A Race Report?

Who writes a race report for a race they did a year and a half ago?  Truth is I've written a race report for Ironman Texas 2014 about 50 times in my head and each time it would sort of drift off and never get put down.  There are all kinds of reasons I've never written a race report, but they all lead back to one thing.  You write race reports because you're proud of what you've done.  Maybe you finished a big race, had a PR, done something really awesome you want to share.  On the flip-side, maybe you DNF'd but learned something, maybe you had a bike mechanical and man was that unlucky because you were so prepared.  Whatever the case may be, you write a report or tell people about it because you feel a sense of accomplishment in what you did, win or lose.

That's why I don't have a race report for IMTX 2014, because I"m not proud of it.  I'm not proud of how I approached it, I'm not proud of how I participated, and I'm not proud about how I felt about it after it was over.  Here's some things I know.  I'm an ungrateful jerk.  Last may made me a 2 time Ironman finisher, that's something a lot of people can't say.  There are so many people out there that work SO much harder than I do, and can't get to the finish line.  I'm sitting here saying that my second Ironman finish gives me no pride, and that's a jerk thing to say.  It makes me sound like an ingrate, and I probably am.  The fact is that when I finished IMTX in 2014 in a time of 16:21 it was the complete opposite of the emotion I felt when I finished IMTX 2011 in 13:43.  In 2011, I could have DNF'd and still felt incredible pride in what I had done.  I would have been disappointed, sad, mad and all kinds of other things, but I would have been proud of what I had accomplished because I had earned that.  I worked my tail off and no matter what happened on that day in May, I deserved to finish that Ironman.  In 2014, it was the total opposite.  I hadn't worked, I hadn't trained, I signed up and toed the line out of some sense that it was going to say something about me.  To say I overlooked the race both is and isn't true.  I knew it was going to be a hard long day and that I wasn't likely to be close to my previous time, but I had a sense of malaise rather than a sense of anticipation, excitement, or even fear.

The day started out in a very unexpected fashion.  The swim was wetsuit legal for the first time and do to this, or luck or a combination, I pulled out a 20 minute PR on the 2.4 mile swim.  That's a huge time improvement over my last Ironman.  It was the last time anything went "right" for me all day.  It gave me some confidence, maybe I wasn't the worthless out of shape slob I thought I was, I mean I busted that swim out and had a great time, let's keep it rolling!

One of my biggest excuse makers that I had going into race day is that I had cracked the frame of my bike 2 weeks before the race and was racing on a bike I had ridden once for any length of time.  I had a great new bike, the bike was fine, but I wasn't.  From basically the start of the bike, I began to talk myself out of the race.  What are you doing?  Look at your heart rate!  I feel a pinch here.  My tri suit is rubbing me there.  All triathletes do this a thousand times throughout a long race day, but this was different, every thought I had started to weigh me down, because I truly didn't feel I belonged out there.  Then the wind happened.  I could recount all kinds of things, like the time I was going 9 miles an hour on a flat straight road, and that's all I had, or when I realized half way through that my speed and cadence weren't calibrated correctly and so I didn't really know how far I was or how much above or below my effort I had been doing.  All these things "matter," but they aren't enough to ruin you.  Well they were that day for me.

All of this is just the lead in to what really is the summation of the whole experience before, during, and since this race, and that's the marathon.  A 26.2 mile run.  I walked 24.8 miles of it.  I came out of the change tent with absolutely nothing in the tank, and two huge blisters ( I still don't know how) on the balls of my feet.  Again, those "matter" but they weren't anything that would have stopped me in 2011.  Nothing that would have stopped someone who wanted to run strong and finish well.  The truth is, everything leading up to this point could probably have been chalked up to a bad day, bad conditions, bad circumstances, but on the "run" things got very dark.  I hated every step of what I was doing.  I didn't want to be there, I didn't want anyone to see me, I didn't deserve to be on the course with people who were trying so hard to do something so awesome.  I think if I had walked off the course and handed in my chip, I may have wound up in a better place mentally.  The way it went, I kept walking, I kept telling myself how weak I was, and weakness grew and won.  I told myself over and over that I didn't deserve to walk off the course and go take a shower and go to bed. When I crossed the finish line I feel like the only thing I had proven to myself is that I could spend a long time, a REALLY long time beating myself up and telling myself how worthless I was.

Maybe it's no surprise considering all this that the last place I wanted to be after that was swimming, biking, or running, but it's actually worse than that.  I didn't want to train anymore, but I knew I was "supposed" to want to.  I didn't even want to go outside anymore. So instead of saying to hell with triathlon and training and just stepping away, I kept going out to run, out for rides, and I would quit every time.  I hated it.  I became an expert at failing.  At quitting.

This seems like a whole lot of whining and moaning about a lot of nothing, and honestly I feel as much like if not more of an ingrate as before, but there's one difference.  This is the last time.  It's the last time I tell this story.  It's the last time I feel undeserving, ungrateful, and inadequate.  I'm simply hitting the reset button.  I've loved this sport that has given me so much for a long time, and I'm ready to love it again.  The worst part about my last Ironman might also be the best part, I took nothing from it.  There's nothing about it I carry forward with me, positive or negative, it's kind of like it didn't happen.  That makes me sad, but it also makes me happy I don't have to hold the baggage.

So who writes a race report for a race they did a year and a half ago.  I guess I do.  I wrote it to let it go.

Time to TRI Again

I started reading through this old blog and especially the last few posts I've made on here that are sad and devoid of much hope.  It's a funny thing to sit here today with a much different attitude, although, according to those last few posts, things have only gotten "worse."  I've gained even more wait, I'm 55 lbs over my previous racing weight, and I haven't really made any progress in getting back to regular training.  All that being said, I feel AMAZINGLY more positive about where I am and where I'm going than I have for months.

There have been a few changes, I've started a nutritional plan that is working.  It's a little pricey, but it is portion controlled and tasty, and I love it.  I've lost 6 pounds, a small drop in a large bucket, but it's enough to curb my bad attitude.

Biggest of all, as I sat around this morning looking at my friends social media posts about finishing Ironman Florida and Austin 70.3, I said out loud to Sarah, "I really want to do another Ironman..."  Her response, Florida registration opens at noon.  So yeah, I'm registered for Ironman Florida 2016.  I'm not scared, I'm ecstatic.  For the first time in a long time I'm HOPEFUL.  That's really the feeling I've missed the most.  I can stand being slow, I can stand being hurt, I can even, to a certain degree, stand being overweight but I cannot abide being hopeless, and I have been for almost a year.

I am also not naive.  This is going to be a TOUGH year.  I have to almost start from scratch.  I only say almost because I at least know what this takes.  My body has forgotten.  It's soft and comfortable and not used to 5:00am swim practice and 5 hours on a bike.  It will remember, but it isn't going to be easy.  I can't wait to do another Ironman.  I can't wait to train again.  I can't wait to be a triathlete again.