The day before the race

Tomorrow is the big race.  The BIG race.  I'll be toe-ing the line at Calgary 70.3.  It's my second half ironman, but it feels like my first.

Because, in many ways it is my first.

It is my first full triathlon of the season.  It is the first post-injury race that I will be running in.  And, it's a HALF IRONMAN.  Quite frankly, I'm afraid.

The physical training is done.  I have a swim this morning, but even that is more mental preparation then physical.  There will be no further improvement to my fitness level at this point.

So, what about the fear?  I have two main techniques I use.  The first is logic.

Logically, I'm ready for this race.  In fact, I have never felt more prepared for a swim and bike portion.  The open water swimming has really been clicking for me and I think I am at the highest level of bike fitness I have reached yet.  I'm a little disappointed that the bike course is different this year, as it gives me no opportunity for direct comparison from last year.

Then there's the run.  Well the main fear is the post injury fear.  The "what if it's not really better" fear.  Logic?  Logically, I truly believe the bone is fully healed.  I have been running on it for a month.  There is no pain from the injury point.  None.  Now, there's no more reason to believe that I will be injured in this race then at any other point in the past of future.

Sometimes, a little voice reminds me that I have not run 21.1 km for three months, but is that a fear?  When I think about it, not really.  I've run the distance many times in the past.  Physical training is important, but I've done that.    My long "runs" in lead up to this have been largely on the elliptical, but I know that they have still prepared me for this race.  It's my mental strength that is going to get me through the run.  It's not going to be easy.  It is going to hurt. But, I have the mental power to push through it.

One thing the injury experience has given me is the ability to say "I ran a half marathon on a stress fracture.  I can do this."  And, I can do this.  And I will.

So, am I still afraid?  A little bit.  Here's my other technique: Noted.

Tomorrow, I will cross the finish line of my second half ironman.

Completely unrelated to the post, here's some strawberries I picked from my garden for breakfast.

Up the Hill, up the hill...

It was about two years, and my first run with my new running friend, Krissy.  It was a great run, and we connected quickly and the conversation flowed freely.  As we ran, we approached one of the bigger hills that, given it's proximity to my house, has always been a part of many of my runs.

"I always walk this one," I said, as I pulled up to a walk.

Krissy just kept going.  Not fast, but consistent.  Steady.  Running up a hill that I had considered virtually unrunable.  When we got to the top of the hill, she mentioned having done hill repeats in the past.

"That's crazy," I stated.  "Why would I ever do that?"

Last week, I stood at the bottom of that same hill, preparing to do the hill repeats that Angie had given me.  2 minute climb, 3 minutes, 4, 3, 2 min.  (1 minute running, 1 minute walking, out of consideration of the fact I'm coming back from injury.)

And, I found out that same hill, the one, 2 years ago, I considered a huge obstacle, was actually too short.  I ran up that hill 7 times, rather then 5, in order to make up the total climbing time.

Then this week, another session of hill repeats.  It was a very similar workout, but slightly longer with two 2 minute climbs at the beginning and end of the pyramid.  I chose a different hill, a longer one, and got to it.

And loved it.  There's something incredibly satisfying about doing hill repeats.  In terms of the actual workout, it's very easy to break it down into sections.  You don't have to think about the fact you're going to run up that hill 7 times.  You just have to focus on the current 2, 3, or 4 minute interval.  Then back down.  Sadly, because of the foot, right now, I have to walk down, but I can't wait to do it when I can cruise down, get my leg turnover up, and let the hill carry me.

There's a determination when doing the repeats.  When I reach the bottom of the hill, I turn around, hit the lap button on my garmin, and go back up.  No hesitation.  Just do it.

And the satisfaction upon finishing that final climb.  It's amazing.  Total accomplishment.  It's hard, and it's worth it.

Post hill session, the sweat has partly dried, but the red face has't quite gone away.

Bloggy catch up post!

Now that I am post injury and feeling excited again, I've been wanting to get back to blogging.  The problem is, every time I think about something to blog about, I think "I should really catch up on this first" or "I should write that race report first".

Rather then trying to catch up in a bunch of individual posts, I've decided to do one mass catch up post.  Then I can go back to blogging about whatever I want.

Injury Status

1. It has now 10 weeks since being diagnosed with a stress fracture.

2. The first 4 weeks, I spent in an aircast or on crutches.

3. I did my first triathlon of the season on crutches - just before being released from the aircast.  I did the swim and bike.  My husband did the run.  I used crutches to get to the pool, and between the pool and the bike.

4. I started doing physiotherapy about 4 weeks in.  My primary concern at that point was that my calf muscle had atrophied while in the aircast.  In addition to working on the calf, we've also worked on hip strength, and core.

5. From 4-8 weeks, I was allowed to walk normally, but no running or other impact.  As my daughter informed me, that also ruled out ballet jumps.

6. 2 weeks ago, I was cleared to run.  I ran.  1 minute at a time to start, but building from there.

7. Nobody can tell me why I got the stress fracture, and I've come to accept that.  The most likely answer seems to be a combination of things.  I'm optimistic that a more balanced approach to training, which finally includes consistent core and body-weight strength work will help prevent a re-occurrence.

8. I am no longer an injured athlete.  I am playing catch up now, as my run training is not where I would have liked to see it, but I am now healthy and working towards my goals again.

Running Status

9. During the time period that I wasn't allowed to run, I logged countless hours pool running.

10. My longest pool run was 1 hour, 35 minutes.  Technically, my program said 1.5 hours, but I wanted to prove to myself that not only could I mentally endure it, I could do it even longer then I had to.

11. Pool running is boring.  But doable.  Music helps.  I was very thankful of my waterproof ipod.

12. I was cleared to run 2 weeks ago.  This was 2 months after diagnosing the stress fracture, and 1 month prior to Calgary 70.3, a Half Ironman that will be my first full triathlon this season.

13.  Since being cleared to run, I've been doing run walk intervals, the longest run intervals, so far, are up to 4 minutes.  I did accidentally run for a solid 7 minutes when I zoned out and didn't notice my garmin vibrating.

14. I don't really like run/walk intervals.  I feel like I never really get into my rhythm, but running is running, and I'll take it.  I am getting used to it, but I feel like I'm always looking at my garmin to see when I switch to running or walking.  I'd rather just run.

15. I've also been spending time on my elliptical trainer.  I'm now happy that I never got around to selling it when we bought the treadmill.  It's been a very useful tool in building back my run fitness.

15. To get me ready for Calgary 70.3, Angie has me doing some elliptical/run/elliptical workouts for my long runs.  This week it was a total of 1 hour, 35, with only the middle 25 minutes being run/walk.

16. This is going to be a real test of trusting my training, trusting my body, and trusting my head.  I've been known to train as much as 25km, for my long run, in preparation for a half marathon, simply because it assured me I could go the distance.  This time, I'm going to have to trust that a very different type of training will get me ready.

Swim status

15. Initially, my doctor only gave me permission to swim with a pull buoy, as long as I didn't push off the wall with my injured foot.

16. Since going back to swimming without the buoy, I've been very aware of my hips sinking.  At first, I thought it was because I'd come to rely on the buoy.  I've more recently concluded that I just got really used to being in the proper position, so the extra awareness is valuable.

17. I think I've gotten a little lazy on my kick.

18. My feel for the water has improved.  I really think I'm continuing to become more aware of the water around me and the effect my body has on it and in it.

19. It was when I returned to a double foot push off that I really felt like I got my rhythm back in the water.  While I realize there's no push off in open water, doing it in the pool gets me into the correct position and gives me a taste of speed which I can then strive to maintain.

Bike status

20. Being injured hurt my bike training somewhat, although to a much lesser degree then running.

21. Initially, I did my biking on the trainer with very low torque and high cadence.

22. When I got back on my bike outdoors, I found myself spinning much higher then before.  It's mostly good, as my cadence has always been lower then it should be.  However, I have to remind myself to take a gear sometimes.

23. I struggled a lot initially with confidence on the downhills.  This is where the indoor riding really hurt me.

24. Angie did a bike skills session with a few of us.  It made an amazing difference.  I discovered that I was mounting/dismounting incorrectly and had been since I started riding.  She had the most horrified expression when she saw how I was doing it.  We also worked a lot on cornering, and leaning rather then turning the handlebars.

25. Since then, I'm also feeling better about descending.  I've realized that a big part of my difficulty was my lack of confidence in my ability to maneuver.  I still need to work on it, but I'm staying off the brakes far more.

26. I'm starting to like hill repeats.  It's hard work, but there's incredible satisfaction in getting to the top and defeating the hill.  It's also an opportunity to work on descending.

27. A mere two weeks ago, I was convinced that I had slowed down on the bike.  Today, I am confident that I am a stronger cyclist then I was a year ago.  Despite the stress fracture.  I have Angie, my coach, to thank for a lot of that.  I can't wait to see how much improvement I can gain in an uninjured season.

Life and Training Status

28. Spud has recently finished kindergarten and Sweetpea has now completed preschool.

29. My training schedule is packed in the build up to Calgary 70.3.  I have a 20 day stretch with no rest days.  Having said that, I have 2 days a week which are "legs off" days, with only a swim.  I actually kind of like not having rest days.

29. For the month of July, they are both in daycamps.  Sweetpea is only in half days, but even so, it gives me between 2.5 and 3 hours a day to train.

30. I am sleeping better then I have in years.  Probably better then I have since before my first pregnancy - 7 years ago.  I think it's due to getting lots of activity in, without having to make much of that activity evening workouts.

31. Last weekend my husband and children were in a car accident.  Thank goodness, it was a low speed collision.  They are all fine , uninjured and healthy.

32. The car is not so healthy.  It is not driveable at highway speeds.  We live in a town, outside the city that my husband commutes to for work.  Some of my kids daycamps, and many of our summer activities are also located outside of town.  This has made me a taxi driver, in addition to everything else.

Race Status

33. I have only had to outright cancel one of my planned races - a 10k that was supposed to take place mid-May, about a week after confirming the stress fracture.

34. I have done the swim/bike portion of three triathlons this season.

35. The first one was the Vulcan Sprint, where my husband did the run.

36. The second was at the Chinook triathlon festival, where they have an aquabike option, so I did the olympic distance for the swim/bike.

37. The most recent one, this past weekend was Great White North, a half Iron distance race.  I did the swim/bike again, with my good friend Krissy doing the run portion.

38. Great White North was supposed to be my "A" race for this season.  It's not anymore.

39. Calgary 70.3 is now my "A" race.  I have 2 weeks left to prepare and I'm feeling confident.

40. Due to the recent flooding in Calgary, the swim is now in a different location, meaning the bike is completely different.

41. I'm a little disappointed that I won't be able to compare my bike performance from last year to this year.  Realistically though, wind can play such a huge role on the bike, that such comparisons are limited regardless.

42. I haven't yet decided what comes next.  I need to finish the 70.3 before I'll be ready to decide.

43. One thing I do know is that I have my fire back.  I've had some challenges, but I love the sport of triathlon.

Sometimes the best lessons come from the hardest days

Last Sunday was a team ride and BBQ.  I seriously considered doing my scheduled 4 hour ride solo, but that seemed silly.  The team was doing a 4 hour ride, and while I've recognized that I'm intimidated by group riding, I've also recognized that it's a step I need to take.  Out of my comfort zone?  Good.  We should all leave our comfort zones on a regular basis.

The first half of the ride went well for me, but I made some serious execution mistakes.  Partly in biking harder then I should have, and partly in not fueling or hydrating properly.  2 hours in, we returned to our starting point to pick up the people that were doing a shorter ride.  I felt good at that point.  After all, a 2 hour ride is fairly forgiving of those errors in execution.  A 4 hour ride?  Um...

Even the next hour, I was doing okay, but I was getting tired.  I could push through this, I figured.  It's mental.

As I braked my way down the hills and worked my way up the hills, the gap between the rest of the group and me opened up considerably.  I started feeling really alone, and as I struggled up a hill, I started questioning whether I could really do this.  What kind of imposter was I?  I couldn't even keep up on what I knew was an easy ride for most of the group.

And as I kept going up that hill, my heart rate spiking, it was like my throat was closing off and I couldn't breath.  Except, I really felt like I couldn't breath.  I realized that I wasn't just breathing hard, but I was actually wheezing.

Then the group starting coming back on the other side of the highway.

I put my feet down and starting fumbling in my bike bag for my inhaler.  The inhaler that I always have, but never use, because my asthma is extremely well controlled.  (On a side note, I later realized that the control medication I used that morning and the day before may have been empty.)

As the group continued to pass me, some of them called to ask if I was okay.  "I'm good." I called back.  "I'm okay."

The actor in me.  The desire not to show weakness.  Trying to hold up the walls.

And as more people passed, I started to cry.  Damn it.  What was wrong with me?  Hold it together.  I halfway turned my back.  Must convince everyone that I'm alright.

"I'm okay," I called again, as my voice broke.

"No, you're not," I heard.  Relief and embarrassment washed over me.

Teammates Leslie-Anne and Leana crossed the highway and waited with me as I had a complete and total meltdown.  I couldn't even explain what the problem was.  I don't think I consciously knew at this point.  One of them told me to eat something.  It helped a bit, but there was no automatic fix at that point.  I kept apologizing.  Very Canadian of me.  Leana reassured me that I had made it up the hill.

"Yeah, but now I have to go back down," I said.  Yes, that's right.  I said down.  I felt like my confidence was shot, and in that moment, going down that hill was even scarier to me then the idea of climbing back up the next one.

Once I had calmed down, we started back up.  As I braked my way down the hill, I saw the huge gap that immediately opened up between me and the others.  I realized just how much speed I give up by using my brakes.  (On a side note, I don't actually ride my brakes the whole way.  I've read that can heat things up and cause a blow out.)  But, I do use them far, far more then necessary.  And, at this point, I was using them even more then normal.

Riding back up another hill, my legs just felt empty.  Like there was nothing left in them.  Dummy.  Fueling properly could have made a world of difference here.  I felt like I could barely keep up a normal cadence.

I limped along, and Leslie-Anne, Leana and Neil stuck with me until we caught the main group.  Then I rode with Toni, another teammate that has become something of a mentor to me.  I was at the back of the pack, which I'm okay with, and I was only just keeping my body going.  Toni stuck with me and we chatted while we rode.  Then, with only 10 or so minutes left, my leg seized up on me.

I'd been feeling the twitchy-ness that sometimes precedes muscle cramps for a while, but I wasn't quite prepared for how hard it hit me.  Calf and feet cramps I can handle, but when it hits anywhere in the upper leg, I find it excruciating.  I tried to pedal through it, but it just wasn't happening.  We stopped off, so I could stretch out a bit.

And I had another meltdown.

It was just a muscle cramp, right?  Why was I doing this?  Why was it such a big deal?

Except it wasn't.  I started talking and most of what came out had nothing to do with the ride itself.  Yes, I had executed the ride poorly.  Physically, that had been hard on my body.  But, mentally, I just wasn't holding together, for reasons largely unrelated to that day's ride.

I was afraid I was going to get injured again.  I was afraid that I had slowed down.  My calf muscle had atrophied.  It's still nowhere near equal size.  Surely, that was going to hurt me?  What if I couldn't make cut off times in the 70.3?  A month?  I have a month to build up to a half ironman run?  I've slowed down.  Even on the bike.  What if I don't make cut off times?  The bike.  I was afraid I wouldn't make the cut off.  My foot.  What if it's not really healed?  What if I can't keep running?

There was so much negativity stemming from my fear and it just spilled out of me.  Once I had talked myself out, we finished the ride and went to the bbq.  It was good times, with family and friends.  The day was an excellent lesson in why we have a team in what is an individual sport.

It was later when I talked to Angie, my coach, that I really started getting perspective.

Being afraid is nothing new to me.  One of the reasons I decided to do triathlon was because it scared me.  Deep water scared me.  It scared me to put myself out there.  It scared me to try something difficult.  I've been doing scary things for years now.

But, this time, I was letting the negativity take over.  I was taking that fear and letting it beat me down, rather then using it to propel myself forward.

And speaking of forward, I was inventing worries that hadn't even arrived yet.  By the end of the conversation, we concluded that one of my tasks was to live in the moment, and train in the moment.  Stop worrying about the race that is a month away.  Do my scheduled training.  Look ahead to the next day to make sure I can fit everything in, but stop obsessing about it.

Will I get injured again?  Probably?  At some point.  Most endurance athletes do.  Will it be another stress fracture?  Who knows.  But whether it's going to happen or not, it won't do any good to worry about it.  What I can do is work to maintain a balance.  Strengthen some muscles that have been identified as needing it, and keep training.

Sure, I'm scared.  Noted.  Moving on.  It's time to let go of the injured persona I've been stuck in and carry on.

Bring your running shoes

"Bring your running shoes to your next appointment," my physiotherapist said last week.

The race chip is still on my pink shoes, since my last race was the last time I ran.  The one shoe is still laced funny to take stress off the part of my foot that was sore.  The part of my foot that turned out to harbour a stress fracture.

Today I find out if I get to run again.  If I get to lace up those babies, a solid two months since my last run.

I'm bringing my running shoes.

Race Day! Chinook Aquabike

I am off to the races.  Packed my bags and put them in the car last night.  Made a list of anything still in the house I had to remember: garmin, hydration, inhaler, bike...  Yes, I put "bike" on that list.  It seems obvious, but boy, would I feel dumb if I forgot my bike.

And now, the traditional pre race picture of me looking crazy:

I am bib 404, which my husband tells me means "website not found".  Now he can think of me anytime he sees that number.  :)

Race goals:

1. Stay calm in the swim.

2. Don't hurt myself.  It is not worth extra recovery time, just to run to transition.  Besides, I read my race report last year, and it seems my delicate feet didn't want to run much anyways as I found the surface a bit rough.

3. Push myself on the bike.  I am of the opinion that I tend to play it overly safe on the bike, so I don't blow up on the run.  Today, there is no run.

4. Don't let the uncontrollable get to me.

5. Savour the finish line.

I miss running

I have a lot of things to blog about: A very overdue race report for Vulcan (which was awesome, by the way),  a celebration about my aircast being off, some thoughts on a run program at my son's school, preparation for an upcoming race.  But, none of those things are what I feel like talking about today, and since it's my blog, I get to talk about what I want.

I miss running.

Even though my blog has been quiet, I've been happily going through the steps of normal life.  I've settled into a routine.  I've put in lots of hours at the pool, both swimming and water running.  I'm loving the outdoor rides, after being cooped up on the trainer at the start of this injury.

If you happen to know me in real life, I can joke about this injury with a smile and a laugh.  Cheerful self deprecation at my bone headedness in running through it without cluing into the fact it was a stress fracture.  I'll tell you that I'm thrilled just to be able to walk normally again right now.  And I am.

But, I miss running.

It's a desperate yearning I have.  I live across the street from a pathway access and I see runners go by all the time.  I no longer feel the jealous vindictiveness I did at first, but I want them to take me with them.  I want to return to my riverside pathways.  I want to run easy.  I want to run hard.  Heck, I'd happily take a hill run, a treadmill run, or even a track run.

I want to feel the wind in my hair, the runners high.  I want the brutally hard run that I have to force myself to finish, because I want to relive the feeling I get after finishing one of those runs.  I want to run fast.  I want to run with a friend, chatting away.

I just want to run.

Right now, I know I'm almost there.  Yet, somehow that makes me feel more desperate.  My foot isn't quite healed enough.  I know it.  And, as desperately as I want to run, I also desperately want to be able to keep running once I restart.

The truth is, this is good.  I'm no life long athlete.  I don't have decades of running in my history.  I have three years.  And, a month and a half is a long time in those three years.  I've always been afraid that if I stopped running, I would never start again, because I would stop wanting it.  That has not happened.

Because, when I can run again, I will.

Because, I miss running.