becoming a happy adult in a sunny sustainable world.
You know that midnight train from Georgia? Well, it became a midnight train back to Georgia without a single post being written. I could chalk it up to many things, not the least of which was my laziness. And just general malaise. But also, I needed some time to regroup. To forget about the stress and anxiety…and, well, shocking sheer craziness of my life in Augusta. So, regroup, I did. And I returned to work yesterday morning in pleasant spirits…for about 3 hours.
It was a great vacay…except the one major fail. My first ever DNF.
Yep, folks…this past weekend was my only half ironman of the year. And I did not finish that sucker. I’ve been through many stages of grief. Anger. Denial. White hot self-rage. And, finally, I’ve mostly come to accept it. Because, what else can one do? Not much. But, accept it, learn from it, and move on. An integral part of learning from it, though, is the race report. So here goes nothing.
PreRace: Drove down to Cambridge, MD from Baltimore on Saturday. Picked up the packet, they didn’t have anymore shirts in the size I ordered, so they offered me a W’s S (um, have you met me? I haven’t been a WS since I was in middle school) or a M’s L. Neither work. Boo. Whatever, it’s not like I wear many of those shirts anyway. So, I leave the expo and we head to our motel.
A motel that was 45 minutes away. Because, yes, that was all that was available when I booked the motel 4 days earlier. Because…well…because, I apparantly forgot to book a hotel. I could have sworn I did. At some point. But I couldn’t find an email confirmation last week. And I couldn’t remember what hotel I booked, so I called every hotel in the area asking if they had a reservation for me. Nadda. Oops. This maybe should have been the first clue that the race wasn’t meant to be. The shirt was the second.
The morning of, I stomached half a bagel and PB and a nanner. My swim wave was the last AG wave, so I had an hour and a half to wait around before I got to swim. So, I sipped on water, tried to stay hydrated and in the shade. Mostly I just snuggled.
Swim: At 7, they announced that the start would be delayed 20 minutes. So, my 8:30 swim start became an 8:50 swim start. Which is WAY late in the day. But, I jumped on in and started swimming.
It was not wetsuit legal, which was fine, but did mean that I was going to be a lot slower than planned.
As I swam, I just tried to stretch out and have nice long strokes. And I did. And I sighted well and swam a tight course. But, the swim still felt like an eternity. With about 300m to go, I started feeling nauseaus. Like, OMG, I’m going to puke my brains out from being seasick, nauseaus. At one point I stopped swimming, looked at the shore and thought, about quitting right there. I also wondered if I puked in the water while swimming wheether I might aspirate the vomit and die.
Eventually I kept going and finished.
And then I get out and looked at my time and thought: WTF?! Almost twice as long as my Augusta HIM swim time?! WTF?!
Turns out the course was 1.5 instead of 1.2 miles…which explains the slow time. But, once I saw that time I knew that my goal of sub 5:30 was not gonna happen.
T1:
I was still feeling nauseaus, but wanted to move quickly. The transition went relatively well…but that’s it.
Bike:
I started out the bike with gooey legs. I don’t normally have that after the swim. Usually I start out the bike feeling fine. But, this time, I was nauseated and I still had sea legs. Seasick and sea legs.
But, the race plan called for dropping my HR to 150-155 and sucking down liquids for the first 5 miles. So, I tried to still take in some nutrition. With the seasickness, I didn’t want to stomach anything. So, I forced some GU chomps down my throat and attempted to drink the water out of my aero bottle.
For the first 15 miles, I averaged 19mph. It wasn’t as fast as I wanted, but it was acceptable. And then, at mile 20, the winds started up. And holy winds. My HR was up to 160-165, a whole ten BPM over what I was aiming for. I could have backed off, but then I would have been really slow. And, well, I don’t like going slow. So, I just pushed on hoping that my HR would settle down and I would settle into a fast pace.
The middle chunk of miles were rough. It was windy and flat. Flat meant I was pushing hard to keep going the whole time and the winds were pushing against me. It was then that I missed hills. Because as much as uphills suck on the bike, you can really get your speed up and going on the downhills. And once the speed is up, it’s easier to keep it up. But, at this point, I became resigned to the idea of a 3:00 bike leg and not a 2:45 bike leg like I had planned.
I settled in to a 18mph pace that was still very difficult, far more difficult than any ride that I’ve done this year. I was still not taking in liquids at the rate that I should have because of the seasickness; so, when I hit the second aid station, I made myself grab a Gatorade. And: success of the day: I made it through the bottle exchange without stopping or crashing!
At mile 40, I started considering dropping out mid bike. It felt as though I was riding through quicksand. I had to gear down to my small ring, even on this completely flat course. It was also 95 degrees and i was melting. Melting and dehydrated. My swim was slow, my bike was slow, and I was just giving up. I was frustrated that I could seem to ride like I do at home. And, so then all the mean negative thoughts started popping up in my head.
You are slow. You suck. You are a lard ass cyclist. You will never qualify for Kona. You should never have qualified for Boston. You are a fraud. And a shitty athlete. Your days are over. You will never be as good as you want to be.
Once those thoughts start going, the game is over. When I’m on top of my mental game, I’m unstoppable (see e.g. Chicago Marathon or any random erg test from my college rowing days). When my mental game sucks, I cannot handle endurance events (see e.g. GA ING marathon).
At mile 50, I could barely keep going. I was averaging 15mph, and was barely staying upright. At this point, my head was pounding, I was lightheaded, and was trying not to vomit all over my bike.
When I got to mile 54, I decided that I was not going to run. I wanted this all to be over with. I felt horrible, and not just “I’m competing in a half-ironman horrible.” And, I knew my time was going to be at least an hour slowing than my HIM PR. Without a hope for a PR, I thought, why the fuck go on? Right? So, I gave up.
Sure, I felt horrible. I wanted to vomit. My vision was blurry. My head was throbbing. But, could I have completed a half marathon? Sure. Of course I could have. I could have done that in my sleep. Was it worth landing myself in the hospital? Probs not.
Do I think I made the right decision? Don’t know…still deciding.
T2: As soon as I crossed the line into T2, I saw my dad and Brennan. I ran over to them and gave Bdog a BIG scratch behind the ears.
And then said “Dad, will you be mad at me if I don’t run?” I felt seriously guilty for dragging him down to a race that I wasn’t going to finish…so, I considered finishing it. Because he was there. But, he said he wouldn’t be mad. So…I packed up my stuff in transition. And left.
Run: Yeppers. Didn’t do this.
Lessons Learned: There will be more on this later because I plan to devote an entire post to learning from a DNF. But, biggest lesson learned? Shit happens. Also, I like hilly courses. Also, my brain can fuck me over.
Ok, anyone else ever DNF-ed? What did you learn from it? And, how did you move on?
A public defender super heroine by day, I am a cupcake baker extraordinaire by night. And come weekend, I am an IronPerson. I deal with an NPR addiction daily and I dream of one day having Carl Kasell on my answering machine. I strive to be the best fur-mommy I can be, and when I have time, I'm learning to be a grownup.
22 Responses for "Eagleman 70.3 Race Report"
You were a rower in college? Ahhh now I love you even more! I rowed in college too, and for a while I doubted anything could ever be more mentally draining than a 2K. Or worse, 4x1500m at 2000m pace… until I met the last three miles of the marathon, that is.
These lonnnng endurance events are just a whole different ballgame, aren’t they? I have no idea how you do this ironperson stuff. It’s flat out crazy. You probably feel crummy about the DNF now, but give it time — it’ll turn around and you’ll get your retribution. Go get it, girl!
Oh Pen, I’m almost in tears reading this! I know exactly how you felt with the negative self-talk seeping in mid-race. I look forward to reading the rest of how the day went. I know that you are a strong, capable woman who just had an off-day. Don’t let it get you down!
I almost DNS’ed the *one* triathlon I did (and it was a sprint distance!) because I was mentally unprepared for the open water swim and I had a panic attack. Somehow I managed to talk myself back into it (out of fear of shame) and managed to make it through.
Don’t be too hard on yourself. There’s always going to be another race that you will be able to PR in. You’re completely right, shit happens and sometimes you are not able to control it.
I didn’t run a half-marathon once because I conveniently forgot to train for it at all.
I DNFd a few times in high school, all due to freaking myself out. Since then, I’ve refused to drop no matter what…though I’ve also never attempted a tri.
I’ve read a few Eagleman reports and it just sounds like it was a rough day out there with the heat and everything else. And I think you were smart to drop before putting yourself through more hell – physically it sounds like it was the right call.
The mental aspect is one I think is harder to get over.
Till then…regroup. Always another race!
((hugs)) negative self talk is the worst during the race. once those words start flowing it’s so hard to shake em! keep your head up because you are strong and powerful and amazing. even if you might now feel that way right now
Oh Pen! You are not a failure or a quitter! DO YOU HEAR ME?! Not finishing sounds like it was a SMART decision. You were obviously very dehydrated and running a half marathon would probably have landed you in the hospital. What breaks my heart is the thoughts that were running through your head! I can absolutely relate because I tell myself the same things when I am having a bad race or even a bad training run. They simply are not true! Keith calls this stinkin thinkin and it makes me sad that you go through it. You are AMAZING, INSPIRING, and A FANTASTIC ATHLETE! YOU ARE! Hold you head high and remember that you are so much more than the sum of one race!
One, good job on taking super cute photos with the honorable justice snugglypants BEFORE the race. Two, all the mental weakness crap can just go out the window, because there’s a big difference in overcoming signals from your body that say “my legs are tired” versus ones that say “OMG MOTION SICKNESS HEAT DEHYDRATION DEATH COME QUICKLY.”
I have DNF’d at mile 2 of a half marathon, but it turned out that I had a pelvic stress fracture, so I “moved on” with the help of lots of percocet and learning to swim with only my arms. I’d say it was the right thing to drop out, but really I could have saved myself a lot of trouble and an ER trip if I’d swallowed my pride even earlier and took the DNS instead.
Even smart DNFs are a terrible feeling. Give yourself a pat on the back that you survived a tough aquabike, and stay hungry.
i enjoyed this recap thoroughly.
i think u did just fine. just fine.
i was thinking today about how i used to dream about running marathons (i used to love half-marathon distances..and was doing great in the potential speedy department). Now, I can’t jog across the street to save myself from an oncoming car.
I think u are terrific. Nuff said.
and u look very cute and trim.
aww girl, I feel ya! Listening to your body is much more important than finishing a race. It is not easy, but worth it. I have to DNFs and I think they were both smart choices. HARD, but smart.
There will be other races!!!!
How about the fact that you swam 1.5 MILES?!?! And then immediately biked OVER 50 MILES!!! That is more than most people do in a week!
I’ve never done any races like that, but I have always heard the menatl aspect is the hardest part. I think you were smart to stop when you did. No amount of pride is worth putting yourself in the hospital.
I’m not happy that you were disappointed with your dnf, but I was happy that we got to spend an extra two hours together before you drove back to GA. Think how hard that drive would have had you continued the race!
i hope this motivates you to do another one and be better! you need the negative talk while doing the race…us readers should leave you little messages that you can put throughout your ipod.
I am so sorry it didn’t come together for you…that just sucks. There are sooo many variables with a 1/2 Iron. It seems that something just went screwy with your body, which happens to all of us. It is just lame that it was a peak race. I hope you aren’t beating yourself up about it, but by golly, I can’t imagine that you would have been much happier to run 13 miles in agony. Hope you healed up, patted your doggy, hugged your dad and set your sights higher.
Hey Penny! I’m sorry to hear about your race. It really sucks when you plan for it to go one way and you have a completely opposite experience. The good news is, you got in your DNF for the year and perhaps your athletic career. I DNF’d at Gulf Coast last year as I was training for my first Ironman, much like you. Mine was a physical pain that was too much to bear by the time I hit mile 2 on the run. SO I quit. It was hard, not going to lie. I was pretty mad at myself for quitting but when I looked back on my experience it was the right thing to do. It made me realize I should have had my first DNF at the Chicago Marathon in 2008, but that’s another story. haha. Learn from it and move on. You are good and you are strong. Don’t forget all of the good races you’ve had. Also, Augusta’s swim is hard to compare to any other swim. Wetsuits down stream with a current is always going to be fast. See you at MOO!!
I know how hard it must have been for you to walk away, but you know what, I think you were listening to your body and were just being very smart. I also know how hard it is to stop those negative voices. Please don’t be hard on yourself. You’ve accomplished more athletically than most people ever do.
[...] off, thank you all for your kind words about the DNF. I’m starting to move on and do feel better now. Time to gear up with the Ironman [...]
Um, yeah, I DNF’d at mile 3.2 of a 4 mile race two weeks ago. How embarrassing is that, huh? So I hope you feel better despite the obvious disappointment. Move on, train better, and plot your revenge accordingly. I know I am.
I’m so sorry to hear about your DNF. I almost didn’t quit my first half marathon and I was devastated that I even had those thoughts, so I can only imagine. I think you can learn from this though, and it can make you stronger. I always learn more from failure than success. Having trouble throughout the half marathon level headed me a little bit and made me really respect running and I learned I shouldn’t have gone into it so cocky. I think this will only push you harder during your training for the next one! Good luck with recovery!
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