Choosing Health Over Finish Lines
The Mission:
Jeff and his wife were about 20 years into triathlons when they signed up for the 2023 Ironman TX 70.3 in Galveston. They’d met while training for the same marathon, and the training and races they’d done since had been a foundational part of their relationship. Something they loved to do together and a representation of the values they shared in life. A near continuous training cycle and loaded racing schedule kept them active and healthy— most of the time.
They planned to make a trip of the race: visiting their niece, enjoying the race atmosphere, and doing some sightseeing. After a short rest in the winter season, they jumped back into training in January for the May event. Pretty quickly, Jeff’s recurring plantar fasciitis started acting up, so he reduced his running mileage, but kept up with swimming and biking according to the training plan. His wife was struggling with a hamstring issue and pulled back her running mileage as well.
Each week they re-assessed their injuries and discussed the possibility of a successful race. As the big day drew closer, they weighed whether it was wise to line up at all, knowing that they had a full Ironman on the schedule for later in the summer.
When they made the decision to head to Galveston as planned, it was with one major caveat. They wouldn’t bring their running shoes to the race. They made the tough call to pull out of the race after the bike, and agreed that leaving their running shoes in the car was the safest way to make sure they wouldn’t be tempted to leave the transition area against their agreement.
Jeff’s mission now was to not let his wife beat him.
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The Attempt:
During the swim portion of the race, Jeff navigated the cold, murky water of Offats Bayou. He could barely see his hand in front of his face. The racers had all lined up by their anticipated speeds, and Jeff was pleased to pass a few people along the way. Jeff caught glimpses of the Moody Gardens Pyramids, reflecting their pink, blue, and silver over the water, as he approached the finish of the swim. He was feeling confident, but had no way of knowing where his wife was in the water. He was usually able to edge her out during the swim, but she was a stronger biker, and he wouldn’t have the run to catch back up if she passed him.
Jeff emerged from the water and moved quickly into transition. A volunteer helped him peel away his wetsuit to change into his cycling gear. Within a minute or two, he spotted his wife moving into transition too. Darn! It’s going to be hard to stay ahead with such a short lead going into the bike.
Jeff hustled to get onto his bike and speed out of the transition area. The wind buffeted his body–it felt like it was coming from every direction. Pastel colored beach houses flew by as he pedaled along the Seawall. He rode up and over two bridges, the only elevation gain on the course.
When Jeff reached the turnaround point and headed back toward Moody Gardens, he realized that the wind had not been coming from every direction so much as offering a helpful push from behind. Soon after the turning point, he knew he was in trouble. As much output and he had been giving on the way out, was hardly enough to stay moving forward now. A few miles later, his wife breezed past him with a smile. She’s a powerful rider.
He leaned into the pedals hard, giving it all to try to match her pace. The plantar fasciitis in his foot complained. He hadn’t suffered from pain on the bike during training, but now the tendons had had enough. Jeff backed off just enough to relieve the pain in his foot and watched as his wife grew smaller and smaller ahead of him.
As Jeff entered the second transition, he allowed other bikers to go ahead, so that they could finish their race strong. He had plenty of time.
The Call:
At the transition station, Jeff met back up with his wife. Together they handed over their bibs to a race volunteer. The thought crossed Jeff’s mind—I feel good, I could run, it’s only 13 miles. But there were no shoes to run in. Jeff and his wife looked to each other to remember and reinforce the promise they’d made. After assuring the volunteers that they were totally fine and didn’t need anything, they left the course, desperate to escape the buzz of the race. Later that day, they reflected on the highs and lows, the difficulty of turning in their bibs, and all the reasons their planned DNF was the right thing to do.
- Nobody cares that you DNFed except you – your friends and family aren’t going to hold it against you, and by the time it’s time to race again, everyone will have forgotten about the last one
- There is so much more to the race experience than crossing the finish line – it’s about the experience, the community, the growth and learning that comes with every attempt
- Failure isn’t Fatal – it really isn’t the end of the world when something goes wrong, it’s an opportunity, you’ll live to race again.
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Christine Reed is a New Mexico-based trailrunner and thruhiker whose passion for movement and the outdoors were born after reading blogs about the Appalachian Trail. She believes that everyone's story can be an inspiration. She is the award-winning author of Alone in Wonderland and editor of Blood Sweat Tears. When she's not running or writing and reading about running, she can be found relaxing in the hot springs and trying to even out her sock tanline.
