Three weeks from today is the Ironman World Championships in St. George, Utah. It’s crazy how fast the months and months of high volume training—most of it in the dead of winter in New England—have ticked by. The last few weeks before an Ironman event always feature a steady decline in volume, and with that, an increase in the amount of headspace I have to detach from the training grind and reflect on how I feel about my prep and the race itself. This post is about those thoughts.
For some context, Jim and I traveled to St. George last weekend for our final big race simulation (a 112-mile ride on the bike course and 13.1-mile run on the run course on Day 1, and another 13.1-mile run on Day 2). A full recap of that event is a story for another blog post, but in a nutshell, it was a really tough day. We battled extreme environmental conditions (heat, sun, wind, climbing, altitude) and some unexpected logistical challenges with navigation and road closures. The day hit an especially low point when we started the long highway descent from Veyo and encountered headwinds and crosswinds that shook my bike and made me feel like I was going to flip over. We then entered a construction zone that routed all of the cars in the right lane onto the shoulder we were riding on, and we were immediately surrounded with impatient drivers trying to pass us with no room.
At this point, my heart rate was skyrocketing despite going downhill, and I started to struggle to breathe. Within minutes, I realized I was actually having a panic attack. I was able to pull over into some bushes and get off the road, but I then spent 15 minutes hyperventilating, sobbing, and trying not to throw up. Jim eventually got me to calm down, but our day was essentially over at that point. We soft-pedaled back into town and skipped the Snow Canyon climb, then immediately began to feel heat stroke coming on in the 90F temps once we started our run. We turned around after a few miles and called it.
While scary, the whole experience wouldn’t have been all that bad if it were a fluke—a minor deviation from my maximally consistent approach to training. Unfortunately, that hasn’t entirely been the case. Since last weekend, I have started to feel the same panic symptoms set in during many of my workouts. Breathing faster for perfectly normal reasons (like intervals, even when swimming or running) freaks me out. Cars and winds make it worse, and I am not comfortable at all in the aero position on my bike because I can’t have my hands on the brakes. Worst of all, earlier this week we found out some devastating news that has made it hard to want to bike at all: on the same day as our race simulation, two cyclists riding in the bike lane on the St. George course were killed by someone driving on drugs about an hour after we had passed the spot they were hit.
I’ve been trying to process how I feel about returning to St. George to race. Truthfully, I’m not exactly sure what triggered these changes in my mindset. Winds, heat, traffic, elevation, and big volume rides can certainly be stressful, but I’ve experienced all of those things before. As Jim remarked, “We’ve done a lot of crazy shit, so it’s interesting that this was the first time I’ve seen you crack.” Ultimately, I think it’s a combination of environmental factors and a deeper realization that this race is going to be harder than any race I’ve ever done before. Some of the goals I started dreaming about while riding in the Vermont pain cave in February may not be realistic on this course. Even making it to the finish line in one piece—both physically and mentally—will be a challenge. After all of the hard work that has gone into prepping for this race, that’s a scary thought.
Even so, being open about how I am feeling has helped. My network of friends, family, and my endurance crew has been so supportive. Here are five mantras that my people have shared in just the past week that have pushed me out the door for those final sessions:
Our bodies like to be alive and have great protection mechanisms, so this is a good sign that everything is working properly.
If it’s hard for you (i.e. heat, wind, hills, etc.), it’s hard for everyone.
Be gentle, and give yourself grace.
The hay is in the barn.
If you need to, talk to someone.
I’m not sure how the next few weeks will feel, but I’m determined to keep getting out there. I’m excited to keep you posted on how this final chapter of the St. George journey goes. And I’m taking recs for more mantras. :)
–Coach Katie