“Goodbye my lover…goodbye my friend. You have been the one…you have been the one for me.”
Poet laureate(?) James Blunt once said that and I can only assume he was confronting the same emotions I was at mile 8 of the Ironman Louisville marathon when I realized that my Ironman career was over. Not with a bang, but with a whimper.
Background:
Many of you know my journey from 220 pound ex-swimmer to cancer patient to Greek adonis to Ironman age group winner. I fell in love with triathlon and its dominant mother figure, Ironman, when I first saw Tim DeBoom run down the Energy Lab in 2002. By 2004, I was an Ironman, by 2007 I was swimming with Tim in Kona and competing in Hawaii. This offseason, with my run as a major weakness I took the calculated risk (along with my coach) to increase my run training and turn myself into a runner. Coming off a season where I herniated a disc in my back, this was a shot I needed to take just so I could “know.” Now I know.
Swim:
The swim was effortless, with the goal being to find a pair of feet to latch on to and key off of them. 2 swimmers immediately took off past the turn around and then were undecided where the current was stronger-one swimmer went left and one swimmer went right. I chose the guy to the right because he had to stop and adjust his goggles, allowing me to latch back on. I was 3rd out in 55 minutes, I was in a great spot and happy to be out of the water.
Bike:
This is where my running injury really affects me. I have soft tissue damage in my piriformis, glute medius/minus and pulling in my hamstring due to dialing up my run training. So the goal was to be conservative and bike well below my capabilities and try to enjoy it because as many of you know, training through injury takes the joy out of a lot of what is required to compete and if I couldn’t find joy on race day then it would force me to acknowledge the writing on the wall. With an average power of 226 (well below my 260 at Kona 2 years ago) I still managed to have a decent bike split and was the lead amateur off the bike. Only, there was no joy. I was waiting to flare, racing not with the love associated with being alone and in the lead at a race with 3000 people, but with the fear associated with racing with an injury that you can only hope is not going to flare.
Run:
I got off the bike and immediately felt great! I thought “wow, you can do this” and I began to hope. Andy Dufresne said that “hope is a good thing, maybe the best of things” and I had hope that not only would my injury not flare, but I could finally take all of the run training and turn it into a good marathon. The first few miles flew by and I was through 10k in 43 minutes and realized that I could just jog it in and still do really well! That hope turned into a harsh reality, and by mile 7 I was running by swinging my leg around because the muscles wouldn’t fire. By mile 8 I was stopping to stretch. By mile 9 I was walking.
Ironman is a marriage, and the love was gone from my marriage. My mind has been trying to overcome what my body has been telling me for too long, and I just can’t do it anymore. I love Ironman, but Ironman doesn’t love me. I saw as she moved on to the athletes behind me who have much more ability than I do. Ability is a funny word as applied to Ironman-there are so many facets. You need the desire, you need the engine, and you need the chassis. 2 out of 3 is fine if you want to be average but as long as you’ve resigned yourself to that you can do Ironman for a long time. I can’t, so I’ve decided to give it up completely and focus on cycling and finally give my body a break.
“And I still hold your hand in mine, in mine when I’m asleep.”
Maybe I’ll be back, maybe I won’t be. I’ve come too far to have regrets and I’m looking forward to following the rest of you and rooting for you from the sidelines here on Slowtwitch. It’s been fun ;^)