Crushed… but it’s what I do with it now

The stage was set for crushing my Ironman PR. Instead the day crushed me. But I will not let it define me. I will not let it destroy my spirit. I will be back on the 140.6 course and I will officially finish. 

 
In T1 I was greeted by Elysha and she helped me get ready for the bike. It was much different going into the change tent when it was packed. I PR’d my swim by 12 minutes, so it was a different scene than last year!

I went to call for my bike and who’s there to hand it off to me but Glenn! Sarg said he saw Glenn who had been given the word that I had made my way so he was waiting. Made my day!

As I headed out I went to turn on my Cateye and it slipped out of the holder and bounced on the ground. It had been working half the time anyway so I just left it. I made my way out to the Bee Line trying to catch my legs and my breath. The head wind going north was bad. And it got worse as I got to the Bee Line. It just sucked. But at the top I saw my family and Klayton and it was a nice reward for climbing against the worst winds in 11 years on race day (I’ve heard anywhere from 20-30 mile per hour head winds). The tail wind going down was a nice reward too. As I pedaled down (until I ran out of gear) I saw how miserable everyone was climbing.

 
I came down the Bee Line and saw Robin. I came into town and the crowd just re-energizes you! I saw Francis, Andrea, Kerry, Danny, Nicole, John and Mark. I had made it back into town to start loop two within my goal time of 2 hours and 10 minutes (hoping that I could hit 16.5 mph at least). I headed out for loop two and the wind had gotten stronger. Half way out I stopped to pee and stretch my legs. Then I tried my best to pound out the rest of the climb. There were times I just had to stare at the pavement under my wheel to keep my focus. On the way down my vision got blurry. Not sure what that was about. I was 100% on top of my nutrition and handling it well.

After the 2nd climb I was really dreading going back up the Bee Line again. and from the look of the faces around me, I wasn’t alone. At this point I’m realizing that once again the race is going to come down to the run. So I tried to just finish the bike so I could have some legs left for the run. I had worked hard on the run this year, I knew I could chase it down, so I prayed to God and finished up the bike.

Coming off the bike I wanted to leave it behind me. I know that last year’s Chrissy would have never made the cutoff. I was pissed that I wasn’t able to really show how much my bike had improved, but who can control the weather. I surprised myself by not getting as frustrated as I could have in the past. It was the longest I have ridden in that strong of head winds and cross winds. It just sucked. As I was coming back down the Bee Line my vision was weird again and I was shocked to see how many people were still coming up the road behind me, at least 300 people, maybe more. (last year there was only about 50.) My time was slower than last year, but it was a fucking hard bike. Have I said that enough 🙂 I saw Jessica, Brenda, Tina and Catherine as I came back in.

Going into the run my legs felt great. Sarg reminded me to shake it off. I shouted back across transition “I know I fucked the bike, it’s in the past.” I then apologized to the volunteer helping me and she just laughed and said it wasn’t the worst she had heard.

I used base salts for the run and they worked great, no cramping. I also was drinking as my plan called for. I had a hard time stomaching gels and I just felt like I needed to go to the bathroom. But nothing. So I kept going. I realized I hadn’t tightened my shoes, so as I did the shoelace broke. Mother Fucker. Oh well keep going. I did a decent amount of running, my Garmin showed my pace was okay and getting faster, my splits online tell different. So I need to figure that out, same thing happened at the Monumental.

I came back under the bridge and saw a lot of familiar faces. I saw Ryan as I crossed Priest. I came across the infamous mile marker 19 where my chip was taken last year. As I made it around to mile 9 and 10 I felt like a toy winding down. Sorry to be disgusting but I was starting to feel toxic. I had to crap yet I couldn’t. It was making me feel awful. I was not moving well and I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open and my mouth closed. Sarg met me and he told me I needed to pick up the pace. I went down the hill into an aid station and got tunnel vision. I couldn’t focus my vision, I couldn’t really hear what people were saying. I was covered in salt, not just a dusting, but crystals had formed all over my skin. I had the cold sweats, although I wasn’t sweating. My hands were numb and I couldn’t feel my water bottle in my hand. I got back to the aid station and asked for the medic. I stumbled on the ground and they said my hands were freezing. The wrapped them in a tshirt and trash bag as that was all they had. I started nodding off and they made me keep my head up and my eyes open. When the medic got there I had sipped a bit of water and could at least talk a little bit again. I told the medic that I hadn’t peed since about mile 70 on the bike. He asked if I was taking in water and I told him the best I could. He said it was my decision but it wasn’t sounding good. At this point I had been sitting waiting for about 15 minutes and the 9 pm cutoff was getting closer. It took 3 people to help me up, so I decided it wasn’t worth the risk so I got in the golf cart. Jessica came riding by on her bike and I pointed at her and said I knew her, but I couldn’t process who she was. She started hugging me and I immediately started crying. I felt this rush of embarrassment that I had let everyone down. Everyone that traveled to cheer me on. Everyone that was supporting me from every facet of my life. All Ironman crew that were so excited to greet me at the finish. I was so sad myself, I knew I had put the work in, the day just didn’t come together like I had hoped.

I went to the medic tent and I swear it takes a fucking act of congress to get an IV in there. I had to sip chicken broth for an hour before I could finally pee and leave. The poor guy next to me kept asking for an IV and they made him lay on the ground with his legs up on a chair, wrapped in a moving blanket before they would consider it. As my friends and family came in to check on me, I started crying all over again. As I looked around at all the finisher hats and medals around me I cried. As I heard rally of the finish line just 100 feet away from me I cried. FUCK. I was here again. I thought if I could finish it last year, I could surely finish this year, and faster. I’ve heard over and over that’s Ironman, just getting to the start line healthy is always a feat in itself.

I cannot thank everyone for their love and support. It’s overwhelming and I haven’t even begun to go through all the Facebook messages, posts and comments. I’ll get through them all, I promise. It’s so important to me and I appreciate it more than I can express.

What’s next? I have a plan. I have some thoughts. I’ll save that for another post. Just know that I AM NOT GIVING UP. Some would say you’ve failed twice, time to move on. But I know that it’s in me, I know I need to evaluate and approach from another angle. There’s more to write, my journey is still unfolding; it’s unique and it’s mine. It’s been ugly and joyous, and I’ve shared it all with you, thanks for following along. It will continue to keep getting better. That much I know.