Two days before the big Rev 3 Williamsburg Half, 3 friends and I went to Busch Gardens. We walked through the entire park, eating, drinking, and riding. As someone who is terrified of the "stomach up your throat" feeling, I had to pick and choose my rides. I had successfully completed two out of four roller coasters before stumbling upon the last one of the day: Apollo's Chariot.
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| 210 feet drop, max speed of 74 mph |
"Come on, Michelle. You'll be fine." I didn't want to do it, but at the same time I didn't want to wimp out on the last big ride of the day. I reluctantly got in line, still unsure of my decision. We waited about 15 minutes in line before stepping up in the dividers to get in your row. I had to make a decision soon. "You can't even hear people screaming." "I just went on it, it wasn't that bad." As the four people in front of us were loaded into their seats, I turned to my friends and said I couldn't do it. My gut told me it wouldn't have gone well. I had nothing to prove, and wouldn't lose anything if I didn't do it. I had already completed two for the day, which was good enough for me.
My friends returned two minutes later. While waiting for the car in front of them to unload, my sherpa for the weekend looked at me shaking his head. "It's a good thing you didn't go, you would have totally hated it." Even though I wimped out, I did a little victory dance inside. My instincts were right and I made the right decision.
Flash forward two days to the race with a harsh 4:15 am wake up call. I stumbled out of bed, got dressed, and walked into the dark rainy cold. Setting up T2 and T1 was nothing out of the ordinary, aside from customized transition areas- very cool.
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| A little pro treatment for all competitors! |
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| Smiles before walking down to the beach |
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| An original drawing of the swim course |
17 minutes after the pro start all the pink caps (women 39 and under) jumped in. I swam out past a yellow sighting buoy. Stayed pretty close and on the course so I kept going. I felt sorry for all those suckers to the left of me that had to swim extra. After a couple of strokes the red turn was no longer in front of me, but to the right of me. Okay, no problem. After a few more I noticed I had to do a complete 90 degree turn towards the red buoy.... uhhhh what? I swam a couple more minutes: nice, easy strokes, sighting a couple times. Red buoy wasn't getting any closer and that's when I really stopped and noticed caps of every other color around me flipping on their back and asking for help.
Now if you think open water swimming is scary, or swimming in a current is scary, try swimming in open water, against a current, with everyone around you yelling for help. I grabbed onto a kayak not really sure what was going on. He told me the current was too strong and to take a break. I did and after a minute I went back out again. Swim, swim swim, still didn't get any closer. I stopped and grabbed onto another kayak. He said the water was going at 3+ knots. I had no idea what that meant.
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| Original drawing of the mystical red buoy not getting closer |
After swimming and stopping a few more times, everyone to my left and right were getting pulled, calling it quits. I asked if it would get better. No. I asked what would happen after I rounded the buoy. The current is still there for another half a mile. I asked if I could still bike and run. Maybe. I knew I had to make a quick decision. The longer I held on and asked questions, the further I was getting pushed back and away from the crowd and now very distant red buoy. I could keep trying for ___ more minutes and finish or just to get pulled later, or I could cut my losses now and still have a good bike and run.
And then a familiar feeling I had two days ago sank in. My gut told me to stop. It wasn't worth it and it's not like I had anything to lose. I had done this before, I can do it again another time. I gave it my all, but I knew instead of ruining the whole race I could still have a good bike and run. I didn't want to be a wimp. I didn't want to quit. But I knew that at that moment, whatever was going on, was not right for me.
I climbed on a boat and saw several other colored caps, many with tears in their eyes, sharing their battle story, how hard they trained, and how badly they just wanted to finish. I wish I had something encouraging to say but at the moment felt nothing but sadness and failure. They dropped us off close enough to shore to walk back so they could go back for more struggling swimmers. I took a few steps off the boat and felt a sting under my foot as I walked to shore. I dropped in my chip, gave them my number, then snuck back into the crowd of swimmers to run into T1. I got to transition and looked at my foot. I had cut the bottom of my left foot right at the arch. It stung a bit I figured I would be okay on the bike. I frowned at my sherpa glancing at me from outside the transition. "I didn't finish the swim. I got pulled in by a boat. I cut my foot. Should I quit?" After a few words of encouragement, I decided that I already quit once today. I couldn't do it again. I will keep going.
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| Ouchies. Two days after the race. |
I would be lying if I didn't say I questioned my athletic ability hundreds of times on the ride. Why wasn't I good enough? Am I really a quitter? Could I have finished? I distracted myself with the view of Williamsburg, nothing incredibly interesting but I knew the chances of me coming back (ha!) and ever riding in Williamsburg was slim. It was a rare opportunity and I had to take it all in.
Right after mile 40 was the biggest (and only) climb of the ride. As I was going up, a woman in front of me had dropped her chain. I knew she was going to fall any second, so I tried to avoid her on the left. She kept falling to her left, and I kept going to my left, until we both crashed and ended up on the other side of the road. (Talk about the universe not wanting me to race that day). I knew it was going to happen so the impact was mild, but something in my rear wheel began to click and brake with every rotation. I didn't have time to fix it so I hopped back on (after walking up the rest of the hill grrrr), unleashed the back brake and promised myself to get to T2. I had to keep going.
I finished the bike in great time (around 3:10) and continued onto the run. The out and backs on the run allowed me to see and high-five many friends on the team. The pressure was off and it turned into a training run for Florida. For the first time in a half ironman, I tried to enjoy the run instead of counting down the miles of torture left. My cuts started to hurt more through the run and the narrow running lanes and uneven pavement made them worse. The day was no longer about finishing with a great time, but about being mentally strong and not-quitting-after-already-quitting-once.
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| Are we having fun yet? |
I still wish I could have done it and it did bruise a little bit of my ego and confidence for Ironman Florida. It was definitely a learning experience and a reminder that you really can't have it all and be a rock star at every single race. But if I could go back on the boat and look everyone with tears in their eyes, I would tell them that if they were quitters, they would have never left the beach to begin with. I believe every single one of us at the race that day gave it their all. Nobody signs up for these and put in the training miles to half-ass the day when it comes. There's always another race, and another day, and as long as those who loved me before the race still love me after, everything will be okay.
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| Great TeamZ friends |
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| "Would you like a massage Auntie Michelle" |
