At the pool the other morning I was adorned with my first battle wound of the season while simply swimming routine laps. Normally I’m reminiscing about stories on the battlefield of bike rides where traffic, curbs, pebbles and even painted lines seem to jump at you and threaten a good bruise, laceration or road rash. Usually injuries in the swim come from either a severe lack of ability to remain afloat, severe lack of ability to judge when you’re going to literally hit the wall, or, and more likely so, during a race when thousands of other arms and legs are seemingly flailing all at once. Swimming routine laps on a training morning with clearly marked lanes and significantly less flailing bodies, usually means you’re pretty safe from injury. That is until I get in the pool.
On this morning, the pool was unusually packed and at first glance it almost looked like a race of jumbled bodies. There were slow people in the fast lane, fast swimmers swimming on top of slow swimmers, some would start with the front crawl and randomly switch to the breast stroke, some were sculling down the ropes at a turtles pace while others were working on speed work – it was a mess. For triathletes, we welcome chaos in the water. Most people, would prefer to leisurely swim up and down the pool, back and forth without waves or disruption, but we like to churn things up a little bit. It’s good race prep and besides we’re all used to having fingers tickle our toes, arms punching us in the head and bodies literally swimming on top of us. This is more or less what an open water swim entails.
For most of the morning, I was situationally aware and good at sensing a slower swimmer ahead of me, quickly checking for oncoming traffic, then slithering my way between two bodies to make a safe pass. That is unless you have crazy legs in the pool. This guy has the most unusual swimming technique I’ve ever seen. I have described some of my swimming techniques as reminiscent of a dying sea creature but this man has an incredibly interesting way of propelling himself forward in the water. I can’t quite describe how he manages to get from one end to the other, but he does, and I would willing to bet he is the hardest working swimmer in the pool on any given day. That being said, he is one of the best obstacles to try and maneuver around if you’re looking to simulate a chaotic open water scenario. Most of the other swimmers know that you don’t attempt to swim within a 5 metre radius of him, even with a rope between you, because there is a good chance one of those wide-spread flailing arms will swipe across the water and take you out, as I learned the hard way.
On one of the final drills of the morning set, I found myself coming up behind a slower swimmer, so as I had done all morning, made a quick look before picking up speed to propel between the swimmers on either side of me. Just then a flash of human flesh came surging towards me and with no room to move or react my arm, already moving at full speed flew into the air and the hard knuckled fist of the oncoming swimmer slammed into the inside of my arm. A sharp pain shot down my appendage and into my armpit. It was a brief moment of churning water and at one point there was another body beneath me. As I sorted myself in the right direction and away from the other bodies, I saw the concerned onlooking lifeguard, before, doing what any triathlete would do, and settled back into my rhythm. What I’ve come to learn from swimming with packs of people is that collisions happen but you must never stop. I’m fairly certain the other swimmer, after punching into my soft flesh, immediately stopped and probably bobbed at the surface for a confused moment trying to make sense of what happened. All at the same time, I was continuing on swimming with a shooting pain running down my bicep. In my own strange way, I was proud of myself for doing what we’ve always been taught – to just keep swimming even after taking a punch. Every moment in training is for the greater good of preparing for the big day and I’ll even thank crazy legs for teaching me how to take a hit in the water.
ironman
Here we go
December has begun which means training programs have been assigned and it’s time to get back to work. That extra weight that seemed to magically pop up on my hips overnight needs to go and my heart, lungs and muscles need to feel the burn again. Last week, I went through my fitness test, which gives coach my baseline for the start of the season, or as I like to call it, the test of how lazy I got over the last few months. But the real start to the season, the real start to the road to Ironman kicked off with a 6am swim on Monday morning.
The night before it was chilly and at only 5:00pm, it was already dark. The thought of getting into a pool at 6 in the morning sent shivers of goosebumps up my arms, or maybe it was goosebumps of anticipation. For the first time since August, I was packing my swim bag preparing for a group workout. My bathing suit has been hanging in lonely solitude on the back of my bathroom door handle for months and as I grabbed it to throw in my bag, I caught the wafting scent of chlorine. It was a scent that I’ve missed. For me, it was like taking your first sip of coffee in morning – rush and calmness at the same time that fire you into some sort of get up and go momentum. It was enough for me to forget about the cold and get out the door.
As soon as I stepped onto the pool deck, I remembered my first group swim from last year. I was so nervous and so afraid of being out of place that I thought I might forget how to swim and simply drown. That fear was intensified when my coach told me to tie my feet together with a thick rubber band. Looking back on it now, I laugh. As I brought myself back to the present moment on the deck, I suddenly started to have those some apprehensions. What if I got so out of shape I couldn’t swim 50 metres? What if I drowned with my feet tied together because I forgot how to swim? But as with all irrational thoughts they were soon dispelled as I hopped in the cool blue water and just kept swimming lap after lap like a fish with no rhyme, reason or direction. In fact, I think the extra weight in my ass totally helped negate any possibly of sinking.
Getting back into the routine of training this week was magical. There really isn’t any other word for it. When you find your passion, this is what it feels like. It might sound hokey or a little too gung-ho, but it just is what it is. Embarking on one of the toughest roads I’ve set out to conquer leaves me full of anticipation, nerves, worry, fears, joy and excitement. There almost isn’t a word that won’t describe all the emotions and thoughts that go into preparing for an Ironman. Every time I tell someone about my training I always get the same raised eyebrow looks and the same “oh you’re crazy,” responses, which sometimes makes me second guess my ambitious goal. Am I really going to do this? I remember writing on my bucket list years ago that I was going to complete an Ironman and a marathon. At the time, I thought, yea right. I figured I was more likely to succeed at ticking off more practical goals, like riding a bull, swimming with sharks or flying a blimp. Honestly though, I’m here to tell you, having big dreams and seemingly outlandish ideas of doing what others deem impossible is a hell of a motivator and entirely possible.
Here’s to the first week of my road to that dream and all the challenges that come with it. I’m feeling pretty pumped.
Embrace the pain
It’s 35 degrees, the sun is scorching against your skin and it feels on fire, along with the fire burning in your heaving lungs, pounding feet and heavy legs. You’re 5 kilometres into a 10 k tempo and every bone within your body is telling you to stop, puke and collapse in a pool of your own sweat. There is an inner turmoil within your brain, half telling you to keep going, half telling you enough is enough. It’s that point in the workout when you have to dig deep and go to a place to find even the tiniest bit of inspiration to just keep going and to keep on pace.
This is the inner battle of going above and beyond and breaking through. Most, if not all, athletes go through it and how you come out the other side is how you choose to face that battle, and sometimes a little inspiration goes a long way.
My inspiration starts with my friend who has Multiple Sclerosis. She struggles with pain, debilitation and exhaustion; that’s her daily fight. Whenever I get to that breaking point in my workouts I think of her and I remind myself how fortunate I am to have the ability to even chase the dream of competing in an Ironman race. It really is a gift to be healthy and able bodied, and it’s something to never forget. No matter what pain I face in a race or a training workout, there is someone, somewhere facing a much greater challenge, someone like Kayla Montgomery, the runner from North Carolina, who is defying all odds. I stumbled across Kayla’s story the other night and was instantly moved to tears. Despite being diagnosed with MS, Kayla is one of the best young long distance runners in America. Her story is remarkable and simply inspiring. She embodies discipline, hard work and determination. Watching her collapse at the finish after an incredible performance on the track is gut wrenching but amazing. She is chasing a dream, because she still can. Because of her disease, there may be a day when she can longer compete, yet along walk, so she’s doing what she can while she can. It’s something we should all remember – just how blessed we are to have the ability to do what we do. Suffering through the grind is just a part of the journey, and we should embrace every pain that comes along with it, because it’s better than not being able to run at all. Being in good health should never be taken for granted because you never know when that might change. As Kayla said, “I hope to run to as long as I can and to make the most out of it as long as I can. When or if I’m not able to run at some point down the road then at least I can look back and know that, when I could, I gave it my all.”
I’m a rule breaker
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.
Kona, reflection and more non-training days
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. 
Rust2Iron 