Yep, It's Hard to Quit

Six weeks ago I posted about quitting a ride.  Yesterday I confirmed it.  I quit my ride and it was hard.  This week was the culmination of our year of training, the epic 20/120 weekend.  Translated, it's a 20 mile run on Saturday and a 120 mile bike ride on Sunday.  This is a legendary weekend on our team.  Epic to most people.

Yesterday’s ride was my hardest in five years and I quit, I sagged in.  I’ve only been sagged once from a ride, back in 2008 or so, and that was when I was riding in the dead winter with an older teammate who wasn't accustomed to the frigid temps and hilly ride route.

I planned my nutrition around a 70 mile loop, coming back to the car to refuel, then a 50 mile loop.  The timing of our rides and how we loop back is a very sensitive subject.  I think it's mentally draining to be back at your car, so if I can put that as late in the ride as possible I do.  At the last minute, the coaches changed our ride order.  We did the 50 loop first, then to the cars, and back out for 70 more.  And to top it off, it was really 51 miles and 74 miles.  Let me tell you, knowing my race is 112 miles going 120 is darn difficult.  It's almost frickin' impossible to see you have to go 125! 

After finishing the 50 loop, I felt great.  I was riding with a faster group than I usually do and kept a decent pace.  My legs felt fine.  As we started the second loop, I started to fall apart.  That nagging feeling in my head started to take over.  At about mile 60, I was frustrated.  At mile 65, I needed a kick in the pants to keep going.  I felt the emotion welling up as I was riding, but nothing came out.  I called my husband six time zones away to get some mental support.  I woke him up, and I think I scared him when I started balling.  The tears flowed for a bit and I waved off my teammates as they passed me.  (I apologize for not being more friendly, I was having a meltdown.  Though I was cognizant of you being behind me and it really surprised me.  I thought for sure I was near the back of the pack as usual.)

My wheels were falling off mentally.  I struggled for 30 more miles.  I pushed to the rest stop at mile 95 and gave up.  It was the hardest thing I’ve had to do.  I’m still not sure what happened and today it’s even difficult to think about, but I was a wreck emotionally.  I barely kept it together in the car on the way in.  I chatted with people but kept my thoughts to myself.  Everyone around me was having just as challenging a day. 

At the parking lot I changed and prepared myself for the onslaught of questions about how the ride was.  I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to deal with anyone.  The Team was having a big BBQ celebration in honor of all the Ironmen-to-be.  The coaches go all out on this weekend to make sure we are fed and taken care of.  When I made it down to the pavilion, most of the crowd had left and I was happy to just get my food and sit.  I was a mess and not prepared to be social.  After I finished eating I went back up to my car to clean up and wait for another teammate.

I just sat in my car for a while trying to gather my own thoughts about my performance and keep myself together emotionally.  As the last of the riders came in, my good buddy Sally was still out there.  I jumped in my car with another teammate and we went out on the road to find her.  We found her near dusk about 5 miles from the finish.  Earlier in the day, as I was quitting at mile 95, we waited for her to come through.  Now, nearly three hours later, she was still plugging away at those last 30 miles.  She had a smile on her face and appeared to be happy.  She had been riding for close to 11 hours and went 17 more miles than were necessary for her race.  At that moment, I was so happy for Sally and impressed that she was gutting through a challenging day.  For myself, I was relieved I quit but also disappointed for not going more. 

Looking back today I'm not happy with my performance, but I'm not sure I'd be happy if I kept going either.  I'm not really sure what the right answer is.  I do know now that I don't like this feeling and will do anything I can to avoid it in the future.  I guess I'll just have to take some time to figure out my lesson learned.

Here's the Garmin map of the ride in case you're wondering what 95 miles on a bike looks like.  (I forgot to stop it when I quit so the time is a bit off.)