August 13, 2012. 10:20 AM

This triathlon season was more serious for me. I needed to get back in the game after a year of being off. I also needed to prove something to myself: I wanted to do the half ironman (70.3) distance more confidently than I did the first time. And somewhere underneath, I wanted to give myself a real chance at getting as good as I could in 8 months while juggling family & work.

The test for me was the Ironman 70.3 in Cebu.

Pre Race

With 2 weeks to go, I wasn’t feeling pressured even if this was the longest race and the one I expected the most from. Sometime in this taper period, I got this quiet peaceful sense that I was ready. It even seemed like the race was already done. I did the hard work in training so it seemed like all I needed to do was show up on race day and have fun.

There was some stress making sure I got all the gear packed and ready to fly. And there were 2 or 3 moments that when someone mentioned “Cebu” I would get this hollow feeling in my gut. But there were no pre-race nerves. In fact I felt like I was in a calm bubble that nothing could burst. Some said it might rain; and I felt ready for that. Some said it might be hot; and I felt was ready for that too. I tried the swim course in the afternoon : the waves were choppy and the current was something I could feel; but I enjoyed the swim and was looking forward to doing 1.9k of it.

The day before, we tried out the bike course. The roads were narrow, some parts were sandy and rough, and the cars were aggressive. I thought, this is like Antipolo & Rizal and if I could ride there, I could ride these roads. And somewhere along the way it hit me: “Tomorrow I get to swim in the beaches of Shangri-La for 1.9k, ride 90k of clear roads in Cebu, and then run 21k. How lucky could I be?” I had this sense of gratitude that I’ve gotten this far — and that was a good place to be in starting the race.

Swim

The waters were calm that Sunday morning but by the gun start at 6:15 am it became a tilapia feeding farm. There were so many of us starting that there was no open water to swim in. I had to shorten my stroke, not kick, and stop now and then so as not to swim over others. I couldn’t veer to the right or left and had no space to move. I got kicked in the jaw and pushed around a couple of times. After 200 meters of that, the pack started to spread out and I found open water.

The course is one loop of 1.9k. So for a long time (maybe 1.2k) you’re swimming straight. This route took us from the left most edge of Shangri-La all the way to the beach front of the next resort then u-turns to go back to the Shang beach. There were corals, schools of fish, and boats on our side cheering us with drums. There were some waves that made us go up and down and I enjoyed that too. In fact I enjoyed every minute of that swim. It was the best swim course, I’ve ever done in a triathlon.

The first time I did a 70.3, I came out at 49 mins. With my training swim times, I expected to come out at 42 minutes. I came out in 37!

Bike

I got on the bike and quickly found my bike legs. For the 15k going out of Shang into the SRP, I took it easy and kept on smiling at the unexpected 15 mins I gained on the swim. My smile disappeared though as I got to the main part of a the bike course — 4 loops of about 15k up and down the SRP.

The loop headed out seemed to be design to capture as much headwind as possible. I felt like I was going slightly uphill through thick air for about 15k. By the end of that first lap, my quads were burning, my upper back was tense, and I knew that wasn’t a good sign. It was a long day and the idea was to stay smooth and relaxed and save all the energy for the run.

Thankfully the way back was blessed with tail wind so we could zoom through that 15k stretch and then suffer through the headwinds again on the 2nd lap. In the last 15k, I knew I spent too much on the bike and couldn’t get it back.

I expected to finish within 3 hours and 30 mins. I got done in 3:15 — one minute longer than my first 70.3. The thought in my head as I ran to transition was: “I”m right on time; but I’ve spent too much energy on the bike. Uh oh.”

Run

The run course was 2 loops of 10k each. I started running easy off the bike and just told myself to relax and keep a smooth & easy pace. Mentally I was cutting up the loop into 5k stretches: 5k going out, 5k back, 5k out again, and then back. But something about the route didn’t feel that way. Or something in my brain wasn’t clicking.

By about 5k into the run, I started feeling fatigue set-in. By 10k, I was mentally holding off negative thoughts. By 15k, there was a sense of despair underneath my conscious thoughts that I was trying to fight off. I would tell myself that I was running a relaxed pace and that I was on my way home. But underneath the surface I wanted to stop & give up. That emotion was like seeing something in the corner of your eye that you know you don’t want to see — you don’t look at it (hoping that it really isn’t there) but you can’t help but pay attention to it.

So in the last 6k it was really damage control mode vs. racing mode. Physically it was hot so I’d cool myself with water. And when that ran out, I’d get ice and put it in my jersey and tri-shorts. My legs were tired and I couldn’t keep my pace, so I’d walk one minute and run two — and then it became walk 2, run 1. Mentally it was a battle between positive self talk and wanting to give up. It felt like I was fortifying a weakening dam against water pressure that was constantly building. The mental and physical fatigue was building up and it was taking a lot from me. I felt that my energy was being drained by tired legs vs. being used for forward momentum. I knew I was on my way to the finish line but it didn’t feel like it — in fact I felt like the run (and my suffering) would never end. I didn’t want to admit it but I was losing heart & the will to fight and keep it together. The big question was how much time did I have before the dam broke.

It didn’t feel good or satisfying or even heroic but I fought it as long as I could with whatever I could come up with. And something about that (and the 8 month journey of getting to Cebu) seemed to connect me to everyone else on the run course that day — those I knew and especially those who wore my team’s colors. Some I touched on the shoulder and some I pointed to as I put my hand on my chest. We had maybe 2 seconds as we passed each other and I wanted to say so many things that I couldn’t find the right words for then: “You’ve got a lot of heart. And your determination inspires me to keep on going too. This course is tough but we’re in it together, doing it together. I feel what you’re going through now & in the long road of training we took getting here. And because you do, I do too. And because I can, so can you. And for you and me, at this point, it’s all about heart.” So without the words, I tapped my hand to my chest and pointed.

Finish

In the last kilometer, from entering Shang and winding around to get to the finish shoot, I found myself running. My right calf was cramping and everything just hurt; but after swimming 1.9k, biking 90k, running 21k, going through 8 months of building and 13 weeks of focused training, I finally crossed the finish line at 6:35:59. I was five minutes off my projected “long” time and 1:12:00 faster than my first Ironman 70.3.

When people asked me how it was, I said “It was the hardest thing I’ve had to do in my life.” and that I wasn’t sure if I’d do it again.

Looking back now, I did it. I dedicated 8 months, early mornings, and a lot of energy to get here and I got here with just enough to cross the line at a decent time on a tough course. I got as good as I got with the time that I had. And I can honestly say that for the first time in the past 10 years I’ve been doing this, this is the best I’ve been at this sport — not just physically but even mentally.

But that day, there was no emotional satisfaction in crossing the finish line. I was glad it was over but I wasn’t happy. I was just relieved. Looking back now, it was because of the suffering & how I dealt with it. I didn’t get past it and overcome it and get to that point beyond the pain where the suffering is embraced & transformed. I fought & denied the sense of despair as much as I could; and had just enough time to cross the line before breaking down.

Right now, as I write, I know this is still teaching me something — and that is probably another post for another time. But the end of this story happens about an hour after the finish. As I cooled off and got my things together, I got this text:

“Thank you… Every time I saw you, I was motivated to go on by your hand signals… It was all heart for me today… I realized I was doing this for my children … I never want them to ever give up … and then you made that hand gesture.”

My body and my mind may have given up but my heart seems to have had enough to give that day. And that is enough for me.