Last weekend at Lake Minnetonka Triathlon, I had an unexpectedly decent race, placing 3rd in my age group (HARDWARE!), 18/175 females, 104/399 overall, and had the 10th best female swim time. Which is all fanflippintastic! But the happy stats are merely a footnote to a much bigger story. Those demons I referred to . . . well, this race slayed a big one.
At the very crowded Buffalo Triathlon a few weeks back, I had my worst swim experience in years. Being in wave 23 of this extremely crowded event gave me lots of time to feel increasingly anxious about how my SIJ and low back were feeling (very poor). I wasn’t thinking about the swim at all. However, right after starting my goggles got kicked and filled with water. I lost my breath, experiencing an acute case of swamnesia. Not able to find my rhythm for the entire 1/4 mi. course, I basically side-stroked my way in. As a strong swimmer, I was positively bewildered. It was the strangest thing. I went on to finish the race, with a crappy bike portion (I’ve been unable to train with intensity on the bike), but a run segment I was quite proud of. In retrospect, I was disgusted and amused at the swim incident, but not wigged out about it. Yet. Placed 12/72 in my age group (10-year age groups - would have placed 5th in 5-year groups). The best part was my run being 8/72 age group.
I felt a little sore for the next couple of days, nothing unexpected given my injury. But then I started with a new physical therapist with new ideas of how to fix me - a major debacle leaving me with far worse SIJ/back pain than before I walked into her office. As the week wound down the pain escalated, and I reflected on the bad swim. Out of nowhere, I began feeling anxiety about swimming around other people. Pain and fear became oddly linked until pretty soon, whenever I thought of swimming at a triathlon, my heart began pounding and I felt nauseous. It got worse and worse. The more my back hurt, the stronger my anxiety became. I got back in the open water that week for a short swim, and was fine, but it did nothing for the fear of swimming with others.
The weekend and Manitou Sprint Tri were closing in, and now my mind was in as big a pickle as my body was. I was no longer able to imagine triathlon as part of my life. I never wanted to do another event. Again I considered just ditching everything for the summer - not because of injury, but because I couldn’t overcome my sudden horror of swimming in a group. My brain had been hijacked. While I was aware the intensity of my reaction was totally irrational, I was powerless to turn off the switch. I had planned to go to Manitou and just do the swim, but had too much back pain that morning to even consider it. Not going only made the frantic-o-meter shoot higher. The last nail in the coffin, I thought. By not jumping right back on the horse, as it were - the waterhorse - I worried that I had now turned my fear of swimming into an insurmountable phobia. Great.
I fretted and fretted, then fretted some more over this sudden and overwhelming abduction of my desire, ambition and common sense. I could make head nor tail of my brain being so beyond my control - had never experienced anything like it before. By the next weekend, my body was finally ready to handle exercise again. Casting about for a way to restore my mysteriously vaporized confidence, I advertised on the tri message board, looking for open water swim opportunities with other bodies. Step 1: a trip out to Square Lake on a Saturday morning with around 250 pounds and well over 6 feet of HUGE guy. We put in a mile of swimming back and forth, with him making my life as miserable as possible. Each length he changed his tactics - blocking me, swimming into me, grabbing various body parts, destroying my composure and forcing me to restore it - over and over again. It was exhausting, and a bit scary at times, but it helped. I wasn’t ready yet, tho.
I have to say my coach was nothing but patient with me throughout this nightmare. I told him I was considering just forgetting tri for the summer, hoping to come back for du and running season. He refused to let me back down just because I was scared. He sent me long e-mails filled with encouragement and common sense reminders of who I am as an athlete and all that I have accomplished. The most helpful thing he did however, was to send me an e-mail with only this now favorite quote: "The tigers of the mind are more ferocious than the tigers of the forest." Just reading those words through once started quieting my mind.
Step 2: Trekking out to Chanhassen and doing this swim across the lake with a bunch of other triathletes. My nerves were hopped up on the drive out, anticipating swimming in an unfamiliar lake, with unfamiliar people at the typical time one would be at a race location. As we all started swimming that beautiful morning, I did have a few seconds of thinking "I hate this! What am I doing???" But it faded right away and I enjoyed myself again. Being out in the middle of the lake, just swimming along on a sunny morning felt wonderful. Swimming = happy. This seemed to remind my brain that swimming was something I knew how to do, did well and just plain loved. On the return trip across the lake, I purposely put myself behind a bunch of swimmers, hoping to have to fight my way around them. But I just slipped effortlessly between them, soon finding myself alone again in the middle of the lake. Another stride back to myself. I felt more at peace and content than I had been in weeks. I was able to visualize a triathlon swim and remain calm. Still, Step 3 was needed to complete my recovery: Successful swim in an event.
Though I nearly turned tail and ran last weekend several times on the way out to Lake Minnetonka, I ultimately made it out to tri. I was still very nervous standing on the shore, still had thoughts of wanting to never do a triathlon again, wondering why I put myself through such mental acrobatics. But once I started swimming, it all melted away and I enjoyed myself immensely in the water.
Euphoric, I e-mailed my coach to tell him how well things had gone. To be honest, the bike was extremely painful, and I was in a scary amount of back pain by the time I arrived home from the event and for several hours afterward. So I told him I still wasn’t sure I would keep competing this summer. But at least now if a lay off has to happen, I could rest easy, knowing it would be to get my body healthy, not from bailing due to fear. He responded promptly, with great enthusiasm. "You should take so much confidence from this race. The deck was stacked against you and your hit the ball OUT OF THE PARK! What a gamer?!"
"Great job," he said, in closing, "You tamed the tiger today." I certainly did. And THAT is the real story of this race.
At the very crowded Buffalo Triathlon a few weeks back, I had my worst swim experience in years. Being in wave 23 of this extremely crowded event gave me lots of time to feel increasingly anxious about how my SIJ and low back were feeling (very poor). I wasn’t thinking about the swim at all. However, right after starting my goggles got kicked and filled with water. I lost my breath, experiencing an acute case of swamnesia. Not able to find my rhythm for the entire 1/4 mi. course, I basically side-stroked my way in. As a strong swimmer, I was positively bewildered. It was the strangest thing. I went on to finish the race, with a crappy bike portion (I’ve been unable to train with intensity on the bike), but a run segment I was quite proud of. In retrospect, I was disgusted and amused at the swim incident, but not wigged out about it. Yet. Placed 12/72 in my age group (10-year age groups - would have placed 5th in 5-year groups). The best part was my run being 8/72 age group.
I felt a little sore for the next couple of days, nothing unexpected given my injury. But then I started with a new physical therapist with new ideas of how to fix me - a major debacle leaving me with far worse SIJ/back pain than before I walked into her office. As the week wound down the pain escalated, and I reflected on the bad swim. Out of nowhere, I began feeling anxiety about swimming around other people. Pain and fear became oddly linked until pretty soon, whenever I thought of swimming at a triathlon, my heart began pounding and I felt nauseous. It got worse and worse. The more my back hurt, the stronger my anxiety became. I got back in the open water that week for a short swim, and was fine, but it did nothing for the fear of swimming with others.
The weekend and Manitou Sprint Tri were closing in, and now my mind was in as big a pickle as my body was. I was no longer able to imagine triathlon as part of my life. I never wanted to do another event. Again I considered just ditching everything for the summer - not because of injury, but because I couldn’t overcome my sudden horror of swimming in a group. My brain had been hijacked. While I was aware the intensity of my reaction was totally irrational, I was powerless to turn off the switch. I had planned to go to Manitou and just do the swim, but had too much back pain that morning to even consider it. Not going only made the frantic-o-meter shoot higher. The last nail in the coffin, I thought. By not jumping right back on the horse, as it were - the waterhorse - I worried that I had now turned my fear of swimming into an insurmountable phobia. Great.I fretted and fretted, then fretted some more over this sudden and overwhelming abduction of my desire, ambition and common sense. I could make head nor tail of my brain being so beyond my control - had never experienced anything like it before. By the next weekend, my body was finally ready to handle exercise again. Casting about for a way to restore my mysteriously vaporized confidence, I advertised on the tri message board, looking for open water swim opportunities with other bodies. Step 1: a trip out to Square Lake on a Saturday morning with around 250 pounds and well over 6 feet of HUGE guy. We put in a mile of swimming back and forth, with him making my life as miserable as possible. Each length he changed his tactics - blocking me, swimming into me, grabbing various body parts, destroying my composure and forcing me to restore it - over and over again. It was exhausting, and a bit scary at times, but it helped. I wasn’t ready yet, tho.
I have to say my coach was nothing but patient with me throughout this nightmare. I told him I was considering just forgetting tri for the summer, hoping to come back for du and running season. He refused to let me back down just because I was scared. He sent me long e-mails filled with encouragement and common sense reminders of who I am as an athlete and all that I have accomplished. The most helpful thing he did however, was to send me an e-mail with only this now favorite quote: "The tigers of the mind are more ferocious than the tigers of the forest." Just reading those words through once started quieting my mind.
Step 2: Trekking out to Chanhassen and doing this swim across the lake with a bunch of other triathletes. My nerves were hopped up on the drive out, anticipating swimming in an unfamiliar lake, with unfamiliar people at the typical time one would be at a race location. As we all started swimming that beautiful morning, I did have a few seconds of thinking "I hate this! What am I doing???" But it faded right away and I enjoyed myself again. Being out in the middle of the lake, just swimming along on a sunny morning felt wonderful. Swimming = happy. This seemed to remind my brain that swimming was something I knew how to do, did well and just plain loved. On the return trip across the lake, I purposely put myself behind a bunch of swimmers, hoping to have to fight my way around them. But I just slipped effortlessly between them, soon finding myself alone again in the middle of the lake. Another stride back to myself. I felt more at peace and content than I had been in weeks. I was able to visualize a triathlon swim and remain calm. Still, Step 3 was needed to complete my recovery: Successful swim in an event.Though I nearly turned tail and ran last weekend several times on the way out to Lake Minnetonka, I ultimately made it out to tri. I was still very nervous standing on the shore, still had thoughts of wanting to never do a triathlon again, wondering why I put myself through such mental acrobatics. But once I started swimming, it all melted away and I enjoyed myself immensely in the water.
Euphoric, I e-mailed my coach to tell him how well things had gone. To be honest, the bike was extremely painful, and I was in a scary amount of back pain by the time I arrived home from the event and for several hours afterward. So I told him I still wasn’t sure I would keep competing this summer. But at least now if a lay off has to happen, I could rest easy, knowing it would be to get my body healthy, not from bailing due to fear. He responded promptly, with great enthusiasm. "You should take so much confidence from this race. The deck was stacked against you and your hit the ball OUT OF THE PARK! What a gamer?!"
"Great job," he said, in closing, "You tamed the tiger today." I certainly did. And THAT is the real story of this race.
