The Day I Stopped Believing Was The Day I Started Believing Again

I won’t lie, it has been a rough two years. With my son being diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes, and the roller coaster that followed I must admit I stopped believing in myself as an athlete. I was in the midst of training for my first Ironman that was to take place in Chattanooga in 2016 when our lives were turned upside down. But just like we preach to our boys, I had to pick myself up and keep moving forward. That fateful night, when I was pulled off the run course in my first full Ironman Triathlon, I mentally gave up. I never give up on anything in life nor did I ever give up that night but I lost a part of myself when the three little letters were next to my name on the athlete list. DNF.

I mourned my DNF for a couple of days, then immediately jumped back into the game and set out to settle the score. I signed up for another Ironman. This time I was going to race a different course. Ironman Maryland seemed like a more suitable course, as it is flat, flat and more flat. But the catch is swimming in the Choptank River, and fighting the big headwinds on the bike. My mind was made up and I felt it was destiny to race almost exactly one year later from my DNF in Chattanooga.

As soon as I got my confirmation that I was “in” I was pumped, but as time marched on, I started to doubt myself. This has been one of the hottest summers that I can remember. Living in Florida, and the intense heat paired with super high humidity, was not a good mix for training. It has been brutal to say the least. Fatigue set in early in the months of training, and self-doubt started to take over. Why was I doing this again? When did riding on a road bike for five and six hours become fun? And not to mention running in the intense humidity and heat! 3 am wake up calls to start long rides in the dark while it was cooler got real old really fast.

I missed my family. I missed hanging out with our friends. For the second summer in a row, my life revolved around training. I started to question was it really worth it? To add to this crazy mix, my two younger sons were also training for their big race at USAT Nationals in Ohio. So between taking them to swim team practice at 6 am each day, and shuffling them to their own triathlon training sessions with their coach, I was mess! I am wife and mom first and foremost so my boys lives took center stage ahead of mine.

Training has not been what I envisioned it would be. Finding balance has been tough.

My breaking point came during a training camp in Cambridge, Maryland, the day we were out riding on the bike course. It was brutally hot, more of a dry heat hot. My lips were chapped, I was sucking down water like I have never done before, and I was riding alone. There were others out on the course, but I was a lone dove with the exception of others passing. Much of an Ironman race is mental. I know this and can say I usually have a good handle on this end of things, but on this day, I was literally losing it. Riding along on a long flat road in the middle of nowhere and hearing shot-gun shots going off, having someone fly by you in a truck then chucking coins out at you from the window as they passed, fighting a brutal head wind and being all alone is not my idea of fun. I missed a turn and only realized this when I was almost back to where I started. My 112 mile bike ride was cut short by my mere mistake and I only biked 70 miles of the course.

There is no crying in Ironman, but I cried like there was no tomorrow. I felt as if I was at the threshold of hell. I felt like a failure. I kept thinking to myself, how am I supposed to finish this race when I hadn’t even started yet? It was an awful moment but a pivotal one.

In my moment of questioning it all, a couple of texts came through on my phone. Messages of hope, reminding me how to persevere through the dark place I found myself in. No truer words were spoken by my 14-year-old type one diabetic son. He made me a paper to keep next to my bed, so when I was doubting it all, I only had to look at this:

This boy knows what it’s like to be in a bad place. I feel like he must feel defeated often, living with diabetes, giving himself injections all day long while pricking his finger countless times. Luke does not let diabetes define him, so how can I quit before I have even started? Someone very wise told me this at that moment:

“Suck it up buttercup! You’ve got this. Your body has got this. Get your mind in line. It hurts, it is a gut check but you have this. I know you can, you know you can! Just do it.” 

Another great mantra that I will let you figure out, that another friend reminded me of:

“IOTB!”

This was the day I started believing again. I was hundreds of miles away from my kids, and friends but at this moment, they were there with me, sitting under a shady tree. Sometimes we only need to be reminded of the simple things. I had to go down this dark road to get to this spot where I am today.

I believe I can. I believe I am strong. I believe I am an overcomer.

I simply BELIEVE!

DNF: It Changed My Life

Did. Not. Finish.

Those are some powerful words, than no one really wants to hear. Days and days of setting the alarm clock to awaken me before the chickens even start to think about stirring. Countless hours of brutal training in the Florida heat and not to mention missing out on many family happenings. All of the blood, sweat and tears just to hear those words: “I’m sorry, but we have to take your timing chip from you.” Nothing can prepare you for this moment. The sadness is deep. The pain is real. My DNF was not the end, but only the beginning.

For months I had my sights set on racing the Ironman Chattanooga 140.6 Triathlon Race, the “Choo.” I decided to dedicate my race to my friend Linda, and had been fundraising for the Pulmonary Fibrosis Foundation for TEAM Linda the entire time.

The swim went off without a hitch. The water was crisp, and quite clear. I could not have been more pleased with my swim finish time, and had no real issues to speak of. It truly was a great swim!

The trek through T1 was swift as there were ample volunteers to guide you through the hustle and bustle. I was feeling fabulous and ready to conquer the 116 miles that lied ahead of me. Nothing, and I mean nothing could have prepared me for what was to come next. My nutrition was on the money during training so how was it that at mile 35, nausea reared its ugly head? After all I had 10 months of training for this epic day. My mantra was simple, just keep peddling and keep moving forward. All those fancy quotes I had memorized went out the window at this point. Nothing I took in, whether it was solid or liquid, was helping. That was truly the longest 116 miles of my life!

Cruising into T2 was a welcome sight. If I could just get off this darn bike, get some chicken broth to sip, I might be okay. Before I move on, I must pause and say how amazing the all of the volunteers were! Making my way through T2 and grabbing my special needs changing bag, I was met by an angel, aka a volunteer.  She walked me to the women’s changing tent then ordered me to sit, and proceeded to remove my clothes, shoes, socks, etc., from my bag. She laid everything out in an orderly fashion, and brought me some chicken broth to settle my stomach.  She then, literally, undressed me, and re-dressed me, race belt and all, and equipped me for my run. I seriously don’t know if I would have been capable of doing all that in such a quick manner. My clock was ticking so this was a huge help to me. She was my angel that day!

Now it was time to get down to business. 26.2 miles of running through the streets of Chattanooga, down by the river bed, then up though a very mountainous terrain awaited me. With the nausea at an all time high, I was ready with my new mantra. “I can do all things!”

The first loop of the run was difficult as the nausea was here to stay, but running along the riverbed with the sun setting was spectacular. The mountainous hills were no joke for the second half of the run course. Somehow I managed to make it back down the mountain and across the bridge where my family was waiting. I had been digging deep for 13 plus hours. My tank was running low, and the words from an Ironman official that was waiting for me at the gate on the second loop was “You need to go!” So GO I did! I was not giving up. Dry heaving, blisters, nausea, fatigue, you name it, I had it, but I was not giving up!

Little did I know that I was the very last athlete to be allowed to start the second loop. Running alone, with no one else around you, with only your thoughts to keep you company is quite humbling. At this point the volunteer stations were making strides to tear down. I was the last athlete to pass through their stations. No cheering crowds, no fun sites to take in, just me and the slightly lit roadways leading into the darkness. Keeping with my mantra and putting one foot in front of the other, I kept moving forward. My pace was slowing, I could feel it deep within as if I had a slow leak. I managed to make it to mile 22 when the dreaded golf cart was waiting just ahead. Before the Ironman official even said anything I knew what she was going to say.

” I’m sorry, but we have to take your timing chip from you.”

While I never shed any tears, a flood of emotions came over me at that moment.

I took a leap of faith many months back and I dared to dream.  What most people only dream about, I set out to accomplish. I never gave up. Not only did I push through pain, sweat, nausea, fatigue, and blisters, but most importantly I pushed past all the mental demons that tell you, you can’t do it. I pushed through all the fears I have ever had. I discovered many things about myself I didn’t know existed. I found out who I really am that day.

I am determined. I am strong. I am resilient. I am a warrior. I never give up. I am not broken. I am a survivor.

I am an OVERCOMER!

My Choo journey may have come to an abrupt end at that moment but I decided to not let this DNF define me. I made it through 140 miles which by all other standards is the true distance of an Ironman race. IM Choo was not only 4 miles longer on the bike but our swim time was cut short by 30 minutes right from the start. I have no reason to hang my head. The valuable lessons I learned that day that speak volumes to my kids is simply this.

Never give up! When you are faced with defeat, how you handle yourself in the midst of adversity is a testimony to everyone around you.

When you fall off a horse, you get right back on! So here’s to next years adventures in racing. I don’t have plans to tame the beast in Chattanooga, but to race Ironman Maryland 2016. I am going to finish what I started.