In search of a positive attitude

A year-ish ago, I was gearing up for my first triathlon and a 10 mile race. I was excited but nervous, looking at everything with fresh eyes and eager anticipation. Everything last summer was a positive experience of PRs and record distances. A 10 miler, 2 sprint triathlons, 1 olympic, and 1 half marathon. With each race, I noticed improvements in myself and my self-confidence.

Finishing strong at last year's olympic triathlon

Fast forward to January of this year: A few long breaks from working out (2 weeks in Japan of only light exercising, break at Christmas time) followed by Achilles' tendinitis, frustration on the computrainer, and stressful swim stroke work. Instead of those feelings of almost invincibility I had last spring and summer, I now feel like I am at a standstill, or worse yet, slowing down. I tried to not let it bother me too much, rejoicing in small accomplishments, like running pain-free, or running my longest distance since my injury, but the small victories do not seem to be outweighing my overall aura of disappointment in myself. It is building up and I feel like a ball of negative energy that I just can't escape from.

This past weekend, I attended the spring training camp in Kentucky- a dedicated training weekend in a VERY remote and VERY flooded location. Oh, and it was also hilly. We didn't get to open water swim due to the brown sewage filled water, but we did plenty of biking and running.

Friends, ready to ride

I am still not 100% sure of my opinion on this experience. It was my first time out on my clip pedals, and first time tackling hills both biking and running in quite some time. I tried to remain positive at first, but my fears got the better of me. My biggest fear was being dropped and having to do a long bike ride in the middle of nowhere on my own. It happened.

Now I know I am not a great biker. I have been struggling with that all winter in the computrainer room, disgruntled about the low wattages I was barely able to muster while everyone around me sustained significantly higher values. I expressed my concerns of being miles behind the group in KY and getting lost to the coach, who said, don't worry about it, we'll stay together. Well, I assume she had good intentions, but a friend and I got dropped before we even began the course. She was having bike troubles (couldn't shift front rings, only one working brake), and we stuck together for the first 27 miles of the journey. While we were together, I didn't really care so much that the group was far far away, because we had each other, at least, to motivate and push through the hilly terrain, laugh about the little yappy doggies that tried to chase us, and navigate the directions given to us on a sheet of photocopied paper. When we got to the aid station, however, my friend said she had had enough of her bike, and I was left on my own. I had a choice to make: stay at the aid station and get a ride back to home base, or keep going, finish my 56 mile loop, but do it alone. I really wasn't ready to stop riding, and I was determined to work as hard as I could at this training camp- otherwise, why did I trek all the way to KY? After a minor meltdown- due to feelings of abandonment and high emotions from the stressful first half of the ride combined with the fears of going it alone- I took off...

The second half of the ride started out ok, and I got into a happy biking groove. But, the last 10 miles were quite possibly the hilliest terrain that I had ever attempted. I had to will myself up some of the hills, only keeping motivated by thinking about everyone else that had done these hills before me. I watched the miles click up on my odometer, knowing that I was getting closer and closer to the end. I distinctly remember one of the last hills. It was so steep, and my legs were so tired, that I almost walked, and most definitely cried. Do not quit, I thought to myself. I started to count strokes- it can't be more than ... 50? I looked at the pitifully slow odometer reading of 5.7 mph, and tried to ignore it, being thankful I was able to keep moving. I finally made it up the hill, and sailed down. What a relief!

Eventually I was nearing the end, and the coach and a friend came by in a car to see how I was doing. I lost it when I saw them- I was feeling anger and resentment for having to go this alone while everyone else was done. Thankfully, they realized that if they stopped me with only 2 miles left to go to relieve me, it would be even worse than enduring the remainder of the bike course. I would have been completely unsatisfied with myself had I not been able to complete it. So, they let me finish, and collected me and my bike at the end. I was so glad to see the finish line! 56 miles- done! That's the distance in the HIM. Now, I know I can do it-I just have to work on getting it done faster!

Now, one would think that most normal people would be satisfied with this new distance achievement. I was, I really was. But, inside of me, the burning feeling of sadness, abandonment, and inadequacy- and being left behind because I wasn't good enough- overwhelmed my thoughts. I took a walk, cried, and wished that I could get a hold of myself. I should be so proud of myself- when I did my hilly olympic tri last year, I barely made the 25 miles, and today I had gone 56! Why wasn't that enough for me. Everyone was saying what a great job I did, and what determination it took for me to do it alone. For some reason, these positive comments, coming from people who finished at least a half hour prior to me, just went in one ear and out the other. My friends tried to make me feel better too, but I was just wallowing in self-pity, and wouldn't let myself get past my feelings of inadequacy. I am sure I was an extremely unpleasant person to be around this weekend, and I don't know how they are still friends with me...

The next day, I tried harder to look on the bright side and stop worrying about how I compared to the masses. We had a 20 mile bike ride, followed by a 10 mile run on the schedule. I figured, if I could do 56 miles Saturday, I could for sure handle 20. I started off alone again, as everyone zoomed off before I even got my shoes clipped into the pedals. At the first hill, I thought to myself, good grief, these hills just keep on coming. Another woman started to ride with me, and we took turns being the leader. I would zoom past her on the hills (not sure how that is possible given my weak, wussy quads) but she would pass me speedily on the downhill, pedaling while in her aerobars, while I was gripping my handlebars for dear life, coasting out of fear of shifting. At the turnaround point, we stopped for a water break before heading back. She gave me a pep talk, which I desperately needed. I started to feel better about myself and more confident about my riding, and we finished the 10 miles back strong.

biking in the Kentucky hills

Now, time for the run. 10 miles. Same course we just biked on, full of hills, including a super long incline on the way out. I started off with my biking buddy, but she had an injured calf, and walked up an early hill, so we parted ways. This run was a struggle: I had tired legs from 75 miles of biking, was carrying all sorts of stuff in my bike jersey, was sweating from the humid weather, and was terrified of the tons of hills, since I hadn't done any hill preparation since well before my Achilles' tendinitis diagnosis. But, I plowed through, slowly, just making sure I never stopped to walk until the aid station. At the aid station, my broken bike friend ran with me almost 2 miles. I needed that more than anything, and I am so thankful she was there with me. I felt like I was in a marathon, hitting a wall at mile 22, and she came in to rescue me and give me the motivation to keep going. After she departed, I picked up another girl who wanted to run the last 4 miles with me. Thankfully the 2nd half was mostly downhill, so it felt a bit better. This run was hard. Very hard. Finally, I finished, running only 2 min slower than my last 10 miler on the flat ground.

Again, I should be happy with this performance, and I am. Running 10 miles in hills after a 20 mile hilly ride is an accomplishment for me for sure. And, technically, I'm still recovering. Though since the pain is (thankfully) gone, I at times have trouble remembering that. I had to watch my usual running buddies blow past me at mile 7, pushing their pace limits, when I was well behind, chugging along at mile 3. I am so proud of all of my friends and how far their running skills have come in the last few months. I just am having SO much trouble being left out. I know that if I didn't have this injury and recovery holding me back, I'd have been right there with them. But instead, I am watching from the outside, wondering if/when I will catch up to them.

The half marathon is this coming weekend. I have no idea how it is going to go. It's flat, thankfully. But, I haven't run more than 10 miles since October. That's a long time. I guess I will just have to see how it goes. I am going to try really hard to take whatever happens in stride, and recognize that my injury was a setback, and I can only go up from here. I am hoping that this race will be a kick off for me - the start of getting back into training injury free. I know I am going to be so proud of my friends who are all going to crush their goals because they have worked so hard and improved so much in the last few months. I am hoping for a positive attitude for myself-  to have for the race on Saturday, and to keep with me in the remainder of the long road ahead in the racing season and the training towards the HIM.