I awoke from the nothingness with a gasp, crying “I can’t breathe!” I tried to take in breaths but it seemed like my body wasn’t allowing me to do so. My legs and arms were locked up and were starting to go numb. I tried to remember something, anything, about where I was and why I was there, but I couldn’t. I lay there struggling to breathe sure that I soon would take my last breath.

Ironman 70.3 Chattanooga. So many memories at this race. I consider it a hometown race because it’s only two hours from my home in Nashville. I know every twist and turn of the course. It was the first 70.3 triathlon I ever did and I’ll always remember how excited I was to cross that finish line; completing something that I hadn’t entirely thought was possible. Now, years later and jaded to the distance, I was just hoping for a decent race. Last year I had an injury issue and then had a mechanical on the bike portion of the race which lead to a less than stellar finish. I’ve never had a result I’m satisfied with at this event and this year I hoped to change that. I had a good training block leading into the race and I went into weekend excited for the race.

I was probably the least nervous I’ve been before a Chattanooga half Ironman. I enjoyed the day before the race- sleeping in, eating lots of carbs, doing a shakeout bike and run with my friend Alicia where we got pelted by cicadas, and attending a team dinner. I was ready to race!

Race morning started out cool; the air thick with the promise of a hot and humid afternoon. We took a bus to the start of the swim portion of the race. It’s a downriver swim and is a little longer than most 70.3 swims, 1.4 miles vs 1.2 miles, because it begins at a local rowing club. I used a port a potty one last time, slipped on my wetsuit, and had fun joking around with friends until it was time to jump in the water.

The river temperature felt great and the current was moving. The swim was uneventful and went by fast. I went through transition and hopped on my bike and was off pedaling out of Chattanooga towards Northern Georgia where most of the bike course is located.

I love the 70.3 Chattanooga bike course. I always have a lot of fun biking through the rolling hills and rural landscape of North Georgia. Before I knew it I was at mile 50 with only 6 more miles of biking back into Chattanooga left to go. I thought about how the bike had felt easy and went by really fast. I finished the bike portion of the race feeling fairly satisfied with what I did. I haven’t figured out exactly how to best race the bike yet, still working on that, but I was okay with what I had done.

I dropped my bike off in transition, got my running gear on, ate a gel, and was off to run 13.1 miles. My legs felt okay as I started but I immediately noticed how hot and humid it was and quickly tried to get that thought out of my mind. I’ve been here before, just keep as cool as possible by staying wet and hydrate at every aid station.

The Chattanooga run course is two loops and crosses out and back over two bridges. The first loop was uneventful. I quickly realized the pace I was hoping for would most likely not happen in the humidity so I stopped looking at my watch and just ran at a pace that I could hold but just barely hold. But I felt fine. And by fine I mean race fine which really isn’t fine, but you’re moving forward and haven’t stopped or passed out and things hurt but still work so you label it all as “fine”. Soon, though, things would not be fine.

I crossed the first bridge and went back across the second bridge which is a wooden slatted pedestrian bridge. I saw my husband Jeff and yelled at him to get his attention and waved. The second loop starts soon after the bridge. I started it and just kept moving forward, glad that the race was almost over.

I remember coming to the 10 mile marker and thinking just a 5k to go. The next thing I remember is laying on the ground in a panic because I couldn’t breath. It was one of the scariest things I’ve been through. I came to enough to realize that Jeff was there and a girl who was coaching me on how to breathe. She was amazing, telling me to slow down and breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth while counting out breaths. My back and legs were cramping bad and my body was going tingly so I was pretty sure that soon I would no longer be able to take another breath. I asked them if paramedics were coming because I wanted oxygen. Jeff told me someone was coming. I just kept trying to breathe and stay conscious until they came.

For some reason I thought I was at a park. I had it all pictured in my mind and was trying to remember why the three of us- Jeff, me, and the girl who I knew I knew but couldn’t think of her name- were there. When Jeff told me the paramedics were on the bridge I pictured a bridge leading into the entrance of a nice green grassy park. I was so relieved when the medics finally arrived but then panicked all over again when I realized that they did not have oxygen. I was still struggling to breathe, sure I needed oxygen. They eventually decided to sit me up which I couldn’t do on my own and I was shocked when I sat up and saw the Ironman tracker on my ankle and that I was on the wooden bridge. I then remembered that I was doing a race but couldn’t think of where it was.

The paramedics got me into the back of a gator. I couldn’t move and was in a lot of pain from cramping. They drove off the bridge to a waiting ambulance and lifted me onto a stretcher. In the ambulance they started an IV and took my vitals. I told the paramedic that I was still struggling to breathe and that my head was tingling. She told me my pulse was very high and that I could breathe, I was just breathing too fast. It did not feel to me like I was but I tried to slow down.

The paramedic began asking me questions like what was my SSN and my address and I could not answer her. I had no idea. I couldn’t remember the month either. It was scary. Laying there staring out of the back window of the ambulance I finally remembered that I was in Chattanooga and then began to think how I must have something seriously wrong with me. My first thought was what if I could never do a triathlon again- what would I do with my life? Would I have to slow down and become a bike packer or ultra runner? What if I couldn’t run again? Would all of my tri friends leave me? Never being able to do the sport I loved again was a depressing thought. Also, maybe I need some more hobbies!

We got to the hospital and I was immediate taken back to the ER. I passed another girl in a stretcher who was also doing the Ironman and we waved at each other ironically. I received another bag of fluids and finally started to feel better. They did an EKG and bloodwork on me and determined that I was suffering from dehydration. Finally the physician came back to discharge me. I still could barely walk due to how much I had cramped but I did feel better.

In the car heading back to the hotel I asked Jeff exactly what had happened. He told me that he saw me heading up the pedestrian bridge completely hunched over with my hands balled in fists on my knees. He was initially going to meet me at the finish line but instead decided to wait on the bridge because it is uphill and a pretty hard point in the race. And thank God- literally- that he decided to do that.

According to Jeff, he ran up next to me trying to get me to stop and rest for a minute. I kept telling him no, that I was fine, I was going to finish, and pushing him away. He saw that I was in fact not fine, not even race “fine” and finally grabbed me by the elbow and pulled me over and laid me down at the side of the bridge. I was laying there for around 10 minutes before I came to and started not to be able to breathe. Jeff had been with a girl we know from home, Amanda, who was standing by him cheering on some athletes she coaches. She was the one that walked me through breathing and kept me going. I was about one mile from the finish line.

I remember none of this. I’ve gone back in my mind so many times trying to pull it out but I have no memory. It’s scary to think I was moving forward, talking to Jeff, and yet have no conscious memory of any of it. But maybe that’s better because it was all so embarrassing. The thought of me running hunched over just makes me cringe.

So many people have told me not to be embarrassed. Only my sister Shannon told me that she understood me being embarrassed and I thanked her for that. From picturing how I must have looked all hunched over to needing to be carried onto the ambulance to how absolutely horrible I must have smelled to the fact that they had to unzip my top in front of spectators to get sensors on me- yep I would definitely define that as embarrassing.

And now I’m doing okay. I was shocked and humbled by how many people reached out and were concerned. I’m still struggling with how to define this race. My first DNF (did not finish) and such a bummer when I was doing fairly well through most of it. Those inner voices of- not good enough, not good enough- are difficult to quiet. I always feel behind. It’s a lot to train for one of these. A lot of time and money and hours away from family; and then to have nothing to show for it at the end, I don’t know it just makes me feel like a failure. Yes I can take lessons from this race (I will definitely be reevaluating my nutrition) and come back stronger and all of that, but it still is a race that I failed at. Over time it will obviously just become some good lore but right now I’m just not there.

I did, though, do what every triathlete does after a bad race- I immediately signed up for another 70.3! Ever onward!