Mental Chatter For The Win

Today’s edition is a bit different… I’m sharing my experience leading up to and competing in Ironman 70.3 last week.

So many of you have been curious and supportive about my racing and I not only want to celebrate with you, I also want to be honest about my own struggles with my inner critic and the mental chatter that was plaguing me.

So consider today a “hey, coaches, they’re just like us” confessional!  :) 

Here we go...

I spent the last 9 days in Hawaii with my family.  The reason for our trip?  Ironman 70.3 Hawaii.  I’d planned to do the race last year, but, well, last year was last year, so off we went for a June 5, 2021 race.

The days leading up to the race I had a palpable level of stress and a lot of mental chatter.

My first day on the island, I did an ocean water swim.  An important thing to know about this is I’m not a born swimmer.  I’m slow, and that’s not a humble statement.  Literally one of the last people out of the water every time.

Well, I was nervous about waves, sharks, and you know, all those things that suck about swimming in a body of water that isn’t a pool.

Monday morning I went out and I killed it!  The sun was on my back, the water was warm and calm, and it was like swimming in a fish tank.  My pace was incredible!  30 seconds faster per 100 yards than I’d ever done.  YES!  I was on cloud 9 - I was gonna kill it in my race!

Tuesday I went for a short run.  I’ve been battling a calf injury and had been nervous for how I’d do on race day.  It was hot, humid, and my run was glorious!

So by Tuesday afternoon, and after a few mai tais, I was PUMPED for my upcoming race.

Wednesday morning came and everything changed.  

I went for an open water swim, again, to help me build confidence.  It was windy and the waves and chop on the water were legit.  I panicked.  I did half the distance I’d planned for that workout, got back to the shore after muscling and struggling through currents, waves, and drinking way more salt water than I would’ve liked.

My heart sank when I saw my pace.  Nearly a full minute slower per 100 yards than what I’d done just two days before.  Uh oh.  And for these races, you have a limited time to complete the swim course.  If you don’t, you’re not allowed to continue the race.

The mental chatter that started Wednesday morning:

• I can’t do this.

• I’m not going to make it.

• What if I don’t finish it fast enough?

• I’m going to be so embarrassed because everyone knows I’m doing this race, what if I can’t do it?

My heart rate and stress started to rise.  I went back to the hotel room and told my husband about my swim.  He tried reassuring me and it was falling on deaf ears.

I spent the rest of the day in my own head.  It was like a constant current of worry running through me.  I even thought about withdrawing from the race.

Then, while sitting at the pool having a mai tai, I stopped myself.  I literally said out loud, “what if I can?”  

I shifted from thinking “if I’m able to do this swim..” to “when I’m done with this swim.”  The stress started to lower when I shifted to assumptive words.

Thursday morning I went out for another swim.  Part of me was clearly glutton for punishment, another part of me needed to restore confidence.

It was windy, it was choppy, but it wasn’t as bad as the previous day’s experience.  

If I could have put my thoughts on a loud speaker during that swim, you would’ve heard this:

• Settle in 

• Don’t stop

• You’re doing it!

• Hell yes!

• As long as you keep moving, forward is a pace.

• By any means necessary, just keep moving.

It was then I adopted my mantra from this race: By any means necessary, just keep moving.

I spent the rest of Thursday and Friday saying that out loud.  By any means necessary, just keep moving.

Saturday morning arrived.  It was race day.  Go time.

I left my husband and son quietly sleeping and I went downstairs.  I sat calmly eating my breakfast while nervous energy pumped through me.  

I was surrounded by my people.  Endurance athletes doing what they love.  Humans setting out to achieve goals.  Men and women challenging themselves on one of the hardest courses available.

The national anthem was sung beautifully and I tried to hide my tears as I soaked in the views of Pauoa Bay at 6:15am.  As the first waves of swimmers got into the water, I just kept my mantra on repeat: by any means necessary.

More than an hour later, my age group hit the water and it began.

The swim out of the bay was relatively smooth, turning left things got choppy, and by the time I was coming back on the swim course, things were just down right hard.  Waves had picked up and I couldn’t spot the buoys to see where the hell I was supposed to be going.

But I didn’t panic.

I didn’t stop.

By any means necessary, I kept swimming.  1 hour and 1 minute later, I got back to the beach.  I’d made it in time and I could continue my race!  

Little did I know that the swim would turn out to be the least of my worries for the day.

I got onto my bike and by mile 6 was facing the toughest headwinds I’ve ever experienced.  On parts of the road where I should have been upwards of 28-30 mph, I was struggling to hit 15-16mph, the winds were oppressive.

Around the 32 mile mark (of a 56 mile ride), I saw the scariest bike accident I’ve ever witnessed.  A cross wind gusted out of nowhere and sent a woman cartwheeling off her bike and off the road.  

After slamming on my breaks to make sure she was alive and to get a medical van, I got going and I was jittery and fighting tears the rest of the ride.  Every time I experienced a gust from the side, panic rushed over me as I felt my bike pushed by the wind.

By any means necessary, just keep moving.

My mantra kept coming up throughout that ride.  I took things more slowly and cautiously than I ever have, but I finished the bike.

Then began a 3 loop hilly run.  It was hot.  It was miserable.  I’ve never a) walked so much of a half marathon and b) seen so many people walking.  I focused on staying hydrated, cool, and aware of my mental chatter.

Negative thoughts weren’t going to get me to my goal.  I kept controlling what I could control and that was my mental stamina, keeping my feet moving no matter the pace, and ensuring I was hydrated.

After 7 hours and 2 minutes, I crossed the finish line.  

It was my most challenging race by far.  I was more than 30 minutes slower than I anticipated, and I finished.

My mental chatter mattered.  The perspective I decided to hold, mattered.

We get to choose what voices we listen to.  We get to choose the perspective we hold.  We all have different endurance events we’re facing in our own lives, notice your chatter, notice your perspective, and choose what will serve you.