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.

Squidy Sea Monster-One Tall Tale Freshly Served: Writing Exercise

Mar 4, 2014

Writing Prompt:  “Being inexperienced and having just made….” 
15 minutes

“Why would they ever have let Sandy at the pole first?  Clark fully deserved to fill that seat.  He’d have known what bait to use.  Being inexperienced and having just made the catch of the year, of the decade really, Sandy had no idea how to reel it in.  All I heard was big splash.  I was at the cooler getting a cold one when it all happened, Officer, huh, Delaware. 

            When I turned around, ole Sandman was being pulled through the water like rag doll.  The captain was no help.  The old salt’s only thought when he saw the giant squid was to put the throttle down.  All that served was to tick off the beast, as it got a jet of water in its nicotine yellow eyes.   Squinting and glaring something horrid, it wrapped its titanic tentacles round the yacht pulling it in 'twain.  The severed ship went down fast, she did.  Paul and Martin managed cut loose the diving dingy and scramble into it paddling away like mad men.  I hollered after them, but to no avail.  I just held fast to the beer cooler cause I know styrofoam floats.  That’s how you found me bobbing there, sir, by the way.  I guess the beast doesn’t like his meat well marinated. 

Last I saw of Sandy he was pulled into the brink.  The Captain, well, he’d be a guest of Davy Jones.  He went down with his ship saluting." 

Dark Water

Feb 9, 2016

Writing Prompt: Darkness- Write a story inspired by what you can’t see. 
20 minutes.

The temperature had to be at least 32 degrees and after three hours of gardening, Beth found herself staring down into the shadowy depths at the dock.  

Beth hated even putting her toes in the lake for fear of what might take a quick nibble.  What if someone had dumped their pet pirana?  Could it survive under the ice in the winter?  What if it was lurking there just under the boards waiting to grab her toes?  Jake would laugh and tell her she was ridiculous if she spoke her fear out loud.  Perhaps it was due to the shark week marathons Jake had lost himself to binge watching last week.  He, the self-proclaimed shark aficionado, swore up and down they lived on a land locked lake.  Nothing large and carnivorous could eek itself in through underground springs.

Joining her at the water side and elbowed Beth in the ribs.  “There are no bull sharks,” he teased.  “Why wouldn’t you jump right in, are you afraid of the biddy minnows?”

Beth knew she was being silly, but staring into the dark water, she saw something.  A dash of silver, the flick of a fin, something living and that something likely had teeth.  Big ones.  Do pike bite?

Maybe it was the way the slimy seaweed, as she passionately called it, and the way it waved over the hidden knee deep discustingly squishy muck in a tempting momentary reveal of any creepy crawly creatures just waiting to bite the unwary wader.  Nope, the water would feel wonderful, but Beth couldn’t do it.  She lost her nerve.  

After a minute or two of taunting and tugging at her hand, Jake wriggled out of his t-shirt, threw off his sneakers and socks and leapt with a shout of glee into the lake alone.  Beth watched as he set off across the lake, smooth strokes carrying him out to the middle in a couple of minutes.  He paused for a moment to look back at her with a big grin and waved.  

            Sweat ran down Beth's face.  It was so bloody hot!  She sunk down in her purple Muskoka chair, sulking, prepared to bake in the sun and watch Jake swim laps only to leap up after the chair roasted her seat. 

Forget it.  It was do or die, Beth plummeted into the blue embrace with a sploosh.  

That was when she heard Jake screech! 

Your Move: Writing Prompt

May 3, 2016

Writing Club

Writing Prompt: "Your Move"   ( Yep, that's all we got!  See what you get in 20 minutes of writing.  It led to some pretty great stories in group.  Just jot down whatever comes to mind.)

The first thing Toby noticed upon reaching the doorway was the void of the room itself.  Painted a drab shade of gray and the concrete floor a variation of the same, her eyes made a quick round of the space.  Completely empty.  Where had the white rabbit gone? Had she only imagined it?  Surely as she drew breath, she’d seen it scamper around the corner, down the hall to dart into the room.  Curiously she set after it, in hopes of scooping it up so she could stuff it back down the top hat Harold had left on the bench centre stage.

“Look up!,” Toby heard.  Following the voice, Toby’s gaze rose.  There in the corner of the ceiling sat a simple wooden stool.  And tucked away underneath hid the white rabbit.  His albino pink eyes peered down at her.  Or did he look up at her.  Was she up or down?  With her confusion, Toby suddenly felt dizzy and stumbled forward into the space.  Then she was tumbling towards the ceiling or was it the floor.  
It had to have been that tall drink of water Harold had passed her just before his trick back fired and he sent her on this wild goose chase.  And now up was down and down was up and she was scraping herself off the ceiling.  
The rabbit, startled at her sudden arrival, scurried out from under the stool across the floor/ceiling just out of reach where Toby lay.  Looking back over to her as it reached the doorway, it leapt over the door frame and left the room.  Trembling on the floor, or was it the floor, Toby watched the white ball of fur hop down the dark hallway to disappear into inky black.  
Pulling herself to stand on shaky legs, she slowly rose and crossed the room.  With a struggle, she pulled herself up to the door frame.   It seemed much higher than before, with a huge heave, she was up and over the lintel and suddenly falling into darkness towards a wooden surface. 

            Her hand brushed against velvet as she tumbled and she grabbed on for dear life.  Light came from the beside her and there she was with a plop head over heels, tangled in a red curtain clear as day in the spotlight.  Harold stood on the stage holding the white rabbit by the scruff.  It wiggled it’s nose contemptuously.

“It’s your move.” Harold laughed as he quickly stuffed the rabbit back in the large black top hat resting on the stage.