I have written about more ridiculous things than a challenge. But a challenge is a challenge and if there is one thing I LOVE it’s a freaking challenge.
This… is called the Jacob’s Ladder. Or it might be just…. Jacob’s Ladder.
It’s a climbing machine. Those wooden bars scroll, like a treadmill. The higher towards the top you go, the faster it goes. If you went to Catholic School (as I so obviously did… Nativity of our Lord!) then you also know the religious reference of Jacob’s Ladder (that’s for you Sr. Rosemary….. I did pay attention!).
We have one of these at Midtown Athletic Club and of course Steve Lopes has put me on it a few times. Two weeks ago I climbed 276 steps in 3 minutes and thought I was a hot shot. (I was hot…. I had a temp of 103 we determined later. Martyr Mary at it again!). That weekend Steve informed me that Shannon Mullen, star of Rock of Ages (and one of my yoga students for like ten years, plus awesome kiddo) climbed 296! I rolled my eyes. How could this be????? UGH. But for a week I had to keep the HR down, I was sick after all (empathy cue).
But I knew I had to top this. In my head I knew I could hit 300 steps in three minutes. That was the goal.
Enter Spaker. Midtown member and cyclist who informs me he climbed 284. I think. Some number around there.
The bear has been poked. 284? Ten higher than ME? My heart rate rose standing there. Steve taunted me. Spaker taunted me. Which let’s be honest….. I absolutely live for. Both know I have a slight obsessive-compulsive-competitive-vein running through my entire body. Only certain people know how to hit it just right (Steve), and I get all fired up.
Give me a number to beat and I will think about it. All. Weekend. Long. (LOSER!)
But here is the thing: I am getting fired up. Someone is setting the bar and I am rising to it knowing full well I might hit it, make it, or vomit trying. It’s been too long since I have felt like that.
You see Ironman racing is a different beast. It’s a long event that you endure. You visit corners of yourself that you don’t know exist. It’s like a lot of what I have been through in my life. Long painful experiences that I have endured. I have found places of myself I didn’t know existed and I came out of it for the better. Maybe that’s why I love the Ironman so much. Because I am very very good at enduring.
What I miss…. and crave is the firing up-knock-em-dead-push-till-i-puke efforts. I am not excellent at those (yet) but good god do I love them.
I decided that on Monday night at 8pm, after my iAM triathlete class was finished at Midtown Athletic Club…. that I would take down the record. I was aiming for 300 steps in 3 minutes, or vomit trying. I put it out there, took the heat, engaged in the trash talk…. totally unsure of whether I could do it…. and my class was there to witness. Win lose or draw I was going to go for it. I am not afraid to fail…. people think I am…. trust me I fail all of the time….. and I am willing to do it in front of many.
I had this silly idea to put my Garmin on the machine, to read my heart rate. I know my lactate threshold and I thought that if I was at a point where I needed some motivation…. I could look over and see where my HR was and use that as some incentive to go harder. That silly move will be important shortly.
I placed the garmin, wrapped the belt to the machine around me…. took a deep breath, and in front of my class, began the climb.
On the machine you can watch the time and the average steps per minute. Right away I was over 100. As long as I could keep it there I was golden. I got into a rhythm, the gang was cheering. I had this. At 1:30 I felt that first rush of oh-my-god-i-am-going-to-die wash over me like a warm wave of take it easy here Eggers. You were sick….. you are just getting better… this doesn’t really matter….. just ease off. The devil was on my shoulder.
I shook my head as one of my students called out “You are halfway there, you can do anything for 1:30!” they were right. I listened to their words and knocked those thoughts of reclining out of my head.
Make this hurt Eggers. I told myself. Go. Hurt. Vomit. Harder. Die if you must.
I glanced over at the Garmin to see where the HR was…. then I slipped. OH MY GOD WHO DOES THAT? Me. I lost my footing and struggled to regain it as my average slipped to 90! Come on Eggers. My students got on me…. go Mary go mary go mary…. I got it back, over 100.
My heart was hurting me, never my legs and never my shoulders. My heart. My blood felt hot. I went harder. I got to 2:30 and I tried to begin calculating where I would end up. Who cares I thought… climb!!!!
I hit 318 in 3:00. They cheered. I stopped. Which was another dumb move because as soon as I stopped is when I almost threw up. (cool down anyone). My head was light, I began to cough like a smoker. Then THAT feeling came over me. You know….. that one. Not that feeling of victory (but let me take this moment to say I crushed Spaker. Crushed. And that feeling is nice!) … that feeling of going so hard that I tasted blood in the back of my throat. That feeling of going so hard that I saw stars. That feeling of going so hard I was about to pass out.
I love that feeling. I miss that feeling. I want that feeling again. I love to get toe to toe with myself and I don’t care how I have to get there. A challenge at the gym…. while maybe there is no qualifying Olympic standard for the Jacob’s Ladder…. (oh hell maybe there is…..) if I can find an opportunity to go there I want to go there.
It makes me feel alive. It let’s me touch the center of my damn soul and getting to that place is something I am completely addicted to. But I never find in the Ironman. I am too busy eating and pacing and enduring. Like I have done my whole life.
I want to taste the insides of my intestines again.
The day I signed up for Ironman Mont Tremblant I knew it would be my last Ironman. Not my last triathlon…. make no mistake I am not retiring from competing or coaching. I want to go shorter. I want to go harder. I want to go off the beaten path. I want to run a stand alone marathon. Ride my bike across the country with my family. Swim at Masters Nationals. Compete in events like the Seneca 7 and an urban challenge thing I am doing with the Midtown crew in October.
I want to go to USAT Age Group Nationals. I want to run several half marathons.
I don’t want to pay $800 for an Ironman entry fee (when I began this sport 10+ years ago it was $250). I don’t spend all day Saturday on my bike and I don’t want to. I don’t want to go to Kona. Been there. Done that. The next time in Kona I will be surfing with my husband and son and standing on a volcano.
I have loved the Ironman for over ten years. And I love it enough to know when to say when. August 18th…. will be when. It will be bittersweet in many many ways. This Ironman is special for many reasons. Mostly because of the team that is helping me to get there. If I sat them all down you’d find each person has nothing to do with the other yet as an integral and intricate part of me. And each person is a gift to me and I am holding them all tight because some of them know…. and some of them don’t have any idea of what this particular Ironman means to me.
It’s representative of my life. What I have endured, survived, learned. It’s a selfish endeavor but at the same time the biggest healing project I have ever taken on. Ever. And I don’t think I have the ability beyond these words to convey how much gratitude I have for my team.
When I am issued a challenge like this I love it. It’s what makes my world turn, my heart beat. I want the challenge. I want to feel that burn in my lungs. I want to see how far I can actually go. Sometimes I succeed. More often than not I fall on my face, lay on the ground and yell “F*CK!” but that’s just me really saying…. hell it feels so good to be alive.
I am an athlete and that is the biggest privilege I have ever been afforded. I will slide into that grave someday beaten and worn, ready for an eternal nap. I have gotten to meet and experience the most amazing people ever. They set the bar and I get to come apart trying to reach it. Because it’s freaking fun. I love to talk sh*t with people I respect. I love that people will talk sh*t to me, try to get me all fired up…. and make me work for something.
I call it poking the bear with a red hot poker. Bring it boys. Bring it. And thank you for it.
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