Lessons Were Learned

As I sit down to write my final blog, I find myself taken back to my final steps (or should I say small shuffles) along Ali'i Dr on October 10th.  Those steps were as foreign to me as triathlon was in 2005 when I had my first race at Bellwood.  Never before have I been brought to tears before crossing a finish line.  But never before have I suffered like I did in Kona.  I don't know why, on the day I wanted the performance of a lifetime, my body deserted me.  I have gone over it a million times, but I have no answers.  I also have no excuses.  My stress fracture had clearly healed and it was solid throughout the race.  I prepared properly.  I was rested and hydrated.  I will search for the "whys", but as the days pass, I realize that sometimes it simply just "is".  This is the nature of the Ironman.  So I will review my race for several reasons:

1.  As on ongoing search for the "whys".
2. As a resource for my friends who, with hard work and some luck (always some luck), will inevitably find themselves making their final journey down Ali'i Dr in the years ahead.
3.  To resolve this race in my mind and to make peace with myself.  To recognize small successes and to be thankful for the opportunity I was given.

I arrived in Kona on September 30th.  We stayed at the Sea Village and the condos there are beautiful.

View from the lanai:

There was no air conditioning, but that was necessary as air conditioning may be comfortable, but it will do very little to help you acclimate to the conditions in Kona.  I assembled my bike, and on October 1st, I was fortunate enough to have the chance to tag along with Brian Keast, Kim Fabian, and Chris Kraemer for a ride from Waikoloa to Hawi.  This was a 90km ride and the first of many eye openers I experienced regarding the IM course.  The ride went well and I had decent power throughout the ride.  I was, however, shocked by the winds, the course elevation, and the heat/humidity (HH).  I should not have been shocked.  Everyone knows that this is what Kona is all about.  I knew it would be "challenging" but not like this.  I was told by EVERYONE, go to Kona with no expectations.  Aim to finish and enjoy the experience.  Sadly, however, I am nothing if not competitive.  Despite the years of experience that was offered to me, I wanted to do much more than just finish and enjoy the experience.  MISTAKE # 1.

The following day, I met Brian, Kim and Chris at the pier/swim start.

A typical day at the pier:

 We were going to swim the race course.  No big deal I thought.  My swims this year have all been between 3800-4500m.  The majority of them over 4000m.  I am an AVERAGE swimmer, but have always considered the swim as a means to an end in the race ... to get it over with and get on the bike.  To me, the swim was always the easy part.   I don't mind the contact and I have always felt pretty strong coming out of the water.  The first 2000m were great.  However, MISTAKE # 2.  I did not use body glide or vasoline.  At all.  Skin suit plus salt water plus no lube = disaster.  At 2000m, I told Brian that the sharks were coming because my armpits were bleeding.  They were bleeding alright, and the salt water added insult to injury.  But that wasn't the worst part.  I started to feel nauseous and completely fatigued as we headed back to the pier.  On the way in I thought about drinking a beer and making milkshakes.  I was clearly dehydrated.  The water was rough, and I felt like my arms were cutting the water like butter.  By the time I staggered in to the shore, I asked Brian, "What is this course of hell you have brought me to."  A serious serious wake up call.

On day 3, I participated in the Ho'ala Training Swim.  This was an organized swim put on by Ironman.  It was timed and there was a mass start for the participants (Approx 400 of us all together). The chaffing was bad, but I knew I had to do everything I could to get used to the ocean.  Although my swim time was a disappointing 1:16, I felt much better and figured I would survive the swim on race day.

My final training session of note was my hour run in the Energy Lab.

  Now the entire run course is HH, but this Energy Lab business is not from this world.  I am not even going to attempt to put into words what I experienced that day.  But I am thankful that my friends Marlene and Daphne accompanied me, by car, and provided me with fluids every 9 minutes as was required.  Sadly, as fate would have it, I did not see the Energy Lab during the daylight hours on race day.   This was, however, a blessing in disguise.

Fast forward to October 9th.  I had now spent 9 days in Kona.  My eyes were wide open as to the challenges the race would present.  I was strong mentally and ready to race.  I honestly believed that no matter what the race threw at me, I would have the day of my life.  I was expecting to suffer, but I was also expecting a solid performance.

I met Kim and we rode down for bike check-in.  This was an experience I will never forget.  The energy at the pier was like a drug.  At that instant, I understood that I was having the opportunity of a lifetime.  No other race is like Kona.  Everyone is treated like a professional.  For every athlete, there was a volunteer to escort you into transition.  And the transition area was mind blowing.

As we walked towards the transition area, various representatives handed out shirts, bags, water bottles, etc, as a thank-you for using their equipment.  Thank-you Powertap for the gifts!!  Other reps were furiously taking stats on what bikes and components were entering transition.  It was nuts.  I knew there would be no sleep that night.  But that was fine.  I slept well on the 8th, and I am pretty sure that hardly anyone sleeps well the night before Kona.

RACE DAY

I was up at 4:00am.  No alarm clock required.  My gear was in order and I was out the door by 4:45am.  Once body marking was completed we entered transition.  The normal preparations were completed and I felt strong mentally.  The helicopters and the screaming fans certainly did not deter from the excitement.  At about 6:50am, I entered the water and swam to the swim start.  At 7:10am, we were off.  Between myself and Kim, I would comfortably say that we have participated in close to, if not more than 100 swim starts.  So when Kim later described the swim to me as a "Vicious Mosh Pit", I knew I was not delusional.  Brian had told me that the Kona swim start was aggressive, and he wasn't kidding.  For the first time ever, my goggles got kicked off my right eye.  That was inconsequential as I stopped for about 2 seconds to drain them and readjust.  Nothing lost there.  I will suggest, however, that when racing in Kona, don't stop.  DON'T EVER STOP.  A quick peak at the buoys or a slight pause means that you will hammered.  KEEP SWIMMING.

All in all, I felt like I was having a great swim for about an hour and 5 minutes.  I managed to draft off of someone who I felt was the perfect match for me.  I even thought to myself that I would have her to thank for the swim of my life in the ocean when all was said and done.  I stayed on her feet for a huge portion of the swim, but as we started to catch some of the slower males, things got a bit dicey.  she either accelerated or I slowed down.  Either way, I finished the swim on my own, and it ended poorly.  For some reason, my calves started to cramp with about 5 minutes left to go.  I also felt a bit fatigued.  I was shocked at how quickly things started to nose dive, but I was content to ease up, save the calves and exit the water in 1:15.  I had hoped to be between 1:10 and 1:15, so I should have been pleased.  But I am never pleased.  I always want more.

I entered the transition tent and the K tape and bandages I had used to shield my chafing was hanging off of me.  A volunteer assisted me as I pulled the tape off and she gasped.  My arms were a bloody awful mess.  It did sting a bit during the swim, but I had a tube of vasoline in my transition bag and I used most of it on my arms.  It worked, and the chafing problem was solved for the day.  I would post pics, but you can use your imagination.  I am certain I will have permanent scars.

I was surprised to also find that, in transition, I just felt off.  I felt like I had just stepped off of a cruise ship as I was unsteady and fatigued.  I took my time then exited transition.  I was certain I would regroup and have a great bike.

This is where things went terribly wrong.  From the moment I got on the bike I had no power.  After racing IM Arizona twice,  and after completing a ton of other distance races, I am used to seeing my power sky rocket right off the bat.  I go out way too hard and have to really hold myself back.  On Saturday I was struggling to reach 130 watts.  This is just unheard of and something I can't get my head around.  I routinely produce more power on my casual 200k rides than I was able to produce on race day in Kona.  My average power was about 120 watts.  I knew I was in for a disaster of a day at that point.  I decided that I would just survive the bike, and that maybe I would feel great on the run.  I closely monitored my nutrition and fluids and stopped at every aid station.  But things just kept sliding.  It never got easy.  At about 100km into the ride my stomach was in knots.  I tried everything to relieve the cramping but could not solve the problem.  I tried more salt, less salt, more water, less gatorade, coke.  Every possible combination I tried failed.  I can't remember the exact moment, but I know I was on my way back from Hawi.  I knew I had to force the nutrition as I would be done without it, but as fast as it went down it started to come back up.  I am officially turned off of gatorade and I may never consume it again without dry heaving.  Hard to say.  But right now it's a no-go.  The bike was just agony.  The strong headwinds into town magnified my pain by 1000.  I was so happy to get off of that bike, but so deflated with my bike split.

As I sat in transition I honestly wondered how in the hell I was going to get through the day.  I took my time then headed out on the run course.  It was during my run that I really needed and drew upon the support that everyone had given me in the weeks leading up to my race.  I thought about every message I had received.  I thought about everyone who had told me they were going to follow my race on line.  I was so sad imagining what must have been going through everyone's mind as I carried on at a snail's pace, but it was just enough to keep me going.

As I turned onto Hualalai Rd, I saw my friend, Tracey Miernicki.  I started to cry.  All I remember saying at that point was that I didn't feel good.  It was so comforting to have her there at the instant I really needed her.  Miernick cheered me on as I walked/jogged and kept moving forward.  A couple of minutes later I saw Susan Cooper.  Again I broke down and I told Sue that I didn't know if I could do it.  Sue proceeded to tell me that I was in fucking Kona and to get in the fucking head space and smarten up.  Sue I really do love you and it was exactly what I needed.  It woke me up and that was the end of the crying.  

By the time I reached Sea Village I was searching for Mar and Daphne and as always, they were there  for me.  I was suffering, but not crying.  I apologized to them and told them I would finish the race but that I was going to be out there for a LONG time.

As the run (walk) progressed, my stomach started to straighten around.  I continued to drink coke and water at every aid station, and I hit the chicken broth the moment it appeared.  That was the real turning point for my stomach.  My body was completely done, but I tried my best to shuffle along and walk as little as possible.

The Energy Lab is an interesting place at night.  It is not punishing, and, ironically, it is where my stomach really took a turn for the better.  Maybe it was the live music.  I did appreciate the selection of  "Earth, Wind and Fire" tunes.  There were glow sticks, light shows and chicken broth.  A fond memory in my day of misery for sure.

I headed back along the Queen K Highway and saw Miernick with just over a mile to go.  I couldn't really speak at that point and she knew it.  She ran beside me and told me she would see me at the finish line.

As I rounded the final corner and headed up Ali'i Dr, I was completely overcome with emotions.  I am sure I cried the entire way and didn't stop when I crossed the finish line.  I can't say they were tears of joy.  They were definitely tears of enduring something that I have never endured before.

The support crew at the end of the race were amazing.  All I wanted to do was sit, but that was not an option.  I remember them saying I was shocky.  I remember not being able to form sentences, and I remember getting extremely cold and showing the nurse my goose bumps.  Nothing that a little time could not fix though.  I actually turned the corner fairly quickly and was allowed to carry on without supervision.  I think.  I am not sure if I was with someone or if I was alone when Miernick found me. I will ask.  Either way, Miernick got my bike and took me home.  I am forever grateful for her friendship and support.  I am also so thankful to have shared this experience with Mar, Daphne, my mom, and the other friends that were also racing in Kona.  Congrats to Kim Fabian and to Scott Cooper on your podium finishes and your wooden bowls.  Thanks for also letting me touch said bowls.  I admire and respect you both beyond words.

And that was my Kona.  For me, it was a day of survival.  It was not a day of racing.

I have pondered what the future holds for me, but after October 10th, I am certain of one thing.  I will return to Kona.  It may take a few years but I will be back to finish what I went there to do.  This is not the end.

Support Crew:

Thank-you, thank-you thank-you to everyone who has shared my journey with me.  Other notable mentions go to my mentors Brian and Mr. Chapman, Kirsten (you got me into this shit show) and Cam, Ann, Joyce and Becky, Rosemary, Jodie, Heather, Mandy, Chris Helwig, Scott Cooper, the Fitzpatrick clan, all of my family/cousins, and of course you, Ken.  #RideHincapie

In closing:  "You desire to know the art of living, my friend?  It is contained in one phrase:  Make use of suffering."  - Henri-Frederic Amiel

It's all Part of the Adventure

Well .... I wasn't sure I wanted to write this post.  When things are down on paper and the word is out,  it feels like the truth is punching you in the face.  But that's ok.  I can take a punch.

On July 11th, I raced in the Belwood Triathlon.  A mini-tri if you will.  750m swim, 30k bike and a 7.5km run.  Up until this point, my season had exceeded my expectations.  Other than one disappointing swim (in Welland) I was so pleased with how things were progressing.  I was finally starting to feel like a runner again.  I was enjoying some sub 5 minute km's on my easy runs, and the stiffness I used to feel regularly after hard bikes and hard runs was non-existent.

Belwood went fairly well.  My only real disappointment was that with 200m to go, I was passed by a 17 year old who ran like the wind.  In my younger years, I could always rely on my "finishing kick" (and some guts) to sprint with the best of them.  But at Belwood I really had no answer and watched her sail away to the finish line.  That put me out of the Top 5 podium spots with the dreaded 6th, but I managed to at least snag 1st in my age group.   Oh to be 21 years old again .....

Crossing the Line in Belwood:

Enjoying the moment with friends:

Although I was all smiles on the podium, I was deeply concerned about the ache in my right foot that I felt shortly after I finished the race.  The pain was all too familiar.  We are very fortunate in London to have the Fowler Kennedy Sport Medicine Clinic at the University.  I called at 7:00am Monday morning for an appointment and was with a doctor by 9:30am.  Pretty awesome.  The bad news was that I have another stress injury to my right foot.  In the words of my BFF, Mandy Dymock, this really "Chaps my Ass."  I have done everything right this year.  I have followed my program.  I have rested when I needed rest.  I am 20lbs lighter than I was last year.  I cycle through different pairs of shoes and never run on worn out shoes.  So WTF?????  I find this entire situation completely unfair.  But life isn't fair.  That's the way it goes.  I have a bone scan scheduled for July 28th which will be very telling.  I am trying to be optimistic.  It is not as bad as it was last year and I have the green light to swim, bike and to pool run.  Weight bearing is the issue.

I am glad to report that I did not cry in the doctor's office.  Last year I cried like a baby.  So humiliating.  So embarrassing.  This time I knew what was coming.  That makes a difference I think.

Onward.  I had a major training block planned with my friend/training partner, Ann Frost.  We were to head to the Georgian Bay area the following day.  Although I was a bit depressed, I knew that this "holiday" would benefit me in the long run.  We had a superb week up there.  We swam once in sub 60 degree water for 40 minutes.  After that, we hit the Owen Sound YMCA.  Total swim for the 5 days was about 9.5kms.  Total bike was 514kms.  Other than one minor problem:

The trip was a huge success.

So now we are home.  Ann is off to Whistler for her Ironman which will take place this Sunday.  I will be glued to the Athlete Tracker all day, so don't try to find me.  To make my day even better, Brian Keast will also be there.  Brian is a friend, a mentor, a source of endless information, and a true inspiration to me.  I will be pulling for you both.

So the water running belt is back in the bag and my work continues.  I will have a fabulous time in Austria with my mother at the end of August.  I am confident the swim and bike will go well.  The run may not be what I had hoped for, but I am not going to jeopardize KONA for Austria.  I will follow the doctor's orders and do things right.  I have done it before and I will do it again.

Finally, I was feeling a little frustrated today with everything.  I posted my thoughts on Facebook, and I have to tell you, I was choked up with all of the support and kind words that I received.  Facebook is a funny thing.  I don't know why we post what we do.  Maybe sometimes we just want people to know that life isn't a cake walk as it may appear from the outside.  Maybe sometimes we just need a little support from our friends.  I told Ryder about my foot, but he didn't seem to grasp the magnitude of the situation:

It's ok buddy.  I love you just the same.

So thanks everyone for your kind words and support.  I think all that is left to keep me going is a phone call from George Hincapie.  Yes, that would likely do it.

My ride today ... post melt down.  DON"T QUIT!!!  NO EXCUSES!!!

• 105.8km
  Distance
 
• 3:20:57
   Moving Time
 
• 421m
  Elevation

• 152W
  Weighted Avg Power
 
• 1,735kJ
  Total Work

	Avg	Max
Speed	31.6km/h	54.0km/h
Cadence	79	103
Power	144W	489W
Calories	1,934
Temperature	28℃
Elapsed Time	3:23:56

Welland Half

Well ... I should be doing laundry or having a bath or eating something.  But I don't want to put this chaffing in the tub and I want to enjoy my 5 minutes of success.  So here goes ...

I really wanted to do the Welland Half.  I have never raced a flat half IM distance, and I was itching to give it a go.  So with the help from some of my friends at LPS, I was able to switch 3 of my shifts and get the weekend off.  Pay back is never fun but sometimes desperate times call for desperate measures.

It was a last minute add on to the race schedule, but I am enjoying my injury free year of gains and my Hincapie tri suit wanted to come out of the closet.  Injuries really make you appreciate the good times. I am thankful for everyday I can run without pain in my feet or otherwise.  I paid the price last year but I got through it ... as everyone in this sport does.

Ken said he would come with me to the race and he said he would look after the boy for the day.  I was happy to have them both with me.  It is great to come into transitions and have the support of the people who are important to you.  This decision was a bit costly though.  We ended up staying at the "Pet Friendly" Four Points Sheridan in Thorold.  I was glad to spend the extra $100 plus though to have everyone with me for the weekend.

SUPPORT CREW:

By now Ken understands me and puts up with the pre-race need for over-the-top analness (is that a word) and unreasonable punctuality.  Thanks for always going with the flow Ken.

So we get to the race at a very respectable hour ... as always ... despite my constant remarks of "I have never been this late for a race in my life."  What is wrong with me I wonder sometimes.

Anyhoots ....

The rain held off nicely and we made our way to the swim start.  I loved seeing Ryder on the dock, kissing those who grabbed the dock's edge for a breather.  The water was refreshing but clean, clear and comfortable with a wetsuit.  Given previous swim times, I was thinking 33 minutes was doable.  The race started and the usual suspects pulled away.  After maybe 500m I was able to get on the feet of a decent swimmer.  I probably drafted for 15 minutes give or take, but I kept hitting his feet.  I wondered if maybe we weren't going fast enough.  I tried for the pass and was very disappointed to pull away.  I think maybe I picked the wrong guy.  But in hindsight, I am sure I conserved some energy for what was to follow.  I exited the water in 34:52.  I heard Ken cheer but I was a little bit sickened.  I didn't even look over as I didn't want to see his disappointment.  In the end, the swim was 2km and not 1.9kms, so it wasn't the disaster I first thought it was.  I think it fuelled my fire a bit as I knew I had some work to do.

The transition went smoothly.  One of my elastics holding my shoes in proper position on the bike didn't break though  so I had to rip it off on the move.  No big deal.  I clearly need to get some smaller elastics.

All went well on the bike.  I did try to hammer it.  I can't lie.  I wasn't in Zone One let's put it that way.  My only disappointment on the bike was that the race beverage seemed to be coconut flavoured of something similar.  It tasted like ass ... whatever it was ... so maybe I need to suck up the extra weight and carry a bottle of the beverage I enjoy and train with.  Oh the weight.  It's hard to get my mind around that.  No worries though.  The beverage did the trick and provided the fuel I needed.  I doubled up on my salt tabs throughout as it was a bit humid and I can usually tell when I am in need. Final bike split was 2:34:05 which was slightly over 35km/hr average.  A huge success and beyond my expectations.

Onto the run.  For 35 years I have run like a lunatic idiot.  I was the one in high school track who would be carried away due to improper pacing and complete exhaustion.  I have been running a ton with a great friend, Ann Frost.  She is an IM running machine.  Always negative splits.  (How is that possible??)  I also consulted with my old track coach, Mr. Chapman.  I respect and admire him and have always valued his opinion as a coach and a friend.  I decided to take the advice of my mentors and I wore my Garmin for the run.  My goal was a 1:45 half marathon.  I realized within the first KM the error of my ways.  I had to really slow down to run 4:50's.  I would hate to see my splits on every other half IM I have ever completed.  I always feel great running off the bike and get sucked into "Time in the bank".  That is just stupid.  Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.  Never again.  I am pleased with my splits overall.  I did not negative split but ran an evenly paced half.  It was nice to only suffer for the final 2kms and not the final 11.  Final run split:  1:43:09.  Thanks guys.

At the end of the race the announcers said I was third overall!!  I was thrilled.  I went to grab a chocolate milk when announcer stated that due to the wave starts, I actually won the whole damn thing!!!  I have NEVER won the whole thing.  What a great day and a great memory.   I beat second place by 13 seconds.  So for those of you who say it's gross to pee on the bike and to just pour water on your privates during the run?????  I arrest my case.

Nonetheless, I will give credit where credit is due.  Thank-you Angela Quick for having the emergency appendectomy.  You always win.  I never win.  Everyone should get to feel what it's like just once in their life.  I wish you a speedy recovery and will be happy to see you crush me at our next event.  Alex VanderLinden, I know you missed Ang, but it was an honour to share the top step with you.  Just this once.

Finally, thank-you to Hincapie Sportswear for selecting me as an Ambassador.  I think it is no coincidence that I won my first race overall while wearing something with George's name on it.  I am proud to represent you and to finally get on the podium for you.

THIS SUIT IS GREAT FROM ALL ANGLES:

THANKS TO EVERYONE IN MY CORNER:

There will always be Spain

Wow.  Trip number two is in the books.  I hardly know where to begin.  I guess I will start with the bike fiasco.

Prior to leaving for Mallorca, I was informed that Lufthansa could not confirm that there would be room on the plane for my bike for the flight from Mallorca to Frankfurt.  I was offered several options to deal with this issue.  Two of my friends opted to rent bikes for the race.  I decided that the only luggage I would check would be my bike.  Ken and I shared a suitcase and that was his checked bag. To make a long story short, this worked like a charm.  I paid $50 to Air Canada to get my bike to Mallorca.  I paid NOTHING to Lufthansa to get it home.  They took my bike as my one allowed piece of checked luggage at no fee!!  And to boot, Ken and I got the Emergency Exit seats on the flight to Frankfurt!!  I had done some research prior to the trip and had read that Lufthansa does have an excellent policy for bikes if it is your only piece of checked luggage.  This I can confirm!!  Friends we were travelling with were nailed $150 Euros each to get their bikes home, so I consider myself lucky.

Upon arrival in Spain, all went smoothly.  I had no major issues with the bike rebuild.  Myself and Scott Dickieson decided to ride the course on Monday.  Upon opening the gate to leave the house, Scott's tire blew.  Easy repair.  We headed down the road and found that his rear derailleur wasn't shifting properly.  A quick stop at one of the many bike shops and we were off again.  Shortly thereafter, Scott realized his Cateye bike computer wasn't functioning.  We tried to fix it but to no avail.  We kept going.  A couple km's later, my left aero bar went loose.  We stopped again for a quick repair.  I was a bit baffled as I could find nothing loose.  Off we went again, and minutes later my left aero bar snapped.  BIG PROBLEM.

Back to the bike shop we went.  The Specialized bike mechanic tried to order the part but to no avail.  We hit a second bike shop.  The mechanic at this shop told me that it could be fixed.  However, I would have to buy a set of aero bars to get the required parts.  Sugar Daddy Scott pulled out his credit card, and about 120 Euros later, we were off again.  This may seem like a rip off to many.  However, the mechanic closed his shop for lunch but remained to work on my bike.  Lunch in Spain (1pm-4pm) is sacred.  It was quite a big deal for him to stay and make all required adjustments to get me back up and running.  Desperate times call for desperate measures and I was happy to kiss my Euros good-bye.

By this time it was about 2pm, but we had made up our minds.  We were riding the course.

The climb was 15km's at an average grade of approximately 6 percent.  3 times I thought we were done, but it seemed to go on forever.  I worried a little, wondering how I was going to race up the mountain and end up with a respectable bike split on race day.  Thank God, I thought, for a quick descent.

We stopped at the top of the climb for lunch at an amazing restaurant frequented by, what appeared to be, every cyclist in Mallorca.  Just fabulous.  

                                                                                            

And then we started the descent.  Now I don't claim to be a skilled bike handler.  I like flat and fast.  Or straight down and fast.  Switchbacks and 180 degree hair pin turns are NOT my thing.  By the time I got to the bottom of the mountain, I was certain that a fast bike split was going to be a challenge SUPREME.  It was switchback after switchback, and I could take none of them at any kind of speed.  Some had little to no guard rails, and a mistake on the mountain could be life altering to say the least.

We got lost about 50 times, but eventually made it back to our hacienda.  All in all, a great day with scenery that left me breathless.

On the descent:

Sugar daddy and I:

Prior to race day, we swam in the crystal clear waters of the Mediterranean Sea and we did some sightseeing:

RACE DAY:

Bike drop off was Friday afternoon.  I have a routine that MUST be followed.  (I don't care if it is unnecessary).  I rack my bike and let air out of the tires as I inflate them on race morning.  I racked my bike and attempted to release air from my rear tire.  When I pressed the valve, sealant from the tube sprayed out, then nothing.  I wasn't sure if the sealant had blocked the Presta valve or if the valve 

was broken.  There wasn't a pump in sight and it was about 32 degrees out.  I was tired, sweating, and becoming very cranky.  I decided to deal with it in the morning.

Ken and I walked down to transition Saturday morning and arrived at about 6:15am.  Lots of time to stare at my bike and get nervous:

I got air into the valve with no issue and decided to leave it at that.  If air could go in but not out, I figured that was a good thing.  About 4 porta loo stops later and I was into my wetsuit and ready to go.

To my surprise, Mallorca 70.3 is the largest half Ironman in the world.  There were approximately 3500 athletes, with only 19 percent being women.  Fortunately, the swim was a wave start.  With only about 300 in our wave, I couldn't have asked for a better swim start.  Not once was I kicked, punched, or swam over.  I quickly got on the feet of a group of swimmers and held on for about 5 minutes.  At some point, however, they started to pull away, and in the blink of an eye they were gone.  I was unable to find anyone for the rest of the swim to draft off of.  Although this was a big disappointment, I was able to get a PB in the swim.  I credit this to Ken Fitzpatrick's coaching and to the wonderful buoyancy of salt water.  SWIM TIME:  31:08.  Division Rank #3.  It was nice to hear the surprise in Ken's voice when I ran out of the water.

It was into transition and off on the bike.  Due to the long transition area, I kept my shoes on the bike.  I have had great success and, also,  great failures with this in the past.  Saturday went perfectly.

I take one bottle of Ironman perform on the bike and one bottle of water.  I count on the aid stations to refill, and pretty much have my liquid, gel, and salt consumption down to a science.  I got to the first aid station before the climb and attempted to grab about 3 bottles of the race supplied beverages - FAIL.  I have NEVER missed bottles in the past.  I rode out of aid station with about 3 "FUCK" s coming out of my mouth.  But I quickly regrouped and went into management mode.  This was a great experience for me and I was pleased with how I adapted to this small disaster.

The climb was uneventful.  There was suffering and sweating, but I was pleased with my time when I reached the top of the mountain about 35km's into the race.  And then I started the descent.

I was feeling good and was pumped to make up some time.  I passed a few people and I remember having a big smile on my face going into an S-bend.  Then all hell broke loose.  I had too much speed going into a switchback.  I knew it was wrong, but I hit my brake going into the turn.  I simply misjudged my speed and the sharpness of the turn and my back wheel started to slide.  I heard people yelling all around me.  I believed I had seriously shit the bed at this point.  I let off the brake and wobbled into control, but it was too late.  I could not make the turn.  I was headed for the edge of the cliff and had two options.  I could hit the dirt patch (with no ledge) and hope I stopped in time, or catch the front of the van that was parked on the shoulder.  I opted for the van and hit it with my front right aero bar.  The van owners were gasping.  I landed on the hood and figured my day was over.  I thought there was no way my bike could have handled the impact.  I jumped off the van and climbed over my bike.  The van owners were yelling at me asking me to wait as they tried to ensure that I was not injured.  I told them I was fine and that I had to go.  I looked down at my gear shifter and my heart broke.  I thought it had snapped off.  I reached down for it and found that it had just bent all the way down.  Still attached.  My front wheel wasn't flat and everything seemed properly aligned.  I re-clipped and headed down the mountain.

I have to say that at this point I was completely terrified.  I was worried about the integrity of my bike and I rode with absolute fear for the remainder of the day.  In hindsight, I know I rode too aggressively into the turn.  But that's how I love to race.  I love to push my limits and leave everything on the course.  However, I have thought about this "incident" about 1000 times since Saturday.  I am thankful that I was able to finish the race with bike and body intact.  While I believe it is important to race to the edge of my physical limitations, it is equally important to race within my capabilities.  I learned a valuable lesson and will not repeat my mistakes in Austria.

(Please don't discuss this with my mother if you are reading my blog.  She stopped reading my blogs after my review of injuries sustained throughout my years in sport.  She doesn't much care to hear about my near death experiences.  Thanks in advance).

Aid station number two.  Another fail.  I grabbed a bottle of the race beverage to find that the bottle was half full.  I was able to grab a bottle of water and decided that I would get my nutrition through gels and salt pills.  Frustrating ... but again .... a valuable experience.

With approximately 30kms to go in the race, I heard a crash on the pavement.  I looked behind me to see my repair kit rolling down the road.  I believe I knocked it loose when I hit the van as I failed to check it.  At that point, I decided to keep going and to pray for no mechanicals. I hope that today, there is a nice Spanish fellow enjoying my favourite Ironman tool, tire levers, CO2 cartridges, tubes, etc etc.

With a final bike split of 3:01:19, my ride was over.  Division Rank #3.  I wanted to break 3 hours on the bike, but under the best conditions I did not know if that would be attainable.  I probably lost a minute or two being tentative after hitting the van, but that course was just superbly challenging.  It is a course for gifted cyclists or for the people who live and train in that environment.  I have a new found respect for Europeans and their cycling abilities.  It is a different world over there.

The run course was 3 loops.  I felt great for the first 15kms, then things got nasty.  But it's a race.  It's supposed to suck.  My goal was to have a sub 1:50 half marathon for the first time in a half Ironman distance.  Final run split:  1:48:37.  Division Rank # 4.  I believe that with better pacing, I could have run a 1:45.  However, I am extremely pleased to have set another PB.

My final race time was 5:28:45.  After riding the course, I set my goal at sub 5:30.  It wasn't an easy day, but it was an experience of a lifetime.  I missed the podium by one, but was pleased to hear that 3rd place was 9 minutes ahead of me.  Even with a flawless race I could not have made that time up on Saturday.  I am disappointed.  The trophies were beautiful and I always want to be on the podium. However, finishing fourth has fuelled my fire and I am hungry to race and keep improving.  I absolutely loved my Hincapie tri suit and I look forward to taking Hincapie to stop #3:  Zell Am See, Austria.

Thank-you to everyone for your well wishes and support.  And in the words of my new favourite t-shirt:

Oh This is Glamorous Alright

Wow.  Long time no blog.  Time has just been flying by, and tomorrow we head out for Ironman Mallorca 70.3.  I am excited to get at it for a number of reasons.  First of all, I will be healthy when the cannon goes off.  I can't remember the last time I was at a start line with all parts functioning.  Second, I have recovered from the bacterial bronchitis I had in March.  There is never a good time to get sick, but sickness is inevitable.  So if it must happen, 6 weeks before race day isn't a bad scenario.

Finally, this will be my first race as an Ambassador for Hincapie Sportswear.  I recently received a number of new items from Hincapie.  Two of my favourite things are the Women's Fontana casual jacket and the Flow X2 Tri Skinsuit.  Both items will be making the trip with me, and I definitely have had an "adrenaline boost/pick me up" since becoming part of the Hincapie Family.  Stay tuned for pics from Mallorca!!  (Footnote:  I also love the Hincapie socks.  A good sock is hard to find and those bad boys will be crossing the finish line on my happy feet). 

Packed and ready to go!!

Now for the glamour.  To make a long, long, long story short, I got a disturbing text while at work last night.  I was informed that my bike will make it to Mallorca as planned.  However, there is a slight problem with the return flights.  Apparently, there is no room on the flight from Mallorca to Munich for "my ride".  You can imagine the mass hysteria this has caused.  The following is a list of potential solutions that have been presented to me:

1.  Don't take my bike.  Rent one in Mallorca.  For me, this is not an option.  Two of my friends did opt for this.  However, my friends are fun-loving, kind, easy going, generous, and all around good people.  I, on the other hand, am an A-Hole.  I bought this bike and my Zipp wheels TO RACE ON THEM AND TO RACE EACH RACE TO THE BEST OF MY CAPABILITIES.  My bike is a finely tuned machine that took upwards of a year for me to dial in re:  comfort and fit.  If it doesn't go, I don't go.

2.  Change flights.  This is still an option.

3.  Take no luggage.  Pray the airline accepts the bike as my checked bag and take a carry-on.  This is happening.  I have, for once in my life, only packed things I will actually need on this trip!!!  I feel I have everything I need and this is not a problem.  

4.  Leave my bike and send it on the next available flight.  Also an option.  I have been told that it will be sent on the next available flight with room for it, and I have been told that it won't be sent without me.

The bottom line is that I have decided to "Wing it".  I paid to race and I am going to race.  I am not sure, exactly, when I will come home.  But I will not be leaving my bike in Spain.  I have had several melt downs, but at this time I choose to look at things as a GIANT adventure.  At the very least, this is going to make for a great story by the time I find my way back home.  I am going to race to the death (just short of death on the bike so I can break 1:50 on my run) and then I will come home.  Somehow.  Someday.  Someway.  

If you are watching the Athlete Tracker on May 9th, send me positive vibes and a little bit of luck!!

Totals for March:

SWIM - 30km

BIKE - 5hrs 50 mins of Computrainer and 552.7km outdoors.

RUN - 149.8km

Totals for April:

SWIM - 37.7km

BIKE - 4hrs 35 mins of Computrainer and 560km outdoors.

RUN - 188km

MALLORCA, I hope you are ready for this gong show!!  I'm coming your way.

5 Years at a Time

Where does the time go.  A friend of mine once told me to think of life in 5 year blocks.  She said that  she was always amazed .... to think of where she was today, and then reflect on where she was 5 years ago.  Well, 5 years ago today, I was arriving home from my first bike camp in South Carolina.  I was approximately 24 years of age.  OK that's a lie.  I was a bit older.  I stayed in Cabin 12 at Table Rock State Park.  And I knew next to nothing about cycling at that time.  I purchased a Cannondale Road bike specifically for that camp.  And what a piece of garbage that bike was.  I am not, by any means, discrediting Cannondale.  I have seen some Cannondale beauties.  Just not the particular model I had selected at that time.

Halfway to camp, I realized that I had forgot to pack my cycling jerseys.  I had none, whatsoever.  Not a one.  Nodda.  Zip, zero, zilch.  I had no idea what cold weather cycling gear even was.  Toe covers, arm and knee warmers, base layers, wool socks  .... not in my vocabulary.  Cycling gloves.  I didn't own a pair.  And nutrition?  What about nutrition.  You ate a big breakfast and took a bottle of water.  Right?  Gels?  Why would you take hair gel out for a spin?  I thought that a long ride to the death was about 60km's.  I thought that tacking on an extra 50km's of climbing would be no big deal.  Switchbacks, descents, pelotons, roadies, sucking wheel ... WHAT????  Sprint and Olympic triathlons were my thing.  I thought I was a hard core bad ass cyclist.  I HAD NO IDEA.

Fast forward.  5 years later.  I have a TT bike worth as much as a small car.  I have an inexpensive road bike.  But I love it.  I have a room full of wheels, bike parts, cycling gear, a computrainer, a bike rack.  You name it.  You can sell a triathlete anything if you didn't already know that.  I still don't claim to know much more than about one percent of everything cycling.  The more I learn, the more I realize how little I know.  But I have come a long way.  I would not classify myself as a competitive roadie.  A recreational roadie with a competitive spirit???  Sure.  But cycling is relative.  I am a 44 year old woman/(with childlike tendencies from time to time).  I am an age group triathlete with full time employment.  I have a house and a dog.  Triathlon is my hobby, not my livelihood.  Some may claim it is my obsession.  That is a strong possibility.

5 years ago, my goal time for the 10km climb at Caesars Head was 45 minutes.  I thought Olympic distance triathlons were insanely long and gruelling.  And I thought that George Hincapie was a legend I would likely never meet.

5 years later:  42:17 on Caesars Head.

 I will complete my 5th half Ironman in Spain in May, and my 6th in Austria in August.  I will complete my 3rd Ironman in Hawaii in October.  And last week, George Hincapie left a voice message on my cell phone.  Hello.  That's possibly my favourite thing right there.

 In January, I received a mass e-email from Hincapie Sportswear.  They were looking for applicants for their Ride Hincapie Ambassador Program.  I thought my chances of being part of the Hincapie Team were approximately nil, but I certainly was not going to let the opportunity pass me by.  George Hincapie was a domestique:  "A road bicycle racer who works for the benefit of his team and leader."  My definition:  "Warrior.  Silent hero.  Team player and class act."  In 2009, he finished the final four stages of the Tour de France with a broken collarbone.   Need I say more?   His accomplishments are longer than my blog.  And ask anyone.  Hincapie Sportswear cycling gear is simply awesome.  All of it.  I have, over the years, bought one of everything.  

So I tapped into my creative side and counted on some friends, and my video application came to life:

I am not sure why my lips froze in that position, or why I sound like I was an actress in the movie, "Fargo".  Nonetheless, we had a blast making this video and I am truly honoured and privileged to have been selected as a Ride Hincapie Ambassador.

In the last 5 years I have made friendships that will last a lifetime.  It's funny how mutual suffering and shared experiences can bind people together and cement relationships.  I am thankful for all of the blessings in my life, and I can't wait to see what the next 5 years will bring.  Life is an adventure.

Good-bye February

Well, February is dead and gone.  And to that I say good-bye, good riddance, kiss my ass, and beat it. To put it bluntly, February just sucked.  But it's a new month now, and to March I say, "HELLO and BRING IT!!!!!"

I did have some great workouts in February, and I pretty much stuck to the program despite having some less than ideal days to contend with.  During my fartlek run tonight after work, I thought about life and what a blessing sport has been in my life.

I am very greatful to have had (and still have) supportive parents who have always encouraged my participation in sport throughout my life.  I will forgive mom for the enrolment in the tap dancing and acrobat lessons that I was forced to endure for about four too many years.  I really hated that.  I hated the leotard, the tap shoes, and the dance recitals I performed to the likes of Ann Murray and The Carpenters.  I lugged those records back and forth from home to dance class then back home again.  Sadly, I left The Carpenters Collection in the back window of the car one day.  FYI - Records don't do well in extreme heat.  But mom thought (correctly) that flexibility was a factor in life long health, and she believed that these classes would benefit me in the long run.  I still hated them.

I remember when dad bought me my first motorbike.  It was a Honda 50.  Blue and Silver.  I loved that thing.  I would fly around the yard and field, jumping over every tree root I could find.  I was convinced I could excel as a dirt bike racer.  Sadly, that wasn't really mom's cup of tea.

When I was approximately 7 years of age, mom let me join the diving team in Dorchester.  This I loved.  I was pretty certain I would make the Olympic team in diving.  At my first competition I remember performing an open back flip off the 3m board.  I placed third overall, but that was my first and last diving meet.  Mom thought I would likely crack my head open on the diving board at some point and fall to my death.  Onwards ....

In public school, I participated in every sport possible in my attempt to find that one event that would take me to the Olympics.  I constructed a homemade high jump pit which was probably far more dangerous than anything I ever attempted on a diving board.  I ran every event in track and field, and usually ran to the point of collapse in every distance over 400m.  (This display of ... I shall call it ... poor pacing, was a talent that I perfected throughout my high school years).  I quickly realized that track and field was likely not going to be my ticket to the fast lane, so I took up basketball.  Basketball truly became the love of my life for many many years.  I practised in the driveway for hours on end.  I played during recess, and I went to Olympia Sports Camp every summer from the ages of 9 to 18.  My parents drove me all over Ontario to play.  But when you love something so much, the risk of heartbreak is very high when the dream comes crashing down.  I attended McMaster University for mainly one reason.  To play basketball.  In my freshman year, I made it through to the final cut, but that was as far as I got.  It came down to myself and another player I knew from my years at Olympia Sports Camp.  Well, in my humble opinion, Coach Bob Delaney BLEW IT.  To this day, I say "Bob Delaney, you blew it."  I would have ran through a brick wall for that guy but he just didn't know it.  I forgive Bob, ... no I don't.  I'm not going to lie.  That was a hard pill to swallow, but looking back, I realize that for me, sport is life.

Sport has been the source of my greatest joys and my greatest failures.  But sport lives on.  Sport prevails.  And sport has seen me through some of the lowest points in my life.  I remember leaning on sport during a failed marriage, during the death of my cousin, and during many other hard times.  I recently read a book entitled, "Spark:  The Revolutionary New Science of Exercise and the Brain".  This book explores the powerful and positive impact of exercise on the brain and I, for one, am a believer.  This is a pic of a sign at the pool at Western University:

There were times this month when the last thing I wanted to do was swim.  I would drag myself to the car, then ALMOST drive away when I got to the parking lot.  When I got to the pool I would tell myself that if the lanes were crowded, I would leave.  I would then get in the water and tell myself that if I got in 2000m that would be enough.  Then I would get to the main set and convince myself to do at least half of it.  By the time I was done convincing myself to keep going, my workout was done ... all of it ... and I found that I truly was just one swim away from a much better mood. To say the least.  

The lesson I have learned in February is that when the last thing you want to do is workout, in most cases, the best thing you can possibly do is workout.  I am thankful for all of the gifts, friends, and life lessons that sport has blessed me with.

My totals for February are as follows:

Swim - 46.1km.

My best swim consisted of a main set of 15 x 100m on a long rest interval.  I averaged 1:26 for all 15 intervals.  This was a great accomplishment for me.

Bike - 12hrs on the Computrainer.

Death by bike was my first Z4 ride of the year.  I was to complete 6 x 5 min at Z4.  I over did it on the  first interval and suffered for the majority of my 2 hr ride.  This error was corrected on Tuesday when I completed 6 intervals at 185 watts and felt strong throughout.

Run - 118.1km.

My best run was a Runner's Choice 17km long run with my running partner, Ann Hughes Frost.  I felt great throughout this run and finally started to believe that maybe my best running days aren't necessarily behind me.

That's it for now.  Bike Camp departure is 9 days and counting.

Good-bye February.  You sucked.  But I won.