Training had been going well. I destroyed Chicago. I had done a 9 mile run during training, utilizing the run/walk plan, and while the pain in my knee had returned, it wasn't unmanageable. I was terrified though. Utterly terrified. Everything I had read about this race--the frigid water temperatures, fighting the Pacific breakers twice, the horrendous crosswinds for the entire 56 mile ride, the unrelenting sun, the 3 loops of the run on the Navy Seal base--everything filled me with anxiety and made me a bundle of nerves. Everything! But I had been scared in life before. I knew I just had to take it one baby stroke, pedal, and step at a time. It was only more than double of the Olympic distances I had done. That wasn't going to be awful, right? Anybody? Bueller?
September 27th, 2015. A year and a day since my knee surgeries. Race morning. Started too early. I think our alarms were set for 0330? Or 0300? Who can even say? It was before the Sun had even gotten it's coffee and it was too damn early. But I was ready. I had managed to pass out, hard, the night before the race (which never happens), and felt amazing. Truly amazing. Ready to face this race and conquer it.
The swim. A two loop course with a brief run on the beach in between each loop. Fighting the Pacific breakers twice. Awesome. Who doesn't want to do that? The ocean was uncharacteristically calm that morning. Until 2 minutes before the race. As the National Anthem was played, the winds picked up and the ocean started churning. Even better! I was in wave 5, the last wave. Small race. Perfect. All ladies. Even better. Yes, once the race starts, us ladies are brutal. Probably rougher to each other than our male counterparts. But on that beach? These women were amazing. I was more than intimidated. They were all so strong, sleek, and shocked that I was attempting this as my first 70.3. But I was ready to show them. Entered the water. Oh yeah, this is the ocean. There is salt. Way to go, brain. Started passing men on the first lap, because those were really the only ones in front of us to pass. I could tell by the cap colors which wave these gents were in. 4th wave, passed. 3rd wave, passed. End of first loop. Started passing some of the second wave on the beach run. Dive back in. Guess what? Still salt water! More of the 2nd wave, passed. Oh look! Men from the first wave. Who started 12 minutes ahead of me. Passed. It pays, for just that briefest time, to be a swimmer kid. Came out of the water in the top 10. What?! Time was 34.57. Pretty legit for a 1.2 mile swim!
The bike. I had my same road bike, with my aerobars. Still no bike fit, still just in cages. I didn't know what I was doing. But it was fun! 4 loops to make 56 miles. Up and down the coast on the base. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Physically tough. Mentally excruciating. Same people cheering, which was awesome! But the same. And same scenery, which was awesome! But the same. So tedious. I had only done a 40 mile ride during training. I didn't think 16 more miles would be that big of a jump. Yeah, it was. I should, absolutely, have done a 50 mile ride. Would have been such a good idea. Hooray for hindsight. But I powered through. My cousin passed me on the 3rd loop (took him WAY longer to catch me than he thought it would--which made me so, so happy), and we were able to give each other some words of encouragement. He knew what this agony felt like--I was in uncharted territory! Leading back into transition, naturally, there was a hill. And on this hill, there was the greatest group of volunteers. Ever. Ridiculous, probably college age, boys. And they were magnificent! Our bibs had our names on them. So I heard "Get it, Heather!! Make this hill your bitch! You got this!!!" And it gave me the fire to climb that tiny hill and get my ass back to transition. It was just what I needed. Bike time was 3:13.02. Awesome.
My legs were shot. Just utterly destroyed. And I now had to go run a half marathon! Goodie. And I paid for this! I'm so smart! By this point, the sun was oh so high overhead. I was not prepared for this. At all. Not physically, not mentally, not any other adverb you'd like to use. I could feel my skin frying as I made every staggering step. This was a three loop route all around the base. Over half of it, by the time all was said and done, was on the beach. I was able to run on the packed sand so as to attempt to maintain a relatively normal cadence and stride. What they neglected to tell us that part of the run was around "The Grinder" and was on pebbles. That was awful! And borderline cruel and unusual punishment, in my opinion. But I had come this far. I wasn't going to let a few little pebbles stop me! Even if those pebbles invaded my shoes and caused the most intense blisters I had ever received. Mile after mile, I trudged along. I was able to keep up my run seven minutes, walk one minute up until mile 9. And then disaster! And by disaster, I mean my stupid right knee began acting up. Same pain that I had before surgery, the limping began, and so did more walking. But I was at mile 9! Only 4.1 more! That was nothing. So I tried running again. Made it a minute. Ok. Run one minute, walk one minute. If that's what I had to do, so be it. Powered through doing that until mile 12. Then I got my 2nd, or 3rd, or 4th, or 5th, wind and the pain vanished. Knee felt fine. Um, ok? I knew I wasn't going to be able to run the whole 1.1, but I was going to run as much as I could. Made it 4 minutes before my lungs started giving out. I was so hot, I was so tired, and I was so done. I made the final turn up the beach. I could hear the finish line. I could see the carpet in front of me. I could see the finish line. And I sprinted! I ran as hard as I could for as tired as I was. I heard my name. I crossed that line. And I collapsed.
Two very lovely men carried me over to medical while 2 other volunteers put a medal around my neck and a finisher's hat on my head. They sat me down, the gave me salt, and they dumped ice all over me. And it was amazing. I was on fire. And I was dead. I had left it all out there. I couldn't have gone any harder. My run time was 2:45.11. Just a minute off my stand alone half marathon PR. I was back, baby. Overall time was 6:43.34. My unspoken goal was under 7 hours. Dammit, I really was back!
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| I was a Superfrog! |
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