cont'd

1996 Boston Marathon

Off to Boston again, now with a vengeance. After the previous year’s DNF, and the thrill of running the 100th Boston, I was ready to rock. Unfortunately, the day did not occur as anticipated. Salmonella poisoning, obtained a few days earlier at a dinner party, hampered my best efforts. While I did finish the race this time, and what an incredible high with throngs of people cheering on the sidelines for the entire 26.2 miles, I was severely dehydrated from the GI distress I experienced on the course.

I was sent to the medical tent. Two huge tents were constructed to handle the thousands of athletes competing in the race. I was whisked in, given water, and a blanket. A survey of the surrounds left me impressed by the enormity of the tent (I was in Tent 1) and the efficiency of the staff. People were being carried in after they dropped like flies from hypothermia at the finish. It was organized chaos. However, three people were unsuccessful at starting an IV and it was here that I learned the veins in my right arm reject an IV.

Moral: If the chicken tastes underdone, it probably is. When in doubt, bread and water are much safer bets!

Ironman Hawaii

My first attempt at an Ironman was enlightening. The week-long celebration culminated in a race that tested both physical and mental prowess. With no expectations other than finishing, I paced myself according to what felt right at each section. I did not anticipate finding food reprehensible; in my special needs bag I packed a picnic lunch with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, cookies, and a banana. I naively thought that I would hang out on the aerobars feasting. By the time I reached Hawi, I was reduced to slurping cola and eating gels. Lunch? No way. I tossed the entire bag. The problem with cola, while it is gives a great boost, you must keep drinking it. The caffeine and sugar eventually wreaked havoc on my stomach (about 10 colas and 14 gels). The run was complicated by GI distress, which eventually led to dehydration. I crossed the finish line with tears of joy, euphoric at completing this event. The parties would have to wait though, as I was being escorted to the medical tent.

The Ironman medical tent is an incredible mix of efficiency and kindness. They have ample blankets, liquid, food and a caring staff. Volunteers fly in from all over the world to work the Hawaii medical tent, and their compassion and dedication show. I have now experienced the Ironman medical tent four times, and have never been disappointed with the care I received there.

Moral: Eat the same foods while training that you plan to eat during a race; race day is not the time to experiment with new foods or drinks. Find out ahead of time the race course menu and implement those items into your rides and runs. Always take more food than you think you need, you never know when you drop an energy bar or the course food is not what you expected.

1998 St. Anthony’s

My rookie pro race, and I pulled a truly rookie move. I left my asthma inhaler in the transition area before the run. By the turnaround at 5K I knew I was in trouble, as the oppressive heat combined with the hard running effort left me gasping for air. My pace dropped off on the way to the finish as I struggled to breath, and a sprint to the finish created a full-blown asthma attack.

Another trip to the med tent. Somebody retrieved my inhaler from the transition area, I was given water and cold towels, and eventually my breathing calmed. Nothing like a little excitement to start off the year.

Moral: DO NOT leave important medications behind. Staple them to your bathing suit if necessary. I now have a pouch on my race belt that is big enough for an inhaler and a gel.

Chesapeake Bay Bridge Swim

A 4.4 mile swim across the cold and choppy Chesapeake Bay sounds like a lot of fun, doesn't it?

I swam this race in 1995 and 1996. After the 1996 crossing, I vowed never to swim the race again; it made my shoulder hurt, and it really was not a whole lot of fun. Amazing how in two years you forget the pain and the promises. I signed up for the 1998 race ready to swim fast. Half way through the race I thought to myself, “Wow this feels great, I never felt so good in the open water.” Ten minutes later I though to myself, “Wow, this really hurts. My shoulder hasn’t hurt this much since college. Why am I doing this?” Knowing that finishing was probably not in my best interest, I started to tread water in search of a boat to haul me in. Unsuccessful in my attempt at locating a rescue vessel, I kept swimming. A few hundred yards later, I stopped again and started to tread water. Finally, a kayaker paddled over and asked me what was wrong. I explained my tale of woe, and told him I did not want to finish. Instead of radioing for help, he gave me the thumbs up and said, “Come on you can do it! You're almost there. I'll follow you in.” Ugh! This was not what I wanted to hear. I kept swimming, my shoulder now in excruciating pain. I stopped again and told him I wanted to quit. He said, with a huge smile on his face, “You can see the finish line now.” Sure enough, there it was. I kicked, breastroked, and one armed my way to the end. I ran through the shoot and went straight to the medical tent.

I was given bags of ice, Motrin and a massage. I could not even lift my arm. What a fiasco, especially since I had a race the next weekend. I really won’t ever do that race again and I have plenty of friends that will lynch me if I even talk about trying.

Moral: Know the difference between ok pain and injury pain. I never should have started the race, but once my shoulder began hurting I should have insisted on being pulled out. I did damage that took four weeks to heal.

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