As I sit awaiting my America Worst flight to Austin, I continue to ponder the meaning of my Wildflower Half Ironman fiasco from last weekend.
The summary- good swim, OK bike on killer course was punctuated/punctured by a flat at 52 miles. 20 anger-filled minutes later, I fixed the flat and chugged to T2. Half a mile into the run I started cramping and quit. Stopped. Ejected.
Why did I do this? Aren't I the man who gets up at 4:00 am and runs 8 miles, no matter how I feel? Haven't I tied a lot of my identity to my fitness persona? I mean, getting Dean Karnazes to sign my copy of Ultramarathon Man was almost like a visit to Mecca.
My attempts at explanation have included:
I already did a half ironman - this was nothing new.
I didn't train enough, particularly on the bike.
I haven't faced adversity in a race in years, so did not know how to react.
I am weak mentally and faded at the first sign of stress.
Bottom line is I think I need to stop investing so much in these race quests. My love of exercise is for the solo workout, the daily addiction to endorphins, not the gathering of 2,000 like minded people. I do think there is a marathon and ironman in my life soon but I need to also focus on the other important things in life. Like MTV's Inferno.
All I know is I just did situps and pushups in the airport and don't care what anyone thought.
America Worst flight is late - what a shocker.