aly couch

I’m a rule breaker

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Life during the off season has become one big, long pity party of reflecting on what was and what was supposed to be. When I look in the mirror I see a frumpy, lumpy reflection; when I walk up the stairs I hear an exasperated old woman; and when my body aches I blame the lumpy couch and back-to-back movie marathons. I feel like a has-been and in reality it’s a pretty accurate description.
If I wasn’t already down enough on my shameful post-season uselessness, I stumbled across an article on triathlete.com by Jene Shaw, entitled ‘Four Rules for the Off Season.’ Almost immediately, I cringed at the thought that I had most likely already broken every rule, but for the sake of entertainment, I went through the rules anyway.
Rule #1: Don’t run a marathon in January.
Mission accomplished. Unless you count movie marathons or triple header rounds of beer pong, I have sufficiently satisfied this rule. In fact, I have never run a marathon, and I don’t plan on it until after the snow has fallen and then melted.
Rule #2: Focus on short, intense workouts
Fail. I’m not sure I even know what the word ‘focus’ means anymore, and other than short, intense bursts playing ice hockey after drinking a six pack, I think this does not apply.
Rule #3: Gain weight
Mission accomplished. Refer to earlier descriptions of frumpy and lumpy, and for good measure I’ll throw in tub of lard. I have indeed gained a significant amount of weight, mostly thanks in part to complying with rule #1.
Rule # 4: Swim a lot.
Fail. I’ve thought about swimming a lot. In fact I’ve set my alarm clock at least three times in the last week with full intentions to hit the pool. I’m zero for three. Next week, I’ll think about it some more.
Rule #5: Hit the gym
Fail. I have also thought about going to the gym. I was even supposed to start spin class last week, but somehow other activities keep derailing this plan. Anyway, plans in the off season are over rated.
Result:
Two for five, which when you do the math, equates to off-season triathlete failure.
Although I give myself a hard time, this has been a much needed break from the constant obsession of training and I’ve learned to become ok with that. I learned to let go of constantly eating, breathing, dreaming, thinking, living triathlon for just a brief flurry of unproductivity mixed in with some uninhibited fun. I’m kind of a one extreme to the other type of person, so I can’t say it’s the perfect balance, but it works. Starting this week, I’ll be putting away the beer glasses and bringing back out the running shoes to kick start a gradual return to fitness. And in honour of getting back on track, I also signed up for my first half iron in June. It’s been exactly one year since I signed myself up what was supposed to be my first half iron this past season, so I figured what better time than today to make that exact same commitment – but this time I’m not letting anything get in my way.
Check out the full triathlon.com article here.


Coastal Thanksgiving Weekend

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This Thanksgiving weekend I spent my time in Victoria with loved ones, enjoying the freedom of drinking bottomless bottles of wine, overindulging in food and sharing in good laughter with friends and family. Over the past couple of weeks, I have really forced myself to stop obsessing over training and what will come next year and focus on, really, not focusing on anything at all. But in between the drinks, food and unfocused inhibitions, there is always time for a run along the waterfront.
Back on the coast, I instantly felt the fresh salty air fill my lungs as I deeply inhaled wisps of a thick, moist ocean breeze. It felt as though I was breathing in a lifetime of memories, and there was a sense of calm that washed over me. After living in the desert interior for the past few years I have become like a leathery lizard. Here, back in my west coast hometown, the ocean’s dampness brushes on my skin and I absorb the moisture like a sponge.
My last visit home was clouded by sickness and recuperation, and this time I was desperate to cling onto the coastal air with every last breath. Honestly, it doesn’t take long to feel reinvigorated by the trickles and sprinkles of fall rain showers, and a slightly chilly westerly wind. On this particular day I was pounding the pavement along the Galloping Goose – a long and winding trail throughout the city that makes a frolicking playground for runners, walkers and cyclists. With the gentle ocean breeze I had tears streaming from my face and a runny nose. Over-sized maple leaves flowed freely about the winds and flopped down upon the damp pavement like drenched lilly pads. The contrast of blues, greens, and even a slight tinge of grey amalgamated together to create beauty and serenity lain out before me. I miss days like these. I don’t often get to visit home much anymore, so I always cherish every moment, relishing in the local running trails and everything else this small BC city has to offer.
I grew up in this multifaceted community, and just like this trail, every road, park, building, and tree represents endless vivid memories. On this day, even with the trickling raindrops, there was still a milling about of active Victorians eagerly pacing themselves along the ocean’s shoreline, enjoying the exercise, company and simply the sheer beauty of the scenery before us.  I love the vibrant west coast, and how alive it makes me feel. The pungent stench of the now unfamiliar ocean plagued the moist ocean air and, despite my constant moving, the light breeze brings chills to my bones. Off in the distance I saw a bunch of kayakers peacefully floating down the calm waters of the Pacific and I deeply inhaled the ocean air and instantly felt a sense of calm, even despite my skyrocketing heart rate. As manic as it sounds, I could spend a lifetime simply jogging up and down the seashore trail, like a Forrest Gump on his mission to nowhere but to just keep running.
Life on the island can be extraordinarily idyllic. It has the charisma to take you places you’ve never been before. It’s funny, after spending more than twenty years in this seaside oasis I lost sight of its beauty, and often took for granted what lay just outside my back door. Nowadays, during visits that are often much too short, I have found my way back to appreciation for the magnificent coastal mountains, cool ocean breeze, great Canadian maples, and majestic running and bike routes. It feels so good to be home.
Over the next few weeks, I am going to maintain the “have fun, forget about the pain,” mentality and try to relax. Surprisingly, it’s hard to do. There is an itch within me that wants to be constantly tied to a schedule, especially a schedule of endless training. At this point though, I figure it’s best to to get it out of the system and enjoy the peace now, because the work is coming.

Kona, reflection and more non-training days

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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.

Step two: Find a log, sit down, enjoy the silence

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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.

 

 

 

 

 

Believing in yourself to get ‘er done

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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.