Trial by Fire

I am happy to report that I won my trial by unaminous vote of the jury. The entire process was horrible--and that's putting it mildly.



The day after deliberations and the verdict Kevin and I drove to Cambridge, MD for Eagleman. I had done very little training in the last 6 weeks for obvious reasons. I had really underestimated how much this trial would impact me emotionally and mentally. I figured I'd be over-rested (vs. under-trained) going into the race. Even though Eagleman was my A race, I was gonna break 5:40, go to Half-Max and/or Clearwater, I was so numb and exhausted after the verdict that I really didn't have enough mental energy to be anxious or worried about it or my lack of training.



We rented a cottage in the middle of the most swampy, mosquito-infested, horse fly-ridden part of the Blackwater Wildlife Refuge. Swarms of blood-sucking insects plagued us anytime we were outdoors and moving slower than a jog. The cottage itself was comfortable and had air conditioning. Rolando, Marian, and Mike Foster arrived later that evening; Erika would join us the next day. It was wonderful to see them and catch up. Just as I predicted, we hurt ourselves laughing so hard the whole weekend.

Rolando, Mike, Kevin, and I rode for 10 min then ran another 10 min. We all felt great in the 90+ heat, but made mental notes to really keep on top of hydration and salt intake for the race. We jumped into the Choptank River for a lovely swim later that afternoon. Mike lamented that he was undertrained, but he still was the super swimmer we remembered. Later that night, he told us about how he raced the 100m IM at a college meet against Andy Potts. They finished within 0.01 sec of each other--something like 53.99 seconds. Marian and I looked at each other and thought,"Holy cow! I can swim 50m free just slightly faster than that!"



The race: I felt very calm the entire time. It seemed everyone in transition on race morning was very serious, completely anti-social, and some a bit on the douchey side. Oh well, I figured they were just jealous of my aero helmet resplendent in its fish stickers.

The swim felt absolutely fabulous. No waves, no current. I started right in the front--I'm not a strong swimmer at all, but I didn't want to miss a drafting opportunity. After IMLP, I would not have fear of swim starts again. I felt strong, sighted perfectly, and swam straight. When I got out of the water, I was disappointed to see that I was 3 min slower than last year. I didn't know at the time that the swim was slightly longer than last year and everyone's time was slower. Now I had it in my stubborn head that I had 3 min to make up on the bike.

The first hour of the bike I averaged over 20mph. I drank my 28 oz of nutrition and felt great--like I had alot of reserves to really put out more watts for the last 20 miles. Silly me! For the next 15 miles, I progressively felt bloated and nauseous. I couldn't stay in aero without wanting to puke. All I wanted to do was pour cold water on myself (which I did at every aid station). Around mile 30 I was getting ready to vomit when some guy rides up behind me and says,"Hey! You are really sexy! I'm gonna follow you around the whole race!" I swallowed my vomitus and managed to say,"Thanks." Vanity beats GI distress.
I muster some energy to pass the guy and don't see him again until mile 50. Now I'm really in bad shape. There isn't enough cold water in the world to pour over my head. I think,"You could be having a heat stroke. The symptoms include change in mental status and disorientation. No way! How can you be disoriented when you're thinking clinical thoughts?" The few shady spots that I ride by offer little relief. I really want to just stop and lie down--I wouldn't even have to unclip from the bike. Another of wave of nausea hits me and puke percolates from my bloated belly.
"Hey, sexy! Did you wait for me?"
It's that guy again. For crying out loud, does he have a Kitima Ralph-o-meter? The situation is so incredibly cheesy and sleazy that I should've puked, but I couldn't. Instead, I continued to pedal up to 130 watts (an easy spin for me), hold it for 2 minutes, then completely stop pedaling for lack of energy and coast for 2 min. At this point, I knew something was wrong but I refused to ride an ambulance 16 miles from the end of the bike course. Stubborness beats all forms of logic.
When I finally claw my way back to T2, a volunteer meets me at the end of the chute and says, "I'm going to take your bike."
I thought, "Awesome! This is like the bike valet at IMLP."
When another volunteer radioed for medical, I figured out that I must've looked as bad as I felt---sexy though! The volunteer asked me what my bid number was. I really had no idea despite having that number written in black ink all over my body. Then they asked me what my name was. Again, I really had no idea. I had spent all last week telling lawyers my name on the witness stand and I couldn't come up with it now. Sheesh. While I was searching my memory banks for my name, someone started taking off my chip and ordering me to the medical tent. I asked,"If I go to medical, can I run afterwards?" The answer was scowling from everyone gathered around me.
Off to medical tent I stumbled (I couldn't get there without someone holding me up) where I was packed in ice and had gallons of cold water pour on me. I stayed there for 40 minutes and drank what seemed like the entire volume of the Choptank River in cold bottled water before I could get up and walk out on my own. Part of me was disappointed not to finish the race, but another part of me was so happy not to be running in the oppressive heat. I learned later that it was 104 degrees that day.

So it's my first triathlon DNF. I feel like I should be more sad and disappointed but eh...who knew I'd get heat exhaustion? I think that I was so focused on making up time on the bike that I probably went out too hard, overheated, had gut shutdown, then eventually became dehydrated and had heat exhaustion. However, if I'd been instructed to take it really, really easy on the watts for the first hour of the ride I probably wouldn't have done it because I felt so strong. I guess some lessons you just have to learn yourself.

The upside of this is that I really feel like training again. That stupid law suit is finally over after 4 years (yes, it started 4 years ago). I feel like I can finally lay to rest all the sadness, anger, and anxiety that came with it. My next race is in 5 weeks; and I can't wait to do my long rides and runs in midday heat. Bring on the Tarzan hot for Musselman!