Ironman Cozumel Trilogy - Part 2: The Bike

Athlete's Secret:  This is my favorite outfit of all time.  (I am hoping that Niva agrees to trade me these shorts for something ... perhaps after reading the blog)

The bike

Whoooo … I did the swim.  Don’t look too excited or people will think you are a loser.  Forget it.  “Whooooooo”  I let out my little scream despite being loserish.  I made my way inside the change tent and sat down in a chair while drying of my legs.  I pulled on my clothes, the toughest being the compression socks.  We all know, I have calves.  Putting on compression socks  after the swim was like stuffing wet marshmallow into a straw.  Slowly and steadily however, I did it.  I stood up to leave the tent and caked a bunch of sunscreen on my shoulders.  I exited as happily as I entered, and there was Carol, Rebel in hand.  I did a little happy kick to each side, but the risk of bailing entered my mind and I stopped the nonsense. 

I got to my bike and checked my tires.  There were firm and ready to make love to the pavement.  Making sure my helmet was secure I dismounted my bike and made my way for the bike mount.  There were lots of people mounting with me.  I started out really slow and totally paranoid of the possibility of a drafting call.  When I passed, it was fast, and when I was passed, I lagged back the 7 meters.  I thought I should eat something, and I do love my peanut butter recovery bars, so I worked at getting one out.  I was eating on the :45, so I made a mental note, next bar at something:15.  The bike course was three loops around the southern tip of the island, with the Ocean side being very windy.  

Thursday we had done a practice loop and I was feeling pretty confident.  The first loop was great, but the wind was a lot stronger than our practice run.  It gusted from the southern tip all the way up the coast.  None-the-less, it was beautiful.  The ride was your typical cat and mouse.  I would be passed, I would pass, I would be passed, I would pass, repeat for 6 hours 45 minutes.  On the far windy side I heard, “Diaaaaaane.”  A flash of green entered my peripheral vision, and there was Niva, smiling her way up the road.  She was so excited about the swim and we chatted about how great it felt.  Her little green compression legs were pumping at an output greater than mine, so off she went in front. 

First lap was perfect.  As I started the second, I heard, "Diane."  Out of the corner of my eye, there was my sister holdingup a bright pink and white sign cheering me on.  I smiled, again!

Athletes Secret: The above picture shows what the picture looks like before you buy it.  I will buy it.  Maybe. 

The week before the race, my sisters and I sent out a special request for some “words of inspiration.”  I thought that there would be times that I really needed something to lift me up when the fire in my gut wasn’t churning.  On the second lap of the bike I decided to get a card out.  Carol had printed everyones words on business cards that she had stamped with blue morpho butterflies.  Perfect.  

Athlete's Secret:  There is no creature on earth I find more beautiful than Blue Morpho Butterflies

My first card was from Boston Marathoner and soul-sister Meghan McEwen.

“Dig deep Diane.  You can throw in the towel or use it to wipe the sweat off your face.  You know what to do.”

I continued on that second lap the wind picking up even more on the far side.  Each time I passed a water station I was taking more Gatorade than water.  I would fill my aero bottle with a half-half combo so that I was getting electrolytes along with some refreshing water.  I had forgotten my salt tabs with my running gear, so I didn’t have any with me. I did worry about becoming hypotonic, because those of you who know me, know, I sweat! 

During the second lap, the sky darkened and it looked like it had been raining in some patches.  It was along the southern windy stretch that something hit a race-nerve.  I was slicing through the wind and I passed an Argentinian (I know because I read his bib).  He got right on my wheel and started drafting off me.  Come on!  Seriously?  A: NO DRAFTING IN IRONMAN   B:  NO DRAFTING IN IRONMAN.

My race-courage has grown progressively over the years and I am not afraid to tell people to get off my wheel if it’s illegal.  I gave him the benefit of the doubt, and let him stay for a bit thinking, maybe a race official will come and peg him.  It’s windy.  No such luck.  I made it very obvious that I knew and disapproved of his being there because I kept looking back and nodding my head.  Still, he stuck to me like glue. 

Finally I said, “pass me.”  He must have thought I couldn’t keep the pace because as he inched by me he smiled and thanked me for the help.  Thanks for the help? I didn’t even smile.  Cheating pisses me off.  His pace was significantly slower than mine and holding back the 7 meters was brutal. There was only one thing to do, pass him again.  In Ironman you have 20 seconds to pass.  I inched my way forward and as I did, the wind picked up making it difficult to pass within the 20 seconds.  Imagine if I got a drafting call.  How ironic would that be? Thoughts become things right?  A second later, the race official motorcycle passes me giving me a hand sign that I am unfamiliar with.  Is she telling me to finish the pass?  Is she telling me to enter the penalty box that will be on the left in about 2km.  Did I just get a penalty.  My heart rate increased and as I made the pass, I was sure to exchange words, “If I get a drafting call, I am going to be pissed!”  I yelled at him.  Off I went. 

As I approached the penalty tent, I saw the motorcycle stopped on the side of the road; the officials were talking.  Is she saying, “813 was drafting off _ _ _ _ (from Argentina)?  Stay calm … if you get a foul just look at it as an imposed 10 minutes of relaxation.  Do a few sun salutations and cheer people on from the tent …. LOUDLY! 

I decided not to look at the officials because I thought I could change the inevitable if I didn’t look.  It’s that “out of sight, out of mind” philosophy that had got me through many scary situations (and broken many  long-distance relationships).   I was passing them.  They weren’t calling my name.  I didn’t get the foul.  I didn't get the foul.  For once, I got a race-break!  Yes!  She must have been just giving me the hand signal for, “finish your pass.” 

With that I set off with a lighter load.  The motorcycle passed me again and in fact, there was another guy ahead drafting (full-fledged drafting) off the rider in front of him.  The motorcycle held back for about 15 seconds to see what he was up to. He either became conscientious of his drafting (it’s easy to become distracted when riding 180km) or heard the motor, because he backed off.  As I passed him, I shared, “you are lucky!”  As the words exited my body I felt a pop in my abdomen.

What was that?  It hurts to breathe in.  Oh, it really hurts.  I can’t take a full breath.  Repeat thoughts for 15 minutes.  Is it my liver?  Have I ODed on Gatorade?  It feels like gas but it’s too high up.  How much Gatorade can the body process.  What does liver failure feel like?  Are my kidneys failing.  Ouch.  Repeat thought pattern for 20 more minutes on windy side of island and decrease speed so that everyone you passed (including the Argentine) pass you.  The rapid succession of cards include:

“Nothing can be done without hope and confidence.”  ~ Helen Keller       Via Sharon (sister)

I am confident this will pass.  I am confident this will pass.   Will I be able to even run with this pain?

“Once can never consent to creep when one feels an impulse to soar” ~ Helen Keller    Via Sharon (sister)

I like that.  I like it a lot.  I imagine a cat creeping slowly, a cat that think see’s an eagle and then thinks it’s an eagle.  This cat starts to become like an eagle … anything to ease the pain.

“The talent of success is nothing more that doing what you can do well, and doing well whatever you do, without a thought of fame!”       From Danah (soul-sister)

I like this too.  Do I want fame?  No.  This reminds me of Good to Great (lots of connections with that book).  Level 5 leaders don’t seek fame or recognition.  It’s one of the traits that make them “level 5.”  No fame, no fame.  I am here because I want to be here.  I am sooooo very lucky to have everyone supporting me.  Wow.  This experience is incredible.  Just BE with the pain. 

Then I remembered.  EYE OF THE TIGER.  EYE OF THE TIGER.  My dad sent me a really cute letter telling me to remember Rocky and EYE OF THE TIGER when I was feeling down and out.  It came to me.  Da ... da, da, da ... rising up ... You know the one.  Ironically, I had asked Niva on the training ride, "do you think of any music when you are riding?"  I had been putting together a virtual play list that only consisted of Christmas carols and Sunday School hymns up until now.  Her reply, "just one, Di, Eye of the Tiger."  

ENGLISH

SPANISH (Thanks Sharon)

“Life is not about how fast you run, how high you climb, but how well you bounce.”   

Via Kirsten (soul-sister)

I picture Kirsten’s laugh.  I hear it.  I see her smile.  It’s huge and it makes me smile.  I remember the bouncy ball video and thing about the colorful balls bouncing down the streets of San Francisco.  I will bounce back. I will bounce back.

“The most effective way to do it is to DO IT.  ~ Amelia Earhart    Via Carol (sister)

I believe that, I really do.  I am doing it.  I am doing it now.  Do I have to go to the bathroom?  Yes.  So I should do it. 

I had already stopped twice at the port-o-lets set up at the hydration stations.  They were disgusting but I really didn’t care.  I had no problem forfeiting a few minutes of my time for relief.  I stopped at aid station (the last one on the windy side) and waited until the person inside finished.  I think I was doing a little “I have to pee” dance.  In fact, I am sure I was.  Now dear reader, I would normally normally spare you the details, but I just can’t.  While in the bathroom, the most miraculous thing happened.  I farted.  I farted for what seemed like 10 straight seconds.  My brothers would have been very proud.  And poof (literally) my stomach pains were gone.  With relief, and a smile on my face (the kind of smile you can only get after such a fart), I set sail. 

As I made my way into town, I heard a familiar Brazilian voice, “Diannnnne from Canada.”  Karina had caught up and flew past me with legs that were unstoppable.   My friends were on the course with me; each of us having our own race, but each of us united at the same time.  I can’t describe those feelings but I will try.  A mix of pride, satisfaction, curiosity and wonder, inspiration … but mostly pride.  Pride in myself, and pride in others.

As I finished up the bike course, the rain had set in, and what started as a drizzle, was a full fledged downpour by the time I hit town.  I kind of liked it to be honest.  Feeling like I was with the elements.  I was with the weather.  Unstoppable.

I saw the dismount line, got off my bike, and surprisingly, my legs were fine.  In fact, they were better than fine.  They wanted to run.  Good thing my agenda had been penciled in: Run 42.2km.

Editors notes:

loserish:  (adj)  kind of like a loser

Part III: The Run coming December 8 (give or take a day)