The Thrill of Victory, the Agony of De feet
- Coach Megan
- 2 days ago
- 11 min read
Ironman South Africa 2025 Report
“There may only be a 10% chance of victory at the start line, but if we don’t get there ready, physically and mentally, there is 0 chance of victory.” Coach Meg aka me.
“How was your race Coach?” Well, it’s complicated. And as with everything long course racing, there’s a lot of themes and learning here - so bear with me, and I’ll both process and share that learning a bit. I’ll tell this story both backwards and forwards - so maybe read/watch it twice each way :P This isn't a race review - maybe I'll do that separately and there are pieces here, but it's more what happened on the way.
Ironman South Africa is a race I’ve done before in 2023- another hard day of learnings in the long line of hard days on the way to being a champion. But those days are what builds champions - and I quite literally would not be one without it. We all say that we know that champions aren’t just the glory shots, the podiums, that it is the hard slog, the getting knocked down and getting back up, the injury, the ugly - but in reality, that’s not what we WANT to see.
Just getting to the start
I had a short build for IM SA 2025, thanks to a post race dumb bunk bed injury sustained just after IM 70.3 Worlds in NZ in December. My team - yeah, I got one and they are the best - my Coach Julie Dunkle at NYX Endurance, Brittney at BRP, Dr Caballes and of course, the hardest working, most supportive team of misfit toys becoming champions together, my TMT team of coaches and athletes, did everything to get me there. When I told Julie my big goals for 2025, and we talked through IM SA, we knew it was a stretch. There was no definite answer, go work hard AF for a month, do all the things Dr C and Britt gave me to be whole enough and strong enough, and we will see.
SO I DID. I ran uphill on treadmills indoors in a sauna in paradise. I did not run outside and feel the sun and breeze on my face for a month in Mexico, because Dr C said if I wanted to be healthy enough, I had to build my knee and not load it. I worked on my supporting muscles and balance from Britt. I worked my ass off on the bike in the wind, the rain, the heat. I had a lot of help and support from my family and my tri family, who cheered, waved, bought cokes and coffees, sweated together, and cried a little together.
In typical Julie fashion, at the end of February, she said “Ok, the work is there, the strength is there, the fitness is there. Register and let’s go. But I gotta say, a month ago, I didn’t think I wasn’t sure we would be here.”
It’s a good thing she never says that to me when we start a build, because I trust her implicitly and put my whole heart and soul into it - I show up for shit workouts, and execute every one I can with my best that day. Crushing all the ugly rocks and slowly making diamonds. That belief of doing the work and showing up to get there gets me through - there are a lot of variables, but NONE of it happens if we don’t show up and do the work.
“There may only be a 10% chance of victory at the start line, but if we don’t get there ready, physically and mentally, there is 0 chance of victory.” Coach Meg aka me.
I convinced my partner Rob to come and support me on the ground, in no small part because they are my epic adventure buddy when I can get them out of their studio and because my new rule since Estonia is that I need support on the ground for a full - we all do. It takes a village, and one of that village needs to be on site. Rob was both the best and worst sherpa of all times, but I could not be more grateful he’s here.
The missing piece was showing up on the day mentally prepared for battle. While we do it every damn day in training, showing up for ourselves mentally and physically, I knew prepping for race day required some additional work there. So, I pulled out my race day prep kit, including How Bad Do You Want It? By Matt Fitzgerald, but I also knew I needed the big guns - so I queued up Vanessa Faye Foerster’s Train Your Mind podcasts and listened to several of my favorites, and also listened to her recent webinar with a charity we both work with, FundherTriUK, Mindset and Confidence Building for Triathlon, which is crucial in the metamorphosis that is happening. These were key tools in my toolbox on race day.
Ok, Let’s Talk about the damn race
Race day showed up, and I was ready for battle. I’d weathered long travel, the taper sickness, the taper crazies and mental fatigue, and the body and the mind had come around just in time. I believed in what I could see and also what I could not: that I am a champion, and my day on the podium is coming.
High winds, but clear skies and we made it. “It’s going to be a long hard day at the office, Rob, but I love my office.” He kissed me as I got in the swim corral and reminded me “Have a great day at the office”
It’s our joke, but it’s the way I remind myself of my charmed af life - triathlon isn’t just my hobby any more, I did the scary work and it’s my life now. And I reminded myself of that all damn day.
Had the race not been an Ironman Pro series race, or anywhere else in the world, the swim would probably have been cancelled - and for many, it was probably the end of their day. It was windy and choppy and slow AF. I swam over/past so many people struggling, and reminded myself how much I love hard swimming- but I know so many who don’t and I was honestly thinking about them during the swim, hoping they would be ok, hoping they would not give up. I love this shit, and getting back in for lap 2 was mentally hard for me! I knew it would be slow but done, and on to the next. Thankfully lap two was still stupid, but felt faster - or maybe I was just in get it done mode.
Smooth transition, or so I thought, and I was running to my bike. I had socks on and the carpet wasn’t perfect, so I was gingerly jogging to not fall. A big guy came around behind me and basically body checked me and I went down OOF, face plant into the carpet and concrete. Was it intentional? Only in the entitled “steam roll over everything and anyone in my way” of many men - that’s a whole story unto itself about the difference in how we race - There’s no reason for that BS. We can all be tough competitors, we can all want to win, and we don’t have to tear each other down to do it. BUT THE POINT IS, I am not even mad at him now, no one needs to come down here and deflate his tires or punch him in the nose (thanks to all my peeps who offered, but we are moving on <3)
What I thought I got was two skinned knees, and brushed myself off, worried about my bruised patella for a second, and got on my bike quickly. Bike power was ok but not great but we had an hour of steady climbing into the wind to start so it would be fine (and it was). But as we turned around and the wind and roads were in my favor, I saw blood seeping out of my right shoe and felt the pain - dammit, must have stubbed my toe.
What then happened was 2.5 loops of struggle bus as I struggled to keep up my power wondering in my monkey brain WTF was happening and why i sucked so badly. The work was there, my legs were strong, my nutrition was on point. Sure, I could have used some additional gears on the descents and flats (and that is coming) but otherwise I had all the tools. I spent the next hours focusing on what I could control, keeping that shit tight, and getting it done. I remembered how hard AF I worked to be there.
And I remembered that it was just another day at the office, and even a total shitshow of a day at my office was better than no day at the office. And that became a new mantra of the day: The worst day at my office is better than no day at my office. I get to do this.
Rob giving me one split ⅔ of the way through saying I was in 6th really gave me a shot in the arm for the last loop too.
I got into transition much later than I wanted to, and everything hurt. My bloody foot hurt but so did everything. Well, I just have to pull out a good run, gut through it and you know how to do that. My literal guts, which have not always been cooperative in racing and which have had to go through some big nutrition changes after having nailed it a couple years ago (thanks peri and now post menopause), were responding well to the day’s nutrition plan. I could trust that.
I decided changing would help me mentally kick the run’s ass, but as soon as I put my foot down on the ground in transition, pain and doubt shot through me. I grabbed my things and hobbled into the changing room, telling myself fresh clothes, some Red Bull, and an attitude change was getting me through this.
As soon as I pulled my socks off, I had a wake up call: My foot was throbbing, swelling fast, and blood was gushing out of my toe. Gory AF. The volunteer squealed and made me see Medical. Not gonna sugar coat it, the doctor was pretty horrified. She could not believe I had not stopped almost 8 hours ago when I fell. And she just said “ Do you want to run? I cannot see how you can run?”
“I have not come this far to come this far. I came here to finish what I started. It’s not what I want at all, but if I have to walk this, I want to finish it. I HAVE to try. I will walk this. Hell, I will dance it if I have to.” (we had a good chuckle about the dancing in the med tent post race)
So, she taped my toes together, put my sock and shoe on while I winced, and off I went.
What transpired was 3 hours of pain and trying to run/walk. I have not walked so much of the marathon in maybe 5 years - but today was different. I found I could not run uphill at all due to the flexion of my toes, but downhill and false flats, I could lean back a bit and gingerly run. Did it hurt? EFF YES IT HURT. every step. But there was more hurt to my heart and my dreams. There was ugly crying and the race pic shows it.
Quick note: do not assume someone walking the marathon is a quitter, or giving up on themselves- you don’t know. Telling them they are doing it is enough. They probably have a struggle you cannot see. I sure did.
Rob learned how to give run splits on the fly - as I screamed and taught him about cut off times. The first lap was awful and painful, but I was moving and could make it. But the more I stepped the greater the pain became - and by lap 2 the blood was seeping through my shoe, which was getting tighter from the swelling. The swelling was rubbing, which was blistering, which was causing more blood- which meant more walking - which meant taking more time, and that was now going to run out. When I was making it, I could suffer through more hours of pain. Sure, there was the “is continuing putting myself at more risk for not healing?’ discussion, both in my head and with Rob on the sidelines. I said I was going to keep going til they dragged me off course, even if I got a DNF time wise. I was there to finish what I started. I also quit triathlon forever rather loudly. Rob’s look told me he didn’t believe me for a second - but he said nothing.
But as the swelling kept growing, once again, so did the pain. I was ticking off one leg, one lap at a time, but I also started thinking just get this lap done and reassess. As I tried to run downhill, the pain was “I’m gonna black out now” overwhelming, and I leaned on a post and took off one shoe. That made me lopsided, so a few steps later I took off the other. Walking in my socks with shoes in my hands. It was a look.
I made it another 1.25 miles this way, wincing all the way. Medical was trolling me in their ATVs, asking if I was done. I said I wanted to finish the loop- but when they took my shoes out of my hands for me, I got on the ATV and called it. I may have cried on the shoulder of the driver.
Was racing for 13ish hours with a broken foot smart? Maybe not. Was it what I had to do? Absolutely. If self confidence is believing in what you can’t see, I needed to see it. AND I did. Most won’t get this, but being a champion (thanks Vanessa) requires believing in what you can see, the empirical proof, but also believing in what you have not yet seen. I have not yet seen the proof that I can stand on that podium step in an Ironman, but I believe. That belief is so strong, it kept me going. And on the day it is supposed to happen (not the day I decide it will happen, thanks universe), it will happen because I will already believe it - I already do. IM SA 2025 was another day of believing and betting on me, and in its twisted little way, showing me that I bet on myself, every time.
I’ve been in this sport for about 20 years. It started as a dream of a teenager watching Julie Moss crawl over the finish line in Kona as part of the agony of defeat in their promos. But becoming a champion has taught me that that was not the agony of defeat - it was an ugly beautiful , important part of the thrill of victory.
I am coming home in a walking boot for the next few weeks, and I am reserving judgement on what comes next, coach’s orders (which may in fact be the hardest part because I am a PLANNER people). This isn’t the race I wanted, or the hardware I wanted to come home with, but racing is a gift.
Need some background music? The theme of this is Panic at the Disco’s High Hopes.
“They said it's all been done but they haven't seen
the best of me
hey hey hey
So I got I more run and it's gonna be excited to
say"
“They say it's all been done but they haven't seen the best of me-e-e-e”
LET THEM (thanks @idropboys and Mel Robbins)
“So I got one more run and it's gonna be a sight to see-e-e-e”
You bet your ass I do. This foot will heal, maybe faster than my heart, and it too will be stronger for the next fight.
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