to do or not to do...
My friend Darcy from Greenwhich emailed me the other day and strongly advised me AGAINST doing Zofingen Powerman in Switzerland. It's a brutal course with very steep hills (mountains). Well, it IS in the Swiss Alps afterall. The bike is nearly 100 miles long sandwiched between 2 runs of 6.2 and 18 miles, respectively.
I trust Darcy. She doesn't beat around the bush, and she's always been honest with me. She is also very detailed in her course descriptions and what she felt like on them. (I've asked her numerous times to tell me about certain races.) She's a very good athlete who's won her age group at Zofingen. Zofingen is arguably the world's most difficult duathlon. It is the Powerman World Championships.
I almost feel, nowadays, as if I need other people's opinions on some things i.e. which races I should or shouldn't do because I have such a difficult time deciding! It is easy for people to dimiss my Achilles injury because of my race results, but they have no idea what I have been through and what I continue to go through. I, myself, have fallen victim to the "race results syndrome." My race results enable me to keep going even though I KNOW that I probably shouldn't. See how I put that "probably" in there?
The little success I have keeps me inspired. Honestly, though, it's merely a smokescreen. I know how much I limp around, how much I dread running some days, how much frustration...
I will have to treat multisport as I do bike racing. People are urging me all the time to bike race full time, and I tell them, "Just because I can doesn't mean that I want to." I don't want to! I have NEVER bike raced full time. Even when I was on pro teams I was still run training and thinking about what duathlon/triathlon/runnin g race I was going to prepare for. That's one of the reasons I didn't have great success at bike racing. I'm not saying I wasn't successful, but let's just say my potential "surface" was merely scratched. I always had my thoughts elsewhere. I raced with anger because I wanted to be doing something else, but I couldn't quite do it yet because I was never injury-free, so I just did what I could. I bike raced. It was fun for me sometimes, but it wasn't fulfilling for me.
I always hoped that someday I would be able to run again. I mean REALLY run. I became patient. I became tolerant. At times I thought maybe it would just all go away. It never did.
We have all seen glimpses of what I can do, and it's been fun but frustrating. How many other people are in the same boat? A countless number. Who knows how many wonderfully talented athletes there are in this world? It's all about blessings and choices.
I've decided that I have put in this position because I need to learn about myself, and I need to teach others. That's what I'm doing, and that's what I shall continue to do---forever. This is part of my journey through life. We all have one.
I don't know what my racing schedule is going to be like. Lighter. I may just race whenever. No goals, strings, or attachments. Definitely more laid back. Actually, since New Zealand I've been REALLY laid back!
06.21.05 (9:14 am) [
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Ironman New Zealand aftermath...
This race was in early March of this year. I took this journal entry from my website at www.andrearatkovic.com because the site is not run by me, and I don't know how long it will be up. There are a few names that I had talked about in previous journals who are mentioned in this one. Traz is the woman who housed me while I was in New Zealand. She's a wonderful massage therapist and friend. She would go to the lake with me in her kayak while I swam in the days before the race. She and her daughter drove the course with me while I rode it. They were just wonderful to be around. Steph is my girlfriend who lives in Australia. She flew over and spent a week with me in New Zealand. Siri is a retired professional triathlete who now coaches other athletes. Bill is one my training partners and a good friend back in Norman, OK. Anne is a retired professional cyclist who now manages a women's cycling team. She also coaches athletes. Kimberly Bruckner is a professional cyclist. Interesting what the first line of my horoscope said for the week in the Brisbane (Australia) News: "There is an uncomfortable experience that comes with finding yourself in front of an audience." I've thought long and hard about how I want to write this journal because I want the readers to "feel" me and to "feel" the race. I'm just going to tell you about my day. The day started out chilly, and it was windy at Traz's house which had me a bit worried because I thought the lake may be rough. I awoke around 3:45 am. and downed some protein/carb. drink to get in precious pre-race calories. I also ate a banana and an energy bar. I lay back down and got up at around 4:45 am. I drank my ritual green tea and then Traz, Steph, and I headed out to the race start arriving around 6 am. I got body marked (FX-19 on my lower leg w/large black marker indicating my sex, category (pro), and my #). After that, I went to my bike in the transition area and put my bottle and gel flask on. I aired up my tires for the last time and made sure everything was the way I had left it the night before. Siri and I chatted for a bit as she offered me words of encouragement, and we took some photos with her, Jenny (the NZ Triathlon Champion), and one of the athletes who Siri coaches. It was dark, and I still couldn't see the lake. I was eager to see what it looked like. After checking my bike, we headed down to the start. It was 6:30---30 minutes to race time. When I finally saw the lake I was happy because it was calm. I got a quick massage from Traz, and then we worked the wetsuit on. Today we literally poured grapeseed oil down my body and into my wetsuit to make sure it went on easy. The water temperature was warmer than the air temperature which was great! The swim started in the water, and the pros got a 5 meter head start. For me that was nothing, and I knew I would get swallowed up. Boy, was that an understatement! The cannon shot, and off we went. The pros took off, and I straggled behind for a few seconds until I was literally swam over by hundreds of and hundreds of swimmers. I thought I was going to drown! I started having a panic attack and had to visualize that I was swimming with Bill, that I was swimming with Steph, and that Traz was in the kayak next to us (which she was, but I didn't know it--she had launched her kayak when the race started). I have never swam with 1500 people before, and I can count the number of times I've swam in the open water on two hands! In my only two half-Ironmans the pros got a 10 minute head start, and the rest of the competitors went off in waves, so there was never a huge mass of people at any one time. I couldn't find any place to swim! The whole swim, for me, was a matter of survival. Mind you, people are downright MEAN in the swim which I find to be incredibly dangerous. For instance, if people feel your hands on their feet they kick super hard as to kick you in the face or to kick you away from them. Where the &$^*&(* am I suppose to go!!? I just think that's a shame, and I don't see a reason for it. Everyone is there for the same reason. Why make it more difficult and dangerous? I didn't kick at all. You don't need to when you're in a wetsuit, and every person BUT ONE was wearing one. You just float along the top of the water, and kicking is only done slightly to maintain balance. People who kick hard only do so to be viscious. I couldn't see the course markers because my goggles were fogged up, so I went along with the pack hoping they were all going in the right direction! I had to stop and tread water several times to clear my goggles and to catch my breath I'd just been kicked in the face, jabbed in the ribs, or whatever! I also had to pump some water into my wetsuit because I was getting hot. Plus, I wanted to see the course markers for myself because I'd read about races where people went the wrong way. I had to stop sometimes just to maintain my composure. I just wanted to stop and fight people! LOL!! I swam off course several times just find some open water, but then the kayak officials kept "shooing" me back in to the masses. It was rough with all of the people and boats, and as a result I swallowed gulps of water several times. I thought for sure I was going to swim the slowest time in the history of the women's pro field, but I ended up swimming a respectable 1:03 which I found to be stellar given the fact that I stopped so much and really couldn't "swim" at any time. There was a 400 meter run from the swim to bike transition, and I tried to run fast, but there were so many people in front of me that it was hard to do. I was saying, "Excuse me, pardon me" as I attempted to make my way thru. There was a green thin carpet laid out the distance of the run, but I had to run on the stoney pavement to pass people. Then there were these steep set of stairs which I seemingly flew up. I yelled out my number, and the volunteers quickly located my bag. This was the bag that I dropped off the night before which contained whatever I needed for the bike leg. In it was my number on an elastic belt, some electrolyte capsules, and some lip balm. Gotta protect my lips! I ran into the changing tent, but it was the men's, so they quickly rushed me out of it, and I had to run next door into the women's tent. The volunteers ladies in there quickly ripped off my wetsuit (amazing how fast it came off with my body slathered in oil). They emptied my bag, handed me the contents, and off I went! I left the tent, busted my ass on the wet grass (nearly did the splits), got up, and went to my bike. Therewas only one other bike in the women's pro area besides mine, so I wasn't last in the swim. Yeeeehaw! I put on my sunglasses, grabbed my socks, sat down and put them on, stood up, grabbed my shoes from my handlebars, sat down and put THEM on, got up, put my helmet and full-fingered gloves on, chatted with the crowd, and ran to the mounting line where I got on my bike and took off! That took a few minutes, I guess. I hate rushing... Usually my legs feel fresh when I get on the bike, and I just go! Today, though, my legs felt dead, and they had felt like that for a couple of days. I tried not to think about it and hoped the feeling would just go away as it sometimes does, but it just never did. My bike was awful. I NEVER felt comfortable, and I NEVER felt powerful. I could never get into a rhythm. It was very cold and foggy, and I couldn't eat for a long time as I threw everything up, and my lips and arms were frozen, so it was difficult to take anything in. This would end up hurting me dearly, but there was nothing I could do about it. I lost focus and began daydreaming. I just rode along. It was very windy from every direction, and the road was extremely rough. I felt EVERYTHING. I was so utterly and totally frustrated with my performance. This was my specialty, and I was blowing it. I kept thinking about how my mph average was so much faster just a week earlier on part of this same exact course and how I was averaging much faster rides back home on harder courses going nearly the same distance. I kept telling myself that I needed to eat, but I couldn't. I tried to drink, but I could hardly squeeze the bottle, and my mouth just wasn't working. I knew I was digging myself into a terrible hole that I wouldn't be able to get out of. I kept hoping I'd be able to pull something out of my bag of tricks like I've done in the past... About halfway through the bike, the sun finally appeared, and it warmed up. I began taking in much needed food and drink. My legs ached with every pedal stroke. Every hill seemed like a mountain. I pictured Anne, my old TDS teammate, riding next to me. We'd had some great rides together. I thought about previous bike races where I had dug deep and found something within myself to launch an attack. I thought about my training partners Bill and Steven and the stellar rides we'd had back home. I thought about my friends back in Oklahoma and how hopeful they all were and how all week they'd been sending me emails filled with encouraging and heartfelt words. I thought how much I loved them. I thought about how many supporters I had here. Traz had told all of New Zealand, it seemed, that I was here and demanded that they come out to cheer me on. I thought about Steph and how she'd come here to see me race. I thought about Kimberly Baldwin (Bruckner) and how she said in one interview after her Olympic Trials time trial disappointment that sometimes you just have bad days. I thought about how few times I have felt this bad on a bike. I passed a bunch of people, but later many would pass me back. Normally this would send me into a frenzy because I HATE getting passed, but today I could respond neither mentally nor physically. I saw the pro women and the extraordinary lead they had on me because I had timed it based on the point where we passed each other going opposite ways. I kept telling myself that I would somehow pull it off in the end... With 10K to go I had to stop and pee in the Port-O-Potty. I can't pee on the bike, and the pain was unbearable in my lower back. "What's another couple of minutes," I thought. That was the BEST part of my day sitting in that damned thing! LOL! I just sat back and relaxed. I didn't want to come out. It was the first time I realizesd that I was now here simply to finish. To my amazement I ended up with the 2nd fastest bike split out of all the pro women. I entered the bike transition to loud cheers from the crowd. Again, the volunteers quickly handed me my run bag which contained the racing flats (light running shoes) that I had kissed the night before. In addition to that, I had a fresh pair of thinner socks which I put on as the volunteers slathered me up with sunblock. Then I headed out to the run course. My legs and ass were dead, but somehow I managed to get a good stride going. I thought that MAYBE I would be able to get something started here. I also thought, "26 miles---how the heck am I going to run 26 miles?" I ran a 2:34:20 marathon back in the day, but that seemed so long ago now, and it just didn't matter anymore...
My biggest worry leading up to this race was the fact that my Achilles wouldn’t be able to handle the distance and that my legs wouldn’t be able to handle the pounding. I hadn’t been able to run properly for about 5 weeks, and I never was able to put in the amount of miles that my legs could get used to the constant pounding. I could only train according to what my Achilles would allow me to do. I almost pulled out of this race because of my lack of run training. I knew that I couldn’t hide an injury in a race of this distance and caliber. But, I chose to come here because I needed it mentally. I had abandoned thoughts of doing Ironman Florida late last year after training for it, and at the beginning of last year I had to pull out of the Miami Marathon because of leg cramps after I took a pee stop. Then the TDS Cycling Team Manager had cancelled a bunch of our scheduled bike races over the summer after telling me to specifically train for them. I was just tired for them. I was just tired of pulling out of things, so on to New Zealand I went.
I was able to run for about half the distance today. After that I was reduced to a walk. It was the hardest thing for me to do—walk. Tears started streaming down my face. Then I got mad that I was crying, so I stopped. I thought I’d just walk for a bit and then try to resume running. I tried but my legs just weren’t having any of it today. They shut down. What happened to mind over matter? I guess that doesn’t always work because your body has a keen sense of knowing when to protect itself, and mine was doing that. It didn’t want me to damage it any further. I couldn’t make my mind move my legs to run. They would only walk.
My legs had failed me, and I was sorely disappointed in them. I could have dropped out of the race but instead I chose to punish them by walking the entire last half of the marathon. Now anyone who knows me CLEARLY knows I HATE to walk. I’d MUCH rather run than walk. I conceded that it would be a long day for me.
The race required that all athletes put reflective tape on their running gear. I refused to stick them on anything. Earlier in the week I had joked with Traz after she bought some that I wouldn’t be needing any of that because I hadn’t planned on racing after dark. Well I would come to regret saying that…
Traz and Steph were video taping me and taking pictures. When they saw me walking they were shocked as I’m sure the rest of the crowd was. I’d been in the paper, and I was featured in the race magazine. Siri had talked me up on the announcers stand. The race director said that she had been trying to e-mail me back in Oklahoma so that they could do a big write up and get some interviews. Siri interviewed me the day before the race. People expected differently from me. I’m a pro and with that distinction comes a responsibility to perform exceptionally. I’m not SUPPOSED to walk!! Part of me felt that I had to stay in this race because it was my first one, and I needed to finish it. I needed to make mental notes. I’d realize how ill-prepared I was for so many things. I just swam longer than I’d ever swam before, I’d just rode longer than I’d ever ridden before, and I was about to walk farther than I’d ever walked before. Part of me felt that I needed to stay in it so that I could experience what every other competitor was experiencing. How dare I take the easy way out and drop out? I was going to suffer through this whole episode. My entire day was a disaster (except for the swim time and the Port-O-Potty).
The aid stations supplied bananas, cookies, potato chips, gels, energy drinks and bars and water. They were about 2km. Apart and came quickly when you’re running; HOWEVER when you’re when you’re walking they seemed like FOREVER to get to! I quickly learned to scoop up as much as I could carry. I ate and drank whatever I could hoping that I’d be able to start running again. I ran for about 50 meters twice. Over time I developed 3 blisters and had to stop at a medical tent to get those tended to where I once again and sunblock applied to my tender lobster red skin. They wrapped my toes up which made my shoe fit tighter, but whatever—I was going to deal with it. As long as I could keep walking…
The pain in my legs was excruciating, and my Achilles was burning. I stopped every once in awhile to stretch if you want to call it that. I gingerly bent over to put my hands on my knees. That was as far as I could go. My ass hurt. My hamstrings were like guitar strings. My quads felt like they’d had a hammer taken to them. My stomach and ribs felt like I’d been in a boxing match with Tonya Harding. My lower back was screaming. I sometimes wished a car would run me over and put me out of my misery. Traz walked with me. Steph walked with me. I walked alone deep in my thoughts. I encouraged myself to take EVERYTHING in. I wanted to remember this in detail. I watched with a blank stare as more competitors went by and came towards me.
The run course took part along a main road/highway, and it was out and back twice, so you could always see people.
Sometimes tears would run down my face as I saw big people, short people, little people, old people, young people, middle-aged people, keep trudging along. They amazed me. They had all raced to their own personal limits, and here they were beating me. At times this hacked me off as I was feeling sorry for myself, but most of the time I felt good for them. I was proud of them. I encouraged them. They encouraged me. These are the same people that tried to drown me, but now they were helping me. I found humor in this.
Siri was out on the course on a mountain bike. She rode next to me for a bit offering, as usual, her encouraging words. I told her this had never happened before. She said, “Why do you think I’ve never done an Ironman?” I told her I never wanted to do another one, and she said, “So don’t.” Then I told her I didn’t want my Ironman “career” to end like this. We chatted for a bit and then she rode off saying she’d find me again later. I started contemplating the Ironman and wondered if my Achilles would ever be able to handle the mileage needed to do well. I thought, “I need to think about some things.”
At one point I compared myself to those people who make the trek in Jerusalem or their own Jesus treks except that I wasn’t dragging a cross; though, I felt like I was. Other times I thought about Julie Moss and Paula Newby-Fraser, both of whom have crawled across the line in the Hawaii Ironman. I thought about the other pros who have been reduced to a walk there. I saw men who were walking here. Steph reminded me of that Swiss gal who finished the 1984 marathon in a twisted heap of human flesh.
I stopped to pee in my beloved Port-O-Potty twice on the run. As the day wore on I found it more difficult to even keep walking. I had to pull myself up off the toilet seat, and every curb became a huge hill. By now all the pro women had passed me. Early on I thought if I kept walking that maybe I could hold them off. Delirious thinking, but I was just trying to stay positive. Two of them (Miranda and the 3rd place girl) cheered me on as they went by. I thought that was sweet and really appreciated it. I cheered them on as well. There were people walking that passed me like I was standing still. Some invited me to walk with them, but I simply couldn’t keep up. It was then that I realized just how slow my walk had become. I was beginning to wonder if these legs were going to be able to make it after all. I would make them. No matter what, I would MAKE them.
Spectators along the way constantly encouraged me. I heard my name being called out hundreds of times. That happens when you’re out on the course all day! Some people cheered, winced, and then cheered again at the sight of me. I saw some people gasp, putting both hands up to their mouths. Some people held out their hands for me to touch. Some offered their chairs. One offered me a backrub!
Spectators and race volunteers yelled for me to keep going, some with concerned looks on their faces. Many said things like, “I could never do what you’re doing”, “You’re an Ironman”, “Good on ya, mate”, “You’re awesome”, “God loves ya”, “Just put one foot in front of the other”, “Keep moving”, “You make us proud”, “There’s no shame in walking”, “Woman power”, “You’re amazing”, “You’re a rockstar”, “Walk as slow as you need to”, and the best one was—no matter where I was on the course—“You’re almost finished!” Lots of people, including race participants asked me if I was alright. They smiled, they cheered, they wept.
The sun was setting, and I started shivering. What a sight I must have been—skin and bones barely moving, sunburned, and freezing. The race marshals became concerned, and I could hear them talking about me on the radio. I had about 1 mile to go. Steph had been counting down the kilometers with me for 10 km. She was encouraging the crowd to cheer for me which they had been doing on their own now for hours. At one point near the end I just burst out crying. The pain in my legs was overwhelming as was the whole day. I was sad that the crowd was having to cheer me on in this way. I consider myself an entertainer, as I’ve stated times before in journals, as much as I do an athlete, and this wasn’t the way I wanted to entertain! I was disappointed that I couldn’t give them a good race. I was upset that I couldn’t whip around on my bike with lightning speed and that I couldn’t run like a gazelle as I had so many times before.
One of the race marshals brought me a plastic hoody which he helped put on. I could see the finish line, but it wasn’t a glorious sight really. It was just something else I was going to walk across, and then I would have to walk to the car. As I entered the grassy area 13 hours after I began the day, people hollered and cheered; it was deafening. I was sad that I couldn’t bask in it, but it was still nice. Steph and Traz walked down the finish stretch with me. Traz tearfully videotaped the final steps of my personal victory. It was a victory that everyone who saw part of the race shared.
Steph was flapping her arms round to rouse the crowd, and they responded by cheering louder. I acknowledged their encouragement with a faint smile. I was really focused on not tripping! After I crossed the line I was quickly walked to the medic tent where I was weighed. They wanted to keep me for observation, but I just wanted to go home and get a massage. I was beside myself with the pain in my legs. Traz, Steph, and I walked to the car and went home. I got that massage and had some pizza. I was wondering how on earth I would even be able to sleep with this much pain. I remembered that I had some liquid Alka Seltzer cold capsules with acetaminophen. Good enough.
I could still hear this guy on a megaphone cheering on the rest of the athletes as I drifted off to sleep. They had until midnight to finish. I wanted to go down to cheer them on, but I had given them all the energy I could. I hoped that this was enough and that they would all reach their goals.
The race already seemed long ago to me, and I was concentrating on healing. I have a bike stage race that I’m doing at the end of this month, and then I have a duathlon in early April. After that I’ll think about “things”…
06.05.05 (7:42 pm) [
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