Today we have a guest Thursday Thoughts from one of our members, Julie Brooks. Julie recently qualified for the Iron Man World Championships in New Zealand. Her story of qualifying and overcoming adversity is worth the long-winded read!

IM Monterrey 70.3 Race Report: Overcoming injury, illness, and self-doubt….

The months leading up to the race: A tough training cycle

After my failed attempt at IM Florida 70.3 last December, I was bound and determined to not fail at the next attempt at qualifying for worlds in New Zealand next December. Little did I know that the months in between the race in Florida and the next race in Monterrey, Mexico would be so challenging. I had a lot of life happen to me in 4 months: Injury to my left hamstring, long covid, international work travel, and a lot of work-related stress. Any one of those things could have doomed this race, and it almost did.
At the end of December, I was in Canada for a work trip, but also needed to continue my training for the next race. I made a poor judgment call and ended up doing a very hard speed interval workout on a curved treadmill very late at night after spending the day traveling and pulled my left high hamstring. Normal people would have just skipped this workout because they were tired and keep themselves healthy. But everyone knows I am not normal and pushed too hard. Big mistake. I pushed through when I should have rested and allowed it to heal. That hamstring ended up being a thorn in my literal backside for the entire winter. I just wasn’t able to get power pushing off my left leg running, especially at any speed. I tried ice, heat, a massage ball, anti-inflammatory meds… nothing helped. I finally asked my strength coach Nick at OnPoint Fitness who he would recommend as a Physical Therapist. He hooked me up with Jamie Greisinger, PT, DPT, CMTPT/DN at Empower Movement Physical Therapy ([email protected] (262) 337-3070). Holy balls this woman knows where to stick a needle. I started out seeing her twice a week for therapy on the hamstring, but she also found all the other painful places I had forgotten about. I never thought something would hurt so good.

I still actually do work and have a full-time career while participating in all this madness. At the beginning of February, I was in Atlanta for a tradeshow (all things chicken related) where I imagine I picked up the damn plague (I know it was Covid…) and proceeded to get the sickest I have been in a very long time. People who know me well, know I can’t sit still for 10 minutes, but I was hard down in bed for 5 days, and the walking dead for the next two weeks. I tried to do what I could tolerate but let’s be honest. I didn’t run a step, bike a mile or swim a lap for almost two weeks. I tried to keep up with low intensity, but my lungs just would not cooperate. I could not get enough air. I kept strength training hoping to conserve what fitness I had hoping that would be enough. By the third week in February, I was finally able to push the red line a little, but I could tell I was no where near the same fitness level I was in December. I was just hoping I could recover enough in time for the race on Apri 14th.
Oh, and did I mention I had another international work trip for 10 days in Peru in the middle of March? Talk about interfering with peak training…. But I must pay for all this madness, so off to Peru I went. I took my running shoes hoping to be able to make some gains there. HA! Turns out my co workers and boss had different ideas…. Holy 16-hour workdays batman….
After getting back from Peru I did not feel good physically. I was tired, my hamstring still hurt, and I just didn’t have the lung capacity to be able to run the pace I had in my head that I need to run. I started to think that I wasn’t strong enough or fit enough to race and that I should pull out of the race to live another day. As late as the night before leaving, I questioned why I was going. But in the end, I had paid the money, so F*CK !T! if anything, it would be a nice trip, to a warm place, that wasn’t work related. So, I went.

Pre-Race:

The picture I had in my head of Monterrey Mexico was completely off. I went believing that Monterrey was nothing, but a Mexican drug cartel run city that was dangerous with rampant crime and poverty. I could not have been more wrong, and to the people of Monterrey, I am sorry I had that prejudice. The city was extremely welcoming, the people were patient and kind (especially with my broken Spanish), and I never once felt unsafe. I rented a very modern, clean, and comfortable 2-bedroom Air BnB on the 11th story of a modern high-rise condo complex. Did I mention it was only 2 blocks from transition? What a find!
On Friday, I checked in and scoped out the courses. WOW is all I can say. The man made “river” was more like a 1.4-mile-long pool! Clean, clear water, with a cement bottom, 4’ deep, 74-degree water, and NO CURRENT! All it needed was lane striping down the length and it would have been a pool! The run course ran to either side of the “river” with 10 aid stations on a 6.6-mile 2 loop course. AND the bike course was closed to traffic on the express lanes of a freeway! YAY, no fighting traffic! At this point I started to feel a little better about the situation. Maybe, just maybe, I could pull one out of my a$$…

Race Day:

Guess who didn’t sleep well the night before and was awake before her 3:30 am alarm? Yup, this girl. Why, oh why, can’t I sleep???? I got up and consumed enough caffeine to rival the energy level of a class of kindergartners headed to recess and ate enough calories to fuel the Titanic on its maiden voyage. Did I mention the half a gallon of electrolyte to go with it? I knew I was going to have to stop and pee like a racehorse at some point before I put my wetsuit on, but I knew it was going to be hot. Headed out to set up transition by 4:30, and of course, was the first person there. I don’t know why, but I must always be early. There is nothing worse than being late, and I must be able to double, triple, quadruple check everything with the compulsive tendency of a serial killer. Set up: check! Time to walk to the swim start…where is the bathroom?

The swim (scrum):

Why is it that people cannot follow directions and line up appropriately for their projected swim time??? I thought about lining up with an earlier group (30–34-minute pace), but thought, no… that isn’t what you are supposed to do. Seed appropriately…so I lined up with the 35–39-minute group. Right where I thought I would land. I am so glad I did the practice swim the day before. The race started at 6am just before the sun came up. I knew this, so I had chosen my clear goggles instead of tinted ones so I could see clearly. That was the right choice, as many were standing up just so they could see where they were going. Again, guess who was swimming over numerous people? At one point this guy kept slapping me in the face and shoulder. I would kick hard and move away only for this dude to follow. After the third time of this, and it was a very crowded swim, I grabbed him by the shoulder and shoved his head under water. Take that f*cker! Good thing he got the hint because the next thing was really going to hurt. I crawled out of the water on the ramp and headed up the marble stairs toward transition…. silly me tried to cut a corner and slipped and fell on the marble. I bet I looked like a beached orca, lol! Ugh!!!!

T1:
Why can’t I get this damn wetsuit off????

The Bike:

Already pissed off that I fell, and having had trouble getting my wetsuit off, my heartrate was already up. The street leading out to the bulk of the closed course was cobblestone, holy balls! Talk about a tooth-rattling experience. Off the mount line was an immediate downhill (underpass) followed by a pretty good uphill out to the freeway. I knew I needed a head of steam to make it out quick, so I got on the hammer right away after the mount line. I didn’t dare get into aero at first. I had to hold on to the base bar for dear life. I knew I was either going to go fast or have a spectacular crash. The smart money would have been on my having a spectacular crash, but luckily for me, that was not the case. This was a full two-loop course, so I had the opportunity to ride the cobbles twice in one day. I do not recommend. The rest of the bike course was a literal blur. I rode my bike like I stole it and was being chased by an army of angry bikers low on caffeine and sugar. I gotta say, there is nothing more gratifying to a fat, old, white lady than “chicking “a young dude in a pointy helmet with a disc wheel. Sorry, not SORRY! I loved every moment of it! I hit the dismount line and as soon as I put a foot down, every muscle in my legs decided to cramp at once. I almost went down as I cried out in pain.

T2:
How quickly can a person eat a banana and drink half a flat coke? Pretty dang fast as it turns out.

The death march, I mean “Run”:

I got out on course, and it quickly became apparent that I did not drink enough water on the bike. My quads were cramping bad. I had to stop twice during the first 2 miles to take 2 salt pills, and drink some water and Gatorade. After about mile 3, I finally felt like I could get into some sort of rhythm, even as my legs were screaming at me. I was able to keep about a 9:30 pace until mile 4.5. I stepped on a damn water bottle, turned my right ankle (the one I constantly hurt), and went down like a ton of damn bricks. Luckily, I do not know how to swear in Spanish, as I am pretty sure the air turned blue around me. I sat there on the ground for a hot minute to try and gather my composure and my dignity. FFS, how do I always manage to turn my RIGHT ankle? Can’t I turn my left just once so I can have a matching set of kankles? I pulled myself up with what was left of my self-respect and hobbled off. Step hop, step hop, step hop….for like a quarter of a mile. At least I wasn’t cramping any more. It seemed like at this moment, the giant ball of flames in the sky decided to go on after burner. I know how a chicken feels now under a broiler. Luckily, aid stations were positioned every kilometer. I proceeded to dump ice down my kit at every aid station, and grab a bag, yes bag, of water. Pretty sure that saved me. I kept as cool as I could and just kept going. I knew I was slow, but I was hoping that it was enough. I had a song running through my head the last part of the race. It is a heavy metal song by Mudvane named DIG. I knew I had to dig to finish. It’s a pretty angry song, as well as being very loud and obnoxious. If you need a song to dig you out of the dark places, and like loud, obnoxious music (the kind of stuff that will make your ears bleed if you like Taylor Swift, look up at your own peril. You have been warned…) then I recommend this song for your list of motivational anthems. I’m pretty sure a “c’mon mutha f*cker, now dig” came out of my mouth a few times. Finally, the finish line was in sight…. About 50 meters from the finish, there was a table of various flags for all the countries represented in the race. I don’t know why, but I grabbed the American flag and held it in front of me as I crossed the finish line. Then a peak at my watch… 5:45… that was my B goal (A was 5:30), hopefully that was enough.

Awards Ceremony and World’s slot allocation:

The awards ceremony was at 7pm after the race. I finished a little before noon. Talk about 7 hours of nervous anticipation. I got back to my condo pretty quickly as I wanted to get out of the sun, take a shower, and then take a nap….yeah, no sleep for me. I went out by the pool, luckily in the afternoon, it is shaded, and just tried to relax. If you could call what I was doing relaxing. At this point, I knew I was 4th and had at least a podium spot. And probably a 50/50 chance at a roll down slot for worlds. I don’t know what was more tiring; the race itself or the racing in my head at this point. By 4pm I couldn’t take it anymore. I got up, changed clothes, and proceeded to slow walk to the hotel ballroom where the ceremony was taking place. I had 2.5 hours to walk a mile. Luckily, there was a boulevard lined with shops and street vendors. I meandered through the crowds of people to kill time.
Guess who was the first one in the ballroom??? It’s ok, it was nicely airconditioned, and they had water and juice set out on a buffet table. I struck up a conversation with another older couple, the man had placed 3rd in his AG, to help distract myself while I waited. This was the first time I have podiumed at a branded IM event, so being able to go onstage was a pretty cool experience. Got my trophy, posed for pictures, and of course almost fell off the stage. Probably should have to make a 3-fer for the day. For those who don’t know, I have the nickname SPAZ because of my propensity to fall down, a lot. That would have been hysterical if I would have fallen off the stage. Now back to my seat to wait…Arg! They of course did the men’s roll down first. Then the women. My heart was racing and sinking at the same time…was I going to make it, or did I have to try again????? Double Arg!!! The announcer called off the winner for the older age groups and the winner immediately accepted the slot. Oh boy, I would be in trouble if this trend continued. Same story for the 55-59 women’s age group. The winner accepted the slot. Finally, after what seemed like 3 hours, he made it to the 50-54 age group. He called the winner….no show. He called 2nd place….no show. (Ok, maybe, just maybe I was going to make it….). He called 3rd place….NO SHOW!!!! OMG, OMG, OMG, OMG!!!!! He called 4th place and my name, HOLY SH!T! I got the slot!! For a split second, I thought I was going to bust out in tears. Adrenaline just took over at that point. I calmly (no idea how I managed this), went up accepted my invitation and got my picture with my award. Everything else for the rest of the night was a blur.

The aftermath:

Let me tell you…. Having the dream of qualifying and being qualified for World’s are two completely different things. It took about an hour for the reality and gravity of the situation to sink in. In fact, now, almost a week later, I’m still not sure if this really happened, or if I am stuck in some crazy dream. Right now, I am feeling ALL of the emotions. Elation, happiness, anxiety, dread, fear. We wanted to do the thing, now we HAVE to do the thing. You can bet your a$$, I’m not going to just complete in New Zealand. I am going to COMPETE! The next 8 months are going to be hard core if that is even possible for me to be even more dedicated to the task at hand. Time to DIG!

Yours in perseverance, 

Julie and Nick