"Quitting is Better than Dying"

Feb 12, 2006 - My first Triathlon.

Thanks to my cousin James and his wife Jenny and their dog Maddy for driving up from San Diego to cheer me on.

Thanks also to my wife’s cousin Vivian - my 5K running partner - to drive over from Riverside to cheer me on.

Thanks to Lori for coming from Glendale with my family to cheer me on.

And thanks especially for Donna, Jacob and Bella to cheer for me, give me encouragement and to give me life! Thanks for being the loudest cheerleaders I’ve ever had! I did this for me as well as for them. My first Triathlon would have meant nothing if my family wasn’t there.

One hour and fifteen minutes was the goal. It was MY goal. A 5K run, followed by a 10 mile bike ride, ending with a 100 yard swim. One hour and fifteen minutes was very doable based on my training times.

It started with the run.

And I ran my personal best 5K ever. 27 minutes and 52 seconds. This is four minutes faster than the first 5K I ran in December. I’ve never come close to this time even in training. Coming to the transition area and seeing the time displayed really motivated me to put everything I could on the bike.

It took five miles for my legs to really get into the ride. I struggled through the first two mile incline and tried desperately to pick up speed. I glanced down on my speed and I was under 10 mph for most of the slight incline. I made the turn at the top and tried to hammer down on my cranks to make up for lost time. Having only put in less than 50 road miles on this bike, I was still tentative - especially as I got the speed up. I was nervous going faster than I have before so I backed off from pedaling on the way down to rest my legs. My best 10 miles was around 37 minutes. The only other time I rode 10 miles I did it in 40 minutes. I needed to aim for that 40 minute mark and the little rest I gave my legs on the way down really helped me on the way back up the incline again..

The last 5 miles felt really good. I was breathing great, I was a little over 10 mph all the way up to the turn, and on the way down I pedaled hard hitting 31+ mph for the first time in my life. I tucked in, used the aerobars and hammered down for the last turn.

Biking into the transition area I was at 40:59. I was on target! It was just as I planned. A 100 yard swim left to go!

I was on pace to finishing one minute faster than my goal. One hour and fourteen minutes was way better than I thought I could do even if it was just one minute faster. And I was five minutes away! I could do 100 meters in less than four minutes. And a 100 yard swim is a tad shorter than that. My arms felt good, by breathing was the best its ever been, and my legs were strong.

I put my bike up on the rack, kicked off my shoes, threw my helmet, glasses and shirt onto my bag and with the excitement of finally finishing my first triathlon I made my way to the pool area.

It is about a 50 yards run to the pool - through the parking lot transition area and up through a paved walkway. I was planning to slip on my running shoes because of the rough parking lot but I decided to ‘rough’ it. And the parking lot was fine. It didn’t really bother my feet. When I got to the paved walkway I didn’t expect it to be so cold. It was 9:09 AM and the sun hadn’t done it’s job on the ground yet.

I think it was the cold ground that triggered this unexpected feeling.

Ten feet from the pool entrance I felt the first sign of fatigue. The lack of oxygen. It was the type of fatigue coupled with the lack of oxygen that causes a sharp pain that shoots through your calf muscle, tightening it as tight as possible – and then tightening it some more. It was a leg cramp. I grabbed my calf muscle and tried desperately to massage the cramp out as I hopped on the other leg to the pool entrance. It was the worst cramp I’ve ever experienced. I couldn’t move my left leg. When I hopped on my right leg my left leg would just drag. I couldn’t touch it because it was too painful. I couldn’t get rid of the cramp! I looked down at my feet and my toes were twisted up in a very unnatural way. Despite the urgency to get to the pool, despite the excruciating pain I was going through, and despite the fact that I was losing precious time, I managed this thought… “Holy shit!” I couldn’t believe what I was looking at. My toes were pointing in different directions and they were on top of each other. The pain in my calf took the attention away from the other cramp I had. The one I had in my toes. It was horrible.

I limped my way to the edge of the pool and took a breather. Walking it out took more energy than the run and bike ride combined. I bent over before hitting the water. The lifeguard asked if I was okay and I managed a nod. I wasn’t sure if I could go on. I looked over and saw James, Jake and Lori at the fence cheering me on.

And so I jumped in.

The world went silent as it always does when you go under water. A few other triathletes were falling into the water feet first around me. I pushed hard for the surface and the sounds of the world again filled my ears as I gasped for air. I started my kick but the pain shot through my leg once again so I used my arms and let my legs relax.

And that’s when it hit me – the left calf was already killing me… but then the right calf decided it was time to do the same.

I was on my second stroke when I felt it. I screamed under water then turned for air. I took a desperate breath and held it as I kept up the stroke. My body wasn’t twisting left and right as I know it should. I was swimming like I was going to drown and so I turned on my back and fought to get to the wall. There was no relaxing technique here. It was a fight for survival.

I grabbed onto the wall. Other triathletes were trying to do the same. I saw panic in some eyes as I held on. I had 75 more yards to go. Three more widths of the pool left for me to go.

The pool was filled chaos and I felt like it was over. I couldn’t continue. I panicked. I couldn’t breath. And I had a cramp in both legs.

It was over.

I had to quit I thought.

That is until I pushed off the wall and got in a few strokes ignoring the pain in my legs and ignoring all the swim technique I learned in the past two months.

I rotated onto my back, desperate for air and I fought my way to the wall. Getting under the lane rope to the other side was a chore. But I did it.

I struggled on the wall once again. I wasn’t going to quit. I knew that now. And I pushed off, this time I got on my back and made my way back to the other side. I looked up at the sky and thought to myself on how beautiful the day was. Seriously. That’s the thought that crossed my mind. My shoulder brushed against the lane rope acting as a guide to the other side as I kicked my way along the water. I relaxed my breathing. I took deep breaths. I made it.

I was 25 yards away. I gasped for air. I huffed and puffed. I think I saw Jake at the fence watching his papa go through hell.

“25 more yards” I said to myself. I heard myself yell, “COME ON GLENN!” I was trying to convince myself to let go of the wall and go. But my hands weren’t letting go. It was as if different parts of my body were fighting each other to stay away from the torture. I said it one more time, “COME ON!”

My hands decided to let go. My legs decided they would give it one more try despite the pain. And this time I swam hard. I swam as hard as I could. I took a breath after every stroke. I kicked like I was taught not to do. I did everything I could that felt would help me make it to the end. I fought my way to the edge of the wall and thought to myself, thank god there are steps. Because if there wasn’t I would have never made it out of the pool alone.

I limped out of the water and out of the pool area. I pulled my race slip off my tri-suit and handed it to the race official.

Jake, James and Lori were waiting at the finish. I passed them and muttered, “I thought I was going to die.” Then went off on my own a few feet away.

I heard James say, “You’re crazy! I would have quit.”

I heard Lori laugh and ask, “You would?”

And James replied, “Yeah. Quitting is better than dying.”

You would think tears of joy filled my goggles. You would think the tears that came out my eyes were tears of accomplishment. Of pride. Of exhilaration. Nope. It was tears of laughter. I found myself laughing to myself. I was laughing on the inside. I was laughing on the outside. It was the kind of laugh that causes tears. Tears of laughter. I said to myself, “HOLY ****** WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?” It is times like these where you aren’t normal. It’s times like these when you talk outloud to yourself. It’s times like these that you’ll never forget. And in that moment I thought I was crazy for even thinking about doing this whole Triathlon thing. I was thinking that I would be crazy to do another one. I asked myself why I would do another one anyway.

It was then I stopped my watch and realized I just went through about nine minutes of pure hell.

When Donna, Jenny, Vivian and Bella didn’t see me finish Jenny told Donna to go see if someone was getting CPR.

Vivian said that she was worried about me when I was holding on to the wall. She said Donna was calm and just said, “Oh he’s just resting.”

Donna knew I wasn’t going to quit. She told me if I did quit she would have told me to get back into the pool and finish. That’s why I married her.

On my stop watch it read: 1 hour and 18 minutes. I’d say I finished around the 1 hour 17 minute mark because of the delay on stopping my chorno.

What a day. What a day… What a day!

Later that morning, after ordering a juicy steak at “Chilis” for breakfast, I found myself very excited about doing my next Triathlon. The fleeting moment about questioning my desire to do Triathlons quickly faded away. So yes, bring it on. Make it harder, longer and more torturous than the first. I’m up for the challenge!!!

At the table I was telling my “cheering squad” how I felt like quitting while I held on to the wall for dear life when Jake pointed out something to me that I’ve tried to teach him since the day he was born. “I thought you said there’s no quitting…” he asked.

I replied the only way I could.

“You’re right. There’s no quitting. And that’s why Papa didn’t.”

He finally gets it.

And after seeing me go through what I did. After hearing me tell the stories. And after knowing what a Triathlon is and seeing one with his own eyes you know what he has asked me several times since then?

“When can I do a Triathlon? Can I do one when I’m six?”

Yes Jake. You can do one when you’re seven. Just learn how to swim first.

Yes, “Quitting is better than dying,” as James says.

But “To Finish is to Live,” is what I say…

Edited by TriathleteNut 2006-02-14 3:41 PM