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And sometimes the bear gets you.
The 2008 Nautica NYC Triathlon is over, capping a ridiculously busy, and ultimately frustrating weekend for me. Sadly, it didn’t go even remotely the way I wanted it to, resulting in my not participating in the Tri at all, but picking my bike up and walking it home at 5am with a 101 degree fever.
Friday morning started off early, as my mornings do. Was called in at the last second to do a spot on Fox Business, which went surprisingly well – one of the best segments I’ve ever done on the show to date!
The day continued with me in meetings, more meetings, then a quick run to JFK Airport to get my Biometrics done for the new Global Entry Program. No more lines at immigration for me!
Headed home, I changed and got ready for the Nautica NYC Triathlon Chipotle Underwear Run – The kickoff to the Triathlon. 1.8 miles in my underwear, surrounded by 500 other people, all in their underwear. Talk abut a hot, steamy mess – But completed, and a lot of fun, with an extra pair of boxers and a t-shirt to show for it.
(Me and NYC Fly Grl, in our underwear.)
Getting home, I showered and jumped into bed, for Saturday morning was the NYRR Race for the Park, back at Central Park. This was a fun one – only four miles, and I knew I wasn’t going to race it for speed, what with the triathlon coming up the next day. Figured it’d be a nice, easy run.
At about mile two, I remembered that I don’t know HOW to do a nice, easy run. Hence my results. I was relatively satisfied with my 8:32 per mile pace, until I was able to check the results on line, and determine that my 8:32 pace put me solidly LAST within the members of my running team that ran the race. And while I know I shouldn’t care about that, and just run for the pleasure of running, you know me better than that. That’s not my forte now, is it? If you know the secret to just running for the pleasure of running, I’d love to know what it is. Please share.
So I ran from the park back home, showered, and headed over the New York Hilton, where I was volunteering with the members of my Triathlon team at the NYC Tri Expo. I guess I wasn’t thinking too clearly when I volunteered to wear the Mascot outfit at the expo. Two hours in that, and I’d dropped a good ten pounds of water weight, easy.
Getting out of the Expo, I head back to my apartment with my race bag, number, etc., and meet Simeon,a Tandem Master and Skydiving instructor at Skydive Sussex who was staying at my apartment from Jersey to run the race.
I got my bike all together, and Simeon and I walked up to the start, about a mile from my apartment, to drop off our bikes in transition. I started noticing that I was sweating a little more than I normally do (which is a ton to begin with) but assumed it was just from the heat.
After dropping off out bikes, I headed downtown to pop in at a quick birthday party celebration for a friend. I didn’t plan on staying long, and I didn’t – was home by 8:30, and in bed by 9:30, since we had to wake up at 3:45am to get to the start.
That’s where the fun began.
At around 1am, I woke up, covered in sweat (and the AC was on to begin with) and feeling… just… I dunno… I’ve always called it “grippy.” It’s like, your legs kind of feel like you’re being tickled, but not in a good way. That feeling is usually the precursor to “Damn it, something’s up,” and 1am was no different. By 2:30am, I was up every twenty minutes or so, with bodily function misfires that I have no need to repeat here, for your sake.
By 3am, I had a fever of 101.7.
I fell back asleep on Aleve and Imodium, and when the alarm went off at 3:45, I decided to get dressed and head to the race start. If nothing else, I could turn around and head home with my bike, which was already there, if I decided I couldn’t do it.
About a half-mile in, Simeon looked at me and said, “you know, you don’t look that great.” My HRM was clocking around 115, 120 – and this was a simple walk to the start. I was sweating like a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, and this was just the walk to the start.
By the time I got to the transition area to start setting up, I knew there was no way.
I found a race marshal, explained that I had to bail out, and they couldn’t have been nicer, they helped me get my bike, I walked out of the transition area, and started the walk home.
It was the longest. Walk. Of my life.
I’ve never dropped out of a race before. It was not a fun experience. It was quite humbling, depressing, DAMN frustrating, and about 15 or so other “ings.”
Between my last-place-team finish on Saturday, and then this on Sunday, this wasn’t my weekend, by any stretch of the imagination. I guess I take comfort, though, that dropping out of a race happens to everyone, even the best in the world…
So now what? Well, I’ve still got my Half-Ironman in Arkansas in August, and my ticket is booked, and I’m still planning on competing. I’ve never done a Half-Ironman before, so I don’t know what to expect. I guess I’d be satisfied with what, anything under seven hours?
So chalk up this weekend to… I dunno… To a weekend. It happens. Life goes on. It just wasn’t my time, that’s all.