I realize I’ve been two ironmans and around the world and back since my last update. It’s been nutty—barely surviving Challenge Taiwan, flying all the way back to Tucson with just 7 days there to prepare to fly all the way back to Australia and be away for 6 weeks. So I think I need to back up before I post an update on last weekend’s most recent adventure here in Port Macquarie at Ironman Australia.
A brief recap of Challenge Taiwan: it sucked. Not the race itself—I love this event and in some sick way love the wild wild east-type challenges that racing in Asia brings . . . like finding food I can eat, having to stop for tour buses on the bike course, etc . . . it’s always an adventure and a special kind of toughness-contest. Racing under these circumstances always seems to effect a sort of instant-bonding of the pros at the event and after two years together now, my reunion with the Challenge Taiwan regulars is an annual highlight.
But my race that wasn’t was the part that sucked. I think I’ve only had an experience this bad at the first Leadman250 a couple years ago when my body was really messed up and I hadn’t slept in the better part of a month. All I wanted to do was pull over to the side of the road for a nap, and that’s what happened in Taiwan. Putting any kind of pressure on the pedals seemed to require me to reach deep down into my chest and gather strength that was not there. I was empty inside and could hardly keep my eyes open. I kept looking for a grassy patch on the side of the road to lay down, but eventually convinced myself to just keep pedaling til T2 and then, I figured, I could lie down.
So that’s what I did: grabbed my transition bag and curled up in the fetal position on the asphalt in the change tent and tried to sleep. Apparently, though, although the 400mg of caffeine I had taken on the bike hadn’t seemed to do anything for me, it did keep me from sleeping. Much to my dismay.
I could not figure out how in the world I was going to drag myself through 26.2 miles in any way, shape or form, but since I could not sleep, I figured I may as well get going. I literally could not come up with one reason to finish besides that I’d done it 63 times before and that was a very hard-earned streak. I told myself it didn’t matter how slow I jogged but that I just had to keep doing that til I got to the finish line. And that’s what I did.
I finished and I still was not convinced of any merit to what I had just done, but one thing I have learned over the years is that there is always a benefit to finishing even if it isn’t apparent until one, two, or three races down the line. If nothing else the benefit to me of keeping my streak intact is that I save myself the mental anguish of debating whether or not to finish on any given day—and I know for a fact that a lot of those days when that battle would have presented itself turn out to be winning days after all. That’s the nature of this sport.
And since I am so far behind here, I can promise that while after a day like that, most would not advise flying around the world and back and doing another ironman in 14 days, I do have a happy part two of this update coming next.