https://youtu.be/Xh9jAD1ofm4
At the end, it states, "It's what you do in the dark that puts you in the light".
I've had that in my head ever since watching the YouTube video. Because it spoke to me, and has helped me lately when I find myself in the dark.
Sometimes that means literally- like 0400 in the middle of winter when the alarm goes off so I can swim before work.
Other times it's when the sun is shining, but my mind has entered the dark zone. If you ever do any kind of endurance sport, you will meet this monster. It sneaks up on you and tries to break you- physically, mentally, and emotionally.
Lately, my workouts have naturally gotten harder, as race season is officially here. And that bitch (let's call her Darky) has been showing up way too often.
"Just stop running. It's hot out and you're tired. You're never gonna finish this workout strong anyway. You missed yesterday's workout and ate ice cream last night. How stupid could you be?"
"The guy next to you in the pool has lapped you like four times, Stephanie. Can't you go any faster?"
"You're gonna have to pedal harder than that, sister, if you want any chance of making the Springfield bike course. Don't you remember all those hills on that course?"
So I've been doing my best to do like Hermoine Granger, and fight back the dark. And for the most part, I've done ok. And then I showed up at my race, took a look at the other athletes around me and was like:
Shit. I am out so out of my league.
Darky was sitting on my shoulder, snickering.
I racked my bike and set up my transition area. The guy who racked next to me was super-nice, and we chatted and eventually helped each other zip up our wetsuits. I looked at the race numbers on the back of his leg and realized he was 52 (they ever-so-humbly display your age in PERMANENT marker on the back of your calf...). Looking around at the others in my area, I realized I was actually one of the younger ones in my race. How inspiring- one lady was 56 and totally built!
As I started the walk to the water, my parents surprised me by showing up! They took the obligatory parent photos of me in my neoprene and I explained to them how the race worked and where they would be able to see me.
And as I turned to look at the water, I prepared myself for the inevitable stomach roll when I see how far I actually have to swim. Darky was silent in anticipation...
But it didn't come. I've been swimming on average well over 2000 meters each swim session, and this was "only" 1000 meters. I knew I could do it. Not sure how fast I could do it, but this was definitely a big step for me. And before I knew it, we were all swimming like hell for the first buoy.
I came out of the water strong. Not fast mind you, but strong none the less. Darky must not have wanted to get in the bacteria-laden water today, which I must admit was a smart move. I got some water in my goggles and my eye is red and irritated.
And there were my parents, cheering me on as I trudged up the hill (why is it ALWAYS up hill from the water to transition?!) and peeled off my wetsuit, snapping pictures along the way.
Now, there is nothing graceful about taking off a wetsuit in a hurry. Like, NOTHING. It's a sit on the ground and tug like hell kind of deal. When you race in actual Ironman-sponsored races, they have volunteers that strip your wetsuit off for you. But I got changed and out on the bike path in under 2 minutes, so I'm not complaining. Luckily, my parents did NOT get a picture of my wetsuit derobing debacle...
The bike. Ever since my two falls, I've been struggling a little mentally. Darky has done a great job in preventing me from pushing too hard in my practices, for fear of another road rash debacle.
But for some reason, I felt no fear today. I stayed steady the entire race, and although I definitely got passed, I in turn was able to pass some people as well. I didn't hold back, and let myself enjoy riding again.
As I rolled back into transition , I was mentally gearing up for the run. It was HOT out, and I was tired. Then I heard a bunch of hooping and hollering- and my name thrown in there somewhere. I turned to see my parents again, and my biking hero Angela with her husband. "Only 4 miles to go now!" My step-dad yelled.
"I can't flip you off in public" I replied.
But I repeated it over and over in my head as I changed shoes and grabbed my hat- "Only 4 miles to go Stephanie. You've got this. You run 11 miles every weekend. Only four miles to go." And that mantra worked.
For about a mile.
I guess Darky had been hiding in my hat in the transition area, because suddenly she was everywhere. I got out to the 2-mile turn-around and wound up chatting with the guy directly behind me between gasps:
" Oh for some shade", I heard him say.
" Yeah, it's about right here that I ask myself why the heck I do this"
"Well, I do this because I'm surviving cancer."
Crap. Seriously? Did I just whine out loud in front of someone who has cancer? I am so going to hell.
I took a moment to tell him how awesome and inspiring that was. He told me he lost a lot of time on the swim because he swam off course drastically- "I was all over the place".
"But you got through it. And here you are, almost done!", I replied.
Then he sped up next to me and told me to draft off of him for awhile, since he'd been behind me the last 1/2 mile. I looked down at the back of his leg to his markings.
He was doing the same distance as me. And was 62-years old. He said encouraging things to every person he passed too. So I put my head down and drafted right behind him for the next mile, even when my body was screaming to stop.
Mile three was split into two sections- go down a big hill, and then come up the big hill. You couldn't even enjoy the downhill part, because you knew you were going to have to come back up- and you watched as almost everyone was ready to die or walking coming the opposite way. Darky was laughing and letting her hair blow in the wind as I came down the hill, slapping high-fives with all the Darky's on the people's shoulders who were trudging back upwards.
Yeah. Darky won that mile. Hands down. I walked and cussed myself for walking. I finally crested the top and told myself that was it- NO MORE WALKING.
What about crawling? That's not walking...
One more mile Stephanie. YOU CAN DO THIS. I locked my brain into counting- kind of like chaff flares when a plane or helicopter is trying to prevent a missile from hitting them. The counting prevents me from thinking about anything but the numbers. Anything to keep Darky at bay.
It worked. I came out of the woods to find my cheering squad right there. That got me to the last turn and I was even able to sprint up the hill (WTH why is the finish uphill?!) across the finish line.
Wait for it.....wait for it....Nope. Not gonna puke. Phew.
I looked down at my watch. I had stopped looking after mile 2, because I was afraid of what it would say.
It said 2:20. Five minutes under my goal and 6 minutes faster than last year at this race. Which is still slow in reality- the next woman in my age group was 2:02, and she is three years older than me! But I finished 11th out of 23 women, and 41st out of 71 racers, both men and women.
I will take that. I will take that and use it when Darky comes to visit on my next workout. Because this is just the beginning of race season. There are plenty more workouts in both the daylight and the night to come.
At the end of July, I will face my goal for this year- to finish an Olympic distance with a stronger finish than last year. I have some work to do- my nutrition needs some tweaking, and I definitely need to get stronger on running when fatigued.
But for today, I shoved Darky into my bag, and zipped it up. I was going to spend the rest of the day in the light, happy to have the opportunity to eat pizza without guilt. Congratulations and great job to all my friends who raced today- any day you cross the finish line is better than not showing up to the start line.
"It's what you do in the dark, that puts you in the light. Rule yourself".....Under Armour
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