And since 2016 there have been more races and adventures…but not without time on the struggle bus

Since completing IM Canada in 2016, there have been more adventures and experiences that I haven’t written about (including another Ironman finish). Better late than never, I suppose.  For a while there, I  couldn’t bring myself to actually write about any of these my experiences, as often as I had intended to.

I lost sight of my “why” along the way. Sometimes I thought I could still see it in the distance, and sometimes I had no idea where it had gone.

But, waking up early this morning to get my run on the treadmill in before the day started with kids and work (I’m currently training for a half marathon in a few weeks) I was excited to move.  More than just excited, actually – I craved it, the movement, the push, the challenge, the “dig” for it.  Reflecting back on the past couple of years, I realize it has been a long time since I had experienced this.  I’m grateful to have met that familiar (and very much missed) feeling. I hope I can convince it to stick around!

IM Calgary 70.3, July 2018

I’ll start with the most recent adventures – in July I completed Calgary 70.3 and had the day I trained to have.

Solid swim, exactly where I expected to be.  With a 2-loop course it felt crowded with lots of jostling on the first loop, but otherwise I found some feet and cruised along.

I was excited for the bike course – flat, fast, and I had busted it out all year to make gains in my speed and strength.  With physics on my side I like being able to tuck into aero and go. I hit my goal for time and did it with a smile, exactly as planned.

The run wasn’t fast (at all!) , but I kept my smile, went at the pace I could, and had the run I had trained to have.  It was 2 minutes slower than my bike time.  Gah! So…my goal now is to learn how to run! I don’t aspire to podium or qualify for Kona, but I’d like to move more into the middle of the pack from the back.  Last year I focused on improving my bike, so this year it is time to focus on my run, starting with the half marathon I’m signed up for in a few weeks.

I finished with an abundance of gratitude for the day, a solid PB by quite a bit, and even hung out in the beer tent for a bit afterwards 🙂 I really do love the race as a celebration of the work that was done and the support received, toward the privilege of my standing at the swim start and crossing the finish line (and everything in between).

I struggled in the weeks leading up (got a cold and couldn’t get it out of my lungs), but I raced anyhow – and found myself at the walk-in clinic the next day to address the issue.  Turns out I’ve got a reactive respiratory thing happening that hasn’t been well controlled – kind of like a long-lasting exercise-induced asthma. This has been an issue for the past few years when volume increases with my lungs tending to revolt on me (and me being really good at getting pneumonia if I don’t take it easy when I’m sick).  With some new meds I’m hoping to be more proactive in addressing this going forward.

Chinook Oly, July 2018

As a training race leading up to Calgary 70.3 I did my first olympic distance race in a while.  I got talked into it about a month out – and I’m so glad I did – I loved it!! Chinook is a smaller, local race, and I’ve done it once before a few years back.  I loved being in the open water, I surprised myself on the bike, and had a strong run (followed by another  10km training run the following morning).  It was a great way to kick off the 2018 season, and rediscover my joy in triathlon.   I haven’t done many shorter races in the past few years, but I think that going forward I’m going to make sure I include them.  There is fun to be had in them that I had almost forgotten about.

Highwood Pass, June 2018

This remains one of my favorite experiences – and I opened my season with my first outdoor ride of the year with this beautiful and challenging 75+ km spin before the highway opens to traffic on June 15th (I read somewhere that it is the highest paved road in the country).  And I love that the experience has changed – from one of the most challenging things I’ve done, to a push that I look forward to and enjoy.  I rode with a training buddy who was getting ready to ride the hills of IM Canada in July, and for once, I managed to keep up on the climb.  It took just over two and a half hours to summit, then and hour and five minutes to come back down again – wheeeeeeeeee! The grin lasted for days afterwards.

IM Arizona, 2017

I just couldn’t bring myself to write about this one or share my thoughts – not in the training, and not after the race.  10 months later, I think maybe I’m ready to attempt to do the experience some justice with words…

I guess the biggest reason I struggled was that I lost sight of my “why”.

A few months after Whistler I signed up for IM Arizona 2017 with my (then) training partner.  I was excited pressing that “register” button at exactly noon on the date registration opened – I loved who I was when I was training for Whistler and I couldn’t wait to be back in the Ironman bubble again, as all of the other things that were on my plate at that time (such as negotiating the separation from my husband) because so much more manageable, and at such a chaotic time in my life, IM was something that was mine, something I could do, it was my escape from the realities of day-to-day life, and I found so much comfort in it. Whistler was my 40th birthday present to myself, and I was committed to proving to myself that, truly, anything is possible.  I remember feeling so fiercely proud of myself as I hobbled the run course and as I crossed that finish line – for all and everyone that had gone into getting me there.

Training for and racing IMAZ just over a year later was a very (very) different experience.

I was living a different reality as training for IMAZ got started – I was no longer living with my ex-husband, and with my kiddos live with me 90% of the time I found myself responsible for the bulk of child care. Training was no longer a welcome place that I could retreat into to avoid the stresses of home life – instead, it because an additional demand when I was already carrying more than I had before.  I questioned whether I could do it, and on several occasions I felt that I had no choice but to pack it in.  Procrastination, guilt, sadness, exhaustion, and resignation were my almost constant companions during those days.

I persisted in the training, but without the joy that went along with training for Whistler.  Signing up to share the experience with and support someone else as a main motivation wasn’t enough, I discovered.  I floundered, struggled, missed workouts, cried, and got sick.  I seem to always struggle with kicking a cold when volume picks up, but this time was different – I missed almost the entire month of August because I couldn’t get it to stay out of my  lungs.  Gone was a big chunk of bike volume, and gone was the majority of run volume.  I went into IMAZ without the training I wanted to have under my belt, with my confidence shaken, and hoping I could hang on and get through.  As the race got closer, I withdrew into myself, didn’t smile much, didn’t laugh much, and just plain struggled. Everything felt dark, and not something to be shared in a blog.

The excitement of the venue and of the day got me pumped up and reminded me that I really do love this stuff!! My parents have a place close by, I brought my  girls to hang out with my folks for a vacation for them, and I knew my dad would be at the finish line!

As for the race itself? I guess I can say that had the day I trained to have.

I spotted my dad in the crowd as I was about to get into the water – that sent me off with a smile.  My dad had always been apprehensive about my participation in the bigger races, so I was grateful to have him there so he could see how it all worked (and hopefully worry less as a result). The swim was pretty murky – like, difficult to see your hand in front of your face murky, but I knew that going in.  It made it difficult to draft effectively, though.  On an amusing note, I had been told that the markers were 100m apart – but that wasn’t quite right – so I was pleasantly surprised to reach the turn-around when I did, much earlier than anticipated.  I went from “wow, I’m really struggling to get anywhere in this swim” to “yay!! the turn around already!!!” in a hurry, lol.  I felt good getting out of the water and onto to the bike.

This bike course is fantastic – flat, fast, tuck into aero, and go! Wind and heat aside, what an experience to be on that course with almost 3000 other IM athletes! The Whistler bike course felt lonely, but in Arizona there were athletes everywhere – and I loved it. I like loops, so this 3-loop course suited me just fine.  That said, the wind and the heat took it out of me – even with my cooling sleeves and with frozen water bottles in my special needs bag – and I took longer on the ride than I had hoped to.

It all caught up to me about 12km into the run.  That I had been sick.  That I had missed a lot of training.  That I was feeling worn out and beat up, both physically and emotionally.   That my entire life had changed in the previous years and that I hadn’t let myself feel it (let alone deal with any of it).  As the evening got darker, so did my experience.  Physically, both feet blistered and the blisters eventually broke.  My walk/run became a fast walk, then dissolved into a painful shuffle, and there is remained until I got across the finish line.

Emotionally, I searched desperately for my “why”.  I’m pretty sure I will always remember the portion of the  course where I was crying and thinking to myself “I am suffering alone in the dark.  This is a metaphor for my life, and I don’t want to do this anymore”.  For about 25 km, I couldn’t have told you why I was there, and why I was still moving forward.  That run course stripped me of all of the things I had been hiding behind, and made me face all the stuff I had been so desperately trying to avoid.

My experience on the run course this time wasn’t one of feeling proud of myself or my accomplishments.  Instead, it tasted of guilt and selfishness – I had taken so much time away from my kids, my relationships, my family, and everything else to train for this race – and I couldn’t see my “why”.  Meanwhile, my legs kept moving, tears kept flowing, and I resolved to finish so it wouldn’t all have been for nothing.  I crossed the finish line, wrapped myself in the foil blanket, inhaled a cheeseburger while lying on the couch, and let it all sink in.

Perhaps THAT was my “why” all along – and that was the gift of the experience.  To recognize how much of my experience in day to day life felt as alone in the dark as that race course did.

Every experience is a gift – and the gift of IMAZ was to come face-to-face with myself in an inescapable way.  To prove that I can suffer for a really long time, but more importantly – to realize that I can change my relationship with suffering.  That suffering was a choice I had been making.  In finishing that race, I don’t think there will be room for doubt that I can keep moving forward, no matter what.  Even on broken blisters, if that is what it takes.  When I talk about this race now, I talk about my gratitude for what I learned in the experience of it all.  I’d love to race again and bring a better version of myself to it.

It took a few more months for me to move out of this dark place.  To re-negotiate my relationship with guilt and procrastination and anxiety and depression.  To let myself feel all the stuff that I had been trying to out-swim, out-ride, and out-run, and to come out the other side.

And now?

It seems that I have found my smiles again. My laugh. My energy. My joy.  I don’t feel like I’m suffering alone in the dark anymore.  My “why” is different – I’m no longer running away from experiences.  Instead, I am running (and swimming and riding) toward my “why’s” and my future, while trying to remember to be present in the moment and take it all in.

And I guess that finding my “why” again felt worth sharing.

Finally!

R is for recovery (and a few other words…)

It has been an interesting couple of weeks since the E’sprit race in Montreal.

I came back on a high, and really excited to connect with my tri buddies (many who were aware of my miserable experience with 70.3).  I recovered from the race comfortably physically (night and day difference from the last one!). Our masters swim club started on the Tuesday after the race, and I felt good in the pool. I felt like a monster in the pool, actually – which makes sense, since I hadn’t really stopped training. I’ve moved over a lane (to a faster one) from last year, and I’m holding my own in there.  Physical recover this time was a walk in the park.

The emotional recovery, though? Not so much…

I’ve seen articles written about “post ironman blues”, and that isn’t really it.  I have enough on my plate with trying to finish school, etc that I’m not feeling unstructured or without goals.  But I’ve discovered that these events just completely wipe me out emotionally.  Flying back from Montreal I had music on, to try and create a bubble around myself so I wouldn’t have to interact with anyone else (it was “Billy Breathes” by Phish and I just set it on repeat for the entire travel day…it was the only thing I could tolerate).  Maybe it had to do with being a little bit hungover, or maybe it had to do with saying goodbye to the buddy I did the race with (as I never know when saying goodbye to him will be the last time I see him), but I was emotionally raw.  I kept my head down and fingers crossed that I didn’t run into anyone I knew in either of the airports – I wasn’t capable of conversation without bursting into tears.

That raw feeling slowly subsided over the days post event, but I’m still down.  My coach has talked about hormonal swings after a race (due to the demands placed on the body), and I can definitely see how that might be a factor.

Eating after I came home was ridiculous (see, I am finding r words…).  It wasn’t even binging, it was gorging.  On all sorts of things I don’t normally eat.  It was disgusting, really – and went on for a week.  I didn’t gain any weight (thank goodness – I don’t think my head could have handled that), but now I’m feeling fat and slow.  And its a cycle – because I get down on myself and what do I want to do? Yeah…food is totally my drug of choice…

Doesn’t really help that I’ve been chained to my computer banging out the analysis of my dissertation (the big, important part).  I’m not built to spend 10-12 hours each day sitting at a computer – I’m just not.  I’m going to look into a standing work station asap.  Yesterday I got the chapters submitted to my committee for their review, got up from my desk (it was about 3pm), and started counting down the minutes until I could go to bed. So, so done.

Swimming has already started again, and computrain picks up tomorrow (with a time trial, of course).  I’m already feeling behind because I haven’t accomplished any of my goals for fall yet (lose weight, get strong, start yoga) nor is my head really there yet.  Just too much on my plate, my mind, and in my heart right now.  I’ll need to get back into the swing of things soon…

NOW I think I can wear my finisher t-shirt…unfinished business is great to finish!

Now I’m actually going to write a race report for a half iron-distance race.

After 70.3 6 weeks ago, I didn’t even want to acknowledge I’d done the race. Yes, I finished. Yes, finishing was my goal.

It was a stupid goal.

Please don’t get me wrong – I’m not saying that because I think that finishing is a stupid goal – AT ALL.

I didn’t know that just to finish wasn’t going to be the goal that would allow me to have the experience I needed to have.

I registered for the Esprit triathlon in Montreal about 3 weeks ago, after I just couldn’t reconcile my experience at Calgary 70.3.  Did I melt in the heat and sun, or did I have no business ever attempting something like a half-ironman? Was it that I had a bad day, or that I’m an overweight middle-aged mom who needs to stop pretending to be something and someone that she isn’t? Was it that it was a really difficult course, or that I just don’t have what it takes?

I couldn’t answer these questions, and it bothered me. The questions taunted me. And I wasn’t ok with that – not after all the friday night computrain sessions and morning swims and runs on the treadmill before the kids get up for the day and running around with them begins. I *thought* I was ready and had what it takes – but where was the evidence to back that up? Was I making excuses for being fat and pathetic?

I couldn’t bring myself to wear my finisher t-shirt, or my other (really cool pink) 70.3 shirt that I’d bought. I felt like too much of an imposter. I could barely bring myself to tell anyone I had done the race, let alone talk about it. I was mortified if anyone brought it up or acknowledged it in any way. And that really sucked – that was not how I pictured my after race would be. That wasn’t the feeling I had trained so hard to have at the end of the season.

So I signed up for another race. Even though I could have had another “bad day” and completely crushed my confidence. Even though the timing sucked, because I’m under almost impossible deadlines with my dissertation. Even though it meant more money spent and another weekend away from family – and a trip halfway across the country. Off I went, wearing my batman t-shirt and feeling like a bad-ass dragging my bike bag through the airport 😉

And you know what? I had the experience I was hoping to have. I finished – and more importantly, I felt AWESOME.

I was still one of the slowest athletes to complete the half. My goal wasn’t to get faster – my goal was to be able to perform what I had trained – and to be able to run the run (regardless of how slowly). I spent the run portion of 70.3 not making eye contact with anyone, and feeling stupid and out of place for even being on the course. That wasn’t the experience I was looking for.

Let me start by saying that the Esprit event was fantastic. The course was beautiful, and it was incredibly well organized. I arrived in Montreal on friday afternoon, just in time to be picked up at the airport by a good buddy and fellow triathlete, drop my gear at my hotel, and head to the race briefing. Picked up my package, headed out for dinner, then back to the hotel to sleep.

Headed down to the venue at 5:15am, getting there at 5:30. Set up transition, got my chip and body marking, did my pre-race porta-potty visit, and was good to go. The forecast was calling for rain, rain, and more rain – but at least it wasn’t sun and heat. It was 32+ degrees when I landed the day before and let me tell you, I was grateful for the change in the weather. I’ve never done well in heat or sun.

The swim was in the Olympic rowing basin, which means it was straight out, over, then straight back. No current. Lots of weeds, but I barely needed to sight because there were rowing cables you could follow. I tried to stay on people’s feet, and managed most of the time. I wasted a bit of time trying to pee on the way back – STILL cannot pee in my wetsuit, apparently…blah. Oh well! Finished my swim in 45 minutes and felt great.

T1 was on the slow side – maybe because I stopped to pee at the port-potty. Again, ah well – I’d rather be comfortable.

The bike course…what can I say that will do it justice? It was PERFECT. It was 20 laps of a formula 1 race track. Perfect, I tell you…and flat – lets not forget flat. I did exactly what I’d intended to do on the bike course – which was each lap between 8-9 minutes. Less time when I didn’t have to gag down a gel or a salt tab. More time when I had to fuel and for the couple of laps when there was a torrential downpour (I’m not even being dramatic when I say that!). But it was a phenomenal ride. I passed my buddy twice when he was stopped to fix a flat tire (he was doing the full distance). He caught me a while later and we rode for a bit together and chatted, and then he was gone again (even though I was doing half the distance he was, there was no way I could keep up to him – he’s my hero).

Speaking of heroes – a friend who lives about an hour away came up and sat in the rain for 6 hours to watch me go around in circles. With a sign for me. SHE was my hero – it meant so much to have support and a friendly face.

Anyhow – wrapped up the bike feeling good, and tried not to freak myself about about heading out on the run. Here was the challenge – could I run this time? Or was I really just not cut out for this?

T2 was also slow – went to the porta-potty again and made sure I was comfortable. I had stolen my buddy’s bin (the race provided the full distance athletes with one so I took his extra) and had dry shoes and socks – which rocked my world at that point because I was covered head to toe in dirt and could wring out sloshing bike shoes they were so full of water. And off I went.

I went slow – but hey, that’s where my half marathon is at, even when I haven’t just ridden 90km on a bike (and oh yeah, had a little swim). So I kept my heart rate down, kept my feet moving, and ran the half marathon.

It was an out and back, then 4 laps around the Olympic basin. My friend had parked herself along the route, so I got to pass by a few times. The first pass was: “this is awesome!!!!”…the second pass was “hey, you look great!” to which I replied “I feel great! this is a great day”….the third pass was “holy CHRIST I can’t believe I have to do another lap of this F(#&*%)#*”…and the forth pass was only about half a km from the finish, so I didn’t need to say much at all!

I fought with myself not to cry on the third lap. Not because I had started to hurt (I had, but I was ready for that), but because I was doing it. I wasn’t too fat, too old, to out of shape, too lazy – I was DOING it.

And you know what? I think now I can wear my 70.3 t-shirt as well as my Esprit one. Because I’m a triathlete, who had a bad day at 70.3 (but still finished despite that).

Screw you, doubts and second guesses. You have no business here.

NOW I’m halfway there….

I think I need a punch in the face…

Seriously…did I really just register for ANOTHER half ironman in 2 weeks from now? SERIOUSLY….

This has been met with mixed reviews. As my coach pointed out (she’s very wise), I met my goal for 70.3 – to finish. My physiotherapist advised that the only thing worse than one sub-par race was having a second sub-par race (also wise). I’m not going to make significant gains in the 6 weeks between Calgary 70.3 and the E’sprit triathlon in Montreal on Sept 6th, so why should I expect things to be any better? Why do another this season and hope for different results?

See – that’s why I need a punch in the face. Because I really do think I can do better (meaning, that I can run at least the majority of the run) and have the race that I want to have.

So I’ve signed up for the new race, bought a plane ticket, and booked a hotel. I’m going. I’m doing it. And I’m actually excited.

Yep – I could definitely use a punch in the face right about now…

I am fighting the urge to write all the reasons why I think I can do differently in this race, but I’m going to wait until after to share them. I’ll either be right about them or not – so let’s see how it all shakes out and then I’ll comment further about what worked and what didn’t. The decision is made – I’d only be trying to reinforce it for myself to talk about it more here.

But I do want to share some of the things I’m excited about…I’m excited about the swim being straight out, turn, and straight back in the olympic basin. I’m excited (and nervous! but mostly excited) about a bike course that is entirely on a formula 1 race track (even if it is 20 laps long – look for me practicing hair-pin turns in local parking lots in the wee hours of the morning…lol). And I’m excited about a looped, flat run (around the olympic basin). I’m excited to know that I don’t have 45km of up as the first half of the bike – being a heavier athlete (did you catch that? I’m calling myself an “athlete” now – whoop!!) a largely flat course plays more toward what I’m good at one the bike. I’m excited not to be miles from everywhere at any point in the race – if the wheels fall off again there is lots of support and I’ll never be further than about 4.5km away from help, porta-potties, or transition if I need to call it a day. And I’m excited (and nervous – this time maybe mostly nervous) to be prepared to give the flat run course everything I’ve got.

And I have to give props to my husband, Brad. He has made heroic efforts to support me through this (sometimes begrudgingly, but he still supports me), and for all the times I may have complained that he “doesn’t get it”, he “gets” this.

Let’s see how it all goes, eh?

I’m half way there…!!!!!

my gear!

As of July 27th, when I crossed the finish line at Ironman Calgary 70.3, I am half way there.

The day started with chauffeur service from Deb, who picked all 4 of us who were racing and delivered us to swim start. It was easy to do with no bikes to lug around (they were dropped off the previous day). She met us with words of inspiration and helium balloons to put our negative thoughts into and let go into the air before we headed to the lake. Awesome, awesome, awesome start to the day.

pre-race inspiration

I had a great surprise as I rushed to get to the water –

Brad met me before the swim start, and stuck around until I was out on the course. It was really nice to see him before things started – I didn’t figure we’d be able to find each other. Familiar faces go a long way, I’m coming to learn!

I had a good swim, though some trouble spotting with the sun glaring off the water and unclear markings on the course. But out in 42 minutes (which for me was ok). I was comfortable – it was my warm-up. I didn’t have trouble with contact with other swimmers – maybe because I started in the “newbie” wave and we spread out all over the place. But it was a good swim – I heard them call my name as I was getting out of the water and would have given a fist pump if I hadn’t been struggling my arms out of my wet-suit, lol.

At the end I got “stripped” by my swimming buddy, Gerry – and got to yell “Gerry, take off my pants!!!” which amused me, if no one else 😉 A stop at the porta-potty and a pokey transition, and I headed out on my bike.

I’d ridden the bike course before – and man alive, its a hilly one. I’m not small, so hauling myself up the hills took some work. Still – I knew what to expect and knew that the second half of the course would be smooth sailing. A few quick stops along the way to refill my hydration bottle on the front, keep my brakes from rubbing, and visit the 60km porta-potty and the bike was smooth (and faster) sailing.

And then I was in T2, putting on my knee brace and lacing up my shoes.  As I started off onto the course I kissed my kids and smiled at my husband as they saw me off on the run of IM Calgary 70.3. I started moving my feet, slowly, waiting to catch my breath and settle into my show shuffle of a rhythm for the next 21.1kms.

And the settle in didn’t happen.

After about 2kms, I realized I couldn’t run. I had trained for 8 months to finish my first half ironman, and I couldn’t run. I was suffering from a sunburn and mild heat exhaustion and my body refused to let me raise my heart rate enough to even do my slow shuffle.

Ugh – sun burn…

So I walked. I was discouraged, disheartened, and humiliated. People have always told me that you meet yourself on the marathon of a 140.6. Well, let me tell you – a half marathon is a bloody long distance to walk (particularly after a 90km bike ride and in 30 degree Celsius weather) and is ample time to meet yourself there too.

“THEN WALK”

If you can’t run, then walk – that’s what the voice inside my head said. There was no option to stop. There was no option to quit. My options were to run, and if I couldn’t, then to walk. So I walked. And walked. And walked…

I’m fiercely proud of that horrible, painful 3 hours and 20 minutes of walking. I kept moving forward when lots of others would have quit. And I think I’m pretty bad-ass for still getting across the finish line within the cut-off (though it was close!), and getting my finisher’s medal and t-shirt.

I did it!!!!!!!!

Home for an ice bath, a shower, and rest. And cupcakes…lets not forget the cupcakes 🙂