It’s Kona week. In just two days the cannon will blast a plume of smoke over the thousands of eagerly awaiting swimmers in the pristine waters along the Kona coast. It will signal the start of the grandest, most sought after long distance triathlon event on the planet. For many of those triathletes it will be a moment they will never forget and an experience to cherish forever. Almost every dedicated long distance triathlete dreams of one day gracing the world championship stage in Kona, but only the elite, the best or the lucky will have that opportunity. Kona is one of the reasons why I am in this sport. As a kid I remember watching the broadcast on TV, thinking the athletes were superheroes, and that one day, maybe, I could live the dream of competing in Hawaii. Even as a teenager, on a trip to Kona, I remember seeing the “OFFICIAL SWIM START AND RUN FINISH IRONMAN TRIATHLON WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP” sign at the Kailua Pier, and having a moment to reflect on all the great athletes who had realized their dreams in that very spot. At the time, I really knew nothing about the sport, other than its grueling nature. I still remember images of some of the final athletes literally stumbling and crawling across that coveted finish line on Ali’i Drive – it was inspirational. With a course that winds through mountainous climbs, lava fields, scorching temperatures, and howling winds, it is one of the most gruelling races out there. On this particular week, thinking about all the triathletes descending onto the course has inspired me to reflect on my own triathlon journey this year. The season was filled with triumph, defeat, failure, heart break, sore muscles, tears, laughter, joy, happiness, and success. I don’t even think there is an adjective or emotion that wouldn’t be fitting to describe the roller coaster that I called, training. Almost a year ago I walked onto the pool deck for my first workout with my new coach and two of my soon-to-be training partners. At the time I had a few sprint triathlons under my belt, but the training regime I was walking into was going to be a drastic change. These were Ironman competitors, and I was about to be put in my place. Only a few months previous, I was cycling along Westsyde Road, a rolling hills, yet mostly flat jaunt out in the country, which at the time qualified as my “hills” ride. Now here I was about to embark on one of the most gruelling training plans I have ever endured. My first hint was on this morning at the pool when my coach told me to swim laps with my legs tied together. At first I thought he was trying to drown me. There are still moments, even a year later, where I think his workouts are for the intended purpose of murder. Anyway, that swim was nothing short of a flailing attempt at bobbing from one end of the pool to the other. I was heaving along like an exasperated floundering sea creature, all the while struggling to mimic the graceful and quick movements of the other two swimming along with me. I felt out of place, but determined. And from that day on, that just kind of became my style – struggle to keep up yet push with every ounce I had to follow in the footsteps of those ahead of me, and they were always ahead of me. Some days I thought it would be nice to have someone who moved at my pace, but then I realized the faster my partners moved, the harder I pushed. With each workout I would tell myself to never lose sight of the fastest one, yet I would fail every time. And failure became my driver to continue screaming and cursing and flailing, all the while pushing the limits. Some would think it’s lonely at the back, always being last, but I grew to accept it and to thrive from it. Always chasing someone means you are always, always pushing. I became grateful for the expertise they shared, and even more so that, even through their own pain of the workout, they would encourage me along as they lapped me, time and time again. Reflecting on this past year, I would say my development as a triathlete started with the 5-peat hill climbs, gruelling 10X400 metre swims, and the endless mind, body and soul testing track workouts, but it was the group of incredible people I got to train with that really molded me into the triathlete I wanted to be – determined, driven and committed. The season may have ended on a sour note, and I might be struggling to find a rhythm in my recovery, yet looking back on the year, it was an incredible journey; a journey I can’t wait to repeat, only this time with a different end result. This sport has changed my life for the better and I can’t wait for the back-to-back workouts, tears, sweat, pain, yadda, yadda, yadda. It will be great. In the meantime, I will put on my pom poms, enjoy the quiet of recovery and cheer on the Kona competitors, but I will be cheering loudest for the one and only Melissa Lowenberg., a true friend and competitor. Mel, go get ’em.
Here’s to finally putting the 2014 season behind me and looking forward to the new challenges of next year. 
Blog
Step two: Find a log, sit down, enjoy the silence
I sat down tonight to tell a story, and the truth is I’ve started and stopped to tell eight different versions of nothing. The post season blues have hit me hard. I think it’s safe to say that I’m back to feeling like myself – although not really. All my fine form conditioning has slowly escaped me and I feel sucked dry, sluggish, useless and otherwise dwindled down. Getting into a routine has been difficult. First I wasn’t well enough to train, then I wasn’t sleeping enough to have the energy to train and then I just kind of fell out of everything and slumped into a routine of not doing anything. It’s a vicious cycle. I think I even started to excuse it all by saying, “I’m still not ready.” Maybe that was true a week or two ago, but the excuses no longer apply. I was so impatient while getting healthy, constantly chomping at the bit to get back into training hard when I should have been resting. Now that I’m there, I can’t seem to get into a grove; my drive seems faded or somehow missing. I’m beating myself up slowing down, but maybe for now, I’ll just find a log, sit down, and enjoy the silence.
Step one: get back on the horse
It’s been almost a month since being sidelined with Meningitis, and every ounce of me has been itching to feel the pounding pavement beneath my feet, or the wind whipping at my face on the bike, or the calming rush of gliding through water. The things that make me feel free and alive have been absent, and I desperately want them back, but it’s been a slow process. I’m getting better, but there is a fog that still plagues me. I’m struggling to regain my energy, headaches randomly creep in, and sleep is an impossible task – I just don’t feel like myself. So, this morning, with 3 hours of sleep, I forced myself to crawl out of bed and go do the one thing that washes away the aches and pains, the doubt, and the anxiety – swim.
I haven’t crawled out of bed much before 9am in the past few weeks and the darkness of the cool morning was a stark contrast to the warm, bright mornings I was used to seeing. It felt like the days of summer had disappeared over night, and I’m afraid that soon enough these early starts will greet me with snowy drifts and a freezing nose. Until then I’ll take the fall temperatures and semi-darkness.
When I arrived at the pool a familiar scent of chlorine instantly wafted through my nostrils and I inhaled it like a sweet drug. I looked around the old confines of the change room as the damp tiled floor soaked the bottoms of my dragging sweat pants – normally something that annoys me first thing in the morning, but today I was feeling too grateful for annoyances. It seemed like I’d been away for so long but that’s the punishment of time when you’re eagerly awaiting something special. As I walked out onto the pool deck I was acutely aware of the childlike grin on my face. The water was calm and only slightly rippled by the few early swimmers. This place has been a source of resolve for me a few times before. I don’t know what it is but something about swimming brings me to a place of peace.
As I slowly walked down the stairs into the cool water I felt like a frail old woman preparing for my morning water aerobics class. Normally I would drop myself off the elevated deck, but this morning I opted for a safer and slower entrance. The cool water instantly sent a shiver up my spine, and without much hesitation I submerged myself and allowed the water to envelope around me before resurfacing. The journey to the other end looked longer than I remember, and just like the first time I ever swam the long course pool, I felt nervous about making it all the way. But instead of thinking for too long, I pushed off the wall, glided under water like a slow yet graceful seal, and just started swimming. Whatever doubts I had about forgetting to swim or not being able to get to the other side quickly vanished. A goofy underwater smile spread across my face causing my goggles to shift and droplets of blue chemically water seeped in stinging my eyes. I really didn’t care, and like my old friend Dory, I just kept on swimming, feeling alive and miraculously cured of whatever ailed me. From one wall to the other, I would push off, relaxed and free. Thoughts about my missed race and what could have been this season crept into my busy mind and it only pushed me to keep on going, slow yet steady, and determined. At first the numbness and tingling in my legs felt strange and uncomfortable, but I eventually adjusted until it just began to feel normal. This is exactly what I needed, the free flow of water against my body and a friend to share the lane (thanks Mel) – if only we could high five and swim.
Even though next season is still – well, next season – this felt like the first step to what lies ahead. Perhaps, for now I should just enjoy the peacefulness of slow and steady because without a doubt there will come a time again soon enough when it will be back to the old suffer grinder fests that I’m used to enduring. Crazy as it sounds, I’m looking forward to it, all the while counting my blessings that I can still do what I love. In this journey I have no doubt there will be more curve balls hurled by way; what matters is how I throw them back.
Then everything short circuited…
One week ago you could say I was mentally and physically all over the place, I think some probably even thought I was dreading race day. The truth is I was just a jumbled ball of energy dying to get to that start line – I was ready and I knew it – then everything short circuited.
My mind is foggy, my head aches, I have numbness in my legs, and the strength I had just a short week ago is gone. I’m struggling to understand how I got here, and I’m struggling to understand why this happened. All I know is that race day will come and go without me this year. All the athletes who have been working relentlessly to get to this moment will take to the start line and see their dreams realized this Sunday, while I will have to watch from afar. For eight months I have poured my heart and soul into this sport. I worked with a dedication I’ve never seen from myself, and a determination to be better and stronger with every challenge I faced. I ate, breathed, slept, drank and dreamed of this sport, and perhaps even obsessed over it. August 24th was supposed to be my dream and my test this year yet within a matter of hours it was taken from me this past Thursday night when I was admitted into hospital with an eventual diagnosis of Meningitis. Severe head pain amongst other delightful accompanying symptoms crippled me in a rigid hospital bed for four days. It’s been one of those things that just kind of hits you up the side of the head, and you’re like, “where the hell did that come from??” Life is funny like that and so is timing. Out of all the things that I hate the most right now it’s not the fact that I’m missing the race, my trip to Vegas to celebrate the end of the season and my 30th, or even the fact that I’m barely able to sit up or walk stairs. It’s missing my brother’s wedding this past Saturday – that one hurts like a punch to the gut. That’s a one time shot (hopefully) and it’s not like races where you just make up for it next year. This is family and it meant so much to be there, to see him marry the woman he loves, the woman who makes him happy. I was fortunate enough to squint through a live feed of the ceremony before succumbing back to the pain and torture of a swelling cranium. And now all my memories from that day are etched into photos taken from the guests who were there. It makes me feel so absent and distant from such an important moment in my brother’s life. But it looked like an amazing day and so did the newlywed couple, and really in the end that’s all that matters.
Over the last week I’ve had a lot of time to think, although sometimes it hurts, and despite the shittiness of the situation, I feel so grateful. Grateful for the love and support from friends and family, grateful that because of my overall health I will heal and probably very well, and grateful for the past eight months, because with or without that race, it certainly wasn’t all for nothing. Almost every single day I was doing things I thought impossible and it made me feel alive and proud. Feelings that have been kind of absent for me in the past. The changes I’ve seen in my physical self as well as my mental self are incredible and I can honestly say this is the happiest I’ve ever been in my adult life. This sport has changed me for the better. Every ounce of energy ever bottled up inside of me had an outlet and training made me feel free from myself. I also spent a significant amount of my time with some of the most incredible people I’ve ever met, people who I admire both as friends and as triathletes. This journey has been incredible and every journey has it’s bumps in the road, so I’ll take this one this year, and be that much more ready to do it all again next year. I have feeling I’m going to come out of this stronger and more focused than ever before.
Believing in yourself to get ‘er done
I have done the head bob a record number of times in the last two weeks as my body has been begging for more sleep. I’m practically a bobble head on the dashboard of a moving car. Everything in my life has been full on and sleep is the first to suffer. Work has ramped up, training has – well no – training is just always ramped up, and for some reason, I thought maybe I could ramp up my social life too. And suddenly I look around and I have no clean clothes, dishes piled to the ceiling, unpaid bills, permanent footprints in my bathtub and cob webs forming on my couch. I feel like I’ve only sat down to pee, put on my shoes, work and sleep. I am exhausted and lately I’ve been feeling like my performance is going downhill and that I’m never going to be ready for race day. I know that now is not the time for self-doubt but it crept in like a disease and it’s been hard to shake. I’ve been craving a break to let my body rest, but coach has other plans in mind and well the guy is like the rain man of triathlon training so I can’t argue, but I did ask for an extra day off this past weekend. He seemed slightly shocked that I wanted to skimp on workouts during the final three weeks of prep, and I suppose I understood considering I wanted to take the day off to drink beer and play in a ball tournament instead of riding my bicycle for four hours. Irregardless, he took my four workouts from Saturday and Sunday, combined them into one, said to have fun and in not so many words to never ask for an extra day off for fun ever again.
I arrived in Revelstoke on Friday night and swore off the beer for the first night so that I could get up at 6am for the double duty workout. First on the docket was a 45 minute warm up on the bike followed by a ride up the Steamer – a 25 kilometre, 1,500 metre climb up Mount Revelstoke. In my mind I had prepared myself for a legs burning, lungs dying cycle and I was amped to just get ‘er done. As I flew down the highway and came up under the overpass I saw the ascent ahead of me and prepared to endure the pain. Yet within only a few hundred metres I realized that this would be one peaceful and beautiful challenge. Huge trees loomed around me, while the odd squirrel, rabbit and deer would pop out from the shrubs to curiously watch me spin along the pavement. I could hear the vast sounds of nature with mini roaring waterfalls and soaring birds. This is one of the first rides in a long time where my skin wasn’t being scorched by heat and with the calmness of the world around me, I settled in for one of the tougher, yet ironically relaxing climbs of the season.
As I reached the top and looked out over the valley I breathed a sigh of relief and content, before peeling around and tucking in for a fast descent. The fresh breeze whipped at my face and I felt strong and oddly rejuvenated. The self doubt was fading and I was back on top of the world.
Once back into town I threw the bike in the car, put on the running shoes and set off for a 10k tempo run. Much to my surprise there was a fire in my legs that wasn’t burning or painful, but lively. I was raring to go and everything felt rhythmic and smooth. I had no pain in my shins, and my heart rate remained at a constant, manageable beat. After a brief warm up I kicked it up and took off for the tempo, maintaining an even pace the whole way. I haven’t felt that strong on a run in forever, and after dominating the Steamer, I was amazed that my legs had it in them to deliver that kind of performance. Rounding back into town, I looked down at my watch to see a personal best for a 10K effort and a smile spread widely across my face – I almost wanted to hug myself. Instead, I tossed off the tri gear, grabbed my ball glove and a celebratory beer and ran out onto the field for a game of softball with my buddies. I deserved my extra day off and was going to enjoy every minute of it before going back to reality and the grind.
This sport can be so draining and with the physical ailments comes the mental wavering until you eat away at yourself. Some days are incredibly tough and you feel like quitting, and then you hit a PR and suddenly you feel on top of the world. I’m learning to trust in myself, believe in myself, and to not be so hard on myself. Training is so much more than becoming a stronger triathlete, it’s also about becoming a stronger person and learning who you are and what you can do. Some days you just have to hunker down, tell yourself you can do it, and just do it. The Challenge is less than three weeks away, and I am holding onto the positive vibes, strong legs, and tough mind for as long as possible because that’s exactly what will carry me across that start line right to the finish.
Rust2Iron 