Off Season

As I sit here, just barely 3 weeks post IMMOO, I find myself wondering the same things. What should I do this off season? How can I get leaner and faster? What should my schedule look like next year? Can I take a realistic crack at Kona? Am I, yet again, putting too much pressure on myself? (It's no wonder I don't sleep at night).

I'm reminded, by a lot of people but specifically in this case by my utterly spectacular and wonderful S.O., that I am amazing. I'm an Ironman x2. I've picked up and moved across the country (oh yeah, I picked up and moved across the country), where I know no one. We've made a long distance relationship last for almost 10 months. I went to Germany for 2 weeks all on my own. I can do anything!!

So why do I still feel like a failure? Why won't my brain let go of all the things that have gone wrong instead of focusing on all the good? Am I doomed to perpetually believe I'm not enough? What happens when I qualify for Kona? Does my life change dramatically? Other than financially because I'll be broke af, no. Life will go on. Just the same as it always does.

I'm hoping this is all just the post-race depression talking. And the real depression from having left all my friends. I want to get back into a training schedule, I desperately crave that structure, but I am trying to balance recovery with training. I've yet to achieve that. Mayhaps that's what I should focus on this off season....

IMMOO Race Report

It's a week later and I finally feel I've recovered enough to write this report. Here goes....

IMWI September 9th, 2018

That morning dawned crisp and cool. In fact, I was freezing. Had just my swimsuit and my Star Wars onesie on while I was getting my bike ready, filling after bottles, etc, and was definitely shivering. And unfortunately, my sherpa wasn't allowed in transition. Needless to say, I hurried through far too rashly. My back wheel ended up getting slightly off, and I'm fairly certain the wheel was rubbing the brakes the whole ride. Oops.

The Swim
Made my way down and donned my wetsuit to warm up. And huddled up against Sean to keep warm (he's basically a furnace). Per classic parents, they weren't there by the time I entered the shoot, but I did end up seeing them before I started. I couldn't get up to the swim wave I wanted to be in, which ended up being ok because I was drastically slower than I anticipated. Cannon went off, and it was go time! Entered the water and attempted to fall into my rhythm. Attempted being the key word. Some jerk punched me in the head every few strokes almost the entire race. He either didn't know or didn't care, but the rage was real. As was the chop. Couldn't sight properly, got way too tired way too early, and just wasn't feeling it. Not the best way to start a very long day. Finally made the last turn, powered through to the end, exited the water. Official time was 1:04.06. 5 minutes slower than IMFL. Luckily, I didn't know that....

T1
No salt water to wash off!! Definite plus. Couldn't catch my breath after running up the damn helix (look it up. Monona Terrace. It's awful). Probably should have taken my time, but I was in the zone. Or sabotaging myself. Either one. But it was on to the bike and I was ready.

The Bike
Oh just screw that wind and that course and everything about it. The stick out felt....ok. Especially considering I hadn't ridden it before. And then I got to the loops. Now I was in my happy place. I'd ridden them so many times. I knew how this was going to go. I was ready!

Had to be on the first loop. I still look good....

First loop, done. Alright. Special needs. Decided I absolutely needed to stop. More saddle butter. I was in agony! Unfortunately, my volunteers had no idea what I was talking about, so I had to do it myself. A minor inconvenience, but when I already felt terrible, this wasn't ideal. It was fine. Ready to do the second half. And then it really went wrong. 

I started feeling really....weird. Neck was getting stiffer than usual during my rides. Nose started getting beyond congested. And muscles started aching in worse than just fatigued way. As a nurse, and as someone who knows her body, I knew exactly what was happening. I was developing a fever. I had chills and hot flashes in turns the entire second loop and the stick back into Madison. The stick also had 16 miles of uphill headwinds. Awesome. I had more than one breakdown on that ride, tears streaming down my face, questioning how I was not only going to finish the ride, but do a whole marathon! Agony. Excruciating agony. Finally, finally, I could hear and see transition! One last hill as I climbed the helix, and I was done!! Official time was 6:38.56. Another ouch. 

T2

I almost fell getting off my bike, I was in that much pain. Apparently my brother noticed, he commented after the race was done, and he knew something was wrong. Powered through transition, and despite being dizzy, nauseous, and feverish, I felt decent. I was ready to tackle this marathon. 

The Run

First 5 miles? Awesome. Was able to power through by running to each aid station and walking through them. I wasn't able to ingest much on the bike, so I knew I was burning through too many matches, but I was still going to attempt to replenish my stores. Miles 5-8 got more and more painful. Started getting more and more dizzy, less and less stable. I'm not sure if I was weaving or not, but it felt like it. By mile 8, I was sure I was going down, so the walking began. It was brutal. There's nothing, I repeat NOTHING, wrong with walking, but it wasn't what I had trained for. My legs and feet weren't prepared for this. It was prolonging the pain, my whole family and my bf were there cheering me on (approximately 18 people total), and all I could think was I was letting them down. I made it to mile 11, saw my friend Melissa, and broke. Sobbing. Tears streaming down my face. Stating I was letting everyone down, that I was such a disappointment. That amazing woman, that angel, she walked with me, helped slowed my breathing, got my head back in the game. I wouldn't have made it another step without her and I'll be forever grateful. 

My next angel arrived in the form of my friend, spirit animal, and fellow Ironman Natalie. She was at the aid station at about mile 12.4. She took one look at me and knew I wasn't doing well. I broke again. More tears, more fears of disappointment, more agony. She walked me to special needs, where again, I almost went down. I knew the fever was getting higher, and unfortunately, the sun was starting to set. I hadn't anticipated being out there that late, so no warm clothes for me. My hands were starting to get very cold, the dizziness was horrendous, and I still had 13.1 miles ahead of me. Not ideal. 

I started a walk half mile/run half mile. Made it 3 miles doing that and then I just couldn't. More walking, trudging along, trying to power through. Saw my family and friends a few more times along the way. They gave me the strength to attempt running again.

The Lime Green shirts. Those are my peeps

I think I was to about mile 17 and I saw my angel Melissa again. I don't remember the exact words, but she kept me going. I was back to the run/walk and I was able to maintain it for about 5 miles. Miles slowly, slowly ticking away. Finally at mile 25. 1.2 to go. I could do this. I knew Natalie would pop out soon, and she did. She ran with me, as much as I could. She walked with me when I needed to. She pushed me to the last couple turns. Finally, I could hear it. The finish line. And then, I could see it!! It was beautiful. And in that moment, all my pain, my fear of being a letdown, of disappointing everyone, it vanished. I ran down that finisher's shoot like I had wings, high fiving every person I could, tears in my eyes. I saw my family, got to high five my mom and my love, and I heard him. Mike Reilly. The Voice of Ironman. "Heather Hermann from Chicago, IL. You are an Ironman!" 

What a shot!

Official run time was 5:51.05. Total time was 13:51.06. 

Obviously, there were many factors that led to this race physically and mentally destroying me. And they all sound like excuses. The wind, I had a fever, I was in pain, etc. But at the end of the day? It's on me. I didn't respect the course enough. I thought I was stronger than I was. I put too much pressure on myself. The anxiety of always needing to crush everything I do, making my family proud, getting to Kona. It all added up in spectacular form and I cracked. It wasn't the race I wanted or expected, but I think it was the race I needed. I think I needed to break, to be utterly defeated, to burst into flames and be destroyed. There's a reason I have a giant phoenix forever imprinted on my arm. From this demolition, I will rise again.

Six Days

Six days until go-time. Under a week. And as I type, Monday is mostly over (well, it is for me since I am actually 85 and want to be in bed by 9pm). So it's basically five days and some change. *attempts deep breath*


A lot has been on my mind the past few weeks of training. Like anyone tapering for an Ironman, I begin to question whether I have done enough. Did I do enough hill training on the bike? Probably. I rode the course a fair number of times, as much as schedule and money would allow. Did I do enough hill training on the run? Probably not. I think it's going to really hurt. Obviously any Ironman hurts, but I think it's really going to hurt. Bad. Did I get my GI issues worked out? Hardly. I am hoping and praying (as much as I do that anymore) that I can make it through and actually be able to run. As long as my legs hold out, anyway (see previous sentence).


The most frustrating part is that I find myself doubting almost every decision I made this season. I should have trained harder. I shouldn't have taken 2 weeks off to go to Germany. I should have trainer harder. I shouldn't have traveled to see my S.O. as much (but love!). I should have trained harder. The rational side of my brain knows I can do this. I have done the distances before, I know what it feels like to exercise for that long. But I haven't done these distances with these elevation gains. My thunder thighs can probably manage, but you never really know until you push to and past your self-imposed limits.


Another lovely stress added to all of this is naturally something over which I have no control--nature. It's almost as if climate change is actually a phenomenon with which we are contending. Madison and the surrounding area has been absolutely slammed with storms and rain. Parts are still flooded. Let me rephrase. Parts of the course are still flooded. It's looking very unlikely that there will be a swim of the triathlon comprised of Swim, Bike, Run. That begs the question: what then? Does it become a duathlon; run-bike-run? Do we just do a 138.2 (140.6 subtracting the 2.4 mile swim)? It's still a f#@king long way, but not nearly as impressive (it's still impressive, I'm just being whiny). I find my mind racing and my heart rate rising and my face flushing all over a scenario that may not happen! Because that's what anxiety does. This nasty little demon of mine...


*attempts another deep breath*

Age Group Nationals

Saturday, August 11th

Racing on a Saturday is always a little foreign to me. IMFL was on a Saturday because of daylight savings (don't get me started on how stupid that is!), but this one was on a Saturday so that Sprint distance could be Sunday (so they get done earlier and can still go to work Monday? Sure. Let's go with that).

I was graciously offered a bed at a friend's house in lovely Cleveland, OH. The alarm went off at approximately 0415 after a solid almost 7 hours of sleep. Considering my normal levels of insomnia combined with pre-race anxiety, that's a lot of sleep for me! My friend is so sweet that he was already awake, brewing coffee, and boiling water so I could make my race breakfast of oatmeal with bananas and peanut butter. Once that was slowly consumed, mostly due to nerves, it was time to change and make our way to transition. I had a pretty good spot in transition and easily re-found my bike after racking the day before. The ladies around me were...intimidating, to say the least. I knew I was going to be slightly out of my league, but seeing these strong badasses with their Worlds' kits from the previous year and their team kits with sponsors really hit that message home. What had I just gotten myself into?!

The Swim
Awful does not even begin to describe how the swim went. It really didn't look all that choppy. At least not from shore. And then I began swimming. I hate getting motion sickness from a swim. The swim is supposed to be my happy place, my strength, my calm before the storm. Instead, this storm threw me around like I was a ragdoll! An Olympic distance is supposed to be 1500 meters--I ended up doing over 1800 because of waves and lack of being able to sight. Not good. Time was 28.45. Ugh. 1:30 pace if you take into account how much I actually did, but official pace said 1:55 (because they only time for 1500 meters). Brutal. Slowest swim ever.

T1
Felt good. Super fast. In and out, despite needing to remove my wetsuit. It helps when you only have to bike for just under 25 miles and know you won't need that much hoo-ha glide and nutrition!

The Bike
Love, love, LOVED this course. One big "hill," but the rest of it was flat and fast! I went into this race with the mindset that I was really going to drop the hammer on this bike. I wanted to see just how fast I could push over this distance, even if that meant my legs might not be totally decent for the run. I was under no misconceptions that I was going to qualify for Team USA, so why not use this time to experiment and a solid training session? Challenge accepted! I managed to beast mode my way to a 1:11.43 for an average of just under 21mph. Not too shabby for this former fat kid!

T2
Also felt surprisingly good for how jelly my legs were and how hot the sun was getting. And with no shade on the bike and very little on the run, knew I needed to reapply the sunblock. Skin cancer is no joke! So downed some more of the fuel, sunblocked it up, hat on, and began running while clipping the race belt. Getting way better at that too! Tiny victories!

The Run
I wanted to drop the hammer on the bike. And I did. And then the hammer turned into a pendulum, swung back around, and slammed me into the ground. Or at least that's what it felt like. Right out of transition, bam! Hill. go a little further along, bam! Another hill. For good measure? Let's do another hill! Oh, and by the way, do that loop again. Suckers! I know it was good practice for Madison. I needed it. But I didn't really want it. At all. Some buzzes of my watch were awesome, some were not. It was fairly decent balance. I ran next to an awesome woman with a "Go Vegan" kit on, and we chatted until she flew past me. I ran next to an awesome woman with hair very similar to mine,  I complimented her as I flew past her. Balance. Finally, finally, I could see the finish line! Oh wait, run up this weird constructed ramp. Then run down it while it's wet and wobbly and your legs have become even more jelly-like. Great, I'd love to! Crossed the finish line with a 54:10 run time for a total of 2:41.40. Not a PR on Olympic distance, but a damn spectacular way to swan song my Olympic distance career.

Rockin' It Out

Love the guitar pick!

Did this race mess up my training for IMWI? Possibly. A weird forced taper due to an injury followed by a week of illness that again kept training down may sabotage me come September 9th. But would I have changed this season? No. I wanted this experience, I wanted to see what I could do against some stiff competition, and I accomplished those goals. Life is about living with no regrets and that's what I'm doing.

Up next? Ironman Wisconsin. It's race week. Seven days to go time. Bring in on, hills!