Wednesday, November 01, 2006
My 2005 Treasure Island Story - Finally
Last Wednesday I was given the honor of speaking at the Fall Tri Team’s send off party. I wasn’t so sure that my story was the story to share with a room full of first time triathletes the week before their first race, but Coach Chris felt that it would be a good send off story so I told it. The following is a fairly accurate retelling of my Treasure Island experience from last year. I apologize if it is a little teachy but it is from my notes for my presentation to the fall team.
After doing 2 marathons with the team, I wanted to try something different last year and decided that Treasure Island was the event for me. All I needed to do was to buy a bike, learn to ride (haven’t been on a bike in many years), overcome my fear of water, and learn to swim. It almost seemed too easy!
So I bought a bike, signed up for swim lessons at the YMCA, and joined the team. I instantly fell in love with cycling and at first there were lots of people who swam like me so even that wasn’t so bad. Everything was happy and good... for now. As time passed, everyone got better at swimming and I did not. I couldn’t make it from one side of the pool to the other without having to stop to catch my breath. I kept training and assuming that it would just click eventually but I was starting to get worried. My first open water swim did a lot to reassure me because the extra buoyancy of the wetsuit let me move through the water more easily and removed any fear that I could drown, but I was still in no place to do the 1500 meter swim at Treasure Island.
As the race continued to get closer and my swimming was not improving, I began to wonder if I wouldn’t be better off switching to the sprint distance race. I knew I could handle the bike and the run, but the swim was becoming a bit intimidating. In the end I decided to sign up for both races. If I couldn’t finish the Olympic swim on Saturday, then I could do the sprint race on Sunday. Now I had a backup plan and I was feeling much better. Okay, maybe “much better” is a bit of an exaggeration but you get the idea. I think my real failing here was not realizing just how badly the race could go. I would soon find out the hard way!
Race morning finally arrives and the weather is beautiful!!! Sunny and warming up quickly! We are all excited and nervous and all of the other things that you are supposed to be on race morning! I set up my transition, went and got in line for the porta-potties, checked my transition again, got in line for the porta-potties again, checked my gear a third time, got my wetsuit on, checked my transition for the fourth time (do you get the impression that I had some nervous energy) and then got my wetsuit on and started to congregate at the starting area. The coaches were out giving us some last minute instructions and a pep talk about how great we were going to do. At least I think that is what they were saying. I was kind in my own world and staring at the buoys about 17 miles out in the water (ok, so maybe they weren’t quite that far but they were definitely further then they should have been).
Finally, it is our turn to get in the water. The waves were leaving every 15 minutes so we had about 10 minutes to swim around and get used to the REALLY cold bay water. The thought that is repeating in my head at this point is “What the HELL are you doing here! In what way is this a good idea! The longest swim you have ever done is 800 yards and that took like 14 hours to finish!" I was finally able to calm myself down a bit by repeating the most important swimming tip I had ever received and it is one that I freely pass along to you now. “Breathe in above water, breathe out under water... Breathe in above water, breathe out under water...” I find this works well as a breathing mantra as it is the one thing that I do not want to forget and do incorrectly.
The starting signal is sounded and we start swimming. TI is 3 buoys in a triangle that is 750 meters around and you have to do 2 loops to finish the distance. I swim for a while and then stop to catch my breath. Swim... rest... swim... rest. Through this process, I got to meet the super great volunteers in the kayaks out supporting the swim. I have no idea where they found these angels of the water but they helped to keep my spirits up during that first lap. 45 minutes into the swim and I finally complete the first lap (I did mention that I am a horrible swimmer right). A 90 minute pace is about what I was expecting so all in all I was feeling pretty good at this point. That was all about to change!
After rounding the starting buoy, I took a little break and then started to swim again. When I lowered my head to take my first stroke, everything started spinning and it took me several seconds to figure out which direction up was. Not so good! As I continued out, I was dizzy, light headed, and nauseous! I kept going and chipping away at the distance but I was miserable. Again I feel the need to thank the great water support team for keeping me company and feeling like I was safe, but I was fading fast. This was not the swim I was expecting and I was truly hating every second of this.
I feel the need to pause for a moment and share what is probably the most important lesson that I learned from this whole experience. When things go bad, the reasons to quit are everywhere. You don’t need to look for them. You don’t need to rationalize an excuse. It just all comes naturally. What doesn’t come as easily is all of the reasons that made you decide to do this in the first place. You forget about all of those early morning swims that you suffered through so that you could be in the race now. You forget about all of the tear wrenching stories from your honorees. You forget about how great the finish line feels after the race. These are the things that you need to think about in advance and have ready in the back of your mind to fight all of the negative emotions that rush out when things take a bad turn. I did not have these prepared and I was ready to quit. I was happy to quit. The thought of being warm and dry on land was so seductive that nothing else mattered.
Just as I was about to quit, the TNT women’s wave was getting fired up to get into the water. They had an honoree from the East Bay team speaking to them and loudly telling them how great they were and how great they were going to do. They are not quitters and they will not let this race beat them. I am in the water thinking to myself “But I am a quitter, I want to quit, I want to be dry” in a very whinny and annoying voice. As he continued on and on about the cause and all of the people that we were helping to live better lives, I realized that I couldn’t quit. I wanted to but I could not.
I started swimming again with renewed determination to not let this swim beat me. I stopped long enough to cheer the women as they passed me for the first time (2 laps, they will pass me again later) and encourage them. Several stopped to ask how I was doing and cheer me on in the middle of there race. How can you not love TNT participants!
We should fast forward a bit now towards the end of the swim. I am finally rounding the last buoy and heading to the finish area. Most of the rest of the swimmers have already finished and have moved on to the bike and run but a few people from the last waves are still out with me. I am getting colder and sicker as I go but I am fully committed at this point. There is no way that I will let all of this suffering be for nothing. I will finish this swim if it kills me (which is actually starting to sound like a preferable option at this time in the swim). As I am making my last desperate drive down the home stretch, my stomach finally surrenders and I am physically ill in the water. Luckily there is only 4 other people still in the water and they are no where near me so I don’t feel to badly about polluting their water. I manage to push on and finally reach the end where it takes 2 people to drag my body from the water and up onto the exit stairs.
Dry land at last!!!! I try to stand only to realize that I am even dizzier then I had realized and some one actually had to walk me to the timing mat where Coach Chris met me. Keep in mind that I have just spent 2 miserable hours out in the water, I can barely stand, I am freezing, and I am dehydrated. I am not in a happy place. The last thing that I want is a Pep talk. Chris takes one look at me, smiles and says “You did it!!! You finished the swim!!! The bike and run will be easy now!” I don’t know if it is a coach thing or just Chris, but somehow he knew that this is probably the only phrase that he could have uttered that would actually make me excited to be in transition! Chris helped me to my bike and helped me out of my wetsuit (being unable to stand under my own power made changing difficult). Technically, I probably should have been penalized for getting help in transition, but seriously, who is going to penalize the guy who just spent 2 hours on an Olympic swim! Like it would matter that is point!
I suck down some sports drink and a cliff bar and manage to some how get dressed for the bike. My transition was on the order of 20 minutes but I was starting to feel stable by the time I hit the bike mounting area and actually got going without falling over. I am going pretty slowly because of all of the exertion and problems in the water but I am moving. All of a sudden it hits me. I am out of the water!! I am on my bike and loving life!!! I smile at everyone I pass and thank every volunteer, cop, and cheering spectator who will make eye contact with me! The sun is shining and the birds are singing. A new day had dawned!
An interesting side note on the bike ride is that I am basically the only man left on the course at this point (the men’s waves went first). The course involves doing 6 twisting loops on the poorly maintained roads of Treasure Island and on one of those laps, a women who was cheering us on noticed me and yelled that she was going to “flash” me the next time I rode by. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but when I came back around there she was with her shirt up high flashing me! Having never been flashed before, I was a little surprised by how disappointing it was. Flying by on a bike at 14 mph, everything is kind of a blur, but as they say, “it’s the thought that counts”
So here I am slowly looping the island again and again, smiling and cheering everyone on when on my last lap I see Coach Chris yelling at me to go. At the time, I didn’t realize what was happening, but a short time later, a motorcycle with a police officer on it tells me they are closing the course for the pros and that I need to get off the road now. 2 miles from the transition and I am being pulled from the course!!! Didn’t they know what I had been through!!!!!
I get off of my bike and begin to walk back to the transition area. The word “Frustration” does not even begin to do justice to how I was feeling. I wanted to throw my bike down and just scream, but I didn’t. The only thing I knew at that point was that I was NOT coming back the next day to go through all of this again. I was tired and dehydrated. There was no way that I could be ready physically or emotionally for another race the next day. I was done.
After racking my bike and changing shoes, I headed out to the run course to cheer on my team. The worst part of all was that I had to retell the story of my failure over and over again as I ran into more and more of my friends. The only thing that kept me going was seeing every one coming down the final stretch into the finish area finishing their first Tri.
Somewhere between the 20th telling on my story and the “victory” dinner that night, I managed to talk myself into at least considering racing again the next day. My friends and coaches didn’t push me but were very supportive and that really helped me to come around. Needless to say, I did race the next day.
This is getting very long so I will keep my story of the 2nd day to minimum. They actually announced my name at my wave start as someone who missed the cut on the previous day but was back for another try. I was a little embarrassed but the crowd really got behind my story and cheered me on. Day 2 was only a 500 meter swim (1/3 the distance of day 1). I was tired and dehydrated but still managed to finish the swim in 25 minutes, cut my transition by ½, rode about 2 mph faster then the day before and set a personal record for my fastest 5k ever at the end of the race!!! Not bad for my 2nd day of racing!
It took me months to really get over the emotional impact of failing to finish that race, but the interesting thing is that now, one year later, the thing that I bring away from that race is that I finished the swim. With how under prepared I was and how miserable I felt, I finished. The amount of confidence that I have taken from that has carried me through all of my other failed races and allowed me the audacity to try an Ironman. I finished that swim when I had absolutely no right to be in that race. Imagine how things will go when I actually know how to swim :-)
After doing 2 marathons with the team, I wanted to try something different last year and decided that Treasure Island was the event for me. All I needed to do was to buy a bike, learn to ride (haven’t been on a bike in many years), overcome my fear of water, and learn to swim. It almost seemed too easy!
So I bought a bike, signed up for swim lessons at the YMCA, and joined the team. I instantly fell in love with cycling and at first there were lots of people who swam like me so even that wasn’t so bad. Everything was happy and good... for now. As time passed, everyone got better at swimming and I did not. I couldn’t make it from one side of the pool to the other without having to stop to catch my breath. I kept training and assuming that it would just click eventually but I was starting to get worried. My first open water swim did a lot to reassure me because the extra buoyancy of the wetsuit let me move through the water more easily and removed any fear that I could drown, but I was still in no place to do the 1500 meter swim at Treasure Island.
As the race continued to get closer and my swimming was not improving, I began to wonder if I wouldn’t be better off switching to the sprint distance race. I knew I could handle the bike and the run, but the swim was becoming a bit intimidating. In the end I decided to sign up for both races. If I couldn’t finish the Olympic swim on Saturday, then I could do the sprint race on Sunday. Now I had a backup plan and I was feeling much better. Okay, maybe “much better” is a bit of an exaggeration but you get the idea. I think my real failing here was not realizing just how badly the race could go. I would soon find out the hard way!
Race morning finally arrives and the weather is beautiful!!! Sunny and warming up quickly! We are all excited and nervous and all of the other things that you are supposed to be on race morning! I set up my transition, went and got in line for the porta-potties, checked my transition again, got in line for the porta-potties again, checked my gear a third time, got my wetsuit on, checked my transition for the fourth time (do you get the impression that I had some nervous energy) and then got my wetsuit on and started to congregate at the starting area. The coaches were out giving us some last minute instructions and a pep talk about how great we were going to do. At least I think that is what they were saying. I was kind in my own world and staring at the buoys about 17 miles out in the water (ok, so maybe they weren’t quite that far but they were definitely further then they should have been).
Finally, it is our turn to get in the water. The waves were leaving every 15 minutes so we had about 10 minutes to swim around and get used to the REALLY cold bay water. The thought that is repeating in my head at this point is “What the HELL are you doing here! In what way is this a good idea! The longest swim you have ever done is 800 yards and that took like 14 hours to finish!" I was finally able to calm myself down a bit by repeating the most important swimming tip I had ever received and it is one that I freely pass along to you now. “Breathe in above water, breathe out under water... Breathe in above water, breathe out under water...” I find this works well as a breathing mantra as it is the one thing that I do not want to forget and do incorrectly.
The starting signal is sounded and we start swimming. TI is 3 buoys in a triangle that is 750 meters around and you have to do 2 loops to finish the distance. I swim for a while and then stop to catch my breath. Swim... rest... swim... rest. Through this process, I got to meet the super great volunteers in the kayaks out supporting the swim. I have no idea where they found these angels of the water but they helped to keep my spirits up during that first lap. 45 minutes into the swim and I finally complete the first lap (I did mention that I am a horrible swimmer right). A 90 minute pace is about what I was expecting so all in all I was feeling pretty good at this point. That was all about to change!
After rounding the starting buoy, I took a little break and then started to swim again. When I lowered my head to take my first stroke, everything started spinning and it took me several seconds to figure out which direction up was. Not so good! As I continued out, I was dizzy, light headed, and nauseous! I kept going and chipping away at the distance but I was miserable. Again I feel the need to thank the great water support team for keeping me company and feeling like I was safe, but I was fading fast. This was not the swim I was expecting and I was truly hating every second of this.
I feel the need to pause for a moment and share what is probably the most important lesson that I learned from this whole experience. When things go bad, the reasons to quit are everywhere. You don’t need to look for them. You don’t need to rationalize an excuse. It just all comes naturally. What doesn’t come as easily is all of the reasons that made you decide to do this in the first place. You forget about all of those early morning swims that you suffered through so that you could be in the race now. You forget about all of the tear wrenching stories from your honorees. You forget about how great the finish line feels after the race. These are the things that you need to think about in advance and have ready in the back of your mind to fight all of the negative emotions that rush out when things take a bad turn. I did not have these prepared and I was ready to quit. I was happy to quit. The thought of being warm and dry on land was so seductive that nothing else mattered.
Just as I was about to quit, the TNT women’s wave was getting fired up to get into the water. They had an honoree from the East Bay team speaking to them and loudly telling them how great they were and how great they were going to do. They are not quitters and they will not let this race beat them. I am in the water thinking to myself “But I am a quitter, I want to quit, I want to be dry” in a very whinny and annoying voice. As he continued on and on about the cause and all of the people that we were helping to live better lives, I realized that I couldn’t quit. I wanted to but I could not.
I started swimming again with renewed determination to not let this swim beat me. I stopped long enough to cheer the women as they passed me for the first time (2 laps, they will pass me again later) and encourage them. Several stopped to ask how I was doing and cheer me on in the middle of there race. How can you not love TNT participants!
We should fast forward a bit now towards the end of the swim. I am finally rounding the last buoy and heading to the finish area. Most of the rest of the swimmers have already finished and have moved on to the bike and run but a few people from the last waves are still out with me. I am getting colder and sicker as I go but I am fully committed at this point. There is no way that I will let all of this suffering be for nothing. I will finish this swim if it kills me (which is actually starting to sound like a preferable option at this time in the swim). As I am making my last desperate drive down the home stretch, my stomach finally surrenders and I am physically ill in the water. Luckily there is only 4 other people still in the water and they are no where near me so I don’t feel to badly about polluting their water. I manage to push on and finally reach the end where it takes 2 people to drag my body from the water and up onto the exit stairs.
Dry land at last!!!! I try to stand only to realize that I am even dizzier then I had realized and some one actually had to walk me to the timing mat where Coach Chris met me. Keep in mind that I have just spent 2 miserable hours out in the water, I can barely stand, I am freezing, and I am dehydrated. I am not in a happy place. The last thing that I want is a Pep talk. Chris takes one look at me, smiles and says “You did it!!! You finished the swim!!! The bike and run will be easy now!” I don’t know if it is a coach thing or just Chris, but somehow he knew that this is probably the only phrase that he could have uttered that would actually make me excited to be in transition! Chris helped me to my bike and helped me out of my wetsuit (being unable to stand under my own power made changing difficult). Technically, I probably should have been penalized for getting help in transition, but seriously, who is going to penalize the guy who just spent 2 hours on an Olympic swim! Like it would matter that is point!
I suck down some sports drink and a cliff bar and manage to some how get dressed for the bike. My transition was on the order of 20 minutes but I was starting to feel stable by the time I hit the bike mounting area and actually got going without falling over. I am going pretty slowly because of all of the exertion and problems in the water but I am moving. All of a sudden it hits me. I am out of the water!! I am on my bike and loving life!!! I smile at everyone I pass and thank every volunteer, cop, and cheering spectator who will make eye contact with me! The sun is shining and the birds are singing. A new day had dawned!
An interesting side note on the bike ride is that I am basically the only man left on the course at this point (the men’s waves went first). The course involves doing 6 twisting loops on the poorly maintained roads of Treasure Island and on one of those laps, a women who was cheering us on noticed me and yelled that she was going to “flash” me the next time I rode by. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but when I came back around there she was with her shirt up high flashing me! Having never been flashed before, I was a little surprised by how disappointing it was. Flying by on a bike at 14 mph, everything is kind of a blur, but as they say, “it’s the thought that counts”
So here I am slowly looping the island again and again, smiling and cheering everyone on when on my last lap I see Coach Chris yelling at me to go. At the time, I didn’t realize what was happening, but a short time later, a motorcycle with a police officer on it tells me they are closing the course for the pros and that I need to get off the road now. 2 miles from the transition and I am being pulled from the course!!! Didn’t they know what I had been through!!!!!
I get off of my bike and begin to walk back to the transition area. The word “Frustration” does not even begin to do justice to how I was feeling. I wanted to throw my bike down and just scream, but I didn’t. The only thing I knew at that point was that I was NOT coming back the next day to go through all of this again. I was tired and dehydrated. There was no way that I could be ready physically or emotionally for another race the next day. I was done.
After racking my bike and changing shoes, I headed out to the run course to cheer on my team. The worst part of all was that I had to retell the story of my failure over and over again as I ran into more and more of my friends. The only thing that kept me going was seeing every one coming down the final stretch into the finish area finishing their first Tri.
Somewhere between the 20th telling on my story and the “victory” dinner that night, I managed to talk myself into at least considering racing again the next day. My friends and coaches didn’t push me but were very supportive and that really helped me to come around. Needless to say, I did race the next day.
This is getting very long so I will keep my story of the 2nd day to minimum. They actually announced my name at my wave start as someone who missed the cut on the previous day but was back for another try. I was a little embarrassed but the crowd really got behind my story and cheered me on. Day 2 was only a 500 meter swim (1/3 the distance of day 1). I was tired and dehydrated but still managed to finish the swim in 25 minutes, cut my transition by ½, rode about 2 mph faster then the day before and set a personal record for my fastest 5k ever at the end of the race!!! Not bad for my 2nd day of racing!
It took me months to really get over the emotional impact of failing to finish that race, but the interesting thing is that now, one year later, the thing that I bring away from that race is that I finished the swim. With how under prepared I was and how miserable I felt, I finished. The amount of confidence that I have taken from that has carried me through all of my other failed races and allowed me the audacity to try an Ironman. I finished that swim when I had absolutely no right to be in that race. Imagine how things will go when I actually know how to swim :-)
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Charles,
Thanks for sharing your story. I remember that day very well. Though you might have felt bad about having trouble with the long swim, you didn't give up, and you did come back the very next day. I didn't see you then, but I heard the story a little later, and I was really glad you made it back the next day.
As you may remember, I started training for that same triathon. Unlike you, I couldn't even keep up with the training. I was reduced to cheering from the sideline, when I really should have been out there in the pack. Well, there's always another year. Maybe I can at least be that honoree that encourages folks at the start. Your persistence in the face of adversity is inspiring, and encourages to me to keep coming back when it would be easy to pack it in and go watch TV.
Terry
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Thanks for sharing your story. I remember that day very well. Though you might have felt bad about having trouble with the long swim, you didn't give up, and you did come back the very next day. I didn't see you then, but I heard the story a little later, and I was really glad you made it back the next day.
As you may remember, I started training for that same triathon. Unlike you, I couldn't even keep up with the training. I was reduced to cheering from the sideline, when I really should have been out there in the pack. Well, there's always another year. Maybe I can at least be that honoree that encourages folks at the start. Your persistence in the face of adversity is inspiring, and encourages to me to keep coming back when it would be easy to pack it in and go watch TV.
Terry
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