When I woke up last Saturday morning, I was the normal mix of both excitement and nerves. I had been counting the days down to the first race of my season, and on the morning of May 26th it was finally upon me.
I had dialed the taper week in, and did everything I normally do leading up to a race.
But with my focus being short course and speed this year, I was finding that my body was reacting in ways I hadn’t felt before. When I did my pre race run Friday, I felt a pain in my ankle that I hadn’t noticed before. I shook it off as a pre race phantom injury and nothing more.
When I got to the race site Saturday morning, I felt great. I got warmed up and meandered up to the start line. I had some really awesome ladies toeing the line with me, so I was beyond stoked to get out there and race.
The countdown started, and as the group shuffled forward, I was out of the gate like a bat out of hell. I was determined to win overall AG today and my run was where I was going to achieve that.
As I made my way up the first hill out of transition, I was sitting pretty with a significant space between myself and the rest of the ladies. I had no idea what my pace was at, since Mike was challenging me to race without a Garmin this day. That was a whole different feeling in itself, but I must say I eventually enjoyed it! I was listening to my body and pushing it to its actual limits, not following pre conceived notions of what it could do.
But at the last aid station, I grabbed a cup of water to douse myself with since the temps were already at about 90 degrees. And in that moment I stepped, and felt the most unfortunate “ping”. I hobbled the last half mile to T1 to get to my bike, determined to hold my lead.
Stupidly, I thought I could ride the 20 miles and stretch it out a bit and would be 100 percent by the time I got to T2. But the first climb where I had to get up and put weight on my ankle was telling me otherwise.
I am not good at quitting. And I am even worse at giving myself a break when I’m injured.
But this day was different. When I got back into T2, after only getting passed by a handful of women, I was still hell bent on getting out there, passing them, and taking that podium spot.
But as I put my shoes on, and took about 10 steps, I immediately knew that would not be happening. So I then stopped. Turned around. Took my race belt off. And sat down. Because I knew my day was done. If I kept running and pushed myself like I knew I would, the risk for an even more serious injury was inevitable.
I know I made the right call. But as all triathletes know, we are our own worst enemies. I felt everything from disappointment, to shame, to fear, and then finally panic.
What does this mean for my season? Will I be able to race Liberty to qualify to race elites at Lifetime? Am I out all year? Will I be able to race nationals this year??
Luckily for me, my support system is rock solid. My boyfriend consoled me, and gave me the support I needed to not break down that day. And after calling my brother/coach, he made me hopeful that this wasn’t a season ender. And since he had a similar injury a few years back, I was confident that he would steer me in the right direction.
I recently met with an incredible Doctor out of Minneapolis, Dr. Ross Koch, and let me tell you, this guy knows his stuff. We did everything from cupping to acupuncture to grafting in the hour I met with him. I will know after my 2nd visit with him Monday what my future holds, but I’m hopeful that the racing gods are pushing for me to get back out there! Because this rest and recovery thing is not in my wheelhouse.
So no matter what he says Monday, I am going to keep my focus on Nationals in August. Because that is where I am going to leave my mark. And if I need to recover first to get there, you better believe that’s what I’m going to do.
Fingers crossed that I’ll see you all at Liberty!
