I'm in Kona, but it's time to break some bad news

Well, the good news is that I have found myself once again in the beautiful island paradise that is Hawaii with a number to race in the Ironman World Championship. The bad news is that it was finally determined that the nagging foot pain that I've been dealing with for over 3 weeks is, in fact, a stress fracture of the third metatarsal. I had gotten it x-rayed the day after it happened but I had heard that stress fractures often don't actually show up on x-rays until weeks afterward, once they've started to heal.

After my brief attempt at running a couple of weeks ago I kind of had a feeling something else might be up with it aside from the weird soft tissue problems that I'd been told it was. Apparently my pain symptoms weren't really behaving like a stress fracture, so I kept on being told I was fine. I called Carlos, my injury-fix-it wizard who was baffled that I wasn't able to run, so he referred me to a local podiatrist, who fortunately also happens to be one of the best in the business. He poked around at my foot a bit and said he was almost certain it was a stress fracture. Once the x-ray came back, I saw it before he even had to point it out to me. Yep, there it was, a subtle little white line along that middle bone representing the dull pain that wouldn't go away. He gave me this supportive shoe I have to wear around for a few weeks and set me up with another appointment a month from now when we will x-ray again and see if it is healed. Biking and swimming are fine, running is absolutely out of the question.

This was obviously not good news. The appointment was last Wednesday but I didn't feel like sharing it with anyone just yet. Actually, at first I contemplated not mentioning it to anyone at all. The fact of the matter is that this visit was just to rule out something random like neuroma or something, not a recheck on the stress fracture. I could've just acted like I hadn't even bothered. I know, that is not the smartest thing in the world. The first thing I did upon my return home was put on my warm clothes and head out for a 2-and-a-half hour ride. I needed to just go out and do something before I started telling people that my race was ruined. I figured if I took the time to do anything else before, I might never actually do the ride. The last thing I wanted to do was react to this injury the way I did when I hurt my sacroilliac joint a year and a half ago and completely give up and almost make it my mission to get as out of shape as possible.

I spent 150 minutes riding in the cold and feeling sorry for myself. I was near tears on more than one occasion. I didn't actually cry when I found out, because honestly I really kind of knew that was what it was. But I spent that ride thinking about all of the little setbacks I've encountered lately and why I can't seem to hold it together anymore for any significant stretch of time. I was mad at myself for not being able to stay in one piece. I was frustrated that I couldn't make it through an entire season and I wondered if this was just how it was always going to be. If I was just going to go from one injury to the next for the rest of my triathlon career before I finally gave up. It was an insane string of thoughts, but when you get to that point, I think it's just something you have to go through.

I don't know why, but once it was over, I felt a lot better. I no longer saw it as a tragedy, or as a sign of more injuries to come. The fact of the matter is: you want to be a triathlete, these kinds of things are going to happen. I'm sure there are some people out there who have remained miraculously injury-free for years and years, but I don't think that's the norm. The other fact of the matter is that stress fractures heal, and then they are gone. It's not an injury that you have to worry about aggrevating again and again (although certainly it could happen again) The bone grows back together and that's that. It's also bad timing in that I had Ironman Hawaii coming up, but also good timing in that I was going to be taking several weeks off from training afterward anyway, so I will be restarting for next season fresh and new and in exactly the same spot I otherwise might be.

So I'm handling it mentally a lot better than I thought I would. I wasn't quite feeling like Hawaii was going to be a great race for me, honestly. Running wasn't going well, even when I wasn't broken. I was tired. I was way more excited about getting a break and starting fresh for next season. So it's not like I was all geared up and ready to have an amazing race and that was taken away from me. I'd have loved to have had a great race, but it's ok that I'm not going to get to. You want to read a tragic story about running? Check out the feature article in Runners World about Jenny Crain. It very quickly puts things in perspective and makes me know that things could be a lot worse.

So what did I do? I kept on training as scheduled. Sure, it would've been easier to just forget about it since there were only 10 days to go, but then again, there are only 10 days to go. Come on, I can tough it out for 10 more days. There were two more water runs, both done in my wetsuit in my grandmother's backyard pool, which had cooled to 60 degrees for the last one. My head was steaming. I had my last pool swim for the race on Friday, and I rode the trainer incredibly early on Saturday morning to get that last long ride out of the way in the dark and rain so I could finish packing for my flight on Sunday. I happened to watch last year's Hawaii race while I pedaled away. I came and watched the race last year, and vowed that I would never come as a spectator again. They were talking to Tim Deboom and I was reminded about how he had been doing so great with his back-to-back wins and was taken out once by kidney stones and then again by what else? A stress fracture. He is back once again. It happens to the best of them. And they do come back.

The other important thing that I got to see on that DVD was actually myself. Of course the one time I actually made the broadcast it was as a spectator. And an overweight spectator at that, roughly 40 pounds heavier than I am at the moment. Don't bother looking, you probably wouldn't know it was me anyway. I only noticed because I knew where I was standing at this particular point in the race and I know what I was wearing. I was huge. It's embarrassing to look at, but in a way I think it was almost important for me to experience that so I know not to let it happen again. Also, as I was packing it gave me the opportunity to try on the very shorts I was wearing that day. I remember they were just about the only shorts I still owned that actually fit me, and it was a tight squeeze. I can't possibly wear them right now, they'd never stay up. I should've taken a picture of the gaping space between the waist of the shorts and my torso. It's good to have those kinds of reminders, and it's good to know that it reaffirms that I'm heading in the right direction.

So anyway, where am I at right now? Well, swimming and biking are not an issue. I plan on doing those no matter what. And to tell you the truth, I'd like there to be a finish line for me to cross on October 10th, so I will most likely be walking 26.2 miles. Before you start, I've asked, and I can't do any further damage by walking. I know myself. I know I'd feel a heck of a lot better on Sunday morning knowing that I stuck it out and finished the race than if I just finished the bike and called it a day. I remember last year too well. I remember in the few days leading up feeling ok that I wasn't racing and kind of enjoying not having to worry about not walking around too much, making sure I was drinking enough and eating the right things. But on race morning, when I walked down toward the pier to grab a good spot to watch the swim and I saw that finish line and knew that I wouldn't be crossing it, it hurt. A lot. At that particular point in time I felt so far gone that I wasn't really sure I'd ever get to cross it again, but I was going to try. As long as there is nothing medically stopping me, I'd like to get to that finish line again. Sure, unless I am a much faster walker than I'm aware, I will likely have a new personal worst for the Ironman and the marathon. I don't care. I just want to finish what I started. A few people have said they don't really see the point. Well, I see a point: it's important to me. I'm not really sure what other reason I need. I don't want to miss out on it again. Who knows what might happen between now and next year? Even if you do everything right, things beyond your control can still go wrong. I have to take these opportunities while I can. You only get so many shots. I keep wasting these opportunities here in Kona, but sooner or later, though definitely not this year, I am going to get it right.

I felt it was only fair to let everyone know this, so that when you check my splits online during the race you aren't too worried about me when you see I'm averaging 17:00 per mile, or something around that. I'm not sick or bonking, it was all part of the plan. And in a way it's kind of nice knowing I've got nothing to lose. If I go too hard on the bike, well, I was going to be walking anyway. I'll finally get my money's worth. I'll finally see what it's like to finish in the dark. And maybe I'll even put something sinful in my run special needs bag, although I can't really think of anything good that won't melt in the Hawaiian heat.

Oh, and the other part about the stress fracture of course is that no matter what, I still get to spend close to two weeks in Hawaii. That can't possibly be a bad thing. I left incredibly early from the Manchester airport on Sunday, a 6:15am flight to Chicago for starters. After 2 hours in the airport, I boarded a plane that took me all the way to Maui. Nine hours on the same plane. For some reason it never actually feels like 9 hours. And in this case, even less so because somehow, miraculously, I was on the window seat and the aisle seat next to me remained vacant. I had two seats to myself for a 9-hour flight, and zero screaming children anywhere near me. My feet tend to swell uncontrollably with plane travel, but not this time given that I could keep my feet elevated. I might have even slept a little, which for me is amazingly rare on airplanes.

After a brief stop in Maui, I got back on the plane and arrived in Kona at 3:30 in the afternoon, or 9:30pm to me. My bike actually arrived at the same time I did this time. At least I was getting a few small favors as payback for the other misfortunes. I somehow managed to remain awake enough to pick up some groceries and put my bike together before heading to bed. I hadn't looked at my watch until just when I was about to lie down and I realized it was only 7:30. Nice. Given that I've been awake today since about 12:30 I think, it probably all evens out.

I am staying at a house several miles from the action and up the most insanely steep driveway I have ever seen. I don't even know how to describe it. Literally it was scary walking down it with my bike this morning. It actually might be steeper than a 45-degree angle. Anyway, several of my QT2 teammates are here and we are just cooped up in the house, not doing much of anything, as instructed. This morning we did an hour bike ride and that was it. I will post pictures soon of all of the excitement. But tonight we are off to eat a nice, fatty meal to make sure we are stocked up for the final workouts leading up to the big day. It's not a ritual that you hear about from other athletes often, but given our otherwise incredibly rigid dietary restrictions, we definitely make this one count!

So yep, my foot is broken. Does it suck? Sure. Could things be worse? Definitely. In a lot of ways. I'll live. I'll heal. And I'll be ready to tackle next season with a vengeance.