I knew I shouldn't have worn that wetsuit. It has always been tight on me, even when I first bought it to brave the Black Warrior River in Tuscaloosa 2 years ago for Nationals. My body is significantly different enough (i.e, more swole) now such that it fits so poorly that my lungs can't really function.
After the race officials corralled a runaway buoy, we charged out into the water on a delayed start. I actually had a decent start, and found myself where I wanted to be in the pack of girls, (thank goodness they split the genders this year) for the most part. However, as my effort level increased to race level, my lungs were having difficulty expanding under the pressure of the too-tight neoprene. As I began to hyperventilate, I did little analysis of my situation before tarzan swimming over to a kayaker with the goal of getting the suit off to finish the swim (I probably only swam 200 m or so). The top half slipped off easily, but getting it off of my ankles was a challenge. I tried everything, it seemed. The kayaker even offered to try to pull it off, but to no avail. After a long and somewhat exhausting struggle, I found that I needed both hands to pull it off. I let go of the kayak and held my breath twice, once for each leg, and then it was off. I thanked the kayaker, left my wetsuit with her, and swam off in the direction of the turn buoy. I had difficulty cutting back on course, but after making the turn I felt strong and exactly how I wanted to feel the entire race.
I exited the water quite relieved, as my toes were going numb. I'm not sure how much time had been wasted on the kayak and in aimless swimming, but I knew it was a lot when I ran into an almost empty transition. My spirits were dampened a bit, but I tried my best to put down a decent bike split without killing it too much. I decided at some point in the opening miles that I would save myself for a decent run, since it's really all I have at the moment, fitness-wise. The bike was how I remember: long, hilly, and like a double-edged sword. I love the course, and it's really beautiful. But my legs disagreed with me. I could feel the marathon training fatigue, and my cadence slugged along as if in slow motion at times. I coasted into transition with my hopes set on a strong run split.
As I glanced down at mile one, my watch ticked to 6:45. Oomph. Maybe a little too fast after tackling the Clermont hills. After a rough next couple of miles (Ab cramps...the usual), I finally settled into a nice rhythm and felt like I was floating through the last two. I ran through the finishing shoot to some good cheers from my teammates, stopping my watch as if I had just finished an interval on the track. The race turned into a workout of sorts.
Races like these can be heartbreaking and downright disappointing. I hadn't expected much from the race in the first place, but it's always frustrating when things go wrong that are out of your control. Races rarely are completely smooth, and there's always an element of difficulty when you try to perform well at three sports in succession. I've always accepted that as a fact, but it never hurts less when something goes horribly wrong.
One thing that I have taken away from this race is that although I was by no means okay with how everything happened this morning, I was able to stave off the downward spiraling thoughts until after the race. I pulled off my wetsuit, pulled up my big girl panties, and finished. My mentality was so different than usual; it became a workout in which I paid for. It was admittedly hard to find the desire to put down good splits knowing that I was at least 10 minutes away from all of the competitors that I usually race against. I prepared myself the whole race to see that number on the clock, and my heart sank as it came into view anyway.
At least this race is a step up from 2 weeks ago, when I didn't even start. Maybe next time I can get past the swim. They don't call it multisport for nothing.
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