Every time we set a goal or strive for something, we risk
failure. So why do we do it? Failure is one of the worst feelings in the world.
Why would we ever inflict that on ourselves if we can avoid it? Earlier this
month, in the span of a mere eight days, I experienced both my worst and best
moments as an athlete. Maybe it was fate that they should be so close together
to remind me of why it’s worth the risk.
2015 has been the year of goals for me. In January, I set a
number of fitness goals that I hoped to reach by the end of the year. One of
these goals was to run a 1:45 half marathon. So all year I’d been preparing and
training (more on that prep in my next post), and before I knew it, there I
stood at the starting line for my first attempt.
It was an evening race – the first I’d ever done. I figured
it would be fine since pretty much all of my training runs are in the evening.
But I usually run around 8 pm when the temperature is cooling off. It was only
5:30 and about 85 degrees with ridiculous humidity and the sun in full force.
Mistake #1: signing up for an evening race in the summer.
Since it was in the evening, I focused a lot on what and how
much I ate that day. But my attention to food made me neglect to focus on the
most important thing: drinking enough water. That was mistake #2. Plus, the
race was 2 hours away and I didn’t drink nearly enough during the car ride for
fear of needing to stop for a bathroom too many times, or having to go during
the race. In hindsight, very stupid things to worry about.
To run a 1:45 half I would need to keep about an 8:00/mile
pace. So I started in the corral right by the 8:00 pacer. I’ll just run with him the whole time. Simple. The first two miles
flew by, and I mean that literally, because we clocked about 7:50 miles. That
was probably mistake #3 (you’re supposed to slow your pace by a few seconds for
every degree over 50°). But besides feeling pretty thirsty and a little hot, I felt
good those first 2 miles. The course made a few small loops, out and back
toward the starting area, so each time we came back I would see Jin (who was
there supporting me) and smile and wave. The first water stop came after that.
Since I was so thirsty I planned on getting both a Gatorade and a water. I got
the Gatorade but the water stop was so small, I missed the water cups. The pace
group was running so fast and I didn’t want to fall behind, so I didn’t go back
for water. Mistake #4.
About half way into mile 3, I began slowing down. What’s going on? I started panicking, it’s only mile 3! I’m supposed to keep this pace for 13 miles! I
watched as the pace group ran ahead and out of sight. I remember noticing how
insanely hot I felt. Boiling hot, deep in my core. I needed something to drink
badly. Then I started to feel light-headed and slightly nauseous. I had to stop
and walk. A runner passing by me asked “Are you okay?” I guess it would raise a
red flag that someone is walking not even a quarter of the way through a race.
That’s when it really hit me that I was in trouble. I jogged the next half-mile,
thirsty, hot, and panicking. Not only was this obviously not going to be a PR,
but I realized that I wasn’t going to be able to finish. I was clearly
dehydrated and my body was so overworked from trying to cool itself down, I
felt absolutely terrible. It would be insane and dangerous to run 9 more miles
in this state.
I had never had a DNF result before. The thought of it made
me feel even sicker than I already felt. But then a better solution came to me.
The 10K and half had started at the same time and were still running the same
route. So I decided I would finish the 10K instead. I felt a little relieved
now that I had a plan and could avoid a DNF. But I was still heartbroken and
angry. How can you call yourself a real
runner when you can’t even handle a little heat? Everyone else around me seemed to be doing
just fine. I felt like a failure and a fraud.
I’m not sure how I got through the last two miles. It was
complete torture. I’d never even come close to feeling this bad in any of the
marathons I’d done. There was no shade whatsoever and there was one
particularly long uphill stretch on hot black pavement with the sun beating
brutally down on us. I took 3 waters at every stop and my pace felt like a slow
crawl. I consoled myself with the thought that this was probably the worst I
would ever feel while running. At one point during the final mile a woman who
was spectating offered me a drink from her water bottle. I was already so
overwhelmed with disappointment and frustration, her kindness just put my
emotions over the edge and I started crying.
When I finally crossed the finish line I mostly felt relief
that the torture was over and that I could finally drink water and Gatorade to
my heart’s content. I also felt a small sense of pride at my resilience.
Finishing that 10K felt more difficult than any half or full marathon I’d ever
done. But I still couldn’t shake the overwhelming disappointment. I’d devoted months of hard
work to training for this race and it was all for nothing.
I realize now of course that it wasn’t all for nothing. I
learned a lot of valuable lessons from my failed race (see all the mistakes
above). Heat and humidity are no joke. Next time I will be better prepared. And
of course I still have all the benefits I gained from those months of training, which I will continue to keep building upon before I go for my next 1:45 attempt in
September. Trust me, the score isn’t settled yet.
And speaking of scores to settle, fast forward to one week
later. I would be attempting an open water triathlon for the first time since
my disastrous experience two years ago. To recap, that race was my first open
water swim and I completely freaked out and basically backstroked the whole
thing. It’s not that I wasn’t physically ready last time; it was all about
mental preparedness. Swimming in lanes with a wall to hold onto at the end is
very different from vast open water. So for the past two years I’ve been
training myself mentally – Taking breaths every 5, 7, or 9 strokes instead of 3
to overcome that need to gasp for air, swimming in long 50 meter lanes to get
better acquainted with long stretches of uninterrupted swimming, and of course
practicing swimming in open water. Finally, I felt ready. This was my chance
for redemption.
So you can probably guess that another one of my goals for
2015 was to rock an open water triathlon. To me, this meant a few things: 1) PR
for all three events, 2) Get an age group award (since I had just narrowly
missed one last time thanks to the swim), and 3) absolutely no backstroking. Determining
what makes a PR is a little tricky with sprint triathlons because they are all
slightly different distances. This one would be a 400m swim, 12.4 mile bike,
and 3.4 mile run. So the bike and run portions were both a bit longer than
either of the 2 races I’d done before, so I decided to judge them by min/mile pace. As for the swim, the first triathlon I did in a pool was 400m, so my objective was to beat
that time.
Even though I felt ready, I was still a ball of nerves on
race morning. Jin would be doing the triathlon too (his first!) and it was
really nice having him there with me. We weren’t able to swim together though
because the start waves were based on gender and age. But that was okay… this
was my battle. I needed to win it alone.
Jin’s wave started 15 minutes before mine. Those 15 minutes
standing on the beach were torture. My stomach was in knots – I really just
wanted to get the swim over with. Watching Jin come out of the water made me so
jealous. All he had left were the fun parts! But I reminded myself of my new
mantra: “Do something that scares you everyday.”
When the horn finally went off signaling the start of my
wave, focus immediately set in. I began at a fairly slow pace because I knew
that in the beginning I just needed to remain calm. I tried not to look up too
often to see how far I had to go. Luckily there was a girl swimming about the
same pace right in front of me and the water was clear enough that I could see
her legs. I just focused on following them. Before I knew it, I’d reached
the halfway turn-around. I knew then that this swim was not going to defeat me.
Confidence was replacing fear, and all I had to do was swim back to the shore. I picked up
the pace in the second half, and not once did I backstroke! When my feet finally
touched the sandy bottom, relief, joy, and a little bit of disbelief washed over me.
I ran out of the water thinking about the words that I’d written two years ago in
my post about that first open water triathlon: “Still, I was proud of myself for conquering a pretty big fear that
day... I can’t say I conquered the actual swim though. But some day I will.”
Well guess what? That day was today!
With the swim officially conquered, I ran to the transition
area completely out of breath. And from then on, I never really did catch my
breath. The bike and run portions were a blur. I pedaled as fast as I could for
12.4 miles. Balls to the wall. It was an out and back course, which meant I got
to see Jin pass by going the other way J.
My quads were screaming by the end so when it was time to run, my legs felt as heavy as lead. I didn’t remember the run portion being this hard last time. We ran around the lake, which made for a
beautiful and mostly shaded course. Even though I was struggling more than I
had in previous triathlon runs, I think I was pretty much smiling the whole
time. All the way through to the finish line.
As it turns out, I did PR for each event! And I even got
first in my age group! Buuuuut it was only out of 2 people, so I’m not sure if
that really counts. Either way, I think it's safe to say that the triathlon was officially rocked.
I had
finally gotten redemption.
So why do we set goals and risk failure? Well, obviously for
moments like this. The moments of pure joy and pride when you prove to yourself
just what you’re made of. When all those days of heading out the door for a
workout even though all you want to do is sleep, finally pay off. When you
realize that fear can be shattered into a million little pieces… and most importantly, that
you’re pretty much a badass. Those moments are totally worth the risk.
