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. 
triathlon
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.
Aly’s no good, very bad bike ride
You know those days when it just feels like everything that could go wrong, goes wrong, and really insignificant obstacles or hiccups along the way feel really ginormous and apocalyptic? That was my afternoon. It was like the universe decided to poke an already emotionally and physically distraught, unrested cranky beast to see how far it could get. Well, after nearly three hours of poking and pushing I just shut the emotions off, and at the end of it all I think my brain was in Disneyland and my body was merely a physical entity taking up space.
I was feeling somewhat motivated and refreshed for a night of four-peat hills up Juniper and Todd tonight. It’s been a tough week, so when I get the spark to take on a workout I have to run with it. As I rigged up the bike I decided to strap on the Go Pro to the front handlebars for a front seat view of the ride. This way I could upload some footage and make my friends jealous of all the wild and crazy fun things I do on a Friday night, while they drink frosty cocktails on a patio. Geared up and ready to go I pushed off from the curb and barely moved one full rotation before I heard a rubbing whirring sound coming from what I thought was the front tire. Awesome. Hiccup number one and I could already feel agitation start to creep over me. So, I hopped off examined it for a minute, then hopped back on, only to hear the same sound again. I hopped back off to see that it was the back tire rubbing against the bike frame. For the next 15 minutes I was bent over, fuming over the fact that my bike was just in the shop and the wheel was totally out of alignment. As I cursed under my breath and balanced my bike between my thighs with my spandex doned ass straight up in the air, I started to hear cat calling from guys driving slowly down the road. I had to muster every ounce of restraint to not fly off at the mouth like an inbred sailor. Finally, the tire was aligned and after wasting 15 minutes I was back on the road.
As turned off the highway onto Valleyview Drive I was greeted by my second obstacle of the evening; rocks everywhere. Flash flooding from the day before had left a horrible mess and I was dodging pebbles and mini boulders all the way to Juniper and praying my tire would not flat. Rounding the corner and heading up for the first climb of the night I turned on my ipod and blocked out my agitation. At the top I felt exceptionally dehydrated from the hot sun, with only 20 minutes into the ride I had already polished off one of my two water bottles. I thought to run over to the corner store to stock up only to realize I made the boneheaded decision to not bring any cash or cards with me; rookie mistake. I would have to make like a camel and reserve. As I turned around for the descent I went to flip on my Go Pro I encountered piss off number three of the evening, the memory card was stuck in the lock position. Mother trucker. I almost hurled that thing under the oncoming tires of passing by trucks. As I mumbled more curse words I could start to feel rushing beads of sweat down my arms, legs and face, and I wondered if I would make the next hour and a half of climbing on one bottle of Gatorade. Either way, the hills still needed climbing and I was standing still, so off I went.
Obstacle number four greeted me in the form of the biggest mother of a puddle I have ever seen; another after effect from the flash floods. It was like a god damned lake had formed in the middle of the road. With the way the night was going I wagered it a bad idea to try and go through it, so I unclipped, picked up my bike and proceeded to go around it through the claylike mud. With each step I sunk deeper into the muck and I worried I just might get stuck right there and bake in the sun until dark. Once to the other side, I hopped on the bike only to realize the mud had clogged up my shoes rendering it impossible to clip back into the pedals. More swear words tumbled from my lips as I peeled the mud from my shoes and smeared it everywhere. Finally I was back in the saddle, wondering what the hell was next.
About halfway down the highway something on the bike didn’t feel right. I didn’t know what it was but I was deathly afraid of self combustion and flailing under a truck and meeting my demise. I turned off for Todd Road and had a quick inspection to discover nothing was wrong and that I was getting paranoid, and headed up for climb number two. As soon as that was over, it was back up again for climb number three, which at this point had me feeling famished and desperate for cool drops of water. As if to add torture to pain I start envisioning watermelons and smoothies, ice cold water and more big juicy watermelons. Then the smell of BBQs wafted through the air, and I almost surrendered mid pedal. As I hit the top and started my descent, I was greeted by obstacle number five in the form of a loud SHHHHHHHHH…. holy jumping mother sand trucks. There goes my back tire. I pulled over to the side of the road and kicked gravel like a mad person. I just had brand new tires installed this morning, tires that were supposed to defy all the rules and never flat, tires that cost $150! How the hell did I get a flat? Oh that’s right, the universe has a bone to pick with me. In a fleeting moment I contemplated lifting the bike over my head and hurling it over the cliff side, wiping my hands, taking off my shoes, and walking home. But instead I flipped it over, pulled out my spare, sat down in the dirt and calmed myself. Just then I started to hear rustling in the bushes and gravel rolling down the hill side. Would obstacle number six come in the form of rabid animal who would tear me into pieces? No, but It made me change the tire faster, so maybe it was the first blessing of the night. Tire back on, back to Juniper for one more climb, but not before walking back across the clay like mud, wiping my shoes and singing some Celine Dion.
With about 250 metres to the top of Juniper, as if the icing on the cake, I felt my back tire slowly go down, down, down. Well I was out of spare tires, and frankly out of patience.
A $16 cab ride later and I finally made it home, with emotions turned off and one giant watermelon in hand. When the universe tries to tell you to just go home and try again tomorrow, tell it shut the hell up and keep on going. None of this journey has been easy and I would be damned if I let a few typical bike ride mishaps falter my focus and determination. On any other week I may have just laughed in the face of it all, but with race day looming and my tired mind and body, I was easy to provoke. Tomorrow I will head to Whistler to cheer on my training partners and I know it will be the spark I need to find my motivation to get ‘er done. Here’s to buckling done and moving on, even when you want to throw a tantrum and flip off the world.
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.
Rust2Iron 