Cheryls Iseberg's Ironman CDA report

Race Report – Cheryl Iseberg
2007 Ironman CDA

An amazing summer it has been. I originally had not planned on writing a race report for Ironman CDA in June. There are a lot of reasons why I didn’t want to write one and a lot of reasons why I changed my mind.

Let me explain. The days leading up to CDA seem like they are a blur. I wish sometimes I had a video camera with me to record these moments and a lot of times I figure sharing them seems like me annoying you all with my accounts of craziness in this sport. I sometimes wonder if perhaps my audience is tired of my story and thus hitting the delete key?

So, why the reluctance to write about the race? I guess because for every action there is a reaction right? (Note Newton’s 3rd law which is the byline of my new running shoes J ). First there was the opportunity that presented in CDA to qualify for Kona (Action), then a training packed week in Maui with my friend and kick ass age-grouper Patty Swedberg (Reaction). We raised money for ALS and its continued research for medicines to help folks with this disease (Action). We ended up raising over $5800 and finished top 10 in fundraisers in CDA (Reaction). Then a month short of the race, Jon Blais whom I was raising money in honor of his fight with ALS passed away. I am not sure how to categorize this but it is a big part of both action and reaction to this race.

With all the preparation for CDA and my extra confidence boost from my week with Patty and a great race in Hawaii 3 weeks before, I felt like this was going to be my race. A breakthrough would happen. I would be faster on the swim, I had prepared for the heat, the bike would be the bike but I am a better bike handler (use your best Paul Sherwin Tour de France Commentator – South African accent) but the run would be faster, I would finish one hour inside my best time. This would be the “race of my life” (you have to do that with a German accent because that is my favorite quote from an Ironman Champion ) and I would qualify for Kona and I would race in Jon’s honor on triathlon’s sacred ground in the Islands that I love and the land that I feel “connected” to.

In the end CDA was a great race but one I don’t think I “connected” with. There really is no reason why but maybe this happens? Is it possible to train like a dog and like you have never done before, prepare, and feel good and then walk away going “huh, what was that all about?” “What up with that?” (Use whatever accent you need here)

The weather was unusually cool. Instead of 100 degrees during the day to slowly kill us off to a marathon of torture, it was cool and windy. The start swim temperature was only 48 degrees. The chop and wind was up. It didn’t seem like CDA. Walking toward the swim start with my 2200 friends and our seal like wetsuits, an announcement is made. The kayakers are seeing large swells the further out you get, you have an option if you don’t want to swim they will start a duathlon around 9:30. My first thought is “are you kidding me- how bad is out there?” The weird thing is no one actually said anything in line. There wasn’t this “wow, that’s weird” or “are you still going to swim?” Nothing. It was silence. Maybe we were all in our own personal state of shock. Not swim on this day you have prepared for for so long? Don’t swim because it is dangerous? Danger – is this going to be dangerous? Ok, I signed up for an Ironman but not to drown.

I kept to myself not saying anything. I then remember my mentor Patty saying to line up inside the buoy line. I see that she is there and we have time for a quick hug and kiss. Other Raise The Bar athletes are there, Phil and Nancy.

The gun goes off and I am cautious, no need to make this into a feeding frenzy. I am sporting a new wetsuit that doesn’t appear to quite fit right. For some reason, there is an excessive amount of water around my stomach. I feel sluggish but head out. Then the swells begin. Not my normal Maui ocean swells that you can time and get a rhythm on for breathing and counting strokes. No this swell is wind related and comes and goes at its own free will. There are people being pulled from the water. People throwing up everywhere. People hyperventilating. I try to remain calm and I stop to try to help a few others find their nerve to continue but in the end there is nothing I can do other then tell them to remain calm and to keep moving.

I make the turn on the swim and I am sure they will call the race – just too dangerous. I know the front of the pack is probably fine but the mid-pack racers and below are struggling. With 1000 first timers in the race, my mind races to Ironman Utah several years back and the drowning of an athlete in the swim and the swells in the water. I hope that this does not happen on this day. Finally, it is over and it is my worse swim at this distance. Taking me over 10 minutes longer then normal. I know that there is nothing I could have changed but it still sucks to see the time.

The race course for the bike changed and it was challenging with more hills and more turns but other then that it still is a 112 miles of mind numbing (ok ass numbing) at times riding. Your mind wanders but usually you just try to stay focused on eating, hydrating, watching the road, and moving forward. I am entertained by a soap opera star from Bogota. There was a group of athletes that came from Bogota to race and included was a soap opera star. Richardo Rubio. Don’t you love that name? With that name he should be a soap opera star. Richardo and I enjoy pulling ahead and dropping each other and then finding each other again. Each time he pulls up with the same deep voice “hello, it is me, Richardo” (insert best Spanish accent here).

I finish my bike and I feel I gave it my best. I wished for a better time but think I did alright. Time to change into my running shorts and out for a jog around the lake two times. For the first time, I think I gained weight during the race. My nutrition plan went well but I feel like I weigh 10 pounds more. My competition for Kona ends up passing me right before the run so I know I am in trouble. I know from my friend, Google, that she is indeed faster then I am. About mile 8 I hear my name “Cheryl, Cheryl, you look goooooood – this isn’t your first rodeo is it?” I have no I idea who this woman is but it makes me feel great. I do look good don’t I?

I then realize the dream is probably over for Kona for this race but I still can have a good run. The weather is mild for the first 20 miles but when the sun went down around mile 21 I start to get cold and that freaked me out. It is horrible feeling to be cold at the end of a race and I have never experienced this. They are handing out space blankets to the runners just to keep warm. I thought about taking one but knew that if I did I would start to walk. Everyone with blankets was walking. I keep moving and thankfully, I know the route and I know I am in the home stretch.

Another run down the chute and panic sets in. I know I must log roll across the finish for that is what Jon did in 2005 in Kona. It is what all of us ALS Warriors do to honor him. I think of Jon and know he was with me during this entire race and keeping me safe. I had never really thought about what it would take to stop after 140 miles, lower yourself to the ground, then try to roll, and then try to get it up. I pray I don’t screw it up and take out the finish line banner, but with much grace, I am able to pull it off and still look good. Although, there was at least one person watching online who can be quoted as saying “she’s down” thinking I had collapsed at the finish.

For the 3rd time, I am an Ironman.

A long shower to try and warm up and we head back to watch the finish at midnight. It starts to pour rain and the wind picks up. Horrible conditions but thankfully something I face under the cover of a tent and not as an athlete on this day.

So, a few weeks after the race, Rob asks me where my race report is, I say I am not doing one, nothing to write about. He keeps on me telling me people have asked about it. I go to the Seafair triathlon a few weeks later and many Raise the Bar athletes tell me how much they enjoy reading my reports. I try to rethink why I don’t want to write about this race. What did this race have on me?

In the end, I think it is a sense of disappointment in me and not wanting to show that side of me in the sport I love. I know it is not about finishing times and medals but your own best effort on that day. I do know that I did put in my best effort on that day and the reality is it wasn’t what I thought I “could” do. Maybe I had raised the bar (no pun intended) too much? Maybe I didn’t make the progress I thought? Maybe I just needed to be forever happy with 14 hour Ironman’s?

But now 5 weeks post CDA and 3 weeks pre Ironman Canada. The picture is clearer. No, there is nothing wrong with feeling sad or disappointed about something you wanted so badly and not achieving your goals. Yes, it is ok to figure out that disappointment is ok and it doesn’t mean you're not making progress. Yes, it is ok to feel like the best you gave on that day didn’t come close to what you had dreamed about for weeks. Yes, it is ok to say that someone beat me outright on something I wanted but in the end someone else was the better racer on that day.

Yes, it is ok to feel like you let yourself down and maybe your friends and family but you know that in your heart that’s not true. Once you figure out it is ok to feel disappointed the quicker you can move forward and move on. We all face disappointment and sometimes it hits us harder then we thought it would.

I think back to a quote in Lance Armstrong’s first book “It’s not about the Bike”.

"At what point do you let go of not dying? Maybe I haven't entirely and maybe I don't want to.
What I didn’t' and couldn’t address at the time was the prospect of life. Once you figure out you're going to live, you have to decide how to, and that's not an uncomplicated matter.
For me, the best use of myself has been to race in the Tour de France, the most grueling sporting event in the world.
The lesson of illness - what it teaches is this: pain is temporary Quitting last forever. To me, just finishing the Tour De France is a demonstration of survival. The arduousness of the race, the sheer unreasonableness of the job, the circumnavigation of an entire country on a bicycle. "

What will happen in Canada on Sunday, August 26th, I don’t know but I do know this. It truly is a journey to our destination of dreams and sometimes the bumps in the road get us to take a road we had not anticipated. I am off to Ironman Canada with words of wisdom from my coach, race number 179 which was Jon’s race number from Kona, and my suitcase of courage (again, best South African Paul Sherwin accent) to deal with the arduousness of the race, the sheer unreasonableness of the job in competing in 2 Ironman races in 8 weeks. For this action in CDA (or lack of action) there is a reaction for Canada and I will have a friend along for the journey in Jon Blais. Should be a great race.

Livestrong,
Cheryl