so than any other year I've raced it. I looked for my parents but never saw them, wondered how they were doing. I didn't feel hungry or any sense of appetite, so I had to force most of my nutrition down, and ended up taking in less than I normally do. But I felt good, steady energy the entire ride. A few coughs in the beginning from my irritated lungs (due to the excessively hard breathing) but otherwise no issues. I saw a few of the other pro women, and knew I was well back. But my strength was still ahead. I was looking forward to getting off my bike and on that run course to try and reverse some damage. Bike time was 5:09, slower than my goal but still a PR.

As soon as I started my run out of T2,  I steered directly into the first porta potty I saw, as I have yet to master going on the bike. Feeling much better after that, I tried to get into a good rhythm. A girl who had left T2 right behind me, was now ahead as I stopped to go to the bathroom. I kept my focus on reeling her back in. Then I felt it coming on, a pain like someone was twisting a knife in my side, a very familiar pain. (have dealt with this before, but never during a race) I had managed to irritate/ pop out a rib on my left side/ upper back that was now causing such intense pain that it stopped me in my tracks. I tried to breathe through it but the pain was so intense it took my breath away. The downhills were the worst. I had no choice but to walk. And think. Thoughts started rolling through my head- should I stop and drop out? Can't possibly do 26mi in his pain. Ironman is hard enough as it is. No, can't drop out, could never live with myself. Wait for mom and pace her to her first IM finish? Wasn't sure where she was in the race. I tried picking up my pace and run but whenever I exceeded jog pace and went for more than a few steps, my breathing was cut off like someone was punching me in my stomach. In addition, something wasn't sitting right in my gut and for the first time in a race I also experienced some real GI problems, with plenty more porta john visits.

Right after I found mom! You'd think we were related...

Then the tears started rolling. How could this all have happened? I had been in great shape, trained diligently and made sure to get a good taper. I had done well in my other two IMs this year and given myself enough time to recover and train again after my last one. But Ironman racing is tough and there are just no guarantees. We've all seen the greats suffer and get defeated while in the best shape of their lives. I tried to remind myself that this wasn't the end of the world, but man did it suck to be forced to walk. When I finally saw Brandon after lap one, he needed no explanation, he knew. I briefly contemplated ending my day, but being the good boyfriend that he is, he didn't let me. Instead, he told me my mom was just a few minutes up ahead on her first lap of the run, and I could catch her. This was all the carrot I needed to get going and stop feeling defeated. I needed to be a role model for her, how much pain was she in? This was her first ever IM!

Unsure of what to feel, but crossing another IM finish line

It took me until close to the end of lap 2 to catch her and once I did, I felt a huge amount of relief of having found a piece of my family out on the course and quickly filled her in on my day. She seemed to be going great and I asked if she wanted to run with me for a bit. We ended up jogging (all my rib would allow me to do) and walking the aid stations together. Every once in awhile I'd get ahead or she'd get ahead, depending on who was feeling better. Eventually I pulled ahead, with the intense pain having subsided and turned into a dull ache all over my upper back/ rib area. At least I could jog continuously, although with rather labored breathing. I felt numb and emotionless, having let go of my goals for the day, simply surviving the day. At long last I made it to the finish line, where Brandon was there to greet me. Not the finish I had dreamed of, but a finish nonetheless. Considering my pace on the run and my slowest ever marathon, I had minimal soreness and felt remarkably good. Finished just under 10:30.

Here comes Ironmom!

Less than 2 hrs later my mom crossed the line, just 10min off from a Kona spot and securing third place in her AG. She sure made the family name proud. And Mark finished in a respectable sub 14 hrs with a serious cold that easily added on an hour overall. Next time guys, next time! I am so very proud and still can't believe they are both Ironmen! After watching so many of my races they finally got to feel what it's like to be in the race, and I'd like to suspect that they are hooked.

It was a different kind of experience to be in the very back of the pro race, humbling to be getting lapped and not being able to do anything about it. But it's these humbling experiences that teach us more about racing than a great performance. Like Linsey told me post race- it's an experience in the bank to draw on next time around. There were some incredible performances out there, both Linsey and Meredith having super races, always inspiring.

I had a good year, may not have ended it great, but its all part of racing.   Here's to 2013 and new limits achieved. Never give up and never stop believing in yourself! (sounds cheesy but it's what will get you through a less than perfect day!) Maybe I picked up something viral the days before the race, who knows. I will be getting my breathing issue checked by a specialist and hopefully get to the bottom of why my swims are slowing and my efforts keep increasing. No one should have to pop a rib out from trying to breathe so hard while swimming :)


To my supporters and sponsors this season, Powerbar, RockTape, TriggerPoint, and Rudy Project (thank you Chris for getting that new slick TT helmet out to me just in time!), thank you for your support and belief in me. I will be back, and stronger than before! Thanks to friends and family who play such a big role in this sport, providing reassurance on tough days and good ones alike. Thanks for reading and see you all next season.