lost in transition

Running naked

2012-01-23T21:05:00.000-08:00

That got your attention, didn't it?

After taking most of December off any type of regular training program, it has been a bit of a struggle to find my running legs. The little voice in my head screaming "I CAN'T!!!" has been quite loud on my runs as of late, and not surprisingly, it has been a self-fulfilling prophecy. Yesterday, I struggled through a 20 minute brick run (albeit in driving rain and a ridiculous amount of wind) and realized that by constantly beating myself up over being a shadow of my former running self, I was willing myself to be that way. If you think a run is going to hurt, it will. Even an inky-dinky little 20 minute run!

Moreover, I was totally fixated on pace. And again, not surprisingly, it bred disappointment. If you think you suck...then you suck.

It was time for drastic measures. Yes, it was time to gear down!

So sorry to disappoint though, this post is not about streaking. ;)

By gearing down, I don't actually mean running sans clothing. That would just be ug-ly! (and let me tell you, my running as of late has already been quite ugly enough, thank you very much)

What I mean by gearing down is getting rid of the gadget! My friend/enemy Garmin 310XT was silenced and tucked into my back pocket, out of sight. There was no goal time for the workout, no pre-ordained pace and no beeping for lap intervals. The rules of the naked game work such I was allowed to see the stats only after the run was over, but for the distance of the seawall was just me and my naked wrist.

And oh, how liberating it was not to be reminded of my pace, speed, heart rate, blood sugar, daily horoscope and all other kinds of minutia on a constant basis. I had almost forgotten how awesome it is to just run.

Get naked. I dare you. You'll be surprised at how liberating it is!

Special delivery

2012-01-04T13:18:00.000-08:00

In early December, I received an early Christmas gift courtesy of a good friend with some great connections in the tri world. This fantastic special delivery was in the form of the opportunity to try out a new product that GU is bringing to market early next year - the Roctane Ultra Endurance Drink.

Only 29 sample tubs of this drink mix even exist and I love trying new nutritional products....so you can imagine I was pretty stoked to have the opportunity to be a guinea pig. Squeak, squeak!

I will preface the following by stating that am not sponsored by GU or being incentivized to plug their products in any way, and in fact am a member of Team First Endurance, whose nutritional products are pretty damned impressive!

The marketing blurb for the Roctane Ultra Endurance Drink mix is as follows:

"Light tasting, carbohydrate-dense Roctane Ultra Endurance Energy Drink provides athletes easily available energy with the superior rehydration combination of sodium and potassium. Taurine, Caffeine, and the proven Roctane Amino Acid Blend provide extra energy, reduce muscle damage and maintain mental focus, while Beta-Alanine augments muscle buffering capacity and performance to help athletes meet their goals."

I have no way to tell whether my muscle buffering capacity was augmented or whether it helped me maintain mental focus....but I can report that after having test tasted this product, I am pretty impressed with it!

The texture is fantastic and I give it a full 10 out of 10 in terms of mixing well. No stickiness, residue or those gunky bits of goo in the bottle. The flavor is very mild and pleasant - although it was labeled as "tropical fruit", I felt that it was more of a strawberry-guava flavour. While some energy drink products containing protein can be milky or chalky in texture or have a funky aftertaste, the Roctane was incredibly smooth and mild. Apart from the color, you cannot even tell there is protein in it. I would even go so far as to call it yummy.

I used it for both light and heavy workouts, and found that it kept me energized and digested very easily on both types of workouts. Obviously I have not had an opportunity to use it in extreme heat, but it has the propensity to be a fantastic energy drink for long-distance training or racing.

All in all, I had pretty high expectations for GU's latest and greatest Roctane product, and it did not disappoint. While I have no input on the scientific aspects of the formulation or it's performance effectiveness compared to more traditional energy drinks, it really raised the bar for me in terms of energy drinks containing protein.

A resounding two guinea pig paws up!

Thankful

2012-01-04T12:32:00.000-08:00

We spent the final day of 2011 in the winter wonderland that is Garibaldi provincial park. Lots of snow and mild temperatures made for great conditions to explore the backcountry - add to that some blue sky, sunshine, incredible views and some fun-loving friends and you have a perfect way to send out what was an incredible year!

I don't believe in New Year's resolutions, so you won't find any here.

To me, resolutions are empty statements without a will to carry out the action to achieve them. As a result, they are just...empty. Only by taking action can we be effective in reaching our goals. I firmly believe that we alone define the nature of what is possible for us as individuals, and it is the manner in which we define our possibilities that creates a freedom to accomplish anything.

What may seem impossible is never out of reach.

I am thankful for many things in the year past that have reinforced this belief, and in reflecting on the last twelve months, am grateful most for the many positive influences in my life.

Don't resolve to do it. Do it now.

2011 race log

2011-12-13T22:59:00.000-08:00

New Year's Day Fat Ass 50k - January 1 (first baby-ultra!)
Steveston Ice Breaker 8k - January 30 33:22
First Half Marathon - February 13 1:31:29 (1st in AG)
Women Helping Women 10k, Maui - March 12 42:50
Run Til You're Green 5k - March 17 20:04
Sunshine Coast April Fool's Half - April 3 1:27:39 (1st in AG)
Vancouver Sun Run - April 17 39:38 (PB, top 100 women)
Mother's Day 5k - May 5 19:24 (PB)
Shaugnessy 8k - May 29 32:07
Ironman Boise 70.3 - June 11 5:00:55 (2nd in AG)
Ride to Conquer Cancer - June 18/19
Subaru Vancouver half-iron - July 3 4:48:35 (1st in AG, 6th female OA)
Kelowna Gran Fondo - July 16
Peach Classic Olympic tri - July 17 2:29:36 (10th female OA)
Sooke half iron - August 7 5:02:48 (1st female OA)
Las Vegas 70.3 championship - September 11 5:04:24 (8th in AG)
Victoria half-marathon - October 9 1:25:58 (5th in AG)
Diva on the run 10k - October 16 39:56 (3rd OA, 1st in AG)
Ironman Cozumel - November 27 10:18:52 (1st AG, 7th amateur female OA)

Pinch me

2011-12-07T21:00:00.001-08:00

OK...just one more reflect on Cozumel blog post. I know - blah blah Ironman blah!

The last few days, I've realized that I am still lost in a bit of a dream. So much has happened as I reflect over the last month, and yet, so very little has changed. It all depends on perspective.

Four weeks ago, I was teetering on that very fine line that one teeters on before a big race. I had been training, hard, for nearly ten months and was feeling fatigued, anxious and full of angst. There is so much that gets shut out when you are training - weekends disappear, social activities are non-existent and the struggle to stay on top of all of your commitments in life becomes close to unmanageable, leaving you perilously close to a complete breakdown. You just pray that when it is all over, that there will be some semblance of the life you left behind and that the pieces won't be too shattered to reassemble.

Then, press fast forward.

My sunburn is nearly gone, the pain is forgotten and those long-angst filled weeks before the race have faded into memory. I'm still tired, in fact probably more tired than I was a month ago. But, somehow, life is just on a more even keel. The anxious expectation is gone, replaced by a lingering happiness. The feeling of accomplishment, the thrill of achievement, the knowledge that the plan you followed and executed was the right one - every day they fade a little, but they are still bright enough to make the tired go away.

It is an incredible realization that the little inside voice saying "you can't" was wrong and that the other voices telling you "you can" - your coach, your friends, your family - were ones that knew better. Somehow you always expected that they were right, but that little voice inside is awfully persistent sometimes.

So as I start to pick up all of the things I abandoned while I was lost in training, the fading memory of race day will undoubtedly motivate me to push forward and give everything I can. I am truly blessed to have been able to finish that race, and to have had the guidance and support that enabled me to realize my goals. I am fortunate to have people in my life who support me in my endeavours (even though they may not entirely understand them), and I hope that I am somehow able to return the unconditional support at some point.

Yet, it is not enough to pat myself on the back and rest on those laurels.

I have a lot to learn, in triathlon and in life, and I am quite cognizant there will be many ups and downs on the road ahead. Goals evolve and take on a new life. The maybe-could have-would have that was four weeks ago is no longer an uncertainty, but I still need to work hard to manage what lies ahead. It is pretty crystal clear that I cannot stand still and lollygag in past success for long.....the world is continuously changing its expectations and will simply move on without me. It's time to pinch myself, wake up from the dream and start catching up!

Happy dance

2011-12-01T10:09:00.001-08:00

"You'll live many lives in an ironman. Coward, survivor, optimist, pessimist, superhero. Halfway through the marathon, you'll swear you'll never do this again. At the finish, you can't wait to do another."- random quote from slowtwitch forum

I saw this quote on slowtwitch a while back and really liked it. One of the unique aspects of racing an Ironman is that you truly do live many lives during the course of the race - it’s a gear-intensive endurance sport and your performance is a ultimately culmination of countless variables. Weather, training (too much or too little), nutrition and mental state all can impact the outcome of your day in a blink of an eye, never mind endless factors that are simply out of your control. It is not a matter of if things will turn sideways, it is a matter of when and whether you will be able to right-side it before it is too late.

Ironman Cozumel delivered on this promise. I experienced pure euphoria, anger, joy, fear and pride in equal shares. Training, experience and drive got me to the finish line, but faith also factored substantially in the day.

Traveling to Mexico for Ironman #3 was a gamble. I have never been one to openly share my race goals, but had worked with Coach Bjoern to develop my training plan based on some pretty aggressive time goals for my final race of 2011. As race day approached, I was quite cognizant that these goals might be a bit overzealous. Whereas the conditions in Vancouver were decidedly winter-like for the last few weeks of training, race day weather in Cozumel brought heat, humidity and wind. To make matters worse, I was nursing a seriously inflamed soleus, hadn't had a pain-free run in three weeks and had been fighting off some type of flu or cold. Alas, there is no sense in giving up before you begin so when the hot sun rose above me and 2300 other age groupers on November 27, I was ready to give it everything I had.

SWIM

Goal time 1:10; Actual 1:07:47

Ironman Cozumel is organized as a split transition, with theswim located about 9k south of town at an eco-park called Chankanaab. The swim course is a single,counter-clockwise loop in the amazingly clear, aquamarine water of the CaribbeanSea. Forget wetsuits – the water temp onrace day was 82 degrees! I am not a strong swimmer and my previous non-wetsuit swims in Las Vegas and Kona have not gone well. As such, I had a lot of pressure on myself to put up a reasonableswim time so I could expend less effort chasing on the bike and the run.

Mass start at Chankanaab

The start is in deep water, so along with the mass of age groupers I jumped off the dock to tread water shortly before 7am. The 2300-person field was predominately male (with only ~ 550 female participants!) and I knew it was going to be a roughswim. I had really hoped that the chaos would clear after the first turn like it did at IMC. Unfortunately, this was very wishful thinking - the swim was turbulent and congested pretty much the entire3800m. Since the mens' swimcaps were the same orange as the buoys, sighting was almostimpossible. I’d like to say that Ipicked the most efficient line around the buoys, but I certainly didn’t! The last 600m felt like forever – I haddrifted too close to shore and wasted a lot of effort fighting the current. I also did not realize that I needed to be left of thelast buoy instead of right (wtf?!), so ended up swimming upstream to correct myerror. That mistake cost me a couple minutes, but upon crawling out of the stairs onto the dock I saw a 1:07 on theclock. My first "life" of the day was indeed a happy one.

Despite my rookie mistake on sighting, I’d haveto say this was my favorite triathlon swim ever. Coming from me, that's saying a lot! Though not without challenges – the mass start, ocean swells, tricky sighting, as well as some jellyfish andstinging coral - the clear bluewater was simply stunning and it was absolutely fantastic to see the bottom theentire way!

I happy dancedthrough the showers and into the ladies change tent, but had afrustratingly slow T1. The officials didnot allow compression sleeves during the swim so I struggled to get mycalf sleeves and arm coolers over my wet limbs, and took an extra few seconds to ensure that I was doused withsunscreen.

BIKE

Goal time 5:30; Actual 5:23:19

Getting onto the bike is always the best part of a race for me. Even knowing I had a shitty transition, nothing was stopping the happy dance at this point. It was time for me and Miss Daisy to do our thing!

The three loop bike course covers the south halfof the island and is flat, fast and scenic. I’m more of a hilly-course girl so was very interested to see how I would fare on this type of course...no small ring required! Cozumel is always windy so I knew that my speed would be variable, and pacing on the first lap was kind of an experiment. The plan was to go out at a conservative but quick pace and hold my effort, but the sheer joy of being on the bike just overcame me - I went out hard and was having an absolute blast.

Despite getting slammed with a crosswind along the section along the east side of the island, that section of the ride was breathtaking. Windswept, pristine white sand beaches with crashing aquamarine waves. Big wow factor.

The ride into and through town was also fantastic. The crowd support was incredible and they absolutely went off the hook, particularly for female riders....CHICA CHICA CHICA!!! It was awesome. The first two laps were definitely the "superhero" part of the race. I saw my parents and Donovan in the crowd, waved, yelled, smiled and had a lot of fun.

Happy times with Miss Daisy, riding along the gorgeous east coast of Cozumel!

Then, around 135k on the bike, the happy dance abruptly ended. A massive peloton swallowed me up, and I was swarmed by rider, after rider, after rider. I'm guessing there were 30 or 40 riders in the pack and they were blowing past me on both sides. They weren't moving just a little quicker than me, they were moving a LOT quicker. Passing them was not a viable option so dropping off the back was the only choice I had. I righted myself into my base bars and kept shoulder checking as I dropped back. The only way to describe my state of mind at that point is rattled - I have never seen anything like this in any triathlon.

I was miserable as I let rider after rider pass me, with many of them acting like they were on a Sunday group ride. I had no idea what my relative position in my AG was and was too disoriented to be certain how many women were in the pack, but suspected that my chances for a Kona slot had just ridden away from me. I kept trying to rationalize in my mind that playing fair always wins, but even knowing I was doing the right thing I still felt totally defeated. I choked back tears, yet involuntarily they started streaming down my face. Wow, how's that for mental toughness? A couple other riders who had also been passed and chosen to drop off the back were kind enough to console me as they passed me, but I was pretty despondent at that point. I kept dropping back further and further while I tried to get mentally back on track from this setback. I had nothing in the tank and no will to get back in the game.

Then the Pissed-Right-Off phase kicked in - although my reaction was to hammer out the remaining bike leg, a little voice reminded me to stay focused on the big picture. High cadence, save the legs, take down all my remaining nutrition, go to the bathroom, wiggle my toes, relax. It was time to run like hell.

RUN

Goal time 3:40; Actual 3:39:31

While I'm sure that most coaches would not advocate anger as a strategy for racing, coming out of T2 I was intent on running down every single woman in that peloton. I literally came blazing out of transition, my first kilometer tracking a way-too-fast 4:36/km.

After a few kilometers of this, I realized that running like hell was a gut reaction, but probably wasn't the best strategy. A marathon is a long way and a lot can transpire. Despite my anger, I needed to run a little smarter so I settled into the pace that I had agreed upon in advance with Coach Bjoern - 5:10/km.

Lap one, almost done!

The run is a three by 14k loop through the centre of town. The course is pretty much pancake flat and runs seaside. It was lined with enthusiastic fans and the atmosphere was incredible. The first loop passed very quickly, but I remained intermittently angry about what had happened on the bike. I chatted with a few of the other runners and there were a few standout athletes that really helped me get past my mental negativity out on the run - a girl named Laura who I went back and forth with several times during the run, Sarah who dropped off the bike pack and still ran her way to an AG win, and a fellow named James who was running in a cowboy hat. Known as the "Iron Cowboy", he is aiming to do 30 ironman races this year while raising awareness for a famine relief charity.

Chatting with these athletes, even briefly, really put my anger into perspective. I realized that the focus on vying for an age group position as a relative indicator of my performance was misguided. Racing an Ironman is a personal event - me against myself, the elements and the distance. It is a journey to get to race day, and a challenge to see if I could do what I set out to do. There is an extreme amount of personal responsibility to play fair in sport and it is a choice to do so. At the end of the race, you can only know if you accomplished what you are capable of because you gave it your heart. Anger is a weak way to fuel oneself, but giving it everything, playing fair and knowing you succeeded on will alone is potent rocket fuel. And so began the "Optimistic" phase of my race.

And, as though the heavens sensed my change of heart, the sky opened up and it started pouring rain. Beautiful, refreshing, crazy tropical rain. Flash flood! I loved it. I laughed, I smiled - it was perfect Vancouver conditions. All those long days training in the humid west coast rain were paying off! The run course was totally flooded and we had to wade through knee deep water and streaming rivers of yucky, muddy water - it was so irreverent and a lot of fun.

As the run wore on, nasty blisters formed on the bottoms of both soggy feet and the humidity was stifling. Despite my initial amusement with the flash flood, the last lap was hot and painful. I counted steps to 100, repetitively over and over until I was down to the last 7k leg. But even though it hurt, it was a good hurt. There were crowds everywhere and their boisterous enthusiasm was incredible and infectious. The sun goes down at 5pm in Cozumel, so based on the dusk I guessed that I was around a 10:30 finish time and reverted back to my happy dance. There was a blissful satisfaction in those last few kilometres, knowing that I had achieved my goal. Nothing else really mattered.

I made the final left turn into the finish corral and had two surprises waiting for me. 1. I saw pink directly in front of me. 2. I saw 10:18 on the clock.

As background - a few years ago, I was outsprinted at a Five Peaks race in Whistler to lose by 1 second. You don't need to be taught that lesson very many times before it becomes ingrained in you to sprint if you see anyone in front of you at the finish. This reaction applies even more so if the person in front of you is wearing pink and happens to have a "R" on their right calf (the age groups were marked with letters, not numbers..."R" was W35-39). In my happy delerium, which even included stopping at the last aid station, I had failed to recognize that I was almost directly behind someone in my age group.

My friend Greg Welwood taught me that if you are going to pass someone, you don't think, you just GO!!!! So guided by the wisdom of my good friend, with 20m to the finish line, I executed the Welwood sprint to finish Ironman Cozumel in 10:18:52.

Sprint finish....for the AG win!

The Icing-on-the Cake moment came about two hours later when I checked the results. That hail mary finish line sprint ahead of woman-in-pink had garnered me the AG win by 3 seconds. I couldn't have dreamed up a better finish.

I owe huge thanks to a lot of people who have supported me on my journey to this incredible day and throughout what has been a fantastic season.

Ironmom, Irondad and Iron-Donovan for supporting me not only in Cozumel, but day in and day out as I pursue these crazy dreams.
Coach Bjoern for believing in me and helping me be a stronger athlete, both mentally and physically. Your dedication to your athletes and your knowledge is unsurpassed.
My incredible teammates and training partners at Speed Theory, LifeSport and Pacific Spirit Tri Club.
Particular thanks to Stephanie, Geoff, Gregg, Jeanne, Rachel M., Rachel K, Doug, Sarah and Genevieve. You are inspiration to me and I love you all for it.
Everyone at Speed Theory, and especially Jeremy, Doug and Murray. I know I say this over and over again, but you are truly awesome.
My swim coach Dale for putting up with our chatty, not-so-serious lane at Canadian Dolphins and still trying to help us improve. It's not an entirely lost cause!
Dr. Aaron Case and RMT supreme Greg Welwood.
Susan, for being a role model and so incredibly grounded, and for reminding me to focus on the positive above all else.

XO,
R.

Elevation

2011-11-24T19:00:00.001-08:00

Ways to elevate your mood into the stratosphere after three weeks of miserable rainy weather and a bad bout of the taper crazies....

Hop on a plane to the Mexican Caribbean, and find an awesome condo with a killer oceanfront view. Sit on the deck and watch the boats go by in the aquamarine sea.

View from the deck. Not shabby at all!

Go for your first outdoor ride on your tri bike in months (yes, months!). Pick a nice, flat road with a swift tailwind for extra exhilaration. Live in the moment, relishing the feeling of an effortless (tailwind aided) 38kph in the aerobars, willfully choosing to forget how the return trip in the headwind is going to feel. Wheeeee!

Turn off to Chankanaab, the swim venue. Lots of flat, flat, flat roads!

Make tracks to an isolated white sand beach for an incredible swim in crystal clear, bathtub warm, calm reef-protected ocean. Yes, I really did use the adjective "incredible" to describe swimming. Hello little fishies!

Playa Palancar...beautiful!

Enjoy an amazing dinner of freshly pressed corn tortillas, local avocados and peppers, grilled skirt steak (with the hottest damned jalapenos ever), yummy green salsa, beans and rice.

Muy bueno!

Taper crazies

2011-11-21T11:41:00.001-08:00

With one week to go until Ironman Cozumel, I am smack in the middle of my taper and have lots of extra time on my hands. You would think that being able to relax and essentially do nothing would be a luxury...but it's not. The taper crazies have fully set in.

Some sure signs of the taper crazies:

1. You remove 15 hours of training volume from your weekly schedule. Instead of feeling perky, you feel tired, lethargic and exhausted. A 20 minute run feels like 20 miles.

2. You randomly burst into tears and/or freak out on anyone offering any type of suggestion and/or criticism (constructive or otherwise) concerning your race plan, equipment or pretty much anything. Sorry to the person who suggested that my bike isn't fast and whose head I promptly chewed off in spades. I'll forgive you in eight more days. Maybe.

3. With the extra time on your hands, you scour training blogs and twitter posts to use as ammunition for continuously second guessing your own training. (i.e., I have a rest day today and have done nothing but eat quinoa and bananas, yet so-and-so is doing an eight hour ride followed by a 30k brick run and 50 x 100's on 1:15. All that on the Sunday before race day! I must be doing the wrong thing!!!). Then you promptly remember how painful it is to run 20 minutes, abandon the thought of any such brick workout and go back to the blissful ignorance of eating quinoa and bananas. (Refer to #10 regarding abandoning thoughts.)

4. You make a race checklist and check it. Every day for a week. Twice on weekend days for good measure.

5. You remove caffeine from your diet so you feel a little crazier than normal.

6. You get up a 4:30am for four days in a row to validate that no caffeine makes you crazier than normal.

7. In conjunction with #5 and #6, you remove sugar and wheat from your diet for a dose of super-crazy. Convince the people at work that you are totally nuts when you cannot participate in any social activities or lunches because every item contains sugar and/or wheat in copious quantities. For even more fun, inform them that you are on a "caffeine-free, gluten-free, low sugar, low dairy, high protein diet" and watch them look at you like you are really strange.

8. Extra weirdness points when asked by people why you are not eating anything but rice cakes and respond that it is because you are about to swim 3.8k, bike 180k and run a marathon, successively on one day and completely on your own free will, not because you are being held prisoner or being chased by a voracious animal of some sort.

8. At the same time as you espouse the aforementioned ridiculously clean diet, pack your bags with race "nutrition" including maltodextrin and fructose laden gels, caffeine pills, salt tablets, immodium, naproxen, tums, a precautionary dose of broad-spectrum antibiotics and aloe for the nasty sunburn you are about to get. (Yes, there are two #8's. See #10.)

9. You experience arbitrary aches, pains and twitches and convince yourself that they must be the manifestation of a chronic injury. Then you take random internet questionnaires to analyze all said aches, pains and twitches. You successfully self-diagnose yourself as a borderline exercise addict. However, you score very poorly on Cosmopolitan's "Are you Good-Girl Hot or Bad-Girl Hot" quiz because there is no such thing as "Crazy-Taper-Girl-Hot".

10. You act antsy, irritable and demonstrate no attention span whatsoever. Squirrel! What IS this blog post about anyway?

R.

Staying in the game

2011-11-09T12:17:00.000-08:00

Lost: Mojo.
Reward offered.

When I signed up for a November race, I had not fully appreciated how much motivation impacts preparation for a late-season race. It's easy to say that the reason I participate in triathlon is because I love it but I'd be lying if I said that staying focused and positive over the last couple weeks has not been a huge challenge.

Big volume is tough, even at the best of times. A rigorous training schedule forces you to be diligent with nutrition, rest and balancing the rest of your life with the physical demands of training. Juggling workouts, laundry, meal planning and a (more than) full-time occupation is a sport of its own. Nasty weather adds a further layer of complication, as does the loss of willing training partners. While many of my friends have been kicking into their off-seasons, I've been slogging out the miles in the rain. (A friend of mine commented yesterday that he'd rather stick his Remembrance Day poppy in his eye than join me for run intervals. I kid you not.)

Add to all of this a loss of spark....and it's not a good thing.

A discussion with Coach Bjoern about my waning enthusiasm made me feel hopeful that what I'm going through is somewhat normal for a late season race and he made a number of helpful suggestions. He has an incredibly positive and experienced outlook, and it is one of the reasons that I really like working with him - he knows that training isn't solely about logging miles, but also about keeping yourself psychologically in the game. Four weeks before race day is where the mental aspect comes into play, and like it or not, the reality is that the mental aspect of training is just as challenging as the physical.

Staying focused on a late-season race requires a lot of mental reinforcement. This includes not only positive thinking, but a re-examination of the goals I set for both my upcoming race and next season. Why am I doing this? Are those goals attainable? This evaluation exercise was somewhat helpful in tempering my flare-up of demotivation because it reminded me why I am doing what I am doing. I was so mired in the details that I was forgetting what the big picture was.

Quite the opposite of the big picture, I have also discovered that compartmentalizing the task at hand is helpful in staying focused. By taking one step at a time, breaking each workout into pieces and mentally reinforcing success at each stage, it is much easier to maintain mental focus. Not a 4000m swim, but a series of smaller workouts each with an intention. Not a 30k run, but a warm up, main set and cool down. A 18 hour training week taken as a whole is daunting - eleven specific workouts with stated goals, however, are less so.

Mental reinforcement has also come in the form of keeping negative thoughts from occupying space in my head, especially while training. Last weekend I spent twelve hours on my bike(s), the last four of which I did alone in nasty, rainy conditions. I literally saw only 3 other cyclists the entire time - it was cold, wet and lonely. In order to get through it and stay focused on my goals for the workout, I broke the ride up into one hour pieces at the end of each of which I was allowed to have a "treat" provided I met my stated goals for that block. I know it sounds silly, but it worked. I "treated" myself to a 5 minute rest stop to warm up my hands, an extra peanut butter bonk bar, and a mango smoothie. Yes...an extra bonk bar. Pretty lame, right?

The mind is an incredibly powerful tool and it is amazing how much a little extra reinforcement can make your body more willing to do what you are asking it for.

And sometimes, like yesterday, there is simply no reinforcement strong enough. I had a tough run workout - 8 x 1 mile at threshold - and only managed 5 repeats. While I've realized that occasionally failing workouts is a reality, it is still hard at the time to rationalize why every inch of your body simply says "no".

And yet, I know that after this week that the taper will begin and this will pass.

One day at a time.

Trust in the training.

Eat. Rest. Stay positive.

You CAN teach an old dog new tricks!

2011-10-12T12:29:00.000-07:00

After doing triathlons all summer, the fall half-marathon beckoned. Compared to doing tris, packing for a road race is oddly simple....runners, shorts, a couple gels. My nerdy triathlon checklist felt very lonely as we packed for the thanksgiving long weekend trip to Victoria. Donovan was running the full, I chose to run the half - in my preparations for Ironman Cozumel in November, running 26.2 was just too much.

The half would be an interesting experiment on what happens to leg speed after a summer of 70.3 training. My PB open half marathon was set in April, at 1:27 and nearly 4 minutes faster than my previous PB. I was also feeling under the weather earlier in the week and had taken a couple days off training, so while it was an impromptu taper I knew my health was not 100%. Realistically I was ready to accept not setting a PB in Victoria.

On my side, however, was Friday track. Since the beginning of August, Coach Bjoern and the LifeSport crew have on a weekly basis forced me outside my comfort zone. Let's be clear, track sessions hurt. They force you to push harder than you are comfortable with and teach you how to be mentally tough. They also train you to pace and hold speed.

To preface the rest of this blog post - I do not have a track and field background and started distance running in my late twenties. Anything less than an eight minute mile is / was something I deemed too fast for my liking and I had long ago resigned myself to being a MOP runner. Solid 3:30 marathoner. Solid 1:40 half marathoner. But could I go faster? No way.

4 minute kilometers are my friend, dammit!

So that being said, even a year ago, I would have laughed out loud at the ambitious race plan we set out for the Victoria half. Go out at a 4:05 kilometer and drop the pace as the race progresses. Good one. Prior to 2011 I had never even cracked 42 minutes on an open 10k, never mind going out that fast on a half-marathon.

The morning brought perfect race conditions and all weather-related possible excuses were rendered useless. I felt rested and good. It was on. No excuses.

And you know what? I didn't quite make my race plan, but those track sessions really paid off. 21.2 successive kilometers at an average 4:02/km pace (6:30 mile)...and I have a new half marathon PB of 1:25:56! Apparently Friday track does teach an old dog some new tricks!

A sum of the parts

2011-09-17T22:18:00.000-07:00

Like most people, I am multi-faceted, complex and ever-changing. I may be an accountant, but I am also a daughter. A sister, an aunt, a spouse, a friend, a dog mother, a mentor, a mentee and a partner.

I am also an athlete. For my entire life, I have dabbled in sports and did not really identify as any particular kind of athlete. I figure skated for eighteen years, have skied for as long as I can remember, played soccer until university and did my time as a gym bunny post-university. Oh yes, I am also a bit of a tomboy. :)

At some point during last three years, I have also evolved into a bizarre creature known as a triathlete. Runners, swimmers and cyclists alike make fun of us (come to think of it, most everyone makes fun of us). We are a spandex-clad, compression wearing, gear-loving oddity - a hybrid of each of the aforementioned sports, yet universally maligned by purists in each discipline.

Becoming a triathlete is a slippery slope, and honestly I don't think that any of us really sets out to become as deeply imbedded in it as we end up. I started off with half-marathons, then marathons, bought a road bike, learned how to swim and signed up for my first triathlon because it looked like it might be fun. Each successive step seemed at first an impossibility, but add a little can-do attitude to each thing you do in this life, and it is amazing what one can achieve.

After the typical first triathlon near-drowning experience, I was hooked. Yes, you read that right - I royally sucked at it, and I was hooked. A unique form of sadomasochism? Only if you view it as such. As a person who believes that hard work is rewarded, this sport is indeed a challenge. Throw in three very different disciplines, as well as the fourth ever-important discipline known as nutrition, and you have a geeky addiction for type-A corporate weekend warriors like myself.

While you can dabble in triathlon as a hobby, it is very easy to become entrenched in it. I am often asked by others, particularly people whom I work with, why anyone would ever possibly want to exercise so much. It is so hard to explain training to those who simply don't understand. What I do is more than just being "fit". I do it because I love it and I am passionate about it. Triathlon, even more so than running, has been an experience of developing friendships with a community of like-minded people I have met along the way; it is about being committed to my goals and about pushing past self-imposed limits to achieve things I thought previously impossible; and most of all, it is about learning to exercise will, strength and discipline.

It seems hard to find fault with those reasons.

And yet, I still find myself constantly defending my choices to those who view that a 36-year old professional should stop trying to be Peter Pan and start creating a life more traditionally acceptable. (Ironically, the concept of 36-year-old professional female is still so relatively new that it is unclear what this "traditionally acceptable" cultural role entails, particularly in light of many who remain subscribed to the stereotypical image of the WASP-white male professional!) What is it that certain people find so offensive about a triathlon-loving accountant? Is it the commitment to something in addition to my job that is an issue, or perhaps an uneasiness with the non-traditional role of a spandex-wearing female who is comfortable in her own skin and loves sports? Why is it that physical challenge considered trivial and non-essential by certain people?

I see this criticism as narrow-mindedness, a complete inability to see that a person can be passionate and committed to something in addition to the traditional roles of work and family.

While I can certainly respect that endurance sports are not for everyone and probably rank as being a bit extreme to the casual observer, I have no doubt that triathlon has made me more goal-oriented and has taught me dedication, perseverance and even humility. These attributes serve me well in my life, particularly in my career - I also find it hard to believe that anyone could possibly believe that these attributes actually detract from my career.

There seems to be cognizance and general consensus that exercise is important, but the common excuse of most people is that they don't have time. This is such crap. If you are passionate about something - whatever that is - you make the time.

Although triathlon can be a social sport, the workouts are truly individual and can be scheduled with regard to professional commitments without the risk of disappointing an entire team. It is not that swimming, biking or running ranks in importance to work, family or any of my other commitments; instead I meticulously carve time out of my schedule to make it all fit in. It would be easy to make excuses and say I don't have the time....but with some ingenuity anything is possible. I schedule my workouts the same way I do any other meeting, and I stick to the plan - as a result, my life is ridiculously regimented but I'm happy that way. I've learned to wake early and be efficient with my time (it is amazing how much one can get done before 7am!).

There is a huge commitment that comes with the goals I set for myself. It is weeks, months, years of effort that go into training - not one day. I have good days and bad days, and just because I am tired doesn't mean I am burned out and need to give up. You get out there, you do what you have to do, and you commit yourself to being better. This is not all that different from anything in life - it is not a single deal that makes a career, but rather the culmination of years of effort and the ability to consistently perform over time. Does taking an hour from my day to run negate my success as a professional? Not when a career is measured in terms of resilience and fortitude over the span of a lifetime.

The sense of personal accomplishment I have achieved over the past two years is thrilling and anchors me with an infectious love and passion for this sport. I'd never have imagined that I would toe the line at Kona, but I got there. I've pushed myself to the limit and prevailed. Triathlon has taught me that I am my own biggest obstacle, and that in order to achieve my goals, I need to be determined to take ownership over my own success. Does this make you mentally tough? You bet. There is no corporate training session that could ever achieve the same mental toughness that running an Ironman marathon through lava fields in forty degrees teaches you.

At a conference this week I was reminded of a favorite quote that really echos how I feel about the criticism I get -
"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat." - Theodore Roosevelt

Perhaps it is my own naive belief that a successful person needs to be well-rounded, and perhaps someday I will stop being Peter Pan long enough to see the error of my ways. For the meantime, however, I will continue to be passionate about all the roles that I play. And those critics? Well, they can just try to keep up. :)

What happens in Vegas....

2011-09-14T22:21:00.000-07:00

Traveling to Las Vegas to race a triathlon seems like a strange thing to do indeed, but when the WTC decided to relocate the Ironman 70.3 World Championship to Lake Las Vegas I was intrigued. Heat, wind, hills. Sounds kind of like a certain volcanic island in the Pacific, doesn't it?

In the days preceding the race, we toured around the course and started to understand why the race organizers selected this location for the championship. It was clearly intended to be a challenge - non-wetsuit swim leading to a hilly and hot ride in the desert, capped off by a 3-loop run course on black asphalt. Even T1 was difficult - you had to exit from the water, run nearly half a km to transition and then drag your bike up a switchback. Yes, a switchback!

Race morning did not start well. Note to self - remember to bring your nutrition to transition in the morning! Upon realizing that we had forgotten our GU Brew in the hotel fridge, I set off on a panicky 2k run back to the hotel (in my flip-flops no less) to retrieve my nutrition before the 6am closure of transition. Not good! Luckily, the medical director was kind enough to give me a ride part of the way back to the hotel and another kind spectator gave me a lift part of the way back to transition so I made it back, frazzled, precisely at 5:53am. 7 minutes to clear out of transition.

A typical 70.3, it was a wave start and I lined up with my AG for a 7:20 start. We were over 40 minutes back of the pro start and watched all of the pros exit the water before we even got our toes wet! The swim course was one-loop in the rather murky waters of Lake Las Vegas. What a strange little man-made lake. It was an in-water start, so each wave had 10 minutes to warm up and move into position as the preceding two waves moved through to the start. Even though the water was over 80 degrees, it felt cold and I was shivering as I treaded water, or perhaps it was just nerves. The start was surprisingly rough for only 100 people and I was pretty battered around for the first few buoys. I managed to hold myself together enough not to backstroke and by the turnaround had passed a few blue-capped swimmers from the preceding wave, but started to struggle on the return. The sun was glaring on the left and I found bilateral breathing to be dizzying, so ended up breathing right only and stalling my stroke. I felt awkward and heavy in the water and knew even before I hit the dock that my time was rotten.

Sure enough, some quick math in subtracting 40 minutes from the clock time told me that I had spent 38 minutes flailing around. I was annoyed, frustrated and felt like crying. The little devil voice in my head really, really wanted to quit....it was Kona deja vu as I plucked my bike off a nearly empty bike rack. I had exited the water in 62nd position - almost 2/3 to the back of my wave. Really must learn how to swim.

As I mentioned previously, the exit out of T2 was a rather treacherous switchback and my heartrate was jacked by the time I hit the mount line. But along the way up the switchback came a game changing moment. Several of the spectators were being really rude and saying stuff like "see ya later, suckers" and "glad it's not me out there". It was inappropriate, rude and really, really got me going.

I may not be able to swim, but I can ride. And ride I did. I took the first hill fairly conservatively up to Lake Mead Parkway and through the no-pass zone, but after hitting the first hill it was game on. The course was challenging and hilly, but definitely easier than Sooke and I had nothing to lose. As Bjoern had suggested, I rode the uphills hard knowing that I could recover on the downhill and by the time I hit the turnaround, I was averaging 35kph. My favorite moment of the day was the reaction of one of the men in the 35-39 age group whom I traded positions with a couple of times (me on uphills, him on the downhills). When I finally passed him once and for all on the final descent out of the park, he shook his head and said "but you are just so little".

The turnaround yielded headwind and it was at that point that I became cognizant of the heat, so I dialed it back a bit. I was also starting to struggle with nutrition - the aid stations were quite far apart and I was not able to quickly refill my water bottle so ended up running out of water three times. The air was dry, my eyes stung and the back of my throat was scratchy and parched, yet I had to keep riding fairly hard to stand a chance to make up for my abysmal swim time.

By the time I reached T2, I was dehydrated and headachy. Fearful of bonking or getting a migraine, I spent extra time in transition drinking water. Three full glasses of it! Without water, my run would be over before it began and I knew I had to pay special attention to hydration.

I'd like to say that I felt springy and happy coming off the bike...but the adjectives dull, hot and wilted come to mind. The black asphalt was hot, so very hot. The three loop run course was full of people as I exited T2 and there were spectators everywhere. If the run had been more desolate, it would have been easy to surrender to the hot black asphalt, but with so many people around there was no chance I was giving up easily. I spotted Bjoern almost immediately, and he told me that I had ridden myself into 8th place in my AG with a 2:39.

Wow, talk about information having an impact. My heart leapt a little....8th in AG at the WC! My hard work on the bike had paid off!

Then his next words put fear into the mix - "run as hard as you can, you can do it". Damn. There were only 4-5 minutes separating 4th to 12th place in my AG. If I fell off, there were several girls hot on my heels that would happily run me down even despite the heat and the challenging course.

Because of the looped run course, it was very hard to tell who you were passing in your AG and whether they were even on the same loop. I was passed very quickly by two girls who were absolutely cruising and started getting down on myself. The run course was 1.5 miles down, 2 miles up, 2 miles down, 2 miles up, 2 miles down, 2 miles up, 1.5 miles down. The downhill hurt, the uphill hurt and it was just damned hot.

What I rationalized, however, was that if I was hurting...chances are everyone else was too. Those girls passing me fast and then walking up the hills were messing with my head, and by the third lap I had had enough of the tortoise and hare bullsh*t. My pace may have been slow, but it was steady, and that was somehow good enough to keep me in the game. I skipped the aid stations on the last hill and ran as hard as I could, passing two girls in my AG in the last 2k. I felt really fast but I know better :)

Sub-5 was out of the question, but I ended up holding on to 8th in my division with a 5:04. Am I entirely satisfied with that? No, of course not. My swim was disappointing and I lacked focus for much of the run. Knowing that a mere 3 minutes separated me from the podium really made me kick myself after the fact.....but I'll be back for another go!

There were some victories - my bike split was the second fastest in my AG (one of the fastest female age-group times of the day) and I was able to bounce back from being dehydrated coming off the bike. I played it smart, took the time to drink and eat on the run, and ended up feeling great at the end. So while a podium finish would have been nice, 8th in AG is not terrible.

Big hugs and thanks to Donovan (meep! meep!) and the awesome Vancouver team - Stephanie, Rachel, Susan, Stephen, Amy, Andrew and Mark. I'm thinking Whole Foods should definitely give us preferred customer cards for our patronage this week!

Huge thanks and gratitude to Coach Bjoern for all the wisdom, support and patience. You somehow managed to keep us all in line and still smiling despite the tough heat training.

And of course, huge props to Speed Theory for your support and assistance. That bike split goes to you. :)

Team Oss-some!

Riding Miss Daisy

2011-09-03T21:30:00.000-07:00

I'm so happy today!! Speed Theory pulled out all the stops and managed to accomplish the impossible...a replacement frame for my poor Ora in less than a week.

So without further ado, I introduce you to the very beautiful and fast Oopsie Daisy!

Gratitude

2011-09-01T12:16:00.000-07:00

Prior to his incredible race at Ironman Canada last weekend, my friend Doug wrote a very thoughtful and practical blog post about not freaking out before race day. With ten days to go until the Ironman 70.3 World Championship in Las Vegas, his comments are particularly relevant to me right now. Although unintentional, I find myself trying to gain control over the things that I cannot control (such as being obsessive over weather reports...42 degrees....really?!) and getting mired in the details and the "what ifs".

So, I methodically started making my way down Doug's to do list in an attempt to control the chaos. I stocked up on nutrition, made my geeky checklists (and got laughed at by Donovan for said checklists), and put my plan together.

Yet, as much as we try, events beyond our control happen despite the best laid plans. And sometimes the unthinkable happens.

To do list item #2 is bike cleaning. This means REALLY cleaning it, with a toothbrush and q-tips if needed, because everyone knows that clean bikes go faster. Plus...I love my beautiful bike and she's much prettier when she's sparkling. So last Friday evening I set to work making Ora pretty.

And there it was. The unthinkable.

An unmistakable, horrible hairline crack on my beautiful girl. I cleaned the top tube again, desperately hoping that the thin line taunting me was just an apparition. It wasn't. The horrible, sinking realization that my top tube was cracked set in. Donovan came for a second opinion and the look on his face spoke the truth. The unthinkable was real - my beautiful, precious race bike was cracked.

I was crushed. Tears flowed. The rule about not panicking, totally forgotten. Sheer panic set in.

But, alas, I promise you that this story has a happy ending. Those who know me know that I regularly wax rhapsodic about Speed Theory. The folks there - especially Jeremy, Doug, Mike, Murray - have been so very patient and kind with me. I walked into their shop two years ago with an entry to Ironman and a dream, and got from them in return patience, support and knowledge. And if you are skeptical, I beg you to read on.

If you are looking for a commodity, you can shop online. You'll probably get a really good deal on your brand new, heavily discounted, late model P4 of unknown origin and you'll look really great riding those cheap Zipp 404 firecrest wheels with your half-price powertap from e-bay. Triathlon is an expensive, gear-oriented sport and it is definitely hard on your wallet to keep up with the Joneses in the carbon, aero-everything department.

But is it worth it? A resounding no. The more expensive the purchase, the more you have at stake. If you expect a warranty to be honored or if you expect any aspect of service whatsoever, then you deal with a local bike shop. Yes, the prices are retail. However, you are not paying for a commodity or an off-the shelf do-dad - you are paying for the service that goes along with your precious carbon baby. You are paying for the expertise and the time of the people that you involve in your purchase decision, and for the help you will inevitably need when your bottom bracket starts to click or your seat position hurts your knees. When I made the decision to buy a tri bike, Doug literally put in hours of time with me bouncing around options and ensuring that the fit was right before I committed. Utilizing this expertise only to walk out the door and purchase the bike on the internet would have been an embarrassing deception.

If you are unconvinced and still sitting poised to buy those Zipps on craigslist, perhaps the rest of this happy story will change your mind.

I sent a note to Jeremy about 30 minutes after finding the crack. Friday night, 9pm. It was the weekend of Ironman Canada, the shop was closed for three days and the timing could not have been worse. Yet, Jeremy responded instantly and jumped in without hesitating. Less than a week after discovering the damage, a new frame is on its way. Not only that, but he took the time to speak with me several times and allay my fears. While the butterflies in my stomach will not entirely settle until the new frame arrives, I am floored by the astounding responsiveness and immediate plans set in place to resolve the truly unthinkable by these exceptional individuals at Speed Theory and Podium Imports. Their unwavering commitment to service and the product they sell, in my mind, is unparalled.

Cracks in carbon frames are remote, but manufacturing flaws can occur despite anything we might do. For this reason, many manufacturers (including Orbea) stand by their products with lifetime guarantees. However, it is the strength of the relationship with the seller and distributor that will enable a warranty claim. This story could have ended very differently. Had I bought my bike second hand or had I purchased it on the internet - I would now be sitting without a bike for my A race. Up sh*t creek so to speak.

Instead, I chose to deal with a local bike shop (and its distributor) who are committed to their product and dedicated to the highest level of customer service possible. It is relationships that create a sound purchase, not the mere act of purchasing itself. Jeremy and his team have gone above and beyond for me, and quite frankly, I cannot express enough gratitude right now.

Sorry, internet, this customer is sold.

(Thank you - Jeremy, Brian, Doug, Mike, Murray. You are A-list, second to none in this bike business stuff.)

We did it, hooray!

2011-08-08T22:47:00.000-07:00

Last week, Donovan and I took care of my niece Lily for a day. Lily is terribly precocious for a two year old (or maybe that's just auntie pride), full of spirit and very, very energetic. When we dropped her off at home after the day together, she was still chuffed and raring to go (possibly from all the sugary treats we fed her). Donovan and I, on the other hand, were completely wilted. We can run marathons....yet a two year old does us in.

If you've been around a toddler recently, you also will be very familiar with Dora the Explorer. Lily is all about Dora. When Donovan tried to steal her fries, it's "Swiper, no Swiping!", and when she's proud of achieving something, she shouts the ubiquitous "We did it, we did it, we did it, hooray!". It starts to stick in your head.

So on Sunday in Sooke, when I found myself in the very, very surprising position of leading the women's half-iron race with 10k left in the run, the mantra stuck in my mind with every painful step was, you guessed it, none other than we did it, we did it, we did it, yeah! Stupid, yes. But true. I didn't willingly choose this mantra, but it just kind of stuck there like that terrible song you hear on the radio that will not leave your mind.

The Sooke race was my third half-iron race this year, and a tune-up for the Las Vegas 70.3 in September. There is no better way to gauge how everything is coming together by putting it to the test, and this race definitely challenged me and surprised me in so many ways.

Having had three categorically shitty race swims so far this year, salvaging a decent swim was goal one. Bjoern suggested to me that perhaps I should try to start further to the front since the half-iron field was small. This terrified me....but I listened. And it worked! Although there was some confusion when the gun went off (we weren't ready), I found myself very quickly in a nice little pod of swimmers being pulled along. Those mythic "feet" that I have heard so much about really do exist! To be fair, the "lake" was actually more like a little puddle, barely big enough for the two-950m laps, so this was a very tame, calm open water swim by any standard. Yet, it was exactly what I needed to gain a little confidence with the whole swimming thing. 33 minutes and change later (still not very fast by swimming standards but positively blistering for me), I bounced out of the puddle and into T1. So, so very awesome!

A week before the race, it was announced that a new bike course was to be unveiled - a "scenic" and "spectacular" one-loop course along the coastline. They adjectives they failed to include were "ridiculously hilly" and "savage"! At over 1300m of elevation gain, the bike course had almost as much elevation as Ironman Canada, over half the distance. So it was with a sense of foreboding that I set off on Ora....knowing exactly what was in store for my poor legs.

The first section was surprisingly fast, notwithstanding a few rollers, and then we hit the hill up to French Creek. It was literally like slamming into a wall - 39/25 felt like the hardest gear in the world and felt like I was doing about 5 rpm. I honestly thought I would just tip over! There was nothing I could do except muscle my way up a few of the nastier inclines and my rule about spinning up the hills went out the door. Quads be damned, I was standing.

I had trouble getting into a rhythm because the course was so undulating and there were only a few sections where you could really put your head down and work. The last 20k felt like a total slog - I was exhausted and totally relieved to reach T2! I knew my split would be comparatively slow to recent races, but even so, seeing 2:50 was discouraging. My legs were shot and I had a half-marathon to run.

T2 was a comedy of errors. My bottle of cola exploded all over me and I kept dropping my nutrition. I ran about 2k with my hands full of stuff and must have looked so silly while I settled in. After 3k, cruise control was set into my planned 4:30/km pace, legs surprisingly responding well. And then the mental game started.

At T2, someone said "she's 2 up" and I had no idea what they were talking about. Then a few other spectators told me the same thing - Stephanie was 2 minutes up on me, in the lead. In Boise I wasn't able to sustain an AG win on the run, so I was nervous that I would outpace myself and end up getting run down again. I also really like Stephanie and didn't feel particularly competitive against her - she had swam and rode extremely well to be out front and if the cards dealt a win for her, I was good with it. Yet, I was cautiously optimistic that if I ran the race I wanted - a 1:35 half - that I could catch her.

Cruise control on. Lap 1 almost done!

I reached Stephanie on the short downhill at the end of the first lap and we spoke briefly, cheered and laughed. It was a positive, wonderful experience - a friendly competition that made me work to be as strong as someone whom I admire as an athlete and a person (Stephanie, you are awesome!). It was just fun. And honestly, if the roles had been reversed, I'd feel the same way.

It would have been great to end the race then, feeling happy and giddy. I started running out of steam after the second turnaround, and even the adrenaline of being in the lead started to wane. Even though the volunteer on the bike lead was fabulous and tried to distract me, the last few uphills were grueling. That's when Dora snuck into my head. Silly, silly run mantra....but it worked!

I did it!

5:02:48. Not a PB, but a solid ride on a very tough course, a run executed as planned (1:34:38 split)....and for the very first time, a win. Pretty cool, huh?

Big cheers and hugs to Stephanie for motivating me to keep kicking it to the end, to Donovan for being a doting cheering squad, to Bjoern for encouraging me to be more confident and to Jeremy, Andrew, Don, Mikey and Jared for being friendly faces out on the course (and congrats on your races!). Huge thanks to all the good folks at Speed Theory for their support (and for keeping my Ora in fine working order to crank up those hills), to Doug in particular for reminding me not be a stressball and not least of all to Lily, who taught me the silly little mantra that kept me in the game. We did it, we did it, we did it, hooray!!!

How to be a weekend warrior in 5 easy steps

2011-07-19T17:11:00.000-07:00

One of the definitions of weekend warrior in the urban dictionary is "a person who holds a regular job during the week which restricts their ability to....partake in awesome activities, and thus plans epic weekend adventures to compensate. As much variation and quantity of awesomeness is packed into the weekends as physically possible...".

This past weekend was definitely in the style of the weekend warrior, and involved much packing, logistics and some ingenuity to make it all happen. It was my mom's birthday, so our family gathered at my aunt and uncle's lovely home in Westbank (sans aunt and uncle, who were traveling) to celebrate. Two kids, two dogs and a small space always makes for interesting times!

Not being one to pass up a little suffering, my training plan amidst the birthday festivities was to participate in the inaugural RBC Kelowna GranFondo on Saturday and do the Peach Classic olympic distance tri on Sunday. The across the lake swim was also going on Saturday morning...but alas, it conflicted with the bike ride! :)

All in all, there was much awesomeness jammed in (and very little sleep). Some tips on how to make a successful and awesome warrior weekend for yourself:

1. Look the part

The package pick-up and expo for the Kelowna GranFondo was smooth, efficient and well organized. We were quickly handed our packets and ushered into the merchandise area, where I was very quickly ~~suckered~~ persuaded into assembling myself a custom pair of Oakley split jackets. To be honest, I have had my eye on these very slick looking frames for a while, am a bit of an Oakley junkie and was probably a very easy sell. However, Jeff from Fresh Air Concept was adept at enabling my weakness for high-priced sunnies - he assembled a great looking black and red pair to match my Speed Theory kit, including two pairs of vented lenses so very quickly that I was unable to balk and run away!

Do slick matching sunglasses make you a faster weekend warrior? You bet!

2. Ride hard or go home

5am Saturday morning brought a gorgeous, calm and sunny Okanagan summer morning. Yippee!! There has been so much Saturday morning rain slogging this season that the prospect of NOT having to ride in the rain brought on relentless joy. My brother-in-law Mark and I showed up early, which turned out to be needless because the good folks at TOIT learned many a lesson from the start of the Whistler GranFondo (WGF) last year. Unlike the chaos of the WGF start, Kelowna was laid-back, well organized and really pleasant. Lots of bike racks, potties and space to move, and the riders in general were less aggressive and pushy. There were only 1400 riders and the event had a grassroots, happy feel to it.

Without ado, at 7am sharp we were off for a (supposed) 115k journey along Okanagan Lake to Vernon, with a return loop back to Kelowna along Kalamalka Lake, Wood Lake and through Oyama. The route was stunning and challenging, with a tough climb up to Predator Ridge, some interesting and technical terrain and fast downhills featuring gorgeous vistas of the valley over Kalamalka lake. I was really impressed with the course support - you pulled over and the volunteers just took over. Water bottle full, handfuls of snacks and off you went!

This was a catered training ride for me and I rode fairly hard, averaging a very nice 31 kph over some challenging terrain, including a very slow 5k section of gravel. Mark fell victim to a couple flats, so Ruby and I were left to show those mamils how it's done. Was back and forth with a good group of riders after Vernon, but on the way back to Kelowna we were accidentally steered off course by one of the volunteers. It didn't seem right to turn, but the vollie said nothing to the contrary so I followed her directions around the corner. Along with 2 other riders, we rode just over 4k before realizing we were off course. The nearly 9k diversion cost me 20 minutes! Although it is not a race, I was frustrated that the vollie steered us off course because (a) I did not want the extra distance and (b) it cost me one of the top women's positions (and bragging rights!) in the ride. Argh! Official finish time - 3:56 for 123k, but would have finished at 3:37 were it not for the bad directions.

Big warrior points for not only riding hard....but doing extra to boot! Hey, at least I looked good doing it... ;)

3. Be a survivor

Saturday afternoon and evening brought with it rain clouds, kids pool time and the usual chaos in the extended Frank family household. My sister's dog consumed not only all of poor Bogey's treats but also my pre-race nutrition (who knew dogs ate Bonk Bars?), numerous pieces of furniture were broken in (or is that broken?) and my niece Lily now has a lifelong fear of birthday sparklers. Best quote of the day: "Mama burned a hole in my pants and a hole in my leg!". Luckily, many a two-year-old's problems can be solved with chocolate cake.

With some stroke of luck, the casualties of the weekend were limited to a number of bottles of wine, a mouse (poor mouse) and Lily's leggings. Being a weekend warrior is all about surviving. That being said, some cautionary words of advice to anyone planning a family reunion: damage deposit.

4. Tri hard

If you thought a 5am wake up on a Saturday morning was bad, try 3:45 am on the subsequent morning. Weekend warrior day 3, sponsored by caffeine.

The 6:45am start for the Peach Classic not only necessitated this early start, but also required me to be supremely organized. Car packed and ready to go the night before, I left Westbank promptly at 4:45am to make it to Penticton at 5:30am for check in at the race. An Olympic distance tri does not play to my strengths at all, with its inordinately long swim leg compared to the bike and run portions. However, my recent toils over open water swimming made this a good training experience for me, knowing ahead of time that to do well I would need to swim well. And, to be clear, I just don't swim very well at all.

The two loop swim in choppy water was rough on me. It was a personal success insofar that I managed not to panic despite the torrid conditions and congested start. I knew coming out of the water that I had a lot of ground to make up on tired legs, but embraced the challenge of the chase. The 40k ride along the Naramata bench is fast, helluva good time on a tri bike and by the time I returned to transition I felt somewhat better about things. The flat, looped run course along Lakeside was little boring, but you do get to see everyone around you. My legs were tired but in a good way and I put in a solid run effort at what was essentially half-iron pace (but dismayed to note that the 10k was almost .5k long, turning my 42 minute 10k into a 43-something posted time!).

After a dismal swim, I posted the 6th fastest women's bike split of the day and 5th fastest women's run split of the day to finish a solid 10th woman and 4th in a competitive AG. Really, really must learn how to swim dammit!

5. Eat, drink, be merry

Hedonistic gastronomic excess rounded out the remainder of the weekend. One must really bask in the simple pleasures once in a while, particularly when those simple pleasures include a reward of french fries, fish tacos and wine touring. The Naramata bench boasts some fabulous wineries, amongst them some incredible family-run, small-lot vineyards that are definitely worth seeking out. The hidden gem award of the weekend goes to Nichol Vineyard, while humble and unapologetic in its simplicity, easily has the best Okanagan Pinot Noir I have ever tried. The tasting was manned by an interesting fellow named Matt, who could tell you not only where the location of the crop was that produced the wine you were tasting, but also had an unassuming intelligence about the entire operation and the wines they produce. We got to try not only the bottled vintages, but also several wines direct from the cask in varying states of readiness...all incredible. I almost don't want to spill the secret!

You would think that all this weekend warrior awesomeness would just make me tired, but it doesn't. Today, back at work, I feel energized, enthusiastic, inspired and look forward to the next great adventure!

Sometimes racing is training!

2011-07-03T20:20:00.000-07:00

I entered the Subaru Vancouver half-iron on a whim only four days before race day. The weather forecast was looking decent and my recovery post-Boise was at a point where I felt I could at least put in a training effort for the duration of the race. After all, the race is basically in my backyard and is a fantastic opportunity to try out some new things during a race that otherwise holds very little priority for me.

So this race report is essentially my personal assessment of how I faired compared to my very quickly drawn up objectives for this training race. It is also interesting to have quantifiable comparatives since I did the same race last year.

Swim Goal - Be Calm, Cool, Collected.
2010 result: 37:27; 2011 result: 35:47, -1:40

The swim is undeniably my weakest link. I am extremely nervous in the water and not a comfortable swimmer in the least - swimming in large groups of churning open water is absolutely panic-inducing. I hyperventilate, forget everything I have ever learned and usually end up doing some version of the funky chicken backstroke.

Today was no exception - I failed miserably in my attempt to stay CCC, and even did WORSE at controlling my panic than I did at the Canada Day 2k only two days ago. The first lap of the course was miserable, and I just could not pull myself together. I collected myself on land after the first lap and managed to talk myself back into getting in, but barely. It was a rough, frustrating swim and I never got comfortable.

Swim objective rating: FAIL.
Serious, serious work on composure in open water starts required.

Bike Goal: Tone it Down.
2010 result: 2:44:42; 2011 result: 2:39:28, -5:14

While I felt that I could improve on last year's time, I wanted to experiment with generally toning down my bike speed to see if it would improve my run. My time goal was 2:40 - this is about 5 minutes slower than Boise, but still almost 5 minutes faster than last year. I also wanted to ensure that I was taking in nutrition properly - gel every 30 minutes and a bottle of GU Brew per hour.

I find this bike course difficult - the 4 laps at UBC are choppy and I find it challenging to get in a rhythm. By the second lap, you get lost in the sea of riders doing different paces and the turnarounds really mess up consistency. There are short fast sections, but it is very, very broken up. I rode the first lap at about 80% effort and was pleased to find that I was dead on goal pace at 40 minutes. Overall, my ride felt very comfortable, and none of my previous headache or vision problems reappeared. It was a somewhat frustrating to make a concerted effort to slow down to ensure I took in my nutrition, but that was the plan so I stuck with it. It was also difficult to hold back and not push the way I usually do on the bike. Time-wise, I executed exactly on plan albeit feeling like I had left quite a bit out on the course.

Ride objective rating: SATISFACTORY WITH COMMENTS.
Although I felt great getting off the bike, think I left a little too much out there. The nutrition plan worked well, but still feel that I have not found the exertion-level sweet spot.

Run Goal: Hang it Together, No Stopping!
2010 result: 1:35:34; 2011 result: 1:28:26, -7:08

Aside from my very first sprint tri (which was incidentally 2 years ago today!), I have never run well off the bike. My tri run has always been a battle of attrition and sheer will, the results of which have always fallen far short of my open times. With a concerted effort this year to improve my run efficiency and leg speed, particularly on shorter, more intense distances, I have PB'd all my open distances from 5k through 21k - this has put more pressure to improve my tri run times because I know I can do the pace. It's just about hanging the run together after time spent on the bike.

My goal pace was a 4:30/km. This is quite a bit slower than my most recent half-marathon pace of 4:08, but I have never managed to stay at 4:30/km during a half-iron much less anything faster, so I didn't want to overextend my wish list too much. Coming off Boise I have also not been doing much run work - only 20-30k per week - so felt that 4:30 was a realistic goal.

To my dismay, my left sock was missing from my shoe in T2 so after rifling through all my belongings (and wasting way too much time), the run started on a frustrating downturn. I would be the one-sock girl today...and the chafing on my left foot started almost immediately. Despite the discomfort (my foot is a blistery, bleeding mess!), I was able to ease into a 4:30 pace very readily and surprisingly found the pace to be extremely comfortable. 5k passed, 10k passed, then 15k....all very quickly and I felt great. The last 5k was a bit tough due to some serious headwind, but I knew that the tailwind would be there to carry me home.

Nutrition-wise, I have always suffered stomach upset on the run, so decided to carry with me a small flask of flat cola to get through the first 6-8k. It was great!! Not only did I not need to worry about sloshing drinks all over me at the aid stations, but the flat cola totally settled my stomach and was enough to get me through the run without having to rely on the dodgy race-supplied carb drink...which I knew from past experience does not work for me. I also managed to take care of (ahem) my "business" on the bike so was able to go without my typical potty stop during the run....I realize that this may be TMI for some, but the 2 minutes or more spent dallying at a porta-potty is a huge time waster!

Unlike Boise, not a single person passed me on the run today. Also unlike Boise, which was a total sufferfest at which I walked almost every aid station, I walked only once for about 15 seconds to take down my gel with some water. I played my own game, using my rules and my pace. It was a great feeling to finish strong.

Ride objective rating: EUREKA!!!!!

So very happy with the run today - it was consistent and comfortable. Will I try to go faster? Yup. But for today, I'm happy as can be.

Overall 2010 result: 5:02:48.

Overall 2011 result: 4:48:35.

So apparently sometimes racing can be training. Despite the very positive end result and finally breaking that magic 5 hour barrier (albeit on a short course), I believe I can do better.....but continuous improvement is really why we do this sport, isn't it? I learned more today than I do on most training weekends, and now can turn my attention over the next couple of months to applying the lessons learned today. :)

W35-39 podium! Yay!!

Thanks and props to the good folks at Speed Theory for their support, for everyone who volunteered and everyone who came out early on their Sunday morning to cheer! It was a beautiful summer day!

Giving back

2011-06-28T16:10:00.000-07:00

When someone shares something of value with you and you benefit from it, you have a moral obligation to share it with others - Chinese Proverb

It's easy to take and not pay it forward. We're all busy with professional and personal demands and it is very easy (or convenient?) to forget the bigger picture sometimes. The reality is, though, that we all rely on others no matter how independent we try to be. Whether it is reliance on our family, on our employers or on complete strangers, there is not a single day that goes by that any one of us can say that we were truly independent. As a result, I feel quite strongly that if you take, you need to give something in return.

I've spent the last two weekends doing a little to give back - first, two days for the Ride to Conquer Cancer and last weekend as a volunteer at the Scotiabank Half-marathon. Despite some nasty weather for the two-day ride, it feels good to be part of something important to my community. Over $11 million dollars were raised for the benefit of the BC Cancer Foundation as a culmination of the efforts of nearly 2,800 riders and volunteers!

Although somewhat less philanthropic, it's also easy to forget that every single athletic event is the culmination of the spirit of volunteers. The events I participate in would simply not happen were it not for the many people offering their time and assistance! It is a positive first step to say thank you to the volunteers and express appreciation for their time while you are wrenching gatorade from their hands or getting them to help you put on a pair of stinky sneakers in transition.....getting involved yourself is a fantastic way to give back to the sport.

While road races and triathlons have a big volunteer component, ultra running in particular impresses me with its culture of volunteerism. Many ultras even require their entrants to have proof of volunteer hours as a pre-requisite for participation! Although I'd like to believe that everyone who participates in events takes the time to volunteer at one, I know many people who simply never have given back....and think that it's a great idea to make it a pre-requisite!

So, the next time you have a recovery week and a few hours, get in touch with a local race director or sign up as a volunteer on the website of one of your favorite races. Not only is it a great way to get a front row seat for the action, but the reality is that many road races and tris would not happen without the effort of volunteers. So, for the love of our sport(s), get involved! :)

Team KPMG at the Ride to Conquer Cancer

Oozies and Auras: Boise 70.3

2011-06-12T11:03:00.000-07:00

We arrived in Boise, ID a few days early to scout out the race course, relax a little and get acclimatized. Three aspects of the race concerned me - the crazy north winds that gusted out of nowhere for the three days leading up to the race (notably in the early afternoon when I would be on my bike), the brutally cold water temperatures in Lucky Peak Lake (which were rumored to be between 10 and 12 degrees depending who you spoke to) and the noon wave start.

Cold, cold Lucky Peak Lake

Unlike last year, I had not actually raced any triathlons leading up to this "A" race but had trained solidly since January. My goals were twofold - to go under 5 hours, and to earn a qualifying spot to the 70.3 championship in Las Vegas in September. Lofty goals? Yes, I suppose they were, but why aim low when you can go big. I have been running well in the last few months and feeling comfortable on the bike, and although swimming is still mostly about survival, felt that these goals were in my reach....of course the weather, competition and nutrition are always the wildcards.

Boise is set up as a two-transition race, with the swim and T1 at Lucky Peak Reservoir, a partial out-and-back bike course back to town, T2 smack in the middle of downtown, followed by a double loop, flat as a pancake run along a green belt. Due to inclement weather and cold water in previous years, the start time is an anomaly for 70.3 races....high noon.

You would think that the noon start would afford some sleep in time and a relaxing morning, but it was not to be. The two-transition set up and bus shuttle made for a long morning, and it was honestly a little disorganized. Some people were even pushing athletes out of the way to get their kids on the shuttle! (Um, remind me again why your three kids need to be in transition three hours before the start?!) We ended up waiting in line for 45 minutes for the drive up to Lucky Peak and had way too much time before the race, in the sun with limited shade. The 5 hour, totally unnecessary wait is somewhat suspect to my later issues, and my tummy was not happy before the race.

The start was definitely interesting. Everyone stands like lemmings baking in the hot sun in the holding areas. One by one the groups jump off the dock for an open water start, with 4 minutes between waves. My AG was the 6th wave out and the sound of 100 women hitting the cold water was pretty funny....lots of squealing! The water was a very fresh 11 degrees and took my breath away, but we had about 2 minutes to tread water and get used to it. The small wave start was quite civilized but the 4 minute offset was not enough to string everyone out, by 800m we caught the groups in front (each wave had different color caps). I felt that I had a better swim than the time reflected and felt pretty decent considering the water temp (11 degrees), but was surprised to see how slow I was. All in all, kind of disappointed with the 38 min swim.

The W35-39 swim lemmings lining up for our chance to jump off the dock

T2 was very long - we had to wind our way up a boat ramp to the wetsuit strip area, then into the bike area. Had an uneventful transition, although the mount line was very congested and one poor girl even flatted coming out of T2.

The bike course was surprisingly fast. After having treacherous north winds for the days leading up to the race (which essentially creates a lot of cross wind on the partial out and back), there was only wind enough to create a little bit of sail with my spanky new Shimano C50s. Despite my heartburn on the deep dish wheel choice, the gamble paid off. The temperature was warm, but not uncomfortable, although it was definitely a dry heat that I am not accustomed to.

I took a salt tab + gel at 30 min, drank regularly (GU Brew + carbo pro), and then started a schedule of gel every 30 minutes. This has worked in the past....but not today.

At 30k into the bike, I started having vertigo and a visual disturbance, like looking into bright light. I had to focus really hard on my peripheral vision to see the road and could not see clearly straight in front of me. This went on for about an hour, and I seriously thought about getting off the bike. The visual disturbance moved around to the far outside after 15-20 mins, so I was able to focus on a point in front of me but it was still like looking into bright sun and not being able to get rid of the flash. I have had migraines in the past, and they are always preceded by this "aura", so I stayed on the bike betting that a headache was coming but that my vision would improve. Took one tylenol at this point, but was scared to take another salt tablet as I was worried that the sodium may affect the headache.

In retrospect, dehydration may have been the problem and I should have probably taken the sodium. I also should have been a big girl and got off the bike, because I was in no condition to stay on. I was unable to look at my garmin for this period and rode entirely by feel, mostly in my aerobars while focusing on a point in front of me. I'm shocked at how decent my ride was in these conditions, just kept the legs moving in a fairly easy gear. Maybe not knowing is the key?

The race officials were all over me from about 35 miles on, and I spent a lot of time passing so as not to get penalized. I actually thought I might be riding erratically and that they were watching me (hmm...paranoid much?!), so finally asked if everything was OK and they said yes, that they were just keeping an eye on the AG leaders. I was totally floored that in my state I was leading the bike in my AG - very odd position for me to be in. I rode into T2 and my entire rack was empty, confirming what the officials had told me. Being the sole person on my rack afforded me the luxury of 2 volunteers in T2, so I got to leave a tornado of gear in my wake and had a pretty good switch. The long T2 time reflects a much needed potty stop, at which time the vision cleared up a little and I decided to give running a shot.

The first 2k on the run felt awful. My legs were cramping and it was hot. I stopped at the first aid station to collect myself, then plodded along. I eventually started feeling so-so on my feet, but never good. The headache started and the vision disturbance was off and on. It seemed to improve when I would stop moving, so there was a lot of walking through aid stations. Cold sponges were money.

My run time was poor, but I can't expect much better for the amount of time I spent nursing myself. One girl in my AG passed me at 8k in, and there was nothing I could do. There was another behind me, but I was able to pull off a decent enough last 4k to fend her off. While I was running, my pace was decent - 4:30 or so - so the tempo work seems to be paying off. Trouble was that I had to stop so much to allay the cramping, headache and sight issues that I never managed to get any consistency in my pacing. I didn't see the clock at the finish (or really anything on the last 3 block stretch!) and just made a beeline for the chairs at the finish and relished sitting down. The blurred vision and dizziness persisted for about 15 minutes after I finished, the headache for hours.

Props to the friendly volunteers in Boise who put on a great race (apart from the shuttle issues). The transitions were well organized, the aid stations were frequent and the volunteers were fantastic. Our drop bags were organized and ready for us to pick up less than 30 minutes after the finish, and the awards were promptly and efficiently managed. Great small town vibe, fantastic finish area, tough but good race course.

There are a number of aspects about the race that I am happy with. My bike split was the second fastest in my AG (by a mere 30 seconds) and I felt really comfortable on my bike. I was pleased with my run pace (while I was moving) and feel that the tempo work is paying off. And my sunscreen worked! :)

I am disappointed at barely missing sub-5 with my 5:00:55 finish, but extremely appreciative of the fact that I finished so close to my goal. Was very, very close to my first DNF and probably had no business being out there in the shape I was in - this was the hardest day I have had in a race in a long time.

In retrospect, I think that mild head stroke and/or dehydration could have been the cause of my woes. I'll never know for sure, but think that the hours in the sun preceding the race, dicey pre-race nutrition and the shock of the cold water contributed towards making my head really unhappy. Donovan and two of the other racers I know had serious, serious stomach / dehydration issues and really rough days that took mine on a run for its money. Donovan started cramping on the bike and unfortunately ended up spending much of the run vomiting - not the way you want to spend your first half iron. He was not along, however - I also witnessed a number of runners in front of me "decorating" the foliage so to speak.

Posing with our unbreakable trophies - Rachel with an incredible 3rd place pro finish in her first 70.3

My suffering and effort, however, was good enough to earn myself the right to do it again at the Las Vegas 70.3 championship, as I finished 2nd in my age group and earned my slot. Less than 2 hours later, with my forehead oozing from helmet chafing, I had handed over payment for my slot....we are funny creatures, aren't we?

Rule #5

2011-05-24T15:00:00.000-07:00

We Vancouverites are a demanding lot. We have the pleasure of living in what is (arguably) amongst the least harsh of Canadian climates and yet, the weather is a constant source of dismay. I find it funny.

As a transplanted Albertan, I am quite appreciative of the fact that I can enjoy the outdoors year round. Sure we have to endure some rain, but a little rain (and sometimes even a lot of rain) is a heckuva lot more pleasant than six months of snow. Hell, we are such lightweights when it comes to weather that people in the lower mainland think a "snow day" is justified at half a centimeter!

So I was totally amused this morning with a conversation between two guys at my office who were lamenting about the awful weather on their Saturday ride. When asked if they were geared up properly, they looked perplexed. I repeated the question - were you dressed for the weather? Did you have rain jackets and booties? No, they did not.

So perhaps this is intrinsic proof, not that "Vancouver sucks" as these two had so quickly concluded, but perhaps that there is no such thing as "bad weather"....just bad clothing choices and bad attitudes. :)

We hardly live in an geography of extremes. It gets rainy, but rarely snows. It gets warm, but is rarely scorching. I would totally understand the complaining if we lived in heat ravaged desert or in permafrost. But seriously guys, we live in Vancouver. It was probably 8 degrees with a little rain. So you got wet. My guess is that you probably dried out. Oh, and there is this really fantastic stuff called "Gore-Tex". Check it out sometime.

I'm not saying that it is pleasant to be stuck in nasty weather. In fact, just a couple weeks ago, I was caught in a torrential downpour while riding on the Sea to Sky. Although that ride was definitely hypothermia inducing and was not something I would want to repeat on a daily or weekly basis, the truth is that we really don't have it all that bad. There is a solace and peacefulness about riding or running in the rain that I just cannot explain. It reminds you that you are alive, and that you have the ability to move. Of course, when you stop moving it gets cold but it teaches you to just keep moving.

I read a poem about weather in Running Times a while back that really resonated with me. I repeat it every time that I try to justify skipping a workout because of rain:

Whether the weather be fine,
Or whether the weather be not,
Whether the weather be cold,
Or whether the weather be hot,
We'll weather the weather,
Whatever the weather
Whether we like it or not.

Usually I find that repeating this is enough to get me out in rain, wind, whatever the weather. Hell, if I waited for perfect weather, I would be hard pressed to do most of my workouts!

Scotia Half 2007 in a deluge. Lucky for me, I am waterproof.

I have also realized that as challenging it can be to motivate myself to get going in suboptimal weather, it is rare workout that I am not glad I have done once I am into it. More often than not, I find that there is an unspoken joy to be found in those rainy day experiences. The childish delight of stomping through muddy, wet trails. The solace of being the only person on the seawall in the rain. Watching the mountains meet the mist. Laughing at how ridiculous it is to ride sideways in the wind. You learn to buck up and get it done, and I believe, you learn a little about yourself in the process!

Shhh.....training in progress

2011-05-17T21:29:00.000-07:00

Swim, bike, run, repeat. Throw in work, sleep, eating, dog walking and lots of laundry and you pretty much have a synopsis of the past few weeks. I honestly feel sometimes like I have 3.5 spare minutes a week!

Yet, there is light at the end of the tunnel. It is my last build cycle before the taper into Boise 70.3 and although I've been admittedly negligent at blogging, I feel very focused on the workouts. With a few more weeks of hard work left, focus will soon shift to recovery and race day preparation. My run and bike workouts have been challenging me as of late, with more attention to strength and speed than last year. Training for my first Ironman last year was about survival. This year, with my goal race having only half the distance, the focus is on speed, endurance and fine tuning.

(Well, except for the swimming part....which is still about survival.)

Interestingly, I have noticed some adaptations to the training schedule. Even with the number of hours I am putting in, there is definitely less a** dragging than last year and more tail wagging. Whereas at the same time last year I was battling fatigue and constant hunger, the biggest challenge this spring has been the incessantly brutal weather...rain, rain, cold, wind, rain, hail, yeeeeech. Waking up to my long ride last Saturday and hearing the rain pounding off the work required more than a little mental game to get going. Thank goodness for training partners....that ride was definitely brutal to get through!

I have also realized that I have now sunk pretty far into the triathlon lifestyle and think it is pretty amusing. Can't imagine the last time I bought myself some jewelry or new non-workout shoes, but I did get pretty excited about a spanky new torque wrench that I just treated myself to. Yes, a torque wrench. Manicures and lip gloss? Ha. Let's talk chamois cream and SPF anti-chafing lip balm instead. Wednesdays are hill repeats, Friday evenings are bike maintenance and Sunday afternoons are about compression socks. Carbon, not diamonds, are this girl's best friend.

May long weekend will mark my second pilgrimage to Penticton this year (we had an incredible training weekend over Easter). Fingers are crossed for more Okanagan sunshine and I'm looking forward to a fun weekend with friends, perhaps the first lake swim of the year and some great riding and running!

Keep pedaling, more giving!

2011-04-10T13:27:00.000-07:00

This week I met my fundraising goal for the 2011 Ride to Conquer Cancer! Yay!! With much thanks to some very generous friends and clients, I am now able to participate in the ride for the second year in a row and have raised over $5,700 during the last two years for the benefit of the BC Cancer Foundation. But it is not time to sit back....there are still two more months until the ride and lots more fundraising to do!

This year, our corporate team has 33 members and has an aggregate fundraising goal of $133,500. We've been busy planning fundraising events and getting our team ready for the two-day ride down to Redmond, WA. We have ordered some awesome new custom ride Sugoi kits so our team will stand out on ride day (props to the folks at Speed Theory and the custom design team at Sugoi for helping in the process)!

What has been really inspiring about being involved with the corporate team is hearing the stories as to why people do the ride - hope, optimism, philanthropy and determination really do spring eternal to efforts like these. The acts of fundraising and riding a bike for two days is nothing compared to the struggle to beat cancer, and in my mind, the very least we can do. Cancer affects so many - it is a disease that strikes young and old alike, and every personal witness to it has a heartwrenching story to tell.

Survivors who participate in the ride can chose to ride with a flag on their bike and it was really astounding to look around the crowd of riders and see all the flags. It was a testament not only to the power and conviction of the human spirit, but makes you feel grateful for every day you have to live. Survivors are role models to us all, and those that have experienced loss are equivalently relentless in their determination to make a difference.

The reason I have chosen to support this particular charity is because I believe that they are also equally determined to make a difference. The BC Cancer Centre is focused on advancing treatment and research, developing new therapies to save lives and very boldly seek a vision of a world free from cancer. I'd like to believe that this is possible, for the sake of us all.

Although there are no more ride spots open for this year, if you have time to spare, you can get involved as part of the crew or by supporting one of the riders. As for me....I think that with two months to spare, that perhaps I need to increase my fundraising goal!

April Fools!

2011-04-09T18:24:00.001-07:00

On Sunday, a group of us journeyed over to the inappropriately named Sunshine Coast for their April Fool's Half marathon. It was a very early morning, starting with a 5am wake up and journey to Horseshoe Bay to catch the ferry over. Good thing Starbucks has an April special on grande cups of brewed coffee, because I needed it!

The ferry was a little late, so it was a bit of a scramble to take care of all the pre-race necessities and I was not able to get an adequate warm up. I barely made it to the start by gun time! I was not fussed, however, because this was really a "C" priority race for me.

The low priority also gave me the opportunity to experiment a little because I didn't really care about the outcome. It was essentially a race pace training run and an opportunity to change a few variables, try out a nutrition plan and mess around with pacing. I was not particularly rested and my diet was not very angelic in the days preceding the race, and two cups of pre-race coffee is totally uncharacteristic given my history of tummy troubles in races. As it turns out, the experiment was a good one....but could have gone very wrong!

The start was moved this year so it was downhill and the pace was a little hot from the get go. After a couple of kilometres of a very fast pace, I settled into a pack of a few runners and found myself running alongside the venerable Rachel Kiers. Rachel is an athlete whom I very much admire and respect - she is incredibly strong, a remarkable triathlete and is one of the most lovely and cheerful people I know. I knew I was probably out too fast if I was in the same group as Rachel, but I let it ride. I felt good, the downhills were fun and I had nothing to lose, although she was probably tired of me sticking around!

Checked my watch at 10k and realized that I was under my open 10k time by almost 2 minutes. Again, shrugged it off and accepted that a blowup was imminent. And yet, by the time the hilly section around 16k arrived, I realized that I could hang on for the finish. The last half was not as fast as the first, with some challenging uphill and rolling sections, but it was a very fast course for me. I usually struggle at the half marathon distance and for some reason, on Sunday, there was just no struggle. The last three kilometers were rolling and downhill and at this point Rachel got away on me (she presumably had gas in the tank, and I did not), but I was too happy to care.

A week ago, if someone had told me I would break 1:30 on the half, I would have shrugged it off as an April Fool's joke indeed....but my finish time was 1:27:39 (no fooling!), a full four minute PB. Reflecting on the race, it was really gutsy to go out so hard, but the gamble paid off. I guess that's what C races are for....to play around with something and see how it turns out. The 2 cups of coffee stayed put, the nutrition plan of a gel every 30 minutes seemed to be fine and for reasons unbenownst to me I was able to hold what was essentially my 8k pace for a full 21.2. Hopefully I will figure out the "how" very soon because whatever it was, worked!

Project D.I.2011

2011-03-29T20:59:00.000-07:00

Sugoi announced an Ironman Canada contest today and will be giving away a couple entries into Ironman Canada 2011 as well as some awesome Brand Champion gear!

As many of you know, my boy Donovan was a very patient and diligent Iron-fan last year....not only did he put up with the trials and tribulations of my inaugural Ironman race in Penticton last year, but he did super-ironfan-double-duty in Kona only 6 weeks later. I know what you are thinking - that it is pretty demanding and tough work to travel to Kona to drink fruity cocktails, swim at the beach and so selflessly offer oneself to cheer on the racers – but don’t doubt it, he truly gave himself to the cause.

Here is some photographic evidence of his hard work and the never ending duties of an Ironfan:

Ironfans know that hydration is important...

Ironfans always ensure that the water temperatures are appropriate!

Ironfans are not afraid of taking one for the team at the Underwear Run.

Ironfans also excel in providing moral support

Truly, an Ironfan Supreme. And for this he should be rewarded!

MWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

So project Donovan Ironman 2011 aka project D.I.2011 involves serving up a little bit of “whose your daddy” to the big D. BUT I NEED YOUR HELP!!

With no further ado, I ask two very simple things of you to help along with Project D.I.2011:

1. LIKE SUGOi!

Here is the part where I wax rhapsodic about SUGOi. Not only do I already think they are awesome, but this contest is just further evidence of their awesomeness! I have been proud to be part of their Brand Champion ambassador program for the past three years and think it is quite fabulous that they help promote and support amateur athletes. We blog and show off the gear, and they make great gear for us to show off...all a very symbiotic relationship. Not only is SUGOi a Vancouver-based company (yay for Vancouver!), but they make some of the best fitting and sharpest looking tri, run and bike gear in the market. (Have you SEEN the new Speed Theory kit by SUGOi?! SO AWESOME!!) I am truly proud to represent....and love the gear!

So step 1.....go to Facebook, look up SUGOI Performance Apparel and LIKE them!!

2. LIKE Donovan’s entry!!

The scoop on the contest is this: Donovan has posted an entry explaining why he wants to be the BOY in SUGOi at Ironman 2011.

He bought the P2. He goes to swim class. He joined the tri club. He’s been an iron-fan and he knows how this rolls...you swim, you ride, you run, you conquer. Right!? So let’s get him there – all he needs is an entry to the impossibly sold-out Ironman Canada race in August.

That’s where Step 2 comes in.... scroll down to his post on the SUGOI Facebook page and LIKE it!!!

It is THAT simple. And with any luck, I will get to be an Ironfan this year!

Muchos gracias!

Train-cation in Maui!

2011-03-23T18:52:00.000-07:00

By train-cation, I don't mean rail travel....I mean training while on vacation! One of the reasons I chose to spend a couple weeks in Maui, apart from escaping the incessant winter rain, was to help motivate my training. Although I realize that packing lycra and spending copious amounts of time exercising while in tropical paradise is not for everyone, for me it was a chance to re-invigorate my love of running and riding while not worrying about how to effectively cram 14 hours of workouts into a busy work week.

And what a train-cation it was!! Highly recommended! Despite the lack of a formal workout schedule I managed to trample over 400 kilometers of pure Aloha fun by foot and pedal. There was lots of interesting new terrain to explore, some amazing weather and stunning scenery - hence, most of the rides and runs involved a lot of stopping to gawk and take pictures (I will tell you it was to take pictures, but mostly it was to catch my breath).

I was also able to participate in two fun road races to remind myself how hard it is to run fast in Hawaii! The headwinds, heat and humidity are certainly very challenging and not something that I have been accustomed to during the cold, wet, soggy Vancouver winter.

One of the other *best* parts of train-cation is that the third required triathlon activity known as "swimming sucks" was relegated to fun swims only. Aimlessly following black lines in pools is strictly prohibited while on vacation.....only beach swimming with turtles and dolphins allowed!! And let me tell you, swimming doesn't suck nearly as much in lovely clear, blue water.

Some favorite pics from traincation!

Amazing ride in Upcountry Maui with sweeping views over the west coast of Maui...

Stunning vistas from the Munro trail in Lanai

Our dolphin greeting in Lanai, hello hello!

Awesome views of the West Maui Mountains

Aah, the red dirt you can never remove from your runners....but worth it!

Sometimes even P2s get beach breaks!

Awesome place for a rest stop in Kapalua!

Although Maui has some incredible beaches, I personally cannot imagine not exploring past the obvious tourist destinations and trying to capture a bit more of the personality of the island. Certainly the most incredible parts of the island, in my opinion, are those that take a little more effort to pursue - and admittedly I have probably not even scratched the surface of everything that Maui has to offer in the several times I have visited! The misty forests of Makawao, the rolling greenery of the Upcountry, the vast lava fields in the south and the desolate beauty of Lanai, all taken in by foot or by cycle, are quite the wonder to behold indeed. The smell of the sea air, the eucalyptus, the birds....what an amazing way to experience the land of Aloha.

Beantown shines again

2011-02-16T16:19:00.000-08:00

The buzz in the running world today was around the announcement made by the Boston Athletic Association (BAA) over its registration and qualifying process. Last October, entry to the 115th Boston Marathon filled last October in just over 8 hours, leaving many qualified runners shocked and in the lurch. It was my opinion that the beantown 26.2 lost a little of its lustre with this stampede approach to registration...and apparently others shared this view. There were calls for drastic changes to qualifying times - the question was, how would BAA respond?

And now we know. Not only will the fastest runners receive preference in the registration process, but runners will also need to post faster qualifying times across the board (5:59 to be exact).

It has been interesting to read blog posts and message boards in response to the BAA's decision. A clear message has been sent - the BAA wants the Boston Marathon to retain its prestige and competitiveness, and it wants the entry procedure to reflect this mission.

I agree in principal with the changes being made. If you want to run the Boston Marathon, you need to run the fastest time possible. If the race fills with people who bettered their BQ by 20 minutes, then so be it (we know that is theoretical...it won't happen). But in my view, the race could conceivably fill with runners meeting their quals by 10 minutes or more. The faster time you post, the better chance you have of getting in - it is no longer strictly a case of meeting a qualifying standard and getting automatic entry.

Notably, the BAA has failed to address concerns of gender preference in its adjustment of the qualifying standards. The difference between male and female qualifying times at any given age remains 30 minutes, and I tend to agree with the view that this gap may be too wide.

If the new qualifying standards had been in place when I started running marathons, I would not have qualified for Boston on my second marathon. Indeed, it would have taken me several more attempts but in retrospect that would not have been a bad thing. Running marathons is complex and even after 17 marathons, I am still learning. I think the motivation to run faster, smarter and stronger drives us to train faster, smarter and stronger. Entry into the Boston Marathon should be a reward for success and not a rite of passage. (Nice way of saying it is supposed to be hard to qualify!!)

It also seems to me that the BQ is not necessarily the benchmark we should seek. Seeking continuous improvement and betterment is the goal (well, perhaps with some fun thrown in there!) and the new registration process aims to capture that. If you meet your BQ, you run the risk of not getting in. If you want to guarantee the BQ, you need to knock that PR outta the park. And after all, isn't that what we are supposed to do?

So, thanks to the BAA for listening to the runners and for introducing a systematic and performance based entry process that will enable the Boston Marathon to be competitive and retain its distinctive and legendary qualities. The new process, coupled with the more stringent qualifying standards, should once again make qualifying for entry into the Boston a goal and achievement in and of itself.

I am very proud to say that I am a four time finisher of the Boston Marathon, each year > six minutes faster than the last (3:44, 3:36, 3:30, 3:24). While I am a little disappointed to be miss the opportunity to be at the start line in Hopkinton this year, I look forward to the challenge presented by the new qualification and entry process....and I look forward to the opportunity to do a 3:18 in Boston to keep the tradition alive!

PB doesn’t stand for Peanut Butter

2011-02-14T13:34:00.000-08:00

When I finished Ironman Canada last year, my coach gave me a very cute little home-baked package of “PB biscotti”. Those tasty little peanut butter biscotti didn’t last long. Personal best biscotti!

After some really brutal wind and rain on Saturday, we were lucky to get a perfect day to race the first half marathon of the year (well, February in Vancouver perfect that is!). And despite being early in the season, the fast course did not disappoint…it was a PB biscotti kind of day!

I have not had an ideal start to the 2011 season, with two bouts of the flu and less-than-stellar work ethic - my heart just is not into cold weather riding and running. I signed up for the First Half as an early season benchmark (and because it is a great race!), but did not specifically train nor taper for it. This week was a 10 hour quasi-recovery week of training and included a miserable two hour ride in the rain the day before the race. Given the lack of training and taper, my “reasonable expectation” was to run close to my PB (1:35) and my stretch goal was to go a little under this. I knew, however, that averaging a sub-4:30 per km pace was ambitious.

I felt good on race morning so the plan was to try to hit 4:15 to 4:20 for the first half of the race then hold a 4:30 the remainder of the race. I did not want to torture myself with the math (4:20 multiplied by 21.2…argh!) and also was aware that the heavy lifting would come in the last 4k of the race so I tucked my watch under my glove and ran with abandon (actually I was rocking out to my i-Pod if you must know the truth)! Fabulous calm weather and the comfort of running the seawall, which is a route I run at least twice a week, made for really good fun.

My RPE was around 85%. I felt comfortable and was very capable of making small talk, so I was totally shocked when I took a little peek at my 310XT at the 10k mark and saw 42 minutes. I panicked a little. First thought was that I had accidentally stopped my watch but then realized that I was properly measuring distance so that was not the case. Next thought was “oh shit”. I had just PB’d my open 10k time by over a minute. Totally awesome, except for the obvious problem that I had eleven more kilometers to go…..

For the next three kilometers, I waged a little inner battle over pushing to the limit versus running more conservatively. I swear there was a little red devil on my shoulder yelling “faster”!!! I hung in at roughly 4:20’s for the next three kilometers and evaluated the situation. I felt great, but I had a long way to go. At third beach and roughly fourteen kilometers, I made the conscious decision to (a) slow down to roughly 75% RPE and (b) stop looking at my damn watch because it was stressing me out! I am admittedly conservative towards the last third of any race and am quite scared of blowing up….this tends to be the source of post-race regret from time to time, but it’s just the way I work.

When we transitioned onto the gravel around lost lagoon, followed by a series of short ups and downs through English Bay to the finish, I was glad that I had turned down the intensity and had enough in the tank to started passing people along Beach Avenue. This is usually where I completely fade. At 19 kilometres, I peeked at the watch again and saw an hour 22 elapsed. Two kilometers left, and I was solidly in PB range. All I needed to do was hang together two easy kilometers and I was there. 10 minutes, max.

I realize that the five-minute-kilometer conservative thinking is self-defeating, but for me, envisioning the worst-case scenario provides a little safety net. When I am in the “what if I start running fives” safe zone, I know I can comfortably dial back to my steady state run pace and not disturb the relative outcome of the race. It is an interesting mind trick, however, because I was still managing 4:30’s despite having it in my mind that I was running fives. Somehow I think that telling myself to run slower just calms me down. Even if my legs aren’t listening!

Resorting to this approach miraculously gave me enough energy to sprint to the finish and I outran two other women close to the line. It felt good to finish this way instead of suffering. I know my conservatism cost me in total time, but it was ok by me. I finished with a very unexpected 3 1/2 minute personal best at 1:31:29, and felt great. Asking for any more (or in this case, less!) would have just been too gluttonous in the PB department.

I am really proud of Donovan for running a PB 1:18 and finishing 20^th overall yesterday, and proud of my brother-in-law for finishing his first half marathon. Peanut butter biscotti for everyone!!

(Note**: Coach Calvin's lovely wife Leanne is the one who bakes the yummy PB biscotti. Coach Calvin is strictly in charge of Quality Control and Distribution.)

Eating right....and getting it right!

2011-02-07T15:10:00.000-08:00

A couple weeks ago I met with a nutritionist as part of an employer-mandatory health check. The appointment was extremely comprehensive and it was interesting to get a snap shot of my health.

Prior to meeting with the nutritionist, I was asked to keep a food log for three consecutive "normal" days that would be reflective of the way that I usually eat. By "normal", this means not going out of my ordinary habits too much. Keeping a diary of food intake is actually quite exhausting, but it does bring focus to the quantities and types of food that one consumes in one day.

	Day #1	Day #2	Day #3
Breakfast	Cheerios + banana w/ 1% milk	Cereal + blueberries w/ 1% milk Earl grey tea w/ honey + 1% milk Water	Hot cereal w/ brown sugar; banana, 1% milk Earl grey tea w/ honey + 1% milk Water
Snack	Non-fat chai latte (post run) 3 kiwi + ½ cup non-fat Greek yogurt Soda water	Non-fat chai latte Low fat banana bread Water	Non-fat chai latte Low fat banana bread; mandarin orange; water Pre-run: banana
Lunch	Grilled turkey sandwich with avocado, spinach on black olive bread Honey yogurt + cherry compote Water	Roast beef sandwich on whole wheat w/ veggies + mustard Handful plain chips 3 mandarin oranges Water	Leftover quinoa (without cheese or tomato sauce); 1 cup nonfat yogurt; Banana; Water
Snack	3 oz manchego cheese	Apple, diet coke, apple muffin During ride: Water w/electrolyte Post ride: 500ml chocolate milk	Apple, herbal tea
Dinner	Chicken + black bean soup Tortilla chips (handful), cheddar cheese as topping 2 cans soda water	3 cups Italian quinoa (quinoa mixed with tofu ground round, peppers, zucchini, kale, tomatoes, tomato sauce, cheese) 1 can soda water	3 pieces pizza (2 veggie / 1 ham + pineapple) Diet Coke, water
Snack	Grapefruit cup, handful blueberries	None	Blueberries, ½ cup non-fat Greek yogurt
Activity	13k run (gel + Nuun)	Bike ride – hard 60’	3k swim 14k run

Although the nutritionist was in general quite pleased with the amount and variety of food that I was eating, we did get into an interesting discussion concerning eating for performance and it made me realize that the way I view nutrition is really quite different from most of the population. I love food and it is my fuel. I look forward to meals and generally prefer healthier foods like veggies, fruit and yogurt over processed or fast foods.

However, just because you burn calories doesn't mean you get to consume at will (How many times have you had someone say, "you are training so much, you can afford to eat whatever you want!"). Uh-uh. Garbage in is garbage out. Although I burn a lot of calories while training, it is still easy to eat them back. As such, over eating is just as much a concern as under-eating and keeping a nutritionally balanced diet is really, really challenging - particularly because I am usually VERY strapped for time!

One of the most important lessons I learned last year while training for Ironman was that squirrelling doesn't work. Your body can store only a finite amount of nutrients and glycogen, so for the most part you ALWAYS need to keep your nutrition balanced and on track. You are only as good as what you have eaten recently...of course, bearing in mind that yummy snacks like ice cream, licorice and chocolate have their place in all of this. Everything in moderation, right!? :)

My inherent frustration with nutrition is that, although I am very interested in learning how to eat better, I find most sources of nutritional advice to be very condescending and unrealistic. It is hard enough to work full-time, train, manage 9 tonnes of laundry, keep my dog happy and still stay sane...I do NOT need to feel guilted out by authors on nutrition who seem to think we are all latent Martha Stewart clones. Even the Health Canada guidelines are frustrating at times - it seems completely unrealistic at times to get in all of their minimums every day without completely overeating or losing my mind. Any recipe with a preparation time greater than 30 minutes is strictly out of the question, as is anything too contrived. Whole grains and beans are awesome, but if I need to spend two days soaking and draining them, forget it!

So I stick to what I know - fresh fruit is always on my desk at work and I try to make leftovers of health dinners for lunch to have later in the week. I read labels. I prefer healthy lunches and frequent snacks over large meals, and I try not to snack late at night. (Stop tempting me Lay's potato chips!) Yet, there always seem to be lapses where I am rushing from work to workout when I need to eat NOW. Those are the dangerous times when overprocessed / convenience / junk food is most appealing and I totally blow my diet. Half a pizza anyone?!

So if anyone has any great suggestions as to nutritional planning or great tips that work for them, I would love to hear them!

I quite like my slow-ass, thank you very much.

2011-01-30T16:29:00.000-08:00

According to the first findings from the Canadian Health Measures Survey (CHMS), a comprehensive national survey to determine fitness levels, between 1981 and 2009 fitness levels of Canadian children, youth and adults declined significantly. In adults, the reported decrease in fitness levels over this period were particularly pronounced for those aged 20 to 39 and even more alarming, for 2007-2009 just under 38% of adults were estimated to be at a “healthy” weight. Approximately 1% were considered underweight, 37% were overweight and 24% were considered obese.

Only 32% of Canadian men and women aged 15 to 69 were considered to have "good" health benefit levels based on their aerobic fitness ratings. Sadly, more adults received a fair or needs improvement rating (40% of men and 47% of women) compared to those who received either an excellent or very good rating (27% of men and 22% of women).

We can of course argue semantics about the methodologies used for testing and the basis for categorizing people according to their fitness or health (BMI, etc). Regardless of deviations in statistical measurement, the trend is clear and it is disturbing.

Proposed Canadian guidelines recommend that to obtain substantial health benefits, adults are to accumulate at least 150 minutes of moderate-to-vigorous physical activity a week. According to the data from the CHMS, it is estimated that only 15% of Canadian adults currently attain this level of activity.

150 minutes a week. That’s not even 3 HOURS of exercise, and we are not talking about intense workouts here....just moderate forms of exercise. Walking, gardening, yoga, anything. Just moving at least 30 minutes for 5 days a week. How glorious, that is TWO WHOLE rest days a week! J

You are probably wondering where I am going with this.

In this day, where our country is apparently turning sedentary, it is my view that we should be lauding everyone who is out there putting in the time to stay healthy and fit. I am not talking about training to break any records or for the Olympics, but for any reason – health, stress reduction, a life “bucket” list goal – just getting out there a few times a week.

So I was really saddened / frustrated / angry this week when I came across a message board of apparently “elite” runners who were tearing down a girl who just recently finished the HURT 100 trail race, an insane, humid, difficult 100 mile race on Oahu. http://www.letsrun.com/forum/flat_read.php?thread=3886519

The stated goal of the www.letsrun.com website is to cover the “elite level part of the sport properly”. They self-proclaim that they have grown into the #1 internet site for the so-called *serious* runner and that their message board is “THE place that runners from all over the world go for the latest news, results and gossip in the running world”.

Seriously? So does this also necessitate elitist, conceited rants about amateur athletes?

The general gist of the message board in question, save for the kind souls who chimed in with more reasonable views, was essentially that the average person has no business running (or jogging for that matter). We are referred to as the “also-rans”. One poster said “I have thought for a long time now that the hobby joggers and ultra joggers have taken over Letsrun. Because of this, more elite/sub-elite runners will get less of a contract so jogger nobody can brag about their 5 hour 50K. It's the stupid "give everyone a medal" mentality that has over-taken our slow-ass country.”

What!?

First of all, I must preface the discussion by providing some background on the poor girl who these elitist snots decided to dig into. She is not exactly *slow-ass* (their word, not mine) and I have an incredible amount of respect for her. Not only did she complete the HURT 100 in a very respectable time, in reportedly terribly humid conditions where most of the field DNF’d (32 finishers out of 111 starts), but she clocked just over 11 hours in Kona this year and followed that up with a 10:46 at Ironman Florida only four weeks later. Slow ass, my ass. This girl is a talented age-group triathlete who is upbeat, bubbly and willing to share her story. She is a role model and an inspiration, and quite frankly, something our sedentary society needs a little more of.

The fact that these narcissistic, conceited, self-absorbed, so-called “elites” decided that it was necessary to call her down is pretty pathetic. Elite? I think not. Just elitist.

We are all obviously entitled to our opinions, and the internet is a playground for every view on life whether you choose to agree with it or not. However, what is firstly bothersome to me is that these so-called elites are not limiting their clawing and narcissistic criticism to their competitors, but that they have chosen instead to lash out at someone who is not even their rival.

It also disturbs me that this attitude is displayed by people who are presumably winning races and perhaps are *best in class* at their short distances. It seems to me that they should endeavour to be ambassadors to the sport rather than disparaging it.

And, to bring me back full circle to alarming state of our sedentary nation, why are those who should be ambassadors in sport choosing to detract from anyone who is getting out there? Obviously there are people who should not run or participate in vigorous sports, such as those with health difficulties, but in my view anyone who dares call themselves an elite should carry an attitude that is similarly winning and tolerant of everyone.

Most of us do not have the natural talent or ability to win at the local level, never mind on a national or world scale. Moreover, most of us are not deluded enough to think that we could ever compete on that level. Instead, we define our victories by our own personal terms. That’s why we shoot for PRs, not WRs. Knocking off a 16-minute 10k is out of reach for the majority of us and yet, in my view, this does not make the physical training and cognitive effort required at any level of sport any lesser than the elites. While I realize that my amateur goals must be simply mundane to an elite runner or triathlete, we should not need a reason or defense as to why we are out there.

It is bad enough that the statistics show that physical activity is on the decline, but completely pathetic that people who are supposedly elite (though self-proclaimed) in their particular sport are choosing to discourage participation. I realize that this is probably not the view of the majority (case in point: I celebrate people like Chrissie Wellington and Scott Jurek, who make a point of congratulating every participant regardless of finish time). However, the mere fact that this narcissistic view is paraded out there by persons daring to label themselves elite in sport really chafes me. And unfortunately, no amount of Body-Glide is going to relieve it!

So, Miss Frayed Laces, good on you for showing the class and tenacity to laugh these elitist asses away. And good on you for being an inspiration to our sport. We can use a little more of your brand of inspiration...cuz for the sake of our society we all need to get off our slow-asses, be proud of them and get them out there! :)

More info on the CHMS:

http://www.statcan.gc.ca/daily-quotidien/100113/dq100113a-eng.htm

http://www.statcan.gc.ca/pub/82-003-x/2010001/article/11064-eng.htm

2010 race log

2011-01-02T22:25:00.000-08:00

PF Chang's Rock n'Roll Arizona Half-marathon - January 17, 2010: PB 1:35:08

Mercer Island Half-Marathon - March 22, 2010: PB 1:35:01
Boston Marathon - April 19, 2010: PB 3:24:17
Vancouver Sun Run - May 9, 2010: PB 43:04
UBC Olympic triathlon - May 16, 2010: 2:28:35
Persona Oliver Half-Iron - June 6, 2010: 5:12:42
The Ride to Conquer Cancer - June 19/20, 2010
Subaru Vancouver Half-Iron - July 4 2010: 5:02:48
Ironman Canada - August 30, 2010: 11:09:21
Whistler Gran Fondo - September 11, 2010
Ironman Kona - October 9, 2010: 11:31
ING NYC Marathon - November 7, 2010: 3:36:36
North Face Endurance Challenge marathon relay - December 4, 2010

Move that Fat Ass!!

2011-01-01T20:42:00.000-08:00

Ah, New Years Day. We usher in the new, make resolutions and typically suffer from an evening of revelry and celebration the night before. Tylenol, tums and sleep are usually prescribed. And 2011 was no exception to this rule, but for a different reason!

I rang in 2011 not with champagne, but with a 50k resolution run. If you consider anything more than a marathon to be an "ultramarathon", then it was my first "ultra". Let's call it "ultra light"!

I was untrained, unprepared and would be happy to finish my first 50k. Signing up was a bit of a lark actually, and it was really more about doing a long, slow, easy run with good company. And the Fat Ass 50k 2011 did not disappoint.

We were served up a crisp, glorious winter day - it was calm, sunny and spectacular! A tad bit chilly, but hey, you can't have it all, can you!? (No whining. See below.) Today was the kind of day that reminds me why I live in Vancouver and endure the sometimes seemingly endless winter rain. The North Shore mountains were crowned with gleaming snow and English Bay was like glass....perfect, perfect conditions!

At an average pace of 5:30/km, slow and steady was the name of the game. The company was great and everyone kept their pace in check....well, mostly :) Four hours and forty-seven minutes after we departed Brockton Oval, lots of potty stops and walking, 50k and eight gels later, we returned to the kiss the fire hydrant. Don't ask...apparently it is one of the rules!

Speaking of rules, the rules of Club Fat Ass are fairly simple aside from the not-so-obvious hydrant kissing. You pack yourself up, aim to be self-sufficient for the distance, respect mother nature and find enjoyment in running. If you don't enjoy it, you suck it up. It's not about winning, it's about the journey. And it was a great journey! The Fat Ass 50 course is an out and back from Stanley Park to Pacific Spirit Park, kind of a greatest hits collection of the spectacular seaside runs that Vancouver has to offer. Most of the course is on trails or soft gravel. The run is totally informal and very grassroots - the attitude amongst the other 100 or so runners was incredibly positive, inclusive and sometimes just silly.

Thanks to my running partner, Shane, and to the impromptu support crew that kept us energized and amused enough to actually run 50k and still be smiling at the end. We did it! New Year's Day, 50K! Now where are those tylenol and tums....

Happy New Year!

2010: A Triathlon Odyssey

2010-12-18T19:40:00.000-08:00

To say it has been an interesting year would be an understatement! It has been quite a wild ride and blogging a recap is bound to be somewhat anti-climactic. So here goes....(insert theme music here)....2010: A Triathlon Odyssey.

2010 was about dreaming the impossible.

I dared to believe I could finished an Ironman. And then, for good measure, I had the absolute privilege and opportunity of being able to race in Kona. It isn't about winning, it is about dreaming the impossible, working hard and making it happen. And sometimes, those dreams are possible.

2010 was about doing things I swore I was never going to do again.

After 2009, I vowed never to run four marathons in one year yet here I am reflecting on 2010, realizing that I did it again. Damn those marathons for sneaking up on me. Cross my heart, 2011 will be the year of No Mary.

After crossing the line at IMC, I also vowed never, ever to do another Ironman. And, yet, 6 weeks later I was quite acutely aware of this vow as I lined up to do it again. I guess "never" has its limitations (especially with Kona on the line), but it still never ceases to amaze me how quickly humans can compartmentalize our experiences, forget the pain and suffering and lay it all on the line again.

2010 was about finding inspiration when the going got tough.

And when I speak of inspiration, I am not talking about superheroes or Chrissie Wellington. I owe a debt of gratitude to my family and my friends - were it not for them providing equal parts support, butt kicking and patience, it just would not have been the same. To Jeanne for being real, Mom and Dad for keeping me grounded, Donovan for showing me tenacity, Jared for forcing me to do hill repeats, Coach Calvin for teaching me regimen, Jeremy for showing that fearlessness is good, Shane/Dave/Steve/Andrew/Gregg for provoking me to ride harder than I thought I could (damn you!), Greg & Tav for encouraging me to believe in myself and Hoz (as only an ultramarathoner can) for opening my eyes to the fact that we can go a long, long way if we hang in there. There are so many more people I am forgetting to mention here that influenced me so positively in training and in life...thank you so much.

2010 was about logging a lot of miles.

My GPS logs say that I ran 2,277 kilometres, rode 6,011 kilometres and swam 257 kilometres. In aggregate - 8,545 kilometres traveled on my own steam, well worth any number of Honey's donuts as reward I would think!

I raced two half-marathons, two open marathons, two half-ironmans, two ironmans, two mass rides, a trail half marathon relay, an olympic distance tri, my first 5k and a couple 10ks for good measure. That is a whole lotta GU consumed!

As 2010 fades away into the training logs and plans get drawn up for a new season, it is hard to imagine a year quite as amazing as this one has been.

2011, you have a lot to live up to.

Impromptu racing! Funky Munky hits the Marin Headlands.

2010-12-05T20:25:00.000-08:00

Not *quite* ready to throw in the towel for the 2010 season, Donovan and I entered the North Face Endurance Challenge marathon relay this weekend in Marin County, CA. I was traveling to San Francisco for work the following week and we knew a few others running the distance events at the North Face (50 miler + 50k). Turns out there were spots open for the marathon relay, hence Team Funky Munky was born.

There were of course a glitches. First, I haven't run trail for nearly three years. Next, the relay was actually a four person relay and since Funky Munky only had two members we had to run 2 laps apiece. Easy peasy, right? Oh yeah, and the last one, which was that I had not run further than 10k at glacial pace on flat, flat since the NYC marathon three weeks ago. Pffft.

The race is situated in the Marin Headlands, just north of San Francisco. The course is fairly non-technical terrain sandwiched between the stunning vistas of the Pacific Ocean and Sausalito - we were told to expect five stars of scenery combined with five stars of elevation change!

The marathon relay was four 6.2 mile loops with a profile of one mile mildly rolling net downhill, loong three mile ascent (featuring 900 feet of wind-sucking elevation gain), sharp one mile descent, mildly rolling net uphill for the final mile. Our race plan was quite simple: run munky run! I would lead off, followed by Donovan for a second lap. He would decide at the end of the second lap whether to do two consecutive and I would either enter again at lap three, or pull in the anchor at lap 4.

There were about 40 relay teams and our initial observation of our competition was that they seemed quite fast. Many of the girls looked *tough* and trail-worthy, and lots of them were very seriously warming up before the race. Donovan joked that as soon as the race started my competitive nature would kick in...but in looking at the girls warming up, I figured I was about to have my rear end handed to me. Never mind that I was afraid of sucking wind on the ascent!

The start was VERY fast and I settled to the mid-back of the pack for the first section, which was mainly on the road. Most of the mixed teams had females starting, so there seemed to be about 20 girls in the starting pack, a good number of them blowing past me right away. I looked down and saw a 4:15/km on my GPS - my only thought was whoa, settle down, we gotta tow this thing uphill...this is NOT the time to go blasting out. And this gut reaction turned out to be exactly right. As soon as we hit the trail, the free ride on the downhill stopped. I quickly passed about 6 people whose momentum had totally faded.

It was not all easy cruising though. The hill REALLY sucked. A couple of very strong girls plowed past me at the bottom third and I couldn't even contemplate chasing. I ended up walk/running the top third of the hill (posting some very sexy 7:00/km splits). However, I also realized that no one was passing at the top...which meant everyone else was sucking as much as I was!

The top of the hill at the 4 mile mark featured some absolutely stunning vistas over Sausalito - one could not help but slow down to gawk a little. And then, since what comes up must come down, it was rock and roll time. The elevation gained over 3 miles uphill was lost over one mile downhill. This means one thing: WHEEEEEEE!!!!!! I figured I was about 3 or 4 back of the lead female and ran like a flying banshee, on the verge of being totally out of control. It was exhilarating. Bliss. Wind in my face. By the bottom of the hill, I was lead female. Totally wicked fun. :D

I beat Donovan's expectations of time by about 5 minutes and he was barely in place at the hand-off when I finished my loop. Munky One done. Munky Two, GO!

The course was fast and I knew Donovan would rip it up...no way would he hold off so he could do two consecutive laps, it was just too much damned fun to let 'er rip on the downhill! 46 minutes later, Munky Two signaled that I would be jumping in as Munky Three - he would take a break and anchor.

Let's just say that it was a somewhat less-spunky Munky that took to the trails. We were in third place after Donovan's spectacular lap and I knew I was going to have trouble holding our place. My less-than-adequate training gave me what I deserved, as did some stomach cramps on the second ascent. There was more walking than running the second time up...but I did manage to save some WHEEEEE!!! for the downhill. Three minutes slower on the second lap. Still respectable. Go Munky Four!

Donovan also lost a little spunk on his anchor lap...but we managed a 3:30 and a pretty decent 4th place finish. With 4000 feet of ascent over 44km and our handicap of 2 laps apiece, Funky Munky managed to be pretty OK for a couple of silly ol' road runners!

I give the North Face folks an A+ for a well-executed and organized event - it was a whole lotta fun from start to finish. The shuttle service from the city was quick and flawless (well, aside from the motion sickness induced by a school bus ride in the Marin headlands!), food and entertainment were plentiful, trails well marked and provisioned with volunteers, never mind the were fantastic sponsors (GU, Nuun, Gore-tex and of course, North Face). In true trail running style, the start was a little late and the course was actually a little long, but it was just too much fun to matter!

A lesson in persistence

2010-11-19T21:33:00.000-08:00

Last January, I entered the ING New York City marathon with a guaranteed entry. I had always promised myself that I would run the NYC 26.2 on the caveat that I had to qualify...no lottery! I had previously met the qualifying time but for one reason or another let it lapse, so when I met the standard in Arizona last January, I bucked up and entered NYC.

Of course, I had no idea that my training for the marathon would involve 2 x Ironman in the preceding 10 weeks and a mere 2 weeks of *training* for the marathon. In the days leading in to the race I had a pretty good idea that my performance would be somewhat less than optimal. I had no leg speed, no long pace runs and definitely was a little more than exhausted...of course that did not stop me from trying!

There were nearly 45,000 entrants to the race, organized in a very complicated system of bib colors, corrals and wave starts. We left downtown Manhattan at 5:15am to catch our coach (note BAA, I said COACH, not yellow school bus!) out to Staten Island. The first wave start was at 9:40am, so we had over four hours of time to kill in the makeshift village..and it was COLD!! The potties were plentiful, lots of hot coffee and because we arrived so early, we had no issue finding a somewhat warmer spot under a tent to sit and relax. As the crowds kept piling of the buses and piling into the start areas, it really made me appreciate how huge an event the race was. The biggest races I had participated in previously were Boston and the Nike Women's, each in the low 20,000's. NYC is just absolute semi-controlled chaos.

We were permitted into the "start" corrals at 8:10, and I was relieved (no pun intended) to discover that there were potties in the corrals. Unlike Boston, in New York you spend a long, long time in the corral. At about 9:00 we started to move forward to the the start on the Verrazano Narrows bridge. I had drawn short straw and was in the starting corral UNDER the bridge. So you know that dramatic start that you see in all the publications with the masses coming across the bridge? Missed that. I got to be a troll under the bridge instead...and the start was decidedly less than epic.

We didn't even really know that the gun had gone off except for the surge and I was surprised to find that the corrals had actually been smashed together such that I was really only about 100m back of the start line. It was the most anti-climactic start I have ever experienced. Being mashed in the corral had also unknowingly protected me from the elements. As soon as the crowd dispersed, we were hit by a huge wash of cold air and brutal cross wind under the bridge. It was awful under that bridge - no view, no GPS signal, very windy and very cold. Coming off the lower bridge deck, my lungs were burning and I felt as though I had just finished a sprint on a dry, cold winter day. Not a good feeling.

Since my GPS had conked out under the bridge deck, I also had no idea what my pace was or how far we had gone. Watch said 6km and 20 minutes elapsed...obviously I was not running 3:30 kilometres so something was amiss. My HR was also brutally high - 184 across the bridge, so I deliberately slowed down. At the 5km mark my watch said 23 minutes so I was on track for what I would normally pace an open marathon at. The question was...how long could I hold that pace given my sub-optimal training?

The race through Brooklyn was incredibly congested and chaotic, and a total spectacle. The cheering crowds, however, were plentiful and enthusiastic...in fact, other than over the Verrazano, I don't think there were any gaps in the spectators at all. The sun was out and it was a glorious day to cheer on a race. As I ran through the boroughs, I recalled the Fred Lebow movie "Run For Your Life" and really appreciated the storied history of the race.

The answer to the question of how long the legs would hold out came swiftly as we entered Manhattan on the Queensborough Bridge. Just past the halfway mark, we crossed a small bridge that was rather heartbreaking despite its short distance. My legs started informing me that they were not happy with the expectations being placed on them, and I knew it was just a matter of time. Brain said yes, legs said hell no. By the time I reached the Queensborough at 16 miles (25k) with its steady climb, I was done. Hips started cramping, knees ached, quads hated me, general fatigue threatened.

My legs loosened up a bit on the off-ramp into Manhattan and I was somewhat hopeful that I would bounce back, but just as the exit jackknifed to the left to spill us out onto 1st Avenue the runner directly in front of me stopped dead in his tracks with a leg cramp. Like an idiot, I smacked right into the back of him with nowhere to go. My left hamstring pulled and froze, and then both legs completely cramped up with the sudden stop. Another runner behind stopped for me to ensure that I could keep going (I was quite appreciative of him), but this was the final straw for my legs. Their contempt for me was complete.

As we ran up 1st Avenue, the blocks were ticking away and it was mentally difficult to see the street numbers - I was on 60th and knew I needed to go to 127th before I crossed into the Bronx. Then I would need to descend back down to 57th to enter the Central Park finish line and THEN go back up again. It felt like a long, long way. At this point, I had slowed considerably and neither my head nor my legs were really in the race anymore. My 1:40 first half now was impossible to match and I would be lucky to finish under 3:40.

It's funny that after doing two Ironmans that running an open marathon would be such a mental challenge, but it was. I was drained and fatigued and just ready for the race to be over. I'm not sure I have ever really checked out of a race like that, but I know for sure that it makes it so much harder to persevere once you stop caring. And when I reached Harlem, I am almost ashamed to admit that I did the unthinkable. I stopped. I sat down on the curb. And I just sat there.

It was the closest I have ever come to DNF'ing. Realizing eventually that it was ridiculous to DNF a race with less than 8k to go, I got up after a couple minutes and just started running again. During the time that I had sat on the curb, the group of runners had swelled and I knew that my little *time-out* had cost me. And at that point, it really bothered me. I resolved not to walk or stop again, apart from briefly at the next aid stations to get some fluid down.

Halfway down 5th Avenue, we turned into Central Park for the final section of the race. This was my favorite part and not just because I was almost done! It was like a breath of fresh air - the road through Central Park was undulating and full of shockingly beautiful trees with their multi-colored fall leaves. The rest of the race had been so urban, industrial and gritty..so very New York. The contrast of the park was a total relief, to be back in some semblance of nature. Aaaaaah.

I realized at the 25 mile mark that what seemed like one in every three runners was walking. It was nuts. I was so disappointed in myself and so determined to salvage a 3:40 that there was no damned way I was walking. Forget the legs. No. More. Walking.

The last mile into Central Park was amazing. People cheering, smiling, happy.

And then it was over. *Bliss*

Happy was short-lived until I realized I now had to hobble another damned mile to stand in line for dry clothes. I am not exaggerating. A frickin' mile. Normally my race report would stop at the finish line, but the crowded, ridiculous march to the baggage trucks deserves a mention. The bag trucks were lined up in REVERSE numerical order, thus the runners having started at the front with low bib numbers had to walk FOREVER to get their bags. Then, once you finally arrived at the baggage trucks, they were so ridiculously disorganized that there were line-ups for 45 minutes to an hour. Bad, bad, bad way to end what was otherwise a decently organized event.

The synopsis? It is a race worth running once in a lifetime, and I had a pretty good half all things considered. However, a marathon is not won until 26.2 miles have been traveled. Finish time was a yucky 3:36:36...not pretty, but I got what I deserved by letting the devil in my head trick me into thinking that I should quit.

And now? The off-season. Yay!!!!!

A very hot, long day in Hawaii

2010-10-12T19:18:00.000-07:00

A year ago, I watched Ironman Kona unfold online from my hotel room in Victoria BC, the day before running the 2009 Victoria Marathon. At that time, I had exactly two triathlons under my belt (a sprint and an oly) and had the very daunting task ahead of me of training for Ironman Canada 2010.

Only in the wackiest of fantasies could I have imagined that in one year I would be toeing the line with 1800 of the world's best triathletes at the 2010 Ford Ironman World Championship.

Yet, it was somehow possible, and at 3:30am on Saturday October 9, 2010 I greeted the humid Kona dawn to begin what would be a very challenging and humbling day.

I was a bit less nervous than at IMC because I (kind of) understood what was about to unfold. With some mild reluctance, I accepted my fate for the day - it would be hot, it would be hard and it would hurt. Kona is known to be very challenging at the best of times, never mind when you are only six weeks out from your first Ironman. As such, my goal was simple - to finish by 8pm. I deliberately set expectations low because I wanted to enjoy the day as much as possible rather than fixating on a time goal. The key was to relish the fact that I was really in Kona at the Big Show.

The open water swim in Kailua Bay brought with it all kinds of evil for a nervous swimmer like me. Not only are wetsuits banned, but the swim start was like nothing I have experienced - we had to tread water for 10 minutes before the gun went off! It was total, uncontrolled chaos. I tried as best I could to stay calm, but there was really no good spot to be in and it was hard to keep moving forward. The swells were nauseating and the current was maddening. I also swallowed more than my fair share of salt water! My time of 1:22 was pretty pathetic, but I am ecstatic just to have survived....after all, the prospect of a 3.8k ocean swim sans wetsuit is very terrifying to me.

Seeing the 1:22 on the clock as I exited, I had two opposing thoughts: thank goodness it was not 1:30, and damn, that is really, really slow. There were flashbacks to my first triathlon when I got back to transition and there were no bags left on the rack. Throwing in the proverbial towel was definitely in my mind at T1.

T1 was a soppy wet gong show - I left with sunscreen dripping off me and into my eyes, and felt really flustered knowing how far back I was.

I relaxed a little heading out onto the bike and it was quite enjoyable to ride the first section through town. The "hot corner" of Kuakini and Palani was piled full of spectators and was fun. The uphill section on Kuakini was a bit of a shock to my heart rate, however, so I just kept my cadence high and focused on enjoying the surroundings.

The pace noticeably increased as the riders hit the Queen K. Seeing the string of riders ahead of me on the Queen K drove home the amazing reality that I was actually competing here...oops, I said that word...."competing", not "participating". It was forseeable that my mindset would change as soon as I got on my bike and I didn't fight it too much. The first 2 hours of the ride was (controllably) fast and fun! I had some mild cramping (which I attribute to the salt water consumption on the swim), but stuck to my nutrition plan of a salt pill + gel every 45 minutes and as much GU Brew and water as I could handle.

The fast and fun bit had to end, though! The Kona bike course is famous for two things - the heat, and the wind - and Madame Pele did not disappoint on this day. By the time I reached Kawaihae, it was sweltering hot. I kept an eye on the ocean since a few riders had advised me that rough water was a sure sign of the Hawi winds. Sure enough - about halfway up the ascent to Hawi, I saw the whitecaps warning me that I had few precious moments before it was time to just hang on. I downed two gels, a salt tab and dumped the last of my GU Brew into my Speedfil, just in time for the cyclone to hit. For the next 45 minutes up to Hawi and back down the hill, the wind gusts threw me around like a piece of lettuce. It was crazy.

What should have been an enjoyable descent out of Hawi was a relentless struggle to stay focused and stay on my bike. I could see the riders in front of me getting hit with the swirling wind and paid absolute attention to what was going on in front of me, knowing that in a few seconds I would get hit by the exact same gusts of cross wind. My guess is that the gusts were 50kph+. There were a few embankments that offered some temporary relief from the cross wind - I used these to relax a bit, take sips of water and get a gel down.

After returning through Kawaihae, the dead heat of the lava struck. There was not a cloud in the sky and the heat was vicious (I was later told that the temperature had been 44 degrees Celsius in the lava fields). Around 120km, I became cognizant of pain - the nerves in my metatarsal pads were screaming ( it is a condition called "hot feet" - it feels like someone is taking a blow torch to the pads of your feet) and my forearms were pasty red with sunburn. There was nothing I could do about either. None of the aid stations had sunscreen when I asked. Spending the last 60km in the barren lava fields in the sweltering heat of the day definitely teaches you a thing or two about yourself.

When I reached the airport, my focus was on getting the last of my nutrition down, picking up my cadence and relaxing a bit - I needed those legs to run on. It was totally humbling to see the pro men leaders coming out of the energy lab as I was rolling back into town on my bike. Are you kidding me? They were almost done....and I had a full marathon to run.

T2 was painful. The sunburn on my forearms and back was searing as the volunteers gobbed on sunscreen, and the pads of my feet were not happy to be covered with compression socks. Aside from the pain I was already experiencing was the reality that it was 2:30pm and I was about to go run a marathon in the blazing sun. This would be the hardest 26.2 miles ever.

The marathon was less a run and more of a hobble from aid station to aid station. This was my survival tactic and I formed a little bit of a routine through each aid station. Grab water. Dump it on my head. Grab another water, drink it. Grab a coke, drink it. Grab as many sponges and ice as I could hold. Sometimes I even dumped cola on my face and drank the sponges. It didn't matter. The whole thing was crazy and ridiculous and hard.

I saw Donovan on the run course. I cried. I hurt and I didn't care anymore.

The first 16k out-and-back on Ali'i Drive was humid and tough, but in retrospect I realize that at least there were people to cheer and some nice views of the ocean. Comparatively, the final 26k out and back along the Queen K to the energy lab was a nightmarish hell. Lava, lava everywhere and nothing to look at but the long hot road stretching out ahead of you. Talk about a lesson in perseverance.

Miraculously though, somewhere along the murderous Queen K I started feeling kind of ok. Maybe it was the 28 glasses of cola or the 18 salt pills or the Tylenol gel caps or just the monotony of putting one foot in front of the other. I reached the halfway mark in 2:01 and was floored. It was painful and it was slow, but I could get this thing over with in two more hours. 8pm be damned....the motivation to finish by 6:30pm sans glow stick was huge.

Along the back half of the marathon, I started chatting to the other runners and cheering on the runners going in the opposite direction. It felt good and removed me from the pain I was feeling. We were all in this together, and there was no point in suffering alone. Some of the conversations were hilarious - one lady kept talking about all the food she wanted to eat....pizza, fries, milkshake. I had to run away from her because she was making me nauseous!!

And miraculously, the last hill up to Palani appeared. And then the glorious downhill until I reached the crowds of Ali'i Drive. Tears of joy appeared as I ran down Ali'i and at 6:31pm I crossed the finish line at the Ford Ironman World Championship. It is not a moment I will forget soon.

Kona is a truly humbling experience - to finish in 11:31 and be in the middle of the pack is very eye opening. Over two-thirds of the finishers come in under twelve hours. I finished 48th in my age group out of 90, but considering that I was keeping company with the world's best in my rookie year at this sport AND only six weeks after my Ironman debut and qualifying race at Ironman Canada, I am pretty happy with the result. There were some truly amazing athletes out there - the young, the old, the fit and the disabled. All amazing.

The day was very, very tough. Not only were the conditions totally extreme - heat, wind, humidity all wreaked havoc - but the course was challenging to boot. It was easily the most difficult race I have ever done and possibly the most difficult thing I have ever done period. There were many moments of reaching inside and digging in when I felt had absolutely nothing left, and I am so glad I didn't quit.

Aloha!!

Kona gear check

2010-10-08T13:16:00.001-07:00

Have been busy this morning making last minute preparations and packing my gear bags. Shortly I will head off to check my bike in.

It always boggles my mind how gear intensive triathlons are! Here is a run down of my Kona gear - some old, some new, all tested and true:

Swim:

Aqua Sphere Kaiman goggles with smoke lenses

Orca RS1 Killa swimskin

Bike:

Orbea Ora TLT, Shimano ultegra

Shimano Dura Ace 7850 wheels with Michelin Pro3 race tires

Fi'zik Vitesse tri saddle

Specialized S-works road helmet

Garmin Forerunner 310XT with heart rate monitor

Sugoi fizz tank, LG tri shorts

Shimano TR-51 tri shoes

Speedfil hydration system

Sugoi C9 gel gloves

Run:

Mizuno Wave Elixir 5 with Yankz speed laces

Camelbak Charm 1.5L hydration pack

Sugoi Timex R&R compression socks

Speed Theory branded Headsweats cap

Nutrition:

GU Brew in Blueberry Pomegranate

GU Roctane in Vanilla Orange + Island Nectar (yum!)

GU Chomps in Cranberry and Watermelon

Thermolyte electrolyte tablets

That's a whole lotta gear!!

Kona race week

2010-10-05T16:46:00.000-07:00

Race week in Kona has officially arrived. The buzz around Dig Me beach in Kailua is pretty infectious and Ali'i Drive is a lycra, visor and compression wearing scene. There are fit people everywhere, and you don't have to look to hard to find the pros amongst them.

It has been a fun week so far, though the reality that I'm going to have to race in 5 days really kicked in when I picked up my bib today. Since arriving on Saturday, the days have been slipping by rather quickly!

It has been busy - I've run Ali'i Drive a few times (including a charity 10k race on Sunday), rode a few sections of the course and enjoyed a couple swims. Every Ironman swim should be as scenic as the one here! The water is clear, there are lots of colorful fish (humuhumunukunukuapua'a!) and you can see the bottom the entire way. Who knew that I would LIKE the swim part!

It's not all a proverbial walk on the beach though. It's hot, humid and windy. The crosswinds at Hawi did not disappoint on a training ride yesterday - things could get interesting on race day if the winds are that strong. The wheel change was definitely a good thing as we were at the mercy of a solid 30kph wind with gusts that were probably 50-60kph. The person that recommended taking in lots of nutrition before hitting that section of the bike course was a wise, wise person.

Aside from the last few training sessions, we've also been participating in the requisite Kona race week activities - coffee and brunch at Lava Java this morning, hitting the booths along Ali'i Drive for samples, and on Thursday the Kona undie run! It was like being in a candy store running along Ali'i this morning - bag check in at the King Kam, stops for Nuun, Cytomax and Perform along the way and lots of freebie recovery drink at the end. Every training run should be like this!

Most of all, it is an honor to be here to take it all in and very humbling to be beside so many accomplished athletes. Getting to Kona is one thing - being fast here means something entirely different indeed and I am totally out of my league. My focus will be on trying to have fun and trying to finish - it's pretty unreal that I am going to have the opportunity to race Kona, with all its lore and infamy. Here's hoping Madame Pele wants me on her team on Saturday!

Countdown to Kona: the more things stay the same, the more they change.

2010-09-21T20:47:00.000-07:00

There is something to be said about the comfort of having a routine. The chill in the air, dark mornings and early sunsets remind me constantly that summer has slipped away, yet here I am continuing to train day in and day out. Figuratively, I'm the girl left dancing at the bar long after the lights have switched on and everyone else has gone home. Except there is no dancing. Just more miles to log.

I'm content to live this way because it is the way life has been for a long time. Wake up early, work out, scramble around, eat lots, fall into bed exhausted. Swim, bike, run, repeat. The repetition is comforting and my weekly routine is well worn in. Thankfully those around me have been accepting of my new pastime (or at least feigned tolerance for it).

Yet despite how unchanged things seem to me personally, I am reminded that life does not stand still. It feels like everyone and everything else around me is moving on. My training partners are selling their gear, signing up for fall marathons and taking trips that do not involve packing copious amounts of lycra. New goals are being set for a new season. Work commitments scream for attention, and a promotion at work demands a renewed focus on doing a great job at being something other than an amateur athlete with some crazy goals. The awareness of just how long I have been engrossed in the madness of training for Ironman is quite sobering.

And yet, despite the continued craziness, I feel like a giddy child who is going to Disneyland. I have a bib number for Kona and a plane ticket to get there. Not in my wildest dreams could I have imagined this.

I'm anxious, scared and thrilled at the same time - the intimidation factor is enormous! Eighteen months ago I could not swim 25m. I struggled to finish my first marathon five years ago and worked my butt off to get a little better at running. I bought my first road bike at age 34 and eventually learned how to stay upright on it, but not without more than a few mishaps. Would I call myself a triathlete? Ha. Not really. I'm just a geeky tax accountant. And yet, I am going to have a chance to participate in Kona as just a regular, normal person beside some very amazing athletes - it is very thrilling and formidable and daunting and overwhelming.

So for the next few weeks, I need to forget about all of that big stuff and just keep doing more of the same ol' thing. It is time to train smart, stay level and embrace the experience - I am so, so very fortunate to have a chance to do this.

Epilogue: Swim, bike, run….surf?

2010-09-07T15:52:00.001-07:00

I’ve had a few comments that I omitted a critical part of the story in my IMC race blog. That was intentional.

The journey to IMC deserved to be a chapter in my life on its own right - there were too many long days and too much sweat poured into that journey for it not to. And I also fully expected that the end of the story would be written on or before midnight on Sunday, August 30^th.

But alas, the story continues.

With a little aloha to boot.

Those of you who know me well know of my fondness for Hawaii. Since my first vacation in Kona in 2004, I have gone back six times. I love everything about the land of Aloha - the breeze, the smell of plumeria, the crazy juxtaposition of black lava against lush rainforest, crazy hikes to hidden waterfalls and the laid-back island attitude. Oh, and maybe a Lava Flow or two….the silly tourist drink that is half pina colada, half daiquiri and totally addictive.

My athletic endeavors in Hawaii to date have been limited to a half-marathon (my first age group victory!) and some seriously humid training runs. Oh, and who could forget an ill-advised “pub” crawl in Maui (inspired and fuelled by a few too many mai tais as Linda will attest to…picture evidence below).

Something tells me that my next trip to Hawaii will be somewhat different…..

On October 9, 2010 at 7am, I will be doing it all over again - 140.6 redux, this time at the Ironman World Championship in Kona, Hawaii.

The big show. For a triathlete, and a rookie one at that, there is no greater honor than getting to the start line at Kona. My 10^th in age group at Ironman Canada was enough to catch me a roll-down qualifying spot. At first, I hesitated in taking the slot due to my complete and utter inexperience. This will be only my 7th triathlon ever. As a novice swimmer, the open ocean non-wetsuit legal swim terrifies me, never mind the heat and the raging tradewinds on the ride and run. However, despite the adversity, I realize that this may be the opportunity of a lifetime.

I watched the 2009 IM Kona live on Universal Sports last year, from my hotel room the day before the Victoria marathon. I had just signed up for IMC. I could barely swim, had never ridden a tri bike (and had only been riding for less than 12 mos period) and was still having time wrapping my head around the distance. Just finishing IMC would easily be my biggest athletic accomplishment.

One year later, I have a bib number at Kona.

I will have the chance to swim Kailua Bay and ride the legendary Queen K to Hawi. I will get the opportunity to endure the run through the lava desert. And if I am lucky, I will cross that very famous finish line on Ali’i Drive

Not in my wildest dreams could I have imagined this.

I am nervous. Thrilled. Awestruck. Every day I expect to wake up and have someone tell me that this is all a dream….but it’s really happening, isn’t it?

Aloha, indeed.

Do not get your Mogwai wet

2010-09-07T10:35:00.001-07:00

So usually this blog is about me…but yesterday I got to trade in my racing kit to be a triathlon super –fan at the Vancouver triathlon for Donovan’s debut at the Olympic distance!!

Race day could be described in one word: CRAP. It was cold, wet, rainy and miserable. I felt so badly for everyone racing, teeth chattering before the swim start.

Combined with the completely crap weather, the swim course brought along some crap of its own – the low tide forced the participants to wade and mash through much of the start and the turn, and the swim exit was a mucky and rocky mess. Brutal!

Despite the challenging conditions, Donovan totally rocked his first Oly. His swim was solid (28:35), followed by an equally solid ride (1:10:30, including T1 and T2) and a fantastic run! Finish time was 2:15:53, good for 14^th place overall and a 6^th place finish in an extremely competitive age group. I suspect that due to the conditions there was some conservatism exercised on the ride, but the 37:49 run time was smokin' (5th fastest of the day!).

The day did have its moments, however. For those of you familiar with the movie Gremlins, you will recall that the Mogwai came with very clear instructions: do not expose to bright light, do not get them wet and do not feed after midnight.

I have suspected for a long time that Donovan may actually be part Mogwai as he comes with very similar instructions: do not get wet and do not allow to get cold. It is also quite possible that he should not be fed after midnight.

Evidencing the hypothesis that Donovan may in fact be Mogwai, here is a picture of him starting the triathlon:

However, as a result of two hours and sixteen minutes in the cold and wet, the metamorphosis into Gremlin seemed to be unavoidable. Donovan the Gremlin emerged from the triathlon looking like this:

Lessons learned from the day:

1. Never get your Mogwai cold and wet. It turns into an evil Gremlin with sharp teeth and claws.

2. If you do get your Mogwai wet, steer clear of the Gremlin. Get it home as soon as possible and try to avoid being bitten.

3. Aside from successfully coping with the Gremlin, my skills as a triathlon super-fan are decidedly, um, less than super. Not only did I forget my camera, cowbell and rainjacket, but also failed to have a sign. My blackberry photos of the event qualify as the worst photos ever taken. Epic fail noted - I promise to improve and will train hard for future super-fan events.

Ironman Canada - one wild ride!

2010-09-02T12:25:00.000-07:00

Four days post IMC, I am at a total loss. I started to write my race report a couple days ago and gave up, so now here I sit again trying to put this experience into words. It is damned hard. So I apologize in advance for the length of this post.

At 7am on Sunday August 30, 2010 I took my place with 2,800 other wetsuit-sporting athletes on a very busy little stretch of beach in Penticton, BC. At 6:09 pm I crossed the finish line only a few hundred feet away, an Ironman finisher.

The days preceding the race were not surprisingly quite anxiety riddled, but otherwise very enjoyable. A nice beach vacation. I tried not to think too hard about the task at hand - in fact, the worst pre-race moments came when I did think about the upcoming race. Of course, the night before the race had its requisite sleeplessness.

In retrospect, one of the best decisions I made was to buck up and stay at the Penticton Lakeside resort - the host hotel conveniently located right next to the transition area. I woke up at 3:45am on race morning and hustled over to body marking and transition as it opened at 5am. There were no lines and I got through my pre-race prep very quickly. This afforded me almost an entire hour of relaxation, quiet and my very own transition area potty stop in the hotel room before I went back to the start line at 6:30am to join the swim start chaos.

I know I have stressed this over and over, but I am NOT a swimmer. My race would be first and foremost about getting through the swim without incident. Standing on the right side of the beach facing Lakeside Drive, I did not feel confident. Swim caps and neoprene everywhere.

Breathe deep. You can do this.

I waited a few moments after the start to see what would happen, walked a few steps, and dove in. To my absolute surprise, I found open water immediately. Buoy 1. Still going. Buoy 2. I can do this. My normal "I hate this and want to quit" feeling that usually accompanies open water swimming was pleasantly absent.

It was not until Buoy 8 that there was a problem with congestion. The batting and pummelling started and I took a few looks around to assess the situation. Bad idea. Flailing swim caps everywhere. I felt the swim demon lurking. Great big yellow capped male swimmers were everywhere, kicking, grabbing, hitting. It was at that point that I somehow remembered Peter Scott's advice from my very first open water swim lesson: Be Spaghetti. If they hit you, move. If you hit them, be flopsy. Don't get hurt. Just keep moving along like a piece of floating, pliable, floppy spaghetti.

So in my disguise as a piece of pasta, I made it through what felt like a really, really long time in the water. Exiting the swim, I was just ecstatic. I had no idea what my time was, and really did not care. I was out. Goal #1 accomplished: do not drown.

T1 was clogged - I had to grab my own bag and fight for a spot in the tent. I dumped my own bag and started rifling through it - a volunteer started packing my stuff and helped a little with my socks and gloves. I waffled a over the arm warmers but put them on (they were a last minute addition to my gear bag) - this turned out to be a wise decision.

Riding down the first part of Main Street was surreal. Riders everywhere, people cheering everywhere. I was really here.

I rode fairly conservatively, but with a little tailwind it felt fast. McLean Creek Road was a total disaster - congestion everywhere. It was frustrating to be ground to a halt by all the riders on the hill. I looked down and saw 9kph and was really pissed off. Move it people!

I started eating and drinking at about 45 minutes into the ride. I choked a little on the bonk bar and had to immediately abandon my nutrition plan of bonk bars and GU chomps. They just didn't go down the way they did in training. No more. It would be gels and GU Brew, and that's it. Shortly after this decision, I launched a bottle of GU Brew concentrate off my bike and realized that I would now need to rely on course support to get me to special needs. Being Spaghetti would need to be my strategy on the bike too.

Average speed at this point was around 35kph and I was still caught in a lot of congestion. It was impossible to get past the hordes of riders and if you dropped back, you got caught in more riders. It was extremely frustrating since the riders were predominately male and I was not competing against them. So you can imagine how ticked I was when I got penalized for drafting just as a horde of male riders past me outside Oliver. Argh!!!! (I am not going to waste time complaining about the officiating but it is TOTALLY ridiculous to be giving drafting penalties to EVERYONE on the road. Where are we supposed to go???)

I used the penalty stop (aka the Sin-bin Stopover) to use the potties, refill my bottle and have some fuel. I hopped on my bike and made short work of Richter, and was really happy to see that I was passing the same people that I had been near and around prior to the Sin-bin Stopover. I felt good. The sun was shining. The top of Richter was like a little party....but I knew that this party was only getting started. The rollers and Yellow Lake were calling.

I rode pretty conservatively through the rollers (aka the 7 Bitches) and even forgot to count the ascents...when I hit the Seven Stones winery I knew that the heavy lifting was done. Or not. The headwind started blasting and my speed plummeted. The out-and-back section was tough work.

I stopped briefly at special needs to load up on GU Brew, shotgun the best V8 juice of my life and do a little pee-pee dance outside the potties before giving up and, um, watering some tumbleweeds. I know that this cost me some time and kind of regret stopping - next time I skipping the potties and am going on my bike!

Refreshed, energized and ready to roll, I came out of the out-and-back feeling great.

And then I saw the cloud.

The biggest, blackest, bad-ass storm cloud you have ever seen was perched right in front of me. The wind kicked up. The rain started. The hail started. I grabbed my bullhorns and held on for dear life. Teeth chattered. I can't remember exactly, but there may have been swearing.

I was cold, hands numb and totally delirious by the time I peaked Yellow Lake. The crowds, in their rain gear and umbrellas, did nothing to inspire me. I wanted off my bike. Now.

The ride down from Yellow Lake was easily the most terrifying ride of my life. The pavement was soaked and slippery and I had no braking capacity. The cross wind gusts were errant and threatening to throw me off my bike....I held on for dear life. Each kilometer closer to T2 made me hopeful and when I rounded Main Street onto Lakeside, I was just so so thankful. Anyone who says luck has no place in racing was not there on Sunday. I was so very lucky to be back in T2 in one piece.

T2 was less congested and much easier to get through. However, the fact that I now had to run a marathon was a reality I had to face. I denied at this point. Went to the potty. Stalled like a little kid at bedtime. Crap. 42.2 k to go.

Little steps, little steps, one mile at a time. My run mantra. Coming out of T2, I dared look at my watch - 2:20pm. If I could run a four hour marathon, I would be finished just over 11 hours. I immediately banished the thought - it was too early for predictions. Little steps, little steps, one mile at a time.

The run plan was this: run the first 5k and then start walking each aid station. No matter how much I felt like conquering the world, I would walk the aid stations. And the hills. I drank from my Camelbak regularly, had a gel every 45 minutes and just stuck to this strategy.

And it seemed to work. Breaking the marathon down into little pieces was less daunting than trying to conquer the entire thing. Every time my stride would start extending, I drew it back. Little steps. High cadence. Heart rate 150. Keep it light. Keep it smooth. I started passing people. When the brutal stitch started in my left side, I willed it to be gone.

Skaha Lake was sunny and calm on the way out to OK Falls and it was a perfect afternoon. Then, as quickly as the vicious cloud had appeared on Yellow Lake, the blasting wind made an appearance. The return trip to Penticton was like running in a wind tunnel, complete with water splashing from the whitecaps on Skaha. I had sand in my eyes and the constant wind just sapped my energy. I was so thankful to finally reach the houses at the north end of Skaha, to enjoy the respite that they offered from the howling wind.

At Cherry Lane mall, I allowed myself to believe. The run plan had worked - I still had spring in my step (although a cramp was nagging in my calf) and I felt pretty good down Main Street. The crowds were energetic and inspiring. I could do this! 40k mark. Turn down Winnipeg. I saw Donovan waving at me from the crowd on Lakeside and felt a leap in my heart. I was almost there!

Almost. What must be the looooongest 7 minutes in sport lay ahead of me. The Most Painful Seven Minutes of My Life. You see the finish, and you run away from it. Evil. Yet somehow, you find the energy to pick up your feet and continue running. There is no way you are walking now, dammit.

After making the turn on Lakeside I felt like I was sprinting (although anyone watching me will probably tell me otherwise). I saw my dad, gave a few high-fives and the next 500m passed way too quickly. The noise, the crowds. The finish line. 11:09 on the clock and I was done.

Just like that, the incredible journey was over. I had put my heart into this thing - swam, biked and ran in every condition imaginable, put aside my fears and did it. No more doubts, no more anxiety. I made it.

My favorite picture from the race is not the one of me at the top of Richter. It is not the one of me running along Skaha or high-fiving along The Most Painful Seven Minutes of My Life. It isn't even the shot of me breaking the tape at the finish line.

No, it's the one of me the day before the race with my two biggest fans - my niece Lily and my dog Bogey. We were sidewalk chalking in front of the finish line. Later that evening, after finishing the race I stopped and looked down - and saw Lily's scribbles on the pavement. It was the best part of the day.

Congratulations to everyone out there on Sunday racing, cheering and volunteering - you are all an inspiration to me. Thank you to all the iron-fans and supporters who have been there for me, not just on race day, but over my entire journey. I could write a whole blog of thank yous (and maybe I will) and I hope to thank each one of you individually in the days and weeks to come.

OVERALL PLACE

TOTAL TIME

LAST NAME

FIRST NAME

RACE DIVISION

DIVISION PLACE

SWIM DIV PLACE

SWIM OVR PLACE

SWIM TIME

SWIM 100M PACE

BIKE DIV PLACE

BIKE OVR PLACE

BIKE TIME

BIKE PACE

RUN DIV PLACE

RUN OVR PLACE

RUN TIME

RUN PACE

HAWAII QUALIFIERS

430

11:09:22

FRANK

RICHELE

W35-39

10/165

1079

1:10:58

1:53

4:16

588

5:52:37

19.1

6:15

372

3:55:18

8:59

This is just a long training day with valet parking and catering, right?!

2010-08-19T20:12:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine posted this podcast to his blog and, although not terribly original, I wanted to repost it. Seeing someone else's words describe the way that I am feeling right now somehow felt comforting.

There is lots of doubt. Anxiety. And time to think. Those long hours spent training are now vacant. So the mind churns.

Reading this made me laugh. No one said this would be easy, and yet, in just over a week it will all be over. There is nothing more to do now except pass the time, trust that the training I did was enough and relish in the day when it arrives.

http://www.iwillnotbonk.com/becoming-ironman.php

********
Right now you’ve all entered the taper. Perhaps you’ve been at this a few months, perhaps you’ve been at this a few years. For some of you this is your first IM, for others, a long-overdue welcome back to a race that few can match.

You’ve been following your schedule to the letter. You’ve been piling on the mileage, piling up the laundry, and getting a set of tan lines that will take until November to erase. Long rides were followed by long runs, which both were preceeded by long swims, all of which were followed by recovery naps that were longer than you slept for any given night during college.

You ran in the snow. You rode in the rain. You ran in the heat. You ran in the cold. You went out when others stayed home. You rode the trainer when others pulled the covers over their heads.

You have survived the Darwinian progression that is an Ironman summer, and now the hardest days are behind you. Like a climber in the Tour de France coming over the summit of the penultimate climb on an alpine stage, you’ve already covered so much ground…there’s just one more climb to go. You shift up, you take a drink, you zip up the jersey; the descent lays before you…and it will be a fast one.

Time that used to be filled with never-ending work will now be filling with silent muscles, taking their final, well-earned rest. While this taper is something your body desperately needs, Your mind, cast off to the background for so very long, will start to speak to you.

It won’t be pretty.

It will bring up thoughts of doubt, pain, hunger, thirst, failure, and loss. It will give you reasons why you aren’t ready. It will try and make one last stand to stop you, because your brain doesn’t know what the body already does. Your body knows the truth:

You are ready.

Your brain won’t believe it. It will use the taper to convince you that this is foolish – that there is too much that can go wrong.

You are ready.

Finishing an Ironman is never an accident. It’s the result of dedication, focus, hard work, and belief that all the long runs in January, long rides in April, and long swims every damn weekend will be worth it. It comes from getting on the bike, day in, day out. It comes from long, solo runs.

From that first long run where you wondered, “How will I ever be ready?” to the last long run where you smiled to yourself with one mile to go…knowing that you’d found the answer.
It is worth it. Now that you’re at the taper, you know it will be worth it. The workload becomes less. The body winds up and prepares, and you just need to quiet your worried mind. Not easy, but you can do it.

You are ready.

You will walk onto the lake shore on August 29th, 2010 with nearly 3,000 other wide-open sets of eyes. You will look upon the sea of humanity, and know that you belong. You’ll feel the chill of the water crawl into your wetsuit, and shiver like everyone else, but smile because the day you have waited for for so VERY long is finally here.

The bagpipers will walk across the beach. Steve King will ask you to sing along. You will.

O Canada! Our home and native land! True patriot love in all thy sons command. With glowing hearts we see thee rise, The True North strong and free! From far and wide, O Canada, we stand on guard for thee. God keep our land glorious and free! O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

You will tear up in your goggles. Everyone does.

The helicopters will roar overhead.

Maranatha will roar. The splashing will surround you.

You’ll stop thinking about Ironman, because you’re now racing one.

The swim will be long – it’s long for everyone, but you’ll make it. You’ll watch as the Penticton Lakeside Hotel grows and grows, and soon you’ll hear the end. You’ll come up the beach and head for the wetsuit strippers. Three people will get that sucker off before you know what’s happening, then you’ll head for the bike.

In the shadows on Main Street you’ll spin out of town – the voices, the cowbells, and the curb-to-curb chalk giving you a hero’s sendoff.

You won’t wipe the smile off your face for miles as you whisk along the lakeside, past fully stocked, silent aid stations for the run to come.

You’ll spin up McLean Creak Road. You’ll roll down towards Osoyoos, past the vineyards glowing in the morning sun. You’ll settle down to your race. The crowds will spread out on the road.

You’ll soon be on your bike, eating your food on your schedule, controlling your Ironman.
Richter Pass will come. Everyone talks about it, but it’s really nothing. You’ll know this halfway up, as you’re breathing easy and climbing smoothly. Look to your right. Look how high you’re climbing.

Look at all the bikes below, still making their way there. You’re ahead of them. All of them.
You’ll climb over Richter, and descend to the valley below. You’ll ride the rollers, one at a time. You’ll start to feel that morning sun turn to afternoon sun. It’s warmer now. Maybe it’s hot. Maybe you’re not feeling so good now. You’ll keep riding. You’ll keep drinking.

You’ll keep moving. After all, this is just a long training day with valet parking and catering, right?

You’ll put the rollers behind you. You’ll head into the Cawston out and back. You’ll put on your game face, fighting the urge to feel down as you ride the wrong way for what seems like hours. 10 miles in, you reach special needs, fuel up, and head out.

By now it’ll be hot. You’ll be tired. Doubts will fight for your focus. Everyone struggles here. You’ve been on that bike for a few hours, and stopping would be nice, but you won’t – not here. Not today. You’ll ride on leaving Cawston behind you and head for the final showdown at Yellow Lake.

You’ll grind the false flats to the climb. You’ll know you’re almost there. You’ll fight for every inch of road. You’ll make the turn towards the summit as the valley walls close in for the kill, and put your head down. The crowd will come back to you here – the cars are always waiting to cross the summit, and you’ll soon be surrounded in the glorious noise that is the final climb of Ironman Canada. Let their energy push you. Let them see your eyes.

Smile when they cheer for you – your body will get just that little bit lighter.

Grind. Fight. Suffer. Persevere. Summit.

Just like that, you’ll be descending. 12 miles to go, and no climbing left. You’ll plunge down the road, swooping from corner to corner, chaining together the turns, tucking on the straights, letting your legs recover for the run to come – soon! You’ll roll back into town – you’ll see people running out. You’ll think to yourself, “Wasn’t I just here?” The noise will grow. The chalk dust will hang in the air – you’re back in Penticton, with only 26.2 miles to go.

You’ll relax a little bit, knowing that even if you get a flat tire or something breaks here, you can run the damn bike into T2.

You’ll roll into transition. 100 volunteers will fight for your bike.

You’ll give it up and not look back. You’ll have your bag handed to you, and into the tent you’ll go. You’ll change. You’ll load up your pockets, and open the door to the last long run of your Ironman summer- the one that counts.

You’ll take that first step of a thousand…and you’ll smile. You’ll know that the bike won’t let you down now – the race is down to your own two feet. The same crowd that cheered for you in the shadows of the morning will cheer for you in the brilliant sunshine of a Penticton summer Sunday. High-five people on the way out. Smile. Enjoy it. This is what you’ve worked for all year long.

That first mile will feel great. So will the second. By mile 3, you probably won’t feel so good.

That’s okay. You knew it couldn’t all be that easy.

You’ll settle down just like you did on the bike, and get down to your pace. You’ll see the leaders coming back the other way. Some will look great – some won’t. You might feel great, you might not. No matter how you feel, don’t panic – this is the part of the day where whatever you’re feeling, you can be sure it won’t last.

You’ll keep moving. You’ll keep drinking. You’ll keep eating.

Maybe you’ll be right on plan – maybe you won’t. If you’re ahead of schedule, don’t worry – believe. If you’re behind, don’t panic – roll with it. Everyone comes up with a brilliant race plan for Ironman, and then everyone has to deal with the reality that planning for something like Ironman is like trying to land a man on the moon. By remote control. Blindfolded.

How you react to the changes in your plan will dictate your day. Don’t waste energy worrying about things – just do what you have to when you have to, and keep moving. Keep eating. Keep drinking. Just don’t sit down – don’t EVER sit down.

You’ll make it to halfway at OK Falls. You’ll load up on special needs. Some of what you packed will look good, some won’t. Eat what looks good, toss the rest.

Keep moving. Start looking for people you know. Cheer for people you don’t. You’re headed in – they’re not. They want to be where you are, just like you wanted to be when you saw all those fast people headed into town.

Share some energy – you’ll get it right back.

Run if you can. Walk if you have to. Just keep moving.

The miles will drag on. The brilliant Penticton sunshine will yawn, and head for the mountains behind the bike course…behind that last downhill you flew down all those hours ago. You’ll be coming up to those aid stations you passed when you started the bike…fully alive with people, music, and chicken soup. TAKE THE SOUP. Keep moving.

You’ll soon only have a few miles to go. You’ll start to believe that you’re going to make it. You’ll start to imagine how good it’s going to feel when you get there. Let those feelings drive you on. When your legs just don’t want to move anymore, think about what it’s going to be like when someone catches you…puts a medal over your head……all you have to do is get there.

You’ll start to hear town. People you can’t see in the twilight will cheer for you. They’ll call out your name. Smile and thank them. They were there when you left on the bike, and when you came back, when you left on the run, and now when you’ve come back.

You’ll enter town. You’ll start to realize that the day is almost over. You’ll be exhausted, wiped out, barely able to run a 10-minute mile (if you’re lucky), but you’ll ask yourself, “Where did the whole day go?” You’ll be standing on the edge of two feelings – the desire to finally stop, and the desire to take these last moments and make them last as long as possible.

You’ll hit mile 25. You’ll turn onto Lakeside Drive. Your Ironman Canada will have 1.2 miles – just 2KM left in it.

You’ll run. You’ll find your legs. You’ll fly. You won’t know how, but you will run.

You’ll make the turn in front of the Sicamous in the dark, and head for home. The lights will grow brighter, brighter, and brighter. Soon you’ll be able to hear the music again. This time, it’ll be for keeps.

You’ll listen for Steve King, or Mike Reilly, or Whit Raymond. Soon they’ll see you. Soon, everyone will see you. You’ll run towards the lights, between the fences, and into the nightsun made just for you.

They’ll say your name.

You’ll keep running.

Nothing will hurt.

The moment will be yours – for one moment, the entire world will be looking at you and only you.

You’ll break the tape. The flash will go off.

You’ll stop. You’ll finally stop. Your legs will wobble their last, and suddenly…be capable of nothing more.

Someone will catch you. You’ll lean into them.

It will suddenly hit you. You will be an Ironman.

You are ready.

Taper time

2010-08-09T19:49:00.000-07:00

According to my Garmin training logs, since January 1, 2010 I have swam 190km, rode 4,362km and run 1,531km. At first it is shocking to see those numbers logged, and then again, not so surprising.

The weeks of long training are officially over.

It's taper time for the big show, Ironman Canada, on August 29, 2010. In three (short) weeks, this adventure will be over.

Tapers are interesting beasts - while seemingly rest and less training should be a good thing, this is the time when all the aches, anxieties and uncertainties come to roost. The physical labour is over, yielding to the purely mental task of actually gearing up for the A race - rest, nutrition and removing stress from my life are more important now than ever.

Looking back on other tapers for "A" races - my first half-marathon, my first marathon, my first triathlon, my first Boston - I know I can draw some experience from them, but at the same time know that I will still make some mistakes. I've heard the horror stories - the broken goggles, the forgotten nutrition, the broken derailleur. Hopefully a stroke of good luck will be with me to ensure that my mistakes are little ones.

Right now, my legs are tired and I'm a bit drained. I'm tired of long rides and long runs, of early morning swims, and of sicky sweet carb drinks. At the same time, it has been amazing to see how the long hours of training have forced my body to adapt to the mileage and long days. Last year at the same time I was struggling to train for my first Olympic distance tri - two hour rides would leave me sapped, and yet here I am today, doing five hour rides with a run immediately afterwards!

I am nervous, anxious and fearful of Ironman Canada, and yet at the same time, ready to try and tackle it. I'm still not convinced I can swim 3.8km with 2600 people and am definitely not sure I can run a marathon in 30 degree heat...never mind AFTER doing one of the most challenging rides I have ever done. But, hey, I think I've done the work....I may as well give 'er a shot.

Iron [insert word here]

2010-07-23T14:53:00.000-07:00

Since training for Ironman Canada has become an all-consuming aspect of my life, I have taken to affectionately using the term “iron” as an adjective for all the side-effects related to this endeavor. Some examples of this amazingly flexible and descriptive adjective are:

“Iron-broke” ….new bike, carbon wheels, wetsuit, a never ending supply of GU chomps – it never stops. I did not quite believe that the $600 entry fee would be the cheapest part. But it is!
“Iron-hungry” …the concept of first lunch and second lunch is quite novel. I have also recently starting introducing first breakfast and second breakfast. Eating is good. (Note: Donovan’s less politically correct version of iron-hungry is “Iron-pig”. I have assumed that he is calling me this affectionately, of course.)
“Iron-tired” ….5 am wake-up for swim class. ‘nuff said.
“Iron-you-gotta-be-f’ing-kidding-me-another-brick-workout” …no explanation required.
“Iron-orphan” ….my poor pup Bogey.

and my personal favorite:

“Iron-bitch” ….reserved for the end of those sixteen-hour training weeks when some poor, unsuspecting barista at Starbucks screws up my order for a double no-foam non-fat cappuccino.

And so the story goes. During those long training sessions, I find a lot of time to reflect. Most of all, it amuses me to step back and consider the remarkable changes in my life over the last nine months, absorbed by the strange lifestyle of an Ironman trainee.

I realize I have always been a bit more Sporty Spice than Posh, but the tomboyishness has elevated to a whole new extreme. For instance, at any given moment in any day I am sporting either chain grease or chafing of some sort. Really very ladylike and glamorous, I know.

My aesthetician would be horrified to know that butt butter is my moisturizer of choice, and forget anything about a manicure. Gotta keep the fingernails trimmed to facilitate putting on the wetsuit and doing bike maintenance. Those dark circles under my eyes? Goggle marks. Together with my weird tan lines, they complete the “iron-dork” look.

My hairdresser recently suggested a chemical straightening process, requiring three days without getting my hair wet to let the treatment set in. Horror of horrors, doesn’t she realize that my hair is soaked at least twice a day? And who needs cute hair when it is always stuffed into a bike helmet, swim cap or visor? Just don’t trim the ponytail off. I need that.

My eating habits have turned into simple necessity. Iron-pig indeed. Forget about preparing meals a la Bon Appétit. I need food, and I need it NOW. Gourmet out. Quick food in. The owner of the sandwich shop across the street from my office is floored by the fact that I order a sandwich, cookie, pop, fruit AND a bag of chips. Likewise, the girl at Jugo Juice always questions me when I ask her to double the protein shot in my smoothie. Although, to be fair I suppose it does sound kind of crazy coming from a 115 pound, petite female.

I hope to one day see my family and non-triathlon friends again and perhaps will again stay awake on a Friday night past 10pm. I also hope to plan a vacation that does not involve toting a Rubbermaid container full of gear, and will someday soon ban Ensure and nutritional supplements from my diet until I am at least 80.

Aside from all this strangeness, though, perhaps the best side-effect of being immersed in training has been the people I have met along the journey. Everyone in the triathlon community, from my training buddies to my coaches to the peeps at the bike shop have been supportive, helpful and inspiring.

Even complete strangers are supportive. Last weekend in Penticton, we were doing a ride along the Ironman course and one of the support vehicles for another group of riders stopped to offer me a cookie, water and some encouragement. In this day and age, a total stranger going out of their way to be helpful and friendly completely floored me. Even more so, he actually seemed genuinely interested! I can commute to work and back in Vancouver for weeks before a stranger actually speaks to me or acts friendly….it has sadly been my experience that people would rather look at their feet, avoid eye contact and try to escape any type of interaction. If it takes getting on a tri bike and sporting an aero helmet to get people to be friendly, then hey, I’m all for it.

I have also been fortunate to get to know a wonderful group of people who have become my support network, my training cohorts and at times, my mind of reason. While some may reason that misery simply loves company, I have in the past couple of months been fortunate to meet and get to know some amazing people - all incredible athletes and wonderful souls. You all know who you are – thank you for the support, the laughs and the inspiration. It makes it easier to keep at it day to day with you beside me. You are my “iron-peeps”.

So, it is with a combination of amusement and heartfelt appreciation that I move into my last month of training for this ridiculously expensive, tiring yet character-building adventure. Giddy up!

Subaru Vancouver Half-Iron race report

2010-07-04T23:18:00.000-07:00

My first triathlon was exactly one year ago - the sprint distance at the Subaru Vancouver. I accomplished exactly three goals that day: I did not drown. I finished. I did not finish dead last...but not by much.

365 days later, on the road to Ironman Canada in August, I lined up on the very same beach for the half-iron distance. Pretty tall order for someone who purchased their first road bike 20 months ago and learned to swim front crawl 15 months ago!

Somewhere in-between I have turned into the tri-geek that I vowed I would never become - complete with funky spandex outfit, aero water bottle, carbon tri bike, elastic laces for my shoes, compression socks and a visor. And on Tuesday of this week, I completed the transformation to the dark side with my purchase of the aero-helmet. As though being an accountant were not dorky enough.

Swim
Goal(s): Avoid the chaos. Don't puke.

My swim is still not pretty, but it is getting more comfortable despite the rampant flailing. I am a land mammal, that is clear. However, I succeeded today in staying out of the chaos of the start, sticking to my own pace, and legging it out without incident. There was a wicked current and some interesting wave action, leading to some very high sodium intake and a little bout of seasickness. However, I made it through....albeit in a very un-outstanding 37:27.

Bike
Goal(s): Drink. Eat. Wee.

For the uninitiated, I apologize. Long distance runners and triathletes alike tend to fixate on certain topics that are somewhat less than glamorous. Nutrition and its by-products are one of such topics, and were the focus of my ride today.

After having suffered from sub-par nutrition at Oliver, my goal here was to drink every last drop of my GU Brew (which included a few scoops of extra carb for good measure), eat my gels, take my salt pills and widdle at will.

It was all good except for the widdle part. Not for lack of trying! I experienced complete mind-body dissonance between the necessity to stay hydrated and the total social unacceptability of weeing in public. So the good news is that I arrived in T2 with a clean bike. The bad news is that I wasted some time on the run trying to find a socially acceptable place to widdle.

Other than the fixation on nutrition, the bike was pretty uneventful. It was a tough course with constant undulation, some funky crosswind and no real chance to just settle in and cruise. Not surprisingly, my average speed was less than at Oliver.

The new aerohelmet was really comfortable. Not sure that it really sped me up, but damn, did I ever look like a dork :)

Run
Goal: Tough out the fade.

Easier said than done! For those of you cheering, I want you to know that I really, really appreciated it. The lack of cognizance or any blink of recognition was not aimed at you intentionally - my energy was completely and utterly consumed just keeping the run going.

The darkness first appeared around 6k, went away with some gel, and reappeared at 12k. It tricked me into a lot of negative thoughts and taunted me to stop. For anyone who has done an endurance event, this is familiar territory. Feel good. Feel awful. Want to quit. Feel good again.

At the final turn at Spanish Banks, I was really really excited that there were only 3k left. And then I saw Nicole charging up behind me, running the same blistering pace that she did in Oliver. The fear of being passed took over and lit a fire under my rear end....miraculously I even managed to speed up over the last 3k!

Thought I was around 5:08, so was really surprised to see 5:02 and change on the clock when I arrived at the finish line. Official finish: 5:02:48!

The best part was that my race effort was rewarded with a visit to the podium as 2nd place for my AG. Even though I know that the best age groupers in my category were not racing, I am still pretty proud to have been named the BC Provincial long-course AG champion for 2010!

(OK, so it's kind of like being Starbucks barista of the year when you kick all of the other coffee shops out of the competition. The title really doesn't mean anything...but it's still fun!)

All in all, I find it totally amazing that all the training is paying off. I look back to one year ago and realize that I have come a LONG way from the sprint tri last year. Knowing that a very tough month of training for IMC is coming up, it was nice to relish in the small victories of the day, even just for a few moments. Triathlons are complex, with lots of moving parts and things to master, but I am slowly learning.

Some shout outs! Great bigs hugs and thanks to....

everyone that came out to cheer!

Donovan for getting up at the crack of early and lugging my stuff over to transition for the 6:30am start

my training buddies who keep me motivated day in and day out and share in the collective suffering

to Coach Calvin for great guidance and the cowbell

to Nicole for being such a bloody fast runner and scaring me into running faster. I have no doubt you will run me down at IMC.

and last but not least, to Speed Theory for selling me some speed :)

STATS

Finish: 5:02:48
Swim: 37:27
T1: 3:20
Bike: 2:44:42
T2: 1:48
Run: 1:35:34

Overall: 59/241
Women: 12/72 (includes pros)
Category: 2/11

Ride to Conquer Cancer

2010-06-21T19:32:00.001-07:00

While there have been many breakthroughs in research for treatment, prevention and cure, stats say that one in three Canadians will develop cancer in their lifetime. A full one-third of us will hear those terrifying words - "You have cancer". So it was with hope of playing a small, small, infintesimal part in the monumental task of conquering cancer that I joined 2000 riders on a two-day journey from Vancouver (well, Surrey) to Seattle (actually Redmond) to raise awareness and funds for the BC Cancer Agency.

The ride itself is symbolic. There were words and themes repeated during the course of the weekend - Hope. Courage. Loss. Inspiration. The 250 kilometres covered over the course of the two days were not supposed to be easy. It was meant to be a challenge and a testament to the human spirit.

The gravity of the event struck me before I even started pedaling on Saturday morning. Arriving in Surrey at 6am on Saturday morning, there were literally thousands upon thousands of people out to show their support. Riders, survivors, volunteers, support crew, families. It was amazing to see the turnout, and even more astonishing to hear that amongst this crowd, over $9.2 million was raised. The opening ceremonies had me in tears - it was a memorial for all those who lost their battles, a celebration of life for those that had survived theirs and a call to action that future generations benefit from the funds raised.

Day 1: Surrey to Mount Vernon, WA - 129km

Word of the day: EPIC.

At 7:15am, we clipped in and began our journey. I have never experienced such chaos on a bike! Utmost care was required during the first few kilometres to stay clear of other riders. It is here that I will express my only non-weather related criticism of the event - for the first 30km to the border, the lead vehicles held the riders back at a top speed of 30kph including downhill. Whatever the organizers were trying to accomplish had the opposite effect - it was a dangerous, chaotic, unsafe log-jam of riders. The faster riders had nowhere to go and as the masses swelled into the back of the lead vehicles, you were forced to swerve and ride your brakes just to stay off the crowd. Bad, bad situation.

The border crossing, as a result, was total chaos but I managed to cross fairly quickly. Once clear of the pack of riders, I skipped through the first Pit Stop at Blaine Middle School and opened up along the coast. The first section -winding down along the coast- was scenic and fast. I realized that I was going a little hard, but didn't really care. It just felt good to be moving.

The weather turned out to be glorious, sunny and warm, but with a fairly substantial south headwind. I had decided to take Ora out for the ride - although she was not ideal for riding in the masses at the beginning, she was perfect for the long straight stretches through the countryside. I deliberately stayed out of the draft of the pelotons and just enjoyed being down in the aerobars. A group of about 15 riders caught me on the north side of Bellingham and I noticed that my brother-in-law Mark was part of the group, so I latched on for a short section through town, feeling that it was safer to be part of the group. After a quick break around 87km, the most challenging (but beautiful) section of road began past Padden Park and around Lake Samish, followed by a final uninspired section of straights (complete with headwind and rough pavement) into Mount Vernon.

We rolled into the Mount Vernon camp around 12:30pm to find that there were only about 20 bikes racked....where was everyone?!! It was pretty cute when a couple of the volunteers and spectators took my picture because I was the first female rider across the line. However, they thought I had completely lost my marbles when I quickly changed and headed out for a short 5k brick run :)

Had a great little run, then back to camp for a massage and shower. There was no wait for the massage (woo-hoo!!!) and the shower facilities totally rocked - after a warm shower, a blow dry (lux camping!!!) and some snacks, I felt recharged and ready to....um....sit around and do nothing! We spent the afternoon savoring regional delicacies....aka Rainier Beer and smokies, but honestly by around 6pm I was ready to call it a day :)

The tent city was quite something to behold. There were rows upon rows of little blue tents and the facilities in general seemed to be sufficient to hold the 2000 riders and support crew. There were never really any substantive line-ups and the services were quite adequate, although I must say that I was quite thankful that it was dry, sunny and warm.

Day 1 GPS stats:

Ride: 132.87km in 4:30:43; total time 5:16:55; Avg speed 28.7kph.

Run: 5.18km in 23:32; Pace 4:32 min/km.

Day 2: Mount Vernon to Redmond, WA - 119km

Word of the day: SOGGY.

My tentmate thankfully woke me around 5:15am. After peeling my sore back off the thermarest (I am apparently not as young as I once was....sleeping on the ground did me no favors), I quickly headed out for breakfast. I knew I needed to move quickly to avoid the crowds. Sure enough, we had just enough time to eat, pack up and get the bikes ready before the masses overran the camp. When the ride started at 7:15am there were still hundreds left in the camp lined up for breakfast and packing up.

Quite the opposite of the previous day, Day 2 brought us fog, mist and a bit of chill. Even though the headwind was gone, it was a soggy, cold ride.

Heading south towards Lake Stevens and Snohomish, the route was scenic albeit more technical than the previous day. There were a number of obstacles made worse by the marginal conditions - about a dozen railway crossings, a treacherous downhill wooden bridge and substantive mileage spent on narrow paved bike paths with regular stops for gates and turnouts. As a result, the average speed dropped quite substantially and caution was the word of the day. I saw three wipeouts first-hand, and judging from some of the bumps and bruises at the finish, suspect that there were quite a few accidents on Day 2.

At the Lake Stevens "lunch" stop (I think it was only 10:30am!), I was getting chilly and decided to skip any further breaks. I only had a thin shell and knew that if I did not keep moving that hypothermia would set in very quickly. I rode pretty much the entire way on my own - thankfully the route was extremely well-marked. The section through Snohomish was fairly hilly and it was here that I decided to take off my rain shell because the sky was brightening up and it had started to warm up. Of course, murphy's law, the deluge set in about 10 minutes later and I was forced to slog the last 30km in downpour without a rain jacket on. I knew that if I stopped I would get too cold, so just moved on as fast as the conditions would bear.....VERY eager to be finished.

I arrived at the finish line just after noon - very soggy and very happy to be finished. There were only about 15 bikes when I arrived and I felt very, very sorry for anyone who was still out in the deluge. The dreary weather unfortunately cast a little pallor on the finish line - what should have been a celebration was a dash for dry clothes and shelter!

Day 2 GPS stats:

Ride: 118.05km in 4:02:14; total time 4:39:14; Avg speed 29.2kph.

The synopsis? An extremely well-organized event and a worthy cause. My team members, sponsored by Fairmont Hotels and Maple Leaf Foods, raised $53,760 and a total of $9.2 million was raised by the BC riders.

Moreover, it was a worthwhile and inspiring experience. I rode alongside survivors, marked by their yellow flags, whose will to live was so infectious and inspiring. I also rode alongside so many who had lost loved ones - children, parents, spouses, friends - a heartwrenching reminder of why cancer research is so important.

And I wore sunscreen, even in the rain.

Thanks, guys!

2010-06-11T22:10:00.000-07:00

My tri shop, Speed Theory,has updated their website. It's great - with links to product websites, information on stuff going on at the shop and details on races and events the peeps are participating in.

I'm also totally flattered that they've put a link to my blog on their site! Thanks!! You guys rock....but you knew that already :)

Oliver half-iron race report

2010-06-07T17:44:00.000-07:00

As part of the lead-up to IMC, I have signed up for two half-distance races - the Oliver half and Subaru Vancouver (in July). I had mixed feelings going to Oliver this weekend - I had not trained specifically for this race, it was just part of the comprehensive IMC training plan. At the same time, I have never trained so much in my life so by all standards was probably as ready for a half-iron as I ever would be....that is to say, assuming that one is ever really ready to swim 2k, bike 93k and then run a half marathon :)

The day before the race was not ideal pre-race prep - it felt rushed, un-relaxed and chaotic. The night before the race was even worse - I had a lot of trouble sleeping and only managed to nod off around 2am...which meant a mere 2hrs 45 of sleep before the longest distance triathlon I have ever done.

Race morning turned out perfect weather-wise. It was warm, yet overcast and although rain threatened, it never appeared. I arrived at transition around 6:15am, which gave me just over an hour to get my transition set up, change into my wetsuit and head over to the swim start. It ended up feeling a little rushed, note to self to leave more time.

Following the men's wave start at 7:30am, I took my place with the women at the edge of the lake. My experience with open water starts has been mixed and even with the amount of swimming I have done this year, I was nervous about the swim and did not want to overestimate my abilities. My plan was to find my pace and keep it nice and easy.

That plan lasted exactly 200m.

As expected, the start was a clawing, splashing mess. Totally unexpected, I was kicked HARD in the abdomen. Involuntarily, I righted myself in the water, started hyperventilating and threw up a little. Yes, I puked. How gross is that?? So much for calm. I flipped onto my back and started panicking....it was awful. Tears in my eyes, I flipped over and breaststroked through the melee, trying to get the courage up to put my face under the water.

At this point I was being passed by everyone like a lame fish in the school. I was breathing hard, heart racing and tears welled in my eyes. This was crazy. I can't swim. I can't even breathe. I was sweating in my wetsuit, making my goggles fog with tears and just wanted to get out. NOW. It took every ounce of will not to swim over to the rescue zodiac that was so conveniently located about 25m away.

A few more kicks on my back. Wait a minute, did I really work this hard to give up now? Could I salvage something out of this start? Could I calm down, put my face in the water and start moving forward again?

I moved out of the masses and into calmer water to the far left, breathed deep and started slowly swimming towards the next buoy. It felt like 15 minutes had passed and I was only at the second buoy. No matter, I would just breathe easy and move forward. Left, right, breathe, repeat. I tried to forget where I was and lose myself in the monotony. Left, right, breathe. After what felt like an eternity, I reached the 800m buoy, my first turn. Around the buoy. Left, right, breathe. I started sighting every fifth breath and was quite surprised to find that I was actually tracking straight. Small victory. Left, right, breathe. Just before the next turn, I saw a blue cap...a male swimmer. I had caught someone. Another small victory.

After rounding the 1500m buoy, I found a little more courage and picked up my pace. I was almost in. I would forget what the clock would tell me, shake it off and get on with my race. As I looked up exiting the water, the clock said 48 minutes. Subtract 10 for my wave and I was out in 38 minutes. Not good, but I had survived the swim. Wetsuit yanked off, I hobbled down the looooong transition area to my bike.

I was still a bit upset by the time I reached my bike and decided to take my time in T2. There would be no more crying today. Breathe, relax, get ready to ride.

When I started pedaling away, I immediately noticed something wrong with my rear brake. It was dragging on the rim of my tire and as hard as I pedaled, it just fought with me. Drag, drag, drag, drag. I couldn't believe it. From one thing to the next. I tried adjusting the brake, but realized that I was just going to cause an accident if I did so, so ended up pulling over at the junction of Hwy 97 and Tucelnuit Drive, about 10k into the ride. Got off the bike and adjusted the brake. Aaaaaah. Pedaling has never felt so easy as it did then.

After these two upsetting setbacks, I was unamused. Instead of giving up, though, I took control. I started passing people on Tucelnuit, one after the other. Stayed in my aerobars, kept my cadence quick, and fixated on enjoying the gorgeous course along Black Sage Road. I rode consistently but not out of my comfort zone, and when I noticed that my average pace was just over 34kph, decided to keep it up. I was passing more riders than were passing me and felt great (in all, the stats tell me that I passed 116 riders on the bike). After having such an awful swim and losing so much confidence in my bike during the previous two weeks it was uplifting to feel like I was doing something well.

At the intersection of Hwy 97 my tubes ejected from the back cage when I bumped over the cattle guard. Had to get off my bike again, run down the hill, pick up the tubes, run back up the hill and get back on the bike. Damn!!! At this point, I resigned myself to the fact that the stars were simply not aligned for me. This was a training race after all, and lessons are there to be learned.

The next lesson I would learn would be about hydration. My new speedfil made it easy for me to drink on the fly, and I made sure that I ate my GU chomps and gels on regular intervals whether I felt like it or not. I thought that I was drinking lots, but to my chagrin, realized upon racking my bike that I had only drank half of my water. That meant I had a mere 500mL of fluid over 3 1/2 hours of activity.

Bike to run transition went smooth, I stopped for a quick potty stop, and headed off on the run. I knew that with so little fluid in me that I would fade fast in the heat of the day - it was probably about 18 degrees at this point - and made a concerted effort to stop at each and every water station. I made a wonderful discovery - flat cola is gooood stuff. Down went a half glass of cola and a couple sips of water at each water station.

My pace for the first 10k was decent - about 4:45/km, but as I expected with the lack of hydration, fatigue quickly set in. My long-shot goal run time was 1:39, and I abandoned this quickly, instead shooting for my realistic goal run time of 1:45. It wasn't a stellar run for me - actually just plain slow in my books - but it was a consistent effort.

I had two thoughts as I crossed the finish line. Damn, that was harder than I thought. Double damn, how am I going to go TWICE that distance in less than three months?!

Not a perfect race by any standards but I finished 70.3 in one piece and am proud that I hung in there. My synopsis of the day:

1. Totally pooched the swim. Open water survival techniques need vast improvement.

2. Rocked the bike. Ora, you are a good girl. I'm sorry I swore at you last week.

3. Survived the run. I can do better than just survive.

I have two and a half-months to learn, train and learn more before IMC. Four weeks to put it to the test at the Subaru Vancouver. Wish me luck! :)

Thanks to Coach Calvin, everyone at Speed Theory and all the peeps at PSTC for getting me this far....we're having fun now right!?

Finish: 5:12:42
Swim: 38:06
T1:5:34
Bike: 2:41:52 (34.5 kph)
T2: 1:42
Run: 1:45:31

Overall: 142/971
Women: 27/444
Category: 6/77

This tri stuff is FUN!!

2010-05-16T21:30:00.000-07:00

Did the UBC Olympic distance tri today - 1,500m pool swim; 40k bike; 10k run. Well, make that a 10.7k run, but who is really counting? :)

After a week of the weather forecasters calling for rain, it turned out to be a glorious, perfect day for a race. Warm, not too windy and a little overcast to keep the sun off. I even enjoyed the little gusts of wind on the run since they were keeping me cool!

My pre-race regimen was a little lacking - realistically this race was intended to be a long training day rather than a key race - but due to the arrival of summer weather on Thursday I was feeling more like enjoying the preceding days and not a lot like taking anything too seriously. Saturday was spent doing a 120k ride with the PSTC group out to Boundary Bay, followed by a long walk (9k) out along the beaches with Donovan and Bogey, then some patio time at the Galley at Jericho Sailing Club....which meant a burger, fries and ice cream. Good pre-race nutrition, right!? So, quite deservedly, I had an awful sleep last night and woke up with a headache!

Luckily, my heat time was 12:05 and left me plenty of time to leisurely collect my things and head to the transition area around 10:30am. This would be my first "pool" tri and only my third tri ever, so I wanted to go suss everything out in advance.

The twenty or so people assigned to heat 1f gathered on the pool deck just before noon, and I was happy to have a couple people from my tri group in my heat. It was nice to joke around and relax a little instead of stressing about the race - case in point, when asked if we had any questions, one of the guys pipes up....are there any sharks? It kept the mood light :)

Unlike the chaotic open water swims I had experienced before, the pool swim was quite civilized, with swimmers self-seeding and being released in 10 second intervals. Up and down the pool for 800m, get out of the pool and repeat another 700m, then a long run out of the pool and into T2. My swim went fairly well, seeing as I am a swim newbie and still rather uncomfortable in the water. I even managed to pass 5 people and was only passed once. Swim still needs work, but much better than before. Didn't wear a watch in the water to remove the pressure, so just hopped out and into T2 without concerning myself about time.

T1 went pretty well, apart from my bike mount which needs work. Still pretty scared of the "flying" mount and was pretty cautious. No garage sales needed. Once on the bike, I settled in and eased myself into the aerobars. This was only my 5th ride out on Ora and admittedly I am still a little (a lot) scared of her....but there is no time like the present to get used to it! A TT bike is perfect for the UBC course - 4 laps x 10k on SW Marine Drive - straight, mildly sloping and damned fast if you are motivated. I was a little shaken after being sideswiped with a gust of wind on the first turn, but managed to keep my laps relatively consistent. Nice and conservative, not pushing too hard. Ride time was about 1:10, avg speed of 33.4 km.

Coming into T2, I spun out my legs and started focusing on the run...which is really my strongest of all three disciplines and where I needed to do well. Drank the rest of my GU Brew, took a gel and thought about what I had to do. T2 was good, apart from my dismount (see above, needs work). The new elastic laces in my Brooks T6 racers were a snap to put on.

I tore out of T2 and managed to punch in a first kilometre 4:06. Nice, but not something I thought I would be able to hold. Dialed it down a little, kept my cadence high, slowed to around 4:20/km and just started coasting. It felt great to run. First 3k passed in no time and I was having a lot of fun, seeing people I knew, cheering on the other runners and enjoying the day. It wasn't until I hit 7k that I realized that I was actually holding my pace....which is really funny to me because last week at the Sun Run I was totally suffering at the same pace, here I was today just coasting along and enjoying life. The support on the course was great too - friends, other runners and volunteers were all so encouraging and positive!

When my watch beeped at 9k - 39:06, it signaled that it was time to give 'er....except that when 10k arrived, the finish line was nowhere in sight! Ugh! My GPS marked 10.7k when I reached the finish line - I was tired and a little disappointed. Had not planned to sprint for nearly 2k at the end. I also really wanted a 43 minute 10k (which I did have 43:28) and now my watch was showing a 46:35 10.71 km run. At least everyone had to run the same distance!

All in all, a very fun race and an encouraging start to the season. Final time was around 2:28, which I was very pleased with considering the extra 3 minutes or so for the run. Comparatively, my only other Olympic distance - the Vancouver triathlon last year - was 2:35. Yay! Training pays off!

As an added bonus, my time was good enough for 2nd overall and first in my age group. How fun is that?! Beginner's luck I think....and a thin women's field. :)

I really appreciate everyone that came to cheer (Donovan, Hoz, Greg, Tav...you're awesome!). Thanks also to Calvin at Finish Line Coaching as well as the folks at Speed Theory (Doug, Jeremy, Nicole). You all rock!

Stats:

Finish time: 2:28:35
Overall 19/244
Female 2/??
Division 1/14
Swim (with T1) 29:13
Bike (with T2) 1:12:33
Run 46:50

Sunny run in Raincity

2010-05-09T21:11:00.000-07:00

I've always found it amusing that Vancouver hosts the "Sun Run" of all things. Raincity, living up to its nickname, does not really offer up that many sunny spring days...typically we get more rain than rays chucked at us. Mind you, if organizers called it the "Slog your butt through 10k in the Rain", it probably wouldn't be the 2nd largest timed 10k road race in the world - I think only Bolder Boulder is bigger.

Speaking of which...Bolder Boulder is a great name for a race. It's really too bad that not much rhymes with Vancouver, apart from the obvious possibility of Manoeuvre Vancouver!? However, that does seem to be a fitting name if you were one of the 40,000 odd-participants crushed today into the start line on Georgia, doesn't it? :)

Notwithstanding my amusement at the ironic name, mother nature decided to fully cooperate and turned in a glorious, sunny day for Sun Run 2010. With fresh sunburns and tired legs from a 130k ride yesterday, I was not feeling terribly energetic as I herded myself into the starting corral with the masses. However, it was hard not to enjoy the carnival-like atmosphere and the fantastic sunshine. Race organizers could not have ordered up a more perfect day!

[Note to reader: I will preface the rest of this race report by stating upfront that I am a terrible 10k runner. "Wasted potential" would be a good description. The incremental pain and suffering that goes along with increasing my speed even for 3/4 of an hour is so awful....give me a half-marathon any day of the week. My rationale is that I simply lack that top gear that good 10k runners seem to possess at 9k when they start whizzing past me. I just have two speeds. Starting speed and everything after!]

The mass start was complete and utter chaos. Some observations about being packed like a sardine in the starting corral and for much of the first 2k of the race:

There are definitely a few runners with hygiene issues. Is it too much to ask that you shower, say, sometime in the week leading up to the race?! If people are stepping away from you in the corral...you might think about why that is. Unless of course this is your strategy to get away from the start line chaos.

The self-seeding system seems to have its flaws. Manoeuvre Vancouver indeed. I particularly love the walkers that start at the front, walk four abreast then seem aghast when the runners slam into the back of them. Oh, and the guy with the 6 year old child, walking. Good one. I put on the brakes pretty hard to get around your little girl...let's hope everyone else did too. Oh, and the pre-teens running 12 minute miles in crocs....

OK. Enough about that.

The best part of today, other than the sunshine, was that I completely stuck to my race plan. Seeing as I did not actually have a race plan, this was very easy to do and meant that things went very well indeed!

Fought the crowd most of the first 2k and just tried to keep as straight a line as possible. First 2k were just under 8:00, then dropped the pace to 4:15/km and kept moving along. The zeal of the crowd definitely diminished by the time we rounded into English Bay...those who should not have been in the starting corral were falling apart and by the time we reached Pacific, the crowd had thinned and I had lots of space to work with. It was nice to see some friendly faces cheering in this section!

It was warm, hot even, but I did notice a bit of a headwind as we started winding east. The nasty little uphill section up Hornby really sucked the wind out of me - my pace noticeably slowed here, heartrate shot up and a little nausea crept in. I held it together, somehow, knowing that the lovely downhill of the Burrard bridge was just in front of me, and picked it up on the way back down. I was halfway around 21 minutes, but knew the second half would be slower.

From 6k through 9k was maintenance - probably could have pushed a little harder, but just got into a comfort zone. I was pretty consistently passing people throughout the section on 6th Avenue and felt pretty decent. No need to bring back the nausea :)

Tried to pick it up at 9k over the Cambie, but as noted earlier, I just don't seem to possess that overdrive gear that so many other runners have. I felt like I was pushing, my legs and lungs were burning....yet runners were whizzing past me! The whizzing runners seemed to be predominately male - only one female runner passed me on Cambie so maybe this overdrive gear is a boy thing??

End result: a 27 second PR and a solid finish for some very tired bike legs. And to think that I need to put it all together in one day in just a week's time...yikes!

Oh, and if anyone wants to help me lobby for the name change...just let me know :)

The stats for Manoeuvre Vancouver 2010:

Finish time: 43:04

Overall: 746/39,855

Female: 93 /22,311 (broke the top 100 women! Yay for slow-ass me!)

Age group: 12 / 2,133

26.2 is your bitch

2010-05-02T18:40:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I rode from White Rock down to Bellingham, WA with a couple friends. Bored of some of the local rides, two friends were heading down to Chuckanut Drive / Larabee State Park to recon a 50k trail run so we took the opportunity to do a point-to-point ride across the border. It was a great ride - lots of long stretches with wide shoulders. The last section, just south of Fairhaven, is particularly scenic as it meanders up Chuckanut Drive with gorgeous panoramic vistas over Bellingham Bay. Though rain threatened for most of the ride, sun eventually prevailed as we pulled into the parking lot for a quick change and short 5k run brick.

What struck me as I was driving home and reflecting on a very pleasant morning of training is how fun it is just to train. There is no time pressure, you take things at your own pace and just enjoy.

Fast forward to this morning, day of the 39th Vancouver marathon. I woke up at 5:30am so I could drop a friend off at the start line and sneak in an 18k run in time to watch the marathoners pass through Kits. The run was great. It was a misty but calm morning, and I drew energy from the marathon course volunteers setting up....I must say that it was also mighty fine to run down Point Grey Road and into Stanley Park absent any traffic at all!

My jaunty little run was a walk in the park and complete juxtaposition with what I would witness for the next few hours. Bogey (my sidekick marathon super-fan) and I perched ourselves at the corner of Point Grey Road and Waterloo - this is part of the out and back section for the marathoners, approx. 31.5k on the way out and 34.5k on the return. Yes, this is the "wall". That dreaded point in a marathon when the smile starts crumbling, the legs start to ache and you wish you were anywhere but running a marathon.

This is the exact same distance where, two weeks earlier, I started unraveling at Boston. At 20 miles, your body starts a rebellion. At 21.5 miles / 34.5k, it is just an all and out assault. I could see this in the faces of the passing runners - the concentration, the pain, the exhaustion, the grit and the sheer will. And I totally understood.

Bearing this in mind, if you want to be a marathon super-fan and not a super-jerk there are certain things you never, ever, EVER say to a marathoner at 34.5k without risking life and limb:

"You are almost there" 8k is not a lot, but it is an eternity in a marathon. You are NOT almost there at 34.5k. Almost there is, like, 3 steps. Anything longer than 200m is not almost there. Trust me on this.

"Looking good" Seriously, have you ever seen anyone looking good at 34.5k? And they know it. No point in buttering anyone up.

"Run faster" My favorite. If I heard someone say this to me at 34.5k, I would have half a mind to step off the course and throw my gatorade in their face.

And yet, there we were at 34.5k on the marathon course listening to the spectators say these things.

So my sign took a different tact completely:

All in good fun, of course. But this tends to be how I feel at this point in a marathon (aka...you are mine, bitch!) so I took a chance and threw it on a sign....and loved the reactions. From high-fives to cat calls to one guy who actually stopped and had his photo taken with me and the sign. One sixty-ish woman ran past and said "damned right". It was absolutely priceless. The intended effect was to make runners smile, dig a little and forget for a minute where they were....and I think it worked :)

So congrats to all that came, saw and conquered the 26.2 today. There were great times posted out there today and the hard training paid off. Congrats to the new BQ's and some smoking fast PRs...you know who you are. Kudos to you all for hanging in there and toughing it out. 26.2 is indeed a bitch....but today she was YOUR bitch!

To train or not to train

2010-04-28T14:41:00.000-07:00

"You're running on guts. On fumes. Your muscles twitch. You throw up. You're delirious. But you keep running because there's no way out of this hell you're in, because there's no way you're not crossing the finish line. It's a misery that non-runners don't understand."-Martine Costello

I struggled today with a personal conundrum over balancing the search for sustained happiness in a crazy world that doesn't always see eye-to-eye with me and the confluence of my personal goals with the (sometimes wildly different) expectations of others.

One of the things that coaches and experienced athletes warn you about undertaking a serious athletic endeavor, whether it is a marathon or full distance triathlon or otherwise, is the impact that it is going to have on your life. To succeed, it is somewhat imperative to fully commit yourself to your goal – live it, breathe it and love it. If you can do that, stay sane and keep healthy then half the battle is won. Perseverance and commitment are not enough though – the support of those around you is absolutely critical. So when the people around you don’t understand why you are doing it, it makes things a little challenging.

I know that doing Ironman Canada will be one of the most excruciatingly difficult things I have ever done, and with four months of training left am not even that confident that I will be able to finish. Yet, I plug away one day at a time, fighting hard to balance work, training and life….and trying to stay happy doing it. Every week is a careful balancing act between the demands of work, training and those around me and admittedly, you start to become a little obsessive and weird. You start doing things you never thought you would do.

I am not a morning person, yet have started getting up at 4:45 am a few days a week just so I can fit in my workouts, time with my dog and still get to work on time. On rainy cold winter evenings, I still lace up and run even though I would prefer to stay inside. I have learned how to swim despite mostly hating every second of it. And the list goes on and on…..

So why do I do it?

Here is the answer only an endurance athlete will understand: it is difficult to train, but it is even more difficult to not be able to train.

I can’t sing worth a damn, I am not a literary or scientific genius and I am not going to win any races, yet I can run and bike and feel great joy from it. I recognize the limitations of my skills and will always be a recreational athlete, yet I am driven by the yearning to feel the wind at my back and experience those fabulous days when you feel like you could go on forever.

You do, however, learn to take the good with the bad. Your body doesn’t always want to cooperate – you get tired, you feel pain and sometimes it takes a whole lot of mental will to keep going. I realize this is not everyone’s cup of tea and that the prevailing view is probably that leisure time should be always fun and never painful. I could spend my Saturday mornings sleeping in or at the spa, Friday evenings out at a club or shopping. These are great activities, probably relaxing, and definitely not painful….yet in my mind not particularly rewarding in the long run. Doesn’t the bet on the table ultimately define the wealth of the victory?

Endurance racing is all about what you have in you. It’s about going until you see what you really have in your core, digging deep and pulling something more out when you begin to think there is just nothing left. It is horribly painful at times and any marathon runner will tell you that it never really gets easier (if it is getting easy then you are not working hard enough!). You never finish a race without experiencing a multitude of highs and lows or without struggling a bit and, for me, without at least once or twice thinking about quitting. But you don’t quit. You never quit.

There is a certain sense of accomplishment, and maybe even a little euphoria, that comes from the discipline, hard work and focus of training. I understand why it is not for everyone, and yet, I hope that this explains a little why it is for me.

114th Boston marathon: race report

2010-04-20T18:55:00.000-07:00

On Monday, April 19 I ran the 114th Boston marathon. It was my 14th marathon and 4th Boston marathon (having run in 2006, 2008 and 2009).

Compared to other years, I was pretty "serious" during the days before the race. No excessive time on my feet, eating clean, lots of sleep. I had planned to spend a week in Boston so there would be plenty of time for enjoyment after the race. As it turned out weather-wise, it was not difficult to spend Saturday and Sunday inside....it was rainy, windy, cold and pretty much downright miserable outside most of the weekend. I fretted that I had brought the wrong race kit and kept a close eye on the weather forecast fearing that I would be forced to go out to buy some cold weather racing gear!

Monday morning turned out to be quite glorious, however. Clear, sunny and not too cold - it was arguably the warmest two hours I have spent in the athlete's village in Hopkinton. We caught the bus just after 6am to try to beat the crowds a bit, and sure enough, after boarding the bus could see the line-ups snaking back into the Boston Common. We arrived in the athletes village in good time to secure a nice sunny spot under the tent, grab a coffee, eat a bagel with PB and banana and relax a bit. It was really quite pleasant.

Just after 9am, the loudspeakers beckoned us to pack up, gear up and make our way towards the starting corrals. It was much busier and crowded than I remember in prior years, but Donovan, Ray and I managed to get to each of our gear drops and out to the starting area in enough time to get into the corrals by 9:45....15 minutes before gun time. This year I was in corral #10 - although it was predominately male runners, I found a few female runners roughly my age to chat to. It was nice to make small talk and take the edge off the tense minutes before the start gun.

My start time offset was about 8 minutes and it felt like an eternity to reach the start line. After an initial screaming halt, the crowd of runners around me went off with saddles blazing. The pace off the line was very, very fast. First km beeped - 4:16. Yikes. I plugged into my iPod and found a techno song with 94rpm pacing and focused on only two things....not getting smashed by the crowd and keeping my cadence high. Although the pace was hard, I knew that I had to keep my cadence high in order to save my quads down the opening descent.

The first 10k of the Boston marathon course is predominately downhill and it is quite a scene. A mass of runners reaches out in front of you as far as the eye can see....an organic mess of pounding, sweat and dri-fit. The screaming crowds are frenetic and trap you from both sides into the horde of runners. Particularly on the steeper downhill sections, it is quite amazing to be in the midst of this mass of humanity. There is nowhere to move, and if you can find a gap to run in you seize it. Speeding up does nothing. There are 10,000 runners in front of you. Slowing down means a rush of runners past you. It's like driving on a freeway at rush hour - you kind of find the pace that your section of traffic is moving and shuffle along with it.

In the windier sections, the crowds were particularly useful - I would just duck in behind a group to block the wind and coast behind. The bigger problem, however, was the beating sun - the weatherman that had predicted clouds was way off. Worse, I had trusted the forecast and foregone my cap in favor of sunglasses, so had nothing on my head to shield the heat.

Attached to my wrist was an elevation-adjusted pace band for a 3:20 finish...this would be my guide for the next 42km. The planned first half was 1:38, with a back half of 1:42. I knew from past experience that the first 10k of the race was fast and tried to keep it reigned in....but it didn't work. First 5k passed - 21:50. Yikes. 10k - 44:20. More yikes. Yet my legs were happily on their way and not really listening.

I was really waiting for the ball to drop around 15k as it had in prior years, yet surprisingly felt great. 9 miles passed effortlessly, then 10. I watched my heart rate carefully and made sure I held back on the uphill sections. The few times I saw a creep above 180bpm, I dropped back until I settled at 176-178bpm. Through Wellesley (20k) into the scream tunnel, I started to feel a bit uncomfortable from the noise and heat and yet decided it was in my best interest not to take off my arm warmers...the back half of the course is notoriously windy and cold. At each water station, I took two small sips of gatorade and a sip of water, and around 18k or so started dumping the remaining water over my head.

At 23k I decided I should probably take a pit stop. This would be my undoing. The section of potties that I chose were full (argh!) and the runners occupying them were the slowest porta pottie users ever. Frustrated, I knew I was better off just to wait than to restart and stop again...about two minutes passed before I was done and on my way. What I did not realize at the time was that I had forgot to turn the auto-pause off on my Garmin and my time had lapsed during this 120 second pottie stop. I was only checking time on 5k intervals so didn't realize my watch had stopped. At 25k I checked down and was about a minute faster than my 25k split on the pace band so happily went on my way (not realizing of course that I was one minute slow because of my mistake).

I won't lie. 25k through 30k was tough work. The course drops fairly sharply around 16 miles and while you would think that the downhill would be a happy thing, my quads were just not interested in coming out to play anymore. I was sore. I knew this was trouble....there were 10 miles left with the Newton hills looming between me and the finish. I backed off. Luckily, my pace band had planned for this drop off in pace so through 30k I was bang on...or so I thought.

The hilly section, consisting of 4 sections of up and down, stretches from 17 through 21 miles. The last hill in the series is "Heartbreak"....mostly because it is a sneaky little bugger of a hill that hits you in the back of the knees when you aren't looking and breaks your heart. Although there are some nice stretches of recovery between the inclines, there is just something about this particular section of hills - whether it be their placement on the course or my physical condition after 33k- that makes them just a total b*tch. All things considered, I was really pleased with my performance through the Newton hills - kept my pace, kept my cadence and didn't walk any of the hills. There were many, many runners walking the sections of hills.

At the top of Heartbreak, at Boston College, I rewarded myself with a few walking steps at the water station to down some Gatorade and dumped more water on my head. Bad idea. Downhill or not, my legs were just not interested in moving any further. 34k. I rationalized to myself that there were only 8k to go and I could do this. It was only 8k!

Time check at 35k - 2:44 on my watch. Happy times. A 35k PB. I could do this.

Somewhere around 37k the cramps started. My left side seized. Right quad was like a rock.

Just one more step. Then another. I counted steps. Sang along to my iPod. Did anything I could to take my mind off the pain. Self-doubt flowed freely. I hated running. I hated the heat. I hated the screaming crowds. I hated Gatorade. I hated the music on my iPod.

Rational voice appeared again fleetingly. You are 38k into a PB. There are no PBs at 38k. Only 42.2. You have worked so hard to get here, don't give it up with 4k left! Get your a** moving, Richele, and suck it up!

When the Citgo sign appeared beside me announcing 1 mile to go, I could not imagine running another step. It was the worst, most painful marathon finish ever. Plodding right on Hereford. Uphill. Left on Boylston. The oh-so-famous finish line in sight....please oh please legs just get me to the finish. I listened to the crowd and tried to revel in it, but I was just done.

A medical emergency about 100ft from the finish line forced all the finishers onto the left side of the line, and honestly, just barely had the energy to get around the medics. That poor sod, passed out 100ft from the finish. I don't really remember crossing the line and definitely did not smile for the cameras, yet was inwardly happy when I looked down and saw 3:22 on my Garmin. (Of course, the porta-potty stop-pause time had actually added 2 minutes to my time so I would find out later that my finish time was actually 3:24:17, which I was pretty disappointed with.)

Would I have pushed harder had I known I was four minutes off pace? I don't know. I'm not sure I could have.

The 30 minutes after finishing were oh so painful, perhaps even moreso than the last 30 minutes of the race. I experienced severe ab and leg cramps and very narrowly managed to escape being sent to the medical tent. I sat in the women's change tent completely defeated - my abs were so cramped I couldn't bend over to untie my shoes, my legs would not allow me to stand. It was awful. I have no idea how long it took me to change. Looking back on it now it was probably quite comical to watch me sit and try to get dressed with the dexterity of a two-year old. :)

Reflecting on my race and my three previous Boston marathons, I am left perplexed and in awe of those who have conquered this hallowed course. She demands respect. As a runner, I am much stronger than my previous three outings and yet there is so much room for improvement. I still make (sometimes silly) mistakes. Old problems disappear and are replaced by new ones. I guess that's why running is a life-long sport. We might "win" with a PB...whether it be by seconds or minutes....yet there is always a margin of improvement.

Stats:
Net time 3:24:17 (2009 - 3:29:59)
Overall 5523/22540 (2009 - 7288/22843)
Female 770/9468 (2009 - 1203/9298)
Open F 18-39 602/4651 (2009 - 966/5021)

Beantown in 10 days!

2010-04-06T18:22:00.000-07:00

Spring has sprung....the days are getting longer, the daffodils are bursting out of the soil and glorious cherry blossoms are starting to fall like confetti on the sidewalks. Oh, and onto my formerly clean car :)

Another sure sign of spring is the Boston marathon, now less than two weeks away. The taper is truly here, along with the aches and creaks and little bits of nagging training guilt that come along with it. Did I work hard enough? Maybe I should have strength trained. Done more tempo runs? More speed work? Surely that last long run could have been longer. And I could have eaten better....and on and on....

Doesn't matter. Not much can be done now except rest and recover for race day.

The 114th running of the Boston Marathon on April 19th, 2010 will be my fourth 26.2 mile journey from Hopkinton to Boston. I'd like to believe that I am a bit wiser to the hallowed race course, with its crowded start, sharp opening descent, sneaky hills and vivacious spectators. In 2006, my goal was just to enjoy the experience, relish it, and not expect too much. In 2008, I fought stomach problems from 10k onwards and just hung in to finish at 3:36-something....my first BQ at Boston but all in all, not a great marathon for me. And in 2009, I attempted to use what I had learned in my previous two outings to benefit me, ended up running a solid race against a headwind and finished in the slimmest of margins under 3:30....3:29:59. Can't forget that time!

The thing about being an admitted type-A marathon runner, however, is that we are never just happy with a good performance. Seriously. What other kind of person would just keep coming back for more? My mental notes on what I could have done better are extensive and with any luck, one or two of those mental notes will help me this year. I have a race plan (and Plan B too), and yet so much is dependent on the next 10 days, with every day closer to the race being more crucial than the day before.

At the same time, all seriousness aside, I am totally looking forward to a week in Boston! It is such a great city to visit, and we are lucky enough to have a little pied a terre booked in Beacon Hill to live like local Bostonians...um...minus the accent. I can't wait to putter down Charles Street, savor wonderful pre-race Italian fare in the North End and relax on a park bench in the Boston Common. Spring is here!