Writing Exercise: Affluenza

Writing Club

April 19, 2016

This prompt was one word: Affluenza.  Write something about "affluenza."  Affluence + Influenza. Of course, the description leans itself to a darker bent.  It was a word I had never heard of before and I wasn't alone.  There's more to the definition, but our group tended towards the meaning as very privileged individuals with wealthy backgrounds struggling to differentiate between right and wrong due to their upbringing.  

Writing Prompt:  "Affluenza"
Time allotted: 20 minutes

-lack of motivation

-feelings of guilt  (not so much with Carl in the story below)

-sense of isolation 
(some of the descriptors that came out of our group's discussion of the word)

A cool chill made Carl open just one eye to confirm that it was Connie, step mommy number 5, barely a decade older than he was, standing in the way of the sun.  Carl lazily waved a hand for her to move to the left.  Her shadow remained. 

“Aren’t you suppose to be in class right now?”  Her perky voice irritated the heck out of him. 

“I’m suspended.  So nope.”  Carl pulled his ball cap over his face, hoping she would walk away.  Her annoying shadow remained. 

What his dad had seen in this one, he had no idea.  She wasn’t even a red head.  All but Carl’s mom had been a red head.  And the worst of it was this one had been Dad’s nurse.  Connie was always in his face nattering about something.  She got Dad back on his feet after his heart attack and playing tennis and eating nothing but lettuce.

If it was going to be a stand off, Connie would be standing all day.  She wasn’t going to change the way Carl rolled.  He had no plans on moving except maybe to flip over and and get a decent tan on his back.

After 5 minutes, he felt the warmth of the sun return.  Good.  There was the creak of the tap.  Connie was going to water her stupid roses.  Why she insisted on doing it herself, Carl couldn’t understand.  They paid a gardener for that. 

A cold spray of water pelted him out of the blue.  Connie had turned the hose on him.  “You are going to get up and do something.” She squeaked like the faucet.  “Go study for god’s sake.  Go make use of that new computer you insisted on and get your project done.” 

Something snapped inside Carl’s head.  He leapt out of the lawn chair and shoved his nuisance into the pool, hose and all.  As he rammed her into the deep end, the hose tangled around her legs.  He almost found it humorous the way Connie was waving her arms and blubbering.  “Glub, Glub!  Swim Mermaid!”

Carl lay back down in his chair and put his cap over his face wishing Connie would just shut up.  Her flailing splashed his t-shirt.  Carl got up and dragged his chair from the pool deck to the lawn.  After a few minutes the noise had settled down.  After his nap, Carl would find out if mermaids could swim.  If not, oh well, maybe step mommy 6 would be better.

All As It Should Be -Writing Club Exercise for January 17

Writing Club Jan 17/17  

 After a bit of a hiatus due to marathon training in the fall, I finally got back to the creative craziness of our writing club.  My laptop has been a bit dusty the last while, and, I, getting rusty.  

With one little prompt and a timer, I love hearing what our group comes up with: the dark, the light and otherwise wild.  I admit, I struggled with this one.  It started with a clear idea of a character: a prissy little girl complete with curls and a ridiculously ruffled dress and the line I wanted to end with.  It took me another hour at home to rough this one out.  I am a bit rusty.  Well, back at it. More writing and reading makes a better writer, the brain is a muscle too.  (Well, not really, but you get the point.)

The prompt we were given: “I told him not to come back too.”

Time allotted: 30 minutes

All As It Should Be

“Green and yellow, I want pea green and sunshine yellow.  I am sure of it,” a three and a half foot Rosa chirped with delight.  Dressed in layers of bright red chiffon and black tulle, her floor length gown swished as she waltzed into the room. 

The man in the top hat and purple tux stared down at the carrot-top child through his pince-nez.  “Why?”  He was startled by her declaration, but had the grace to reply. “Really, I should think that you don’t want any.  A box is a box.  What if they’re empty?  It’s what’s inside that counts.”  

He spoke with an Irish accent and it made the child scowl even though she knew he was Irish.  “Well, I don’t care!” Rosa announced.  “I want what I want.  Besides, no one knows what’s inside them anyways!”

Peering down at her, he exclaimed, “Why, the giver does!  Someone had to have packed each one and wrapped them up with such care.”

Pinks, bright blues, shiny silver, gold, green, all sorts of sizes and all tied up in satin ribbons.  All stacked precariously box on box twenty-two high.  The entire side of the ballroom was covered in a trove of boxes that would make a Princess jealous.  Each with the promise of certain surprise.  What wonders could they possibly contain? 

Rosa stomped her feet restlessly and crossed her pudgy arms.  One short fuse away from a full-on tantrum.  All it would take was a spark and she would blow like Mount St. Helena.  The man in the top hat turned away, better not to face the explosion for then he could claim ignorance.  Taking off his hat in order to fully view the piles of boxes, he began to point and count. 

This made Rosa want to tromp on his toes.  It wasn’t right he choose ignore her, especially when he knew who she was.  It wasn’t fair that he was tall enough that he could reach the top of the pile without a stool.  How dare he stand taller than she, the Queen? 

But the man with the top hat continued to count, remarking to himself that it was a larger sum than last year by three. 

Two boys dressed in matching plaid knickers ran in the door, bumping into the fuming girl, nearly knocking her over.  One lost his beret in the scramble.  Queen Rosa’s ice blue eyes followed them as the rowdy pair chased each other around the large oak table, nearly catching the white tablecloth. 

Queen Rosa wondered if they could take the tablecloth along with them and leave the china tea set as it were.  Probably not.  They weren’t magicians, only magicians could accomplish a feat like that.  Queen Rosa could imagine the sight.  The teapot was boiling over, spilling everywhere, smashing to the ground and all the treats tumbling after it.  Then they’d lose their place on the list.  Get put to the end.  That would suit them well for shoving her.  Their behavior wasn’t proper. 

Next the two boys, the jack and knave, a bit black and blue or better yet to be called Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum, slid out across the marble floor and rolled to take a seat in the middle of the room to wait for a gift.  They joked excitedly with each other in expectation, joked and jabbed and then broke out into wrestling over who would be first.  

In a moment, the tussle was over and they were back to joking, eyeing up the little boy in plain gray standing outside the window.  He waved to them and they waved back.

The little Queen had noticed him too, but couldn’t grant an outsider more than a five second glance.  She had found her calm and eruption was no longer imminent. “He’s not invited.  There are no shades of grey permitted.  I told him not to come back too, even if he paints himself a different colour.  It won’t matter.  All it would do was flake off.  It wouldn’t be fair.”  She waved her hand and the curtain was drawn and in her mind the boy ceased to exist.

As the clock struck twelve, the marshal entered the room and with a trumpet and a long line of finery.  People large and small entered in velvets and taffeta to sit at the oak table. There had to be observers or it wouldn’t be a proper spectacle, and of course photos.  Always photos.  All decorum must be followed.

Queen Rosa was placed in the golden seat beside the man with the top hat.  The top hat now properly removed to rest on a coatrack by those Queen Rosa could not see.  The man sipped his tea too loudly in her opinion.  He should drink quietly and yet with all the eyes around the table, Rosa didn’t mention it.  Not with the assembly present and presiding.

The boys sat at the foot of the table as they should be.  Below her.  She wasn’t a rule breaker.

            As the hands on the clock reached opposite ends, the marshal brought out a small bell.  With a ring, presents were brought around to all at the table, big and small.  Before Queen Rosa was placed a one elegant pea green box with a sunshine yellow ribbon.  Ripping off the paper, Queen Rosa gave a long sigh.  Inside the box rested a small silver spoon.

The man in the top hat rose to speak and was greeted with genteel applause.  With a bow, he gladly pronounced, “Entitlement, a gift worthy of the giver, I dare say, or rather the receiver.  Perhaps they’re one and the same.”

Ironman Mont Tremblant 2016

September 23, 2016

3.8 km swim, 180 km bike, 42.2 km run.  August 21, 2016 in beautiful Quebec.

So this account of my Ironman race in Mont Tremblant will be one of soften edges as I haven't written it the day afterwards.  It is written with fond memories of that rainy day.  I have to say, there are advantages to naiveté.  I didn't this race lightly.  I knew what I signed up for.  For good or for ill, I only had time to ponder my decision for 6 weeks (sign up until race) as I rode the long bike rides, one being 7 hours, and I was told I couldn't miss one ride.  (I am relatively new to cycling and went from riding 3 hour rides to 4.5 to 7 hours.)  It's not an all out effort for the level of competition I was trying to achieve.  I am just a rookie jumping in, so I had no illusions of a smoking fast race day.

Since I have nothing to compare this race to, I am pretty content with my accomplishment.  It rained for most of the race.  Really rained.  Conditions were less than ideal, at times a little nerve wracking on the bike. There was a big crash just before the 90 km mark along some roller coaster hills.  Thankfully I didn't see it.  Course officials were warning everyone to slow down.  I just saw the pile of bikes cleared to the side of the course and hoped that whoever was on them weren't hurt too badly.  

I have never rode 180 km in a rain storm before, let alone up and down long hills.  Did I say long?  I mean really long hills that grow bigger when you do the second loop of the course.  My bike stayed together and so did I.  I am pretty happy to say I finished in 13 hours and 45 minutes.

So the opinion held by those I know who have raced this race before is that the swim this year was wavy.  As this was my first IM swim, I can say I didn't mind the waves.  I just rolled with it.  Actually, I thoroughly enjoyed the swim.  Of course, it's something I love to do anyways. I get in the zone and fall in love with the rhythm of open water swimming and have to remind myself, oh yeah, after I swim 3.8 km, I have to bike 180 km after this and run a marathon.  It's the bike part that gets me.  I know it's going to be long.  Period.

It's a little chaotic in the race amid the sea of athletes making their way through the water and being a 39 years young woman, I started in the second last wave.  So I know I will have to weave through other swimmers.  Thankfully, I was told by some wise athletes to stay to the near side of the buoys going out where there is less congestion because you're on the edge of the sea of swimmers.

When you come out of the water, you go to a stripper.  Hey! A wetsuit stripper.  They pull off your wetsuit for you instead of trying to wrestle out of your wetsuit yourself.  Best idea ever as long as they don't puncture your wetsuit.  Mine were great! They had me out of my wetsuit and running to the changing tent for my bike stuff in no time.

So I took some pretty heavy teasing for my transition times because I hurried up to get to the tent and stop and chat.  But hey, I was doing this race to finish, not to make any land speed records and it is important to me to thank volunteers and maybe make their day better.  My first transition was close to 20 minutes.  I had a nice chat with a couple of the volunteers and tried to psych myself up for the bike ride.  I stopped at a few aid stations too on the bike to chat, thank volunteers (without them there's no race), to get hydration because I am not so good at catching the water bottles as I ride by (rookie remember), eat some snacks and to visit a porta-potty (important business).  Slow and steady finishes the race.  No muscle cramps for me.  I did an excellent job making sure I took in enough food and fluids to get through the bike ride.  My second transition was a little shorter.  I was just relieved to be off the bike!  I took my time to be sure I had all my gear and nutrition that I planned on using for the run.

The marathon was what I expected.  A whole lot of running with one foot in front of the other.  I did have some walk breaks after the first 10 km because I started to have the sensation I was floating away.  Low blood sugar.  I drank but didn't eat anything in the first 10 km.  Another rookie mistake.  I wouldn't normally eat anything in the first 10km of a running race and I thought I did an excellent job of eating and drinking during the bike portion of the race and was feeling pretty good going into the run.  I had to walk for a km or so and talked to some seasoned athletes to get some advice and ate the best granola bar of my life! It anchored me back down to earth so I could keep shuffling along.

Did you know they serve chicken broth during the marathon portion a IM?  It tastes pretty good for the while and then for some reason for me anyways, it lost it's appeal.

One of the things I enjoyed most was the comradery of the race.  At that length of race, the people I was with are in it to finish.  It's about reaching the end and hearing those words "You are an Ironman!".  Why not enjoy the other people racing with you and share some good conversation?  I met some cool people.  I enjoy the banter.  I hope Joe's last 7 km went well and the lady who did IM Florida enjoyed of her race.  Everyone is smiling as you're coming in the chute.  The crowd is cheering.  I crossed the line and realized how exhausted I was.

I have never been so glad to be done a race.  Check it off the bucket list.  It was a wonderful experience and now I can say "I am an Ironman!"  At this point, I don't know for sure if there will be another full ironman in my future, maybe 2018 or beyond.  I love participating in the half ironman and shorter distances.  It's more family friendly as far as training time required.  My wonderful husband supported me all along the way to this race and helped make it possible for me to participate in.  He was there at every loop in the Tremblant village to cheer me on and give me much needed encouragement. ( I love you Jeremie!)

And a big thank you to my friend, training buddy, encourager, enabler and unofficial coach, Daphne Wilkenson!  You got me ready to complete this race in 6 weeks and put up with all my nervous questions.  And to Nelson Dawley for putting up with Jeremie and I for almost a week in the village!  We had a great time!  We couldn't have had this experience without you both!

My Little Superhero

Dec 19, 2016

Cody is someone worth getting to know.  I am proud of my boy.  In my son's struggles, I see one of the strongest people I know.  Cody may not be an athlete.  He may be the last one picked according to athletic prowess, but not when it comes to heart.  He'll give it all he's got.  He doesn't give up.  I don't think he knows how do otherwise.  

From the start Cody has had to fight to be here.  He was born at 36 weeks.  That was as long as I could carry him.  Just a little guy at 5 lb. 1/2 oz. because of the meds I had to take for my crazy blood pressure.  Two days after he was born, his bowel perforated due to long segment Hirschsprung's Disease.  His large intestine was there, it just didn't function.  (Another story for another day...needless to say, full of it's own miracles and a whole lot of wonderful people who have helped my boy.  He is meant to be here even though his path has been a little bumpy.)

His health for the first couple years was a roller coaster of running to the hospital.  Sometimes it takes a whole lot of physio just to do "normal" kid things.  We made it fun.  We celebrated his own special milestones like hopping on one foot.  People might have thought us weird parents for cheering for a 5 year old who was swinging on the playground and smiling instead of being terrified.  It meant he had the abdominal strength to control his torso with the motion of the swing.  I have to believe anyone watching would be cheering too if they knew his story.  He had abdominal surgery at 6 months and had to learn to sit again.  

He's had digestive issues and eating issues.  We still struggle with getting him to eat these days, but for other reasons.  His meds don't help his appetite.

A year ago near the end of September, he started refusing to stand on his feet because they hurt.  My little cross-country runner was crawling across the floor at home.  That was when the arthritis started, but we didn't know it until a couple months later and some medical tests later.  I took a lot of flack from people saying he just wanted to stay home from school, that this was life and for him, it was going to be hard, but he needed to be in class.  He took a lot of flack for not wanting to do things.  As a mom, I knew there was something more going on with my boy.  I am a gentle person, some well meaning people suggested that I should be tougher with him.  

This is where I will add, they did it in love, but sometimes we hurt those we love even with the best of intentions.  I am a patient person, but it didn't mean that the well meaning suggestions didn't sting a bit.  I am a proud mother of 2 kids and my children are my treasure.  I am not a pushover. I am doing the best I can with my boy and I live with him.  I see the pain he goes through and I see the little boy antics.  He is like any other child trying to get away with things, seeing how far he can push.  I have walked with him through the tough stuff and been there when there is nothing more to do than hold him and try to be a comfort when life hurts.  All I trying to say here is all those of you blessed with healthy children, be gentle with your words and parental advice. Parenting a child with health issues whole other challenge.

My Cody loves cross country and he was so excited to run the Mickey Mile in Florida this January, he had just run a great cross country season at home before the arthritis hit and it hit hard.  My husband and I debated whether we were going to let him participate in the Mile.  This vacation we had to rent a wheelchair after the first day because the walking all day was too much.  Cody insisted he could do it.  He had done the mile the year before in a little over 9 minutes.  This year though, after 200 metres, we had to walk.  It was a struggle.  He was crying and leaning on me for a good chunk of it.  In that moment, the reality of his health and what had changed hit home.  It took a few months because he is such a tough kid with all that he had faced before that.  A volunteer asked him if he needed to stop.  He didn't want to.  It was heartbreaking for him.  He didn't quit though, Cody and I crossed the finish line together.  I was both extremely proud and sad for him.  Cross-country is his favourite sport. 

After our vacation, we have seen some wonderful doctors and with some meds, Cody was able to participate in cross-country this season and run his best season ever with the warm September we had.  His goal was to come in 100th at regionals and he came in 81st.  I got to watch both his races, bursting with joy and pride because I know his story.  It was beautiful.  Some days we can run and others we have to walk.  And other days we wonder if we might have to find a new sport.  

Since this fall and the return of the cold, his arthritis has flared up again.  He stopped playing outside again.  We're in the thick of battle.  We have some good doctors and we've had to switch medicines and sometimes my boy has no energy.  I see in him a different strength, a strength of spirit and I see a person of strong faith.  He doesn't give up, even though some days he is too tired and nauseated to go to school.  We're still in transition between medications and despite side effects, he has been able to play soccer with his friends at recess so here's to hoping this flare up will fade.  We're learning how to work with his new "normal" right now.  Part of Cody's path is finding creative new ways of getting things done with the energy level/joint issues he has that day.  iPads are awesome and equal less printing.  His hands get tired easily.  He needs help carrying things because most things are too heavy for him to lift when he is sore and he's still learning to speak up when things hurt instead of struggling through.

Sometimes Cody amazes me with his perspective on life.  With what he has gone through, there are little windows of light where he shares wisdom beyond his years.  We have shared many special days of taking the lemons and making lemonade by reading books together, watching epic Lord of the Rings and StarWars marathons.  We are both huge fans.  I have made him an Obi Wan costume, a Legolas costume and a Finn/Poe jacket.  He helps decide the details he wants.  I love his quirks.  It had to be the Legolas costume from the Hobbit movie because the jacket is better.

I am naturally a very strong, athletic person, but I am also cancer survivor, so I know to a certain extent what it means to feel utterly exhausted and weak.  I have had to walk and not run.  I had my times when I had to get up, eat breakfast and then go back to bed and sleep until noon so that my body could heal.  At the same time, I knew if I rested, my strength would return.  He is one of my driving forces when I run.

With my son, I see the fatigue and I can't tell him it will go away.  Instead, I give him a hug, try to encourage him and pray with him for healing because I know his juvenile idiopathic arthritis could go into remission again.  It may not and he will need heroic strength to get through.  It may be something Cody walks through for the rest of his life like his surgically altered digestive tract and the issues that come with it.  Either way, I am going to be there for him and he needs to move forward and make the best of life that he can.  I see the moments when his health wears on him and weighs heavy, when he tries to hide his health issues from his friends because he doesn't want to seem weak in front of them.  If only they could see what I see.  Maybe, he will feel comfortable telling them soon.  They're good kids, but they're kids.  And this I leave up to Cody.  He is dealing with it and he knows his teachers and I are there for him.  Thank God for good teachers!  His school has been great about his health.

Cody has a quiet internal strength.  He is my 11 year old Superhero/Elf Warrior/Jedi. (The Force is strong in this one!  Sorry, I couldn't help myself.)   I write this today as much for myself as anyone out there reading this because it's better to let things out than hold them in.  I am learning how to parent a child with JI Arthritis and it is a process too.   God Bless!

Too Hot for both Tires

Aug 8 2016

It's taper time.  If I get anything from this race, one of the things I hope I learn is confidence.  If someone would have told me that I could run 46 km and then cycle 192 km a couple days later, I would have likely laughed even a month ago.  I've done a few 4 km plus swims.  There's nothing like a good friend to get you do something crazy outside your comfort zone.

Now the big stuff is done until the big day.  I hope I can do this taper right.

My last big bike ride was halted with a bang!  It was to be a 4.5 hr ride, but sometimes workouts just don't turn out the way you expect.  I knew I couldn't do the ride in one stint like I usually would because I had to take my son to his first day of physio midday.   I got in a little over an hour with my friend in the early morning while it was still cool.

Last Thursday was a hot one! As I set into my ride to finish the 3.5 hours left, I was taking it easy.  It's not suppose to be an all out effort.  Long rides are aerobic, a nice continuous pace that is comfortable to sustain.  Other than the top of my head feeling like it was roasting in my black helmet, I was enjoying myself.

A little over an hour in, just when I was thinking that I was getting a good ways from home and should turn around, my tire made a little popping sound and then my ride got rough.  Sure enough, I had a flat.  Undeterred, I pulled out my spare tube and got to fixing my tire.  Just when I was feeling proud of myself for my self sufficient bike repair, my other tire blew up. With the sound, birds in the fallow field beside me took to flight.  I pretty nearly jumped out of my skin too.  It was as loud as a shot gun blast.  Just being on the side of the road in the sun was enough to take out my other tire.  The second blowout deflated my chances at getting home under my own power.  I had only brought one tube.  One hour away from home by bicycle would be a long, long walk, much too long in cycling shoes.

Thankfully, I had my cell phone and could call for a rescue ride from a friend.  As I walked my bike towards the nearest tree in sight to sit and wait in some shade, a long stream of beach traffic passed by along the road.  A few drivers, noticing my flat tire, even stopped and offered me a ride which I politely declined.  I got home in one piece.  So ended my very, very warm last long ride before the race.
Sometimes, you just have to know when to let things go.  I guess it's only going to be two bike rides over 90 km before my Ironman race.  What will be, will be.  My goal is to finish the race.

Now I can say I am a Dirty Girl, my first ultra race

July 25, 2016

Dirty Girls Run

So Saturday, I did something new.  I hopped in our truck and drove to Mansfield to do my first 6 hour race.  6 hours of running around a 8 km trail through the forest.  Of course, not without consulting a couple friends for advice as to what level I should participate at.  I'm definitely a novice when it comes to ultra sports.  Part of me wanted to go for the gusto and sign up for the 24 hr race.  It's always good to talk to someone who knows you well in a decision like this and get brought back down to earth.  32 km wasn't big enough and I had no idea of what I was getting into so 12 hr and 24 got left for another day, another time.  6 hrs was the scary, but not too scary distance.  My jumping off point.

All kinds of questions were running through my mind.  The obvious, can I actually run for 6 hours?  I've run a few marathons, but on paved roads.  This is the bush with roots and undulating terrain. My sprained ankle had mostly healed out.  The goal of the day was to still be moving along at the end sure-footedly as the hourglass ran out.

As we gathered at the start, I noticed it was different from any road race I've done.  For one, everyone seems to know everyone and they're on a first name basis.  The first couple laps were filled with great conversation as we trotted along.  I love hearing other people's stories.  Many people camped on site the night before and will be spending the night again.

Not just that, it's a small pool of people rushing in to sign up for these races.  There's an ultra community.  Not everyone wants to run for hours along the same loop of trail up and down, over tree roots and even climbing over a fallen tree.  I'm thinking maybe I might be one of them eventually.  I love the forest.  I love the challenge of finding the best footing, planning my steps.  It's much more interesting than plodding along on the pavement.  (Not that I don't enjoy road races.)

I didn't tread into this lightly.  Being a cancer survivor, I cherish my health.  Part of the appeal of running is the burn, heart and lungs working at optimum - I am alive.  I'll push it in a race, but not too much.  I love to play hard, I love a challenge, but at the end of the day I want to go home to my family.  This is only recreation and I need to be able to be there for my kids.

So around and round I went along the route, sipping water from my birthday gift camelback.   The conversation trickled away as did the people continuing on at a run.  Most people have begun to walk.  They're racing longer than I am I tell myself.  I still feel like running.  I'm actually not that tired.  Pace yourself, drink, stop for ice, water, heed, pretzels, potato at the two aid stations. Hydrate, electrolytes.  One salt tab per loop.  Thank the volunteers, for the ice, water, heed and potatoes.  My eyes are burning when I stop to refill because I start sweating.   Why is that?  It's not bad when I'm on the move, but when I stop I sweat like crazy.

Thankfully most of the course in shade because it's getting warmer.  I'm doing this and I feel good.  With all the running midsummer day in preparation for the ironman race, it's not bad.  Maybe I'll get to my 5th lap soon.  (My goal was 40 km.  I've run a few marathons and 40 km was reasonable considering that I have an ironman race I am training for, my "A" race.)  Keep it slow and steady, don't race it.  Then I reach the 5th lap and think, 4 more km.  All I need to do is make it to the 4 km aid station and I am done.  When the clock runs out I have to be at one of the check points spaced every 2 km for it to count.  I get to the 4 km mark and get logged in, but encourage me to make use of the last 15 minutes and try for the 6km mark.  2km more finishing on a very long, steep climb.  I reach the hill and run it.   I almost made it. 100m or so to go, my time ran out, but I kept going.  46 km in 6:01.  The longest run I've done in my life.  Even thought the last 2 km didn't count, I am on cloud nine.  

A common response I get when I've told people about my experience is, "Are you crazy?  Who wants to run for 6 hours?"  I do, and next time maybe I'll race it and try for 50 plus km or maybe I'll try a 12 hour race next year.

Ironman Dreams

July 18, 2016

So I find myself wondering how I ended up signing up for a full ironman.  I guess I should I still can't believe I worked up the courage to hit the enter button after filling out the electronic form.   A bucket list race entailing 3.8 km Swim, 180 Km bike and 42.2 km run.

However, as much as my family may believe, the decision to sign up wasn't spontaneous.  I'm a thinker and I don't do spontaneous well.  I have to analyze and weigh out probabilities, ponder outcomes.  For a stay at home mom, an ironman race is kind of pricy.  Can I actually finish this epic race?  I admit I had some good persuasion from some of of my fellow triclub members.

The swim doesn't scare me.  I kind of love swimming, which in the end totally was used to convince me to agree that maybe I could tackle a full ironman.  My friend is doing the same race and as part of her training, was doing a long swim and since it's never a good idea to swim in open water alone, no matter how good a swimmer you are, I figured I would try to do the whole distance.  Since I was getting ready for a half Ironman, I had already been swimming 3 km in the pool.

So we went one loop around the lake: 1800 m.  Easy Peezy.  No problem.  Then we started the second loop and all kinds of crazy thoughts rushed through my head. My anxiety was messing with my efficiency and breathing, not good on a long swim.  Did I bite off more than I could chew? What if I cramp? What if I can't make it to shore?

I should mention that I was wearing a wetsuit and I wasn't particularly tired at that point at all. Just really fearful about my own abilities.  So I thought to myself, wetsuits make a person pretty buoyant, so what exactly do I need to do to stay afloat anyways? All I had to do was a little doggy paddle with my hands.  After that I calmed down and ended up swimming two and a half times around the lake.  And I enjoyed it!  And then there's that sudden realization I can do the swim portion of the Ironman, I just swam 4.5 km, the race is only 3.8 km.

Honestly, it's the bike portion that scares me.  180 km on a bike is a long, long time.  Up until this spring I would have thought it darn near impossible for me.  In fact, I thought I thought I was just a terrible cyclist.  I could barely stand riding my old bike for 2 hours as much as I loved cycling.  When I mentioned it to people, they said I needed to toughen up, more time in the saddle.  Toughen up!  I can tell you not being able to stand straight after a short bike ride is not normal, it's not being whimsy.  There really was something wrong.  I had the wrong bike for me.

My friend had just got a new bike and suggested that I go for a bike fit.  Hindsight really is 20/20, I can tell you bike fit is everything! Thanks to Heath Cockburn and the Eleven, I have a bike that fits my build and the difference is night and day.  I went from a large frame bike to a small frame bike.  No more excruciating back pain. I can do a tight turn without feeling like I am going to fall over. I feel safe getting into aero position on my bike.

The longest ride I've done 103 km up until last week.  My friend got me through my first 145 km ride.  It's all about taking it easy, going long and steady strong, not all out.

The run will be what it will be, one foot in front of the other and moving forward.  I have run since I was young and I love it.  I've done Disney's Goofy challenge a couple times now (1/2 marathon one day, followed by a marathon the next.) and I know what's like to run on tired legs, one kilometre at a time. Don't take it all in at once.  As long as I can keep going, I'll get there.  The mantra I have held to the last couple years while participating in races and dealing with my sore back.  (So glad to have my new bike, it's like night and day.  My back is happy now.)

I've decided to write about the experience since the Ironman may be a one time occurrence. Not that I likely won't want to do a repeat performance, I like half ironman races and I'll probably want to do another one.  That's just how it goes.  The half marathon was on the bucket list and then it became the marathon and why not do the Goofy race and do a half marathon one day and a marathon the next? Then it became a half ironman and not just any half ironman, I did Muskoka with it's crazy tough bike course twice.  The bucket list evolves as I find out what's out there in this big wide world.  Up next this summer is my first ultra race.  It's human nature to push boundaries, but I like to do it reasonably, lower risk, proceed with caution, well considered and trained for.

It's the time it takes to train that has me wondering whether I will do one again.  With 2 children and a busy household, time is a precious commodity.  It was a challenge to squeeze in a 5 3/4 bike ride followed by a 45 minute run and the next the long bike ride is 7 hours and hopefully 180km plus!  Not to mention, it's fun just to relax in summer and play with my kids.  I want them to enjoy their summer too and I still want those blissful beach days with them. It's a balancing act between mommy time and finding someone to spend time with them while I am working out so I can be an athlete too. (Big shout out to my awesome husband, Nana and Papa and Grandma and Grandpa)  

It takes a huge support team to get ready for an ironman race and it helps to be part of a really great triathlon club.  There's nothing like sweating out some speed training on the track in 30 degree weather or getting in a 30 km run with a friend.  Camaraderie, triathlon may be an individual sport, but it's definitely easier to get to the finish line when you know that you have friends experiencing the same race somewhere on the course or waiting at the finish line cheering you on.