Saturday, 21 March 2015

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.







Wednesday, 4 March 2015

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.