Can You Die from Cramps?

On yesterday morning's run I was convinced I could. The Spanish say, "Me duelen los riñones," (literally: my kidneys hurt me) and it became my refrain as I slogged on - up the hill, around the curve. Me duelen los riñones.

I remembered Ironman and how I conversed with and convinced myself, "No one dies from the cold." And I didn't.

I slogged on, thinking of the night before IM, eating with my family. My parents asked Chris what he thought of all this. I had already coached him, "Under no circumstances are you to let me quit this race! I don't care how tired, or hurt or sad or defeated I am, tell me I've worked too hard for it and have to keep going."

He told my parents that, as a dutiful husband, he was honor-bound to leave me at the side of the road should I be lying there.

You see, I had fought these demons already - the fatigue, the boredom, the pain, the nausea and even injury. You don't do 2 hour swims and 6 hour bike rides without learning. My family received strict instructions too: they were to leave me at the side of the road.

They all had a good laugh at that imagery. But they knew that I - at least - meant it.

Me duelen los riñones.

I have had Chris bail me out in the past. There was a marathon I was walking with his mom and sisters - early in my marathon career - and at mile 21, I hopped into the car with him and didn't look back.

I have wanted Chris to bail me out at other times. My 2003 BQ attempt. I knew I wasn't going to make it when I bonked at mile 16 and had everything I could do to keep putting one foot in front of the other. I told him to meet me at the finish line. He snuck back and took pictures of me from the bushes, but he didn't let me quit. At the end - and only there - I felt I had finally earned the right to say, "Take me home."

Me duelen los riñones.

Chris's words to me later that Ironman Eve, "You tell me you're hurting 3 times tomorrow, though, and that's it. I'm scooping you up. Ironman or no Ironman. I'm taking you home."

But I didn't. I didn't even say it once. I didn't hurt, I was ready for it. I wanted it and I did it.

No me duelen los riñones.

I had pushed, slogged - lived through it. The cramps had subsided. I felt my beautiful, beautiful legs take over and the surge felt like what I live for. We rounded the corner into a stiff head wind.

"Piper, did we beat the cramps just to let a little cold wind push us around?!? NO! Let's go..."

This is what I will remember next year when every breath hurts, when my quads are screaming at me to slow down, when my piriformis snaps at me. Trying to qualify for nationals will hurt, setting a HIM PR will hurt - shit - my interval workouts are going to hurt! But I know I can do it because I have faced these demons and...

I didn't die from the cramps.