SUFFERFEST 2018: IRONMAN CHATTANOOGA

Finish Line Bliss.

Before launching into this race report, let me say the important things first: I couldn't have done this without the love and support of my darling husband, John Degonia.  He would much prefer that I make a hobby of being thrifty and cleaning house.  Alas, he married the wrong woman!

As I've mentioned before, Heraclitus said that we can't step in the same river twice.  This was especially true this year in Chattanooga since the Tennessee river was flooded and treacherous.  Our usual running route was five feet underwater.  The river was swift, and filled with debris and dangerous bacteria.  Just three days before Ironman Chattanooga began, the swim portion was cancelled.  No swimming in that river.  This year's event was bike and run only.  

Many competitors were disappointed.  I didn't mind.  I loved the swim last year, and had been thrilled with my time.  However, the change in plans allowed us to have a time trial bike start that was exciting.  

Photo by Carol Howie Cherry

The race began well.  The sky cloudy.  The air cool.  I love the beauty of the surrounding Chattanooga mountains, particularly in the morning as the mist rises.

I pushed as hard as I could, and wore no watch.  The question of the day was, Can I go a little faster?  And the answer for the first 60 miles was Yes.  I discovered later that I averaged 19 mph-- a triumph of biblical proportions for me!

The second half of the 116 mile ride was less triumphant as I slowed a bit and couldn't seem to rally.  The hills seemed higher and the sun came out.  I no longer cared about the beautiful scenery.  My fellow racers and I became silent and determined, speaking or pointing only to alert others to road hazards.  

At mile 100, a cyclist sat in the ditch near his bike.  "Need medical?" I asked.  
"Dislocated shoulder," he replied.
Soon after, an ambulance passed on its way to assist.  Later, I saw the same man on the run.  He had his dislocated arm in a makeshift sling and was walking the 26.2 miles to the finish.  I still don't know whether to be amazed or horrified by that level of commitment.  

As I approached transition to begin the marathon, I knew my legs were experiencing a new level of suffering.  My thighs felt like they were being squeezed with a vise.  I hoped for the best as I changed into my running shoes, and began a hot, sunny run.

The worst part of knowing the course is knowing the pain to come.  The Chattanooga run course has one short (two mile?) flat section.  The rest is rolling hills with two or three steep uphills that are nothing if not disheartening.

Cindy and I were all smiles at the finish line.

Unlike last year, however, this year I made a friend who helped get me through the run.  Cindy is in the 55-59 age group, and has been on the Ironman podium more than once now.  She was chasing a Kona slot, and undoubtedly would have found it at this race if not for the excruciating thigh cramps that plagued her throughout the day.  As we ran together, she would say, "You go ahead.  I've got to stop."  A mile or two later, she would say, "Your shadow's back!" And we would run together until her legs cramped again.  Without her company, I undoubtedly would have lost heart and walked.  As it was, we finished within two minutes of one another.  

The finish line in an Ironman is a lifetime away.  As the miles slogged by, I had a revelation.  I realized that pain and fatigue were of no concern and should be ignored.  This is where my Crossfit training and coach Jimmy Birdsong came in.  

The pain and fatigue of Crossfit had taught me well.  As long as the pain is not an injury, you can continue.  Comfort is optional.  Progress is not.  In the second half of the marathon, there is no way to make the pain go away.  Even if I walked, the pain and fatigue would still be present, and walking only prolonged the effort.  So I ran.  

I passed hundreds of walkers, many of them still on their first loop of the 26.2 mile course.  When I felt tired, I ran harder.  Feel sorry for myself?  Heck, No.  I'm going to finish this race.  And though my time looks slow, I averaged one minute per mile faster than last year after having beaten last year's bike time by a full hour.

The Finish Line was Heaven.



























Immediately after the race, I promised my husband not to engage in this crazy behavior ever again.  I'm probably lying.  Already the pain is fading, and I'm wondering what would happen if I added more Crossfit to my schedule.  Maybe my form would hold together a little longer.  Maybe more power in my legs would translate to more speed on race day.  Sorry, Sweetie.  I'm not thrifty.  But you knew that going in.