On May 19 I finished my first Olympic triathlon... with a broken hand. I'm going to try to tell the whole story here but I may get frustrated since it's a big story and I'm typing with one hand. I'll try to be patient. I also want to warn you that there are a million pictures and this is really long.
As I've mentioned before I've been training for this for weeks. It was the SG Triathlon in St. George. The morning of the race I woke up at 4:30 am. I was so nervous. I was dying to wake up Ryan and ask for a blessing but I waited until the alarm went off at 6:20. Until then I was going over my strategies for each of the three events, over and over to make sure I wouldn't forget anything. I'm in no way a competitive athlete, meaning I have no delusions about winning in my age division or anything. My strategies were mostly in regards to pacing myself and remembering to eat and drink so I would have enough energy to just finish the race. My goal was to finish in under 3 1/2 hours but I really thought I could do it in 3 hrs 15 min if I did my best in each event. Just to give you an idea of how not so great this is the top women finished in about 2 hours 15 min. But for me 3:15 would be awesome.
Ryan gave me a blessing right before we left the hotel. He blessed me to have the Spirit with me and to have courage. I held on to that like a lifeline. I really needed to feel brave.
We had to park outside Sand Hollow since the event was taking place in the parking lot of the recreation area. I rode my bike up and Ryan brought my stuff on the shuttle. Here I am heading to the transition area to set up all my stuff.
Autumn and my brother Adam were also doing the Olympic race. Autumn is really inspiring to me. She was the last one to finish in just under 5 hours but her two previous triathlons she wasn't able to complete so this was a big day for her. I love what a good example she is of persistence and determination.
We got in the water to get used to the cold. The night before this same reservoir had 2-3 foot swells with a driving wind. That didn't do much to calm my nerves but the morning of the race everything was perfect. I still felt like there were rocks in my stomach, though.
The swim was an out and back. A half mile out and then back. It was hard to see that last green buoy marking the turnaround. It seemed really far.
I love the camaraderie of a race. This girl was helping me adjust the strap for my wetsuit so I could grab it easily after the swim. Three waves went before ours. The elites and all the men. I was in the 39 and under group for women and then there was the 40 and over and Athena's that were last. I felt like I was starting the race in almost last place. They also started the Sprint triathlon right after the Athena's which was hard for me mentally later in the race when they were finishing before us.
I'm a really strong swimmer and usually have to fight to get past people so I positioned myself at the front of the group.
From the sound of "Start!" I knew I was in trouble. These women were amazing and I was the one who was getting swam over. Also, since it was hard to see where we were going everyone was going everywhere, crisscrossing in front of me. I kept having to stop to get my bearings and change my direction.
By the halfway point things were a lot better and I was swimming comfortably in my own space. I struggled with breathing a little but that's just because my wetsuit chokes me for some reason. I just kept telling myself, only a few more minutes and you're done with it for the rest of the race.
I finished my swim in 36:24. I was anticipating about 32 min. so not bad.
There's always so much to take off and put on in the transition area after the swim. I accidentally put one of my gloves on backwards and had to rip it off and do it again. I was worried that I was wasting too much time and almost ditched the gloves. I was looking around and noticed a lot of other women riding without gloves but I told myself 20 miles is a long way to go with no gloves and I would be happier with them. Looking back I'm so glad I wore those gloves.
I always feel so much better on my bike. There were some women and some men who came flying past me but I knew I was doing my best and tried not to let it get to me. I didn't have their bodies anyway. You just can't compare apples to oranges. Also, it was a beautiful ride and I was feeling really happy, thanks adrenaline.
Now while you enjoy Ryan's lizard pictures I'll tell you how I broke my hand.
My plan was to eat a granola bar just after mile 10 on the bike. The night before as we drove the course I noticed that the road was really bad. It had been paved with that rocky gravel crap that I hate riding on at home because it slows you down and is hard on your hands from the vibration. I still wanted to eat my granola bar so I would have energy for the run but I decided to eat it in pieces. I happened to have a small piece in my right hand as I was coming down a hill. I was going about 20mph and needed to shift gears. Just as I tried to reach my gears I realized it was a bad idea but when I looked up it was too late, my handle bars were totally out of control and I knew I was going to crash.
The next thing I knew I was on the ground on my back. My first thought was to try to sit up. That took a minute while I tried to breathe. The handlebars had knocked me in the stomach. A girl road by and asked if I needed help and I said, no. My next thought was, should I call Ryan and tell him I crashed? I was about as far away in the race as you could get. So I told myself to stand up first and see how I felt and then call Ryan. I stood up and noticed blood dripping down my knee but thought, I'm okay. So I picked up my bike. The chain was off so I tried putting it back on with my left hand but I couldn't do it.
Just then a man road by and asked if I needed help. I told him I couldn't put my chain on. He said he would go get me help but then turned around and came back. He fixed my chain and then my handlebars (that were going the wrong way). I was having a little trouble breathing and told him I felt like I was going to throw up and he said, "that's okay, I threw up on the swim." That would explain why he was behind me on the race. But I was grateful for him. He said he was going to get me help but I told him I wanted to try to keep going. I figured if my bike worked I would try to stay in the race. I thought about the blessing I had that morning and thought if I could have the Spirit with me then He could give me courage and I could keep going.
I actually felt pretty good on my bike and was happy to be moving forward again. At one point a volunteer came up to me and asked if I needed medical attention. That's when I noticed the blood dripping from my fingertips but I told him I thought I would be okay. A few miles later I realized my left hand was numb and that I couldn't grip my left brake. I thought my left hand might be broken and decided not to use it just in case. I also noticed the backs of my arms were burning just before I had a big hill I needed to come down. I admit I cried a little on that hill. For the first time in my life I just wanted to get off my bike.
I finished my bike in 1:28. About 8 min. slower then I would have normally done that type of ride.
When I got into the transition area and took off my left glove I couldn't believe how bad my hand looked. The side was swollen and there was a big green lump on my knuckles. I knew it was broken. I was feeling tired and shaky but I thought, I'll just do the run and get my hand looked at when I'm done. It's not like I need my hand to run. I had a little trouble tying my shoes and putting on my hat but I got my waterbelt on fine and headed off for my 6.2 mile run.
As soon as I saw Ryan I thought, now I can tell him what happened.
But as I got closer and there were so many people I decided not to stop but just tell him really quick that I broke my hand. Again, he looked like he didn't hear me but the people around me sure did and when they looked at me with wide horrified eyes I realized this was not good, running with a broken hand.
I kept going, not knowing I also had blood dripping from the road rash on my arms.
But everyone else could see that dripping blood. I had a lot of people ask if I was okay. At first I said sure and that I would get help in an hour but after a while the panic set in and my answer was No. But I kept going.
The turnaround for the sprint triathlon was a mile and a half up the road. After that there were a lot less people. I couldn't stop thinking about my hand and it was making it really hard to breathe. I tried singing songs in my head to keep my mind off of it and stopped and walked at every aid station to catch my breath and pour water on myself to cool off. Each time I walked it got harder and harder to run again.
Just before mile 3 a woman caught up with me and asked me what happened. I told her I crashed and broke my hand but I didn't want to talk about it. She said okay and began talking, nonstop, about all sorts of things. When I walked she walked with me. At one point I told her she should go and get a better time than what she would get with me. She told me she was going to stay with me because she was worried about me. I couldn't believe my two Good Samaritans. That race meant so much to me after all the training I had done. I couldn't comprehend the sacrifices they made for me over getting their best time. But I don't think I could have finished the race without their help. I am so grateful for them.
Melissa Stratton stayed with me until there was only 1 mile left and she knew I would finish. I had a hard time that last mile but was determined to run into the finish line.
You can see in these two pictures my swollen left hand.
I tried to smile coming into the finish but I was so tired and couldn't seem to get any air into my lungs. I saw Ryan running toward the finish tent and just wanted to collapse into his arms and cry.
My new friend Melissa rallied all her friends and they cheered me across the finish line. I did the run in 1 hr. 13 min. My total finish time was 3:28. Still under my goal of 3:30.
When I got into the finishers' tent my lungs completely closed. Someone was handing me a medal, a cool rag, and a water bottle but all I wanted was to breathe. Then I saw Ryan. He took me by the shoulders and led me straight to the medic tent and said, "Here's the one I was telling you about. Here's my wife and she has a broken hand."
It was over. I had made it. I finished the race. I let myself cry (which was easy with how painful it was getting my road rash cleaned).
The race director let Ryan go get his truck while I was doing the run. He had heard me when I told him I broke my hand. As soon as I finished the race he loaded all my stuff into his truck. When I was able to stand he took me to an Instacare in Hurricane.
My injuries were a lot worse than I had realized. I had two broken bones in my hand, the fourth and fifth metacarpals. I had a hole in my knee and my elbow. I got stitches in one of my fingers and the road rash on my arms was "gruesome" (according to one doctor). I also had huge bruises on my legs, a few sore ribs, and my right shoulder and neck were in pain. But looking back I feel so grateful that my injuries weren't worse. They could have been so much worse.
It's a little overwhelming to think about what I did. I could have stopped. I don't think anyone would have judged me for it if I had. When I decided to keep going it was one step at a time; if I can stand up, if my bike works, if my legs can hold me up. I knew I could get help eventually. I just thought I could hold out a little longer to get that help. And then it was over and I did it.
I hurt so bad the week after the race it was crazy. But even more people came to my rescue. Ryan worked from home, neighbors helped with the baby, Jacque brought dinners, and others offered help. I was most amazed though by my children. When I got home Saturday night the house was spotless, every room was clean. Cameron had made up a game and they all cleaned up for me. They have also been amazing with the baby. I haven't had one complaint about changing her diaper, getting her dressed, feeding her or staying home to babysit.
My heart is full of gratitude for the kindness of others, for those that helped me during and after the race and those that have helped since. My Dad asked what lesson I learned from all of this. The obvious answer is, Don't eat a granola bar while riding your bike. But I think I'm still learning some lessons like I'm stronger than I realize but not strong enough to do everything on my own. I need help and there are people that love me and because of that love they help me, willingly. And I'm grateful.
