Bozeman

You ran how many miles on that?

I looked a bit sheepishly at the doctor, with the slightest tinge of pride.  “Just under six and a half miles”, I said.  He looked at me, shook his head, and sighed.  Then he said as he started his exam, “Well, I hope it was worth it.”  Deep down, even though I was in a lot of pain, I knew that it had been exactly just that – it was truly worth it.

I signed up for the Bozeman Olympic Triathlon because we were going to be in the area.  It would give me an excuse to see some old Albuquerque and high school friends, and a chance to complete a race before my family met up with some other family members to begin a two-week vacation in Montana and Eastern Oregon.

I was three weeks coming off my race in Boise.  It had been an interesting three weeks.  The day of the race in Boise a major fire broke out to the west of Bend, only a few miles from our house.  I returned home to a level-two evacuation order and a request from my wife to get a bag packed in order to be able to sufficiently live for five days.  At most we’d probably have 30 minutes notice to get out of the house. 

During those three weeks I’d sweat out the evacuation order and fire, close the school year, write narratives on each of my thirty students, fight off allergies, and later determine that I had a sinus infection.  It wasn’t exactly how I’d planned on getting ready for Bozeman.  My training was at best one big hiccup due to the sinus infection.  Still I felt like I’d be ok going into the race.

My good friend Brian was kind enough to drop me off at the crack of dawn.  The sun had yet to rise over the Bridger Mountains.  Several days of rain had left things clammy and cold but there was promise of a clear day ahead.  I got marked and headed to the transition area.  I got everything arranged and walked around prior to the athlete’s meeting.  “Hey dog, are you from New Mexico?”  I looked over to see a woman in a kit with zia symbols talking to me.  I walked over and introduced myself.  The woman was Terry Moore, and she was in town for her sister’s wedding.  We talked about mutual friends and she told me that she knew my coach Jaime.  We wished each other luck and I went back to my area to start putting on my wetsuit. 

The swim was two loops so everyone would swim a circuit, run out and run back into the lake to complete a second loop.  As with Boise I chose to hold back a bit.  I still wasn’t ready to dive into the belly of the swarming beast so to speak.  The gun went off and we began.  I felt comfortable and even found myself passing other swimmers.  I sighted and passed each of the three buoys and found myself running up the beach and back into the water for my second round.  I felt confident and wasn’t tired.  As I passed the second of three buoys I began to slowly push harder.  I could hear Jaime telling me that I wasn’t going to be using my arms after the swim and I felt myself catching harder and faster with each stroke.  I swam around the last buoy and really began to push hard.  I passed by a couple of swimmers and glided toward the beach.  My fingers grazed the bottom so I felt it was safe to come out of the water and run up toward the beach.  With both my hands I pulled forward and brought my legs and feet forward.  My right foot came down hard and the ball of my foot slammed onto a rock as I brought my body up.  The pain was instantaneous and I stumbled and fell forward back into the water.  I quickly regained my composure and ran up the beach.  I ripped off my wetsuit and marveled at the fact that steam was coming off my body.  As wild as that was I knew I needed to get going.  I grabbed my bike and helmet and made my way out of the transition area.

The transition out of the bike area was a long narrow green carpet.  I ran with my bike along the path and made my way up to the road to begin the bike portion of the race.  I took off and started peddling hard.  Jaime had told me that this was a race to crush and to basically go balls to the wall.  He said he wanted to look hard at the data from the race and use this to calibrate my training for Lake Stevens.  I found a comfortable cadence and started picking off racers in front of me.  Save for one steep hill and a couple of rollers this was a relatively easy and flat course.  I had mixed up a nutrition drink of 2 scoops of perpetuem, ½ a serving of scratch, and water.  My front water bottle encouraged me to take sips throughout my ride.  Quicker than I had expected I was at the halfway point of the bike and it was time to head back.  I felt good and kept picking off riders.  This was going to be a good race in my mind.

I made my way back to the end of the road and dismounted.  It was time to retrace my route on the carpet back to the transition.  The big difference this time was that athletes competing in the sprint portion of the triathlon were just beginning the bike portion of the race.  Through this narrow path athletes were coming and going with their bikes running as quickly as their bike shoes would allow.  I noticed as I navigated along the path that my right foot felt a bit tender.  Quickly I ran into the transition area and got my things for the run.

My left shoe was on and I shoved my right shoe on ready to take off.  For some reason my foot wasn’t easily going into the shoe.  I grabbed the tongue, pulled hard, and stuffed my right foot into the shoe.  Strange, I didn’t remember it being this hard to get the shoe on.  Oh well, it was on.  I grabbed my hat and glasses and made my way out of the transition area, which had now become controlled chaos with bikers going in and out and now runners making their way out onto the course. 

My original goal was to start out at an 8:30 pace and work my way down each mile so I’d be running at a 7:15 pace by the end.  As with the bike Jaime had wanted me to run all out and crush it.  As I started I felt some discomfort in the ball of my right foot and I felt like something was pushing up against my big toe.  I ran out onto the course and tried to forget about the discomfort.  The first part of the course was on a twisting path through a meadow and then through a forest grove full of purple fireweed.  The beauty of the flowers momentarily took my mind off the pain.  The trail dumped into a residential area that ringed a golf course.  I was able to pick up my pace on the flat portion of the course.  The pain was dulled but was ever present.  Trying to pick up the pace too much intensified the pain in the bottom of my foot.  I was wavering around 8:30.  Anything quicker and my foot really began to hurt.  I realized that my original plan was not going to happen.  The pain was just too difficult to overcome.  I settled on a pace somewhere between 8:30 and 8:45.  That seemed to be a pace that I could maintain while mentally pushing through the pain.  The course was shaped like a large figure eight and would consist of two laps.  The bottom part of the figure eight went around the lake we had swum in just over an hour earlier.  As I ran around the lake a voice behind me shouted out, “Looking good and strong dog!”  As Terry shot by me towards the finish I veered to the left to begin my second lap.  I told myself I was halfway through and that I was going to get this done.  I knew though that the pain was increasing and it would be tough to maintain a consistent pace.  The climbing and descents of the hilly portion of the course were extremely painful and I felt my pace slow.  I decided that no matter how hard it was going to be that I had to shoot for an 8:45 pace for the remaining three miles even if it killed me.  Teeth gritted, I pushed forward and tried to block out the pain. I gave shout outs to those I passed and hoped the positive cajoling would give me a boost.  It took my mind off the pain and I felt a bit of euphoria when I crested the last hill and saw the lake before me.  As I rounded the lake and was hitting the homestretch I heard Terry and her friends cheer me on.  I came into the finish shoot and breathed a sigh of relief as I crossed the finish line.  I knew I had bettered my Olympic time and I was happy to be done.  I walked toward the relief table and felt the pain in my right foot increase with each step.  I ran into Terry and we congratulated each other on a well-run race.  Terry finished third overall and won the women’s division.  We wished each other well and I made my way back to my transition area.  My foot was in full throb mode so I figured that it was probably time to remove my shoe and check on the damage.  I removed my right sock and was greeted with a black and blue big toe.  I turned my foot over and noted that the ball of my right foot was bloodied and twice the size of the ball of my left foot. 

I quickly gathered up my things, grabbed my bike, and hobbled toward my wife and daughter.  My wife, who is a doctor, took one look at my right foot and said, “Hmm, looks like we need to go to urgent care.  Do you remember when you last had a tetanus shot?”

The visit to urgent care took about as long as the race itself.  The verdict?  More than likely I had either a hyper-extended or a hyper-flexed toe joint.  This probably happened when I fell back into the water.  The x-ray revealed what appeared to be a hairline fracture on the sesamoid bone.  This probably happened when I slammed the ball of my foot onto the rock.  Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but it certainly could have been worse.  Even with the slow pace of the run and the intense pain I bettered my Olympic course time by five minutes.  And yes, to answer the Doctor’s question, it was totally worth it.