Make It Good

"In this proud land we grew up strong
We were wanted all along
I was taught to fight, taught to win
I never thought I could fail

No fight left or so it seems
I am a man whose dreams have all deserted
I've changed my face, I've changed my name
But no one wants you when you lose

Don't give up
'Cause you have friends
Don't give up
You're not beaten yet
Don't give up
I know you can make it good."

--Peter Gabriel and Kate Bush, "Don't Give Up."

Last September at the Big Kahuna Half Iron Distance Triathlon, (now the Ironman Santa Cruz 70.3), I got third place in W35-39.

And I was shocked (shocked!). I hadn't even checked the results.

I had only attended the Age Group awards ceremony because my friend Kortney was being awarded third place in W30-34. I had just snapped some photos of her on the podium, and I was walking away when the announcer started reading the times for W35-39. When I heard the third place time, the thought in my head was "DANG! I was so close! My time was very similar to..."

And then I heard my name called. The photos of me on the podium capture me doubled over in laughter. When I heard the time called for the woman in second place, laughter turned to a sigh of regret. She was only 61 seconds faster than me. In a race that took us each about 5 hours and 43 minutes to finish, 61 seconds is a drop in the bucket.

I was mentally kicking myself, because in my heart of hearts, I knew that I could have easily found 61 seconds on that course (and remarkably, not all of them in T1!).

I knew deep down that there were two times on the course where I gave up on myself and took my foot off the proverbial gas.

I had a tough day out there, much tougher than I was expecting. I'm not suggesting that I would ever think a half iron distance triathlon is easy. It's not. It's 1.2 miles of swimming (and that race, my first "true" ocean swim), 56 miles on the bike, and then a half marathon run. Not easy ever. I was in pretty stellar shape, I started the race in a good mental place, and I had the impression that the course was "just what I liked:" rolling hills and flat-ish run.

Not so much.

I set a personal record on my swim that day--though the official time says I swam like 41 minutes or something, it includes the fairly long run from the beach to the transition. Out of the water in under 40 on a half is ridiculafast for me. Celebrate good times, come on!

But then I hit the bike--usually my strongest leg of the race--and I was immediately struck by the conditions. The course was an out-and-back on Highway 1, and we had a tailwind with a net descent to the turnaround. I was torn between maximizing my strength (bombing a hill) and saving energy for what I knew would be a tough return. Rather than a course of rolling hills, we were challenged with long stretches of low-grade descents and climbs. This equates to a loss of momentum and sloggy grinding.

About 3/4 of the way up one of those slogs, I mentally threw in the towel. Of course I had to keep turning the pedals over lest I FALL DOWN, but in my mind, I told myself "this isn't happening today."

Once on foot, I slogged through a hilly dirt path. When I saw other athletes already on their way back from the turnaround, I gave up again. I saw my near-9-minute splits (slow for me), shrugged, and told myself I was "only in it for the scenery anyway," and I smiled genuinely at the beauty of the views from the cliffs over Santa Cruz.

I crossed the finish line and jumped in the ocean.

When I saw the final results, I discovered that I actually had the fastest bike split of any woman 35-39. And the second place woman only beat me on the run by a few seconds.

Son of a gun.

Coach Rob said, "If you're having a tough day out there, everyone is."

And, "Always check the results." Noted, sir.

I will be racing the Ironman St. George 70.3 race in 10 days, and I considered giving up on the race. The past few months have been unexpectedly difficult. In February, the thought flickered across my head that I would CRUSH IT, that it was an "A Race," and that I might even set a personal record on the half distance.

Life had a different idea for me. The stress of living in San Francisco has worn me down. I broke down mentally and emotionally long ago, but kept trying to pretend that I was holding it together. A human being (which, to my chagrin, I am) can only compartmentalize mental and emotional stress for a short time before it begins to take a physical toll.

Stomach troubles.
Sleep troubles.
Iron deficiency.
Energy... bottoms out.

Moving.
Training.
Doctor appointments and procedures.
Car woes.
Apartment hunting.
Stress.

I nearly gave up on a lot of things in the past few months.

A friend (who cares about me) suggested that I consider backing out on St. George. And I considered it.

I'm going. It's not going to be my fastest race. I likely won't win the bike for my age group, or PR my swim. But deep down, my love of racing has never been dependent on whether I stand on a podium. It's a new course in a beautiful place in my "home" state, and a dear friend will be traveling to support me.

I'm not giving up on myself. I might be approaching this race like it is a very expensive, well-organized training day, but I'm not giving up. I'm not going to hurt myself, either. I will get through it, just as I have the challenges of the past few months.

Race day is the best day!

See you out there.