The Why

After racing twice last week (10 km run on Sunday, Sprint triathlon the following Saturday), I did what anyone would do the day afterward. I got up early, and met my uncle for a 70 km hill ride in the Gatineau Park. Wait -- what? Oh, there's more. I managed to forget my cycling shoes and gloves after packing my bike into the car. So I did the entire ride in my running shoes. Balanced gingerly atop my Keo clip pedals. Wearing my uncle's way-too-big gloves, to avoid a repeat of the "I can't feel my hands" scenario of the previous day. Because nothing says "safety first" like a fast descent where 4 out of 5 contact points to your bike are... suboptimal.

Why go? Why not just pack it in and save it for another day. Because it's today... it's right now. Maybe I'll be fine with my running shoes on the clip pedals. There's only one way to find out. Today, the sun shines and the road is closed to traffic. I've got great company and a bottle of Skratch Labs. This day is the only one we have the power to grasp, now. 

Seriously... why?

The following day, I decided to hit le Nordik, our local nordic spa. The strain evaporated slowly from my muscles as I soaked, rested, and sat through an aufguss steam-and-aromatherapy session. And I thought, why? Why race and push to the point where your muscles are set alight in fiery protest? To keep going when it would be easier to stop? Like the nordic spa (wait -- am I about to compare teeth-gritting racing to a day at the spa?) there is something purifying in it. Some have said it's in the pain. I think though, the cathartic epicenter is at the edge. The thin edge of what we think we're capable of -- which, inevitably, is different from what we are actually capable of. There is ritual in it too. In the morning runs, the noon swims, the weekly spin and strength class. Even in its challenges, the rhythm of it is reassuring. Finally, the Why is in the connection. In the community of friends, the kind support of strangers, in the mixing of people of all ages and abilities on the same course to pursue their goals. It's in your body streaming through cold water under your own power. In the wind rushing by on the bike. In the percussive metronome of your feet on the pavement, connecting you to what is real and making you feel alive.

I've come to know many who use this sport to help others -- more often than not while fighting demons of their own. That last part is pretty quiet in the grand chorus, but it makes the fight less hopeless to know you're not alone.

The next time someone sees you limping around post-race with a big grin on your face and asks "Why the hell would you ever do that?" -- may your Why come easily. And may it fulfill you.

Geordie McConnell, founder of OTC

Come on, the gear is cool too -- in a geeky sort of way

Race report - Early Bird Triathlon (Sprint)

May 16, 2015
Swim 500m, bike 23.6 km, run 5 km
3/18 AG, 16/124 OA

Swim:
Goal time - as close to 10:00 as I could get
Actual time - 12:44 including exiting the pool building (last year: 12:42)

Bike
Goal - avg. 30 km/h
Actual - avg. 29.34 km/h (last year: 28.something)

Run
Goal - break 25 minutes
Actual - 24:57

Swim. Lightheaded, warmed up in the pool to relieve the feeling of wooziness. Good swim, main goal was to go out steady enough that I didn't spike my heart rate. Passed about as many people who passed me, so seeding was ok. Wished the gals in front of me on the stairs out of the building had hustled a little more, but what are you going to do. Threw on my running shoes, grabbed my bib and headed for transition. Pushed this part harder than last year, and took a minute off my T1 time -- I knew I'd need every advantage, and couldn't waste any time if I wanted to finish strong in this large field of 250 athletes (124 women).

Bike. Had my road bike at this race, having blown a tire on my TT bike earlier in the week and not had time to address it -- including the possibility of needing new tires, new tube on the front, etc. (these doubts start to creep in when you flat on your first ride of the season). Felt a little slow, but pushed hard on the bike. The benefit of an event with a staggered start pool swim is that the bike course is really well spread out. In the final event I did last season, the fastest women were stuck needing to pass the slowest men early in the bike course as our swim start was only 5 minutes behind theirs. Unfortunately, I found my hands starting to go numb around 6 km into the 24 km bike. No problem... I don't need those last 2 fingers anyway. Then the numbness started to spread, until I was only working off my thumb and my palm -- which I thought would be adequate, until I reached for the brake lever at the turnaround point and had to look down to see if my fingers were in the right place. Hmm. I'm planning to use this bike for the hilly Tremblant Olympic course, so I made a mental note to take the 6 second hit in transition to don gloves next time.

Run. I'll be honest -- this is not my favourite run course. The first couple of km are on a slight, insidious uphill grade, on a narrow strip of uneven grass. Following this is a steep downhill to the river (which of course becomes a steep uphill on the return trip). The pleasant section on the winding path by the river is narrow, which makes passing challenging particularly when someone's coming the other way. I tried not to waste any time in transition, which was included in the run time. I felt like my legs weren't working well on that first uphill, but I just pushed as hard as I could and didn't stop until I was across the finish line. I'm so happy to have finally broken 25 minutes... this was a goal I didn't manage to quite reach last year, so this was a great way to open the 2015 tri season.

This one time, at swim camp...

I have discovered the reason why hard-core athletes get so many injuries. It's the stumbling around in the dark. Do you know how dark it is at 6:00 a.m.? The truly hard-core have probably been on the bike trainer for an hour at that point. But for me, this is a totally uncivilized time of day to be doing anything. It seems even darker when that early morning is on a Sunday. On this particular Sunday, I had signed up for TechnoSport's swim camp and was scheduled to be on the pool deck downtown at 6:45. I jumped out of bed to the sound of my alarm and proceeded to stagger around getting dressed, bumping into just about everything as my brain took its time booting up.

I scarfed some oatmeal, threw a post-workout banana in my bag, and headed out into the dark. My water bottle skidded under the car as I was packing up, and I got some bonus road salt along with my first swig. Holy mother of God... the early hour and lack of light must be playing tricks on my mind, because I could swear it's like -20 out here. But it's March 22nd, so there's no way that could be right. Could it? As it turned out, four hours later on the now sunny return trip home, the radio announcer glumly reported a current temperature of -14, -24 with the wind chill. Someone please remind me why I live here.

Malevich's "Black Square" -- also known as "Early Morning Before Swim Camp"

I knew the camp was to take place at the Ottawa U pool. No problem, I know where Ottawa U is. At least, I know the several-block area that encompasses the campus. Trying to find the pool, however, was an exercise in frustration. Pulled over in the dark, arguing with Siri that there IS such a place as University of Ottawa, that the street I'm sitting on exists outside my imagination, and how the hell do I get to the pool... it was like a Hotel California of pedestrian walkways, construction areas, and one way streets going the wrong way. I rolled down my window and called over to a fellow walking with a bag -- "Hey, do you know how to get to the pool?" As it turned out he was looking for it too. I offered a ride, which meant now I was disoriented, in the dark, with a strange man in my car. But all's well that ends well, right?

The actual camp was great -- it included underwater video and body composition analysis along with the swim coaching. Apparently, I'm dropping my elbow and pulling too far to the side, especially with my right arm. The coaches emphasized long, reaching, slow strokes. This was a departure from what I was comfortable with, and I struggled a little to keep constant pressure on the water with such a slow turnover. The masters swimmers from the same club were in the other lanes while we did our clinic. They all looked so fast, and efficient. I tried to absorb as much information as I could, and make the most of the exercises we were given. At the very end of the clinic, I got the best compliment ever -- a lady from the masters practice said "nice stroke". I did one of those things where you look around to see who she was talking to... and beamed when I realized she was talking to me.

A giant salad spinner for swim suits, which I found in the locker room. Apparently these are a thing.

A benefit to the early start? The Elgin Street Diner still had plenty of good tables available at 9:00 when I got there. Turns out my server is an aspiring triathlete, and we volleyed a few lines back and forth from "Shit Triathletes Say." Quite entertaining, if you haven't seen it.

Not just about the racing

I saw a quote today that struck me:

"Creation did not birth you to pay your bills and die."

Indeed. There are many avenues to celebrate, empower, and magnify our true selves -- not to get all incense-burning, new-age-y here. One thing I've discovered is that endurance sport, through the races, events, and the people involved with it, can be an amazing vehicle for raising funds and awareness for charitable causes. I've been fortunate enough to help raise money for different initiatives, through racing, joining charity events, even selling gear and cutting my hair (which, granted, had less athletic involvement). In some cases, contributing to someone else's fundraising has worked out even better. Case in point, donating to my friend Mike (co-founder of Good Guys Tri and all around defcon-5 endurance athlete) as he undertook a 100k run from Ottawa to Montebello to raise money for kids' cancer. "Isn't that farther than a marathon??", asked my awe-struck daughter. "Um... it's actually farther than TWO marathons." Better you than me, Mike. Keep on keepin' on.

My contributions were a only drop in the bucket, but each special cause left me with a renewed feeling of gratitude. For the health that allows me to enjoy the activities I take part in. For the health of my family. For the job that lets me go to the grocery store with my kids and fill the cart with healthy food. In that way, these small gestures to help those less fortunate actually rewarded ME more than I could have imagined. I highly recommend taking up a cause in your endurance pursuits... check out the slightly goofy examples below.

From this...

...to this! For a great cause -- the family of a little boy with special needs.

Can you find the non-superhero in this picture? No, it's not the guy in the hoodie... apparently he's legit.

Terrible Photoshop and ribbing your coworkers. Putting the "fun" in "fundraising"!

This year, I'm focusing on a single fundraising effort -- the Lap the Gats ride for Parkinson's research. This is a 3-hour tour (wait -- that sounds ominous) climbing and descending the Gatineau hills on a 21 km loop. Each rider tries to complete as many loops they can, within 3 hours. Or until they drop from oxygen debt, whichever comes first. Looking forward to rocking a road bike (that's not attached to the bike trainer) for the first time in quite awhile! Shameless plug for donations in 3... 2... 1...

***Click here to sponsor my ride to support Parkinson's research!***

I encourage anyone who's signed up for races that have an optional charity component, use it as another way to challenge yourself. Involve your coworkers. Create a team. Let your family know you're looking to support this cause. Tweet, Facebook, do whatever kids do these days that isn't so old school to spread awareness (short of selling tattoo space on your face... maybe don't do that). What you give away will more than come back to you.

Setting goals and measuring up

What is this unfamiliar glowing orb in the sky? Aggh, my eyes!!

Enough snow has melted that I can see the sidewalk (at least, most of it). Rather than go for a skate or tromp around in my snowshoes, it's time to get down to business. I've written out some goals. Made some plans for how to get there. I've got schedules -- times, distances, target paces -- all in place to help me reach those goals. And I've discovered something... I have a lot of work to do.

I might as well have out with it. My next big goal is to qualify for the ITU age group World Championships. I'm hoping to hit this goal within a 3-year timeframe, building my fitness base and more big-event racing experience till I get there. If you're a stud triathlete, you might be thinking "pfftt... not that hard". But that depth of field is a bigger pond than I've been swimming in (figuratively speaking). I make the mistake of frequenting a tri forum where egos are measured in watts, and those outside the sub-10 hour Ironman club are seen by some as lower life forms. Now, there are a lot of very helpful folks there as well... but the undercurrent of what is "good enough" versus what is not can be insidious, even when my rational self knows that is not the yardstick to measure myself by.

Best way to hide Easter eggs this year... leave them white

Racing is all relative. You race the field that shows up, on the day that presents itself, on the course that is available. Everyone's got to swim in the same 15 degree chop. Everyone's got to avoid the same potholes. Everyone pushes to the finish line in the same downpour. The actual time becomes almost insignificant... it's the course on the day that decides how long it will take for the victor (and those behind) to finish. That said, to come up with smaller goals in pursuit of my larger one, I looked through results from last year at Magog -- the race where I'll do the Olympic distance national qualifier this season. Top 10 in each age group get a spot on the team. To come in the top 10 based on last year's results, I set the following as targets:

• swim 1500 m in 30 minutes
• bike 40 km averaging 28 km/h (on the hilly Magog course... on flatter courses this season I want to average 30 km/h)
• run 10 km in 51 minutes

Until now, I've been almost embarrassed to voice those targets. Because for a pure swimmer, cyclist, or runner, or an elite triathlete, those times are not particularly fast. At all. However, if I put it in context, I've only ever done one Oly distance race. I'm pretty close on the bike and the run if I can get back to my peak fitness levels from last season (and do it without getting injured). But I am not even in the same ballpark for the swim. Like, not even in the same swim universe. I've tried to remind myself again of context. In 2013 I built up to swimming 200 m (included in there was trying to remember how to do front crawl). In 2014 I built up to 2000 m, and was really happy with my 49:02 swim time at my first half-Iron distance. This year I have to inject some serious speed if I don't want the swim to tank my chances at success. 1500 m in 30 minutes works out to an average of 2:00 per 100 m. To a swimmer, I have learned that this is pretty laughable. I did a few time trials of different distances last week to see where I'm at -- the fastest I could manage for 100 m was 2:10. For a single 100 m... forget holding that over half an hour. Oh shit. So, what can I do but create a plan to swim more, get some guidance on technique, include intervals to help my speed, build volume to help my endurance, and maybe a little dash of praying to the universe that the plan works. It's going to take all my hard work to meet this goal.

This brings me to the real thing that drove me to post today. It's been a long winter on the trainer and indoors in general, and to get motivated and feel encouraged I've been reading some blog posts and race reports. One, from coach Geordie, was titled Rich in Admiration, Free from Envy. The thrust of the post was the following -- which I have taken directly from that blog entry:

Compare yourself to others but remember these things:
1. If you see your performance as greater than others, be thankful and humble.  Remember that there are always greater and always lesser, and that you may be blessed to be in a position to inspire others.
2. If you see your performance as lesser than others in comparison, do not envy their achievement but admire it and use it to inspire your drive forward.  And, remember, you too are in a position to inspire others for you're not on the sidelines, you're in the race.

I've always admired athletes who are faster, stronger, better than I am. I see the hard work they put in, and the returns reaped from that. I've also watched athletes honour their pure giftedness, and been inspired -- and gobsmacked. Have you ever seen Mirinda Carfrae or Gwen Jorgensen blow past half the field on the run, as if everyone else was standing still? It's worth checking out. At Abu Dhabi yesterday, they said at one point Gwen was running 2:58 min/km. She holds this sort of pace for 5 km. Let me put that in perspective for you -- if I set the treadmill at 2:58 and tried to run on it, I would get shot backward into the wall of the gym like I was fired out of a cannon.

Hope that motorbike has some extra gears

Somewhere, angels are singing... and watching with a bowl of popcorn

I had a similar "holy crap" moment yesterday, reading a blog post by a talented young woman in my tri club (her blog is The Happy Triathlete -- go check it out). She is a former competitive swimmer who has made a very successful transition to triathlon. A swim workout (that it seems would have been even longer if her lane mate wasn't on a rest week) went as follows... 4000 m... with sets of 100 m at times between 1:25 and 1:35 with 20 seconds of rest in between. ...Right? And racing a single shot at 100 m, this young fish can cover the distance in LESS THAN HALF the time it takes me. Wow.

Kelsey ready for total swim annihilation

Now -- elsewhere in Kelsey's postings, she discusses being somewhat worried about her cycling. Which reminded me that everyone, even the most gifted, has something they worry about. Allegedly, Rinny (aforementioned uber-runner and 3-time Ironman world champ) at one point complained to her husband that she was getting fat. "No way," he apparently replied, "if you were getting fat, your swim would be faster." Now that's love right there. And those seemingly effortless crushings we witness? A lot of sweat, time, and suffering went into those "effortless" performances. So I'm posting my goals, which for me will take effort and time to achieve.

Wherever you fall on the spectrum athletic or otherwise, there will always be someone lesser and someone greater. Let's appreciate other's strengths, support each other in pursuit of our goals, and remember that we're not just measured by the clock. That schedule I've built? At its core are mornings of getting kids off to school and evenings of bedtime stories and snuggles. The non-negotiable items that I'll never skip.

Now if you'll excuse me, I've got to go spend some time in the pool.

"I can't stand gyms"

That's what I've been known to say. Last year, my winter training took place in the pool, on my bike trainer, and outside on the road. Out of curiosity and to explore a company discount, I wandered into a local gym (part of a large chain) -- and was immediately bowled over. It was dark. It smelled like anxiety and low self-esteem, mixed with an aroma suggesting something had crawled under a treadmill and died. Needless to say I wasn't in a hurry to sign up.

Following a foot injury at the end of last season, I started back to running slowly and carefully. I got a pair of super-cushioned Hokas -- which, while comfortable, feel Teflon-coated on anything but bare pavement. The general cold, icy, lumpy, snowy state of things outside had me reconsidering my dislike of treadmills. As it turns out, the new city complex where I swim not only has a beautiful pool, but a pretty sweet workout room as well. It took me probably 6 months to even go upstairs to check it out, but once I did, I quickly figured out that it was pretty convenient to hop on the treadmill for a 30 minute run before going down for a swim.

The last time I used a gym with any regularity was as an undergraduate. I won't date myself by telling you when that was, but it was sometime after people stopped recording their heart rate by chiseling it into a stone tablet. There were no iPhones. If we wanted to talk to someone, we picked up a tin can with a string attached. So I guess it's no surprise that when I started going back to the gym, I found some strange and unfamiliar machines. Back in the day, my preferred torture devices were the ergometer and the Nordik-Trak ski machine (remember those?). 

Here's one that I saw out out of the corner of my eye, from the relative safety of the treadmill. I had never seen anyone on this machine. Or even near it, truth be told. But as luck would have it, I was wrapping up a run at the very moment a staff member was giving a couple of new members a tour that included the "Jacob's Ladder". After some quick instructions, I jumped on to give it a try. Think of climbing a ladder -- that moves under you quicker and and quicker as you climb higher. Fun, right?

"Jacob's Ladder"... The name sounds both fun, and kind of terrifying

This next little number, with no motor whatsoever, made me feel ready to die after about 10 minutes. Talk about efficient! Torturous AND environmentally friendly... The whole package. 

"The Curve" -- burn calories just by looking at it

In summary, my recipe for learning to love that trip to the gym is to find a weird, obscure piece of equipment and have at 'er. This might be a good time for me to also revisit my post on injury prevention...

The winter aahhhs

Last year I did a lot of running outside in the winter -- I think I hit a treadmill only twice, in hotels while out of town. This year, I've been a little grumpier about braving the biting windchill, the icy sidewalks, the slush-filled salty road shoulders. I just can't get that into it. Even Siri isn't cheerful about this time of year.

4 out of 5 iPhones agree -- this weather is uncomfortable.
The 5th one was unavailable for comment, having shut down in the cold.

Enter snowshoe running! I picked up a pair yesterday and took them for an inaugural jaunt today. I'll share a few dos and don'ts I ran across (sort of pun intended).

Dos:

• Know what you're in for and how that relates to what you want in a set of snowshoes. I was informed that, in a run-specific snowshoe, I wouldn't have much in the way of flotation on deep snow. When I looked kind of puzzled at this (as snowshoers go, I'm on the smaller end of the spectrum), he said "Oh, you'll be running on packed snow trails." -- "Wait... if I'm running on packed trails, why am I wearing snowshoes?" -- "Because in snowshoe running events you need to have something snowshoe-y on your feet." Alright! Sold!
• If you're going to forget your neckwarmer when it's minus 20-something, at least be that person who always has extra stuff in the car for their kids. See adorable scarf below.

Top Gear fans, I confess. I am the Stig.

• Ideally, time your first foray into the woods to coincide with a paramedic training exercise.

Just in case

How convenient!

•  Get a set of short gaiters to keep the snow out of your shoes. I can't believe that even after losing the trail and tromping all over the place I didn't get a single flake of snow down my runners.

And now for a few Don'ts: 

• Don't leave your running shoes in the car when it's minus a zillion. The 5 minutes between the office and the trail head are not enough time for them to warm up, even with the footwell heater running full blast. Ask me how I know this.
• Ditto your snowshoes. The flexible rubbery parts of the bindings become considerably less flexible when they're frozen.
• Don't tell yourself you'll figure out how the bindings work, and which snowshoe goes on which foot, when you get to the trail. It's not rocket science, but it involves precious minutes where your hands would really rather be in your mittens.

Hmmm... in theory, my foot goes in there somewhere

Success!

So how was the actual experience of running in showshoes? So. Much. Fun. I think the last time I walked in snowshoes I did kind of a duck-waddle and still managed to step on myself. Today I didn't try to go for any kind of speed, but it was surprisingly easy to just boogie along at a jog, without having to worry about slipping or hitting a weird rut. The teeth under the snowshoe gripped the packed surface, and the wide platform lets you bound through the trees without worrying about rolling an ankle. Joy!

Who on earth would want to run on a gross, salty road when you could do this instead??

Frozen bog in the South March Highlands near my office

Since it was my first time out, I experimented a little with different surfaces. As expected, my running snowshoes didn't float on top of fluffy powder. But even so, it beats walking in boots and ending up calf-deep.

For floating in soft powder, not so much...

But for breaking a trail on the crunchy stuff when you get lost? Totally useful!

You can really go anywhere you want in these things. At one point the path I was following petered out, and I scrambled up a short hill to rejoin the main trail. Somehow the trees managed to buffer the cold wind while still letting the sun shine through.

Winter aahhhs

Oh, and I did eventually find the police/paramedics on their training exercise...

I think they got hungry and were roasting their weakest member...