from green to black

ironman : the emotions

so we read in my previous post that the ironman was a
very "feeling" race, i wouldnt say emotional because
things like pain arent emotions and things like anxiety
are related to one's state of mind which are more rational.

digging up history to write this post required me to take out
my painful training plan and diary. and i kindda got scared
at what i saw already. i saw the training divided into the
4 phases which i thought i'd go through. i realized that
my bricks where very haphazard but then again, i was
prepared to have a slower transition because i thought a
longer race allowed me slack in efficiency which had a
better trade off for strength in this short time period.
also the timing i allocated for trainings where 90% of my
pb. taking slower trainings for recovery put a dent in
my schedule as a preferred to listen to my body than stick
to a schedule. so a factor in my morale would be the training
plan.

then there was school. a 7-10pm lecture on fridays always
left me tired on saturday mornings.

then my job and social life, that practically consisted
of trips to the dentist. kindda sad socializing to do
which obviously affected the amount i could train and study
and at the most inopportune times.

the weather both helped and hurt. the wet and cold mornings
where i would dread and sometimes put off the cycle. thankfully
i still clocked about the full distance before i raced.

i faced great stress when illness stopped me from training
for 2 weeks. the experienced athlete in me knowing that
recovery was just as important. furthermore i was set back
by the doctors report of the condition of my lungs. i was
given steriods to stop the wheeze which never really stopped
limiting me to aerobic workouts only and blunting my speed.
i stopped taking the steriods even though he cautioned me
that i may face death because of fluid retention in my lungs
and i would be doing my ironman in heaven. i ignored his advice
and didnt continue with the steroids.

the race went better than expected at first when i left the
water with an all time personal best. and that was after
rookie mistakes like being unable to draft and swim straight.
i drifted out to the wrong side thinking that i would have
more space to do my thing. i was wrong. i expended more energy
just trying to keep going. i was rather happy though, because
i had finished half of the distance and the end was in sight.
i had told myself to give it my all for the swim, and let
whatever would happen for the rest of the day happen.

i had a morbid fear of dying because i could have been kicked,
pulled down and drowned by some panicky stranger. it was a
wonder that i was able to settle into the rhythm of the race
and just do what i have always done, relax and pull. so i
ended part 1 with a high, running out of the water. knowing
that i would be an ironman at the end of the day.

i was in pain at the first transition though, lathering
sunblock on my neck abrasion stung. i reminded myself this
would be a long day. i also tried to keep in mind that i
needed patience for the race. that was one value i had
tried consistently to teach myself. if i grew impatient,
i may not have enough powder to finish the race.

but i felt so good. i had started conservatively. i felt
my morning cycles paying off as i clocked higher than my
30km/h average. i thought of the db movies and i remembered
prefontaine. i psyched myself to believe that i could
endure more pain than anyone in the pussy db team. i
blasted out to 40km/h. and i learnt that endorphin doesnt
last. 4 hours is a long time. i should have done more
sprints and sustained sprints. i spent the next 2 rounds
moving, but with the pain of cramps.

i was also challenged by the chasing elijah who was
always 10minutes behind no matter how hard i pushed.
he definitely inspired me not to give up. afterall,
he was on a shitty bike.

morale was down but i was still high because i saw my
body recovering from the cramps really quickly. a 3
second pause was able to generate another 1 minute of
paddling time. it wasnt so bad inside the "head injury"
forest. you know the one where the vengeful spirit of
the aborigine chief is still taking headshots because he
was beheaded for the queen. i mean yeah, 80% of the road
deaths there were caused by head injuries but wouldnt
any accident with a head injury likely cause death?

i digress, but getting out of the forest was a pain.
the wind and the frustration of being so close and yet
so far really tried my patience.

and then i had to fall, crash and hurt some more.

the pit that was my morale couldnt go any lower could
it. its like being at rock bottom and still digging.
what amazed me though was my recovery. i could have
allowed myself a little more sympathy and have a little
pity party but i recovered real quick. you could almost
joke that it was like a booster shot to my determination
to overcome the odds and finish an ironman. i guess it
was easier because of the time that i was knocked down
in geylang. knowing that i wasnt seriously injured as
compared with the situation in which i was hit, i took
it as a message not to be complacent and headed home
to the finish line. caked with the red earth and with
my attire torn by the gravel i was a sight to behold.

charging into the 2nd transition, i changed and headed
out for my run. just a little shy of 9 hours. reminding
myself to be patient i soothed my aggression opting for
a walk run instead of a jog. tactical reasoning was
that the walked allowed for recovery while the jog would
provide enough inertia for me to keep moving at a faster
than average pace. this was technically a gamble because
normally one jogs faster than one can walk so the sacrifice
in speed may not be compensated by the sufficiency of time
for me to finish the race. but if i wasnt finishing either
way, then being conservative would be so so wrong.

couldnt say how many times the excruciating attacks made
it difficult for me to move. looking back it is quite
amusing to think of myself hobbling along but it was then
where i remembered that stopping would be an insult to all
the slower runners that i've coached to push past the pain.
at first, the cramps never really let up and i had to do
everything in my power to keep moving. thinking about
anything other than the pain to keep going. i chose to
think about people.

it was dispiriting, getting passed by people of all shapes
sizes, ages and colours. i was a strapping young lad and i
was passed by this ...(grandma, grandpa, old man, fat lady)
it was humbling and it was appreciated (being humbled and
inspired not so much the losing)

warning bells also sounded in my head when darkness fell.
the chill of the wind cut to the bone. i was in greater
danger of cramps and hypothermia. it was the second that
fueled my fear, disorientation and loss of motor control
are more difficult conditions to deal with.

the express joy of knowing that i was on my last return
was indescribable. the feeling of the surge of energy
filling your body along with the feeling of tiredness
leaving your body and anticipation of finishing was
euphoric. the expectation that one can finally rest was
extremely comforting.

i guess emotions are just like that. we cant put it in
words, but with my descriptions, i hope everyone could
experience what i felt. maybe one day, this insignificant
post will inspire you to take up the challenge.

and be an ironman

posted by green unseen @ 12:04 PM