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The choice was Kellowna Marathon, 6 weeks!! after IMC. The bonus was that I was now in a different age group so my time had to be 3:15:59 or under. The race was in pouring cold rain, the wind had blown off lots of distance markers so it was hard to pace. At half mark I was 2 min ahead which was good as I could now slow down and bad as I was afraid I went out too fast and gonna burn out. Then the cramps started and I had to walk, then stop and stretch and the time was ticking. Then I walked and run and stopped again and wanted to cry and was pissed at everything. Then again started to jog and calculated that I just might make it in those last 59 seconds. Then I stopped again because of cramps and hat do sit down. F.... this all. Then I started to power walk and then to jog and then to run and then stopped again. Somehow I made it to 5 km to go and picked up the pace. Maybe, just maybe with few seconds to go in those golden 59 seconds I might make it. Then I saw my GF and she was hollering and yelling 200m to go, move your ass, go go go, I don't want to run alone in Boston...So I sprinted. Full tilt. One last glance at the watch, 3:15 and change. Fuck it, all or nothing now. Almost there, through the pouring rain I can see the tents at the finish line....now I can see the yellow timer above the the finish line but can't see the numbers...few more meters....I can see the numbers 3:15 and, shit can't see the rest...3:15:45 and finished. 15 seconds to spare and crashing into the arms of first volunteer. A pint of IV and few hot blankets later I recovered a bit. Well yes...I was crying.
I wish I could say that.
Went a little off course in the swim... twice. Swim 10 minutes longer that expected and not just because of the navigation.
Did not have power meter on the bike then. Pushed too hard into an unexpected headwind - got fooled by low speed. Slowed down second half. Was on track for a 6 hour bike split - longer than planned. All was relatively fine until 70 miles in when my feet started hurting really badly. Had to stop every 5-10 miles to take the shoes off and stretch the toes. Yep same shoes as training, and rode 100 miles every weekend for months prior to the race. Hasn't repeated. Bike split 7 hours.
Then got a heavy nose bleed in T2 that took 40 minutes to stop. I'm not prone to nose bleeds.
Then finally got to running and discovered that my knee didn't work too well. Walked 7 hours. Carefully. Knee pain hasn't repeated since. Discovered later that my seat was about 1 cm too high when I built the bike. Maybe that was it.
Finished 11:30 PM. Planned about 6-6:30 PM.
Only good part of my first IM was my lady waiting for me with a backpack full of warm clothes and food something other than sugary race calories. I think she brought a toasted bagel with peanut butter and that tasted sooooo good.
And I flamed out. 32km, apparent seizure, ambulance, get out of here kid.
So I decided to can long distance. I was pretty (clinically) depressed for a couple of years, but eventually made my way back on the bike, and later the pool as well, and found I really enjoyed duathlons. But that long distance bug kept gnawing. So fall 2015, after a summer of decent run training, I decide to have another kick at the can and race another marathon, this time in Hamilton, Ontario.
And I flamed out. 32km, what I thought were neurological symptoms (by then I knew I don't have epilepsy). No ambulance but day over.
This time it took me a lot longer, but by early 2018 I knew I had to get that monkey off my back. By now I had a coach, who refused to believe my crashes were caused by neurological problems and said that they were just garden variety bonks, maybe made worse by my TBI. So I spend 6 months running lots, and properly incorporating race nutrition in my training. And I signed up for the other marathon in Toronto in the fall.
I went out way too fast. I ran 4:13/km for about 30km. Then came km 32, and I crashed, again. But this time I *knew* I could finish, even if I had to walk. That it was safe to do so, that I wouldn't hurt myself any further (except my poor quads). So I walked some, and I shuffled some, and by the time km 40 rolled around I was running again. And running in downtown TO, I was overcome by emotion, and I cried for the last km. I think this was the first time since my accident I cried.
I finished in 3:13. About 13 minutes slower than my projected finish time at halfway, and about 8 minutes slower than my goal time. But I BQed with room to spare, and I finished.
Citizen of the world, former drunkard. Resident Traumatic Brain Injury advocate.
The moment at the UCI Tour de Beauce when my teammate and I found out that he had taken the overall win after we rode the breakaway all day to make up almost 3 minutes on GC. I buried my self all day to make that happen, ended up 5th myself, won the team GC and was part of the first Canadian win at the race in a decade. We didn't know for sure we had won until they announced from the commentary booth so it was a crazy mix of shock, relief, exhaustion and elation.
Professional Athlete: http://jordancheyne.wordpress.com/ http://www.strava.com/athletes/145340
I live in Santa Rosa and ride the course all the time. The 2019 Ironman is still Chalk Hill twice. It is funny, that Chalk Hill Climb isn't very big but there are 5 turns all that go out of sight to what are "false flats." You think you've reached the top but you haven't, 5 times LOL! Enjoyed reading this, no good place to piss a few miles leading up to that, and you want to capiltalize on the speed after so you still can't pee.
If it weren't for them I would have never continued to try and qualify for Boston. I had to show them that when you set a goal you have to do everything you can to reach it. Took me 4 years to qualify for Boston.
I said I never want to run another marathon again but last Tuesday I started researching marathons to run so I can qualify again!
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I ended up getting 2nd overall because of someone in a wave behind me (6 seconds gap!). I didn't care!
I did 6 Pack Challenge http://www.yukanrun.com/6-Pack-Challenge.html in 2015. Usually there are about 300-500 runners depending on a race.
At one of the races after the first mile I was in the top 10 and then slowly and painfully overtaking other runners.
I wasn't particularly fast, the finish time was something around 1:26-1:28, but in was enough this time. I was not sure about the place, but on the finishing stretch, I heard something like 'Here comes number 3!' from the announcer. All pain disappeared and I don't remember even breathing. Just flying to the finish.
As it turns out I was flying a little too fast on that run and by mile 15 I was negotiating with myself about how much to walk at aid stations. It got ugly but I held onto that picture the whole way.
Nice!! I was known for having a solid wheel and it's always nice to hear.
Which track do you ride?
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But my most "Story" worthy moment was an IM at Whistler. After the finish line I just wanted to go back to my hotel, take a shower, and get something other than gels into my body. I had a very short walk through village to get back to my room.
Still wearing my kit - I was doing the Ironman "walk" that we all know so well the few days following a race. My family was in tow behind me - including my kids. The plaza I had to walk through was full of people.
As I got to the center of the plaza someone started clapping and suddenly the entire plaza stood up and clapped and cheered. I got a standing ovation the entire walk through the plaza. The clapping and cheering was great but the best part was the look of pride on my kids face.
Good times. Kinda makes me want to race again.
Disappointing, but I was pretty proud of myself.
The other was my first podium at a reasonably well attended race. (Olympic). An age group podium doesnâ€™t get one in any hall of game, but the race went perfectly and I finally hit my time that is only possible if things go exactly right. (For me, of course).
Amateur a lot of things, professional a few things.
Fast forward to my first IM in Wisconsin last year, I had the best swim of my life (not fastest, but most focused and strong), embraced the hilly windy bike and of course after grinding through the run my Mom surprised me again with my medal as I came through the arch. She had missed me out on the bike and knew I was struggling on the run, it really hit home when she said I knew you'd be damned not to dig deep and finish this one strong. I had rejected her influence as a runner for so long in the early part of my life and so for her to meet me at the finish of my two biggest races to date brought on all the emotions!
Taking on my first 50 miler in the mountains in October so that is likely to bring a few to rival these! Great thread!
I started running in May 2012 after I got suckered into a 5k with my kids. 5 months later I tried to run a marathon on 3 weeks "training" because it was supposed to be a one and done. Through the 20 mile mark I was somehow on track for a sub 4 hour run with a run/walk strategy but a few minutes later I started crying uncontrollably. It wasn't emotional, just the worst bonk of my life before I knew what a bonk was. I got pulled off the course at mile 23. DNF'ing this race meant I was hooked. I started researching training plans seriously and after a month or so of recovery put a 24 week plan together. 371 days after signing up for that first 5k I BQ'd at the Buffalo Marathon and had lost 80 pounds in the process. About 50 feet from the finish line I threw my arms up in the air and screamed, "I'm going to Boston!" I didn't plan it and was on the verge of falling apart for several miles when emotions took over. I don't know what I expected, it was just a raw reaction to the moment. I look like a maniac in the finish line photo.
By 2018 I had a nice annual Boston streak going when I completely fell apart in the cold/rain on Patriot's Day. I hated the race last year and was on the verge of giving up marathoning entirely. I tried to requalify about a month later and walked off the course at the halfway mark. Marathon's sucked so I spent the Summer focused on finding joy with triathlon and a plan to do a last minute BQ attempt at Erie in September off of a Summer of quality swim/bike/run. 5 days before USAT AG Nats, and 5 weeks before the Erie Marathon, I got side swiped by a deer while cycling 30mph downhill and wound up with a nasty shoulder separation. The day after the accident, enough e coli had incubated in my gut from an open water swim the prior weekend that I couldn't keep any food in me for a week. With 4 weeks to go before the last chance to BQ, I started walking, then jogging and finally running. The weather at Erie last year was absolutely perfect and somehow I got lucky with a BQ right before registration opened. I was fine immediately after the finish, but a couple minutes later it hit me just how freakin' lucky I'd been. Tears started rolling and I didn't care who saw. I walked past a bunch of people on the way over to the shuttle bus, some people gave me funny looks, others just averted their eyes, but I just kept walking. What a relief!
I coached a 3200 runner who won a state title that we didnâ€™t quite expect. We knew he could podium and possibly be top three. He ran off the shoulders of the leaders until 400 to go.
Boom. He dropped a 60 second closer to win with a margin. I lost it. Tears everywhere. He dropped the biggest damn hammer on them, it was silly.
Then a few years later I had a girlsâ€™ 3200 relay team win that I wanted to have win so damn bad I could taste it. Took the lead with 200 to go and held on. I was so nervous for those last 35 seconds or so, I literally get weirded out just picturing it.
I don't do multisport, well, I did do a du recently. More on that in a second.
Either way, I'm about 2 1/2 years into actually training and doing stuff on the bike. Or otherwise. I did a few fondos out of town that were just a fun thing to do. Then I had my first races. A road race, a gravel grinder, another road race, and finally the recent duathlon.
You grow up with different people as your "buddy" you share something with. As a kid, it was my dad. My mom couldn't give two shits for my travelling golf competition ventures. I don't think she ever saw me compete one time. She'd be out shopping with my sister. But dad was there, and that mattered.
My kids are coming of age now to do things, and I'm there with them.
So, over the years, your spouse also tends to become your buddy. Over time though, it's been apparent that despite a great relationship, they don't care much at all for my hobby. Not an active dislike so much as indifference.
This didn't matter much until that du. See, I don't run. But, it's a great off-season bike workout. Great time economy for the aerobic shock to the system. More comfortable being outside running at near freezing than biking at 20mph. I worked my butt off to be able to competently run far enough quick enough that I wouldn't look like the slowest runner ever.
I mentioned that the event was pretty family friendly and a good time of morning for them to meet me out. I mentioned what time I'd probably be done with the first run, and the bike. She mentioned jokingly "oh, we're not morning folks, but that doesn't sound too bad".
For me, I killed the first run. Plenty in tank for later. Bike, the bread and butter, awesome. Second run, also killed it.
Both runs were the fastest I'd ever run in my life, grade school included. The second one hurt real good.
I'm coming into T1 for my bike, and it's probably only 8:30 or so.....so didn't expect to see anyone. I come back and drop the bike off in T2 and look around. Ok, it's about 9:30 now. Head around the loop on the run and out and didn't see anyone. I see the 2mi sign on the way back and know it's time to blip the throttle one last time. I come in where everyone is. Everyone that came out to volunteer and watch were so nice and encouraging. But, I didn't see anyone. I finish, then look around. Imagine Jimmy V running around the court at the Houston win. Nobody. It's ridiculous, but if I had enough salt and water left in me I'd have cried in the car on the way home.
Later, they could see my disappointment and promised to make it next time.
My similar story involves parents who could not care less I played and loved field hockey in high school. My mom came for a short while and asked to leave, as it was boring, and my Dad only countered with how I should take up some other sport instead (soccer or cross country).
I had many emotions at my first triathlon, that I signed up for once I had proven to myself I could swim 1 mi in a pool. (Iâ€™m an AOS that had developed a sizeable amount of swim anxiety between my youth and starting again as an adult). The 800 m OW swim in water with lots of tall weeds, combined with being swam around by the later waves, had my heart at a red-line and despite having stopped at several kayaks to catch my breath, I could barely stand up by the time I reached shore. â€śRun!â€ť cheered the spectators as I, dizzy, marveled at this achievement.
I proceeded to pound myself on the hilly bike (thatâ€™s my thing) and could barely stand after done so, but pressed through the also hilly 5k run and arrived - heart-pounding, legs and back stinging - at the finish line filled with other racersâ€™ friends and families. This moment was at once one of the highest I had ever been, followed by the emotional crash of having no one to share it with. And I sobbed.
But I kept at it because the high of crossing the finish line is freaking fantastic. And I try to do some of my races now with friends since they â€śget itâ€ť while my S.O. does but doesnâ€™t, if you get what I mean (heâ€™s sat through 3 of my 140.6 races, so is now and forever off the hook).
To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive.