An Easy Decision

After 3 glorious, alpine days of playing in the woods with our bikes, Kevin and I headed to Lake Placid to volunteer, cheer on our fellow tri-pals, and eventually sign up for Ironman 2009. For the last 2 years we were at IMLP, we stayed outside of town in Saranac. We would get into town by 7am to swim in Mirror Lake, register, rack bikes, quickly run through the expo, and get the heck of there by 9am. I remember alot of nervous energy in town and wanted to limit my exposure to it before my first Ironman as did Kevin.

On Saturday, we arrived in Lake Placid midday, right in the middle of Ironman mania. Hordes of triathletes in their aerohelmets were riding their bikes in packs in the middle of traffic, seemingly oblivious to cars and pedestrians who apparently must step aside to their entitled Ironmanness. Even larger hordes of Ironman pedestrians paraded in their Mdot gear and finisher's shirts, posturing in overwhelming self-importance. I had packed my IMLP 07 finisher cap, but now didn't want to wear it. I didn't want to be part of some group of people who thought they were better than everyone else just because they did this race. Kevin felt the same and bemoaned that we should've never left Vermont. When did we become so negative about the whole Ironman scene that we were once part of? Did we mistaken all of this pretension for race enthusiasm for the last 2 years?
I tried to be equanimous (but not so much eloquent) and said,"In every group of people, there's always gonna be a few who are douche bags---that shouldn't take away our love of the activity" Take my profession: I know a tremendous number of conscientious, brilliant, caring surgeons who make me proud to be part of that vocation. I also know throngs of insecure, pompous, insufferable surgeons as well. I want to say to them,"Intimidating and belittling people now isn't going to make up for no one picking you for their dodgeball team in 2nd grade!" We tried to lighten our misanthropic mood by picking out the "Biggest Iron Douche" and got out of town as fast as we could.
Race day started with rain which reached a crescendo of monsoon-like downpour. We'd missed the swim start, but managed to catch a glimpse of some friends as they were finishing the first loop of the bike leg. Everyone was soaked and appeared to be ice-cold. Both of us volunteered in the medical tent from noon to 4pm. A few athletes trickled in with hypothermia. It seemed that anyone who crashed on the course was taken directly by ambulance to the hospital.
Then I saw the one person I hoped I'd never see during my shift at the medical tent. EMT's wheeled in Coach Mary on a gurney, wrapped in a blanket. I gasped when I saw her. She took one look at me and burst into tears. I started crying. She cried,"Kitima, I don't even remember your last name!" Her lips were blue and she was shivering uncontrollably. We quickly placed several bags of warmed saline around her. She recalls in detail how she received 3 hard blows to the head during the swim and where on the bike course she started having double vision. She remembered EXACTLY how many calories were in each of her bottles, the number of calories she had consumed, that each of her salt tablets contained 341 mg of sodium and that she had taken one precisely every 15 min. Not bad for someone who has a concussion! However, a few neurological hiccups in her exam made it obvious that there was no way she could or should continue with the race.
With my own DNF still fresh in my memory, I could feel the crushing disappointment of hers. While you can make mistakes in pacing, nutrition, salt intake, bike handling that will land you squarely in the medical tent, you can't predict or prevent getting kicked/elbowed in the head during the swim. But even something that was out of your control doesn't lessen the heartache of not finishing what you started and anticipated completing with outstanding results. I knew she'd get over it (if I could, she could!) in time, but for the immediate future Kevin and I stayed with her and tried to cheer her up with some pretty bad jokes.
The three of us eventually left the medical tent and made it to the Score-This! tent where we dropped off Mary with Rich Clark. Kevin and I cheered on the athletes running up the steep hill into town in the deluge. We knew what it was like to suffer through an Ironman, but to endure one in this horrific weather seemed a herculean effort. It was a truly inspiring sight. I thought that if my first Ironman last year had weather like today...of course, I'd do it. Rain was not about to spoil all that time, effort, money spent on training. However, 3 well-placed, perfectly timed blows to the head can. Up until my arrival in Lake Placid, I search for some nugget of enthusiasm to do this race again. I wanted the reason, the motivation for a second IMLP to be more than just go faster than last year. I thought I should have some excitement, some fire (even a whisp of a flame!) to want to do this Ironman again. I did not. Mary said (even in her brain scrambled state),"Unless you can't wait to sign up for Ironman today, don't do it tomorrow." The decision was easy and obvious. I wouldn't take a voucher tomorrow because I didn't feel utter committed or even remotely eager to do IMLP next year.
I know someday I'll be back. I truly do love the training and the race venue is like none other. When I do return, I'm sure I'll still want to go faster than my '07 time but I'll be at the start line with a passion for doing the race regardless of what that race day may bring.