I wish I had 3 hours to spare to expand on the title of this entry because I have more than enough information to fulfill that timeslot. However, as I am still currently without (speedy) internet, and not wanting to indefinitely hold up the computer at the house, a brief overview will have to suffice for the time being. (Hopefully I can find some time when I come home (in less than 2 weeks!) to expand on this as well as many other elements of Korean culture which I find particularly admiring and interesting).
In fact, the original title of this entry was 'Korean Culture and Magnanimity', but as I am currently at a loss as to how to even embark upon a description of the generosity and magnanimity that I have recently been the recipient of, I decided to save that word for the hopeful future date at which point I can find a suitable expression of the situation without being tactless. In any case, an itch in my soul is mandating that I write even the most ambiguous of accounts as a minute token of my gratitude.
Over the past few days (in notable addition to the past year and past week), not only was I able to observe incredible kindness seemingly stemming from a pot of gold at the end of a rainbow, but that benevolence was delivered in the sophisticated and deft speech of a non-native English speaker. Not only that, but the justification that followed the convictive proposition left my mind searching in endless directions for an explanation of how and why these people make the decisions that they make.
After a brief period of befuddlement, I came to the conclusion that these people, while I'm sure have at least a few stemming personal interests, possess a magnanimity with which I am incapable of empathizing. Although I would like to believe that I would do something similar in such a situation, as I searched into the windows of this Korean woman's soul, I could detect no selfishness or hopes of personal gain. And it leaves me wondering - did I just stumble across some of the most kind, gracious people in Korea, and happen to create an unforeseeable bond with them? Or is this sort of kindness, in various degrees, a sort of native exuberance?
As my experience over the past year has created an affable and uplifting perception of the average South Korean person, I tend to allot these above traits, in proportion of course, to many of the people who I see daily on the bus and who carry on in such an encouraging manner everyday. Watching them bear all toils of life in near absence of frustration, scowls, or anger turned-outward is a constant inspiration for me to work through my frustration without bottling in the feeling, but by conquering it through assuaging the negatives, drawing from love, and creating a mental path prime for clear, effective decision making. Perhaps it seems that I am getting off topic, but I believe that this path of self-discovery and benevolence is all intertwined.
Unfortunatley I have already run out of time, so I will leave you with something that I hope strikes a somewhat introspective cord, for I think even the most magnanimous of people can benefit from, at the least, all instances of appreciating kindness that I'm convinced can be found in all spectrums of culture, even if you have to take an extra minute to find it, or perhaps even create it for others to reflect upon.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Friday, August 28, 2009
Things I Learned While Training on Geoje Island
(Monday, August 24, 1:35p. Arrived at Mongdol Beach Hotel on Geoje Island, South Korea.)
Monday:
*"Easy running" in Geoje does not exist.
*(Nor biking (I assume), for that matter.)
*Don't leave things in a plastic bag on the beach, or they will be picked up and mistaken for trash. Luckily my budding Korean skills and cute smile got me out of that mess (just kidding about the cute smile... :D )
*It never hurts to try the buttons on the wall (in your hotel room). One might be the light for the bathroom so you don't have to shower in the dark (again).
*I love FT Island. And Korean Music TV. I'm such a teenaged girl.
Tuesday:
*Confirming yesterday's inference, easy biking does not exist in Geoje.
*10% grades aren't so bad in the easiest gear.
*I wish my speedometer worked as I was bombing down the hills! I get such a childish delight as I see the numbers hit the next ten spot.
*I really hope that I get paid tonight...If not I can't spend another 1,000won! (At least I have my credit cards...)
*Aqua jogging is great exercise - and frankly, kind of hard.
*I NEED TO GET INTO SHAPE!
*Riding on a 'raft', being towed by a motor boat, looks like way more fun than water skiing.
*Check phone charger before going on a trip! Now I have limited funds as well as limited contactability. I really should go home before I get into trouble, but I think the next few days will give me a crapload of life experience...
Wednesday:
*Hills seem more steep when going downhill and knowing that you have to climb back up them later (compared to when you are climbing them back up later).
*While I think now I can climb most hills in my smallest gear, I no longer hold that all 10% grades are easy in the smallest gear. Long 10%-grade hills can be a bitch.
*2.5k. 11 minutes. Minimum (noticed) speed: 6kph. Grade = unknown, but must have been a mo-fo-er. 7 switchbacks. (That's right - 7. One hill. If you don't believe me, go count yourself.) SO HARD. But unparallel mental training.
*My Coach and my hotel are ridiculously nice (comment made concerning them plotting to find me a phone charger.)
*Frustration is setting in from no money and from not getting paid.
*Apparently a butterfly can't move 1 meter in the time it takes me to travel about 20 meters going 44kph to get out of the way of full-body-smackage.
* If you spend too much time in the ocean, which in Geoje is easy due to its enticing...everything... you will get eaten by sea bugs.
*Toothpaste is the best anti-fogger I have yet encountered.
*Being in the ocean for 2+ hours warrants washing my mouth out with soap.
*1 minute of egg-beaters after 60 minutes of aqua jogging is hard.
*Geoje Island is the most beautiful place (or one of them) to aquajog in the world.
*I really need to start taking pictures...
*I want to learn how to surf.
Thursday:
*Running up 바람의 언덕 (Windy Hill) is great mental training...omG.
*Employing techniques of super-slow running with occasional running in place was necessary to get up a 3+ km-hill without stopping (grade between 9-10%).
*7+ minutes, 1km, downhill. Translates to 5.3mph, about 9:40s per mile. Whatever gets you through the run, I guess. (Well, not you - because I bet many of you could have whipped me on this run).
*Hoping your camera battery is charged does not yield the same results as actually charging it...man - I would have gotten some pretty sweet pictures too...
*Jellyfish scare me.
*Moving up a steep incline on a rock beach with no shoes on is no easy task, and in my case can only be described as a clumbsy monkey-walk. Next time maybe I should make a monkey noise. At least that would make it more fun.
*Despite what you might think, 5 blisters on the balls of my feet (from excellent decision-making last Sunday) do not make walking on rock beaches feel better.
*If majority rules, then fish would rule the world.
*If it were possible to build a house safe from hurricanes and the like as an island such that I would have to swim to land everyday in order to work and to get food, I would do it in a heartbeat.
*18g-of-protein-worth of beef jerky is more than 6x the price of a can of soda, but just as delicious and nutritious as the jerky I've eaten in the States.
*I miss Korean food. When will my salary some so I can go to a restaurant and eat some real food?!?
*I love how 'switchbacks' (or just 'winding' in general) are called 꼬불꼬불 in Korean, which sounds like 'gobble gobble'. :D
Friday:
*Slippery roads, fog, and Geoje hills do not go well together. Luckily my hotel was situated near on of the only flats on the island (all 1km or so of flat), so I got to ride back and forth for 2.3 hours (with a partial-hill added into the repeats as the sun came out).
*Brown jellyfish really scare me. As the scariness-level of jellyfish go, they take the cake (unless I were confronted with a black one - then I might **** my bathing suit.)
*Walking stairs for 30 minutes counts as running in my training log.
*In my opinion, 16.5 hours of exercise in 4.5 days constitutes a pretty sweet workout trip for coming off of a decently-dehabilitating injury.
*Killing 8 mosquitos in the morning before exercising makes me feel powerful.
*There is much wisdom to be learned from 'boring' interval repeats if you really tune into what your body is saying.
That's about all I learned on my trip. Unfortunately, since I waited until Thursday to charge my camera and Friday was foggy, I took zero pictures. Go me. I'll just have to wait until the next time I go to Geoje for pictures...(smacking self on the head).
Monday:
*"Easy running" in Geoje does not exist.
*(Nor biking (I assume), for that matter.)
*Don't leave things in a plastic bag on the beach, or they will be picked up and mistaken for trash. Luckily my budding Korean skills and cute smile got me out of that mess (just kidding about the cute smile... :D )
*It never hurts to try the buttons on the wall (in your hotel room). One might be the light for the bathroom so you don't have to shower in the dark (again).
*I love FT Island. And Korean Music TV. I'm such a teenaged girl.
Tuesday:
*Confirming yesterday's inference, easy biking does not exist in Geoje.
*10% grades aren't so bad in the easiest gear.
*I wish my speedometer worked as I was bombing down the hills! I get such a childish delight as I see the numbers hit the next ten spot.
*I really hope that I get paid tonight...If not I can't spend another 1,000won! (At least I have my credit cards...)
*Aqua jogging is great exercise - and frankly, kind of hard.
*I NEED TO GET INTO SHAPE!
*Riding on a 'raft', being towed by a motor boat, looks like way more fun than water skiing.
*Check phone charger before going on a trip! Now I have limited funds as well as limited contactability. I really should go home before I get into trouble, but I think the next few days will give me a crapload of life experience...
Wednesday:
*Hills seem more steep when going downhill and knowing that you have to climb back up them later (compared to when you are climbing them back up later).
*While I think now I can climb most hills in my smallest gear, I no longer hold that all 10% grades are easy in the smallest gear. Long 10%-grade hills can be a bitch.
*2.5k. 11 minutes. Minimum (noticed) speed: 6kph. Grade = unknown, but must have been a mo-fo-er. 7 switchbacks. (That's right - 7. One hill. If you don't believe me, go count yourself.) SO HARD. But unparallel mental training.
*My Coach and my hotel are ridiculously nice (comment made concerning them plotting to find me a phone charger.)
*Frustration is setting in from no money and from not getting paid.
*Apparently a butterfly can't move 1 meter in the time it takes me to travel about 20 meters going 44kph to get out of the way of full-body-smackage.
* If you spend too much time in the ocean, which in Geoje is easy due to its enticing...everything... you will get eaten by sea bugs.
*Toothpaste is the best anti-fogger I have yet encountered.
*Being in the ocean for 2+ hours warrants washing my mouth out with soap.
*1 minute of egg-beaters after 60 minutes of aqua jogging is hard.
*Geoje Island is the most beautiful place (or one of them) to aquajog in the world.
*I really need to start taking pictures...
*I want to learn how to surf.
Thursday:
*Running up 바람의 언덕 (Windy Hill) is great mental training...omG.
*Employing techniques of super-slow running with occasional running in place was necessary to get up a 3+ km-hill without stopping (grade between 9-10%).
*7+ minutes, 1km, downhill. Translates to 5.3mph, about 9:40s per mile. Whatever gets you through the run, I guess. (Well, not you - because I bet many of you could have whipped me on this run).
*Hoping your camera battery is charged does not yield the same results as actually charging it...man - I would have gotten some pretty sweet pictures too...
*Jellyfish scare me.
*Moving up a steep incline on a rock beach with no shoes on is no easy task, and in my case can only be described as a clumbsy monkey-walk. Next time maybe I should make a monkey noise. At least that would make it more fun.
*Despite what you might think, 5 blisters on the balls of my feet (from excellent decision-making last Sunday) do not make walking on rock beaches feel better.
*If majority rules, then fish would rule the world.
*If it were possible to build a house safe from hurricanes and the like as an island such that I would have to swim to land everyday in order to work and to get food, I would do it in a heartbeat.
*18g-of-protein-worth of beef jerky is more than 6x the price of a can of soda, but just as delicious and nutritious as the jerky I've eaten in the States.
*I miss Korean food. When will my salary some so I can go to a restaurant and eat some real food?!?
*I love how 'switchbacks' (or just 'winding' in general) are called 꼬불꼬불 in Korean, which sounds like 'gobble gobble'. :D
Friday:
*Slippery roads, fog, and Geoje hills do not go well together. Luckily my hotel was situated near on of the only flats on the island (all 1km or so of flat), so I got to ride back and forth for 2.3 hours (with a partial-hill added into the repeats as the sun came out).
*Brown jellyfish really scare me. As the scariness-level of jellyfish go, they take the cake (unless I were confronted with a black one - then I might **** my bathing suit.)
*Walking stairs for 30 minutes counts as running in my training log.
*In my opinion, 16.5 hours of exercise in 4.5 days constitutes a pretty sweet workout trip for coming off of a decently-dehabilitating injury.
*Killing 8 mosquitos in the morning before exercising makes me feel powerful.
*There is much wisdom to be learned from 'boring' interval repeats if you really tune into what your body is saying.
That's about all I learned on my trip. Unfortunately, since I waited until Thursday to charge my camera and Friday was foggy, I took zero pictures. Go me. I'll just have to wait until the next time I go to Geoje for pictures...(smacking self on the head).
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Unfortunate Circumstances Part II: Contemplation and Rehab
As I reread the previous post to get a sense of where to begin Part II, I once again relived the experience, and realized that I was not completely truthful about my emotions (maybe I was truthful at the time but suppressed my true emotions...I can't say for sure). All I know is, thinking back to being stuck in the cove and seeing and hearing the presence of my Coach on the rock (I don't think I looked at his face, for whatever reason), and failing my first attempt at getting out of the water, I realized that while it is true that I was calm and thinking strategically, I was not completely unafraid.
I suppose that the fear I felt was just different from normal fear - absent of a racing heart mostly - so it was hard to recognize. But I do remember now that after falling back into the water, there were many thoughts that went through my head, many of them concerning whether or not I would make it up onto that rock. I don't care who you are, if you value your life or anything in it, I think feeling uncertainty about a possible-life-or-death outcome despite knowing you will put forth your best effort to fight, will result in a feeling that is meant to be captured in the meaning of 'fear.' It was almost a combination of complete persistence and mild-hopelessness, if you can imagine such a feeling, because I understand that the description doesn't make much sense at all.
(I'm saying this because I wanted to clarify that I am not as 'heroic' or 'fearless' as I may make myself out to be, or as you may make me out to be, in saying that I felt no fear. Because in reassessment, I think I was blinded by ignorance.)
Black goggles, light blue short-sleeved shirt, olive green pants, and pink socks - stuck to the emotionally-helpless body of a seemingly-uncomfortable shape of complete vertical asymetry (strangely enough, because I'm sure the body took the most comforting position at the time). After following Coach on four legs to a more safe, dry spot, this is the visual that remained situated, trembling, for the next few minutes. With the right foot flat on the rock, right arm resting on the knee to provide a temporary refuge for a heavy head, I let the emotions pour for a few moments until my soul decided to conjure enough strength to lift my eyes and search through my tears for the image that had just a few minutes ago been so close, so real.
I can't really say what I was looking for. I know that my mind was not contemplating going back in, and I wasn't looking for a sight to torture my thoughts. Maybe I was wondering where the waves had taken him. I also remember wanting to know where he was incase the ER team, which was quickly arriving, needed to know, so they could more quickly complete their task of retrieving the body - although I had absolutely no intention of trying to make any sounds reminiscent of words in the case that I could provide such information. More likely, I was looking for a something of substance - something that reminded me of the boy that had just been under my arms - to which I could say goodbye; to which I could send a piece of my heart.
After not much luck, my subconscious strength took hold and, with the help of my Coach, took me to retrieve my various strewn belongings. Mildly audible sobs replaced my breathing, and if I had made eye contact with anyone other than the boy's friends*, I think I would have been met by most of the eyes of the many onlookers who had been there to capture most of the scene. Luckily my mind did not entertain such an option, as I focused all my remaining energy to getting back up the cliff in my now-slippery shoes, with my eyes towards the ground, until we climbed over the barrier to the parking lot and made our way back to the car. I heard some words from various onlookers but in all honesty I don't think I would have understood any words coming from anyone other than my Coach at that time, no matter what the language.
(*My heart truly goes out to the boy's friends, because as I gave them my brief attention, their expressions of hardly any change in emotion signified a probable confusion, shock, and delay of processing the events. I wish to say nothing else about the friends other than I hope they put no blame in their minds for anything that they may have misconstrued about the situation.)
I got into the backseat of Coach's car and we drove to his home. As we were driving, my mind was somewhat paralyzed, unable to grasp the entirety of what had just transpired. I was also trying to be as quiet as possible because, although I know that Coach and his family are very intuned to my culture (as well as the fact that I may act differently due to culture even if they don't understand why), I wasn't sure how their culture dealt with such circumstances, so I'm glad that I was able to refrain from loud sobbing in the car for that reason. I was at an interim of sobbing fits, and was content to sit with my head in my hand, looking out the window as we passed through streets that looked familiar and yet strange, from the shade of a new perspective.
From the moment I emerged from the water, most of what I heard from Coach was a kind of 'sighing' and perhaps things reminiscent of 'oh my God,' although I can't remember exactly. In the car the 'sighs' continued (not often, but there), with nothing spoken much between us except for some 'should I get a blanket to put on the seat' type questions that I asked before getting into the car.
Soon after we started for his home, he called his wife (in a very calm voice, characteristic of him, but I could detect special softness in his tone at this time) and asked her to prepare a warm bath, and told her that we would be home soon. Since the word for bath/bathing sounds like the word 'to eat', I initially thought he was asking her to prepare dinner, but then as I realized what he was asking for, a feeling of warmth started to find its way into my wounded heart. It is from here that I think my healing began.
We got the the house, and I was a little worried about my mood. In Korea thus far, my mood has been a stable very-happy, especially around my Coach's family. They have never seen me enter their house, or enter a room or area, without a huge smile on my face. And I knew this was about to change. I knew that he didn't tell them exactly what happened either, but I'm sure that his wife knew from his phone call that something was very out of the ordinary, so I bet she prepared herself and my little bro for an abnormal meeting.
However, once I got inside and I saw my brother, it wasn't hard to put my troubles at least partially at bay and muster a smile. While the smile wasn't nearly as full as usual, it came with ease. If there is one thing I have learned from becoming an older-sibling figure (as well as a teacher), it is that kids are a special breed. Not only do they have a special energy that requires a different type of attention (and thus crippling the ability to ruminate in their presence), but they also don't have the capacity to comprehend many mature situations. My mind realized this without having to think about it, and while I was still obviously not the same enthusiastic, life-loving person that day as I normally am, my appearance was significantly less-traumatized when I saw his face.
Anyway, Coach and his wife directed me into the bathroom to relax. As I took off my wet clothes, I left on my bathing suit (which I had been wearing the whole time because I had swum before hand and not yet changed) as I climbed into the tub. I'm not sure why - maybe to attempt to wash away the experience of the past hour.
I sat in the warm water, head in hands, and allowed myself to sob again, but attempted to stifle the noise (again, partially because I wasn't sure of the culture, partially because of my little brother, and also just because I'm not the type of person to weep all out in front of others unless I am in their arms and then I am pretty much uncontrollable). However, I was aware of my surroundings, and aware of the time, and aware of the fact that I was using the only bathroom in their apartment, so I let about 10 minutes pass and then cleaned myself up and prepared to muster the strength to politely decline our usual Sunday dinner engagement.
After opening the door into the real world, once again it was easier to be more normal. There was a definite mood of mild apphrehension but nothing like I would probably have seen in the States or any other western countries. I walked out, set my bag of clothes down, and soon after told Coach that I thought it would be best if I went home. I'm not stupid - I know that I am more apt to ruminate about it if I am alone, but I also didn't want to ruminate about it in the presence of those that take such great care of me and ruin their afternoon, especially considering their culture might look down upon such brooding. (For the record, I am under the impression that Koreans do not brood as much, but probably do somewhat and let things go quicker. Also, Korean people generally do not show their emotions nearly as much as Americans do, so even if they were brooding you might not be able to tell. I don't mean to sound negative or judgmental towards Koreans in this way, I'm just stating observations and guesses. I actually think that one reason I am dealing with this situation as well as I believe I am is because my mood has become much more stable since living here as a result of their more peaceful nature.)
Coach consented to the premature trip home, but asked that I wait for him to take a shower so that he could take me there. As he had just driven 3+ hours that day (we had returned from Geoje Island early that morning), I didn't want him to have to drive even more when I could take a bus, but he gently insisted, so I complied. When he was in the shower, I played Jacks with my bro, laughing (although more sedated) and making various small talk. Coach's wife's mood was extremely stable (in the sense that it was just about as normal as it usually is) which was suprisingly not uncomfortable at all. But at one point, while 'playing' Jacks, she made a comment saying "don't think about it too much - it's not your fault", and without thinking my face contorted and tears started sprinting down my face. I turned away, wiped them on my arm, took a quick deep breath, and turned back, nearly composed. She then casually asked me if I wanted a tissue. It was a very interesting interchange, because her face didn't exhibit any sympathy at all (although I'm positive she felt for me), and I felt very comfortable and reassured. A smile followed soon after the tears and conversation was becoming easier and easier.
After Coach finished showering, everyone got up and started to leave. Although he said he was going to take me home, once we all got into the elevator I realized that that probably wasn't going to happen. While I still wanted to be alone, because no matter how much comfort they gave me I was still going to be traumatized to some degree, I of course would consent to having dinner with them if they knew the repercussions. And that's just what happened.
There was a decent amount of traffic so there was ample time to talk in the car. After a few minutes, I decided to get over myself and ask them what I was thinking. So I said, "If you were watching the situation that happened today, and you didn't know me, can you tell me honestly what you would have thought? I mean, I brought him to the rocks, which was clearly more dangerous than bringing him to shore. I know that Koreans are very honest. Do you think that people thought that that was a bad thing to do? Either way, it doesn't matter. I know they won't think all badly of me. I will just feel better if I know one way or the other."
After having merely asked the question and vocalized my concern, I immediately felt much better. Coach's wife said, "I think people thought you were brave, and that they were very thankful that you tried. Especially because you are a foreigner." Then she and Coach went on to say through a bit more elaboration that they both thought that I was very brave and that they were very thankful that I tried. I maintained my composure pretty well, acknowledging that my brother was sitting next to me, but also voiced a few of my concerns, talked it out a bit, shed a few silent tears, and shifted gears to talk about what kind of food we wanted to eat for dinner.
*I know that some of you might be wondering why Coach didn't go in after the boy (I posted a bit about this on a triathlon forum for a bit more support, and someone voiced that question), so I will address that now. We never talked about it, and I have to admit I didn't even consider this question until someone posed it on the forum. But after thinking about it, I believe or know the following things: a) I am a stronger swimmer than he is, especially in open water; b) I had my goggles with me and he did not; c) I had just swum in this water and thus knew without having to think that I could handle it; d) he does not have recent experience swimming in big waves. While it is true that his lifeguarding and CPR skills are more up-to-date than mine, I believed at the time (without having to consciously think about it) that I was the best option that this boy had at survival, and I believe that my Coach thought the same thing, for if he did not, I believe that he would not have allowed me to get into the water. I think many people think because he is my 'coach' (which, in fact, his relationship to me is not that of a traditional coach, something which can not be easily explained if you don't know our situation) as well as a man, that he should have been the one to jump in, and I do not agree.
Also, even if he were a better swimmer than I am, I would not fault him for not going in (let me include that he never persuaded me to go in by any means). The waves were very big, and the area had a lot of rocks around the peripheral, and it would have been somewhat dangerous for anyone to go in there, especially if they did not have full confidence in being able to battle the waves for their own life, never mind for another's as well. I hope that none of you judge him for not going in. In the end, in a situation like this, if someone has any doubts about whether or not to go in, I would (at least in hindsight) personally advise that they do not, because doubt can be a very dangerous factor in such an equation.*
As the day's events had left me feeling much less filtered than normal, I decided to utilize that feeling and ask about the status of my potential job as a triathlon coach in Korea for this upcoming fall (I felt that asking too many questions about it would be bothersome to him, especially since he was working very hard to make it happen, so I was originally planning to wait it out). I won't go into this conversation much, because it is the subject of my next entry, but I can say that it has a very exciting answer. If you want my advice, I'd tune in after a few days to read about it. :)
We ate our 낙지 볶음밥 (nakji bokkum bap, or spicy octopus and rice - one of my favorite meals) and discussed particulars of the job, and didn't talk much about the day's events, which was good for me. I initially hadn't wanted to go out because I thought that would be all I could think about, but after having addressed some of my concerns in the car and having a new exciting prospect on the horizon to ask questions about, I was able to put my feelings and internal images at bay.
As we finished our meal, I assumed they were going to take me home, although my mind was still unable to think about more than one thing at once so I wasn't really thinking about anything other than the present, which at that time was looking at an English comic book with little bro. However, when we got in the car, Coach asked me if I could see a movie with them, to which I agreed without consideration beyond wondering what time I gad to get up for work the next day.
I have to admit, they are very perspicacious. At no time did I feel like they had any plans to lure me away from my ruminative solitude, but I now believe that all along that was their intention - and they implemented it beautifully. Not once did they ask me with a sympathetic look if I wanted to be with people; not once did they suggest that being alone would make me feel worse; and not once did they make it obvious that they knew that this was the best thing for me and that my decision to want to go home was clearly the worse option. They merely seemed to sympathize with the torment that was going through my mind and quelled that torment with compassion and love; a love which from the eyes of an ordinary observer may have appeared nonexistent, but which I know in my heart was overwhelmingly present.
G.I. Joe actually turned out to be not too bad of a flick. Coach's wife told me that they wanted to see something else - something more happy - but no better option was playing at that theater (one of the other options was a movie about a tsunami... - but we had already seen it anyway :) ). As we sat in the theater eating our popsicles and waiting for the movie to start, I turned to them and thanked them for taking me out. "I know I said I wanted to go home, and I did. I didn't want to bum you guys out, because I knew I wasn't going to be in the best mood tonight. But I'm very thankful that you took me to dinner, and to this movie. I'm hardly thinking about it, and I already feel much better. So thank you, very much. I really appreciate it." They nodded, smiled, and briefly acknowledged their actions. And then I moved onto another topic of conversation.
As the movie ended and I stood up out of my seat, I realized that my foot was in a decent amount of pain. I had put a few bandaids on my ankle and my toe before dinner so I knew there were minor injuries, but my toe started to feel like it was broken. I limped out of the theater, and saw Coach limping as well (apparently he sustained a minor injury as well as he was running down the cliff). I told them that I thought I might have broken my toe, and took off my shoe to see the damage. Sure enough, it was purple and swollen. So they decided to take me to a hospital before going home.
The hospital fees ended up being much more expensive during extended hours, so after telling him that I was fine until morning, we left, and decided that I would call my school and tell them that I was going to come in late the next day so I could go to the hospital first thing. (I didn't have class anyway so all I would be skipping was fulfilling my contract for being at school for a certain amount of days per semester.) Coach told me to contact him in the morning so we could go to the hospital together.
The next morning, we met at 9:20a near his home. I of course thought we would be going straight to the hospital, because he told me that they opened at 9:30a. However, as we started walking together, he told me that before going to the hospital, he wanted to take me to the firestation to report my brave act. I was a little nervous, because I had already cried a few times that morning, and I knew that if I heard the story again (even if it was in Korean) I would start crying yet again, and I didn't want my Coach to think badly of me for not being able to contain my emotions. But of course, I consented.
We arrived at the fire station, and took a seat. Coach barely got out the words "yesterday, Igidae Park, middle school student", and tears started flowing. However, I tried my best to maintain some sort of composure, and made it through re-living the scene with a steady one-tear-per-cheek, with constant hand-grazing near the tear ducts. He told them the basics, and after he was finished, a few firemen escorted us to another room on the second floor. I regained my composure as we met some new Korean faces who had not yet seen my overt display of emotions, hoping to keep it that way. But yet agian, he told the story, in more detail, and with the back and forth glances from four firemen, a few tears forced themselves past my weak barrier of composure.
Luckily, two of the firemen were periodically interrupting Coach's flow with questions and comments. "Yea, we heard he was a 3rd grade middle student" (about 9th grade in the States). "We had heard that a foreigner jumped in after him, but the onlookers thought she was Russian." (All of this, of course, in Korean - and thus I can't say that my translations were perfect, but definitely the right gist.) They finished up talking, tried to talk to me a bit but with their English skills almost non-existent and my Korean skills, as much of my other mental capacities, paralyzed, I was not able to directly interact much with the firemen. However, before we left, they looked me right in the eye, and said what my eyes and heart know to be some version of, "We thank you so much for your bravery." After a few more words with Coach, they shook our hands, and we set off for the hospital.
Our destination was the same hospital that treated me for my burns. 'Great,' I thought. 'They're going to think I'm a psycho.' But, not as psycho as the doctor who treated me for my broken fingers would have assessed, because 3 broken digits in 7 months is pretty special, especially for a foreigner. However, fortunately, the x-rays were clean; only a contusion. (HUGE SIGH OF RELIEF). Strangely enough, I wasn't nearly as concerned about breaking my toe as I had been about breaking my fingers, even though it would have been more dehabilitating. True, breaking a toe as a result of stupidity would have made me very frustrated, but the fact that this injury was now directly related in my mind with the catastrophe of losing a life, it wouldn't have phased me as much. I realize I would have lost probably another few weeks from IM training, but in the grand scheme of things, I would still be able to race, even if I was in the worst shape of my life. Moreso, I don't think my subconscious would ever let me feel frustrated or upset about the fact that I was minorly injured trying to save someone's life. I believe that sort frustration just does not exist.
It seems that Coach appreciated my actions more than he could put into words, because he politely insisted on paying for both the doctor's fee as well as the medicine, which was a bit humbling, but of course appreciated. As he was driving me to the bus stop (for I had to go back to school to sit at my desk), he said, "On behalf of Korean people, I thank you."
Because this entry (Part II) was divided up into three sittings, I feel that I wasn't able to convey the atmoshpere of love that surrounded me within those eventful 21 hours to the best of my ability. And as I am tired, hungry, and anxious to get started on the things that I have been putting back in order to finish this entry, I'm not going to attempt a particularly noteworthy sum-up at this point (don't get me wrong - putting all of this into writing has really helped me deal with the situation, but it is exhausting all the same). But in my heart and in my soul, I will never forget the love that enveloped me, that introduced me to feelings and knowledge of new, and for that I will always be able to look upon this experience knowing that faith can be found in the most seeminlgy-abysmal places, and can be found to guide a heavy heart out of despair, and to realize the conquering power of the heart.
I suppose that the fear I felt was just different from normal fear - absent of a racing heart mostly - so it was hard to recognize. But I do remember now that after falling back into the water, there were many thoughts that went through my head, many of them concerning whether or not I would make it up onto that rock. I don't care who you are, if you value your life or anything in it, I think feeling uncertainty about a possible-life-or-death outcome despite knowing you will put forth your best effort to fight, will result in a feeling that is meant to be captured in the meaning of 'fear.' It was almost a combination of complete persistence and mild-hopelessness, if you can imagine such a feeling, because I understand that the description doesn't make much sense at all.
(I'm saying this because I wanted to clarify that I am not as 'heroic' or 'fearless' as I may make myself out to be, or as you may make me out to be, in saying that I felt no fear. Because in reassessment, I think I was blinded by ignorance.)
Black goggles, light blue short-sleeved shirt, olive green pants, and pink socks - stuck to the emotionally-helpless body of a seemingly-uncomfortable shape of complete vertical asymetry (strangely enough, because I'm sure the body took the most comforting position at the time). After following Coach on four legs to a more safe, dry spot, this is the visual that remained situated, trembling, for the next few minutes. With the right foot flat on the rock, right arm resting on the knee to provide a temporary refuge for a heavy head, I let the emotions pour for a few moments until my soul decided to conjure enough strength to lift my eyes and search through my tears for the image that had just a few minutes ago been so close, so real.
I can't really say what I was looking for. I know that my mind was not contemplating going back in, and I wasn't looking for a sight to torture my thoughts. Maybe I was wondering where the waves had taken him. I also remember wanting to know where he was incase the ER team, which was quickly arriving, needed to know, so they could more quickly complete their task of retrieving the body - although I had absolutely no intention of trying to make any sounds reminiscent of words in the case that I could provide such information. More likely, I was looking for a something of substance - something that reminded me of the boy that had just been under my arms - to which I could say goodbye; to which I could send a piece of my heart.
After not much luck, my subconscious strength took hold and, with the help of my Coach, took me to retrieve my various strewn belongings. Mildly audible sobs replaced my breathing, and if I had made eye contact with anyone other than the boy's friends*, I think I would have been met by most of the eyes of the many onlookers who had been there to capture most of the scene. Luckily my mind did not entertain such an option, as I focused all my remaining energy to getting back up the cliff in my now-slippery shoes, with my eyes towards the ground, until we climbed over the barrier to the parking lot and made our way back to the car. I heard some words from various onlookers but in all honesty I don't think I would have understood any words coming from anyone other than my Coach at that time, no matter what the language.
(*My heart truly goes out to the boy's friends, because as I gave them my brief attention, their expressions of hardly any change in emotion signified a probable confusion, shock, and delay of processing the events. I wish to say nothing else about the friends other than I hope they put no blame in their minds for anything that they may have misconstrued about the situation.)
I got into the backseat of Coach's car and we drove to his home. As we were driving, my mind was somewhat paralyzed, unable to grasp the entirety of what had just transpired. I was also trying to be as quiet as possible because, although I know that Coach and his family are very intuned to my culture (as well as the fact that I may act differently due to culture even if they don't understand why), I wasn't sure how their culture dealt with such circumstances, so I'm glad that I was able to refrain from loud sobbing in the car for that reason. I was at an interim of sobbing fits, and was content to sit with my head in my hand, looking out the window as we passed through streets that looked familiar and yet strange, from the shade of a new perspective.
From the moment I emerged from the water, most of what I heard from Coach was a kind of 'sighing' and perhaps things reminiscent of 'oh my God,' although I can't remember exactly. In the car the 'sighs' continued (not often, but there), with nothing spoken much between us except for some 'should I get a blanket to put on the seat' type questions that I asked before getting into the car.
Soon after we started for his home, he called his wife (in a very calm voice, characteristic of him, but I could detect special softness in his tone at this time) and asked her to prepare a warm bath, and told her that we would be home soon. Since the word for bath/bathing sounds like the word 'to eat', I initially thought he was asking her to prepare dinner, but then as I realized what he was asking for, a feeling of warmth started to find its way into my wounded heart. It is from here that I think my healing began.
We got the the house, and I was a little worried about my mood. In Korea thus far, my mood has been a stable very-happy, especially around my Coach's family. They have never seen me enter their house, or enter a room or area, without a huge smile on my face. And I knew this was about to change. I knew that he didn't tell them exactly what happened either, but I'm sure that his wife knew from his phone call that something was very out of the ordinary, so I bet she prepared herself and my little bro for an abnormal meeting.
However, once I got inside and I saw my brother, it wasn't hard to put my troubles at least partially at bay and muster a smile. While the smile wasn't nearly as full as usual, it came with ease. If there is one thing I have learned from becoming an older-sibling figure (as well as a teacher), it is that kids are a special breed. Not only do they have a special energy that requires a different type of attention (and thus crippling the ability to ruminate in their presence), but they also don't have the capacity to comprehend many mature situations. My mind realized this without having to think about it, and while I was still obviously not the same enthusiastic, life-loving person that day as I normally am, my appearance was significantly less-traumatized when I saw his face.
Anyway, Coach and his wife directed me into the bathroom to relax. As I took off my wet clothes, I left on my bathing suit (which I had been wearing the whole time because I had swum before hand and not yet changed) as I climbed into the tub. I'm not sure why - maybe to attempt to wash away the experience of the past hour.
I sat in the warm water, head in hands, and allowed myself to sob again, but attempted to stifle the noise (again, partially because I wasn't sure of the culture, partially because of my little brother, and also just because I'm not the type of person to weep all out in front of others unless I am in their arms and then I am pretty much uncontrollable). However, I was aware of my surroundings, and aware of the time, and aware of the fact that I was using the only bathroom in their apartment, so I let about 10 minutes pass and then cleaned myself up and prepared to muster the strength to politely decline our usual Sunday dinner engagement.
After opening the door into the real world, once again it was easier to be more normal. There was a definite mood of mild apphrehension but nothing like I would probably have seen in the States or any other western countries. I walked out, set my bag of clothes down, and soon after told Coach that I thought it would be best if I went home. I'm not stupid - I know that I am more apt to ruminate about it if I am alone, but I also didn't want to ruminate about it in the presence of those that take such great care of me and ruin their afternoon, especially considering their culture might look down upon such brooding. (For the record, I am under the impression that Koreans do not brood as much, but probably do somewhat and let things go quicker. Also, Korean people generally do not show their emotions nearly as much as Americans do, so even if they were brooding you might not be able to tell. I don't mean to sound negative or judgmental towards Koreans in this way, I'm just stating observations and guesses. I actually think that one reason I am dealing with this situation as well as I believe I am is because my mood has become much more stable since living here as a result of their more peaceful nature.)
Coach consented to the premature trip home, but asked that I wait for him to take a shower so that he could take me there. As he had just driven 3+ hours that day (we had returned from Geoje Island early that morning), I didn't want him to have to drive even more when I could take a bus, but he gently insisted, so I complied. When he was in the shower, I played Jacks with my bro, laughing (although more sedated) and making various small talk. Coach's wife's mood was extremely stable (in the sense that it was just about as normal as it usually is) which was suprisingly not uncomfortable at all. But at one point, while 'playing' Jacks, she made a comment saying "don't think about it too much - it's not your fault", and without thinking my face contorted and tears started sprinting down my face. I turned away, wiped them on my arm, took a quick deep breath, and turned back, nearly composed. She then casually asked me if I wanted a tissue. It was a very interesting interchange, because her face didn't exhibit any sympathy at all (although I'm positive she felt for me), and I felt very comfortable and reassured. A smile followed soon after the tears and conversation was becoming easier and easier.
After Coach finished showering, everyone got up and started to leave. Although he said he was going to take me home, once we all got into the elevator I realized that that probably wasn't going to happen. While I still wanted to be alone, because no matter how much comfort they gave me I was still going to be traumatized to some degree, I of course would consent to having dinner with them if they knew the repercussions. And that's just what happened.
There was a decent amount of traffic so there was ample time to talk in the car. After a few minutes, I decided to get over myself and ask them what I was thinking. So I said, "If you were watching the situation that happened today, and you didn't know me, can you tell me honestly what you would have thought? I mean, I brought him to the rocks, which was clearly more dangerous than bringing him to shore. I know that Koreans are very honest. Do you think that people thought that that was a bad thing to do? Either way, it doesn't matter. I know they won't think all badly of me. I will just feel better if I know one way or the other."
After having merely asked the question and vocalized my concern, I immediately felt much better. Coach's wife said, "I think people thought you were brave, and that they were very thankful that you tried. Especially because you are a foreigner." Then she and Coach went on to say through a bit more elaboration that they both thought that I was very brave and that they were very thankful that I tried. I maintained my composure pretty well, acknowledging that my brother was sitting next to me, but also voiced a few of my concerns, talked it out a bit, shed a few silent tears, and shifted gears to talk about what kind of food we wanted to eat for dinner.
*I know that some of you might be wondering why Coach didn't go in after the boy (I posted a bit about this on a triathlon forum for a bit more support, and someone voiced that question), so I will address that now. We never talked about it, and I have to admit I didn't even consider this question until someone posed it on the forum. But after thinking about it, I believe or know the following things: a) I am a stronger swimmer than he is, especially in open water; b) I had my goggles with me and he did not; c) I had just swum in this water and thus knew without having to think that I could handle it; d) he does not have recent experience swimming in big waves. While it is true that his lifeguarding and CPR skills are more up-to-date than mine, I believed at the time (without having to consciously think about it) that I was the best option that this boy had at survival, and I believe that my Coach thought the same thing, for if he did not, I believe that he would not have allowed me to get into the water. I think many people think because he is my 'coach' (which, in fact, his relationship to me is not that of a traditional coach, something which can not be easily explained if you don't know our situation) as well as a man, that he should have been the one to jump in, and I do not agree.
Also, even if he were a better swimmer than I am, I would not fault him for not going in (let me include that he never persuaded me to go in by any means). The waves were very big, and the area had a lot of rocks around the peripheral, and it would have been somewhat dangerous for anyone to go in there, especially if they did not have full confidence in being able to battle the waves for their own life, never mind for another's as well. I hope that none of you judge him for not going in. In the end, in a situation like this, if someone has any doubts about whether or not to go in, I would (at least in hindsight) personally advise that they do not, because doubt can be a very dangerous factor in such an equation.*
As the day's events had left me feeling much less filtered than normal, I decided to utilize that feeling and ask about the status of my potential job as a triathlon coach in Korea for this upcoming fall (I felt that asking too many questions about it would be bothersome to him, especially since he was working very hard to make it happen, so I was originally planning to wait it out). I won't go into this conversation much, because it is the subject of my next entry, but I can say that it has a very exciting answer. If you want my advice, I'd tune in after a few days to read about it. :)
We ate our 낙지 볶음밥 (nakji bokkum bap, or spicy octopus and rice - one of my favorite meals) and discussed particulars of the job, and didn't talk much about the day's events, which was good for me. I initially hadn't wanted to go out because I thought that would be all I could think about, but after having addressed some of my concerns in the car and having a new exciting prospect on the horizon to ask questions about, I was able to put my feelings and internal images at bay.
As we finished our meal, I assumed they were going to take me home, although my mind was still unable to think about more than one thing at once so I wasn't really thinking about anything other than the present, which at that time was looking at an English comic book with little bro. However, when we got in the car, Coach asked me if I could see a movie with them, to which I agreed without consideration beyond wondering what time I gad to get up for work the next day.
I have to admit, they are very perspicacious. At no time did I feel like they had any plans to lure me away from my ruminative solitude, but I now believe that all along that was their intention - and they implemented it beautifully. Not once did they ask me with a sympathetic look if I wanted to be with people; not once did they suggest that being alone would make me feel worse; and not once did they make it obvious that they knew that this was the best thing for me and that my decision to want to go home was clearly the worse option. They merely seemed to sympathize with the torment that was going through my mind and quelled that torment with compassion and love; a love which from the eyes of an ordinary observer may have appeared nonexistent, but which I know in my heart was overwhelmingly present.
G.I. Joe actually turned out to be not too bad of a flick. Coach's wife told me that they wanted to see something else - something more happy - but no better option was playing at that theater (one of the other options was a movie about a tsunami... - but we had already seen it anyway :) ). As we sat in the theater eating our popsicles and waiting for the movie to start, I turned to them and thanked them for taking me out. "I know I said I wanted to go home, and I did. I didn't want to bum you guys out, because I knew I wasn't going to be in the best mood tonight. But I'm very thankful that you took me to dinner, and to this movie. I'm hardly thinking about it, and I already feel much better. So thank you, very much. I really appreciate it." They nodded, smiled, and briefly acknowledged their actions. And then I moved onto another topic of conversation.
As the movie ended and I stood up out of my seat, I realized that my foot was in a decent amount of pain. I had put a few bandaids on my ankle and my toe before dinner so I knew there were minor injuries, but my toe started to feel like it was broken. I limped out of the theater, and saw Coach limping as well (apparently he sustained a minor injury as well as he was running down the cliff). I told them that I thought I might have broken my toe, and took off my shoe to see the damage. Sure enough, it was purple and swollen. So they decided to take me to a hospital before going home.
The hospital fees ended up being much more expensive during extended hours, so after telling him that I was fine until morning, we left, and decided that I would call my school and tell them that I was going to come in late the next day so I could go to the hospital first thing. (I didn't have class anyway so all I would be skipping was fulfilling my contract for being at school for a certain amount of days per semester.) Coach told me to contact him in the morning so we could go to the hospital together.
The next morning, we met at 9:20a near his home. I of course thought we would be going straight to the hospital, because he told me that they opened at 9:30a. However, as we started walking together, he told me that before going to the hospital, he wanted to take me to the firestation to report my brave act. I was a little nervous, because I had already cried a few times that morning, and I knew that if I heard the story again (even if it was in Korean) I would start crying yet again, and I didn't want my Coach to think badly of me for not being able to contain my emotions. But of course, I consented.
We arrived at the fire station, and took a seat. Coach barely got out the words "yesterday, Igidae Park, middle school student", and tears started flowing. However, I tried my best to maintain some sort of composure, and made it through re-living the scene with a steady one-tear-per-cheek, with constant hand-grazing near the tear ducts. He told them the basics, and after he was finished, a few firemen escorted us to another room on the second floor. I regained my composure as we met some new Korean faces who had not yet seen my overt display of emotions, hoping to keep it that way. But yet agian, he told the story, in more detail, and with the back and forth glances from four firemen, a few tears forced themselves past my weak barrier of composure.
Luckily, two of the firemen were periodically interrupting Coach's flow with questions and comments. "Yea, we heard he was a 3rd grade middle student" (about 9th grade in the States). "We had heard that a foreigner jumped in after him, but the onlookers thought she was Russian." (All of this, of course, in Korean - and thus I can't say that my translations were perfect, but definitely the right gist.) They finished up talking, tried to talk to me a bit but with their English skills almost non-existent and my Korean skills, as much of my other mental capacities, paralyzed, I was not able to directly interact much with the firemen. However, before we left, they looked me right in the eye, and said what my eyes and heart know to be some version of, "We thank you so much for your bravery." After a few more words with Coach, they shook our hands, and we set off for the hospital.
Our destination was the same hospital that treated me for my burns. 'Great,' I thought. 'They're going to think I'm a psycho.' But, not as psycho as the doctor who treated me for my broken fingers would have assessed, because 3 broken digits in 7 months is pretty special, especially for a foreigner. However, fortunately, the x-rays were clean; only a contusion. (HUGE SIGH OF RELIEF). Strangely enough, I wasn't nearly as concerned about breaking my toe as I had been about breaking my fingers, even though it would have been more dehabilitating. True, breaking a toe as a result of stupidity would have made me very frustrated, but the fact that this injury was now directly related in my mind with the catastrophe of losing a life, it wouldn't have phased me as much. I realize I would have lost probably another few weeks from IM training, but in the grand scheme of things, I would still be able to race, even if I was in the worst shape of my life. Moreso, I don't think my subconscious would ever let me feel frustrated or upset about the fact that I was minorly injured trying to save someone's life. I believe that sort frustration just does not exist.
It seems that Coach appreciated my actions more than he could put into words, because he politely insisted on paying for both the doctor's fee as well as the medicine, which was a bit humbling, but of course appreciated. As he was driving me to the bus stop (for I had to go back to school to sit at my desk), he said, "On behalf of Korean people, I thank you."
Because this entry (Part II) was divided up into three sittings, I feel that I wasn't able to convey the atmoshpere of love that surrounded me within those eventful 21 hours to the best of my ability. And as I am tired, hungry, and anxious to get started on the things that I have been putting back in order to finish this entry, I'm not going to attempt a particularly noteworthy sum-up at this point (don't get me wrong - putting all of this into writing has really helped me deal with the situation, but it is exhausting all the same). But in my heart and in my soul, I will never forget the love that enveloped me, that introduced me to feelings and knowledge of new, and for that I will always be able to look upon this experience knowing that faith can be found in the most seeminlgy-abysmal places, and can be found to guide a heavy heart out of despair, and to realize the conquering power of the heart.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Unfortunate Circumstances Part I: The Incident
I had hoped that this post would be focused on the amazing weekend that our team had at the National Marine Sports Festival in Tongyeong, followed by a very nice respite on Geoje Island (the most beautiful place I have ever been), but alas - life had other plans, an experience which puts that albeit-wonderful experience in the backseat for storytelling-prominence.
Sunday, August 9th. We arrived in Busan from the weekend trip with spirits high. The athletes, Coaches, and some of the parents convened in a restaurant perfect for nurturing such spirits, for the food is absolutely divine. After eating and celebrating, the kids departed with their families, and I left with my Korean family to get ready for my Sunday open water swim.
Before swimming, a few of us went for a coffee by Gwangali Beach to sit and relax. The wind was abnormally strong, which was reinforced by the fact that the lifeguards at Gwangali came on the loudspeaker on two separate occasions to call people out of the water (personally, I don't think that complete evacuation was necessary, but when dealing with big waves and varying degrees of swimmers I suppose it's better to be safe than sorry). Luckily for me, my open water swim (OWS) was destined for Igidae Park, where the cautionary notices are merely visual, hence more open to interpretation.
On our way to Igidae, Coach reinforced the safety-first principle, and said that we have to take a look at the waves before deciding if swimming is safe. Although the waves were pretty big, I had swum in somewhat comparable waves the weekend before, and we agreed that my swimming ability could battle anything that the ocean had to offer me that day (take note of the singular.)
Today, instead of swimming back and forth in a selected inlet-area of choice, we decided that it would be more interesting to swim from point A to point B. So I started out at point A, the coast's first inlet, where many people were sitting and enjoying the waves in the shallow water, and swam perpendicularly for about 50 meters to get out of the way of the peripheral rocks. That 50 meters was much more difficult than the main leg (parallel to shore) as I caught a few developed crests smack on, but nothing a little salt-water-digestion can't fix.
After about 15 minutes, I completed the first horizontal-leg of my journey, and noticed Coach calling me into shore. This particular inlet was more crowded with rocks than point A, and although I have swum in that area before, the waves were so large that I had to pay close attention to where I was swimming and where the waves were taking me. The short perpendicular distance from ocean to shore was significantly more challenging that the opposite, because of the force of the waves was not directing me towards shore. In any case, it was no problem, and although Coach decided to cut my party short, I still had fun for the 18 or so minutes that I was out there, learning new tactics for open water swimming and enjoying the extra ride of the waves.
I exited the water and after dealing with a reprimand from an onlooker and many...looks...we headed back towards point A. As we got closer to the inlet, we saw some kids playing in the water (normal). However, after what seemed to be a few seconds, that 'few' that I saw (or envisioned that I saw) quickly became 'one', and the action no longer seemed to be 'playing.' Coach saw it too and while I started saying something like 'I think he needs help', Coach didn't seem to be listening, and we both started running down the cliff as quickly as we could (keeping safety in mind, of course).
Normal progressions must happen at an exponential speed when there are big waves, because it seemed that it was quite a short time between he and his friends playing in the water and his body to cease moving independently. As I climbed down to the shore, he was still moving, although his head was going under more frequently and while above water, remaining there for fewer seconds. The situation was becoming visibly more and more dire by the second, as I could tell from Coach's voice as I was climbing down, so I threw my jacket and all of its contents (goggles, cap, etc), to better utilize my hands. But as I threw off my shoes and attached the board to my ankle and prepared to dive in goggle-less, Coach was yelling at me, "Catie! You need your goggles! Where are your goggles?" Stupidly, I had chucked them down the cliff, not knowing exactly where, and, having known that, knew that although my attempt would be much more effective with goggles, I also knew that since we had now hit the point where the boy has stopped moving, every second was precious, and searching for the goggles would take away 10 or 15 possible moments towards saving him.
However, I listened to Coach, and got my goggles, and dove into a patch of white water. My experience freaking out in triathlon OWS (open water swims) for 5 years suddenly came in handy, because I was in a similar experience now - my heart thrashing, breathing labored -but had come to know this feeling well and knew I could conquer it. I sighted the body, and got there within what seemed to be a few strokes. I can't quite remember my emotional status and I instinctively placed his head under my arm (if I were asked to show at this moment what I did I might not remember exactly - I guess my past lifeguarding experience left a good impression), for now the board was useless since he no longer had independent movement of his limbs.
Although I wasn't making a plan in my head as I ran down, I can tell you that, if presented with the situation on paper (which obviously is not relevent here) I would never have advised someone to take a victim to slippery, sharp rocks as a substitute for land in order to try and save his life. But, unfortunately my ADHD mind was paralyzed from the moment I detected distress and was transformed into a completely one-track thought process: a fellow human-being is in trouble and I can help him - I must get there as soon as possible. Subconsciously, I knew that I had the skill to help this boy, and that my confidence (in my OWS) combined with a situation that was not overly dangerous in my assessment (made with what I believe to be a rational mind), left me with no conflicting emotions about whether or not to act. However, it removed my ability to think critically about the situation (which I'm sure is something that psychologists say happens to most people, and I'm not disputing it), and while I believe that my subconscious, pre-contact with the body, would have directed me towards shore, post-contact was a whole different situation.
His head is in my arms. A rock is within a few meters. At this point, with the waves seeming to come more frequently since the moment of contact, the shore seemed like a blur. We are surrounded by white water, and while I feel I am in control (or rather not out of control), I am infused with the belief that I can hoist him up onto the nearby rock (which could only at best be a brief intermediate safety zone), from which I would have to quickly transfer him (with an assumed helping hand) to a higher, more stable, less slippery rock, for this rock's budding surface was totally at the mercy of each crashing wave. But all of this 'reasoning' was interrupted by a crash, and a subsequent pulling force, which sucked the boy from under my arms. A bit frustrated but not much phased, I shook it off, and went after him again. Again he went under my arm, and with my 'reasoning' still resonating with possible success, I repeated the attempt. However, the next wave was not so forgiving, and not only tore him from my grasp, but also threw me tumbling into an extremely precarious situation.
Strangely, though, precariousness is not at all reflective of how I felt. I mean, for certain, I now felt the first feeling of being unsafe, but my thought process remained one-tracked and clear, and calm, and strategic. 'Shiiiiit. Ok you are no longer vertical. There are many rocks around you. Any second now you might feel a blow to your head, or leg, or arm, and if it is your head, you might only have a second to react, if any at all. Should I relax my body?' That last thought entered my head because I am under the impression that if your muscles are less tense, at least during a car crash, you are less apt to sustain more serious injury - I believe there is a statistic where people who are drunk (e.g. drunk drivers) often don't get as injured as their sober counterparts, sadly enough. Maybe I'm wrong, but in any case, as that thought started to develop, I felt a breeze on my face, and heard my Coach yelling at me to forget about the boy and get out of the water.
I have to admit, at this point, I had stopped thinking about the boy, for as I opened my eyes, I saw a new obstacle: the waves decided to introduce me to a nearby cove by relocating me from one side of the rock to the other. As a nice surprise, this cove was omnipresent with white water, collecting only the best of the best of the waves' fury. After a few more seconds (a second being an amount of time that can harbor thoughts and feelings that could normally occur over hours) of uncertainty and dedication to getting a grip on the rock where my Coach's hand was extended, I thought, as you might, that climbing up out of water would be no problem - but the waves had a bit more experience to throw my way, and once again lured me back into the cove for one last bout of uncertainty. The feeling was so strange, because I wasn't afraid, but I wasn't confident that I would get back onto land. I was relatively calm, and confident that I would fight my best to get out of there. And that I did.
After the final pull of the ocean, I put my hand back on the mossy, shelly rock, grabbed Coach's hand, and pushed on my hand that was placed on the rock as to use as little pulling-in-the-direction-of-the-water motion as possible (my feet were useless as the waves made underwater-grippage extremely difficult). I got my torso out of the water and onto the rock, and quickly pushed the rest of my body onto the rock. And there, once my mind registered my body's safety, the thrashing of the waves transfered to my body, as I started convulsing in tears.
It's interesting to think about how your mind will function if you are ever in a situation like this one. Like I told my parents this morning as I told them the story, a few years ago, if the same situation happened and my actions were the same, I would probably have gone into the water hoping to be seen as brave - aka with selfish motives. But my train of thought and the way by body reacted to it amazes me - here I'm not talking about the going in trying to help him part, but the composure which my mind maintained in the face of possible...I don't want to say death, but maybe, 'rock-smackage', and how my thoughts immediately went from solely the boy's safety, none of my own, to solely that of my own, and then upon realizing my safety, a complete physical and emotional uncontrollable response to mourn the loss of a potential life saved.
I'm exhausted having come this far writing, although this post has not yet been accompanied by tears (perhaps because I'm not writing freely but trying to write somewhat well, which stalls my normal flood of emotions). But the rest of the story is less (although not devoid of) one of sorrow and pain than it is of friendship and love, so rest assured that lighter moods await in Part II.
Sunday, August 9th. We arrived in Busan from the weekend trip with spirits high. The athletes, Coaches, and some of the parents convened in a restaurant perfect for nurturing such spirits, for the food is absolutely divine. After eating and celebrating, the kids departed with their families, and I left with my Korean family to get ready for my Sunday open water swim.
Before swimming, a few of us went for a coffee by Gwangali Beach to sit and relax. The wind was abnormally strong, which was reinforced by the fact that the lifeguards at Gwangali came on the loudspeaker on two separate occasions to call people out of the water (personally, I don't think that complete evacuation was necessary, but when dealing with big waves and varying degrees of swimmers I suppose it's better to be safe than sorry). Luckily for me, my open water swim (OWS) was destined for Igidae Park, where the cautionary notices are merely visual, hence more open to interpretation.
On our way to Igidae, Coach reinforced the safety-first principle, and said that we have to take a look at the waves before deciding if swimming is safe. Although the waves were pretty big, I had swum in somewhat comparable waves the weekend before, and we agreed that my swimming ability could battle anything that the ocean had to offer me that day (take note of the singular.)
Today, instead of swimming back and forth in a selected inlet-area of choice, we decided that it would be more interesting to swim from point A to point B. So I started out at point A, the coast's first inlet, where many people were sitting and enjoying the waves in the shallow water, and swam perpendicularly for about 50 meters to get out of the way of the peripheral rocks. That 50 meters was much more difficult than the main leg (parallel to shore) as I caught a few developed crests smack on, but nothing a little salt-water-digestion can't fix.
After about 15 minutes, I completed the first horizontal-leg of my journey, and noticed Coach calling me into shore. This particular inlet was more crowded with rocks than point A, and although I have swum in that area before, the waves were so large that I had to pay close attention to where I was swimming and where the waves were taking me. The short perpendicular distance from ocean to shore was significantly more challenging that the opposite, because of the force of the waves was not directing me towards shore. In any case, it was no problem, and although Coach decided to cut my party short, I still had fun for the 18 or so minutes that I was out there, learning new tactics for open water swimming and enjoying the extra ride of the waves.
I exited the water and after dealing with a reprimand from an onlooker and many...looks...we headed back towards point A. As we got closer to the inlet, we saw some kids playing in the water (normal). However, after what seemed to be a few seconds, that 'few' that I saw (or envisioned that I saw) quickly became 'one', and the action no longer seemed to be 'playing.' Coach saw it too and while I started saying something like 'I think he needs help', Coach didn't seem to be listening, and we both started running down the cliff as quickly as we could (keeping safety in mind, of course).
Normal progressions must happen at an exponential speed when there are big waves, because it seemed that it was quite a short time between he and his friends playing in the water and his body to cease moving independently. As I climbed down to the shore, he was still moving, although his head was going under more frequently and while above water, remaining there for fewer seconds. The situation was becoming visibly more and more dire by the second, as I could tell from Coach's voice as I was climbing down, so I threw my jacket and all of its contents (goggles, cap, etc), to better utilize my hands. But as I threw off my shoes and attached the board to my ankle and prepared to dive in goggle-less, Coach was yelling at me, "Catie! You need your goggles! Where are your goggles?" Stupidly, I had chucked them down the cliff, not knowing exactly where, and, having known that, knew that although my attempt would be much more effective with goggles, I also knew that since we had now hit the point where the boy has stopped moving, every second was precious, and searching for the goggles would take away 10 or 15 possible moments towards saving him.
However, I listened to Coach, and got my goggles, and dove into a patch of white water. My experience freaking out in triathlon OWS (open water swims) for 5 years suddenly came in handy, because I was in a similar experience now - my heart thrashing, breathing labored -but had come to know this feeling well and knew I could conquer it. I sighted the body, and got there within what seemed to be a few strokes. I can't quite remember my emotional status and I instinctively placed his head under my arm (if I were asked to show at this moment what I did I might not remember exactly - I guess my past lifeguarding experience left a good impression), for now the board was useless since he no longer had independent movement of his limbs.
Although I wasn't making a plan in my head as I ran down, I can tell you that, if presented with the situation on paper (which obviously is not relevent here) I would never have advised someone to take a victim to slippery, sharp rocks as a substitute for land in order to try and save his life. But, unfortunately my ADHD mind was paralyzed from the moment I detected distress and was transformed into a completely one-track thought process: a fellow human-being is in trouble and I can help him - I must get there as soon as possible. Subconsciously, I knew that I had the skill to help this boy, and that my confidence (in my OWS) combined with a situation that was not overly dangerous in my assessment (made with what I believe to be a rational mind), left me with no conflicting emotions about whether or not to act. However, it removed my ability to think critically about the situation (which I'm sure is something that psychologists say happens to most people, and I'm not disputing it), and while I believe that my subconscious, pre-contact with the body, would have directed me towards shore, post-contact was a whole different situation.
His head is in my arms. A rock is within a few meters. At this point, with the waves seeming to come more frequently since the moment of contact, the shore seemed like a blur. We are surrounded by white water, and while I feel I am in control (or rather not out of control), I am infused with the belief that I can hoist him up onto the nearby rock (which could only at best be a brief intermediate safety zone), from which I would have to quickly transfer him (with an assumed helping hand) to a higher, more stable, less slippery rock, for this rock's budding surface was totally at the mercy of each crashing wave. But all of this 'reasoning' was interrupted by a crash, and a subsequent pulling force, which sucked the boy from under my arms. A bit frustrated but not much phased, I shook it off, and went after him again. Again he went under my arm, and with my 'reasoning' still resonating with possible success, I repeated the attempt. However, the next wave was not so forgiving, and not only tore him from my grasp, but also threw me tumbling into an extremely precarious situation.
Strangely, though, precariousness is not at all reflective of how I felt. I mean, for certain, I now felt the first feeling of being unsafe, but my thought process remained one-tracked and clear, and calm, and strategic. 'Shiiiiit. Ok you are no longer vertical. There are many rocks around you. Any second now you might feel a blow to your head, or leg, or arm, and if it is your head, you might only have a second to react, if any at all. Should I relax my body?' That last thought entered my head because I am under the impression that if your muscles are less tense, at least during a car crash, you are less apt to sustain more serious injury - I believe there is a statistic where people who are drunk (e.g. drunk drivers) often don't get as injured as their sober counterparts, sadly enough. Maybe I'm wrong, but in any case, as that thought started to develop, I felt a breeze on my face, and heard my Coach yelling at me to forget about the boy and get out of the water.
I have to admit, at this point, I had stopped thinking about the boy, for as I opened my eyes, I saw a new obstacle: the waves decided to introduce me to a nearby cove by relocating me from one side of the rock to the other. As a nice surprise, this cove was omnipresent with white water, collecting only the best of the best of the waves' fury. After a few more seconds (a second being an amount of time that can harbor thoughts and feelings that could normally occur over hours) of uncertainty and dedication to getting a grip on the rock where my Coach's hand was extended, I thought, as you might, that climbing up out of water would be no problem - but the waves had a bit more experience to throw my way, and once again lured me back into the cove for one last bout of uncertainty. The feeling was so strange, because I wasn't afraid, but I wasn't confident that I would get back onto land. I was relatively calm, and confident that I would fight my best to get out of there. And that I did.
After the final pull of the ocean, I put my hand back on the mossy, shelly rock, grabbed Coach's hand, and pushed on my hand that was placed on the rock as to use as little pulling-in-the-direction-of-the-water motion as possible (my feet were useless as the waves made underwater-grippage extremely difficult). I got my torso out of the water and onto the rock, and quickly pushed the rest of my body onto the rock. And there, once my mind registered my body's safety, the thrashing of the waves transfered to my body, as I started convulsing in tears.
It's interesting to think about how your mind will function if you are ever in a situation like this one. Like I told my parents this morning as I told them the story, a few years ago, if the same situation happened and my actions were the same, I would probably have gone into the water hoping to be seen as brave - aka with selfish motives. But my train of thought and the way by body reacted to it amazes me - here I'm not talking about the going in trying to help him part, but the composure which my mind maintained in the face of possible...I don't want to say death, but maybe, 'rock-smackage', and how my thoughts immediately went from solely the boy's safety, none of my own, to solely that of my own, and then upon realizing my safety, a complete physical and emotional uncontrollable response to mourn the loss of a potential life saved.
I'm exhausted having come this far writing, although this post has not yet been accompanied by tears (perhaps because I'm not writing freely but trying to write somewhat well, which stalls my normal flood of emotions). But the rest of the story is less (although not devoid of) one of sorrow and pain than it is of friendship and love, so rest assured that lighter moods await in Part II.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Days Winding Down
Ugh. So sad.
Especially since this Sunday was one of the most amazing normal Sundays of my life.
After resting all day Saturday (watched-5-movies resting, so like super legit did nothing except relaxed and caught up on popular culture), I arrived at the Yacht Club with a warm welcome from a magnificent day. We did an easy cycling warm up for about 30 minutes, and then did a team ocean-swim, which was fantastic. This was the first team ocean swim (like everyone together - we had done OWS (open water swim) with a few of the kids before, but usually only the ones who were going to be racing soon. So this was nice to be able to do it with everyone.
After that, we did a cool down on the bike (everything was at the Yacht Club), and set out for an amazing afternoon. Coach and fam and I went to Igidae (the natural love of my life) for the best open water swimming I have ever experienced, thanks partially to the amazing weather, partially to the big waves, and partially to the genius of Total Immersion (if you are a swimming or swimmer-aspirant I highly highly recommend checking out Terry Laughlin's books / DVDs - it is the best money I have spent in the sports market). I'm not even going to try and go into how amazing this swim was because I have studying to do and I don't have time to be sucked into a profession of my naked soul, which could turn into a mini epic (that right there should tell you that it was an experience I will never forget).
After swimming, we hung out at Igidae for a bit, and then went back to the house. I was exhausted, likely from a mixture of sun and elation, so I nearly laid down for a snooze. But as I've been progressively learning, older siblings don't have nearly as much quiet time as younger siblings or only childs (I'm not complaining about this at all though - because I love Coach's son as if he were truly my brother - just stating an observation :) ). While I could have gone into another room to rest, I decided to muster up my remaining energy to attempt to play Jacks - which didn't work out too well as my body was mostly horizontal in my attempt. We next decided to write some stories. He went on to write a story about a king - I think the title of his story was "King's Poker" (very creative I thought), and I went on to write a story about "사람은 파랑색 구두가 있습니다 (a man has blue shoes)". I got to 1/2 way into the first sentence and figured out that my desired expressions were too complicated in my soon-to-be second language, so I started writing random sentences. They actually were somewhat reminiscent of some of my previous blogs in the sense that they are completely stream-of-consciousness (although I'm not sure if people with ADD, or similar symptoms, should be allowed to write in stream-of-consciousness...). But anyway - in my tired state, little bro got a kick out of my 'story.'
After that debacle, we watched some Simpsons, which was fun! I haven't watched much of that show. One of the episodes was mediocre, but the second was actually really entertaining - we had fun watching them. A bit after that, we left to eat at one of my favorite restaurants for 오리불고기 (duck) and 시래기 (dried radish leaves soup-ish thing - soooo good).
This particular dinner was a very interesting cultural experience. For the first time since I have been in Korea, there was a very loud group of people at a table in the restaurant. Surprisingly, I didn't notive it at first, probably because I was drained from the awesome day. But I did hear the waitress tell them to be quieter, which I had never heard a waitress say to a customer before. But a few seconds after, I could tell something was off by the looks on Coach and Coach's wife's expressions. Apparently the men were not only being loud but using bad language too, and I saw a few of the other customers get up from their tables to come around the corner to stare at the men making all of the noise. Apparently that is very rude in this country, which makes sense, because overall this country seems to be quite representative of it's English nickname "The Land of the Morning Calm". When the men left, I was able to greater appreciate the calm atmosphere that the general Korean ambiance is generally comprised of, and I have to say, it was a wonderful reminder. As a tangent thought, in homely restaurants like that one (particularly when most of the tables are low to the ground with no chairs), it almost feels like you are eating a meal with your extended family (assuming the unorthodox behavior is absent).
Anyway. Before getting back to my Korean studies, I want to briefly comment on a few movies that I saw this weekend while resting.
Phantom of the Opera - awesome movie. If you haven't already seen it and don't loathe musicals (and if you haven't seen a movie musical other than Mamma Mia your opinion doesn't count because it is by-no-fault-of-your-own tainted (not to say Mamma Mia was horrible but it's certainly not a classic)) I would highly suggest renting it - very very good movie-musical.
Mystic River - now one of my favorite movies. Awesome, awesome, awesome. Sean Penn is an amazing actor. As is Tim Robbins.
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang - I saw this a few weeks ago actually but it was so good that it stuck in my mind. If you don't like thrillers, then forget it. But, Robert Downey Jr. and Val Kilmer make a fantastic pair, and are both quite funny. (Yup, you heard me right - Val Kilmer and funny was used in the same sentence. Actually more accurate is hilarious. My favorite Val Kilmer performance, and Top Gun is one of my favorite movies.)
Oh man, no time. Alright - well, I hope I was able to enrich some of your theatrical educations. :D Off to study!
Especially since this Sunday was one of the most amazing normal Sundays of my life.
After resting all day Saturday (watched-5-movies resting, so like super legit did nothing except relaxed and caught up on popular culture), I arrived at the Yacht Club with a warm welcome from a magnificent day. We did an easy cycling warm up for about 30 minutes, and then did a team ocean-swim, which was fantastic. This was the first team ocean swim (like everyone together - we had done OWS (open water swim) with a few of the kids before, but usually only the ones who were going to be racing soon. So this was nice to be able to do it with everyone.
After that, we did a cool down on the bike (everything was at the Yacht Club), and set out for an amazing afternoon. Coach and fam and I went to Igidae (the natural love of my life) for the best open water swimming I have ever experienced, thanks partially to the amazing weather, partially to the big waves, and partially to the genius of Total Immersion (if you are a swimming or swimmer-aspirant I highly highly recommend checking out Terry Laughlin's books / DVDs - it is the best money I have spent in the sports market). I'm not even going to try and go into how amazing this swim was because I have studying to do and I don't have time to be sucked into a profession of my naked soul, which could turn into a mini epic (that right there should tell you that it was an experience I will never forget).
After swimming, we hung out at Igidae for a bit, and then went back to the house. I was exhausted, likely from a mixture of sun and elation, so I nearly laid down for a snooze. But as I've been progressively learning, older siblings don't have nearly as much quiet time as younger siblings or only childs (I'm not complaining about this at all though - because I love Coach's son as if he were truly my brother - just stating an observation :) ). While I could have gone into another room to rest, I decided to muster up my remaining energy to attempt to play Jacks - which didn't work out too well as my body was mostly horizontal in my attempt. We next decided to write some stories. He went on to write a story about a king - I think the title of his story was "King's Poker" (very creative I thought), and I went on to write a story about "사람은 파랑색 구두가 있습니다 (a man has blue shoes)". I got to 1/2 way into the first sentence and figured out that my desired expressions were too complicated in my soon-to-be second language, so I started writing random sentences. They actually were somewhat reminiscent of some of my previous blogs in the sense that they are completely stream-of-consciousness (although I'm not sure if people with ADD, or similar symptoms, should be allowed to write in stream-of-consciousness...). But anyway - in my tired state, little bro got a kick out of my 'story.'
After that debacle, we watched some Simpsons, which was fun! I haven't watched much of that show. One of the episodes was mediocre, but the second was actually really entertaining - we had fun watching them. A bit after that, we left to eat at one of my favorite restaurants for 오리불고기 (duck) and 시래기 (dried radish leaves soup-ish thing - soooo good).
This particular dinner was a very interesting cultural experience. For the first time since I have been in Korea, there was a very loud group of people at a table in the restaurant. Surprisingly, I didn't notive it at first, probably because I was drained from the awesome day. But I did hear the waitress tell them to be quieter, which I had never heard a waitress say to a customer before. But a few seconds after, I could tell something was off by the looks on Coach and Coach's wife's expressions. Apparently the men were not only being loud but using bad language too, and I saw a few of the other customers get up from their tables to come around the corner to stare at the men making all of the noise. Apparently that is very rude in this country, which makes sense, because overall this country seems to be quite representative of it's English nickname "The Land of the Morning Calm". When the men left, I was able to greater appreciate the calm atmosphere that the general Korean ambiance is generally comprised of, and I have to say, it was a wonderful reminder. As a tangent thought, in homely restaurants like that one (particularly when most of the tables are low to the ground with no chairs), it almost feels like you are eating a meal with your extended family (assuming the unorthodox behavior is absent).
Anyway. Before getting back to my Korean studies, I want to briefly comment on a few movies that I saw this weekend while resting.
Phantom of the Opera - awesome movie. If you haven't already seen it and don't loathe musicals (and if you haven't seen a movie musical other than Mamma Mia your opinion doesn't count because it is by-no-fault-of-your-own tainted (not to say Mamma Mia was horrible but it's certainly not a classic)) I would highly suggest renting it - very very good movie-musical.
Mystic River - now one of my favorite movies. Awesome, awesome, awesome. Sean Penn is an amazing actor. As is Tim Robbins.
Kiss Kiss Bang Bang - I saw this a few weeks ago actually but it was so good that it stuck in my mind. If you don't like thrillers, then forget it. But, Robert Downey Jr. and Val Kilmer make a fantastic pair, and are both quite funny. (Yup, you heard me right - Val Kilmer and funny was used in the same sentence. Actually more accurate is hilarious. My favorite Val Kilmer performance, and Top Gun is one of my favorite movies.)
Oh man, no time. Alright - well, I hope I was able to enrich some of your theatrical educations. :D Off to study!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
46 More Days
I really need to start taking more pictures...
Forty-six more days until I go to the States. I'm both psyched and uneasy about this. I'm of course super psyched to see my fam and friends, but there are certain elements of The Land of the Morning Calm that I have grown to love and which have come to serve as a great respite. But nothing lasts forever, and the future (at least for me) is and always will be uncertain, so I'm not going to dwell on anything just yet.
At the moment I am preparing to watch Dr. No, or Bond #1. I'm very interested to know how I will like it; I've always shyed away from the Bond movies because I think I saw part of Goldeneye at a strange time in my life and always associated that one experience with all Bond movies and thus concluded that I would never choose to watch them at liberty. However, recently I feel that I should give them another shot.
Today I went to the Korean Office of Immigration to extend my visa, because many people in the EPIK program were put in the nonsensical situation of having our visas expire less than a month before our contract is up. To make this situation even more absurd, we are technically required to pay 30,000 won in order to extend our visa if the extention is for purposes of working, whereas if the extention was for sightseeing, there would be no fee. !!! Luckily the woman there liked my co teacher and I got out of that situation, but honestly...I see no sense in that situation. EPIK really should make an arrangement with the government such that our visas can expire the last day of our contract, which for each bunch of new teachers who come over each semester, is usually the same day.
Enough whining.
Oh, and I want to share this quote with you that I saw on beginnertriathlete.com while reading a forum about freaky things that happen at pools (I have a lot more free time now that I am officially benched for '3-6 weeks'...if I had only listened to the sense in myself and strength trained like a smart athlete this wouldn't have happened!) and I though it was fantastic:
"Practice doesn't make perfect. Perfect practice makes perfect. Crap practice only makes
you a crapmaster." Mark Fleischman
Although I believe the first two sentences should be attributed to Vince Lombardi.
Anyways. Keep that in mind when you are practicing next time.
Although it would be pretty cool to be able to say that you are a crapmaster.
Forty-six more days until I go to the States. I'm both psyched and uneasy about this. I'm of course super psyched to see my fam and friends, but there are certain elements of The Land of the Morning Calm that I have grown to love and which have come to serve as a great respite. But nothing lasts forever, and the future (at least for me) is and always will be uncertain, so I'm not going to dwell on anything just yet.
At the moment I am preparing to watch Dr. No, or Bond #1. I'm very interested to know how I will like it; I've always shyed away from the Bond movies because I think I saw part of Goldeneye at a strange time in my life and always associated that one experience with all Bond movies and thus concluded that I would never choose to watch them at liberty. However, recently I feel that I should give them another shot.
Today I went to the Korean Office of Immigration to extend my visa, because many people in the EPIK program were put in the nonsensical situation of having our visas expire less than a month before our contract is up. To make this situation even more absurd, we are technically required to pay 30,000 won in order to extend our visa if the extention is for purposes of working, whereas if the extention was for sightseeing, there would be no fee. !!! Luckily the woman there liked my co teacher and I got out of that situation, but honestly...I see no sense in that situation. EPIK really should make an arrangement with the government such that our visas can expire the last day of our contract, which for each bunch of new teachers who come over each semester, is usually the same day.
Enough whining.
Oh, and I want to share this quote with you that I saw on beginnertriathlete.com while reading a forum about freaky things that happen at pools (I have a lot more free time now that I am officially benched for '3-6 weeks'...if I had only listened to the sense in myself and strength trained like a smart athlete this wouldn't have happened!) and I though it was fantastic:
"Practice doesn't make perfect. Perfect practice makes perfect. Crap practice only makes
you a crapmaster." Mark Fleischman
Although I believe the first two sentences should be attributed to Vince Lombardi.
Anyways. Keep that in mind when you are practicing next time.
Although it would be pretty cool to be able to say that you are a crapmaster.
Friday, July 3, 2009
I Can't Believe It's Already July!
I can't believe it's been a whole month since I last posted. Time is going by so fast.
Since early June, a lot has happened, but in the extreme tightness of time I'm only going to attempt to recall a few, one being the move.
With a little over 2 months to go, my school decided to move me from my old apartment to a different, better, more comfortable one. The move itself was of course a big hassle, and it took me out of commission for a few days (especially since during the move I was in the middle of a minor-ish injury which packing and moving all of my stuff up 4 flights of stairs did not alleviate), but now I am a lot more comfortable, despite the fact that it is about half of the size of my old apartment. It is soo much more quiet here - I almost fell asleep unpacking my first night! It's wonderful.
The only 'downfall' is that I have to take a bus to school every morning. I actually love riding the bus, and it takes about the same amount of time to get to school in the morning as it did walking from my old apartment, but I do have to pay, but it is definitely worth it for me. I'm even within walking distance from PNU so I have much better access to great running routes and a track, which I am pumped about.
Other than the move, I've been enduring a minor injury which I could easily run through, but I am concerned that it will get worse and put me out for much longer. So I have been postponing the scheduled 10 x 800m track workout which I was supposed to do a week and a half ago. Coach wants me to try and hit 3:00 - 3:05 (he is thinking more towards the low end, and I am hoping, but I'd rather set a reachable goal and be pleasantly surprised at this point in my training). The last workout I did of 15 x 400m at 85s (that was the target and I hit an average of 84.2 which I was super excited about) was over 2 weeks ago and I am really eager to see how this one will turn out. I am hoping to hit it up tomorrow as long as my injury continues to subside well.
I bought my ticket to the States! August 31. So...that's exciting! I'm not sure exactly what is going to happen after I get back. There is a good chance I might have a job in Korea after I do Kona and my sister's wedding (!), but I'm not completely sure. I kind of like not knowing though. Everything will work out, I'm confident.
And with that, I have to get back to stretching and resting. All those of you who may be reading this from the States, hang in there with the rain! Maybe make the best of it by doing something fun like taking a shower outside (with a bathing suit on:) ). That would probably be really interesting!
Since early June, a lot has happened, but in the extreme tightness of time I'm only going to attempt to recall a few, one being the move.
With a little over 2 months to go, my school decided to move me from my old apartment to a different, better, more comfortable one. The move itself was of course a big hassle, and it took me out of commission for a few days (especially since during the move I was in the middle of a minor-ish injury which packing and moving all of my stuff up 4 flights of stairs did not alleviate), but now I am a lot more comfortable, despite the fact that it is about half of the size of my old apartment. It is soo much more quiet here - I almost fell asleep unpacking my first night! It's wonderful.
The only 'downfall' is that I have to take a bus to school every morning. I actually love riding the bus, and it takes about the same amount of time to get to school in the morning as it did walking from my old apartment, but I do have to pay, but it is definitely worth it for me. I'm even within walking distance from PNU so I have much better access to great running routes and a track, which I am pumped about.
Other than the move, I've been enduring a minor injury which I could easily run through, but I am concerned that it will get worse and put me out for much longer. So I have been postponing the scheduled 10 x 800m track workout which I was supposed to do a week and a half ago. Coach wants me to try and hit 3:00 - 3:05 (he is thinking more towards the low end, and I am hoping, but I'd rather set a reachable goal and be pleasantly surprised at this point in my training). The last workout I did of 15 x 400m at 85s (that was the target and I hit an average of 84.2 which I was super excited about) was over 2 weeks ago and I am really eager to see how this one will turn out. I am hoping to hit it up tomorrow as long as my injury continues to subside well.
I bought my ticket to the States! August 31. So...that's exciting! I'm not sure exactly what is going to happen after I get back. There is a good chance I might have a job in Korea after I do Kona and my sister's wedding (!), but I'm not completely sure. I kind of like not knowing though. Everything will work out, I'm confident.
And with that, I have to get back to stretching and resting. All those of you who may be reading this from the States, hang in there with the rain! Maybe make the best of it by doing something fun like taking a shower outside (with a bathing suit on:) ). That would probably be really interesting!
Thursday, June 4, 2009
Training Galore; Track-Lane Dissection
I'm not even going to try and recall what I have been doing the past few weeks (although it wouldn't be difficult to write about because I have everything pretty meticulously documented, but I don't want to bore) - basically, I've been amazingly busy.
I've actually never been this busy before - I'm finding myself mentally slipping in the sense that I am permitting 7 hours (sometime 6.8) a night in order to get everything done. However, for me, mentally accepting changes like this, changes which would normally really throw my training and maybe even physical health off, is the key to not getting sick. I am being extra vigilant in monitoring my body, so if extra rest is absolutely necessary, I will take it; but - I find myself in new territory lately due to a few decently-busy weeks with non-training activities (which normally would be fine) in addition to my metamorphous training.
Since my decision to accept my spot in Kona for Ironman Hawaii, I've started a tome of a training journal solely for Kona (I've had ones before which have spanned over years, and the notebooks have been maybe 1/3 as thick). I'm keeping track of everything I normally do, like workout duration and mileage and such, but I have added heart rate information, very detailed descriptions of workouts (even made sheets for interval workouts in Excel so I can save space and staple them in the notebook), nutrition log on the page opposite of the corresponding day's workouts where I keep track of food eaten, what time of day, the rate of hunger I felt, as well as sleep and weight - so I can see all of the day's training information at one time. Additionally, I have started calculating my weekly body fat % using three different formulas (they do not all yield the same number so I want an accurate range). That is just the main part of the training log.
In the back, I have written about 15 swim workouts to which I can refer (and save space when writing descriptions of my workouts in the daily log) when I am planning my workouts (oh yea - I plan my workouts about 2 weeks in advance now too, according to how my training is going and how my monthly goals are progressing). I have cut out (or printed from the internet) many different inspiring, funny, motivational, nutritional, and in-any-other-way informative articles from magazines and stapled them to pages in back (I even printed out some Kona race reports from years back which I am using for huge motivation and inspiration). And finally, the latest additions: calculating heart rate zones (from Zone 1 (least effort put forth that will in some way benefit the athlete, usually in the high 120s range) to Zone 5 (VO2 max)) and how my body will benefit from training in each of these different zones; race times from the past few Kona Ironmans in my age group as well as the 25-29 age group (where I will be next year! I need to start thinking ahead.. :) ) as well as race times from other Ironmans where the age group winners/leaders qualified; and just today, the distances around the track in each of the different lanes (I'm really pumped about this one).
So I will just lay it out for you incase anyone reading has also been curious but not so curious as to actually figure it out - but I calculated the amount of meters run in each of the lanes for one lap, and then with that information calculated the dividing factor for each lane so as to get my mile pace (or km pace -I did both, ha) quickly without having to think about how many meters I am running. I'll write out the formulas (I checked the first one with another calculation to make sure it was right, although they got there a different way, but the numbers are still the same) to show what many probably feel I have been wasting my life on. Here we go:
Track-Lane Distances:
Formula to calculate the distance in a lane:
(Track-Lane Distance) = (2(pi)) (R + 1.25(L-1))
where R = the radius of the track (which I calculated to be ~63.7m from knowing its circumference), L = lane #, and 1.25 = the width in meters of each lane (which I took to be true from numerous sources online). Of course, this is assuming that the athlete is running as close to the left as the lane will allow. This formula gives the following values:
Distance in lane 8: 2(3.14...) (63.7 + 7(1.25)) = 454.7m
Distance in lane 7: 2(3.14...) (63.7 + 6(1.25)) = 447.13m
Distance in lane 6: 2(3.14...) (63.7 + 5(1.25)) = 439.28m
Distance in lane 5: 2(3.14...) (63.7 + 4(1.25)) = 431.4m
Distance in lane 4: 2(3.14...) (63.7 + 3(1.25)) = 423.5m
Distance in lane 3: 2(3.14...) (63.7 + 2(1.25)) = 415.7m
Distance in lane 2: 2(3.14...) (63.7 + 1(1.25)) = 407.9m
Distance in lane 1: 2(3.14...) (63.7 + 0(1.25)) = 400m!
(*The significant figures are whatever I felt to be most useful considering the numbers following in the hundredths and thousandths spots - and of course these are not exact because I wasn't using pi exactly, and the radius is a little less than 63.7m, but for all intensive purposes it is useful for what I want to know :). If you are one who needs the exact values, then you are too intense for me. I just round my times up so that I think that I am slower than is probably true, and make that motivation to go faster :) ).
So, if I am running 2:20 per lap in the 8th lane (which is not extremely easy for me and it was frustrating me a little because I thought I was running about 9 min miles or a little less at a more-than-warm-up-pace effort), I take the total meters over 4 laps in lane 4 (1818.8m) and divide that by 1609m (the number of meters in a mile) to get the dividing factor for lane 8 (which is 1.13) in order to get mile pace (where the dividing factor per km would just be 1.82 after dividing 1818.8 by 1000).
The equation for finding the Mile-Pace-Equivalent Dividing Factor (described above) is:
(Mile-Pace-Equivalent Dividing Factor) = 4D / 1609
where D = the above-mentioned Track-Lane Distance. The Dividing-Factors are as follows:
MPE Dividing Factor in lane 8: 1.13
MPE Dividing Factor in lane 7: 1.11
MPE Dividing Factor in lane 6: 1.09
MPE Dividing Factor in lane 5: 1.07
MPE Dividing Factor in lane 4: 1.05
MPE Dividing Factor in lane 3: 1.03
MPE Dividing Factor in lane 2: 1.01
(MPE Dividing Factor in lane 1: 1)
*If you want the KPE Dividing Factor, you only have to find the Track Lane Distance, multiply that by 4, and divide by 1000 (4D / 1000).
(Lane 8 = 1.82 Kilometer-Pace-Equivalent Dividing Factor)
(Lane 7 = 1.79 KPE Dividing Factor)
(Lane 6 = 1.76 KPE Dividing Factor)
(Lane 5 = 1.725 KPM Dividing Factor)
(Lane 4 = 1.69 KPE Dividing Factor)
(Lane 3 = 1.66 KPE Dividing Factor)
(Lane 2 = 1.63 KPE Dividing Factor)
((Lane 1 = 1.609 KPE Dividing Factor))
THUS. If you are running in the 8th lane with an 8th-lane pace of 9:20 (which needs to be converted to a decimal, 9.33), you are actually running a mile pace of 9.33 / (4(Lane-8 D) / 1609) (or 9.33 /1.13) which equals a pace of - hallelujah - 8.25 (or 8:15) minutes per mile (or 5.12, 5:07 / km).
I LOVE MATH.
Back to training. :)
I've actually never been this busy before - I'm finding myself mentally slipping in the sense that I am permitting 7 hours (sometime 6.8) a night in order to get everything done. However, for me, mentally accepting changes like this, changes which would normally really throw my training and maybe even physical health off, is the key to not getting sick. I am being extra vigilant in monitoring my body, so if extra rest is absolutely necessary, I will take it; but - I find myself in new territory lately due to a few decently-busy weeks with non-training activities (which normally would be fine) in addition to my metamorphous training.
Since my decision to accept my spot in Kona for Ironman Hawaii, I've started a tome of a training journal solely for Kona (I've had ones before which have spanned over years, and the notebooks have been maybe 1/3 as thick). I'm keeping track of everything I normally do, like workout duration and mileage and such, but I have added heart rate information, very detailed descriptions of workouts (even made sheets for interval workouts in Excel so I can save space and staple them in the notebook), nutrition log on the page opposite of the corresponding day's workouts where I keep track of food eaten, what time of day, the rate of hunger I felt, as well as sleep and weight - so I can see all of the day's training information at one time. Additionally, I have started calculating my weekly body fat % using three different formulas (they do not all yield the same number so I want an accurate range). That is just the main part of the training log.
In the back, I have written about 15 swim workouts to which I can refer (and save space when writing descriptions of my workouts in the daily log) when I am planning my workouts (oh yea - I plan my workouts about 2 weeks in advance now too, according to how my training is going and how my monthly goals are progressing). I have cut out (or printed from the internet) many different inspiring, funny, motivational, nutritional, and in-any-other-way informative articles from magazines and stapled them to pages in back (I even printed out some Kona race reports from years back which I am using for huge motivation and inspiration). And finally, the latest additions: calculating heart rate zones (from Zone 1 (least effort put forth that will in some way benefit the athlete, usually in the high 120s range) to Zone 5 (VO2 max)) and how my body will benefit from training in each of these different zones; race times from the past few Kona Ironmans in my age group as well as the 25-29 age group (where I will be next year! I need to start thinking ahead.. :) ) as well as race times from other Ironmans where the age group winners/leaders qualified; and just today, the distances around the track in each of the different lanes (I'm really pumped about this one).
So I will just lay it out for you incase anyone reading has also been curious but not so curious as to actually figure it out - but I calculated the amount of meters run in each of the lanes for one lap, and then with that information calculated the dividing factor for each lane so as to get my mile pace (or km pace -I did both, ha) quickly without having to think about how many meters I am running. I'll write out the formulas (I checked the first one with another calculation to make sure it was right, although they got there a different way, but the numbers are still the same) to show what many probably feel I have been wasting my life on. Here we go:
Track-Lane Distances:
Formula to calculate the distance in a lane:
(Track-Lane Distance) = (2(pi)) (R + 1.25(L-1))
where R = the radius of the track (which I calculated to be ~63.7m from knowing its circumference), L = lane #, and 1.25 = the width in meters of each lane (which I took to be true from numerous sources online). Of course, this is assuming that the athlete is running as close to the left as the lane will allow. This formula gives the following values:
Distance in lane 8: 2(3.14...) (63.7 + 7(1.25)) = 454.7m
Distance in lane 7: 2(3.14...) (63.7 + 6(1.25)) = 447.13m
Distance in lane 6: 2(3.14...) (63.7 + 5(1.25)) = 439.28m
Distance in lane 5: 2(3.14...) (63.7 + 4(1.25)) = 431.4m
Distance in lane 4: 2(3.14...) (63.7 + 3(1.25)) = 423.5m
Distance in lane 3: 2(3.14...) (63.7 + 2(1.25)) = 415.7m
Distance in lane 2: 2(3.14...) (63.7 + 1(1.25)) = 407.9m
Distance in lane 1: 2(3.14...) (63.7 + 0(1.25)) = 400m!
(*The significant figures are whatever I felt to be most useful considering the numbers following in the hundredths and thousandths spots - and of course these are not exact because I wasn't using pi exactly, and the radius is a little less than 63.7m, but for all intensive purposes it is useful for what I want to know :). If you are one who needs the exact values, then you are too intense for me. I just round my times up so that I think that I am slower than is probably true, and make that motivation to go faster :) ).
So, if I am running 2:20 per lap in the 8th lane (which is not extremely easy for me and it was frustrating me a little because I thought I was running about 9 min miles or a little less at a more-than-warm-up-pace effort), I take the total meters over 4 laps in lane 4 (1818.8m) and divide that by 1609m (the number of meters in a mile) to get the dividing factor for lane 8 (which is 1.13) in order to get mile pace (where the dividing factor per km would just be 1.82 after dividing 1818.8 by 1000).
The equation for finding the Mile-Pace-Equivalent Dividing Factor (described above) is:
(Mile-Pace-Equivalent Dividing Factor) = 4D / 1609
where D = the above-mentioned Track-Lane Distance. The Dividing-Factors are as follows:
MPE Dividing Factor in lane 8: 1.13
MPE Dividing Factor in lane 7: 1.11
MPE Dividing Factor in lane 6: 1.09
MPE Dividing Factor in lane 5: 1.07
MPE Dividing Factor in lane 4: 1.05
MPE Dividing Factor in lane 3: 1.03
MPE Dividing Factor in lane 2: 1.01
(MPE Dividing Factor in lane 1: 1)
*If you want the KPE Dividing Factor, you only have to find the Track Lane Distance, multiply that by 4, and divide by 1000 (4D / 1000).
(Lane 8 = 1.82 Kilometer-Pace-Equivalent Dividing Factor)
(Lane 7 = 1.79 KPE Dividing Factor)
(Lane 6 = 1.76 KPE Dividing Factor)
(Lane 5 = 1.725 KPM Dividing Factor)
(Lane 4 = 1.69 KPE Dividing Factor)
(Lane 3 = 1.66 KPE Dividing Factor)
(Lane 2 = 1.63 KPE Dividing Factor)
((Lane 1 = 1.609 KPE Dividing Factor))
THUS. If you are running in the 8th lane with an 8th-lane pace of 9:20 (which needs to be converted to a decimal, 9.33), you are actually running a mile pace of 9.33 / (4(Lane-8 D) / 1609) (or 9.33 /1.13) which equals a pace of - hallelujah - 8.25 (or 8:15) minutes per mile (or 5.12, 5:07 / km).
I LOVE MATH.
Back to training. :)
Monday, May 25, 2009
The Parents' Visit
The Parents were set to arrive in Busan Thursday(May 7th) night around 8:45p, so I went to practice briefly, did a small amount of running and a good amount of discussing the Tongyeong race last weekend and what I will need to do in order to do well in Kona, and then he dropped me off at the subway station and I started my journey to the airport. I found the bus that went from Busan to Gimhae (where the airport is), and was able to get there for around 1,200 won – about 18,000 won cheaper than a taxi would cost – I love public transportation! Plus it was a really nice ride – relaxing!
I got to the airport much earlier than expected (because I factored in time to get lost trying to find the bus, for it was my first time taking that particular one), so I grabbed a small dinner, bought some oranges in case the Parents were hungry, and worked on my workout journal until I saw that the plane from Tokyo had arrived. At that point, I stood up and watched the people arrive, watching all of their family and friends receiving them warmly (a scene which reminds me of the first scene in ‘Love Actually’ – it’s so true). I was a little nervous that I would see two completely worn down travelers (it was a very long trip), nervous and a bit frustrated to be in a different country where they don’t speak any of the language. But surprisingly, when they came through the gate, they seemed in a surprisingly good mood. I saw them and made my way over, and after a few moments of them searching around the airport wondering where there only contact in Korea was, they saw me. I won’t go into it, but it was a tearful reunion. : )
We took the nice bus to their hotel (despite my suggestion to wait for a less nice bus which was much cheaper – my mind is now in extreme frugal mode), and had a nice little reunion in the back of the bus. They seemed to be impressed with Busan at night, with all of the lights and mountains and ocean.
After arriving at the hotel, dumped the luggage, and went out for some food. They had their first experience with kimchi, and had reactions which I expected – not huge fans. But most people don’t just come to Korea and instantly like kimchi if never having tried it before. But they seemed to like the bul-nak (octopus and beef/ribs type dish), although it was a bit spicy. Also, sitting of the floor was a bit of an adjustment for them, but since I don’t live in Haeundae I don’t know the restaurant scene well there so I didn’t have much of a pool of knowledge to choose from.
I stayed at their hotel for the night and left for my apartment in the morning, planning to meet tomorrow for dinner. As a nice surprise, I got to leave school early on Friday because it was Teacher’s day, so I took that opportunity to get in a swim, and then met Mom and Dad after that. We walked around Haeundae first, and I was eyeing the restaurants to see what kind of food would be good for them to try (I had a lot of ideas in my head but I didn’t want to have them try something they might not like on their first full day here). We decided on Dweji gukbap, or Pork and rice soup, and apparently it was a good choice, because they said it was delicious (and it is : ) ), and after dinner we went for a walk on the beach.
Before I left, I ran through a tentative schedule with them for the week, to see what they would be up for doing (I had to try and plan in some workouts and also plan when to meet Coach so it was somewhat necessary to have a plan). The agreed on a relatively tiring (but worthwhile) Saturday, involving a walk fro Haeundae to Songjeong Beach ( probably around 2 hours, up a decent size ‘mountain’ or big hill), followed by an unexpectedly long walk to the temple (which Mom wasn’t too happy about and which made me feel really bad, so next time I need to be more prepared as to exactly how far certain destinations are), and dinner with Coach and his family. On our walk up Dalmaji (the ‘mountain’), we saw a biking accident, which was very surprising and a bit startling, because I hadn’t yet seen an accident in Korea. The man was on the ground in front of a car, moaning and holding his leg. I don’t’ think the car hit him; rather, I think he was going too fast down the steep downhill and in combination with the uneven road and maybe distractions of cars passing might have hit something in the road (or the bumped into the sidewalk) – but still, I’m sure he was hurt pretty bad, because he was likely going very fast downhill.
After the walk, we had some cod soup, and started off for the temple. It was my second time there, and it was just as beautiful as the first time. Later we took a bus back to the hotel and they rested while I went to swimming practice, and about 2.5 hours later, one of the most exiting moments of the trip was lingering: my parents meeting the team.
This went better then I expected. I basically just introduced them to Coach, his wife, the youth team’s Coaches, and one of the youth athletes and his parents, and then stood and watched the interactions with a huge smile on my face. Even the parents of M (a youth athlete) were amazing, asking if they could take my parents on a day trip on Wednesday and also inviting us over to dinner one night for a home-cooked meal (although she said a ‘simple’ meal, we found out later that she used to be a chef…basically, it was nothing short of five star). Anyway, after a few minutes of talking, most people left, and Coach, his family, and my parents and I all went out to dinner. We ate galbi, which is like marinated ribs without the bones. It was AMAZING.
After dinner, they exchanged gifts; Mom and Dad bore gifts from the US, and Coach and his wife gave some ‘welcome to Korea’ gifts. It was such a special thing to watch. We ended the night by going to a coffee shop, talking, and taking some great pictures. What a tiring, awesome day!
Sunday was even more jam-packed than Saturday. Mom and Dad came to practice at the Yacht club around 10am (nearing the end) to watch (basically they got to watch us play tag with the kids, because Coach decided against conventional drills today). When all the kids had left, we went to Igidae Park to do some walking, and then I set out to do some open water swimming when the rest of them sat down in a cove-area to eat the delicious gimbap that Coach’s wife had bought earlier at the market. However, I managed to make that day less than perfect because despite preparing the night before, I apparently forgot my goggles and cap at home!! I had my wetsuit though, so I was not able to just completely forego swimming in most favorite place, and I tried to swim without. However, the cold combined with not being able to see resulted in me swimming a little and treading water for the majority of the time (which Coach and I agreed would only be 10 minutes because I forgot the essentials). After playing in the water, I came out, had some gimbap, and we walked around some more before going off to our next adventure, visiting the Memorial Cemetery. I had been here before with Coach and his family but my Mom told me some things about its history which I did not know, so this time I was able to enjoy it even more. What a great place!
Next, we briefly went up Hwangnyang Mountain, which is the highest point in Busan – beautiful! – and from there we headed off to Hurgshiru restaurant, known for its super delicious duck and pumpkin dish. SOOOO delicious!! It’s one of my favorite places because they also have some monkeys very close by to the restaurant – and to make this day even more special, a baby monkey had just recently been born, so we got to see it in action! It was SO INCREDIBLY ADORABLE. Oh my goodness. Oh man.
The next few days were filled with a lot of fun, including a bunch of amazing meals (one of which M’s mom cooked for us and included the whole team (well, the Coaches at least), and going to Dr. Fish with my friend Liz from EPIK (this was particularly cool because it was my first time experiencing it too – putting your (clean) feet in water with fish in it, and they clean your feet by…nibbling...haha such an interesting night), and going to a ‘love café’ as foreigners sometimes call them, because you have a booth with couches and curtains all to yourself and the lighting is somewhat romantic. By the time Thursday night had come, time had passed so quickly!
Thanks so much to the Parents for coming to visit. I can’t describe how happy I am that they came and let me drag them around South Korea trying to show them the beauty of my current home. I had such a great time, and I’m really looking forward to seeing them again and the rest of my family and friends in a few months!
I got to the airport much earlier than expected (because I factored in time to get lost trying to find the bus, for it was my first time taking that particular one), so I grabbed a small dinner, bought some oranges in case the Parents were hungry, and worked on my workout journal until I saw that the plane from Tokyo had arrived. At that point, I stood up and watched the people arrive, watching all of their family and friends receiving them warmly (a scene which reminds me of the first scene in ‘Love Actually’ – it’s so true). I was a little nervous that I would see two completely worn down travelers (it was a very long trip), nervous and a bit frustrated to be in a different country where they don’t speak any of the language. But surprisingly, when they came through the gate, they seemed in a surprisingly good mood. I saw them and made my way over, and after a few moments of them searching around the airport wondering where there only contact in Korea was, they saw me. I won’t go into it, but it was a tearful reunion. : )
We took the nice bus to their hotel (despite my suggestion to wait for a less nice bus which was much cheaper – my mind is now in extreme frugal mode), and had a nice little reunion in the back of the bus. They seemed to be impressed with Busan at night, with all of the lights and mountains and ocean.
After arriving at the hotel, dumped the luggage, and went out for some food. They had their first experience with kimchi, and had reactions which I expected – not huge fans. But most people don’t just come to Korea and instantly like kimchi if never having tried it before. But they seemed to like the bul-nak (octopus and beef/ribs type dish), although it was a bit spicy. Also, sitting of the floor was a bit of an adjustment for them, but since I don’t live in Haeundae I don’t know the restaurant scene well there so I didn’t have much of a pool of knowledge to choose from.
I stayed at their hotel for the night and left for my apartment in the morning, planning to meet tomorrow for dinner. As a nice surprise, I got to leave school early on Friday because it was Teacher’s day, so I took that opportunity to get in a swim, and then met Mom and Dad after that. We walked around Haeundae first, and I was eyeing the restaurants to see what kind of food would be good for them to try (I had a lot of ideas in my head but I didn’t want to have them try something they might not like on their first full day here). We decided on Dweji gukbap, or Pork and rice soup, and apparently it was a good choice, because they said it was delicious (and it is : ) ), and after dinner we went for a walk on the beach.
Before I left, I ran through a tentative schedule with them for the week, to see what they would be up for doing (I had to try and plan in some workouts and also plan when to meet Coach so it was somewhat necessary to have a plan). The agreed on a relatively tiring (but worthwhile) Saturday, involving a walk fro Haeundae to Songjeong Beach ( probably around 2 hours, up a decent size ‘mountain’ or big hill), followed by an unexpectedly long walk to the temple (which Mom wasn’t too happy about and which made me feel really bad, so next time I need to be more prepared as to exactly how far certain destinations are), and dinner with Coach and his family. On our walk up Dalmaji (the ‘mountain’), we saw a biking accident, which was very surprising and a bit startling, because I hadn’t yet seen an accident in Korea. The man was on the ground in front of a car, moaning and holding his leg. I don’t’ think the car hit him; rather, I think he was going too fast down the steep downhill and in combination with the uneven road and maybe distractions of cars passing might have hit something in the road (or the bumped into the sidewalk) – but still, I’m sure he was hurt pretty bad, because he was likely going very fast downhill.
After the walk, we had some cod soup, and started off for the temple. It was my second time there, and it was just as beautiful as the first time. Later we took a bus back to the hotel and they rested while I went to swimming practice, and about 2.5 hours later, one of the most exiting moments of the trip was lingering: my parents meeting the team.
This went better then I expected. I basically just introduced them to Coach, his wife, the youth team’s Coaches, and one of the youth athletes and his parents, and then stood and watched the interactions with a huge smile on my face. Even the parents of M (a youth athlete) were amazing, asking if they could take my parents on a day trip on Wednesday and also inviting us over to dinner one night for a home-cooked meal (although she said a ‘simple’ meal, we found out later that she used to be a chef…basically, it was nothing short of five star). Anyway, after a few minutes of talking, most people left, and Coach, his family, and my parents and I all went out to dinner. We ate galbi, which is like marinated ribs without the bones. It was AMAZING.
After dinner, they exchanged gifts; Mom and Dad bore gifts from the US, and Coach and his wife gave some ‘welcome to Korea’ gifts. It was such a special thing to watch. We ended the night by going to a coffee shop, talking, and taking some great pictures. What a tiring, awesome day!
Sunday was even more jam-packed than Saturday. Mom and Dad came to practice at the Yacht club around 10am (nearing the end) to watch (basically they got to watch us play tag with the kids, because Coach decided against conventional drills today). When all the kids had left, we went to Igidae Park to do some walking, and then I set out to do some open water swimming when the rest of them sat down in a cove-area to eat the delicious gimbap that Coach’s wife had bought earlier at the market. However, I managed to make that day less than perfect because despite preparing the night before, I apparently forgot my goggles and cap at home!! I had my wetsuit though, so I was not able to just completely forego swimming in most favorite place, and I tried to swim without. However, the cold combined with not being able to see resulted in me swimming a little and treading water for the majority of the time (which Coach and I agreed would only be 10 minutes because I forgot the essentials). After playing in the water, I came out, had some gimbap, and we walked around some more before going off to our next adventure, visiting the Memorial Cemetery. I had been here before with Coach and his family but my Mom told me some things about its history which I did not know, so this time I was able to enjoy it even more. What a great place!
Next, we briefly went up Hwangnyang Mountain, which is the highest point in Busan – beautiful! – and from there we headed off to Hurgshiru restaurant, known for its super delicious duck and pumpkin dish. SOOOO delicious!! It’s one of my favorite places because they also have some monkeys very close by to the restaurant – and to make this day even more special, a baby monkey had just recently been born, so we got to see it in action! It was SO INCREDIBLY ADORABLE. Oh my goodness. Oh man.
The next few days were filled with a lot of fun, including a bunch of amazing meals (one of which M’s mom cooked for us and included the whole team (well, the Coaches at least), and going to Dr. Fish with my friend Liz from EPIK (this was particularly cool because it was my first time experiencing it too – putting your (clean) feet in water with fish in it, and they clean your feet by…nibbling...haha such an interesting night), and going to a ‘love café’ as foreigners sometimes call them, because you have a booth with couches and curtains all to yourself and the lighting is somewhat romantic. By the time Thursday night had come, time had passed so quickly!
Thanks so much to the Parents for coming to visit. I can’t describe how happy I am that they came and let me drag them around South Korea trying to show them the beauty of my current home. I had such a great time, and I’m really looking forward to seeing them again and the rest of my family and friends in a few months!
Monday, May 4, 2009
ITU-(International Triathlon Union)-World-Championships-2009-Tongyeong Weekend
May 2-3, 2009
Originally, Coach wanted to drive to Tongyeong together, but since he was an official for the pro races and had certain responsibilites, he was asked to come earlier than I was able to because of school. Thus, his second plan was to have one of my teammates drive me there in Coach's car; however, this plan didn't work out either, as unexpected responsibilities popped up for my teammate. So I called Coach on Friday to ask him what we should do, and he told me that I would have to come myself. With my bike. To a place 2.5 hours away. That would require 4 different forms of transportation.
I wasn't sure this was going to work out, because with my new budget for Kona, I only had a certain amount of money allotted to spend for this weekend, and that money was mostly allotted for food, etc. But after asking Coach how much the intra-city train costed, I was pleasantly surprised at how cheap the tickets were. So, my plan was to ride my bike to the closest subway station about 2.5 miles away (in lieu of taking my bike on an inter-city bus, which is difficult because the space on the bus is very narrow) with my gigantic backback and bike bag on my back, take the subway (involving a line transfer), take the intra-city bus from Busan to Tongyeong, and then take a 20 minute taxi ride to the hotel to meet Coach. Luckily, the overall expense was affordable, and the experience was a good one. Now, I know how to take intra-city buses, and next time I do so it will be much easier because I won't have to lug along my bike :).
So I woke up at 5:30am to get started so that I could meet Coach around 11am. Since there was a bit of traffic, I got to the hotel around 12p, which gave us just enough time to put my bike in his car and have some lunch before he had to start preparing for the Women's Pro Race which started at 2pm. It was a beautiful day, so I decided to venture around the area, scoping out what was to be part of our race course the next day.
After about an hour and a half of discovering that the hills in our race course (a course which was different from the Pro Field's course, because the Pro Field had 5 loops of 8km whereas the normal race only had one loop) were going to cause most athletes a decent amount of agony (although the beautiful scenery was sure to make up for at least some of the pain :) ), I returned to the transition area to watch the Pro Women get ready for the start. There aren't many specifics that I can give about this race - the nuts and bolts of it are that the Pro Women's race and the Pro Men's race was downright inspiring. It was so great to be able to see such great athletes so up close and personal. Seeing Emma Snowsill and Emma Moffatt come in first and second place respectively, a duplicate performance of the Beijing Olympics, was amazing. I can't imagine being that amazing of an athlete to be able to reclaim a title with such a talented field at my back.
After watching the race, I got my bike out of the car, rode around to get a feel of the hills, and then registered and put my bike in transition. Along the way I met a lot of triathletes and triathlon-officials because Coach seemed to know everyone and their mothers. After we had dinner, one of his good friends (whom I had met earlier) called him up and asked him to come out to dinner with some friends. Although we had already eaten, we agreed to come for a little while.
This outing was extremely interesting, because not only were there some pretty important Korean people present (the mayor, or second-to-the mayor, of Tongyeong, for one example), but there were also some Chinese politicians there. They had all already imbibed a decent amount of alcohol, so that made it even more fun :). After eating and drinking (just a little for me because of the race the next morning), they asked us if we would go to the Norebang (karaoke) with them. Since it is culture to accept such invitations if you want to foster good relationships, we accepted, to go for an hour. I was not super psyched about this though, because I don't like to sing or dance when I am sober...and all of these men had one-up on me in that respect. But, whatever. I tried to suck it up and kept telling myself that it would all be over in t-1 hour.
After the Norebang (which was very fun but I would have been more fun to be around if I was in a similar state as my companions), I drove Coach's car home (he had asked me before hand if that would be ok, because he was going to be drinking and since I was racing I would not be). That was a fun ... : )
Race day! I was not mentally at the top of my game because of the unusual activity that we engaged in the night before (normally I like to mentally prepare but in this situation I didn't have much of a choice), but we got there with plenty of time to prepare. The water was extremely cold, so I'm glad I warmed up, because if not I probably would have been at least 5 minutes slower. During the warm up I hyperventilated for most of the time in the water, as many other people seemed to be doing (it was definitely pee-in-your-wetsuit temperature water).
Because of the cold (16 deg C, around 60 deg F I think), I was thinking the swim was going to be a bust - especially because there were so many athletes in the race, and given my predisposition to have trouble in crowded waters...let's just say I was not looking forward to the swim. However, I surprised myself when, after diving into the water, I hardly hyperventilated at all, handling both the cold and the constant splashing much better than I ever have - no comparison. My time wasn't incredibly fast, but for me, the swim was a victory, because I have now crushed the mental barrier that was always lingering, making me wonder when or if I would ever be able to overcome my body's unfortunate response to open water swims.
The bike - was...entertaining. I actually thought I had done well after finishing that leg, because on the flats I was averaging between 29 and 31kph, and while the hills were IMMENSE, there were also some great downhills on which I picked up some serious speed. But alas - the omnipresent, extremely difficult hills must have just killed my overall speed, because my average was under 26kph!!! I could not believe that- but - I guess it just gives me more motivation to train super hard for Kona and to not embarrass myself. However, the bike was not a total bust, because while there was a decent amount of people walking their bikes up some of the hills (yes, that's how hilly this course was), I never once got off, despite the fact that I was using Coach's cassette which had a more difficult smallest gear than my bike. Plus, I made it through the hardest bike course I have ever ridden. So there is the silver lining.
Once I finished the bike, I was pretty tired, because I had really tried my best on that course. Since IM was two weeks beforehand, I knew my body was still recovering (especially from the burns, so I was actually wearing a jacket during the race), so I had made a decision before the race to take it easy on the run. I wanted to just run the whole leg, something which I cannot say that I have accomplished in any recent triathlons (there has been a lot of walking in the past few triathlons, and even a bit in some of my last Olympic distances). I accomplished the no-walking part, but the pace was not fast - 50 minutes for about 9km - basically, wayyy too slow for a race pace. However, considering everything (especially 2 weeks post-IM), I think the race went relatively well. Although Coach and I had agreed that this race was just going to be a fun thing (particularly after I had to be bandaged up for more than a week and not able to do any exercise), I still think that he didn't exactly share my sentiments on the outcome of the race. I think despite the fact that I was just going to race this for experience, he was still expecting me to do well in my age group, so I felt bad about the fact that I only came in 5th out of 9. But again, I can't do anything about that now. I tried my best on the bike, made a lot of personal progress on the swim, and finished the triathlon without burning out, and now we have results from which we can create a more appropriate training plan to help me prepare better for Kona. All in all, it was a great weekend, and a great experience.
After my race, I went to the sauna to shower as Coach got ready for the men's race. After watching the men's race (which, as I mentioned earlier, was fantastic), we headed out for a 4.5 hour drive home (at least 2 hours more than it should have taken, despite the last 30 minutes of speeding). Traffic was so bad that people were selling food on the roads to people in cars, and lots of people were buying. We got some as well - warm chestnuts. They were delicious, but definitely the most overpriced thing I have ever paid for in Korea. But a great experience!
Upon our Busan arrival, we headed to a restaurant for a quick bite. While I knew Coach's brother was in town, I was surprised to see all of his family already at the restaurant waiting for us! It was such a nice dinner - I met his mother, father, brothers, and nieces and nephews. They are all so nice! What a great end to a great day.
Now I am in the midst of a great adventure, showing my parents around Busan. But details will have to wait!
Originally, Coach wanted to drive to Tongyeong together, but since he was an official for the pro races and had certain responsibilites, he was asked to come earlier than I was able to because of school. Thus, his second plan was to have one of my teammates drive me there in Coach's car; however, this plan didn't work out either, as unexpected responsibilities popped up for my teammate. So I called Coach on Friday to ask him what we should do, and he told me that I would have to come myself. With my bike. To a place 2.5 hours away. That would require 4 different forms of transportation.
I wasn't sure this was going to work out, because with my new budget for Kona, I only had a certain amount of money allotted to spend for this weekend, and that money was mostly allotted for food, etc. But after asking Coach how much the intra-city train costed, I was pleasantly surprised at how cheap the tickets were. So, my plan was to ride my bike to the closest subway station about 2.5 miles away (in lieu of taking my bike on an inter-city bus, which is difficult because the space on the bus is very narrow) with my gigantic backback and bike bag on my back, take the subway (involving a line transfer), take the intra-city bus from Busan to Tongyeong, and then take a 20 minute taxi ride to the hotel to meet Coach. Luckily, the overall expense was affordable, and the experience was a good one. Now, I know how to take intra-city buses, and next time I do so it will be much easier because I won't have to lug along my bike :).
So I woke up at 5:30am to get started so that I could meet Coach around 11am. Since there was a bit of traffic, I got to the hotel around 12p, which gave us just enough time to put my bike in his car and have some lunch before he had to start preparing for the Women's Pro Race which started at 2pm. It was a beautiful day, so I decided to venture around the area, scoping out what was to be part of our race course the next day.
After about an hour and a half of discovering that the hills in our race course (a course which was different from the Pro Field's course, because the Pro Field had 5 loops of 8km whereas the normal race only had one loop) were going to cause most athletes a decent amount of agony (although the beautiful scenery was sure to make up for at least some of the pain :) ), I returned to the transition area to watch the Pro Women get ready for the start. There aren't many specifics that I can give about this race - the nuts and bolts of it are that the Pro Women's race and the Pro Men's race was downright inspiring. It was so great to be able to see such great athletes so up close and personal. Seeing Emma Snowsill and Emma Moffatt come in first and second place respectively, a duplicate performance of the Beijing Olympics, was amazing. I can't imagine being that amazing of an athlete to be able to reclaim a title with such a talented field at my back.
After watching the race, I got my bike out of the car, rode around to get a feel of the hills, and then registered and put my bike in transition. Along the way I met a lot of triathletes and triathlon-officials because Coach seemed to know everyone and their mothers. After we had dinner, one of his good friends (whom I had met earlier) called him up and asked him to come out to dinner with some friends. Although we had already eaten, we agreed to come for a little while.
This outing was extremely interesting, because not only were there some pretty important Korean people present (the mayor, or second-to-the mayor, of Tongyeong, for one example), but there were also some Chinese politicians there. They had all already imbibed a decent amount of alcohol, so that made it even more fun :). After eating and drinking (just a little for me because of the race the next morning), they asked us if we would go to the Norebang (karaoke) with them. Since it is culture to accept such invitations if you want to foster good relationships, we accepted, to go for an hour. I was not super psyched about this though, because I don't like to sing or dance when I am sober...and all of these men had one-up on me in that respect. But, whatever. I tried to suck it up and kept telling myself that it would all be over in t-1 hour.
After the Norebang (which was very fun but I would have been more fun to be around if I was in a similar state as my companions), I drove Coach's car home (he had asked me before hand if that would be ok, because he was going to be drinking and since I was racing I would not be). That was a fun ... : )
Race day! I was not mentally at the top of my game because of the unusual activity that we engaged in the night before (normally I like to mentally prepare but in this situation I didn't have much of a choice), but we got there with plenty of time to prepare. The water was extremely cold, so I'm glad I warmed up, because if not I probably would have been at least 5 minutes slower. During the warm up I hyperventilated for most of the time in the water, as many other people seemed to be doing (it was definitely pee-in-your-wetsuit temperature water).
Because of the cold (16 deg C, around 60 deg F I think), I was thinking the swim was going to be a bust - especially because there were so many athletes in the race, and given my predisposition to have trouble in crowded waters...let's just say I was not looking forward to the swim. However, I surprised myself when, after diving into the water, I hardly hyperventilated at all, handling both the cold and the constant splashing much better than I ever have - no comparison. My time wasn't incredibly fast, but for me, the swim was a victory, because I have now crushed the mental barrier that was always lingering, making me wonder when or if I would ever be able to overcome my body's unfortunate response to open water swims.
The bike - was...entertaining. I actually thought I had done well after finishing that leg, because on the flats I was averaging between 29 and 31kph, and while the hills were IMMENSE, there were also some great downhills on which I picked up some serious speed. But alas - the omnipresent, extremely difficult hills must have just killed my overall speed, because my average was under 26kph!!! I could not believe that- but - I guess it just gives me more motivation to train super hard for Kona and to not embarrass myself. However, the bike was not a total bust, because while there was a decent amount of people walking their bikes up some of the hills (yes, that's how hilly this course was), I never once got off, despite the fact that I was using Coach's cassette which had a more difficult smallest gear than my bike. Plus, I made it through the hardest bike course I have ever ridden. So there is the silver lining.
Once I finished the bike, I was pretty tired, because I had really tried my best on that course. Since IM was two weeks beforehand, I knew my body was still recovering (especially from the burns, so I was actually wearing a jacket during the race), so I had made a decision before the race to take it easy on the run. I wanted to just run the whole leg, something which I cannot say that I have accomplished in any recent triathlons (there has been a lot of walking in the past few triathlons, and even a bit in some of my last Olympic distances). I accomplished the no-walking part, but the pace was not fast - 50 minutes for about 9km - basically, wayyy too slow for a race pace. However, considering everything (especially 2 weeks post-IM), I think the race went relatively well. Although Coach and I had agreed that this race was just going to be a fun thing (particularly after I had to be bandaged up for more than a week and not able to do any exercise), I still think that he didn't exactly share my sentiments on the outcome of the race. I think despite the fact that I was just going to race this for experience, he was still expecting me to do well in my age group, so I felt bad about the fact that I only came in 5th out of 9. But again, I can't do anything about that now. I tried my best on the bike, made a lot of personal progress on the swim, and finished the triathlon without burning out, and now we have results from which we can create a more appropriate training plan to help me prepare better for Kona. All in all, it was a great weekend, and a great experience.
After my race, I went to the sauna to shower as Coach got ready for the men's race. After watching the men's race (which, as I mentioned earlier, was fantastic), we headed out for a 4.5 hour drive home (at least 2 hours more than it should have taken, despite the last 30 minutes of speeding). Traffic was so bad that people were selling food on the roads to people in cars, and lots of people were buying. We got some as well - warm chestnuts. They were delicious, but definitely the most overpriced thing I have ever paid for in Korea. But a great experience!
Upon our Busan arrival, we headed to a restaurant for a quick bite. While I knew Coach's brother was in town, I was surprised to see all of his family already at the restaurant waiting for us! It was such a nice dinner - I met his mother, father, brothers, and nieces and nephews. They are all so nice! What a great end to a great day.
Now I am in the midst of a great adventure, showing my parents around Busan. But details will have to wait!
Post-Race Discussion; Burn Treatment
We awoke to our 4:20am wake-up call, and started to get a move-on.
I can’t believe I actually slept 1 hour and 40 minutes after that race and made it through the next day – but I made it through with flying colors. I was in a decent amount of pain after waking up, but the bed was so comfortable that it actually didn’t bother my burns much while sleeping. But I focused on the task at hand – finishing packing and getting downstairs by 5am so we could make it to the airport on time – and gave my burns secondary attention.
After waking and realizing the pain and the burn development, my attire was decided to be a tank top, my new IM jacket (for instances of wanting to cover the burn, not for chills, because the burn was actually keeping me quite warm) and shorts - in the absence of having gauze to treat the burns at that point, I didn’t want pants rubbing up and causing infection. Plus, I know everyone wanted to see my awesome-turning-disgusting burns. I’m limping through the airport (because my foot is hurting pretty bad now too from the swim-cuts) in shorts and a tank top with my bike. Coach took a video of my to capture the moment forever. : )
While waiting for our flight, we had some Japanese ramen-type food and started to discuss the race a little bit. I won’t go into our conversation much, but the gist of it was that he had a very bad overall impression, which was due almost entirely to the way the swim course was handled. Yes, it’s true that the swim course was extremely difficult, but that doesn’t excuse people from swimming the course as it was laid out (I’m conveying his thoughts here, although I agree with his mentality). There were multiple buoy-marks which people ignored, with some people seemingly intentionally ignoring them. Apparently he also saw some people cutting across the diagonal of the almost-rectangle so as to completely cut off two main buoys of the course, which really upset him. He told me that he mentioned this to the race director and said that it wasn’t right, and expressed his mind about the way he felt the race was being handled.
He was so bothered by this that he was nearly denouncing the Ironman, saying that Ironman is not a sport, but a commercial event. This comment really bothered me, because I know how much he used to love Ironman, and at that moment I felt like our friendship and relationship would be forever tarnished, because a) I was one of the people who did not conquer 100% of the buoys (although I did not make severe violations, but that doesn’t change the fact that I did not complete the course as laid out), and b) although this race (due to the swim course) was poorly handled, Ironman will still be, second to friends and family, the passion of my life. (I have to admit, if this was my first Ironman race, my thoughts about Ironman and the passion I have for the sport would not nearly be the same, because of the allowed violations as well as the severe race conditions.) What bothered Coach most was that these people, who did not complete the course, would now be calling themselves ‘Ironmen’, and he did not feel this was right, given the violations.
I’m so glad that he can speak his mind and be completely honest, especially when I was one of the people who also committed violations – for I think other people might not have said those things to me given I fell into the same category as what he was talking about. I’m not going to go into how I feel about my performance on the swim because my previous post explains my mindset during the race and my post-swim thoughts, but I think it goes without saying that I felt pretty crappy (deservably-so) upon hearing his thoughts. Thus, there was a nagging question that had to be asked. I said to him: “I completely understand your opinion, and agree with you. And to that end, I need you to be completely honest with me when I ask you this question, because I really respect your opinion. Considering the fact that I did not swim the swim course as exactly laid out, do you think that I should still accept my spot at Kona?” The frustration of the past half hour that was discernable on his face (an emotion that I had never seen Coach display) seemed to turn to serious pensiveness for a brief moment, and without much hesitation, he replied: “I think you swam long enough that it is ok.” While the last three words of his opinion do not seem like convincing words in the English language, considering the fact that he is an honest person and that I emphasized the importance of honesty, I can say that I do believe that he believes that.
Thankfully, the passion of his opposition (at least the evident passion) faded as the days passed, and now, 2 weeks later, I can speak about Ironman Hawaii without feeling nervous or anxious that he is going to think negatively about me, Ironman, or worse, Ironman World Championships, because I know how much he used to revere IM Hawaii (as any avid triathlete does) before this weekend. I hope in his heart that Ironman will remain as something he respects and considers a sport, with the knowledge that occasionally there are instances where the sport is a bit tainted in certain races. While this is unfortunate, I cannot in my heart believe that Ironman is a commercial event not worthy of being deemed a sport. I’m going to go ahead and quote wikipedia here on the definition of sport, because it has the best definition I could find that relates to the definition sought at hand:
“Sport is an activity that is governed by a set of rules or customs and often engaged in competitively. Sports commonly refer to activities where the physical capabilities of the competitor are the sole or primary determinant of the outcome…, but the term is also used to include activities such as mind sports…where mental acuity or equipment quality are major factors. Sport is commonly defined as an organized, competitive and skillful physical activity requiring commitment and fair play….”
While I could make many arguments why a race such as this one could not be classified as a sport, I could also make arguments why it should be. As I said before, my last blog posting argues some of these points (at least from my point of view from my personal race experience), so I will not waste space reiterating. But, I think the words ‘commitment’ and ‘fair play’ and physical capabilities’ and ‘rules’ are important here, and while IM China certainly offers more oppositional arguments on being classified as a sport, Ironman races in general do not offer nearly as many arguments. So I can rest easy and know that, at least in my heart and my head, that I raced my best, followed the orally-altered rules that were given to me during the race, and gave it my all. I’m not going to look back and have regrets, but only learn from the situation so that I am not put in a situation where I have to permit myself to follow the last-minute altered-rules.
After a decent amount of nodding off on the plane trips, we arrived in Busan around 5p. We hopped in the taxi-van that Coach had reserved, and then he said that he was going to take me to get gauze, after which we would have dinner together with his family. However, after going to the pharmacy and asking for gauze, they said that I should really go to a doctor. So off we went, and ended up spending over an hour getting bandaged up – and by bandaged up, I mean BANDAGED UP (Coach took pictures of that too which I will at some point post for viewing pleasure…haha). We ended up not being able to eat until late, so Coach suggested that I stay at their apartment for the night so I could rest and then just get an early start in the morning.
The burning sensation during the night was pretty noticeable so it was hard to sleep on my back, and legit took me about 2 minutes to turn over when I made the decision to do so; but I slept a decent amount, and woke up around 6:00 am so I could get home in time to struggle into some clothes before heading off to school. I gave a brief account of my weekend to the Principal, Vice Principal and co-teachers, taught a bit, and then made my way back to doctors in Coach’s Dong (village). After another hour there, I met Coach, S, and a few of the younger teammates who will be racing in the big youth race in May for dinner.
I was undergoing a plan of everyday doctor’s visits, so on Wednesday, Thursday and Friday I had to return to get de-bandaged, burn-creamed, and re-bandaged (the health care in Korea is amazing! I know I’ve said that a few times but it deserves to be said often), and since it takes about an hour to get to the doctor in Coach’s Dong, I wasn’t getting home til decently late (although the trip was definitely worth it because I didn’t want to change doctors and nurses, who were perfectly nice, and have to explain the whole situation over again without Coach there, so I just decided to stay put). All of this, along with very restricted movement, was the cause of my bike and suitcase remaining unpacked, sprawled all over my floor, until…Sunday? Yea, I think it was Sunday when I finally got everything cleaned up. And that was an amazing thing for me to have held out on (not the bike-unpacking particularly but the suitcase-unpacking) because I HATE looking at a mess – I can’t go to school without making my bed even if I am horribly late because it hurts my eyes. So that’s how much discomfort I was in. Haha. But anyway. Saturday I went to the doctor again, and met Coach there. I had made lots of healing-progress since Monday and was very excited about that, but I was still bandaged up the way-side. After the doctor, Coach and I went to eat with his family, and then they went to swimming practice as I went home (because I couldn’t swim with the bandages even though I felt much better).
Sunday is usually 8am bike practice with the youth team followed by running, but since a) I hadn’t gotten my bike together yet, and more importantly b) my helmet and bike shoes (helmet the more important item in this case) were still in China, I would not be participating in bike practice, so I came to practice around 9:45a. I did some running (very brief) with the team, which felt nice to finally enjoy some endorphins again (although the toenail falling off of my big toe was a hindrance to a more enjoyable run but that is an injury that I can definitely deal with – no problem!). After exercising, Coach had me tell the team a little bit about the race, after which I passed out some what-I-thought-to-be Chinese candy so the kids could try it. I had tried it before passing it out and knew that it didn’t taste good, so I prefaced them on that, but I thought it would be interesting for them to try it anyway. Once they put it in their mouths it was interesting to watch their faces contort. Coach came over and looked at the bag, and said ‘yea, not candy - Chinese natural medicine. !!! I don’t know! How should I know?! I asked someone that I was with in China what it was when we were in the store and he said probably some sort of candy – it’s not like it was in the medicine aisle or anything. But thankfully it didn’t make anyone sick. Haha. Oh dear.
After having some lunch, Coach, his wife and I went for a walk around the Busan Cultural Center area, where the Busan Museum and what seemed to be a War Memorial / Cemetery were also located. I had been there a few times before for the International Choral Festival, but both of those times were at night and I didn’t know the surrounding area well. This day was a beautiful and sunny, and we walked around, sucking in the vibrant nature. Let me tell you, I was sufficiently tired after walking for maybe 30-40 minutes, and ready to go home and rest. What a wimp! (Just kidding I know my body is probably pretty pissed at me still so I can understand it protesting any kind of activity longer than 15 minutes.)
Before going home I stopped at the bike shop to take care of my deficiencies, and then headed home. The only thing left to do today of consequence was to try and finish putting my bike together. I was having issues putting on my derailleur, which is sad because that shouldn’t be one of the more difficult areas of maintenance, but I didn’t have much experience (at least experience doing it correctly, which is basically the only experience worth counting) and the threads were coming apart to create an additional frustration. I was thinking I might have to take it to the bike shop, but before then I needed to put in at least a good amount of effort to try and do it myself (how will I ever learn if I keep having other people do it for me?) Sometimes you just need to remove yourself from a frustrating situation and start anew, because when I tried again I fixed it without much hassle, which was very exciting : ). So bike-having-been-fixed, I was able to relax for the rest of the night.
Monday was the last visit to the doctor, and so I was able to start training again on Tuesday. I will be racing in the ITU race this coming Sunday, so it will be nice to get into the water before that time (maybe ‘race’ isn’t the appropriate word here – ‘compete’ might be more fitting). I’m not looking to accomplish anything astonishing in this race, but Coach signed me up a week or two before Ironman (at that time my next goal was going to be training for the Olympics) because we thought we should get a feel for what I needed to work on for the short course. However, although I will no longer be training for short course, this is a great opportunity to get some experience with a very talented field, because the ITU will have some of the best triathletes in the world racing (which will also mean that I will probably be one of the last athletes to finish but that’s no problem – experience is what I am after. Also, it was a nice gesture for Coach to have signed me up so I don’t want to bail on him there, although I know he would have understood if I did because of the burns).
So this week will basically consist of some minor training sessions to prepare for the next race – my first race in Korea! : )
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Ironman China: Race Report!
April 19, 2009
My alarm was set to wake me up around 4:15am, but race anxiety beat out the alarm - so I obeyed my softly but steadily pounding heart, got out of bed, and headed down to breakfast (which was a picture-perfect bustling full-house at 4am...I love triathlons! Such a great sport in so many ways). I ate some food, got some food for Coach, and headed back to the hotel to pick up my stuff before taking the bus to transition. (Note the Breakfast Buffet hours on the sign below...)
Once we (the athletes) got to transition, we stowed our bags, got body marked, put food on our bikes, and some of us then headed towards the bathroom to get first dibs. However, as a lovely surprise, the bathrooms weren't open! So after about 10 minutes I came back again to see a long line. Thus, I thought the bathrooms were open and all occupied. But after 5 minutes of waiting and no activity from the bathroom doors, I started to get suspicious. Either everyone in the bathrooms was also having issues with Chinese food, or they still hadn't found the keys. Turns out it was the latter. So, after waiting for a few more minutes, a bunch of us decided to take care of our needs somewhere else, because it was getting close to race time and there were other preparations that needed to be done before the gun.
So, some people went off to do their business amongst the rows of palm trees and grass that lined the street, and some people (myself included) were escorted down near the river where there was more protection from onlookers (not that any of us really cared). We were directed to go onto the rocks near the water (not the ones in the water, important point here), and there I left something that, let's just say didn't trickle down into the water. Yikes. (I apologize for being so graphic so early on, I hope I don't lose any of you as a result... :) ) After coming back up to where everyone else was located, let me tell you - I saw a sight to remember. Walking back towards transition area, there was a long line of triathletes' bare-asses decorating the tree-and-grass area. Extremely interesting situation. So much for the "No Public Nudity" rule.
After the bathroom debacle, most of us just hydrated and prepared for the race. At about 6:30am, we started heading down to the water, and at 7:00am the gun went off. And then all triathlon-hell broke loose.
That swim was no doubt the hardest swim I have ever done in my whole life, and I'm sure it will be the hardest I ever have to do - at least in a triathlon. I'm not sure how strong the current is in the Alcatraz triathlon, but I'm sure this one rivaled it at least. The swim course was a somewhat-rectangle - it was changed a bit the day before the race to account for the extra swimming we would be doing with the current. So instead of 2 rectangles in the water, we would do 2 sort-of rectangles, keeping the buoys on our left, and then with 100-150 meters to go on the last side we were to run the beach and then re-enter the water for the second lap. As we were looking at the water from the beach, the current was flowing in a south-western direction - not 225 degrees exactly, but close. This meant that in order to swim straight ahead you had to really swim at an angle of less than 45 degrees, depending on how strong of a swimmer you are.
Although I went to practice the swim course the day before the race, there was thunder and lightning when I was attempting my practice, so that prevented me from venturing out too far onto the swim course, which meant that I was not aware of how strong the current was at its best. So I was swimming at a decently sharp angle until I came to the Bitch-spot (sorry for the language but it is appropriate here). I am not a weak swimmer, so I had no idea that this current could have such an effect upon me, but I was swimming in the B-spot for, no lie, at least 20 minutes. To give a little perspective, it was 350 meters from the beach to the second buoy, at which point we had to take a left and start swimming the long edge of the rectangle. I did not start swimming horizontally (I will refer to the long sides as horizontals) until 38 minutes. Normally, I can swim 350 meters in 7 minutes EASY - easy pace. In short, this course was CRAZY-RIDICULOUS-SO-AMAZINGLY-DIFFICULT. However, to be fair, as my Coach and I had talked about, I should have just started from the beach at a really shallow angle - like 10 degrees - and then let the current push me towards the buoy. Looking back on it, I feel more and more disappointed that I didn't in fact do this. I feel stupid, actually. The only reason I can accept it is because the T-storms prevented me from knowing that the current was stronger as you went further from the beach. But still.
Anyway, getting back to the B-spot - so once I hit about 30 meters from the 2nd buoy, I stopped moving. No forward progress. At times I was actually moving backwards. I think what happened was - everytime I stopped doing the freestyle, for whatever reason - (at times it was because I was so tired - at one point my heart rate was 195 just trying to fight the current - at other times because of the frustration of trying to think of a better way to get around the buoy, aka back stroke or breast stroke), I would get pushed back, and quickly. I was getting SO tired though and I saw many people deciding to turn back, so that got me really frustrated. I didn't see anyone who was nearby me making any significant progress either - so I was really starting to get discouraged. I definitely thought of turning back - many times - especially when my HR was so high, because I honestly did not think I was a strong enough swimmer to battle this current at the place that I was situated in the river. This was a horrible feeling, because I knew that if I didn't finish the swim, a) I wouldn't be able to finish IM China; b) my efforts, time and money related, would be almost completely in vain; c) Coach would be very disappointed in me; d) I wouldn't qualify for Kona (and all I needed to do was finish the race, but that concept was no longer something that could be regarded as easy), and worst of all, e) I would be haunted forever from the fact that I gave up. Giving up at this point I'm sure would have changed my whole mindset, and would have weakened me significantly as a person. But it doesn't change the fact that giving up was somewhat appealing at some points despite the fact that I knew the consequences.
Luckily, I soon smacked sense into myself and thought: 'Shame on you for even letting such thoughts enter your head, let alone considering them. I have 2 hours and 20 minutes until I get kicked off the swim course, and I have to try my best for 2 hours and 20 minutes. If nothing else, I can race today for that long - NOTHING SHORT OF IT.' So I kept swimming - drifting back at times. At one point I decided to start sprinting for 1 minute and resting for 10 seconds to see if that could get me there, but no luck. Finally, around 38 minutes and still trying to conquer the second buoy, a boat came by and I was touched on the back. I thought I was getting pulled out of the water! But apparently, I was being told to just advance to the next buoy. I said, "Really?!" At first, I was relieved, but then I started thinking...am I going to get disqualified? But I did what they said and tried to cut out the least amount of swim course as possible in the process (I saw fellow triathletes cutting over as well so I was really wondering what was going to happen to us). Anyway, I finally got to the horizontal, and swam that 900m portion in no time (as everyone else did), and then got to the buoy at the 3rd turn, which signified a left turn onto the 2nd vertical. This portion proved to be almost as hard as the first, for we were once again fighting a horizontal current, but we weren't fighting the vertical. Basically, the current here pushed most swimmers hundreds of meters down the horizontal in the wrong direction (even though I was sighting - oh my gosh! I need practice). What ended up happening was people swam to the shore to stand and rest and then swam / waddled to the close of the first lap. FIRST LAP. ... Just writing those words seems surreal, because the experience that I just described in so many words (much too many words for a normal swim description) does not even capture 1/2 of the overall swim experience.
As I was swimming / resting on the shore, I met up with many other athletes doing the same, and we started discussing the wonders of this oh-so-special swim course. One man had done 15 Ironmans before and said he had never seen anything comparable to this. Just unlucky, I guess. (In hindsight, not all unlucky because we had a great experience, and I for one can say that now I have a lot more knowledge on how to approach a course with a strong current.)
As I was coming out of the water from nearly finishing my first lap, I encountered one more tiny obstacle - many, many decently large rocks with edges capable of causing bloodshed. While many were in plain view, others also came up unexpectedly, and so the ascent to the beach resulted in tripping over many rocks and getting many souvenirs that would serve as fun obstacles in the run. To be fair, if I had remembered to keep the last buoy on my right coming into the beach, I probably wouldn't have had as much of an issue with the rocks, but totally serves me right for forgetting that buoy (although I would have thought that the lifeguards would have reminded us about the buoys because the race directors said that they would splash us if we were off course, but I cannot complain - it is my responsibility as an athlete to know the course).
Anyway, I got out of the water from the first loop at 67 minutes - which is a pace of 114 minutes for the full course, 6 minutes short of the cut off - feeling proud to have survived making it one time around. I saw Coach as I got out of the water, and he seemed - I can't really say how he seemed, becasue I can't pinpoint it exactly. If I had to choose one emotion, I would say it was probably 'worried' (I came to later find out that he was also mad (not at me necessarily) but I will discuss that more later). I ran the beach run and as I was about to enter the water again, Coach was giving me some advice, just praying I'm sure that I finshed on time. He kept telling me that I don't have much time and I said "no problem, I'll be fine!" I think I was high on hallucinogens or something.
I successfully made it out of the water the second time, with time to spare - 1:59 minutes - holy madness. Apparently I was 9th or 10th-to-last out of the water - go me. But what that tells me is one of three things: a) I was much less intelligent than other swimmers about how much of an angle to swim into the current; b) I spent more time actually trying to pass every original buoy than other swimmers (considering I am not a poor swimmer and thus my time cannot be allotted to my physical deficiencies) who apparently (as I heard) cut more than just a few buoys, although I'm not judging because I don't know what they were told by the race directors on how to proceed); and c) I did not give up. So overall, I think, other than my lack of good current-strategy, I had a pretty good swim. :)
BIKE TIME! Oh, but before then I had to visit the medical tent to get my swim wounds tended to (although I found out on Monday that one large one was unattended to, which caused some confusion as to what was on the bottom of my foot during the marathon...but no problem!) and input some nutrition. I did all of that, fastened my helmet, put on sunglasses and bike shoes, got smacked with sunscreen (by 'smacked' I mean had lots put on me - they didn't actually 'smack' it on, although that would have been interesting) and off I went at around 9:06am. It seemed pretty hot already, and I was under the impression that it was going to be a relatively mild day for southern China. X! WRONG. Couldn't have been more wrong, because it was the exact opposite at extremely extraordinarily hot (it was written in a report on ironman.com that the temperature hit a high of 45 degrees Celcius, or 113 degrees Fahrenheit). But, like I said, I thought it would be much milder, and since I am living in the mild climate of Busan, anything over 75 would have seemed hot to me at this point in the year, so I didn't think anything of it.
However, around 30 km or so, I started to wonder a bit about the temperature. I can't remember the exact breakdowns of my activity at the bike aid-stations, but I know that at the latest the 60 km aid-station (4th station, for there was one at about every 15 km), I had to stop and get off my bike and sit in the tent (also let me add that I stopped at every single aid-station to fill up water and gatorade, and in doing so, I had to stop my bike because the water bottles were screw-off-tops so I had to transfer those to my water bottle. The Gatorades were pop-tops though, so I had one water bottle and one Gatorade at all times). Also, I got additional sunscreen at at least every 30 km, a piece of information which I will refer to later. Also at km 60 was a nice surprise-visit from Coach. At this point I had to sit down in the tent for some much needed shade, during which time he and I talked strategy. I told him it was so hot that I am now just concentrating on finishing the race - that I can't shoot for a fast time on the bike or I might not make it the whole way. He was also worried because my first average 60km was very slow, and I explained to him that it was not only hot but pretty windy too (which he knew, because he himself biked to the aid-station...!!! :) ), so I really was just concentrating on making the cut-off (which we both agreed was a suitable goal given the conditions).
The bike course was 2 90km-laps, with the first 12 or 13 km as scenic roads with some sub-urban roads mixed in, and then from there until 43 or so km it was all highway. At about km 45, we turned into a Chinese village, which was very nice, interesting and scenic, but very hot, for while the wind was a bitch, it also provided some much-valued cooler temperatures (at least most of the time, because I did experience some hot wind, which was amazingly unpleasant). The village lasted for about 10km and then we were back on the highway with an oh-so-lovely-and-much-needed (-in-my-case) tailwind.
So after I met Coach at km 60, got (what I thought to be) sufficiently sunscreened, and bathed with cold water (I know those two things sound contradictory, but a) the water came first and b) the sunscreen was so packed on that it literally looked like I had white clothing on), I took off for the rest of the 120 km. Riding back towards transition area the first time increased my confidence a bit because it was so fast with the tailwind and so much easier as well. So at the least, I was looking forward to riding the tailwind on the second loop. But the 2nd loop proved to be quite challenging on the body and mind, such that I wasn't about to concentrate on the bliss that lay ahead, but rather on the survival tactics of the current moment.
After the 90km mark, I really started to feel the heat, and at this point every aid station wasn't coming soon enough. I would be counting down the km to when I could sit in the shade provided from the aid tents (for honestly, the only shade on this course, other than some shade provided by palm trees in the scenic, pre-suburban areas before the highway and a few trees in the village, was the highway overpasses - NO LIE - and most of the course was highway), and when I could get water poured over me to cool me down for at least 3 or 5 km (and also, of course, to get re-sunscreened).
There was one point, at about 7 hours into the race, where I found myself about 10 km from an aid-station - I think it was around km 110 (and I think I didn't seek shade at the previous aid station) - yearning for shade. My heart rate was getting somewhat abnormally high, and I really felt that I should rest and get it down to normal. (Keep in mind that I really wanted to just finish this race now - I hate giving up - but also I knew I had school on Tuesday and a 7:30am flight the next morning in order to get back in time, so I also had to worry about finishing in a condition that wouldn't require me to have to stay at a medical tent.) However, resting in the sun probably wouldn't do me much good. I really, really was not looking forward to 10km more in the shade-less heat, so I eagerly (I almost use the word 'desperately' here) started searching for any trace of shade. I won't lie - I was even looking for ditches or highway signs spanning across a rail with a width great enough and a distance from the ground to the sign large enough to fit a human to perhaps provide enough of a respite from the sun's wrath (now I'm wondering, with that accurate description, whether I should have used the word 'desperately'?!). But despite my best detective efforts, they were futile. So I started hoping that I would be blessed with a highway overpass before the next aid-station, because my heart rate, while riding at a very slow pace (partly because of the wind but mostly all because of the heat) was, well - let's just say it was not a pretty sight upon looking down at my heart rate monitor.
Three km post desperation-outbreak, I spotted a source of respite - and let me tell you, I have never seen a more beautiful highway overpass. It was practically sparkling in the sun. So once I hit the pass, I stopped, had something to drink, and just leaned on my aerobars, sucking in the shade's nutrients. My standing heart rate was around 140 for a while, and if that means nothing to you, I assure you that 140 is WAY too high (at least for an active person). I was VERY surprised by this though, because I did not feel out-of-breath, and that's the point when I realized that a whole new battle had begun - a battle of surviving the heat without incurring any problems that would require serious medical attention.
*Let me interrupt this paragraph to say that if there are any of you denoucing the sport of Ironman at this point, I would have to ask you to not judge the sport based on this race alone, because these conditions were so extraordinary that a typical Ironman race does not fall into the same what-the-crap category ('crap' substituted for lack of a more appropriate but blog-inappropriate word).*
(paragraph continuted from above) That may not sound like material appropriate for the usage of the word 'battle', but the real concerning point for me was that I had had absolutely no previous experience dealing with something like this before (elevated heart rate but feeling like actual heart rate was 30 to 50 beats per minute lower). So I resolved to just take the rest of the bike very relaxed, focus on maintaining my heart rate around 150, and trying to not let it get over 165 max. I hadn't even reached the 120 km yet, so I still had 1/3 of the race to go.
I remember looking at my watch when I stopped under the overpass (where, by the way, a few Chinese onlookers were situated - I wanted to say something to them, but a) my mental capacity was just about full at this point so small talk (aka 'ni hao' and a smile) seemed like something that would require too much of an effort, and b) I felt like they were probably wondering why an athlete in close-to-last place and racing the clock was wasting precious minutes off the bike), and it was about 7 hours and 8 minutes into the race. In keeping with my decision to stay in the shade until my heart rate went sub-130, I stayed there until my stopwatch said 7:14. I couldn't believe it took that long - but, like I said - completely unfamiliar territory.
Now, I had 3 hours and 15 minutes to finish the bike portion, and over 65 km to go. Normally, this would be absolutely no issue, but with the current circumstances I was actually getting a bit worried. Once I hit the 120km aid-station, I had to stop again and sit in the shade for a few minutes after having water poured over me. Coach had ventured over from the other side of the road at the nearly-opposite aid station to meet me here, so he gave me a little pep-talk as well as the rest of his water, because apparently the aid-stations had run out (!!!) (although they had Gatorade). After resting a bit and force-feeding myself a banana and a Gatorade, I got sunscreened again and, just before taking off, was given some cold water from a van that had just driven up to replenish water supplies.
I knew I only had 25 km more until I hit the section with a tail wind, where I could relax more and start booting (going much faster, not vomiting.. :) ). But these 25 km were not going to come easy. If I kept my current pace (affected by the cross wind) for the rest of the race, I would not finish on time, and I was also worried about a 'hill' in the village which, normally would be nothing, but considering the heat and my body's response to it, I was not looking forward to the climb.
After riding 25 more km in a decent amount of agony, I happily made it out of the village and onto the really enjoyable fast ride (and race against the clock) back to transition. At the aid-station at 150 km, I once again saw the comforting, supportive face of Coach (he had apparently spent the whole time since my last visit there between aid stations, helping out the volunteers and the ambulance people! :) ) He was warning me about the clock, but I assured him that the wind was in my favor, and I would be fine. So he had some volunteers take our picture (haha), and after a brief fueling, I took off.
I only encountered one more minor problem before the finish of the bike course - a lightning storm in the distance which, never came too close to comfort but, was accompanied by a change in wind direction, thus cutting off my additional source of power. This wind alteration came at about 15 km before the finish, but I had plenty of time now to make it back before the cut off, so I sucked it up and headed back to transition, crossing the bike finish at about 10 hours and 10 minutes, or 5:10pm - with 20 minutes to spare.
Run transition was decently quick, but I think I had some issues, because I ended up losing my bike bag (thus leaving it at the race due to my early departure and no extra time to search for it) so I think something happened such that the volunteers had to redirect me somewhere. Nothing big, though, I'm sure. I got sunscreened again, got my visor and longsleeved shirt, and started the marathon.
You might ask - why in heck did you grab a long sleeved shirt? Yes, it was still very hot, but my burns were starting to really bother me, and it was still sunny out, so despite the sunscreen, I draped the shirt over my shoulders as I walked the first maybe half-hour of the marathon. Now this didn't make me particularly happy, to be walking, because the run should have been my easiest conquest in this course - but it was still very hot, and more concerning, my legs were really starting to hurt from the burns that I was just discovering I had acquired on the bike course.
So I walked for a bit, and then started up intervals of running about 2 minutes and walking 4. That's all I could mentally muster for the moment. The running portions were at a good pace so I was making some decent ground for 2 minutes at a time, and I decided that once the sun went down that I would start to make the run portions longer. The first 17km (a little over a third of the marathon) went decently smooth in this way, but as the sun went down, the agony of my skin increased, and I was not able to completely subscribe to that plan (in addition to the pain from the burns, I had a few decent cuts on my foot, as I mentioned before, from the swim, which were definitely uncomfortable (especially the one under the arch of my foot spanning about 2.5cm), but I just thought they were blister-like injuries so I gave them no heed). So, around km 20, just about half way, I was thrust into my third mode of survival-mentality of the day, as I was continuously trying to figure out just how much I would have to run and at what pace in order to finish on time.
The hardest past of the marathon was probably around 15 hours and 30 minutes (10:30pm), where the pain was probably at its worst, and pretty must sustained there for the rest of the race. In addition to the pain, there were race-helpers on bikes riding next to us (there were a bunch of triathletes around me, maybe within 1 km there were about 10 of us or so) somewhat pushing us to go faster. Haha. HAHAHA. Sorry. I wrote that and burst out laughing at my computer a bit because although I know they just wanted us to finish, I'm sure they couldn't imagine what was going on inside of our bodies and our minds.
Amidst my obsessive pace-calculating, I think in my delirium I was sometimes substituting the concept of minutes per kilometer with minutes per mile, because towards the end of the race I started to get overly nervous (when in reality I should only have been decently nervous about the status of the probability of finishing). My mind was telling me: 'Here is where we will find out what you are made of. Your body is being extremely stubborn, and I am trying my best to talk reason into it - that we have come all this way and it has to put in its two cents and carry us through just for another 75 minutes. It must do some running or else we will not make it, and the sooner it starts, the better. I cannot carry us alone! ' And eventually my mind prevailed, and convinced my body to get a move on - although I couldn't even manage to do a set interval of running-walking. I had to just find a few occassions where my mind was at its strongest and close my eyes, cease thinking, and just lunge into a run until the momentum wore out.
When I finally got to about .5 km to go, there was a woman in front of me who was jogging, and so I decided to initiate my last 'explosive' movement (that energy needed to go from walking to running) and suck it out til the end. My muscles were surprisingly fresh (actually not surprisingly because I had hardly been exhausting them in the race), and I glided through to the finish line, trying to ignore all cries from my legs and feet. Once I crossed the finish line, I let out a "faaaaaaack. That was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life" - as Coach video-taped me. :). And from there, I went to get my clothes to change into (a task with which I needed assistance from Chinese volunteers...women, of course), visited the medical tent for my burns, grabbed something to eat, and headed off onto our next journey to retrieve my bike from transition (which was difficult because the buses to transition for the evening had stopped running about 15 minutes earlier), go back to the hotel and disassemble the bikes, pack, tend to my wounds, sleep as much as possible before 4:30am, and then wake up to catch our 7:30am plane (all-in-all we ended up sleeping less than 2 hours...ohhh dear).
Lessons learned:
1) If you are taking medicine which makes you even a little sensitive to the sun, you must either discontinue this medicine before the race or invest in a very cool (temperature related term :) ) long-sleeved and long pant-legged outfit (which a few triathletes were wearing, and at first I was a bit disconcerted by this but then realized their genius) - unless you want to have to go to the doctor every day for one week and counting and get de-bandaged, cleaned, burn-creamed, and re-bandaged up for an hour, as well as the other fun things that go along with largely-restricted movement (although the silver lining there is that I get to reap the benefits of the amazing Korean health care system).
2) You must always practice the swim course (and if possible the bike and the run as well) before the race unless there are ceaseless lightning storms or a ceaseless storm with very strong winds which run the risk of a tornado (aka I should have gone back later that day to practice when the storm had subsided).
While I agree with the professional triathlete Chris McCormack, who won the Ironman World Championships in 2007, when he made the following comment about Ironman (70.3) China 2009: "That was the hardest thing I've ever done," I can tell you that the experience and completion of this race has made me a stronger and more determined person, in the sense that I actually will be able to apply the new mentalities that I discovered inside of me to my everyday life and its challenges. To anyone out there who is at all interested in the sport, I would 100% recommend giving it a shot. It has the power to open up your eyes to all of life's possibilities.
Oh - and I qualified for the World Championships in Kona, effectively giving me the opportunity to realize my dream of 8 years - a task which all of my friends and family have abundantly contributed to. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart. With love and support such as yours and a passionate will, anything is possible.
My alarm was set to wake me up around 4:15am, but race anxiety beat out the alarm - so I obeyed my softly but steadily pounding heart, got out of bed, and headed down to breakfast (which was a picture-perfect bustling full-house at 4am...I love triathlons! Such a great sport in so many ways). I ate some food, got some food for Coach, and headed back to the hotel to pick up my stuff before taking the bus to transition. (Note the Breakfast Buffet hours on the sign below...)
Once we (the athletes) got to transition, we stowed our bags, got body marked, put food on our bikes, and some of us then headed towards the bathroom to get first dibs. However, as a lovely surprise, the bathrooms weren't open! So after about 10 minutes I came back again to see a long line. Thus, I thought the bathrooms were open and all occupied. But after 5 minutes of waiting and no activity from the bathroom doors, I started to get suspicious. Either everyone in the bathrooms was also having issues with Chinese food, or they still hadn't found the keys. Turns out it was the latter. So, after waiting for a few more minutes, a bunch of us decided to take care of our needs somewhere else, because it was getting close to race time and there were other preparations that needed to be done before the gun.
So, some people went off to do their business amongst the rows of palm trees and grass that lined the street, and some people (myself included) were escorted down near the river where there was more protection from onlookers (not that any of us really cared). We were directed to go onto the rocks near the water (not the ones in the water, important point here), and there I left something that, let's just say didn't trickle down into the water. Yikes. (I apologize for being so graphic so early on, I hope I don't lose any of you as a result... :) ) After coming back up to where everyone else was located, let me tell you - I saw a sight to remember. Walking back towards transition area, there was a long line of triathletes' bare-asses decorating the tree-and-grass area. Extremely interesting situation. So much for the "No Public Nudity" rule.
After the bathroom debacle, most of us just hydrated and prepared for the race. At about 6:30am, we started heading down to the water, and at 7:00am the gun went off. And then all triathlon-hell broke loose.
That swim was no doubt the hardest swim I have ever done in my whole life, and I'm sure it will be the hardest I ever have to do - at least in a triathlon. I'm not sure how strong the current is in the Alcatraz triathlon, but I'm sure this one rivaled it at least. The swim course was a somewhat-rectangle - it was changed a bit the day before the race to account for the extra swimming we would be doing with the current. So instead of 2 rectangles in the water, we would do 2 sort-of rectangles, keeping the buoys on our left, and then with 100-150 meters to go on the last side we were to run the beach and then re-enter the water for the second lap. As we were looking at the water from the beach, the current was flowing in a south-western direction - not 225 degrees exactly, but close. This meant that in order to swim straight ahead you had to really swim at an angle of less than 45 degrees, depending on how strong of a swimmer you are.
Although I went to practice the swim course the day before the race, there was thunder and lightning when I was attempting my practice, so that prevented me from venturing out too far onto the swim course, which meant that I was not aware of how strong the current was at its best. So I was swimming at a decently sharp angle until I came to the Bitch-spot (sorry for the language but it is appropriate here). I am not a weak swimmer, so I had no idea that this current could have such an effect upon me, but I was swimming in the B-spot for, no lie, at least 20 minutes. To give a little perspective, it was 350 meters from the beach to the second buoy, at which point we had to take a left and start swimming the long edge of the rectangle. I did not start swimming horizontally (I will refer to the long sides as horizontals) until 38 minutes. Normally, I can swim 350 meters in 7 minutes EASY - easy pace. In short, this course was CRAZY-RIDICULOUS-SO-AMAZINGLY-DIFFICULT. However, to be fair, as my Coach and I had talked about, I should have just started from the beach at a really shallow angle - like 10 degrees - and then let the current push me towards the buoy. Looking back on it, I feel more and more disappointed that I didn't in fact do this. I feel stupid, actually. The only reason I can accept it is because the T-storms prevented me from knowing that the current was stronger as you went further from the beach. But still.
Anyway, getting back to the B-spot - so once I hit about 30 meters from the 2nd buoy, I stopped moving. No forward progress. At times I was actually moving backwards. I think what happened was - everytime I stopped doing the freestyle, for whatever reason - (at times it was because I was so tired - at one point my heart rate was 195 just trying to fight the current - at other times because of the frustration of trying to think of a better way to get around the buoy, aka back stroke or breast stroke), I would get pushed back, and quickly. I was getting SO tired though and I saw many people deciding to turn back, so that got me really frustrated. I didn't see anyone who was nearby me making any significant progress either - so I was really starting to get discouraged. I definitely thought of turning back - many times - especially when my HR was so high, because I honestly did not think I was a strong enough swimmer to battle this current at the place that I was situated in the river. This was a horrible feeling, because I knew that if I didn't finish the swim, a) I wouldn't be able to finish IM China; b) my efforts, time and money related, would be almost completely in vain; c) Coach would be very disappointed in me; d) I wouldn't qualify for Kona (and all I needed to do was finish the race, but that concept was no longer something that could be regarded as easy), and worst of all, e) I would be haunted forever from the fact that I gave up. Giving up at this point I'm sure would have changed my whole mindset, and would have weakened me significantly as a person. But it doesn't change the fact that giving up was somewhat appealing at some points despite the fact that I knew the consequences.
Luckily, I soon smacked sense into myself and thought: 'Shame on you for even letting such thoughts enter your head, let alone considering them. I have 2 hours and 20 minutes until I get kicked off the swim course, and I have to try my best for 2 hours and 20 minutes. If nothing else, I can race today for that long - NOTHING SHORT OF IT.' So I kept swimming - drifting back at times. At one point I decided to start sprinting for 1 minute and resting for 10 seconds to see if that could get me there, but no luck. Finally, around 38 minutes and still trying to conquer the second buoy, a boat came by and I was touched on the back. I thought I was getting pulled out of the water! But apparently, I was being told to just advance to the next buoy. I said, "Really?!" At first, I was relieved, but then I started thinking...am I going to get disqualified? But I did what they said and tried to cut out the least amount of swim course as possible in the process (I saw fellow triathletes cutting over as well so I was really wondering what was going to happen to us). Anyway, I finally got to the horizontal, and swam that 900m portion in no time (as everyone else did), and then got to the buoy at the 3rd turn, which signified a left turn onto the 2nd vertical. This portion proved to be almost as hard as the first, for we were once again fighting a horizontal current, but we weren't fighting the vertical. Basically, the current here pushed most swimmers hundreds of meters down the horizontal in the wrong direction (even though I was sighting - oh my gosh! I need practice). What ended up happening was people swam to the shore to stand and rest and then swam / waddled to the close of the first lap. FIRST LAP. ... Just writing those words seems surreal, because the experience that I just described in so many words (much too many words for a normal swim description) does not even capture 1/2 of the overall swim experience.
As I was swimming / resting on the shore, I met up with many other athletes doing the same, and we started discussing the wonders of this oh-so-special swim course. One man had done 15 Ironmans before and said he had never seen anything comparable to this. Just unlucky, I guess. (In hindsight, not all unlucky because we had a great experience, and I for one can say that now I have a lot more knowledge on how to approach a course with a strong current.)
As I was coming out of the water from nearly finishing my first lap, I encountered one more tiny obstacle - many, many decently large rocks with edges capable of causing bloodshed. While many were in plain view, others also came up unexpectedly, and so the ascent to the beach resulted in tripping over many rocks and getting many souvenirs that would serve as fun obstacles in the run. To be fair, if I had remembered to keep the last buoy on my right coming into the beach, I probably wouldn't have had as much of an issue with the rocks, but totally serves me right for forgetting that buoy (although I would have thought that the lifeguards would have reminded us about the buoys because the race directors said that they would splash us if we were off course, but I cannot complain - it is my responsibility as an athlete to know the course).
Anyway, I got out of the water from the first loop at 67 minutes - which is a pace of 114 minutes for the full course, 6 minutes short of the cut off - feeling proud to have survived making it one time around. I saw Coach as I got out of the water, and he seemed - I can't really say how he seemed, becasue I can't pinpoint it exactly. If I had to choose one emotion, I would say it was probably 'worried' (I came to later find out that he was also mad (not at me necessarily) but I will discuss that more later). I ran the beach run and as I was about to enter the water again, Coach was giving me some advice, just praying I'm sure that I finshed on time. He kept telling me that I don't have much time and I said "no problem, I'll be fine!" I think I was high on hallucinogens or something.
I successfully made it out of the water the second time, with time to spare - 1:59 minutes - holy madness. Apparently I was 9th or 10th-to-last out of the water - go me. But what that tells me is one of three things: a) I was much less intelligent than other swimmers about how much of an angle to swim into the current; b) I spent more time actually trying to pass every original buoy than other swimmers (considering I am not a poor swimmer and thus my time cannot be allotted to my physical deficiencies) who apparently (as I heard) cut more than just a few buoys, although I'm not judging because I don't know what they were told by the race directors on how to proceed); and c) I did not give up. So overall, I think, other than my lack of good current-strategy, I had a pretty good swim. :)
BIKE TIME! Oh, but before then I had to visit the medical tent to get my swim wounds tended to (although I found out on Monday that one large one was unattended to, which caused some confusion as to what was on the bottom of my foot during the marathon...but no problem!) and input some nutrition. I did all of that, fastened my helmet, put on sunglasses and bike shoes, got smacked with sunscreen (by 'smacked' I mean had lots put on me - they didn't actually 'smack' it on, although that would have been interesting) and off I went at around 9:06am. It seemed pretty hot already, and I was under the impression that it was going to be a relatively mild day for southern China. X! WRONG. Couldn't have been more wrong, because it was the exact opposite at extremely extraordinarily hot (it was written in a report on ironman.com that the temperature hit a high of 45 degrees Celcius, or 113 degrees Fahrenheit). But, like I said, I thought it would be much milder, and since I am living in the mild climate of Busan, anything over 75 would have seemed hot to me at this point in the year, so I didn't think anything of it.
However, around 30 km or so, I started to wonder a bit about the temperature. I can't remember the exact breakdowns of my activity at the bike aid-stations, but I know that at the latest the 60 km aid-station (4th station, for there was one at about every 15 km), I had to stop and get off my bike and sit in the tent (also let me add that I stopped at every single aid-station to fill up water and gatorade, and in doing so, I had to stop my bike because the water bottles were screw-off-tops so I had to transfer those to my water bottle. The Gatorades were pop-tops though, so I had one water bottle and one Gatorade at all times). Also, I got additional sunscreen at at least every 30 km, a piece of information which I will refer to later. Also at km 60 was a nice surprise-visit from Coach. At this point I had to sit down in the tent for some much needed shade, during which time he and I talked strategy. I told him it was so hot that I am now just concentrating on finishing the race - that I can't shoot for a fast time on the bike or I might not make it the whole way. He was also worried because my first average 60km was very slow, and I explained to him that it was not only hot but pretty windy too (which he knew, because he himself biked to the aid-station...!!! :) ), so I really was just concentrating on making the cut-off (which we both agreed was a suitable goal given the conditions).
The bike course was 2 90km-laps, with the first 12 or 13 km as scenic roads with some sub-urban roads mixed in, and then from there until 43 or so km it was all highway. At about km 45, we turned into a Chinese village, which was very nice, interesting and scenic, but very hot, for while the wind was a bitch, it also provided some much-valued cooler temperatures (at least most of the time, because I did experience some hot wind, which was amazingly unpleasant). The village lasted for about 10km and then we were back on the highway with an oh-so-lovely-and-much-needed (-in-my-case) tailwind.
So after I met Coach at km 60, got (what I thought to be) sufficiently sunscreened, and bathed with cold water (I know those two things sound contradictory, but a) the water came first and b) the sunscreen was so packed on that it literally looked like I had white clothing on), I took off for the rest of the 120 km. Riding back towards transition area the first time increased my confidence a bit because it was so fast with the tailwind and so much easier as well. So at the least, I was looking forward to riding the tailwind on the second loop. But the 2nd loop proved to be quite challenging on the body and mind, such that I wasn't about to concentrate on the bliss that lay ahead, but rather on the survival tactics of the current moment.
After the 90km mark, I really started to feel the heat, and at this point every aid station wasn't coming soon enough. I would be counting down the km to when I could sit in the shade provided from the aid tents (for honestly, the only shade on this course, other than some shade provided by palm trees in the scenic, pre-suburban areas before the highway and a few trees in the village, was the highway overpasses - NO LIE - and most of the course was highway), and when I could get water poured over me to cool me down for at least 3 or 5 km (and also, of course, to get re-sunscreened).
There was one point, at about 7 hours into the race, where I found myself about 10 km from an aid-station - I think it was around km 110 (and I think I didn't seek shade at the previous aid station) - yearning for shade. My heart rate was getting somewhat abnormally high, and I really felt that I should rest and get it down to normal. (Keep in mind that I really wanted to just finish this race now - I hate giving up - but also I knew I had school on Tuesday and a 7:30am flight the next morning in order to get back in time, so I also had to worry about finishing in a condition that wouldn't require me to have to stay at a medical tent.) However, resting in the sun probably wouldn't do me much good. I really, really was not looking forward to 10km more in the shade-less heat, so I eagerly (I almost use the word 'desperately' here) started searching for any trace of shade. I won't lie - I was even looking for ditches or highway signs spanning across a rail with a width great enough and a distance from the ground to the sign large enough to fit a human to perhaps provide enough of a respite from the sun's wrath (now I'm wondering, with that accurate description, whether I should have used the word 'desperately'?!). But despite my best detective efforts, they were futile. So I started hoping that I would be blessed with a highway overpass before the next aid-station, because my heart rate, while riding at a very slow pace (partly because of the wind but mostly all because of the heat) was, well - let's just say it was not a pretty sight upon looking down at my heart rate monitor.
Three km post desperation-outbreak, I spotted a source of respite - and let me tell you, I have never seen a more beautiful highway overpass. It was practically sparkling in the sun. So once I hit the pass, I stopped, had something to drink, and just leaned on my aerobars, sucking in the shade's nutrients. My standing heart rate was around 140 for a while, and if that means nothing to you, I assure you that 140 is WAY too high (at least for an active person). I was VERY surprised by this though, because I did not feel out-of-breath, and that's the point when I realized that a whole new battle had begun - a battle of surviving the heat without incurring any problems that would require serious medical attention.
*Let me interrupt this paragraph to say that if there are any of you denoucing the sport of Ironman at this point, I would have to ask you to not judge the sport based on this race alone, because these conditions were so extraordinary that a typical Ironman race does not fall into the same what-the-crap category ('crap' substituted for lack of a more appropriate but blog-inappropriate word).*
(paragraph continuted from above) That may not sound like material appropriate for the usage of the word 'battle', but the real concerning point for me was that I had had absolutely no previous experience dealing with something like this before (elevated heart rate but feeling like actual heart rate was 30 to 50 beats per minute lower). So I resolved to just take the rest of the bike very relaxed, focus on maintaining my heart rate around 150, and trying to not let it get over 165 max. I hadn't even reached the 120 km yet, so I still had 1/3 of the race to go.
I remember looking at my watch when I stopped under the overpass (where, by the way, a few Chinese onlookers were situated - I wanted to say something to them, but a) my mental capacity was just about full at this point so small talk (aka 'ni hao' and a smile) seemed like something that would require too much of an effort, and b) I felt like they were probably wondering why an athlete in close-to-last place and racing the clock was wasting precious minutes off the bike), and it was about 7 hours and 8 minutes into the race. In keeping with my decision to stay in the shade until my heart rate went sub-130, I stayed there until my stopwatch said 7:14. I couldn't believe it took that long - but, like I said - completely unfamiliar territory.
Now, I had 3 hours and 15 minutes to finish the bike portion, and over 65 km to go. Normally, this would be absolutely no issue, but with the current circumstances I was actually getting a bit worried. Once I hit the 120km aid-station, I had to stop again and sit in the shade for a few minutes after having water poured over me. Coach had ventured over from the other side of the road at the nearly-opposite aid station to meet me here, so he gave me a little pep-talk as well as the rest of his water, because apparently the aid-stations had run out (!!!) (although they had Gatorade). After resting a bit and force-feeding myself a banana and a Gatorade, I got sunscreened again and, just before taking off, was given some cold water from a van that had just driven up to replenish water supplies.
I knew I only had 25 km more until I hit the section with a tail wind, where I could relax more and start booting (going much faster, not vomiting.. :) ). But these 25 km were not going to come easy. If I kept my current pace (affected by the cross wind) for the rest of the race, I would not finish on time, and I was also worried about a 'hill' in the village which, normally would be nothing, but considering the heat and my body's response to it, I was not looking forward to the climb.
After riding 25 more km in a decent amount of agony, I happily made it out of the village and onto the really enjoyable fast ride (and race against the clock) back to transition. At the aid-station at 150 km, I once again saw the comforting, supportive face of Coach (he had apparently spent the whole time since my last visit there between aid stations, helping out the volunteers and the ambulance people! :) ) He was warning me about the clock, but I assured him that the wind was in my favor, and I would be fine. So he had some volunteers take our picture (haha), and after a brief fueling, I took off.
I only encountered one more minor problem before the finish of the bike course - a lightning storm in the distance which, never came too close to comfort but, was accompanied by a change in wind direction, thus cutting off my additional source of power. This wind alteration came at about 15 km before the finish, but I had plenty of time now to make it back before the cut off, so I sucked it up and headed back to transition, crossing the bike finish at about 10 hours and 10 minutes, or 5:10pm - with 20 minutes to spare.
Run transition was decently quick, but I think I had some issues, because I ended up losing my bike bag (thus leaving it at the race due to my early departure and no extra time to search for it) so I think something happened such that the volunteers had to redirect me somewhere. Nothing big, though, I'm sure. I got sunscreened again, got my visor and longsleeved shirt, and started the marathon.
You might ask - why in heck did you grab a long sleeved shirt? Yes, it was still very hot, but my burns were starting to really bother me, and it was still sunny out, so despite the sunscreen, I draped the shirt over my shoulders as I walked the first maybe half-hour of the marathon. Now this didn't make me particularly happy, to be walking, because the run should have been my easiest conquest in this course - but it was still very hot, and more concerning, my legs were really starting to hurt from the burns that I was just discovering I had acquired on the bike course.
So I walked for a bit, and then started up intervals of running about 2 minutes and walking 4. That's all I could mentally muster for the moment. The running portions were at a good pace so I was making some decent ground for 2 minutes at a time, and I decided that once the sun went down that I would start to make the run portions longer. The first 17km (a little over a third of the marathon) went decently smooth in this way, but as the sun went down, the agony of my skin increased, and I was not able to completely subscribe to that plan (in addition to the pain from the burns, I had a few decent cuts on my foot, as I mentioned before, from the swim, which were definitely uncomfortable (especially the one under the arch of my foot spanning about 2.5cm), but I just thought they were blister-like injuries so I gave them no heed). So, around km 20, just about half way, I was thrust into my third mode of survival-mentality of the day, as I was continuously trying to figure out just how much I would have to run and at what pace in order to finish on time.
The hardest past of the marathon was probably around 15 hours and 30 minutes (10:30pm), where the pain was probably at its worst, and pretty must sustained there for the rest of the race. In addition to the pain, there were race-helpers on bikes riding next to us (there were a bunch of triathletes around me, maybe within 1 km there were about 10 of us or so) somewhat pushing us to go faster. Haha. HAHAHA. Sorry. I wrote that and burst out laughing at my computer a bit because although I know they just wanted us to finish, I'm sure they couldn't imagine what was going on inside of our bodies and our minds.
Amidst my obsessive pace-calculating, I think in my delirium I was sometimes substituting the concept of minutes per kilometer with minutes per mile, because towards the end of the race I started to get overly nervous (when in reality I should only have been decently nervous about the status of the probability of finishing). My mind was telling me: 'Here is where we will find out what you are made of. Your body is being extremely stubborn, and I am trying my best to talk reason into it - that we have come all this way and it has to put in its two cents and carry us through just for another 75 minutes. It must do some running or else we will not make it, and the sooner it starts, the better. I cannot carry us alone! ' And eventually my mind prevailed, and convinced my body to get a move on - although I couldn't even manage to do a set interval of running-walking. I had to just find a few occassions where my mind was at its strongest and close my eyes, cease thinking, and just lunge into a run until the momentum wore out.
When I finally got to about .5 km to go, there was a woman in front of me who was jogging, and so I decided to initiate my last 'explosive' movement (that energy needed to go from walking to running) and suck it out til the end. My muscles were surprisingly fresh (actually not surprisingly because I had hardly been exhausting them in the race), and I glided through to the finish line, trying to ignore all cries from my legs and feet. Once I crossed the finish line, I let out a "faaaaaaack. That was the hardest thing I have ever had to do in my life" - as Coach video-taped me. :). And from there, I went to get my clothes to change into (a task with which I needed assistance from Chinese volunteers...women, of course), visited the medical tent for my burns, grabbed something to eat, and headed off onto our next journey to retrieve my bike from transition (which was difficult because the buses to transition for the evening had stopped running about 15 minutes earlier), go back to the hotel and disassemble the bikes, pack, tend to my wounds, sleep as much as possible before 4:30am, and then wake up to catch our 7:30am plane (all-in-all we ended up sleeping less than 2 hours...ohhh dear).
Lessons learned:
1) If you are taking medicine which makes you even a little sensitive to the sun, you must either discontinue this medicine before the race or invest in a very cool (temperature related term :) ) long-sleeved and long pant-legged outfit (which a few triathletes were wearing, and at first I was a bit disconcerted by this but then realized their genius) - unless you want to have to go to the doctor every day for one week and counting and get de-bandaged, cleaned, burn-creamed, and re-bandaged up for an hour, as well as the other fun things that go along with largely-restricted movement (although the silver lining there is that I get to reap the benefits of the amazing Korean health care system).
2) You must always practice the swim course (and if possible the bike and the run as well) before the race unless there are ceaseless lightning storms or a ceaseless storm with very strong winds which run the risk of a tornado (aka I should have gone back later that day to practice when the storm had subsided).
While I agree with the professional triathlete Chris McCormack, who won the Ironman World Championships in 2007, when he made the following comment about Ironman (70.3) China 2009: "That was the hardest thing I've ever done," I can tell you that the experience and completion of this race has made me a stronger and more determined person, in the sense that I actually will be able to apply the new mentalities that I discovered inside of me to my everyday life and its challenges. To anyone out there who is at all interested in the sport, I would 100% recommend giving it a shot. It has the power to open up your eyes to all of life's possibilities.
Oh - and I qualified for the World Championships in Kona, effectively giving me the opportunity to realize my dream of 8 years - a task which all of my friends and family have abundantly contributed to. Thank you all, from the bottom of my heart. With love and support such as yours and a passionate will, anything is possible.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
