race crash report Stansbury 2011

Yeah. Not what I wanted to report at the end of my racing season. And it was almost entirely my fault. Really, all my fault. Other people COULD have prevented it, but I'm the one who should have.

I slept pretty well last night, got to the race venue on time, and was looking forward to the race. I worried a little the last week that I wasn't rested enough, with this race so close to my other two, but I felt good. Last night I went over to the local running store to get some gus for the race and I found myself being talked into (quite willingly) a pair of triathlon specific shoes. Then I did something that everyone says you are not supposed to do. I decided to wear those shoes on the race the next day. Without socks.

I've been doing triathlon for years, but I am slow to take new steps with gear stuff. I got a heart rate monitor after about a year. I had a GPS for a while, but never liked it. I finally got an aero helmet last year. The one thing I have been holding out on is learning how to race barefoot and keeping my bike shoes clicked into the pedals for faster transitions. I know all the pros use these techniques, but I am not a pro. On the other hand, it seemed silly for me to make myself slower. So I decided that today was the day. If nothing else happened in the race, I was going to focus on learning this new thing and if I was actually slower, that was OK because I was investing in skills for the future. More on the results of this later.

When I got my wetsuit on and headed down to the water, I looked out and stared in astonishment at the buoys. Last year, the swim was a little short. I guess this year, they decided to make up for it. Everyone just stared out at the buoys in astonishment. They were way far out and the course was, indeed, too long. I got into T1 in about 29 minutes, when it usually takes me under 26. I know, 3 minutes isn't a big deal, but it's frustrating when you're trying to measure your improvement and the race is different every year. But that's the way it is. No course is ever the same, even when they try to make it that way. The weather changes, wind, heat, everything can make a huge difference.

Anyway, I decided to push it a little in the swim. I always take it easy and the swim is my warm up for the race. I am very comfortable in the water. But I end up feeling disappointed at the end of the day because I don't come out of the water in the lead, despite the fact that I am originally a swimmer. As I pushed myself, I felt sure that I was actually in the lead on the swim. This has never happened to me before, so it was exhilarating. Everything seemed like it was going to lead to a great day.

I got out of the swim (a little long, but it would be long for everyone) and headed out on my bike, having very few problems with the barefoot method. What I did was just jam my bare feet on top of my bikes in the pedals and then when I got up to speed, I let myself coast for a second, reached down and put my foot in the shoe, then buckled it closed. And then on the other side. You have to be pretty confident to do this on the bike. And no, this is not why I crashed.

I could tell that I was way in the lead because there were no women to be seen. A couple of guys passed me, but I could still see them, so it wasn't like I was being left in the dust. Plus, they were actually 5 minutes behind me. So I felt great. Great, great, great. The course had a lot of turns and some traffic, but it was going fine until I saw the sprint turnaround coming up ahead. I wasn't trying to pass anyone, but a guy was ahead of me and to my right and I slid ahead of him because, I understand now, he was slowing down for the turn. I was confused because I wasn't sure if I was supposed to go straight or not (it was at an intersection). I was waiting for a volunteer to direct me right or left, and that didn't happen. So I crashed into the guy who turned into me. My fault, really.

So, the good thing about this is that now I have a fun story to tell. Plus, of course, I can use this experience in my writing. Just in case you are wondering, what happens when you are about to die (or crash) is not your life passing before your eyes. For me, there was a sense that time was slowing down but mostly that was because every microsecond really mattered. I could see the crash coming and I wanted to stop it, but this is a limitation of reflexes. I could not react soon enough to stop it.

I saw the guy turning into me, and then what seemed like a while later, we crashed. I thought, Now I'm going to die. And then the ground hit me and so did he. I was smashed between the two of them and the pain hit pretty fast, let me tell you. I sat there on the ground for what seemed like two seconds and suddenly there were volunteers around me helping me stand up. I remember being really annoyed with them, because I did not want to stand up. I wanted to lie on the ground and be in pain. Also, I wanted to curse a lot and I wanted my mommy. I wanted bandaids and medical treatment and sympathy. My husband said he's surprised at this because he would have expected the volunteers to want to help me and me to push them out of the way. Instead, I wanted to lie on the ground for a minute or so and they were literally putting my legs over the bar of my bike and getting me back on.

The guy who I crashed into, by the way, stayed by me until I was back on my back, so he was really nice about it. I kept saying I was sorry over and over again. He didn't curse me out, so that seemed pretty nice, too. Afterward I saw him with the EMT and he seemed less nice about it, but he was probably tired by then.

People asked me if I was OK, but they also pushed me to get back on the bike before I was ready. I felt like I was in the Tour de France, minus the medical care on the road and the teammates. And well, a new bike. I had to ride a broken bike, and it was broken. For most of the rest of the bike, my top speed was about 16 mph, when it is normally around 25. That sucked. I had to put my chain back on, so my hands were greasy. There was blood dripping down my leg and I wasn't exactly sure where it came from. I could see scrapes and bruises, but I was pretty there was stuff hidden under my clothes. (And there was.) My elbow was torn to shreds and I kept having to learn on my aerobars, which were soaked in salty sweat, which made my elbow sting.

Also I had to deal with what felt like the humiliation of being passed by people who should have been nowhere near me. I think I must have been passed by every single person in the race on the bike course. The first three women closest to me passed right after I crashed. I realized later that I wasn't first, but had been second. By then, I had fallen way down in the rankings. Why do the numbers matter to me? They do.

Whine, whine, whine.

Yeah, that's how I felt the whole bike. Last year on this same course I had a flat, which was frustrating. This year was supposed to be redemption.


Not.

I didn't know what I could do to fix my bike, if anything, so I just kept going on the stupid thing. (I love my bike in normal circumstances.) Once I got off the bike, it was a huge relief. I put on my new shoes and boy, they were great. I wondered why I hadn't gotten shoes like that years ago. They might not have enough cushioning for an Ironman distance race, but they felt so light, I'm sure I was faster. I hit about a 7:30 mile the first mile and passed a bunch of people who had passed me on the bike. They must have been wondering why I'd been holding back, or thinking I was a really great runner, which I'm not. I kept up that pace through the whole run, and finished in about 47:00, which is great for a 10k in an Olympic race.

Sadly, I was 7th place instead of 2nd or 3rd, which I imagine (possibly incorrectly) I would have earned if I hadn't crashed. I did get 2nd in my age group.

And now what do I want? To sign up for another race today, so I can do my best and prove it to myself and to the world. I want, wait for it, redemption again.

Isn't that the way it always is?