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| Arrival in San Juan |
My boyfriend and I flew into San Juan early Friday morning using my Ruster Sports Hen House for the very first time. I was a bit nervous as this was the first time I ever had to take apart and re-build my bike. But, that part went pretty well. My bike made it down to San Juan in one piece (without any nasty oversized/overweight fees I might add) and I was able to assemble it relatively quickly and easily.
When we arrived in San Juan Friday Morning we were able to check our bags at the host hotel for a nominal fee (the angry lady at MY hotel told us that our only option was to leave our bags behind a chair in the unlocked lobby. Ugh, no thanks!). Then we wandered around a bit walking some of the race course, checking out transition, and grabbing a coco frio snack to enjoy while sitting on the edge of a rock overlooking the ocean. Later, after checking into our hotel, we went for a quick swim in the ocean before heading into Old San Juan for dinner at Senor Frogs. The day, in all, was pretty peaceful and nice.
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| Racking my bike in transition (and in a giant red ant pile) |
Saturday was relatively relaxed as well. I built my bike first thing in the morning before heading over to the beach for another warm-up swim. After lunch I took out my bike for a quick (VERY QUICK) ride just to make sure that bike was put together properly. However, riding on the street in Old San Juan was so horribly frightening that I opted to spare my life and instead pay the mechanic 20 bux to check my bike for me. It was well worth the money. We later headed up to rack my bike in transition before heading out to a nice dinner at Mortons. Then, it was early to bed for out 4:45am wake-up call on Sunday Morning.
Race morning was no different than any other. I was slightly nervous and very excited. My swim wave was the first to go off after the pros and I knew that, being a swimmer, this was my chance to really pull ahead from the start. I had my race plan all figured out. I was going to go out hard and really push myself all the way through the run. I was ready…or so I thought.
The Swim:
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| Coming into the swim finish |
T-1:
The run from Swim Exit to Transition was VERY long. I tried not to waste my time pulling off my cap and goggles while running and instead waited until I got to my spot in transition. My transition wasn't fast but wasn't slow.
The Bike:
The first 15(ish) miles of the bike went great. I was averaging around 20-21mph rather comfortably and felt like I could keep up the speed with ease. However, mile after mile, I slowly started to feel a slight pinch in my right thigh. It was sort of a mixture between the feeling of a pinched nerve and a general thigh cramp. I drank some water and ate a package of Chomps. I tried to push through it, telling myself that the cramps would work themselves out.
However, right after I hit the first turn-around, I got a headwind and the pinching feeling started to increase. I debated continuing to push through it versus stopping for a quick minute to give it a quick stretch. I decided that I might be able to continue stronger if I could just stretch it out. I pulled over to the side of the road, unclipped, and bent forward to stretch the back of my leg. It felt good. But, when I stood up, I felt a very sharp, intense pain shoot up the back of my thigh and into my groin. I could barely stand.
A few nearby medics came over to assist me while I watched half my competition breeze by me. I told the medics that I thought I was just cramping and wanted to continue. So, they wrote down my information as I hopped back on my bike and tried to continue. I could barely apply enough downward force to clip back into my pedal. But nevertheless, I was CONVINCED it was just a cramp. So, I continued on…for about another 16 miles.
Between that moment and when I finally decided to pull out of the race, I went through a horrible inner struggle and cried both in pain and in shame most of the way. A few miles from where I finally pulled over, I lost my two seat-mounted water bottle cages. Not only was I cramping (or worse), but now I didn't even have any water to hydrate myself. I knew that was it. Today wasn't going to be my day. So feeling ashamed, and in tears, I pulled over to the side of the road, unclipped, laid down my bike, and waited for assistance.
It was only a few minutes before I had a team of medics surrounding me. They applied ice packs and gave me an IV as I sat in the dirt by the side of the road. The ambulance arrived a few minutes later where I was put on a stretcher and driven back towards transition to the med tent. Much of the next few hours were a sad blur. I was crying because I felt so weak…like I had given up when I might have been able to continue. It did not matter how bad the pain was, or how swollen my muscle felt, I was ashamed of myself.
I was also scared for my boyfriend who was tracking me via his iPhone waiting at transition. I knew he would see that my bike splits stopped registering and would be so worried that I had crashed, or worse. Being in a place where not many people spoke English, it was hard for me to find out whether or not he (as my emergency contact) had been notified. Apparently he hadn't been. But, I was eventually able to get hold of a cell phone in the med tent (somehow remembered his cell number) and he was able to find me, exhausted and scared.
However, right after I hit the first turn-around, I got a headwind and the pinching feeling started to increase. I debated continuing to push through it versus stopping for a quick minute to give it a quick stretch. I decided that I might be able to continue stronger if I could just stretch it out. I pulled over to the side of the road, unclipped, and bent forward to stretch the back of my leg. It felt good. But, when I stood up, I felt a very sharp, intense pain shoot up the back of my thigh and into my groin. I could barely stand.
A few nearby medics came over to assist me while I watched half my competition breeze by me. I told the medics that I thought I was just cramping and wanted to continue. So, they wrote down my information as I hopped back on my bike and tried to continue. I could barely apply enough downward force to clip back into my pedal. But nevertheless, I was CONVINCED it was just a cramp. So, I continued on…for about another 16 miles.
Between that moment and when I finally decided to pull out of the race, I went through a horrible inner struggle and cried both in pain and in shame most of the way. A few miles from where I finally pulled over, I lost my two seat-mounted water bottle cages. Not only was I cramping (or worse), but now I didn't even have any water to hydrate myself. I knew that was it. Today wasn't going to be my day. So feeling ashamed, and in tears, I pulled over to the side of the road, unclipped, laid down my bike, and waited for assistance.
It was only a few minutes before I had a team of medics surrounding me. They applied ice packs and gave me an IV as I sat in the dirt by the side of the road. The ambulance arrived a few minutes later where I was put on a stretcher and driven back towards transition to the med tent. Much of the next few hours were a sad blur. I was crying because I felt so weak…like I had given up when I might have been able to continue. It did not matter how bad the pain was, or how swollen my muscle felt, I was ashamed of myself.
I was also scared for my boyfriend who was tracking me via his iPhone waiting at transition. I knew he would see that my bike splits stopped registering and would be so worried that I had crashed, or worse. Being in a place where not many people spoke English, it was hard for me to find out whether or not he (as my emergency contact) had been notified. Apparently he hadn't been. But, I was eventually able to get hold of a cell phone in the med tent (somehow remembered his cell number) and he was able to find me, exhausted and scared.
Race Aftermath:
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| Hobbling around the Fort in Old San Juan sightseeing |
I'm still pretty disappointed. But, after still waking up to a very swollen thigh three days after the race, I know that I made the right decision to pull out. It was definitely not an easy decision to make. I wanted to continue more than anything. But, after stopping that first time, I knew that my dreams of a medal and Vegas had slipped away. My only options were to continue on to MAYBE finish the race (poorly) and further injuring myself OR to pull out now, recover, and to look forward to the next race. And yes, I'm really really looking forward to the next race...
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| Reflecting |
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