PIDS

I seem to have escaped the dreaded PIDS - Post Ironman Depression Syndrome. At least so far. Prior to the race I was really concerned about this. You spend nearly a year of your life focused on a single day in time so when it's over, you may find yourself feeling lost without a goal and missing the adrenaline and good feelings race day brought. I'm definitely missing the race environment and the friends I shared it with, and I'm sad it's over, but I'm not depressed at all. In fact, I'm still riding on this incredible high that doesn't seem to be fading. I've had a permanent smile since Sunday morning. It's a great feeling.

I returned to New York and reality this week. I'm still capturing my memories and thoughts from the day and will post an epic race report by the weekend. I've uploaded more than 100 photos to Facebook and still have more to sort through. My bags remain in my dining room unpacked. I have a lot of catching up to do.

My soreness has subsided after a few days of rest and one of the most brutal massages I've ever had. I also got back into the pool and while it felt great to be active, I felt like I was swimming through mud. I can tell I'm fatigued even though I feel good so I'm embracing the rest. After a few sleepless nights I finally slept great last night so I seem to be getting back to normal.

I'm already looking forward to my next Ironman adventure. I'll be toeing the line in Lake Placid in 10 months and then Wisconsin again 7 weeks later. But for now I'm going to continue to bask in the memories from Sunday and focus on recovering my foot. I want to start next season 100% healthy and ready.

A Glimpse of My Day

Just before the swim:



















Coming out of T1, feeling great and ready for the ride of my life:



















First few miles of the bike:



















Riding through beautiful Wisconsin farmland:



















More farmland:



















The beginning of my epic marathon:



















My first walk partner of many throughout the day:



















Jog around Camp Randall Stadium:



















The moment I waited a year and fought nearly 16 hours for:



















Finisher photo:



















Finisher medal:

Incredible Journey

I'm still riding on the high from yesterday. What an unbelievable day. I could barely sleep last night and was back at the expo and in race land as soon as I woke up. I dropped my bike off, bought a massive bag of finisher gear and went to the banquet. I'll be "that girl" wearing head to toe Ironman Wisconsin gear, while writing with my Ironman Wisconsin pen and drinking coffee out of my Ironman Wisconsin mug. Ok, I didn't buy a pen.

I have no regrets, no thoughts about "what if" or how I could or should have done, none of this "it wasn't the race I trained for" even though it wasn't. I'm just happy. Ridiculously and overwhelmingly happy, that I had the chance to even show up at the start and was given the gift of the finish. It was slow, long and painful. If you had told me a year ago that I'd walk a marathon I would have said you were insane. I'm a runner, not a walker, and I quickly realized I don't have the muscles required for walking! I'll never be able to put the emotions and experience into words. I cannot think of a time in my life where I was that overjoyed. People say everything happens for a reason. If I had been overly focused on my 13:30 goal I would have missed the incredible display of humanity, joy, kindness, sadness, defeat, elation and respect I saw out there for nearly 16 hours yesterday. And I was right in the middle of it. The energy transfer from person to person was amazing.

Here is my finish. Kristin Torres, you are an Ironman.




I'll share photos and a full report soon. I want to remember every moment of it.

Ironman

I did it, today I became an Ironman. I had to walk a very painful 22 miles of the marathon, but it was worth it.

KRISTIN TORRES

BIB	AGE	STATE/COUNTRY	PROFESSION
2306	34	BROOKLYN NY USA

SWIM	BIKE	RUN	OVERALL	RANK	DIV.POS.
1:27:43	6:43:51	7:09:29	15:48:17	1990	105

LEG	DISTANCE	PACE	RANK	DIV.POS.
TOTAL SWIM	2.4 mi. (1:27:43)	2:18/100m	1768	91
FIRST BIKE SEGMENT	40 mi. (2:17:51)	17.41 mph
SECOND BIKE SEGMENT	83 mi. (2:34:05)	16.74 mph
FINAL BIKE SEGMENT	112 mi. (1:51:55)	15.55 mph
TOTAL BIKE	112 mi. (6:43:51)	16.64 mph	1608	70
FIRST RUN SEGMENT	6.35 mi. (1:39:19)	15:38/mile
SECOND RUN SEGMENT	13 mi. (1:45:03)	15:47/mile
THIRD RUN SEGMENT	19.23 mi. (1:38:59)	15:53/mile
FINAL RUN SEGMENT	26.2 mi. (2:06:08)	18:05/mile
TOTAL RUN	26.2 mi. (7:09:29)	16:23/mile	1990	105
TRANSITION				TIME
T1: SWIM-TO-BIKE				15:22
T2: BIKE-TO-RUN				11:52

Life Changing Experience

People always say an Ironman is a life changing experience. How can a single day, and a race no less, be so important? I'm not sure I fully understood it until now and they were right. This is a life changing experience regardless of how race day unfolds. I was reminded today how fortunate we are to have the opportunity to get to the start line. After an unbelievable one-year journey that involved flying out here to be part of last year's race before signing up in person, 32 weeks of training that tested every mental and physical limit imaginable, private moments of doubt and hope, friendships built from the strongest common ground you can have with another human being and enough positive energy to fill a lifetime, I have arrived at the start and I'm fortunate. I have no idea what will happen during that 17 hours tomorrow, but I do know I'll enjoy every moment of it.

You can share the final steps of my journey with me at www.ironmanlive.com. I'm athlete #2306. Wish me luck!

Almost Time

With just one day to go I don't have a whole lot to say. I'm getting nervous and starting to reflect a lot, which I guess is normal after thinking about a single day for an entire year. The athlete's dinner and briefing made me feel a bit sad tonight. I would give anything to be here racing the race I worked so hard to prepare for. But things don't always go the way you hoped.

A friend reminded me tonight that I haven't spent my 34 years of life building for this day. This is really just one day in this one year and while it's disappointing, it won't be my last shot at the Ironman distance. I'll have my perfect day eventually.

Tomorrow will be all about preparation and rest. I'll walk and jog for the first time in weeks, sign up for Ironman Wisconsin 2010, drop off my bike and transition bags, and spend the day with my family staying calm and focused. I'm anxious for race day to come so I can see how this story ends.

Tic Toc

As is the case with most important, exciting or highly anticipated life experiences, time is absolutely flying during Ironman week. I got here so early yet feel like it's been a minute and we're already just two days from show time. The official activities kicked off today with the Gatorade practice swim in Lake Monona. I met friends there at 7 and braved the blue-green algae to enjoy an hour in open water. Despite the algae, the swim was great. We spent some time treading to prepare ourselves for the mass start and we took a couple breaks out in the middle of the lake and just bobbed around and chatted. We were the only people on the course playing Marco Polo and chatting. Some of the athletes are just way too serious. I think our approach is much more fun.


After the swim I went through race registration and it was the first thing this week that made me feel sad. I think it's because I was a volunteer there last year and saw how excited and nervous everyone was, and imagined myself in their shoes a year later. I'm excited, but not in the same way I should have been and I know I may not be able to finish. Most of the time I don't even think about it, but the check in process made it feel very real for a moment.

The rest of the day was a blur. I had a long lunch with friends, retrieved my bike from Tribike Transport, dropped it at a bike shop, hit the expo for some IMWI gear (yes, I bought branded gear BEFORE a race... I'm a risk taker) and met more friends for dinner.


If my goal was to come here, experience the Ironman for everything I possibly could, have fun, visit my family and enjoy my friends, I'm hitting it 100%. I'm looking forward to the final two pre-race days before the big day on Sunday.

Swimming
Time - 1:00:00

Every Step I Take

I'm literally saving my steps up for Sunday. I have been off my feet, driving, in the boot and on the crutches, all in a desperate attempt to have saved up the 41,280 steps estimated to complete a marathon. I am feeling good. Really good. But I can't let that cloud my judgment. I'm thrilled to be here. I had dinner with friends last night, lunch with more friends today. Then drinks with the same friends plus new friends this afternoon, and dinner with family tonight. I am feeling surrounded with support and on a perpetual high from being in the vicinity of an Ironman.


They were setting up the finish area tonight and I was overwhelmed when I saw it. I so badly want to be there on Sunday night, and not as a spectator, but as a participant on the course completing my journey. I've decided I will do whatever I can to cross that line without causing future damage. I'm going to be smart, take everything I know and make the decision on race day. If I'm hurting I'll stop, whether that's in T2 or on the run course. This is an incredibly special Ironman, but it isn't the only Ironman. I have to keep that in mind.

Tomorrow starts the official race activity. I'm meeting friends at 7 for the Gatorade swim, 1.2 miles in the foul, blue-green algae infested Lake Monona (yum). Then we're registering, having lunch and some of us are retrieving our bikes from Tribike Transport. More friends are arriving tomorrow night. Sunday will be here before I know it. And I welcome it. I'm ready.

Glimmer of Hope

It’s been 13 days since I woke up and reality as I knew it drastically changed. I spent the first week slightly troubled by the injury, but hopeful I’d rest, ice and be ready to go as planned on race day. But things took a turn for the worse six days ago and I’ve spent that time dealing with the loss of a dream and finding a way to accept it. To say I was devastated would be an understatement. But the way I’ve dealt with this has been a surprise even to me. I’ve learned a lot about myself, and the most important thing is that I’m deeply changed by this journey. I have discovered that while people, activities or events can make me happy, I no longer rely on them for my happiness. I determine my own happiness and if I gained nothing else, I’ve gained a strong sense of self and am content with the path I took and the choices I made.

With only one choice remaining, I have no doubt I’ll be content with whatever I decide. I saw my podiatrist today and looked at the MRI films. There is definitely something wrong with my plantar fascia, but it’s hard to say 100% that it’s torn. As my injury stands today I will recover rather quickly and can resume training and move on to my next challenge. If I attempt to do any portion of the marathon, walking or running, I am risking further injury and longer term damage. There is no guarantee this will happen, but it’s a risk I have to accept in order to make my decision. The possibility of a full rupture is very minimal since it would require me running or walking through tremendous pain that I would hopefully realize was a sign to stop. That said, there is just as good a chance I could get off the bike, feel pretty good and walk the entire race trouble free. There is even a chance I could run/walk it at a very easy pace. Only I will know the right choice and I won’t know it until I get to T2 on race day.

I’ve been touched and overwhelmed by the support I’ve received throughout this ordeal. I think the most comforting thing is knowing I won’t be letting anyone down by not finishing the race. On the flip side, I hope I’m not letting anyone down if I choose to attempt a finish. I realize it might not be the “right” thing to do in many people’s eyes, but at the end of the day, I have to be able to wake up Monday morning and feel good about whatever decision I made. The right one will hopefully be the one that feels best in the moment.

I arrived in Madison tonight and within minutes, received a call from friends to meet up for dinner. It reminded me why this race is so special to me. I've been here less than half a day and am already having fun. That's what this was always supposed to be about.


My dad looked at my training numbers for the year and shared something with me tonight. If you divide them by the Ironman distances, I've already completed the swim 33.51 times, the bike 22.44 times and the run 24.5 times. For that, I'm proud. If all the stars align and the day decides to be kind to me, maybe I'll complete them all one more time.

Enough

I'm exhausted. I'm out of words. I still have no idea what's going on next Sunday and I won't know until Sunday. So I'm taking a mental break from it all while I still can. I slept in, did a little trainer ride and loved it, met up with friends and had another good time, and packed for my trip. I'm going to Long Island tomorrow and off to Madison on Tuesday. I'm ready for this Ironman to be a reality, regardless of what the reality is.

In the spirit of not dwelling on my circumstances, I thought I'd share something that made me laugh today. A year ago the swim was what I feared the most and it barely phases me now, which makes this all that much more entertaining. Enjoy.

Biking (trainer)
Distance - 11.3 miles
Time - 50:00

End of the Bender

After being so diligent with my diet and training for so long, I tossed all the rules out the window and had a much-needed three-day bender of eating and drinking everything I'm not supposed to in total excess. It was lovely. But after another night of over indulging, I woke up this morning and decided it was time to pull myself together and be a little kinder to my body in the spirit of recovery and preparing myself for 2/3 of an Ironman in one week. I slept in, ate incredibly healthy and light, talked to a couple friends to lift my spirits and forced myself to go back to the pool since it's the only training I can safely do at this point. I've gained about three or four pounds and was desperate to move again.

Being in the water felt great. I haven't swam since last Thursday and could feel it, mostly in sloppy form, but it wasn't as bad as expected. I took it easy and used a pull buoy for every other set to give my legs a total rest. I've never used a buoy before and it took some getting used to. The flotation is great, but I don't want to get too reliant on it.

I get to do a short, easy trainer ride tomorrow to get some blood flowing to the foot and loosen up my legs. I can't remember a time I was so excited to be on the trainer. After that I'll do a longer swim and the spend the rest of the day packing for Wisconsin. One of the best things to come of this injury is the total lack of pre-race nerves and anxiety. I haven't felt the slightest bit of stress aside from the stress of my decision.

I still have no idea what September 13 will bring and most likely won't know until I'm in the moment. Until then, I'm going to continue to enjoy my time and I can't wait to soak up as much of the Ironman experience as I possibly can. Ironman is a magical event unlike anything I've ever seen before and if I can be part of 2/3 of it, I'll take it.

Swimming
Distance - 1,500 yards
Time - 30:47

DNF: Do Not Forget

The messages of support I've received over the last few days have been a lifeline. I have been on the verge of giving up and am brought back to reality every time I read one. I received a comment today on my training log that really struck me and I wanted to share it.

Kristin! Your training has been INCREDIBLE up to this point. I've been following your blog for inspiration to do a mere fraction of what you've been getting out to do everyday. While it will be on record as "DNF" we know you were prepared to go all the way and you will be doing one amazing Aquabike with an injury. DNF= Do Not Forget to take care of your body and Do Not Forget how much your preparation is bigger than race day and Do Not Forget how many people have been reading along in the hope that some little bit of your strength rubs of on them... me included!

This was left by an athlete I met while racing the Hyannis Half Marathon, but we've had little contact since. This was incredibly touching as I struggle with the decision to quit something I want more than anything I've ever wanted in my life. But I know it's the right thing to do.

I had a pretty amazing day on a day that could have been easily one of the worst. My friend Debbie, who has been a huge supporter on this journey, invited me out for drinks last night (which were SO needed) and offered to help me get my bike to the city for Tribike Transport. She came over at 10:30 a.m. and we were together for 12 hours, experiencing a range of emotions while trying to make this a "normal" day. We dropped my bike off and then had a fabulous lunch in the West Village before heading to the Upper West Side to pick up my boot. The boot was miraculous. It feels like I'm not stepping on the ground, which I know is dangerous since it makes me want to race.

We hit Bloomingdales for jeans shopping and I stocked up with three new pairs. It's funny how retail therapy can make you feel so good. We then had a drink in the neighborhood before moving onto dinner and more drinks. I didn't do a minute of training but I feel this time off has been valuable. I'd be going out of my mind otherwise.

I don't feel the least bit good about my acceptance and decision to DNF the race. I still hold a shred of hope things will change. How could I not? Somone shared this video with me today and I realized I've always been far more moved by the final finishers than those who finish easily. Is there any less value in crossing the line at midnight than 8 p.m.? Is it even possible? That is the question.

Stages of Grief

Having been delivered this massive blow I've been thrown head first into the stages of grief and they've been somewhat expedited by the extreme circumstances. As I sat here numb last night hearing another human being tell me I couldn't race I was in complete denial. I begged him for options, I rationalized it all I could. I cried. I told him why this was so important to me. And he kept firm to his recommendation that I'm young, I'm healthy and there will be other races for me. I barely slept but was able to forget for a moment, then woke up to the harsh reality that this really happened. I worked from home today to spare my foot the commute and was blissfully busy. It kept my mind in a positive place while I waited for the next update from my podiatrist.

I started to think about alternatives. How could I salvage this experience to be something positive? I thought about doing Ironman Arizona in November after a focused period of rehab. I thought about risking it all and walking the marathon for the glory of the finish, even if it meant I would be in the 16:30 range. I got approval from the race director to walk the marathon in a boot if that's what needs to be. I rearranged every dream, every hope, every aspiration I've had over the last year of my life and I tried to make it work. I cried and cried and cried as I read the 20+ comments left on this blog by people I never knew read it. I was deeply touched to know that you have followed my journey and cared. I received more than 30 comments on my training log today and realized I am incredibly lucky. I have embarked on a journey that has changed my life permanently. I'll never be the same again. And while it isn't ending the way I wanted, I am finding so much positive energy to pull me through this and help me move on.

So if the first stages of grief are denial, pain, anger and bargaining, I feel I expedited my way through them due to the limited time I have. I was truly stunned by this news and spent all day thinking it would change. When I got the bad news a second time I gave up. I met friends for drinks and pretended to be a normal person who's life wasn't being turned upside down. All I can do now is rest, take care of my body and move forward. I'm going through the motions of preparing for my Ironman when in my heart I know it isn't a reality. My reality is a DNF, my first ever, and in the most important thing I've ever committed myself to. It's a hard pill to swallow but I don't feel like I have a choice.

Looking ahead to the future, I will sign up for Ironman Wisconsin 2010 and do it back to back with Lake Placid. It still won't be the race I dreamed of, but Madison and I will have a score to settle and I can't wait another year. I want to skip through the other stages of grief and move immediatly to number 7 - acceptance and hope. The people who have loved me and supported me this year can make that possible. I will never look back and understand why this happened to me, but I'm hoping I can pull myself out of the sadness and begin to focus on the future. That's what the Ironman journey is all about.

Only One Choice Remains: DNS or DNF

At 9:25 this evening I received a phone call that changed my life in a heartbeat. My podiatrist had just spoken to the radiologist about the emergency MRI I had today and the news was as bad as it can get 10 days before an Ironman. My nagging plantar fasciitis turned out to be much more. I have a partial rupture of the plantar fascia, an injury that if worsened could cause permanent damage and end a lot more than just one Ironman dream.

I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. I feel like this is a horrible nightmare that I will wake up from and be able to move on. But it's not. It's reality and it's unfair. I sacrificed so much, worked so hard and dedicated myself to this 100% and for what?

It's a pretty firm diagnosis, but I'll get final word on just how grave it is either late tonight or early tomorrow. The only decision I have yet to make is how to handle the race. I'll still go to be with my friends and family and share in some of the experience, but I have to decide if I will start and do the parts I'm allowed to do before making the hardest choice in the world to voluntarily DNF. The other option is to DNS and just be a spectator.

In my heart I know I want to race. I begged the doctor to let me walk it and I swore I'd never walk an Ironman. I thought there was no point. But when I made that speculation I wasn't at the end of 30 weeks of putting my heart and soul into the preparation so I could never understand being in the shoes of those who've decided to walk. Now that I'm there I can see why they do it. If the doctor said I could without risking permanent damage, I would. But if I'm truly setting myself up for long term rehabilitation and another lost season, then I'll do what I'm told and likely race what I can and then stop.

This is one of the lowest points of my life. Ironman is so much more than a race and those outside of the sport may never understand it. It will take me quite some time to be able to get over this and move on. For now I have to take it one day at a time and try to move toward acceptance.

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

In my ongoing battle with acute plantar fasciitis, PF is winning again as of today. I can't explain it. I get dramatically better and start imagining a good race, then hours later I'm reduced back to barely being able to walk and fighting the pain. I felt great this morning, almost back to normal. I had a very positive talk with my coach about my race plan and he said I wouldn't need to adjust my goal, that I had the fitness and endurance to do the same race I've been working toward. My podiatrist also said I should be on track for a great race. Then sometime after lunch I got up and could barely take a step. It's like everything changed in a matter of hours and I was wishing I had my crutches with me.

I took this photo before my 20 mile run a few weeks ago in new shoes I thought would never stay so white. But they've mostly sat unused since and my podiatrist confirmed today I will be doing very little, if any, running before race day. I'm perfectly fine with that. I'm to the point where I don't care if I run again until after T2, even if that means the run will be a total mystery. I'd rather wait to figure it out than take any chances now.

I am trying so hard to keep my mind in a positive place and not dwell on the pain, the recovery, the lack of recovery, the race, my goals, all of it. But I'm human and that's a very hard thing to do. Plus it's a holiday weekend, a weekend I chose to stay in New York so I could take the time needed to prep for the race. Now this solo weekend is going to give me too much time to do the dwelling I don't want to do. It's going to take a lot of will to stay focused on the good and just let time do its work.

I did an easy hour on the bike tonight to keep the legs loose. It was the first time a ride didn't relieve the pain in my foot so I'm hoping today was just a bad day.

I have found incredible support and advice from friends, family, fellow triathletes, forums, blogs and comments here and it has really kept me going. I'm planning to compile the things that have really struck me and will post it here, but I'm also putting it in my special needs bags in case I'm having a hard time on race day and need a boost. It's all part of my effort to let go of the negative. Perhaps the positive energy will help speed up my recovery as well.

Biking
Distance - 14.11 miles
Time - 1:00:00