TriVeggies

This upcoming weekend is Ironman Maryland over in Cambridge, Md., a race that has become my Moby Dick. I’m a member of several social media groups about the race, and at this point in the season, the chatter is high. What’s the water temp? How hot will it be? What is the path of Hurricane Lee? How about the jellyfish? And on and on and on. The excitement (and nervousness) is palpable, and honestly just reading about it gets me excited too.

Even if I’ve never managed to finish it. Even if I’ve DNF’d on that course three times.

And with that admission, I must acknowledge, yes, I am either insanely hard-headed or completely nuts! (Maybe both.) I have a hard time accepting when a course (or anything, really) won’t bend to my will. And this course, I have finally begun to realize, simply won’t bend, at least not to me.

No, I take that back. It’s not the course. It’s the jellyfish. The damn jellyfish, which refuse to abate, which haunt me in my dreams sometimes. They don’t hurt too much, to be honest, but after three attempts where I’ve fallen short, I finally realized what I should have put together way back in 2017: I’m allergic. Seeing how I’m allergic to many things and have skin reactions when I have the gall to change so much as a deodorant brand, this should not have come as a surprise, but I suppose I expected to be able to bulldoze my way through the situation as I try to do with most everything.

It took me a full year after my most recent attempt at IMMD, back in 2021, to come to terms with the fact that perhaps this course just isn’t suited to me due to the jellyfish. Some people don’t do well with hills; some people don’t do well with heat. My issue is, apparently, jellyfish, which is admittedly a niche market.

Finally, this year as the season ramped up, I was finally able to read athlete reports and answer athlete questions on the forums without feeling like a total fraud and failure. I was – dare I say it – healing from the pain that DNFing the race had seared into me.

And then I read a post from one of the swim officials that set me off like a rocket.

In response to an athlete’s query about the jellyfish, he responded, in part, that he didn’t know anyone who had actually had to drop out of the race due to jellyfish (never mind that in my most recent race alone, one athlete was rushed to the hospital with a severe reaction), and that anyone who used the jellyfish as an excuse must have had a “training issue” (read: we didn’t train hard enough, we didn’t belong out there).

So I rolled up my sleeves and replied, basically saying that real allergies to jellyfish were out there, and I had a reaction three years running, and that in terms of my training, he’s welcome to check with my coach at the time to see the receipts. He replied with the old “I’m sorry if I hurt you” routine and then peppered me with questions to try to, I suppose, disprove my point, which didn’t sit well. So like a dog with a bone I refused to let it go.

And then the words flowed forth like honey from a stream as I wrote:

“Regardless of your intent, pinning a previously unknown allergy (because how WOULD I know before race day?) on a ‘training issue’ certainly comes off as pretty condescending to me, and I’m not known for having wafer-thin skin. And just for the record, yep, wore a sleeveless wetsuit with additional neoprene sleeves and slathered my exposed body up to my cheekbones with Safe Sea and Vaseline. I know I had 30+ stings because I counted, of course. I had 2.4 miles in the river — what else could I do to kill some time? At 30 I stopped counting because, frankly, I was tired of thinking about the stings. 

Everyone is correct about the pain level: They don’t hurt that bad. Which is why I spent the entire bike ride completely befuddled as to why my heart rate, which usually hangs out around 135-140 at race pace, shot up to 175 and stayed there all day long, no matter the watts I put out. By the time I got 5 miles into the run I could barely walk, had blacked out once, and my heart rate was hovering around 180. I had to DNF and it was only after the race, upon talking to a doctor, did I have the ‘Aha’ moment that it was all those stings that did it.

You’re right about one thing — only a small subset of us are allergic. This will be a total non-event for most racers, and I’m so glad for that. Personally, I spent most of the next calendar year beating myself up for every aspect of my race performance that day, even well after I knew the root cause. I’m over that now, so your words really don’t bother me in the slightest. I’m just trying to prevent others from beating themselves up in the same manner I did — and then having tenured race officials pile on, inadvertently or no. It’s a very lonely place to be and I don’t want others to have to linger there for very long.

I’ve done tris and road races ranging from 5Ks to (successful) Ironmans. I am no stranger to pain. I can say with certainty that it’s not always a “training issue.” Sometimes it’s plain old medical. To try to wave that away does a disservice to racers who did their damndest to get to the finish line, only to run up against situations they had no control over.

As I said before, I wish everyone a safe and successful race day.”

After I hit Send, there was as expected a flurry of activity (we triathletes aren’t known for our silence or our lack of opinions, are we?). Many words of support from other athletes, some of whom are also allergic, many of whom aren’t. An offer from my now-former coach to follow up with the swim official to show him my training receipts, as it were. One helpful (?) woman who took the time to look up my race history and remind me I had DNF’d three times (as though I had forgotten – I thanked her for her diligence with all sincerity while I giggled to myself from behind the screen at the absurdity of it all). And so forth. For the first time in a long time, my spirits were buoyed by the community coming together to support those who had DNF’d. I myself don’t like to acknowledge DNFs as a thing that could happen to any of us, so the fact that so many folks were willing to address the topic head-on served as an unexpected balm.

For the record: The swim official, for his part, did message me privately the next day to talk more about the jellyfish situation. It was a crazy week at work and I truly didn’t have time to give him a call, and now it feels as though the moment has passed. But hear this: If Ironman Maryland makes a calendar shift to spring, or really any other time of the year where the jellies aren’t present, I’d love more than anything to give it another whirl. It’s a great course with wonderful community support. I’d be a fool not to toe the line if I could!

But in the meantime, I wish all of this year’s racers fleet feet and happy times on the course this weekend. Soak it all in. Enjoy those views on the bike through the wildlife refuge. And wear your Safe Sea in the river! I’ll be toasting you all from just down the road a piece.