Somewhere along the line I slipped off track. I’m caught moving one step up and two
steps back.
Bruce
Springsteen
The last week had been a
roller coaster for my coach and I.
For each thrilling ride to the top there had been an abysmal
descent. It had been a frustrating
time and for a while I felt like I was really undergoing a tremendous setback.
The swim had been been
fine. Why wouldn’t it? I was still using the buoy and using my
arms. It was my foot that was the
key piece and even in the swim I was still avoiding flip turns because I wasn’t sure how my toe
joint would feel pushing off the wall.
The question would be coming back on the bike, and more importantly the
run.
Summer in Bend is usually
very pleasant. Sunny and
temperatures in the 80’s. Every so
often we’ll get some weather that is considered warmer than normal – in this
case the mid 90’s. For someone from
Phoenix this would be a cool spell but in Bend, this would be 10 to 15 degrees
above normal. After two weeks in
Montana and Eastern Oregon, with very limited training under my belt, I came
back to a Bend that was baking under abnormally warm conditions.
The Tuesday after I returned
I went for a bike ride. The
temperatures were warm and I was unaccustomed to the conditions. While the ride went well my heart rate
was erratic. I was supposed to do
interval drills but ended up not finishing my last interval because I couldn’t
get my heart rate under control. I rode home on an easy spin and got in my
shoes for a quick run. The run was
a disaster. My legs felt like lead
weights.
Prior to this run Jaime and
I had discussed changing shoes. I
had been running in Newtons and Jaime wanted me to look at running in Hokas,
which were more forgiving and cushioned the foot better than the Newtons. I went to FootZone in Bend and talked
to Tonya Littlehales, a endurance race runner. She ran in both Hokas as well as Newtons so I felt that the
advice she was giving me was legit.
I chalked some of my running difficulty up to my shoes and tried to stem
the confidence issues that were creeping into my brain.
Jaime, Riley, and I were
supposed to go for a long ride on Wednesday. Jaime couldn’t get out of family obligations and the ride
was scheduled for the afternoon at a time when temperatures would be getting
close to 100. I really wanted to
figure out if my heart fluctuations had more to do with temperature conditions
so I begged off and went for an earlier ride. The ride up to Bachelor felt good and I felt like I had
turned the corner.
The following day I had a long
run planned. I had hoped to get
out the door early but some family issues conspired to not allow me to get out
the door until the temperatures were warming up. My run was planned into and through Shevlin Park. It’s a run that I thoroughly enjoy, even
if it can be tough. It involves
several steep ascents and descents as you run into the park. As I ran I didn’t feel any pain in my
right foot but I couldn’t get my legs to fire. I trudged through the run and became more and more depressed
as my run continued. I completed
my run, chunked my shoes in the corner, vented my frustration to the world, and
brooded. I felt like the Hokas
were heavy and I wasn’t sure if they would be a viable running option. When Jaime and I went over everything
he asked me about the run, I noted that on the good side I ran nine miles and
my foot didn’t hurt, but on the bad side I had probably run at my slowest pace
since George Washington was a schoolboy.
Jaime jumped on me and said, “so you ran nine miles and your foot doesn’t
hurt?” I realized that it was time
to look at my glass as being half full rather than being half empty.
The weekend arrived at it
involved both a long run and a long bike ride. Both went off without a hitch. No pain, and in the case of the run, I was able to run at a
comfortable pace in my Hokas. I
completed almost ten miles. My
foot felt ok and I felt like my pace was coming back to me. The legs definitely were firing, maybe
not on all cylinders, but certainly better than two days previous. On Sunday I biked 50 miles with Jaime
and Riley and Jaime noted that my legs were back. I felt a slight sense of satisfaction and hoped that things
would continue to improve.
A week after my first bike
venture I had an hour and half brick to complete. A brick involves a bike ride followed immediately by a
run. It is one of the best ways to
emulate a triathlon condition. I
went out under overcast skies and began my bike ride. I didn’t look at the numbers and just rode. I followed the route that riders in the
final stage of the Cascade Cycling Classic rode two days earlier. It felt good and the hill climbs felt particularly
satisfying. The pudding however
would be proved in the run.
I completed the bike and ran
into the garage to drop off the bike and grab my run stuff. I had decided ahead of time that I’d be
testing out the Newtons I had worn in Bozeman. It would be the first time in almost a month that I’d be
running in these shoes. I strapped
on the shoes and headed out to the trails. The pace felt good and better yet, my foot didn’t hurt. As with the bike I didn’t worry about
the times, I just worried about running.
The minutes and distance ticked by and things felt good. As I completed my run it started to
rain. It felt good on my body and
I welcomed the cool water. It felt
almost a bit like a rebirth. I’d
been through a rough month and I felt like all of that had been washed away and
it was time to start anew. I felt
like I was ready for my Olympic race on Saturday. I resolved that I wouldn’t look at numbers, I’d just go
out and have fun. That’s really
how it should be. Truth be told,
the numbers do sometimes get in the way.
Jaime and I traded texts and
I thanked him for his patience as I worked through my injury. It had been a new experience. With each of these events I experience
something new, a bit of self-doubt, and a need for a certain amount of
affirmation. I asked him if as a
triathlete the experience ever became old hat. If things became rote and you pretty much went through every
experience to the point where you never faced the unknown. While I waited for his reply it gave me
time to think about my question.
These new experiences can be frustrating. These are the challenges that must be addressed as one works
their way through this lifestyle.
At times you can feel like you’re taking a step forward, only to find
that you are quickly taking two steps back. Later I heard back from Jaime. He noted that tri is never old hat because our bodies are
constantly changing, as is our knowledge.
As soon as we figure one thing out, it changes. In reality, I think part of the reason
why I, and others choose to do triathlons is because it never becomes old hat.
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