First Olympic, Along with Many Other Firsts...

It has now been a little over three weeks since my first Olympic Triathlon in Morro Bay, CA. I have had a lot of time to reflect on race day and the race. I learned a tremendous amount about myself through the entire race, even in the moments that I felt like quitting. I had more ailments for this race than any other race I have done in my life and there were some psychological barriers as well for me during the race. 

The Morro Bay Triathlon in my mind was no joke. It was my first ever Olympic triathlon and I have no other races to compare it to; but to the Sprint distances that I have done before. Even then, I still believe the Morro Bay Tri was no joke. 

I had been battling a broken toe and some respiratory problem, that would leave me breathless and short of breath, just minutes after starting to work out. I found that the toe; was not bothering me nearly as much and was feeling pumped and excited for race day. I got my registration race gear, got my usual pre-race pedicure and we found a local spot to have dinner the night before. As dinner passed, the nerves were starting to set in and we had headed back to the hotel to make sure that my bag was packed to perfection and would be ready for the race start without a hitch. 

Well my morning started off with a hitch. Not just a small hitch; but Aunt Flo coming to visit. I woke up over an hour before my alarm clock to the nauseating cramps. I tried to go back to sleep and maybe got a on and off half hour more of sleep. Now the race nerves were compounded with having to deal with my period. My friend Alex told me a story the day before about how in her half iron; there was a women on her period and just dripping blood down her legs on the run. All I could think was "that is going to be me...". I got ready and put on my race gear: tri shorts, tri tank and my sports bra. My friends drove the car down with my bag and I rode my bike to warm up the legs and hopefully pedal out some race nerves. 

The transition area was just starting to get pretty busy and packed. I found a spot in the back loop of the transition area, so I would have equal distances to run in and out from transition. I got my gear all set up and positioned perfectly. I was short of breath setting my gear up and my chest was feeling worse than it had the day before. I took a few minutes to just breath hoping that I would soon regain my breath. From there I knew it was going to be a fairly rough race. Not to mention, my difficulty breathing was compacting my nerves even more for the possibility of not being able to finish. All that was left to do was let some time pass and then get my wet suit on and head to the water. 

Swim start. I got my wet suit on and zipped up and I stared down the course and the buoys in the water. I did a short warm up, got the blood flowing through the arms, and again became short of breath. I figured I would push through the swim and see how I felt getting out of the water and see if I could even continue with my breathing. The announcers yelled for us to start and all the pink caps dove in kicking and pulling; hoping that the pack would pull me for a little in the start. I reached the first buoy, noticing that my breathing was getting rough. I toned down my swim pace and continued to push to the cone on the beach, to complete my second lap. During the second lap, I wasn't scouting as much and was zig-zagging to the first buoy. After the first buoy on the second lap; my chest tightened and I was dying for a breath of air. I slowed some more in hopes that I would make it to the beach again. Taking a minute to roll onto my back and backstroke for a few strokes. This was the first time competing in my wet suit, and thank heavens we went for a swim the day before so I would understand the feeling of swimming in the wet suit. Yet another first of many in this race. First time competing in my first ever wet suit; with my first ever, official wet suit swim the day before. 

T1. Getting out of the water, I was sucking at the air hoping for any relief, but felt I could continue on to the bike portion. I checked my watch and was at 37 minutes. I felt that I had a decent swim even with having to slow down quite a bit to breath. I jogged to my bike and started getting everything stripped off and put on my bike clothing. My transition was not fast by any means, but I was primarily focusing on breathing. I was so short of breath, I couldn't even take my nutrition I had at my transition. Not to mention this was my first race using cycling shoes, instead of my running shoes and pedal cages. 

Bike Start. I headed out onto the bike and immediately was still feeling like I couldn't get air in. I started off on the bike, nice and easy; giving myself time to just breath. On the start of the bike, there were many people around me and there were a few people passing me, I passed a couple people, and then there were a few of us at the same pace. I got my nutrition cubes package open and was trying to snack on some nutrition, but it was making me feel worse. I finally played some verbal judo in my mind and started to match pedal strokes with breathing patterns and started to feel better.

Then came the split for the Sprint and the Olympic. At the split, I found myself starring up at one of the biggest hills I would/had ever climbed. I started up the hill and immediately, I was back into trying to suck air in and feeling my hands and feet going numb and my vision narrowing in. I was over the halfway point to the top of the hill and knew that if I didn't hop off my bike, I was moments away from passing out and falling. I focused on walking as quickly as I could and at the same time trying to get some oxygen in and get some feeling back in my hands and feet. I am a Paramedic back home and have seen people hypoxic (air hungry) before and knew right then, that if this was someone I met in the field, that I would not let them continue on and it might be time for me to stop... In my mind though, there was no quitting and there was only finishing. My fingers tips were purplish and above my bike gloves my skin was purple/ashen color. Once I reached the top, I hopped back on and took it easy. 

I was only a quarter of the way through the bike and I was already feeling like there was no way I was going to make it to the half way turn around and then back to the run and complete the run. Cars were zooming by me on the Highway 1. The coastal winds were brutal. They were blowing at me sideways and head on the entire way to the turn around. There were a couple points where I was fighting the coastal winds and more and more hills; and I was breaking. I was crying wondering how I was even going to make it half way. What if I made it half way and felt that I couldn't make it the rest of the way? Was there someone to take me back to the transition area or was I on my own to get back? I had reached a low and found myself wanting more than ever to quit. Quit is not in my vocabulary. So I yelled at another cyclist asking if I was close to the turn around and he told me I was a turn away. He was not wrong and I couldn't have been more excited to see the turn around. 

Well, reaching that turn around I realized I had to pee more than ever. Luckily there was a port-a-potty and I stopped to pee and take care of the Red Devil. The thoughts of quitting disappeared and I was ready to finish the bike. I had a second wind and a second round of mental confidence that I could get to the run. The way back I enjoyed the view and the ride much more. The hills were still there, the cross winds were still there; but most of all I was still on the course pushing through the pain. The last portion of the bike, was hard. The winds became worse around the Morro Bay area and my quads were tightening up. 

T2. Coming in I found Alex and Jenni and there faces were a relief to see; but there were so many people leaving from already completing the race. I was extremely discouraged and all I could think was I still had a 10k run. I changed quick and started running out of the transition area.

Run Start. As I turned around the transition area, the start of the run; my chest started getting tight and I knew the run was going to be the worst. As I was leaving the main area for transition and finishers area; Alex met up with me and started running with me. Her encouraging words and optimism helped me keep going forward. My chest was my biggest hindrance and found myself having a very slow run and walking more than I had initially anticipated. The run was gorgeous. When I was not freaking out about my breathing or dying to get air in, the course was fun and gorgeous. Through the trees, on the boardwalk through the beach bushes, through the neighborhoods of Morro Bay and out onto the massive Morro Bay beach. Running along the waves crashing in, listening to the birds calling, looking out to the sea, seeing the massive amounts of sand dollars and shells, and having a running buddy Alex chatting to me. Finally the beach started to look less massive and the path to the finish line was coming into view. Seeing the finish line and knowing that I was going to complete the race, I had a sudden release of happiness that worked its way into a few tears. 

Crossing the Finish Line. Seeing the finish line come into view and the short distance I had to go, the pain and fear that I had developed in my mind all passed away. Jenni and Alex were cheering me on and the select few volunteers still there supporting the last few of us was overwhelming. At the finish line, there weren't any finisher medals, but it was more the thought that I completed the race. The race organizers unfortunately had not got the medals prior to race day, and only one box of medals showed up on race day. So needless to say, my late finish, I was not going to be awarded a finishers medal. We took post race photos and I got my post race drink and could not have been happier.  Though in my mind I still could not believe that I had finished.  

At the end, my mind had won the race long before I won the race. I ended up pushing through my mind and still making it to the finish line. At the end of the day I realized I had much more in me and probably could have pushed myself more. I let my mind get the best of me but I learned that no matter what it says I can push through anything that I am set to finish. I found the flaws in my training strategies and now know where I need to focus more on in the off season and from here on out in any further training and races. My supporters, Alex and Jenni, were live savers and made getting through the race a bit easier. For my first Olympic race, my first race out-of-state, my first race with a wet suit, my first race in cycling shoes. and the multitude of ailments; it was overall a great day that I will remember for life.