feeling lucky

had an appointment with my doc today. apparently i am 'lucky.'

doc was pretty impressed at the amount of soft tissue damage done by the bike cleat, most notably the puncture wound. (i guess fractures are less exciting these days? so 2010.) turns out Dude Who Stomped on My Foot with His Bike Cleat was mere millimeters from sending me to the OR to fix some ruptured tendons.

he looked me square in the face and said i was 'lucky.' i didn't feel it in that moment, i was actually more irritated than anything. but now, i feel it a little. maybe. my wee crack of a fracture will be healed in no time. i can stop wearing the boot sooner than later. i'll be back running in 6 weeks. compared to surgery, 6mo in the boot, and no running for even longer (all whilst trying to care for a highly energetic 18mo old), my lot doesn't seem so bad.

to address the 2.5 weeks of inactivity initiated by such good 'luck,' i went for a swim on Tuesday. i'm not even sure at this point that i still know how to swim. it's surprising the BSC staff didn't jump in and try to rescue me from what must have looked like a slow, forward motion grand mal seizure.

things i will do differently next time

other than, you know, not breaking my foot in T1.

note it is 'things i WILL do differently next time'. not 'things i would have/could have/should have done differently.'

time is helping the IMLou DNF wound to heal. i'm less embarrassed to tell people now. i'm not crying about it anymore (thank gawd.) i'm starting to get to the place where i miss the long rides and runs and am so incredibly grateful for having had the opportunity to train for a freaking IRONMAN.

there WILL be a next time for me.

reflecting on my experiences of the last year, i've come up with a few things i will change for next time, and a few things i want to keep the same. here they are, not necessarily in order of importance. (i'll make a color-coded spreadsheet for that later...)

same same:

1. my bike. love that sexy machine. i did not hate my bike when i got off of it, some 8-odd hours after starting the bike leg, which seems to put me in the minority. 
2. my 'have fun' attitude. being a back-of-the-pack-er, i'm not as prone to disappointment when it comes to my times/splits/place as those who finish near the front. quite a bit of interesting sports psychology research has shown that people that place 2nd, 3rd, or in the top of their AG tend to have lower satisfaction scores related to their sport than the last place finisher. of course not all second place finishers feel that way, but many do. i'm happy to stick to my happy place. at the back.
3. picking a race that fits with my family's schedule. having so much support there was unreal. i can't imagine doing it without my people. 

change up:

1. different bike nutrition set up. i need a new fuel/drink system. stopping to put my little baggies of accelerade powder into the bottles, filling them up with water, shaking them, etc ate up too much time. i'm thinking of possibly switching to the on-course stuff (Perform) or trying the whole EFS get up. any suggestions are welcome! just know the suggestions need to be gluten free :)  (i'll keep my solid food snacking a la Lara Bar/Chomps/salt tabs the same, though.)
2. lose weight. not in a 'ermahgerd i'm soooo fat' teenage kind of way. it's a pragmatic 'i could stand to lose 20lbs of fat' kind of way. let me say this: i am not fat. i am, however, at 5'6'' and 140lbs (pre-race weight norm, not post IM weight), at the top end of what's considered healthy via weight and BMI standards. i've had my body fat % measured (yikes!) and i do legitimately have 20lbs of fat i could stand to lose. biking and running will be easier and more efficient if i lose that weight. i'm planning on using Matt Fitzgerald's "Quick Start Racing Weight" plan for this purpose. 
3. get a power meter. let me say again. i love my bike. i, as the engine of that fabulous machine, could stand to get stronger. part of the next step for me is know what my power output is, and training to increase it. i'm looking at a few models: PowerTap, Quarq, Garmin's new pedal-based Vector, and the new Stages crank model. any input from you, internets? i'm kind of a geek about data, and can't wait to have MORE THINGS to add to spreadsheets. 

i'll add to this list as time goes on, but these are the little epiphanies i've had when daydreaming about my next race. 

i'm also working on a 'sh*t NOT to say to someone who just DNF'd an IRONMAN.' stay tuned!

DNF

my faulty timing chip may have lead you to believe i DNS'd. 'twas not the case. instead, i DNF'd. 

it may be too raw to ever do a full race report. the Cliffs Notes version goes like this:

• super nervous the week leading up to the race, but excited and giddy race morning.
• had the swim of my life. a full 20 min faster than i expected @ 1:25, all with my HR in the proper zone and little in-water contact.
• unluckiest T1 ever. a large man running through T1 stomped on my bare foot with his bike cleat before i even made it to the changing tent. i felt the ominous 'POP.'  
• cue instant swelling. bruising, blood, and pain.  powered through the pain, got on the bike.

3 days later, swelling has gone down a bit, still can't move my middle 3 toes

• foot pain was excruciating, to the point it made me nauseous/hyperventilate. ended up doing about 75% of the bike as a left leg single-leg pedal drill. overall bike 8:35, about 1 hr longer than planned. 

• got foot wrapped in T2 (and a med-tent lecture) before continuing on the 'run.'
• jogged out of transition on pure adrenaline. made it to about mile 2 before i dry heaved from the pain and started walking.
• limped the rest of the way, trying not to cry, until they pulled me off the marathon course at the start of the second loop. that happened at 9:50, 5 minutes after the cut off. 
• (i wouldn't have made it to the finish at the rate i was going anyways, it took me nearly 4 hrs to limp the first half.)
• cue instant sobbing, like a wee babe, into the arms of my parents.

still couldn't really walk on it the next day. eventual x-rays confirmed the metatarsal break, so my only 'finisher gear' from the race is a giant boot. doc said to use crutches, but i fucking walked 13 miles on it Sunday, i think i'll be okay without them, thankyouverymuch. 

on one hand i'm proud of myself for not quitting. i want the letters behind my name for IMLou 2013 to be DNFQ - Did Not Fucking Quit.

on the other hand, i'm crushed. i feel like i'm mourning a loss of... not a person, but of a something?  as ridiculous as that may seem to someone who has never not finished a race, that's how it feels. 

i can't believe it's over, that it happened that way. i don't want to talk about the race AT ALL to ANYONE except my keyboard (denial & isolation). i keep wondering. . . what if i had done such-and-such thing would i have been able to run or walk fast enough to finish? . . . what if i were just a little tougher, could i have run through the pain? (bargaining). i occasionally get mad at the man that stepped on my foot by complete accident (anger). i have cried. a lot. i don't think it's fair to call it real depression, but maybe the short term version of it fits (depression). i'll get to (acceptance) eventually. 

i feel horrible for making my family stand out there all day for ... what? me as a sobbing, limping mess? 

i feel horrible that the most selfless friend i have ever known came out to KY, took care of me race morning, took care of my kid and family, cheered me on, stayed awake for nearly 24hrs, and wasted a week of vacation time to do it, all for ... nought.  

i feel horrible that my husband missed a week of work during the busiest week of his work life yet  ... just to watch me fail at this goal. 

i feel mortified to tell my friends, family, and co-workers that i didn't finish (as well as re-explaining things on FB/twitter/etc. people, seriously. READ a post or status before typing "CONGRATS on finishing yayy!!")

i know, i know. 95% of the work is just getting to the start line, and i should be proud of that (i am.) i should be proud of how far my body took me (i am.) i know the pain and embarrassment will fade with time, the way the pain in my foot will fade. i know i'll eventually be able to see the DNF as a positive, a stepping stone, a learning process. but for right now, it sucks. hard. because at the end of the day, no matter how many feel-good emails i get, no matter how many motivational signs about not giving up people pin for me on Pinterest, i still failed. 

i am NOT an ironman. 

yet. 

signs

the family asked me for motivational/spectator sign ideas for IMLou. so, i asked google. this one is my favorite so far: 

"run now, poop later. never trust a fart!"

y'all have any favorites?? do share! also, i want to know all of my blog and internet friends' bib #'s who are racing! 

i never thought it would be this hard

to taper.

taper is making me feel weird. uneasy. like i'm not doing enough. only a week in, and i feel...squishy(er). i'm having a hard time not pushing myself too hard on the shorter workouts.

well, on the swim and bike workouts that is. i did something weird to my left foot on last weekend's 18 miler. the toe i broke 2 months ago started to hurt, no biggie but a skosh uncomfortable. i think i started to compensate in my gait, though, because after 5 minutes the arch of my foot under the big toe started to hurt. bad. like, had to walk. a lot.

so, of course, i am freaking out about that as well. it hurt too much to do my mid week run, so i did the elliptical instead (plus ice massage and advil.) i managed to do my 10 miler today. it still hurt, but not so bad that i couldn't run. in a way, it was probably good that my foot was a bit sore, because i think i would have gone balls out on that run, since i'm feeling so fantastically amazingly in-the-best-shape-of-my-life kind of fit. so, even though i'm a little freaked out about the pain (and may or may not have self-diagnosed it as a stress fracture) it was probably better that it was there. i've heard tons of stories about people who go too hard during taper and then don't have gas in the tank for race day. that would have been me today--burning my race legs out there on a long run.

and in case you've haven't been tallying my minor injuries and illnesses for the training season like i have, here's a breakdown:

• 100x head colds
• 1x sinus infection
• 2x gastro intestinal explosive disease 
• pleuritic chest pain
• quadriceps strain
• broken L 5th toe
• plausible/possible/imaginary L foot stress fracture

i'm sure there's more hidden in the whiny recesses of this blog. 

but it's all been worth it. to get to this point. even with a hurty foot, that 10 miler felt like a breeze. i finally understand what all of those previously annoying IM training friends meant by 'only' having a 10/12/13 miler and a 2/3 hr ride during taper. a year ago, it would have been ridiculously hard. now, it's a cake walk. 

i feel ready. let's do this. 

and we have bib numbers

#281, y'all!

sphincter moment

it is August 1st, 2013.

IRONMAN LOUISVILLE IS THIS MONTH. 

i am simultaneously excited, terrified, sad, happy, ready for these long-training-weekends-of-not-seeing-my-family to be over, not ready to stop riding and running and swimming so much, afraid that my best will not be enough, proud of what my body has done, and confident that i can do it. yes, i am that scattered. and yes, that is okay.

my last century ride was the hardest yet. it came the day after a 16mi run. and it was the first ride of this training cycle that i just didn't want to do from the get go. i did it, but my mind wanted to quit 100x after mile 50 even though my legs felt *okay. (*=definitely not awesome.) i had to take a few/many/multiple 15min pity party breaks to lie in the grass and whine about something or another. but i had plenty of time to think about the race. i am 100% confident that i am physically prepared to do the distance.

i am not 100% confident about the time cutoffs. so there is fear there. there is fear that i will lose this mental strength somehow on race day. there is fear of not being able to overcome obstacles that the course throws my way. rain? time cut offs? multiple flats? gi issues? other mechanical on the bike? uncooperative legs? nutrition fail? you name it, i've got some fear attached to it.

but in the end, i know i've done all i can to be prepared. and when the day comes, i'll be as prepared as i'm going to be, and that's that. most of the things that have been worth doing in my life (moving overseas, going back to school, getting married, having a kid, IM training, working as an RN) scared the crap out of me in the beginning. so it's okay to be afraid. it's something i just have to sit with right now. marinate in. feel it. own it. then i can move forward. not necessarily leaving the fear behind, but realizing it is a part of the process, and nothing more. i'm somewhere between zen and a compete mental breakdown.

how about you?

IMLP

last year, i was at IMLP as a medical volunteer. lusting over athlete village, the millions of dollars worth of bikes in transition, the chiseled athletes...

so jealous, yet giddy for each and every one of them. i got to meet/start some IVs in great people while the medical tent, from pros to FOPers to BOPers.

and i got to see this guy finish in, if i remember correctly, a course-record time:

needless to say, it was inspiring. inspiring enough to get me to sign up for IMLou a month later. this year we can't be out there physically, but we're there in spirit. best of luck to all of my real-life friends, blog-life friends, blogs-i-stalk-wish-we-were-friends, and spouses-of-friends racing tomorrow!

Go Jenn! Go Run this Amazing Day! Go Caratunk Girl! Go Kim! Go Aaron's wife!