Patriot Half Iron, June 19th, 2010 - Freetown, MA 61.2 of 70.3 miles
I awoke well rested before the 4:45am alarm. While transition opened at 5am, it was staying open until nearly 7am and my swim wave, the 10th, wasn't scheduled until 7:40am, so I could be relaxed about the whole set-up. I showered, grabbed my sport drinks from the fridge and freezer, saw Joe and Jill from ECC arrive for the aqua-bike on my walk over to transition at 5:30am. I got body marked my race number, 282, had my bike checked, set up my transition gear with hundreds of other athletes, made a couple of phone calls and headed back to the car for the towel I forgot. Once there I found that I did not actually have my car keys. I knew they weren’t in my tri-bag. Finally after looking through the dorm room and my bag for the 3rd time, I assumed I accidentally put them in the computer bag before putting that in the trunk before locking up the car. I resigned myself to let it go until after the race, II had my phone in any case. I used the bathroom in the dorms and when I went to wash my hands after, I saw my keys and Gatorade bottle innocently waiting on the shelf above - just where I had left them 90min earlier. Whew! Bullet dodged - universe looking out for me. I triple checked everything else my hands touched until my pre-swim at 6:50. That was fine, the water was nice and cool, the glassy lake surface in full sun and I felt strong.
The race was running behind so I didn't actually start my swim until almost 8am. But watching 9 other waves head out before me let me see that in every age group there were 2-5 that lagged behind, slower swimmers, and I felt better. I stayed to the outside right when we went off but had to stop 6 or so times for my goggles filling up. They were fine on the pre-swim so it was frustrating to have an issue during the race. Eventually I figured out that each time I sighted ahead, I would open a small gap, sighting less meant more corrections. Eventually I had to start balancing the two issues and called on the energies to relax. Some long bits of the last 20min were actually enjoyable and I was passing other slow swimmers!
I tried to have a quick transition but my system is too complicated. Towel dry, apply sunscreen, socks, compression socks, sneakers (I added speed laces to the new Romero running shoes), race belt, sunglasses, helmet, bike gloves, bike (finally), 4:35.
I knew that being in the 10th wave would not put many people around me to ride with. I concentrated on 'catching up to the crowd' one biker at a time. Drank every 10min the first 30, ate at 45 since there were a series of hills, both up and down, at 30min that had me constantly shifting up or down. Soon I was in the bike-long pack of an older guy, two women my age and two younger women. I would pass them on the climbs and the long down-hills that they would coast on and then they would pass me on the flats. There was so much jockeying and shifting that I forgot all about the nutrition aspect of the bike leg, except an occasional sip of my ROC2 drink when my mouth went dry, until my stomach would finally scream out “FEED ME!” Alarmed, I'd suck down a Gu but then try to catch whoever passed me while I was snacking.
That happened a few times in the 90+ minutes of the first loop until I finally had to stop at the water exchange at the halfway mark because my back was sore and I was all out of sorts from competing more than stocking up on calories I would need for the run. I realized, on some level, that I was making mistakes that would cost me later in the race. Trying to address that, I let the 'competitors' get more than a minute ahead so I could focus on just. From my bike computer I could see that the start of the second loop was considerably slower than the first, 22km average instead of 29km by mile five of the loop. To make up for that I passed by the first two water stops again and unfortunately found myself just ahead of my 'racing pack' – passing me, they goaded me on, I took the bait, chased them, passed them, all the while realizing somewhere in my head that I was making my run really tough by my choices. The last time I saw my #1 competitor she said, laughing as she flew by, "Where do you live? I want you as my training partner!!" I tried to catch her but gave up after a mile or two knowing the bike was nearly over and I should just try to regroup. I was exhausted. It was my own damn fault for focusing on the competition and trying to beat the clock. Everything was sore, my back, and my neck. I was hungry, thirsty and out of energy drink. I tried to calm my body, ease up a bit on my legs, just lower my head a bit to rest my neck for the last few miles....
I was riding around a right-handed curve, hugging the inside of the lane, head down when suddenly the front tire caught the lip of the road and sunk four inches down into the soft sandy shoulder that had been 6-8inches to the right. I shout "SHIT!" and over-correct to the left 90 degrees making the bike buck out of the rough back out onto the road. My feet pop out of the clips as I veer wildly to the left and I try to use them to stabilize me as I over-correct right, too far, and just as quick my bike slid out from under me to the left, I landed hard on my left side, my back and left hip, my head slammed down back left - hard enough to slap me back into a sitting position, stars appear everywhere and impact pain throughout the back of my head. "Man that was a hard hit" I mumbled as a few bikers slowed and hollered to ask if I'm okay, one promised to send the medics. I slowly got up, stood a bit until the dizziness faded. I walked with the bike ~30 seconds, just moving ahead numbly, like a robot. The bike works, I work. I get back on and ride moderately trying to sort out my thoughts.
Again and again, the crash spun through my head. But that does me no good. So moving from the crash to what's ahead... I'm... As I look around me, no data is coming through… where am I?... I don't know what race I'm doing, what town I'm in for the race, or who I'm with. Okay, then moving on... how much further do I have on the bike? … Not sure. No idea, actually... Right, don’t panic. Next then… After the bike I have to... Now I was getting more than a bit concerned. I didn't know what came after the bike. I could remember most everything up to and including the crash. But I couldn’t think forward. I just kept riding, sure it would filter back. Only a couple of miles later, when I came around the corner and saw the finish, it all came back - Patriot Half-iron, here alone, nearly finished the bike. Check. And a shame… I seem okay, well, other than being a bit confused. Just get through a quick T2 and sort it all out on the run. I have 13.1 miles to sort it all out I think to myself.
I felt okay heading out of transition onto the run. I couldn't run the whole first mile though, too many thoughts spinning through my head, but got to the first aid station by 10:15. Not fast but that didn't surprise me after a crash like that. I just needed a few miles to shake it all out. It was much the same for the next mile, mostly running but some walking. But just before I got to mile 2, I was overcome with a wave of emotion. It was more like a post traumatic biochemical wave than any specific realization of "Oh my god that was bad!", but it was overwhelming. By the approach of mile three at 12 minutes, having needed to walk three times because of uncontrollable sobbing from the emotional waves now coming again and again, my head was really beginning to throb and I considered packing it in then. That's when the nonspecific emotional momentum gained a solid foothold on an actual thought – my disappointment at accepting a DNF (did not finish). A Tsunami of emotion now hit me. There was no way I could stop at that aid station without seriously alarming the folks there with uncontrollable crying.
That next mile, 3-4, was hard. I was nervous about my head, the pain was undeniable, but I kept trying to see if there was any way I could continue. Even at my best estimate, I figured six miles was my max. And why push myself two more miles? I tried to counsel the mess I was becoming. Every time I got myself under control and running again, it was like the physical response to running was causing the emotional waves. I finally conceded to my rational self. I stopped at the mile 4 aid station and asked for a ride back to the race start but didn't - no couldn't - say a word about why without breaking down. My head hurt, I was nauseous, emotional (surprised?) I couldn't even start the words without breaking down.
For the 25min before the aid wagon came there was some shade and another racer waiting for aid, I think it may have been Evan Schofield, stomach issues. I couldn’t rest though. Paced, drank ice water after ice water. Tried not to worry about my massive headache too much. When the Fire Department truck came they asked if we just wanted a ride back or to be checked. I hemmed and hawed and finally stammered out that possibly I need to be checked 'because of the bike crash and hitting my head pretty hard', then I totally broke down and before I knew what was happening, I had an oxygen mask, an IV, my vitals were all over the place, I couldn't stop crying - yeah - meltdown. That's when they called the ambulance, started an oxygen mask ad an IV.
I could confirm the crash = head hit and wound up on a back board with a neck stabilizer for a fricken bumpy as hell 40min ride to St Lukes hospital in I don't know what town. No phone, no ID - yeah. About the only rational self advice was let go and relax. I was shivering uncontrollably from the AC in the ambulance (my first ride in one). They took blood, cut my tri suit to put EKG leads, and attached an oxygen sensor. Each bump I felt in my lower back, from the long bike, and the back of my head, immobilized on a hard plastic board, from the impact. My vitals were all over the place from shivering, crying, trying to stop crying. It didn't look stable. And damn it was a long painful ride. Not much of a siren until the end. Each time I heard it I thought - 'that's me coming through...'
When you're totally immobilized and can't even move your head, you can't see much from an ambulance gurney and being moved around from the chair at the aid station to the ground to the gurney to the ambulance to the hospital halls - just overwhelming, even if one was perfectly healthy. They kept asking me questions, kept telling me to keep my eyes open. My answers were slow - just hard to process over the dim of 1 million other thoughts. Like where was I being taken and how would I ever get back and would harry get that awful call from a hospital hours away.
I continued to shiver uncontrollably; most of it just wet clothes, air conditioning, post race fatigue, back pain and head pain throughout the bumpy ride. Met the Asian doctor I saw twice for 30-45 seconds. Waited a long time for a cat scan. Another new experience. Answered endless questions, still shivering. Whenever I said 'bike crash' they replied 'Oh, motorcycle.' 'No - Bike, as in ten-speed. I was in a triathlon.' Blank stare. Pause. 'You fell off your bike??' 'It was a race... I was going pretty fast.' 'Oh. Right.' Polite smile. (Obviously not a very good racer if she fell off her bike.)
As the hours pass, my calves are cramping because they rolled the compression socks down to my ankles but didn't take them off. I have to pee, no one had come by in 40 minutes. Finally I find a way to sit up, neck-head stabilizer still on. And that helps the shivering stop, makes my lower back feel better. I call out and get someone to come around. 'I need a bathroom.’ I tell them. 'Oh - bedpan for you since you're immobilized.' 'Won't work,' I tell them, 'tri-suit, tri-shorts.' 'We have to find out if you're clear of head/neck injuries first.' 'Please go ask the doctor.' I beg. I hold it another 25min before the 'All clear' comes. I am so emotionally and physically exhausted at this point.
Someone from registration comes and gets my info, mostly wrong but I don't care. They call the race and secure me a ride. I wait 30 min. I call Harry, break down, tell him the story and we come up with a lie for my mom and sister. The doctors still want to check my blood chemistry to be sure I didn't overheat or get dehydrated which all the shivering pointed to. I'm a little skeptical since what would blood chemistry show after 61.2 miles and a crash and two IVs and two hours of shivering. Now that I'm sitting up, everyone is also averting their eyes from the huge wetspot on the bed that was NOT pee but just a wet tri-suit with bike pads from keeping cool in the run by dousing with ice water. I don't even try to explain. The whole event is so humbling.
I got to mile 4 on the course just before 1pm. I don't walk out of the hospital waiting room (more stories there but I'll wait on those) until 5:40pm. Now the explanations, thanks, story exchange with the co-race director, forget his name. They collected my stuff from transition. It's amazing how transformed the race site is just hours after the festivities end. I am hungry. Consumed my last Go after they let me pee at the hospital. I wanted to ask for ibuprofen there but didn't want the request to extend my stay by an hour so. By the time I left, still no pain relief. I talked with both race directors, gave one my car keys and that got confusing since I couldn't remember which one and the one I was with kept insisting I didn't give them to him. Eventually the other guy shows up with them and I am somewhat, momentarily redeemed. They helped me load my bike and gear but looked highly uncertain letting me leave on my own.
The ride to Norwich is not too long and all still light, 90 minutes, plus the extra three exits when I didn't see my sister's exit that I've taken at least a hundred times. As soon as I walk onto the end of their small dead-end street where the block party is winding down I am greeted with claps and cheers for my hard-earned race finish!!!! Yeah - even white lies can be painful.
Harry hands me a 20oz strong IPA (Arrogant Bastard), I get handed a huge helping of potatoes salad, one hot dog, one cheeseburger, an 800mg Ibuprophen and a slice of cheese cake. I'm not sure if it's all a good idea but I'm playing a role, telling the story. Staying close to the spirit of the events, if not the factual details. Things go okay until I see my mom giving me that look that I used to get in high school when she didn't quite swallow all the abundance of details of what ever tale I was spinning.
She looks me square in the eyes and asks pointedly "So - Did you finish?" I laugh, smile, "Yeah... more or less." "Well, which is it? More or less?" ... "I didn't officially finish if that's what you mean." (pause) "I called it good enough after mile four. I was tired." "Are you okay?" I quickly check to make sure I took of the hospital bracelet in the car - yeah. How does she know these things? Maybe not know, but sense... Yeah. She doesn't know, per se. So I continue my BS evasion - "Well, it's emotionally draining when you call it quits early on a race. And I'm exhausted from what I did do...." She finally let it drop but I did see the Patriot Half web page up on my sister's computer when I went in to use the bathroom. They didn't buy Harry's story "The run went real long, she got a massage, she's eating there to rest up, and she’ll be here soon..." He not that good of a BSer. Relatively speaking. He actually commented how spooky it as to see how easily I could spin a totally fictitious tale with no moral qualms.
Harry left early because Isabelle was at home alone having been allowed to opt out of the family party and last chance to see her cousins and Aunt and Uncle until some undetermined time in California. No comment. Well, other than that comment. And I guess I was hoping he would insist we all leave together, that I would follow behind him all the way home, just to be safe. Again, I think I am too good at seeming capable and independent no matter what I've been through. Okay, enough. I took Gabe and Rose home leaving at 10pm, fully loaded up on coffee. Home by 11pm, asleep by 11:10pm. Woke up before the alarm, fairly well rested, considering everything. Tired but not trashed. And no weird dreams. I was so happy. Again, relatively speaking.
