When training and/or racing have been removed, what could be left to write about on a blog designed for adventures in and around triathlon? Maybe things such as weight gain, sleep loss, blood pressure, loss of fitness, alcohol consumption or middle of night reality checks of always changing mental strengths. Maybe the consideration of never getting back to racing at all or at least to a level that would be considered a success. These are the things I'm left with as I sit typing with one hand only because over the past year, in large part, one or the other arms have been in a sling and under rehabilitation. Currently my dominate hand is affected and because of this a one finger hunt and peck with what I might call my "Dumb Hand", much like almost everything in life right now because of it, takes twice as long.
Friends and acquaintances alike have asked: "How's your training? What's your next race?" To which I refuse clarifications, telling them that I'm focusing on other things in life right now, which is technically true despite a few serious omissions. Watching their confusion is selfishly far easier then hearing the insidious answer that lies between my ears. "I have been injured. It is unclear at this point but I am hoping to get back to training and racing again soon. So I don't know, maybe I will get back to racing at some point this year."
The competitive void has left me moody, frustrated and at times down right surly. Just ask Bootsy, she always speaks in honest truths instead of my oft-chosen convenient or half truths.
I am, of course, one who has decided to devote myself to a lifestyle that involves semi-regular bouts with injury. A place where you could be asked to pay dearly for the answers of your day. So being laid up as a result of multiple surgeries to both shoulders and forced by the sports gods into a bit of self-reflection could seem almost - natural, all in the effort to move past in any type of timely matter.
Training and racing provide me with more then simple fitness, they have taught me to better maintain focus on long term goals while finding safety in a world of constant risk and uncertainty. They have taught me to be mentally quiet. Training and racing have been my chosen avenue to mute emotion, while removing stimuli. They have taught me to simplify. Physical exhaustion can muffle doubt as well as certain types of fear. Whereas injury can muffle joy, inspiration and honest inward reflection. After years of finding protection from certain aspects of ones self as well as the outside world, living this lifestyle, it has felt safe. It at times has felt, what I would consider beautiful. But once removed I have felt somewhat bare. The feeling of lost in a lifestyle where the compass has been removed or at minimum distorted, is something I long to step beyond.
I long to be fit again. Fitness can provide a feeling of joy in my life that without has left me with the feeling of an unfulfilled journey. There have been times where I have felt as though I am merely a spectator in my own life. The frustration isn't in the fact that I can't achieve goals and dreams, it lies in the fact that I can't start chasing them. So maybe this is just part of my given journey, but it's a journey I must once again - guide.
I was struck by the contrast when comparing the heaviness expressed in the above portion with the lighter more goal focused arena where growth is the resounding theme, replacing suppression by circumstance.
There came a point when I realized I wanted a comeback to an iron distance start line - in the past. But how can this happen? There is only one way to do this and that would be to simply begin. Begin what I would consider a return to what was once my normalcy.
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While running the 2004 addition of the Portland Marathon, our first marathon, Bootsy and I were passed by a man juggling. That's right we were passed by a juggler - juggling - while running a marathon. Now juggling is impressive in an of itself but this guy ran past us at the 18th mile all while holding a conversation with a young lady which I could only surmise was his girlfriend. I hope I’m painting the picture for you here. If I were juggling while walking within the comfort of my own home, trust that all my mental faculties would be focused on not falling over something. But for this guy, the most difficult thing he was doing, was the thing he was taking for granted. I doubt I could walk and talk with the grace he exhibited while running and juggling. And the great thing is that he wasn’t trying to impress anyone. He was just trying to get to the same place as the rest of us that October day - the finish line. Perhaps he had run many marathons in the past and was looking for a new challenge. Or maybe he had lost a bet during an adult beverage fueled stop on the way home from a training run with his local running group. Or maybe it was a penitence to be payed for a girlfriend mess up. I don't know. Does it really matter?
Imagine being stressed. Now imagine being stressed while on a balance beam. See, suddenly you’re forced to put your stress aside and concentrate on keeping your teeth.
Sometimes the spectacular is cloaked in normalcy. For instance, the women I love and continue to date (I love the fact we still date) is the cutest and most adorable in the times when she isn’t trying to be. There’s something about someone just being that is fun to watch. Endearing even.
So if normalcy is what I seek, then let us begin today, but I must remind myself that NOBODY gets through life unscathed. Nobody. Everyone has or will have a condition, disease, accident, injury or event in their lives that knocks them around a bit and sends their life spinning. It’s one of the prices we pay for the gift of living.
I should probably consider the word "normal" - "Don’t be normal. Be better than normal!" I haven’t been put into a box because of this; I just broken out of it. Armed with a unique perspective on how quickly life can change and how blessed we are to still be alive, the survivors of injury and like conditions/situations get to learn what many don’t learn until far later in life.
In a lot of ways frozen is a good thing. It helps in the preservation of food sources, it sparks new life by resetting plant growth for spring time and it can assist in recovery. It also makes for a pretty darn cute movie.
So lets talk about it, that word - Frozen. But what we should talk about are the things that I like about frozen.
Pizza - But only when Bootsie is not home or should I say I only have/get frozen pizza when she's not home. I like it best when placed on a pizza stone and cooked in the Traeger. So a paticular type of cooked pizza is what I like I guess. Hmmm... Could that mean I don't like frozen pizza - in the true sense of the word? But what I like is a Tombstone, Digiorno or Titino's brought to temperature, where the cheese has melted to a gooey mess and the pepperoni sizzles as if to call my name. But could this mean I don't like "frozen" pizza at all? I ponder.
Daiquiris- Plural. Raspberry please. But only when in season. Best consumed in the presences of loved ones while perched on the deck at a Priest Lake cabin after a long summer's day of doing next to nothing at all in an effort to hold down the dock as the world passes me by. A time to reflect and enjoy the simplest of things, that although always there, seem to escape my grasp. So maybe it's not the Daiquiris themselves, but maybe I like what they represents in all their frozen wonder.
Popsicles- Who didn't sit under the shade of a backyard evergreen enjoying your favorite flavor or as I knew them, my favorite color. The sticky liquid running down covering my hand to prove it's adhesive power when wiped in the grass and dirt.
Or better yet, running while waving a dime at the beloved Ice Cream Man. His choices endless in the eyes and mind of child.
A Mountain Meadow- I did not grow up engaging in outdoor winter sports other then bombing down a local hill on runner sleds at break neck speeds in an effort to spill other neighborhood kids by grabbing one of their runners from behind and pulling it crosswise. This sending the bundled teen spinning and crashing into what we hoped would be the soft powder lining the majority the chosen city street. Not always the case might I add, the powder that is, the crashes were inevitable. I, a scrawny teen where gravity when applied sent the older heavier sledders down the frozen streets at a much greater speed. But I'm not bitter. Yeah Yeah - I'm getting to the mountain meadow part but first I find it necessary to exercise a few childhood demons.
As I aged I would be introduced to winter mountain sports such as downhill snow skiing. Where a frozen slope is not my favorite by the way, again preferring powder. Winter mountain sports are phenomenal. I have spent many winters carving mountain slopes across the Northwest and Western Canada but when introduced to cross county skiing this is where I found serenity.
When cross country skiing in the backwoods and mountains in the Pacific Northwest it is inevitable that you will come upon a frozen meadow as you silently slide your way across the trails of a mountainside. It is here that I like to stop, to enjoy the beauty the good Lord provides and to sit in silences as nature plays out in front of me. Maybe a distant bird, deer or in this area, a moose are the only others enjoying the beauty. Them, not knowing they are part of the beauty. Me, the one granted the opportunity to share.
Panties - Yes that's right - panties - frozen. But only after an entire drawer of panties have been placed in the sink, for moisture, then carefully arranged in a colorful bouquet on the windshield of the owners car in the dead of night one mid January in a winter of my college years. Oh she earned it. And yes we showed early the next morning to watch. After readying herself for classes early that Monday morning, she would first curse when she saw it, our Michelangelo in frozen panties, but she then laughed as she knew the anticipation of what was to come was now over. She had been the ring leader in a lake cabin prank earlier that summer. I had chosen to wait for my revenge knowing the anticipation of something, anything, would be greater then the act itself. We stood watching as the owner of the car, a rainbow of panties frozen to her windshield, putting her defroster to the test as the entire apartment complex of college students now on their way to classes streamed past only to wonder. A crescendo of defrosted panties hitting the pavement as she carefully peeled from the windshield. Revenge was mine.
So - Frozen - I would imagine I will be back with things that I don't like - that are frozen.
So June is rapidly approaching and the question has become....what now? Well for the most part, shoulder surgeries. My bike crash and challenges to get to and through Kona have been well documented but where does one go from there? Any other year the plan would have been to get right back on the horse, back to training. But this has not been any other year.
Bootsy and I had decided not to go long this year prior to the end of last season. We would take a break from full iron distance training and focus on just enjoying the training and the shorter 2 to 3 hour workouts instead of the 4 to 7 hour workouts that iron distance training demands. Bootsy had decided to make a run at a B.Q. (Boston marathon qualifier) but outside of that we would do what we enjoy most and that's training for mid distance events. Unfortunately Bootsy spent the better part of the spring injured, so an attempt at a B.Q. will have to wait.
This February 14th. I had surgery to repair a 100% tear of the post labrum in my left shoulder. Yep, happy Valentines Day Honey, you get a drooling, drowsy, narcotic laced bozo for a Valentine this year.
Fast forward six weeks as I'm sitting in my surgeons office receiving the news that I now have a frozen shoulder.
Frozen shoulder, or adhesive capsulitis, causes pain and stiffness in the shoulder. With time, the shoulder's mobility becomes limited and very hard to move.
Frozen shoulder occurs in about 2% of the general population. It most commonly affects people between the ages of 40 and 60, and occurs in women more often than men. So I am beating the odds per say and not in a good way.
Dr. Tycho Kersten has been great to work with through out this process. We worked through the details of a frozen joint as he put it in terms I could grasp. Basically no one knows why joints freeze or as he explained it "Frozen joints are like a big black box. We are not sure what makes up the box but we do know a few pieces that are in there." One of which is heredity.
Mike at B&B Physical Therapy is, in my opinion, one of the best therapists in the region. As we worked to rehab the shoulder post surgery I began to wonder how it was going. In hindsight Mike had begun to foreshadow the possibility of a frozen shoulder. It's not his place to make a diagnosis but it was becoming clear that he had begun to wonder if (or believe) we were headed down that road as he started to introduced me to the concept, explaining what others had gone through when afflicted with the issue.
One of the problems with a frozen joint and PT is you're making the joint mad by stretching it. Because of the discomfort or pain this creates I couldn't get off the narcotics. Six weeks on narcotics is no picnic especially for someone who doesn't like to be on them....at all! I don't like the narcotics. Outside of masking the pain, I don't like how they make me feel. And I most definitely do not like the side affects.
After about 10 days on the narcotic I wanted to be done. I tried to ween myself away from them, going to just Tylenol but I had next to no success. Because of the continued aggravation of the shoulder, my pain levels grew through the weekend and when I walked into Mikes office on Monday at 7:30 a.m. he took one look at me and knew something was wrong.
Chasing pain is a funny game. Once behind on the pain it takes a bit to catch up. And because I wasn't sleeping, my sleep pattern already a bit of a mess do to the fact with this type of surgery you are required to sleep in a recliner (not my favorite) I was on a very slippery slope.
Mike recommended a couple days off from work to try to get the shoulder to calm down and try to get some sleep. He would strongly suggested (or flat out tell me) if I didn't get back on the pain meds and get some sleep he would "suggest" sleeping aids, explaining in no uncertain terms that I simply could not heal without sleep and managing the pain was the only way to do so.
The entire process right out of the gate has been a challenge. The pain and discomfort along with trying to sleep in a recliner have led to a disrupted sleep pattern. Being monumentally tired for extended periods of time can lead to problems with perspective. Perspective is the area in which I have struggled the most.
The effects of sleep on negative mood. - Both correlational and experimental (yes, I work in a building with one of the premier sleep centers in the world. Here researchers actually bring people into a lab setting and keep them up all night for days on end… any volunteers?) evidence suggest that when people are sleep deprived, they feel more irritable, angry and hostile. Sleep loss is also associated with feeling more depressed. In addition, sleep deprivation seems to be associated with greater emotional reactivity, people who suffer from sleep loss are especially likely to react negatively when something doesn’t go well for them. Sleep loss leads to increased negative mood, and decreased ability to regulate anger. From my perspective, anger wasn't my primary issue but negative mood, that's certainly has been.
So what do the folks in the sleep center suggest other then the obvious? Try not to take on frustrating tasks, interact with irritating people, or generally engage in too much social interaction when you are very short on sleep. i.e., NOT a good time to argue with Bootsy about counter tops, style of range or tile color! Oh yeah, we had a major home remodel start February 20th. Not our choice in timing, it just played out that way.
The weight of this entire process has skewed my perspective from time to time. Not in a continues fashion, I have good day mixed with bad. Some of the bad days can be pretty dark, as shown in a following text with Bootsy from that point in time.
Bootsy - "How are you doing?"
My response - "I'm tired. I'm tired of the pain. I'm tired of the house. I'm tired of work. I'm tired of it all. I just feel like I don't want to do this anymore. I'm tired."
This representing what was hopefully one of the darkest days.
A diagnosis of a frozen shoulder sent me home to do nothing, no PT, no nothing. Just wait for the 3 month marker post surgery.
It's been so hard to be still. As an endurance athlete it's exceptionally hard to do so. Endurance athletes have trained themselves to want to go, go, go. But to be still in the fact that I was to go home and do nothing for an additional 6 weeks, except for watching the calendar, this was very challenging.
M.U.A. or Manipulation Under Anesthesia - When the progress in rehabilitation is slow, manipulation under anesthesia can be recommended. This means you are put to sleep with general anesthesia and a nerve block is administered. The doctor then stretches the shoulder joint. The manipulation stretches the shoulder joint capsule and breaks up the scar tissue. In most cases, the manipulation improves motion in the joint faster than allowing nature to take it's course.
This procedure has risks. There is a very slight chance the stretching can injure the network of nerves running to the arm. And there is a risk of fracturing the humerus.
"Family history and racial predilection as markers for genetic association, both of which indicate the presence of a genetic predisposition to frozen shoulder." In other words - it hereditary. So when one falls straight forward off his mountain bike and lands squarely on his chest with both arms outstretched, one not only tears the labrum in his left shoulder, he tears the labrum in his right shoulder as well.
The plan last February was to move forward with the labral repair in the right shoulder as soon as possible. An outline if all went well would have put me in a position to be having that surgery about now. In a perfect world I would have been recovered enough from both shoulders to maybe do Coeur d'Fondo this fall and/or Spokane's half marathon but that's all out the window now.
I asked Dr. Kersten how mentally prepared I should be for the second shoulder to freeze. He said "very". A loose outline for recovery could be three months for the M.U.A. before moving on to the right shoulder. If we were to head back down the same road with the right shoulder as we did with the left then it could be next March before moving past the right shoulder and next September before a return to the pool.
Bootsy and I have booked a trip to Tempe AZ for IMAZ this November. We will volunteer at one of our favorite venues. I had originally planned to sign up for IMAZ 2018 but that race for me is now in question. We will make a game day decision but my mental focus may need to shift to a return to iron distance racing at the 2019 edition of IMAZ instead. Maybe the 2018 IMAZ 70.3? Who knows and in lies the issue.
So have I earned the right to feel blue? Absolutely not! But the fact of the matter is I can get that way from time to times. Ultimately, I am learning to deal with the (chronic) pain and sleep loss with all the things that go along with them. The thing I haven't learned to do is to deal with the affect all of this is having on Bootsy. To watch her suffer in this too, that's what brings me tears. She has been asked to pick up all the slack and to deal with me in my current form, yet through it all she has never mentioned what is going on with her, not once. She has remained focused on my needs, our needs I guess and recovery. But I can see it in her and that's what hurts - a lot.
That little word, those four little letters, for some they can represents a lifetime achievement. For me it's an opportunity to stand in centerfield at the Cathedral that is Yankee Stadium during the seventh game of the World Series, it's my Tour de France, it's my chance to play in the Superbowl. For those in the Ironman community, for the athletes, their families, for their friends, it also represents dedication. A dedication only those who "have some skin in the game" could ever understand. A dedication that comes from a lifestyle choice. A lifestyle that continues to be lived by many who participate at the distance but to have the opportunity to step onto the hollowed ground of Kona, the pinicale of the sport, this is something revered by all.
At the risk of sounding like a Chinese fortune cookie, the fulfillment lies in the journey, not the destination. Enclosed is a mix, a mix of experiences when gathered leads to more then a destination, they constitute a journey. A journey that would eventually lead to Kona and to that little white line on Ali'i Drive, a place where dreams come true. The following is a disjoined group of experiences. Disjointed in the fact that this is how my season has gone and it's O.K. We as the athlete who made up this years addition of the Ironman World Championship all stepped into the blue of the Pacific Ocean with a story or a package if you will. This package contained what each athlete would be able to give on this day. Their stories for the most part already written, it was now time for the final chapter to play out. Ultimately I came to this race as an observer. I knew from Bootsy's past experiences you don't "race" this venue the first time, you lean how to race it - if you're lucky. As you will see I came to experience the day, to stand inside the ropes and to give my very best on this day whatever that would bring.
When I got word July 7th, 2015 that I would be granted a slot to Kona through the Legacy Program I was thrilled, I was elated, I was terrified. I have never chased the qualifying terms of the Legacy Program where in order to qualify one must complete 12 full Ironman branded races. Bootsy and I have continued to race long, again it's a lifestyle and we enjoy the benefits this lifestyle provides.
If there had come a time when I no longer wanted to pursue full Ironman racing even if my number completed had grown to 10, 11 or even 12, I knew I would move away from the distance and still be comfortable with my decision, a decision not to chase 12 or more with the soul purpose of applying for qualification. The enormity of the training and racing needs to fit or it just wouldn't be worth it for me, not even for the opportunity to stand on the stage that decides who's best in the world. The task would just be to large without a 100 percent commitment from myself and from all those around me.
Additional terms of qualification are that you must have completed a full distance Ironman branded race the two years prior to the qualification year and also be signed up for a full during the same calendar year. Which I obviously had done but not without challenges.
Bootsy and I have been blessed with multiple years of more then one full distance Ironman start line. As a matter of fact she has one calendar year where she raced 5 full distance Ironman races. Granted one of those races were Kona but that's a lot to ask of an Age Group athlete who also has a full time job and tries to maintain some semblance of a personal life.
Last year I wasn't interested in multiple full distance races or I only felt compelled to sign up for one, Ironman Coeur d'Alene. IMCDA is our hometown course and first love so I was happy to be back racing on a course that rewards her competitors with a finish on Sherman Avenue, the best finish in all the world outside of Kona itself, in my opinion.
IMCDA met us with what would be the hottest race day temps of any North American race ever staged. It was awful and my race didn't go as planned which left me walking the entire marathon and out on course for 16:23:35. It was a long day for sure but my completing the race, my soldiering on under less then ideal conditions was for one reason and one reason only - it was to complete IMCDA. And to be able to complete it in conditions that are now legendary, well that was icing on the cake. I only realized later if I would have elected to drop out of the race for any one of a multitude of reasons, to DNF, it would have effected my ability to apply for qualification to Kona. It just never crossed my mind that day, but in the end I'm obviously glad I did finish and now for more then one reason.
There's something hypnotic about the climate in Kona; everyday it's sunny and 80 degrees, everyday there are gentle trade winds to take the edge off the humidity, everyday... but at Hawi the winds pick up. The winds come from the northeast, from somewhere in the vastness of the Pacific Ocean. As they travel toward the unprotected chain of islands sitting vulnerable in the huge expanse of water, they pick up power, and speed, and force, finally crashing into the scattered bits of land. These strong trade winds funnel through the major channels between the islands at speeds 5-20 knots faster than the speeds over the open ocean. But the winds do more than whip the sea into a frenzy, they stir the blood and tear at the emotions, thrusting even temperate men into destinies they will never forget. I've always felt drawn to the lands edge to watch the winds come in, as if I were somehow... part of the drama.
May 6th of this year I tweaked my back, a lingering injury. Six week later I had returned to regular training and a full volume on a path that would eventually lead to Kona and her start line.
"The labrum is a piece of fibrocartilage (rubbery tissue) attached to the rim of the shoulder socket that helps keep the ball of the joint in place. When this cartilage is torn, it is called a labral tear. Labral tears may result from injury, or sometimes as part of the aging process."
July 3rd Bootsy and I were spending the holiday weekend at a family cabin on the shores of Priest Lake, ID. It was a recovery week as she had completed Ironman Coeur d'Alene 70.3 the weekend prior. A race I was signed up for but elected to drop out of only because I wasn't sure my back was 100 percent ready for a 70.3 race effort.
Because it was a recovery week Bootsy and I brought our mountain bikes as Priest Lake provides many pristine trails and access roads for riding. A decent on one of these access or logging roads saw me falling off. It was a slow speed crash but not without injury. Initally I thought only my ego had been bruised but I would soon realize it was a bit more. I was left with a broken hand and what is believed to be a labral tear in both shoulders. Not good!
The shoulders haven't been imaged but all the symptoms point to torn labrum and we certainly have treated them as so. Under advise of one of my medical professionals we would wait until after the race to have them imaged. My Doctor understood that I was racing Kona regardless of the injury and I would do what ever it took to get to the start line to the best of my ability. As he stated "It's ONLY a 17 hour race. We should be able to control the symptoms of the injury for a mere 17 hours." Thanks Doc.
As a Legacy athlete in Kona I get it, this is my one and only chance to race. Because of this I wanted to come to the islands earlier then we had the past two times Bootsy raced here. I wanted the opportunity to experience it all so we flew in Monday to get settled in and build up bikes before the official activities of the week began. This would also allow a few more days to acclimate. Hey I need all the help I can get.
When it came time for professional help with my shoulders I choose Dr. P.Z. Pearce. I choose him for more then one reason, I have a past history with him and he is an endurance athlete who has raced in Kona. I was confident that he would understand where I was with the injury and would cut through most of the preliminary "stuff" because after a single key word he would fully understand what we were up against. So after answering a few questions about the injury itself I looked him straight in the face and uttered that one single word - "Kona". The appointment took on a completely different tone from that moment forward. I didn't need to explain that I would be racing no matter what or what October 8th and the 17 hours I would be allotted to complete the Ironman World Championship meant. He already knew so we moved forward to formulate a game plan to get me there. The main emphasis would be P/T in an effort to get back to a level of training that would get me through what we both understood would be a very long race day. I immediately called B&B Physical Therapy to speak with Dr. Mike Lauffer another endurance athlete who "gets it".
As I sat in my car outside of P.Z.'s on the phone with Mikey I took a moment to read the script that Dr. Pearce had written for P/T, it was for thirty visits. The magnitude of the injury began to to hit me. Thirty is a huge number of visits in the short window of time before Kona. I began to wonder - Can this be done? Is my race for all intents and purposes, over?
Being in the aero position on a tri bike is the most efficient position and puts the weight of the body on the skeletal structure, taking it away from being solely supported by the muscular structures. One issue of the aero position is any jarring from the road runs up the skeletal structure of the arms into the shoulders. The muscle asked to support the shoulder when in the aero position is for the most part the rotator cuff. When the rotator cuff begins to fatigue the labrum is asked to support the shoulder. With a labral tear in both shoulders this creates discomfort. To alleviate or reduce the discomfort I would be forced to sit up, this putting me in far less efficient position on the bike.
The purpose of the physical therapy would be to strengthen the rotator cuffs and the entire mechanics of my upper back as well as my core. Mike at B&B put me through a complete regiment of exercises designed to do just this. I was surprised how weak these areas in my back were but Mike assured me the weakness was do primarily to the trauma of the injury. Mike expected them to respond quickly but I worried it was my 50 years on this earth that we would have to work across or in other words they were this weak from the life I have lead and to get to where we needed to be before we even began to entertain the idea of getting in the pool would be monumental.
The Parade of Nations would be our first official activity in Kona. It is organized, all be it loosely. We lined up by nation behind the King Kamehameha's Kona Beach Hotel to stage the parade. The atmosphere is relaxed and very low key. It was an honor to represent my country and to do it with Bootsy by my side, well this was more then I could have ever asked or imagined. As we walked I gave a high five to any outstretched hand I saw, mostly children. This was my first opportunity to look into the eyes of the people who had come to Kona to witness the race and into the wide eyed children as they look upon me as an athlete, an athlete competing in the Ironman World Championship. A pretty defining moment I will admit.
Physical therapy never goes as scripted, right? It's a fluid process that is slow and arduous. A labral tear can be a very deceptive injury. The labrum is designed to keep a very unstable shoulder joint in place. When torn the ball of the joint can slip out or move. Trust me it's obvious when this happens, your body will let you know. When the shoulder is in place and the labrum is riding as designed it's relatively pain free but there are some simple arm motions that allow the shoulder to drop out. As the arm is lifted up and forward from a resting position there is a point where the rotator cuff disengages and the labrum is asked to stabilized the shoulder. It's this motion that can cause my shoulder to drop out. With about 5 weeks to go until the race one of these basic movements caused my left shoulder to fall out and was all fired up. Because of this I was unable to train for a full week while Mike worked to get it to calm down. I couldn't even run, the one discipline that usually is unaffected. To be honest the thought of dropping out of the race was entertained during this week, never spoken of but entertained.
Mike worked his magic eventually getting it to calm down but he offered more then physical support, he also talked me down from the ledge more then once. He made it very clear this was a mere setback and yes it would keep me out of the pool for some additional time but not to worry, we would get to the swimming when the time came.
The best or only way really, to train for iron distance racing is with consistency. Day in and day out getting the job done even if the intensity of some of the workouts aren't perfect, be consistent. I wasn't afforded this "luxury" but this was all part of my journey.
Dig Me Beach is something that must be experienced. It serves as the race swim start and also where pre race swims are staged. Bootsy and I needed to get into the water to not only get a feel for it but to continue to shake off the affects of our travel. As we stepped into the water I took a look around, it was time to engage the race, time to continue my focus on what lie ahead. I had 13 races to lean on but because of the nature of the injury I had no idea what it was going to be like out there for the 2.4 mile swim. Would the shoulders fire up right out of the gate or would my restricted swim stroke get me down the road a bit before this happened? Coming in with almost zero swim fitness, how would this affect me not only in the swim but thought the rest of my day? There were lots of unknown variables for an athlete with the experience of 13 races.
There is a local coffee company and Blue Seventy who set up a boat off the end of the pier to deliver coffee and prizes to whom ever wants to swim out to them. Our plan was to swim out grab some coffee and make our way back, I needed to keep the swim short. As I waited my turn to grab some very hot coffee the natural motion of treading water began to aggravate my left shoulder. Good to know for race day. As we made our way back to shore my right shoulder began to fire up. The right shoulder is "the good shoulder", the left shoulder housing the majority of the issues. This left me a bit shaken I will admit. I practiced floating on my back in the very buoyant salt water, something I wondered if I would have to do on race day in an attempt to rest the shoulders.
Dig Me Beach
Photo by James Richman.
(If you're going to steal photo's, steal them from this guy. James never disappoints!)
O.K. I'm old school. If I were to sprain an ankle while running I want the white athletic tape for support. Athletic taping is the process of applying tape directly to the skin in order to maintain a stable position of bones and muscles during athletic activities. I'm a strap it down kind of guy. I understand the physiology of the support the tape is designed to give. Kinesiology or Kinesio tape doesn't work this way, at all.
Dr. Brain Mather at Spokane Chiropractic & Sports Injury clinic is another health professional who played a key roll in getting me to the start line. Upon "limping" back into his office after the crash he suggested Kinesio tape. I had never looked into Kinesio tape and frankly my ignorance toward the product was mostly because I am old school. Yes I watched the summer Olympics, I saw Kinesio tape on some the athletes and I still didn't educate myself about the tape and how it works but at this point I was ready for snake oil. Not comparing the two here on any level, it's just in reference my desperation.
Brian explained the tape in terms I could grasp, not only how it works but how we would try a few different versions of taping and what each version is designed to do. Let me tell you the stuff really worked for me. My shoulders while on occasion would still slip out the recovery time or the amount of time it would take my shoulders to calm down was greatly reduced.
I would see Dr. Mathers a minimum of once a week to have the tape reapplied and on the last visit before traveling to the islands Bootsy would accompany me to video tape the application as he talked her through the process so she would be able to reapply the tape race week as needed.
Being on the pier on race morning is mesmerizing. There are no guarantees no matter how you prepare, no matter how much you want it that it will be O.K. I have always believed the best relief for worry is exercise. At 6:50 a.m., for the men, it was time to do just that.
I had no idea what to expect when it came to the swim. As Bootsy and I made our way to the water we were lucky to be able to do it together. I was comfortable with getting in near the back of the men's pack because that's exactly where I had planned to swim. I walked down the stairs to gaze out over the Pacific and engage my day, a day I had spent so many hours dreaming what this moment might be like. Before putting on my goggles and moving toward deeper water I took a moment, I looked at the masses lining the pier and entire bay, I looked at my fellow competitors, I stood there for a brief moment as a fan as I tried to soak it all in.
I had the opportunity to walk into the water with friend and 6 time Kona participant Roger Thompson. I mentioned I planned to swim in the back and he recommend I start to the left. It would be out of the traffic of the men's swim start and there is less current over there. Swimming to the left would also leave me out of the way of the women's race as they started 20 minutes behind us but I knew they were coming.
I started in the very back and because I purposely got to the start line later then most I didn't have to tread water much. When the gun fired I let the group go and looked for open water. I was not interested in contact thinking it was best to avoid a swimming "scrum" and take the longer wider route. I stayed as far left as the volunteers would let me getting chased back toward center more then once. I swam alone with the immortal words of Al Trautwig playing in my head: "You are in Hawaii! And you are in the Ironman!"
As I approached the catamaran which serves as the turning point on the far end of the swim course I hadn't been caught by the lead women. I tried to stay wide but the volunteers set a narrow course at the corners. I made one last check over my right should to be sure not to cut anyone off. As I did so I was met with a wall of pink caps, the lead women were on me and in great numbers. There couldn't have been a worse spot to get caught by the best swimmers in the women's field so I swam out into the kayaks to stay out of the way explaining to more then one volunteer that I was there in an effort to stay out of the way of the large packs for women as they moved through.
At about the 3/4 mark in the swim there was a kayak making a effort to narrow the athletes so I moved over to where I was uncomfortable with how close I was to the buoys. Immediately there was someone tapping on my feet and not just a little. It seem this athlete was doing it on purpose so I tried to move to my left to let her through but this athlete had moved up on my hip and left shoulder. I pulled my left arm under my chest and delayed for a stroke or two to let her pass when I realized it was Bootsy. She was just saying hello and that she was glad I was doing well. Knowing Bootsy was in the water can help the mind but it doesn't help the body as I was getting early signals of how my body might perform on this day. So far, so good.
As a whole the swim was uneventful and my shoulders had fatigued but with minimal discomfort. Pre race goal was to simply make the cutoff of 2:20 but I would have been thrilled with anything under 2 hours. I exited the water at 1:34 and change. It was a good start to the day.
I made my way through town on the bike then up and back on the Kuakini highway. My family had stationed themselves at the corner of the highway and Palani. It's a slow turn up Palani so I was able not only to see them but to say thank you even if they couldn't hear me. I most definitely heard them and all their kind words of support.
My parents, sister and aunt had made their way to the island to watch me race. Their support not only on race day is something I have leaned on in the past and would continue to do though out the day. When things get tough and I am in need of inspiration these are people I can draw from. On the corner of Palani stood my aunt, a person who has suffered two heart attacks, survived colon cancer and who has suffered more then one stroke but there she stood watching. She was watching people lucky enough to have dreams so she could watch those dreams come true.
At miles 20 to 25 I was having bit of a low spot with my nutrition as the negative thoughts began to creep in. I focused on the fact that it was only about 20 miles before I would make the turn to Hawi where I would be able to get out of the aero position and begin to sit up as my shoulders the were starting to ache. At this point I elected to start pain meds knowing the shoulder pain was going to be part of the rest of my day.
After making the turn up to Hawi the wind coming from my left or from the coastline would quickly shift to directly from my right or downhill toward the coastline. These winds were the stronger winds. I watched other athletes ahead of me to know when and where to expect any next large wind gusts. I also watch the fog line on the right side of the road. The fog line for the most part is cracked. The areas where the cars weren't continually driving over the line, grass would grow through the cracks. By watching the line I could tell the sections where the wind gusts were strong and continues forcing the cars over and off the line allowing the grass to grow. So grass growing in the fog line meant a heavy cross wind and I would prepare for it.
The turnaround at Hawi is followed by a mad dash back to the bottom at Kawaihea. There were spots with heavy cross winds so I would take a look around to make sure there weren't other athletes in the direct vicinity. I trust my bike handling skills but I may not trust yours.
Making the turn back onto the Queen K and the winds were kicking hard from the coast or from my right. These winds were stiff and buffeting. I did my best to stay in aero but by this point my left shoulder was pretty fired up and the buffeting of the wind put pressure on the shoulder and because of this it was pretty painful. I had been prescribed some pain relief that wouldn't affect my liver and the transfer of sodium so I had some on board but I will admit the pain was growing.
I have been lucky in the fact that I have never had to deal with chronic pain and it's affects both mentally and physically but this pain was starting to wear on me.
Being forced to sit up and out of aero position in the face of these strong winds certainly was costing me time but by this point it was the best I could do. As the pain grew so did my nausea. As my nausea grew my nutrition plan began to slip. With about 5 miles to go, my nausea finally brought me to a point where I had to pull over to relieve myself on all nutrition, nutrition I was trying to get down in preparation to head out on the marathon. Of course my pulling over happens on the finish line side of the energy lab where there were plenty of athletes in the later part of their marathon. This couldn't have happened out on the lonely stretches of the Queen K.
When running your intestines are in motion and more susceptible to stress. On the bike your intestines are pretty stable. Stable intestines and getting sick, what will the run bring? Will I be able to hold anything down? If things are starting to shutdown there would be no "gutting it out". Can I get this far and not be able to finish? I had no idea but I was fully prepared to find out.
I took my time in T-2 sipping sports drink to test my gut before the stress of the run. I always carry gummy bears on the run. They are straight sugar that can be either chewed or just sucked on. They work for me but the heat of the day had melted them into one large clump engulfing all other products contained in the zip lock. It was one big gooey mess so I elected to go to plan B. I grabbed some chews that I was unable to get down on the bike and headed out on the run.
Out of T-2 and on the run. I imagined I would walk a bit in an effort to get my gut to settle but the crowd pushes you so I ran. The pain in my shoulders had began to subside and my tummy seemed to be settling.
I was feeling pretty good for the first few miles but I could tell my stop alongside the road earlier had thrown my nutrition for a loop. I went straight to cola and sports drink as I walked the aid stations. I was running way more then I ever thought I would be just a few short miles ago. I saw Bootsy roughly halfway down Ali'i as she headed back towards town. Honestly to be able to stand there on Ali'i Drive and critique if only for a moment how our World Championship races were going, that's a moment I will cherish forever.
My family was waiting at turnaround on Ali'i. It was the first time I was able talk with them, update them. I stood chatting with them for as long as it felt natural and under the circumstances it was quite some time but I didn't care. After all this was part of the reason I came to race, to share in my day, to share in the experience and to be present with the ones who had a large part in getting me to this point in my day and in my journey.
The return to Palani went well. I was moving along fueled by cola and sports drink and surprisingly, the gut was holding up. I walked up Palani to much fan fair from the those seated along the way. Palani is steep so it gave me yet another chance to engage the fans. Although walking, it was a memorable moment.
As I returned to the Queen K this time in the dark, I was slowing and my nutrition was slipping. It's reasonably lonely running out along the Queen K, the crowds that carried me along Ali'i are nonexistent and I was getting sleepy, very sleepy. The sleepiness was a sure sign my sugar was off. I began to struggled with any volume of cola having already consumed all of my chews. I choked down a half gel every third aid station or so but I couldn't shake the sleepiness. I was walking more and more carrying a cup of cola in an effort to boost my sugar.
Turning left at the energy lab it's downhill to the coastline. The Red Bull tent is located near the far end of the course but I had never tried Red Bull in training. At this point not a lot to lose, right? I was searching for anything that would help shake the sleepiness.
The run special needs is located near the turnaround at the energy lab and I had a bag of gummy bears waiting. It was my guess that these bears met the same fate as the bears in T-2 but much to my surprise they were still in tact. I walked out of the energy lab chewing on the supply of sugar the entire way. By the time I made my way back to the Queen K the lights were coming back on and the incessant sleepiness was waning.
It's dark out on the far reaches of the Queen K, I mean really dark. I had to keep your wits about me so not to run into another competitor headed out to the energy lab or one of the many traffic cones. You can't see them and with the cloud cover there was no moonlight to help guide the way.
Right onto Palani - This is the location I had dreamt of. The location where I would allow the culmination of a dream to begin. Again Palani is steep so getting down is simple. I did stop at the last aid station for a final cup of sports drink.
Bootsy finished hours ahead of me just as we hoped she would. This meant she had a good day. She had gone back to the condo to shower and collect the group for a return to the finish line. Much to my surprise my family, my support group, my magnet that had pulled me back to the finish line from the energy lab, they were waiting on the corner at the bottom of Palani. Perfect! It was quiet and it gave me a chance to say thank you. It gave me a chance before all the craziness that is the finish on Ali'i to revel in them, to look into their eyes and to cry. It was a powerful moment.
I could have stood there in that moment forever but there comes a time to run down Ali'i Drive, to hold you head high, to slap every hand possible and to celebrate you, if only for a moment.
Bootsy said they would beat feet and be waiting for me at the finishing shoot. I told her not to worry, I wasn't about to beat feet. I was going to go slow over the final mile. I wanted to cherish every step, to soak in the moment, to live a dream. The dream didn't disappoint, every stride was met with congratulations from the crowd.
Ali'i Drive - So I guess this is where I'm supposed to try to describe the indescribable. The emotion this finish line brings is impossible to conceive. It can't be described other then to say it was everything I hoped it would be and so much more.
High fives from my family.
The darkness helps hide the tears as they stream down my face. There is nobody in front of me, there is no one behind me for as far as the eye can see. I have Ali'i Drive all to myself in the Ironman World Championship. I run on hallowed ground and it's all mine. I let the sights and sounds of Ali'i wash over me as I think about the thousands of miles I trained while no one was watching and what it's like when it feels the whole world is.
I cross the finish as Mike Rielly says those magic words - "Craig Thorsen - You are an Ironman!"
I made it just off the stage before being met by two volunteers. When volunteers ask how you're doing and you reply "I don't know" they take you straight to the med tent. I asked if I could be seated outside the tent and just collect myself for a few minutes. Soon Bootsy arrived but I was feeling like it may be a good idea to lay down, so into the tent I go. The first thing they do is weigh you so they can compare your post race weight to your pre-race weight. Because I had lost more the 5% of my body weight a doctor was called in. A quick diagnoses of nausea plus dizziness and it was time for some vitals. Low blood pressure and an elevated heart rate gets you an IV and some IV Zofran.
I was able to exit the med tent as soon as I felt well enough to take sugar by mouth. So as soon as I was able to choke down a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup they turned me loose. I just wanted to get out of there, I wanted to see my family and I wanted to complete the process which included collecting my finishers medal. The very helpful volunteers kept offering to collect the finisher products for me but I want the experience for myself. A very nice young lady drug me into the King Kamehameha's Kona Beach Hotel where Bootsy and sister where waiting and I would finally be reunited with my family.
It is complete now. Two ends of time are neatly tied...
I realize now that they were right, this was more then just a race. Not only for myself but for all those who support me, those who got me to the start line and through race day. I have been asked, what was the best moment for me and of course it was the finish. Not the finish line itself but after, as I gathered with loved ones. So many different people now standing as one. People that have made so many sacrifices all for a single dream - my dream. We seldom get to dream. But on this single day in this single moment as I stood looking into their eyes, a group of remarkable people gave to me what I needed most. A chance for one day not only to dream, but a chance once again to believe.
