IM70.3 Eagleman was my preview race for IMMD. I worked hard and felt ready. Believed & Knew.
Swim ended up cancelled due to wind. The National Weather Service issued a small craft advisory meaning that not of the small safety craft could be on the water. No safety craft, no athletes in the water.
The minute they announced hat the swim was cancelled you could actually feel the tension in the air go down a gazillion notches and people were actually jovial...about doing an expensive brick.
I was actually un-bothered. I have swam across the frigid San Francisco Bay with slap yo momma chop and swells. I did the Ocean City Swim where the swell and waves were so bad that I am amazed I survived it...and so didn't The FireMarshall who walked the beach the entire swim to make sure I got out. The Choptank? Yeah, it was gonna be rough but with the return only be 4ft deep - I'd walk that damn swim if I had to. GET OUT OF THE DAMN WATER BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY - PDQ (Pretty damn quick)
Whelp, I didn't have to so I chilled at the Mid-Maryland Tent till it was time to go to transition and line up with your bike.
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SWIM: NO GO
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As for the run...a colossal cluster fugg. HOW MANY DAMN TIMES does your coach, other experienced athletes, YOUR OWN DAMN SELF...have to say: "NOTHING! NOTHING NEW! NOT A DAMN THING NEW ON RACE DAY.
You know how many times...ALL THE TIME and when you do it and pay the price, YOU LEARN. Hard head equal a soft ass.
So, what I do? I have been training both bike and run with my hydration pack. I love that damn thing. It works. I'm comfortable with it and I load it up with what I can tolerate. I have NEVER (knock on wood) been sick or had GI issue during a race...until Eagleman. I had this brilliant idea...because I couldn't figure out how I was gonna refill my hydration pack for the run, that I would just wear my hydration belt and refill the bottles on the course. DUMB BYOTCH. A mile into the run, that belt was digging into my stomach and weighing on my hips and back. My back started hurting, my sciatica started flaring up. It was too damn heavy and uncomfortable. I drank one of the bottles, emptied the other and dumped my edible nutrition (except my Hammer Gels) and figured I would get what I needed from the aid stations.
YOU ARE A NO GO AT ALL OF THESE STATIONS. I tried the flat syrupy coke - retch. I tried the too sweet gatorade - retch. I tried to swallow down anything they had at the aid stations to each and none of it would stay down. I was in the SUNKEN PLACE. I had no idea how I was going to make it. My stomach was doing somersaults. I tried to wog and, yeah, that didn't go well. I was in that dark place where you just want to sit on the ground - lay on the ground - and quit.
Full transparency...even though my friend and idol, Pat McNabb said "There was no crying in triathlon." I sobbed for about 2 min and then channeling a little of David Goggins from his book "Can't Hurt Me."...I HTFU. I changed my perspective. I lifted my head and asked HOW BAD DO I WANT IT! I remembered the words of that wise sage, Rock Balboa - paraphrasing - how much can I take, how much can I suffer and STILL MOVE FORWARD.
I checked my watch and decided if walking was going to be it then walk as fast as I can while keeping whatever I can in my stomach. It came down to walking a 17 min pace for about 9 of the 13 miles. It was brutal, but I kept moving foward. I was going to make the cutoff. I would survive to learn from my folly.
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Two miles out and I could hear the music. I could hear the announcer. Many of my MMTC friends and RipIt family had passed me and encouraged me on. I came around the corner with less than a mile to go...and the crowd of MMTC/RipIt family was running toward me. Screaming and cheering. Word got back that I was sick and struggling...and I burst into tears. Tears of joy of overcoming and victory.
RUN: I SURVIVED
GOAL: 3:15
ACTUAL: 3:48
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Onward to IMMD!