My Next Journey

It was really early when I had to get to the race-site Sunday morning

It's been not quite 8 years since the last time I did an Ironman triathlon, and I find myself sitting on a plane right now, flying across the country having done what I intended to do last year, which was to compete at USAT nationals in the Aquabike Half Iron distance event, and hopefully qualify for what would have been this year's world championships. This year, I did just that, and I'm now left in the position of deciding what I want to do about it.

There's a lot of reasons behind my quest here, but we all know what it comes down to.  If you qualify, you get to represent Team USA, and get to buy (yes, buy...nothing is provided for you at this level) one of those cool as hell triathlon kits for Team USA with your last name printed across it.

Just kidding. It may be a little bit about that, but it's about so much more.

I've had a difficult year--anyone who knows me is aware of that. A year ago, I wound up coming down with a rare reactivation of Epstein Barr virus (that thing that's responsible for mono in most teenagers and young adults). Yep, I was one of the lucky ones--I got to experience that twice. But I won't belabor the point--it was easier the second time around, and I already blogged all about that mess.  I withdrew from last year's nationals and entered the race for this year, feeling that it was too much of a risk to put my body through a 56 mile ride in the condition I was in.

That was followed by the usual holiday stress--you know how it never seems to be the panacea for weariness that you'd like time off work to be, by leaving you fresh and recharged for the coming year? Well, it was as expected.

The beginning of this year saw my work life becoming increasing stressful. I was training for a century ride in Palm Springs, and then I wound up with a case of cellulitis that we never really figured out what the cause was, although I joked about how I'd been bitten by a tarantula. In retrospect, I shouldn't have joked about being bitten by a spider. That leg infection took a couple of weeks to recover from, and I wound up riding a 50 miler with a couple of friends at the event I was going to instead of the century.

Bike reassembled and ready to race

A series of complications in both my work and my personal life led to what I've casually called my nervous breakdown (blogged about ad nauseam), which took me 4 months to get back to work. I recovered physically first, and eventually grew back into all of my normal mental faculties--I'm pretty much just left with the scars of "I am not putting myself in a position for that to happen again."

I'm still a mess--I'm always a mess--but I've always been a mess.  I'm not worried about being a mess.

I threw my back out somewhere around the 6 week mark of being back at work, knocking me out for a few days until I could be mobile again, and shortly thereafter really got bitten by a spider. That thing left a hole in my arm during the first week, but has since healed up very nicely.

Through all of this, I've managed to maintain enough fitness that I still have the occasional workout that makes me think I can actually ride a bike, and that I can actually swim.  I haven't been running much, so let's just not talk about running.

I was talking with a friend last weekend, and talking about how I have difficulty sleeping, and how during the month of September, my psychiatrist switched up one of my drugs on me and caused a month long period of massive sleep deprivation.  I really wanted to believe I could switch off this drug.  I still want to do that, but it needs to happen in a more controlled fashion.  My psychiatrist very rightfully lectured me for not getting a hold of her sooner.  Anyway, I was telling my friend how I've always had difficulty sleeping, except for periods in my life when I've been in some sort of heavy training, and I joked about how nobody pays you to train for 5 hours a day.  It's possible that my formative years spent face down in a pool twice a day set my body up to the point where it needs that level of activity to balance itself. It's also possible that extreme exercise is just my form of self medication.

The race in Miami went well, though it was far from perfect.  The water was hot, and the swim was overcrowded.  I went my slowest half iron swim split, probably, in all of my time competing.  The official measurement was 83 degrees, though it felt like swimming in a bathtub.  I don't do well in warm water, and every stroke felt like effort.  Multiple times I swam around people, sometimes being surprised by a sudden run into someone, and multiple times, as I swam around people, I was climbed on, as if the person I was passing sought to gain something by stroking repeatedly on top of me. It screwed up my body position, and couldn't have helped them. I only had to kick forcefully once to let someone know that if he/she was going to draft, to just stay the hell off my legs.

The bike course was flat, and had a number of sharp 90 degree turns.  I think there was a bridge with a minor 5 foot climb at some point, but this race is the race by which flat courses should be defined.  The wind was dead in the morning, for about the first two hours or so of the ride.  I was averaging wattage at what my best half iron split was and figured I'd be coming in around the 2:38 mark for my bike split, as I passed the 30 and 40 mile marks. Then the wind hit, and it hit with a vengeance. It was as if Mother Nature swooped in and said, "Ha! Triathletes...I'm gonna knock you all back by 5 minutes over the last ten miles."  Oh--did I mention the humidity?  I put down 5 bottles of fluid during that ride and never needed to take a piss. The temperature may have cooled off that morning, but without evaporative cooling, a SoCal boy is going to have issues.

Emotional Support Bicycle ready for return trip home

I did what I set out to do, which was to grab one of the available slots for age group worlds next year.  I also beat the hell out of myself in the process of doing it--to say the least, my year of personal issues left me less than optimally trained, and I think I was at or slightly better than my best half iron bike split.  I'm paying for that today, with just general soreness, and specifically soreness in my spinal extensors (just think 'old man sore back' and that's about it.)

I'm left to wonder--am I doing this?  Do I want to do this?  Is it that I just was enamored with wanting to qualify for this team, or am I really interested in getting back into this sport in the way that I was when I set my best time in an Ironman?

I'm of two minds. I know that the stressors of work and my career will be at odds with the training schedule I will need to be on. I've been doing both my job and this sport for long enough to know what each of them take, so there is going to be conflict. On the other side, my four months of being out of work proved to me that the balance that I've been trying to maintain for some time isn't balanced correctly, and life is more important than work.  I need to find a way to strike a different balance, and find the door that lets me have that balance.

When it comes down to it, I qualified for a USA National Team, even if it is a masters-level age group team, and next year's race in Almere is exactly the sort of thing that quenches my soul.  Pursuing that may be more than a goal about a race.  It may be the thing that puts my mind back at peace, as it was before the breakdown, and before all the psychoactive drugs.

This was my view, lying on the ground after the bike was over, wondering if I'd be able to get back up again.  Pretty, huh?