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.
rust2iron
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.
The final countdown
My energy has been sucked dry, my body aches in a way that is begging for me to stop and overall I’m desperately holding on to the last five weeks of this journey for dear life. I’m struggling to find the words to express my emotions because it’s consuming and constantly changing. There is relief, excitement, fear, sadness, happiness and stress. I never know which one is coming or going, or how long it will last. I’m jumping into everything with both feet and my whole heart, but I never know what to expect. Some moments I’m flying, other moments I’m floundering. In talking with my training partners, it seems that this is all completely normal for the last few weeks of the season leading up to the big race. As one of them said, it’s like going to war. It’s not like you spend all this time making a chocolate cake, then you get to eat it, it’s like you just get dropped into the war zone and you see whether you live or die. It all sounds a bit melodramatic, but this has been one of the hardest mental and physical challenges I’ve ever put myself up against and I’ve worked so hard to get here. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about swimming, biking and running and all the things in life that revolve around it. I dream about it, I write about it, I never stop talking about it, I devote my time, my energy and my emotions into it, and as much as some people think that’s neurotic – I love it. At the end of the day, I might feel a little bit broken and a half way to the grave, yet this is the first thing in my adult life that has made me feel undeniably happy and unquestionably alive. As I descend into the final weeks of preparation for my biggest race this year, I’m focusing on the finish line and the glory of all that I have accomplished. I’m also looking forward to more free time, more cold beers and less time in an ice bath. Here’s to the final weeks of triathlon season 2014 and maybe a few more stories of suffering and triumph along the way.
Summer is here
The sun is blazing hot, the hot air has me sucking more wind than usual, and every workout has me desperately seeking ways to cool off. I have run with ice cubes down my shorts and sports bra, run through sprinklers on people’s lawns, guzzled litres of water, drenched my skin in sunscreen and otherwise wanted to die. For all those freezing training days where we wished for sun and warmth, well now we have it, and in brief moments of desperation we long for one little rain shower, just to cool our overheated bodies. It seems as though summer has finally arrived and as we enter the second week of July, I can’t believe that, for some, triathlon season is winding down. My training partners will race at Ironman Canada in less than two weeks, and they have already begun to taper. Last weekend was their last big push as we traveled to Whistler to train on the course for four days. There was no particularly good training reason for me to endure more than 500 kilometres of swimming, biking and running, especially considering my race is half the distance, yet I couldn’t resist the challenge.
The scenery at Whistler was absolutely stunning. I’ve only been there in the winter and without the thick blanketing of snow, the landscape seemed to come alive. For four days, we trained, ate and slept. We rode up and down from Whistler to Pemberton so many times I could ride it blind. One morning, we did a time trail back up it, and my legs burned in a pain that could only be felt from riding your bicycle as hard as possible up a mountain. But I relished in the downhill moments and felt as free as a kid riding my bike without training wheels for the first time. Then we swam and it felt rejuvenating and
refreshing even though my open water skills had me looking like a drunk seal. On two of the afternoons we ran and it felt incredible to zig zag through the lush trails around the village, while the second run had me thinking I would hurl with almost every step. But that’s just how the past six months of this journey have been; pleasurably painful.
By the end of the four days, we had endured some tough training, but every now and again when I wasn’t exasperated I also enjoyed some pretty wicked scenery, even a close encounter with a bear. It was just another incredible adventure in my journey, and while my training partners may be almost done, I still have six weeks to go. There is still so much work ahead of me, including more hot summer days where I will run with ice in my shorts and long for one quick cool summery shower. Here’s to the final six weeks and to many more adventures.
The end of an era
This weekend began a new era of cycling in my triathlon journey as I made the switch over from a roadie to a tri bike. Since clipping in on Saturday I’ve put in over 100 kilometres in the saddle, and I think I’m in love. It’s sleek and quick and light and it’s molded to me like a glove. But this new love has come at the expense of my old flame. This week’s post isn’t about breaking through barriers, or new challenges, or epic journeys, but about remembering Red Lightning, one of the most important partners I’ve had along the way.
He was once the light that shone brightly and mighty. He was old, but full of life, and I loved him. Now he sits, torn apart and left behind like a broken lamp that has no home. I stripped his wheels, pedals and saddle, then left him there in his fading blaze of glory. As I walked past him this morning, I felt an unusual and most abnormal feeling of grief. 
Together we have conquered mountains. We have crashed together, cried together and laughed together. I’ve yelled at him and spoke softly to him. We have had bonding sessions before races, and I even hugged him after races. But most importantly during those races we could drop faster, sleeker, prettier, and pricer bikes, because together Red Lightning and I were unstoppable. He was my first road bike and in some way I feel that since we started the journey together we should end it together, but alas sometimes change is good. It seems so silly to become attached to an inanimate object, yet in a year of so many challenges and first experiences, it’s hard not to feel that connection. It does become part of the experience and, for the most part, he fared me very well. Together we rode more than 1,500 kilometres, climbed more than 15,000 metres, raced in six triathlons, called one taxi home, crashed twice and conquered the biggest challenges of my triathlon journey. I know this isn’t the end of his road, perhaps maybe it’s just a break, but nonetheless I feel it’s important that at this juncture to look back on the memories. Nonetheless, no matter where the road goes, he’ll always have a place in my heart and together we will ride again, it will just be a different journey.
Rust2Iron 