The decision not to do Ironman

My blog has been repeatedly quiet over the last year.  Repeatedly, I've come back and tried to catch up.  "Still on the way to Ironman!" I'd say.

Now, it's time to say, I'm not.  Not right now.  I made the decision around 6 weeks ago, but have been missing the words to put it into a post.

In the last year, my life has changed and shifted.  In March of this year, my family moved to a different province and a different lifestyle.  We left Cochrane and moved to an acreage in the West Kootenays of British Columbia.

And with the move, I found my focus changing.  We had bought a homestead, with the garden of my dreams.

We were in the middle of the mountains, with little trails to explore.

My own backyard often held the makings of breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I continued to train for triathlons.  I made some running and triathlon friends.  I had some awesome races, and some character building races.

But, as time went on, more and more, the magic was just missing.

There were other things I wanted to do and could never seem to fit in.  I found myself saying no to too many things.  Berries went unpicked and seeds unplanted.  I didn't explore places with my kids, like I'd hoped to, over the summer break.  No, I can't go on that hike today.  A bike ride on the trail after I've just done hill repeats?  I don't think so.

I have always said that you have to enjoy training.  We all have workouts that we don't feel like and push through.  But, the majority should be fun or satisfying or rewarding.  They weren't.

I wasn't loving it anymore.  I was resenting it.  Sometimes even dreading it.

I walked into my husband's office and once again started a "I'm not sure I still want to do Ironman" conversation with him.  We'd had the conversation before.  It had always ended with the decision to carry on.  This time it didn't.  This time the conclusion I came to was that doing Ironman Arizona in 2014 was no longer the right decision for me.

The decision wasn't without tears, but when it came down to it, the biggest feeling I had was that of relief, which is why I am confident that this was the right decision.

I strongly believe that life is about balance.  Part of finding balance is about going through periods where the balance shifts.  The balance has shifted for me.  For 4 years, triathlon was a central focus after my family.  Now, that focus has changed.

Is triathlon still in the cards for me?  Yes.  For a couple weeks, I took a complete break from it all.  Then, I started casually running.  Then, I started feeling that drive reawakening in me.  I will race next year, but they won't be the half iron distances of my previous three years.  I'll do sprints and maybe Olympic distance races.  Allowing myself to get my training done in a time frame that works for everything else in my life.

Is Ironman still in the cards for me?  I think so.  But, maybe, maybe not.

I do know one thing though.  Happiness is in the cards for me.  I just have to reach out for it.

Cyswog'n fun race report - the one where I broke my bike...

Sometimes, life sends you a message.  This weekend, in an Olympic distance race, among other things, the message it sent me was that I needed to blog again.  Because this was a race report begging to be written...

While not my first race of the season, this is THE local race in the area I've just moved to.  It's a gorgeous course in the middle of the mountains.  Hilly, so not one where you're likely to set a personal best, but the hills give it variety and add fun.  The organization of this course and the enthusiasm of the volunteers is top notch.

Race morning was relaxed and happy.  I was up early to eat breakfast and head out.  Got a gorgeous picture of mountain peace on the early morning ferry ride.

Once there, I was in a great mood.  I love the race morning energy.  I have done some of my training with a local triathlon group, and it was awesome seeing all the people I knew.  I also found a couple of people who are members of my Alberta triathlon group.  I am incredibly blessed to be part of two amazing triathlon families.

Getting body marked by Ali, one of my Mountain Spirit teammates.

With Brent and Yvonne, Team Trilife teammates.

Some race morning nerves, but just the right amount.  Enough to give me energy without getting in the way of positivity.  Before long it was go time!

I had a stellar swim.  35:08.  My garmin measured the course as being a bit long, but open water swims are what they are.  It's also possible that I swam crooked.  :)  Had good feet, and felt really strong.  I found out later that I knew the person whose feet I swam on, as well as the person who I kind of edged out to get on their feet.  (I didn't intentionally edge her out, but it did happen.)

Coach Angie had told me to hammer the bike.  Truth is, I usually play it safe on the bike, so this was different for me.  Hammer the bike, manage the run.  Those were big parts of my race plan.

I loved the bike course.  A lot of it was along the edge of a lake.  Lots of rolling hills.  No seriously steep ones, but definitely enough to keep you interested.  I was biking hard, though at an effort level that I expected to be able to maintain.  A couple times I considered how much this bike could make the run hurt, but I pushed those thoughts off to the side.

 Unfortunately, it seems I hammered it hard enough to break my bike...

I was approaching the end, and only had 3 km to go.

TWANG!  Broken spoke.  I knew immediately that had to be it.  I'd had a broken spoke a couple weeks prior and never knew when it happened.  Google told me that I should have heard a huge twang.  This time, that's exactly what I did hear.

 I got off my bike and took a look. As I thought, broken spoke.  With only 3 km left, I thought I'd be able to ride it in easy.  That wasn't happening.  The wheel was jamming, obviously it was nowhere near true anymore.  It wasn't jamming in the brakes, so opening them up didn't help.  It was jamming in the frame itself.

"Only 3 km." 3 km is such a short distance when you are on your bike.  Suddenly, I knew that my bike was not going to carry me the rest of the way to transition.  Fact.  Whatever choice I made was based upon that fact.

This is where I am really happy with my reaction.  I stayed totally calm and assessed the situation.  I was "only" about 3 km away from the bike finish.  I couldn't ride my bike.  The race time was about 2 hours in.  Cut off for the race is 4 hours.  I took a moment to consider if I could walk 3 km in socked feet and then run 10 km within the time I had.  (Walking in bike shoes, particularly in my speedplay cleats was not an option.)

I decided I could.  Unfortunately, I couldn't even roll my bike.  So, I carried it.  About 2 km.  People kept asking if I needed a spare tire.  I know how to change a spare!  If only that was what it was.

With about 1 km to go, there was a volunteer out on a bike.  He offered to trade bikes.  I took him up on it.  Fortunately, the remainder of the bike was either flat or downhill, because I could neither clip in or figure out how to change gears.  (He carried my bike back to transition and switched bikes.)  Vince, a really amazing person.

1:50:19 on the bike, including both transitions, which I had at 3:10 and 1:40.

I knew I was very close to last.  There is a guy that does the race every year, and comes in last, so nobody else will.  I knew he wasn't far behind me.  I acknowledged that thought and let it go.

The run was hot and hilly.  I stayed steady and strong on it.  I was feeling a bit fried, but held on through the whole thing.  I was happy, and I smiled.  The volunteers were amazing.  I've never seen such great positivity from volunteers, even when it was so late in the race.  The threw water at me when I asked, and there were a couple people out with hoses on the course.  It helped a lot to deal with the temperature.  It wasn't my fastest run, but I finished it with everything I had.

1:15:08 on the run.

This is one of those races that reminded me why I do triathlon.  It brought back the magic for me.  The magic that I've been reaching for and getting hints of.  The magic that isn't magic at all, but rather is the strength I carry within myself.  The strength that I found a well of when I needed to reach for it.

Blog revival on my 4 year runniversary

Hello out there!

I think my blog has had one of it's biggest quiet periods ever.  For good reason.  My family has been in the midst of a major change.  A move between provinces.  From town to country.  To an acreage in paradise.  I've been busy.

And a bit at a time, I've explored my new surroundings on my wheels and in my running shoes.

A ride on a sunny day

My first run in my new home.  Before everything turned green, but beautiful regardless

Everybody's definition of paradise is a bit different.  Mine includes mountains, and a climate conducive to gardening.  Places to ride and run and swim.  I have all of those now.

Since arriving, I've planted part of my huge garden, and watched my fruit trees blossom.  I've joined a local triathlon group.  It's largely a beginner group, and there's so much excitement in seeing soon-to-be new triathletes work towards their first race.  At the same time, there's also some seasoned triathletes in the group who have already given me excellent feedback on training routes and I am hopeful may become new training partners.

I have done two races.  A 10K race where I came DFL (dead f-ing last).  More on that in a future post, but let me just say that there is honour in being the last person across a finish line.  Yesterday, I did an 18km race through wineries.

Today marks the 4 year mark from the first day I went for a run.  Four years since I stopped saying "I can't".  For the last 4 years, I've been confronting my fears and inhibitions.  The journey has been amazing and it's far from over.

I didn't feel like blogging till now.  I just felt like living and experiencing.  Now, I am ready to add reflecting and writing to my list.  So, I think I can safely say that DebTris is getting a revival.

Changes...

Anybody that has following me lately may have noticed that there's been nothing to follow for quite some time.  I've made a few attempts to revive my blog, but keep falling short and not getting back to it.  I've hinted at major life changes that are distracting me.

So, now that things are fairly settled, it's time to come out with the major life change.

A big move.

We are moving away from Cochrane, the town we live in, which is right next to the fairly big city of Calgary.

We are moving to a small community in the West Kootenay area of British Columbia.  Trading in mountains in the skyline for being surrounded by mountains.  Giving up my river pathways for different river pathways, though they are unlikely to be paved unless I make the drive into one of the cities (which are smaller then the "town" I currently live in).

Giving up our small urban lot for 1.5 acres of gardens, fruit trees, and play space.

A view of part of our new backyard.  Even with the garden space, our kids will have many times the amount of space to run around.

I couldn't be more excited.

So, what does this mean for my triathlon plans?

Ironman is still on baby!  The climate is milder, so it's likely I'll get more outdoor riding in at both ends of the season.  Running will be a bit different.  There's no paved pathway system, so I'll be doing some running on roads, some on trails.  There's a couple "rails to trails" in the area that should give me lots of pathway to run along.

There are lots of lots of hills which I'll be running and biking on.  Ironically, I'm signed up for one of the flattest Ironman races in the circuit, and I've moved to a very hilly place to train in.  Hill work is speedwork in disguise, right?  The pools in the area actually have much better lane swim times then the restrictive ones in Cochrane, so even though it's a longer drive, it will be easier to schedule.  Plus, there's more places to swim in the open water.

So, what does it mean for the blog?  Right now I'm not making any promises for the next month.  I'll blog when I'm moved to do so, but I'm not putting pressure on myself to keep it up.  I've thought about the reasons I blog, and even though I enjoy my "audience", I do it for myself.  It's a place for me to share thoughts, and writing focuses and calms me.

I do expect the blog to have a resurgence once we get settled after the move.  I'm excited to find new places to run and ride, and getting to know the new pool that I'll be frequenting.  We move at the end of March, so it's a quick timeline.

Facing that moment when your dream becomes the goal

A snippet from May 18, 2010:

"Next summer, I'd like to do a triathlon. 

Overly ambitious? Maybe. For one, I can barely swim, so I'll need to take lessons and get some serious practice in. I also don't run. I'm still worried about the impact the extra weight I'm carrying will have on my knees. I do bike and I figure the 70 pounds of kids I pull in the trailer is a bonus for training.

I am setting a goal that I don't know if I can complete. But, I do know one thing. This time I'm going to try. Actually try."

Three and a half year ago was the first day that I dreamed about the world of triathlon.  Setting the goal to do one was almost a whim.  I wanted to think of something really hard.  Something that pushed me.  Something where I was going to have conquer some of my "can't"s.

So, rather then pick a single thing, I picked three, in the sport of triathlon.  I had never ran, and I was terrified of deep water.  I'd say it fulfilled my challenging requirement as well as defeating the voice that used to say "I can't do that".

When telling people about my triathlon goal, I remember saying more then once "I'm not going to do an Ironman or anything."  The very idea was crazy at first.  Then gradually it became less crazy.  Then one day, it became a dream.  It was a year before I did my first sprint triathlon and by then I was "dreaming of Iron".

Now, it's more then a dream.  It's a goal.  Because I am officially signed up for Ironman Arizona 2014.

I've had moments of being terrified and moments of not thinking about it.  The Deb from 4 years ago would have told you it was impossible.  I am a different Deb.

One of the most valuable lessons I've learned from triathlon is how to break things down into pieces.  I'm not doing Ironman today.  Today, I am going for a swim and then doing core work.  Tomorrow an indoor spin and short run.  One day at a time and one workout at a time.  Pieces that put together will eventually form a ladder towards my big goal.

Ironman.

Getting ready for today's step.  The swim.

Big News - taking things one step at a time

I'm going away for a weekend trip on Friday, to Arizona.

Those of you that are plugged into the triathlon community may already recognize the significance of a trip to Arizona this weekend.

I'm going there to enjoy some time in the sun, spend some time with friends, swim outdoors, run in a tanktop, volunteer at an Ironman...

And sign up for Ironman Arizona 2014.

Last night I had a minor panic about it it.

"I'm not ready to do an Ironman."

It's true.  I'm really not.  I've never run more then 25 km at a time.  My longest bike rides are probably in the 100 km range.  The lane swim times in my town often only last an hour, and I'm not a fast enough swimmer to get 4000 metres in that time.  (Because let's be honest, I won't swim straight enough to keep it down to 3.9km).

Fact: I am not ready to do an Ironman
Fact: I am not doing an Ironman - yet.

See, the beauty of Ironman sign up is that you usually make the decision a year ahead of time.  When I picture the reality of doing the 140.6 miles, it makes me feel incredibly overwhelmed.  When I think about what I have to do this week, or this month, it's all doable steps.  In fact, if there's a life lesson triathlon has taught me, it's to look at big projects as steps, rather then one overwhelming thing.

I've often had conversations with people that think a half marathon is a big deal.  It's really not, I tell them.  I honestly maintain that the hardest steps I ever took when it came to endurance was going from 0 to 5 km, rather then 5 to 20.  After that, it was a matter of building on what I already had.

I'm not quite convinced an Ironman is the same.  It's a whole lot longer then any race I've ever done before.  Distance-wise, double.  Mentally, I suspect it's more then double.  I expect I'll learn a lot in the year I take to prepare.

Knowing when to be smart and when to be tough

Today is race day.  I won't be making it to the starting line.

I was supposed to be doing my second half marathon of the fall, the Last Chance Half.  I was excited about it, and feeling ready.  Honestly, I was expecting to set a PB, but I was expecting to put out a solid performance and prove to myself once again that I have got this.  I am a runner.

Until Friday.  When my stomach went into rebellion.  Which continued on Saturday.  It wasn't like some of the full fledged stomach bugs I've had.  After the intial couple hours, I've actually felt almost normal - as long as I don't eat and don't move around much.

I sent Angie, my coach, an email yesterday morning.  I told her I had a stomach bug and I wasn't sure where it put me for race day.  I mentioned that I'd dropped a couple pounds.  (Now, getting closer to race weight might make you faster, but not so much in the two days before the race.)  I told her that if I was feeling good race morning, I expected to race.  If I couldn't eat a proper breakfast, I definitely wouldn't.  I acknowledged the grey area in between those.

Angie also raised the concern that if I wasn't eating much the day before the race, I was put myself into a calorie hole that could get me into trouble on race day.

I spent a lot of time thinking about it.  Was I really sick enough to warrant a DNS (do not start)?  I could do this race.  I know I could.  I'm tough.

Yes.  I'm tough.  I've proved that.  Twice, I've done half marathons when I shouldn't have gone to the starting line.  Once, in a blizzard, where people broke bones on the race course.  Once, when I started the race with a broken bone, in the form of a stress fracture in my foot.

When it comes to training, I'm pretty smart.  When it comes to racing, I get into a mode where the only thing that matters is the race.  I forget smart and focus on tough.

Maybe it's time to learn a bit of balance.  Maybe the universe is teaching me a lesson.

One thing that hit me in Angie's email was this phrase: "You don't need to prove anything to anyone Deb."  My initial response was: "just to myself."  There's a little part of me that still feels like I'm Deb, the fat girl.  There's a part of me that is still in awe of the fact that I even can run.  It's like I still need to be reminded of it.

But, I don't.  I don't need to prove, even to myself, that I am capable of doing a half marathon.  I've done that 6 times, if I include my half ironman runs.  (And I'm definitely going to include them.)

Don't get me wrong, skipping this race is hard for me.  There's a reason it's called the "Last Chance Half Marathon".  It is the last half marathon of the season in this area.  It's not like in the spring where there's one almost every weekend.

But it doesn't change who I am or what I can do.  It has no long term effect on my training.  I am Deb.  I am a runner.  I am a triathlete.  I am tough.  I am also smart.

Sometimes it's harder to be smart then it is to be tough.

Working on my winter skin

The first winter I was a runner, I was super tough.  I was hardcore.  I ran in -30c (-22f).  I remember ice globules on my eye lashes and using vaseline on exposed skin.  Nothing was going to stop me from getting my run in, and only rarely would I head to the town's indoor track, due to truly icy conditions.

Then I got soft.

Two winters ago, we got a treadmill.  Then last winter, in addition to that, I was working at a sports centre, which had an indoor track.  And, I ran much of the winter indoors.

Now, indoor running has it's place - mainly slippery conditions or times when you are stuck at home (like if you're a parent and don't have anyone to watch the kids).  If you live in a climate that gets a true winter, you really can't spend the whole winter running indoors.

In fact, in searching for the "why" of last spring's stress fracture, I identified all my indoor running as one of the possible factors.  You just don't use the same stabilizing muscles when you are running on a nice even track or treadmill.  So, perhaps when I did go back to running outside full time, my body just wasn't ready for it?  Granted, I don't know that it was a contributor, but the very possibility is motivation to bundle up and get outside.

Yesterday's run was just a short one.  30 minutes, with pick ups every 3-4 minutes.  It was around -8c (17f).  The weather website said it was a few degrees colder, with windchill, but there didn't seem to be much wind at all.  It's not really that cold, by our standards, but at the beginning of winter, it seems moreso.  Runner Leana talks about getting our "winter skin" and I like that analogy.  By February, a day like this will be positively balmy.  So, I went out and ran.

There are things you have to keep in mind.  Most important is to watch your footing.  I had to skip the pathways as they hadn't been cleared yet, and appeared to be pure ice.  So, I ran on sidewalks instead.  Fortunately, most people in my neighbourhood are pretty good about clearing sidewalks.

It did mean I would walk a bit when I hit icy sections and I only did my speed pick ups when I was confident I had a nice long clear section ahead of me.  I will add speedwork to the list of reasons to possibly run inside.  It would be challenging to do really structured speedwork when you have to slow down every time you cross a street or go over an icy driveway.

Always beware of patches of snow.  The snow may not be slippery, but it can cover up icy patches.  Part of that is being aware of the recent conditions.  If snow has just fallen on dry pavement, you're probably fine, but if it was wet snow, or it's thawed and refrozen, you need caution.

I haven't had luck with traction aids.  My first year I used yak trax, which were okay, but broke after about a dozen runs.  I also had another one that was kind of like little thumb tacks, but I lost 3-4 of them in my very first run in them, and didn't feel like they helped traction much anyways.  I may look at getting a winter specific pair of running shoes at some point, but I find the best things is just to pay attention.  If you do use traction aids, don't let them fool you into a false sense of security.

When it comes down to it, nothing beats a good outdoor run.  Indoor running is better then nothing, but outdoor running is where it's at.  Even if you have to dress a bit warmer to do it.

The perfect running shoes

Have you found the perfect pair of running shoes?

For quite some time, I wasn't sure they existed.  Every time I bought running shoes, I made sure I could return them, just in case they didn't feel good while running.  They were always okay.  Just okay.  There were a couple of pairs I even considered taking back on my first run, but after a couple more decided to keep them.

My first pair of shoes gave me black toenails.  Like much of the population, I had spent most of my life buying shoes a bit small.  You can get away with small shoes sometimes, but it becomes very obvious when you run in them.  It didn't help that my feet are bigger then women's shoes sometimes are made.  Fortunately, most running shoes do come in size 11 now, so once I identified the problem, the black toenails became rare.

My shoes were always okay.  I figured that was as good as it got.

Until last Christmas, when I bought two new pairs of shoes.  One was a fabulously bright pink pair of Saucony Guide 6's that I wasn't sure I could pull off.  They felt great on my feet though, so I bought them.

And loved them.

These shoes were the perfect shoes.  They fit like a dream.  Good for short runs, or long runs.  Fast or slow.  Really, I just didn't notice them much.  The other pair I had bought at the same time has a narrower toe box, and while I kept them in rotation, in comparison to my fabulous Sauconys, they just didn't measure up.

And the bright pink?  I grew to love it.  It was like saying "I'm a runner!" every time I wore them.  And when I was coming back from my injury, the shoes reminded me of that fact every time I put them on.

Sadly, the time has come to retire them.  I don't keep accurate mileage on my shoes anymore, but I can always tell when they are done.  These ones are sadly done.

I ordered 3 more pairs of guide 6s online, but sadly they ran out of them.  They are giving me Guide 7s for the super price I should have got the 6s for.  I'm a bit nervous about that.  They aren't quite the same shoe, after all.  I can only hope they are the same level of perfection.

So, have you found the perfect shoe?  Do you buy extras when you do?

Grabbing hold before a slip becomes a fall

I've been struggling lately.  Now, I'm grabbing hold.

After Calgary 70.3, I took most of August off.  It was the right decision.  I needed a break from the routine and I needed to really want to get back at it.  It worked.

When I went into September, I was excited and ready to go.  Kindergarten year!  Plenty of easily accessed childfree training time!  A 10K in a few weeks, a couple half marathons.  A weekend trip to Arizona in November.  I was prepared to have a great fall season.

And then it didn't quite go how I planned.  The first few weeks were good.  Things were clicking, and I was getting back into it.  How glorious it was to be able to just run again, and not be afraid anymore about whether my foot was actually better.  I no longer felt the need to constantly think about it.  No more niggles from there.

Then I did my first race: The Melissa's 10K, one that I never did get a race report up for.  (It actually is half written, but I never finished it.)

Here's the short story:

Last year, I did this race in just over an hour, so I decided I could do it in just under an hour this year.  Never mind the fact that I spent months either injured or on reduced activity while recovering from that injury...

I pushed myself from the start, and it's a hard course.  You run up a mountain, literally.  At the half way point, I was suffering, but by then you are going downhill, so I figured I could make up time.  At the 7 km mark, I was still pushing.  At the 8km mark, I puked.  Yes, 2 km too soon.  Then I finished it off at a much reduced pace, crossing the finish line about 5 minutes past the hour mark.

The race itself wasn't what did me in though.  Interestingly, I was okay with my finishing time.  I had one of those "look how far I've come" moments.  I reflected on my first 10k, not even 3 years ago, when I finished in a hard fought 1:06.  To be able to finish a much tougher course, on a bad day, in 1:05, really is an accomplishment.

It was training after that did me in.

Because after that race, I started to push myself to run at the pace that I used to be able to run at.  We talk about competition and comparisons all the time.  The only person you should compare yourself to is yourself, right?  And that's what I was doing.  I wasn't trying to keep up with my 20 year old track star self.  I was simply trying to keep up with myself from a year or two ago.

And I couldn't do it.  I'd start out most of my runs too fast, fade badly and finish, frustrated that, once again, I just couldn't hold the pace.  I was falling apart.

Meanwhile a lot has been going on in my family life.  Not bad.  Just changes.  And, quite frankly, I prefer stability.  (This is all a blog post for another time.)

I couldn't figure out how to right myself, how to get back on track.  Finally, I had a good long chat with Angie, my coach.

Getting back on track:

No more pace on my garmin for now.  I am still using it, but the dominant number I'm watching on it is my heart rate.  Pace is recorded, but it isn't displayed.

Getting my food back in line.  I slipped there too.  It's a symptom for me, when things start coming apart, but it can become a disease in and of itself.  Track what I eat.  Base my meals on protein and vegetables.  I still eat plenty of carbs, but the key for me is not to base my food choices around them.  Cut out the sugar.

I've had some good runs.  And a good half marathon.  It was a really challenging course too.  It would have been so easy to blow up on the many hills, but I held an even effort for the race, rather then an even pace.  It let me finish strong.

I haven't felt like I'm quite there yet.  And, tonight, while participating in a spin class with my team, I realized the missing element.  Reaching out to my support structure.  Blogging about my training.  Finding opportunities to train with friends.  I am, and always will be, primarily a solo triathlete.  The time I train alone helps me find my centre, but I also need to run with a friend sometimes or suffer next to each other on trainers.

Deb Tris is back.

Water running...

So, once I got past my stress fracture, I figured I was done with water running for a while.  Not so.  Just a different kind of water running today...

Today I had 12 km (7.5mi) on the plan.  It was pouring rain.  Whether to do the run wasn't the question, but I did have some options.

Theoretically, I could do it on the treadmill.  That option was discarded pretty quickly.  The treadmill is a great tool when I have no childcare or the paths are actually unsafe (too icy), but neither was the case today.

I could wait until this evening to do it, when it might, maybe, stop raining.  But, I never feel like training in the evening.  I do it anyways regularly, but I much prefer to get it done early in the day.  There's no way I'd want to do it more in the evening.

So, I headed out for a run in the rain.  I actually enjoy running in the rain once I'm going.  There are a few considerations to take into account:

Clothing: The temperature wasn't actually that cold, so I just wore a long sleeved shirt and accepted I'd get wet.  I rarely bother with an actual rain jacket.  Even if they say they are breathable, I find they rarely are.  For me, I usually find that dressing as though it's 5 to 10 degrees cooler works.

Warm up: If you go outside and start running right away, you're probably fine.  I don't.  I generally walk for 5 minutes first (unless running right after a ride).  Skipping this step leaves me feeling creaky when starting my run.   Since realizing I'm not an invincible runner, I am making an effort to follow through on all the practices that keep my body going smoothly.  So, I hopped on my treadmill for a 5 minute walk.  Running in the rain is fun.  Walking in the rain, while dressed to run, not so much.

Shoes: You have to accept that your feet will get wet.  It's smart to avoid the puddles that are ankle deep or ones you can't see the bottom of.  It's unrealistic to try to jump over every puddle or think you can avoid splashing.  Feet will get wet.  Soaking wet.  I've been lucky so far when it comes to blisters, but if you have problems with it, choose your socks wisely.  Don't consider your running shoes to be too precious.  I've done wet muddy runs in retired running shoes and it's always been a mistake.

When I'm done a rainy run, I stuff my shoes with newspaper.  It helps draw out the moisture and dry them out.  I also usually have two, or more, pairs of shoes in rotation.  That's a good habit anyways, but is extra handy if you have to do regular runs in wet weather.

Technology: Obviously you have to be extra careful with any technology you bring on your run.  The only thing I regularly have is my garmin, which is water proof.  I don't usually run with music or my phone.  (I always bike with my phone, but run in town where I am confident I could get help if stuck.)  It goes without saying that you need to have some form of waterproofing for any technology.  A ziploc bag works in a pinch.

Warming up after: I have no problems while actually running, but once I'm done the run, getting out of the wet clothes and into a warm shower is essential.  Otherwise I get a chill that I can't shake off for hours.

I also try to remember how I feel upon finishing a rainy run.  It's usually great.  Rainy runs tend to be fabulous zen type runs for me.  If I can take a mental picture of that mood, it makes it easier to get out next time it's raining.

Sudden speed in the pool

It's been over a year since I broke 2 minutes on 100 metres in the pool.  That was a major achievement for me.  Since then, I hadn't really seen any big jumps in time.  Even the 2 minute mark isn't a given.  I've probably done it less then a dozen times.  I hadn't swam a sub-2 minute 100 since before my injury.  The 1:58 I hit the first time I did it has remained my best time for a year and a half.  Until now...

Friday morning, I was in the pool.  I'm still off coaching for the month, so I didn't have an assigned workout.  I've been feeling the need for more structure though, so I was following the general formula that Angie uses in my swim workouts.  A warm up, some drills, some steady swimming, then I decided to throw in a bit of speed work.  Not much: 4 x 25m, 2 x 50m, 1 x 100m.  (25m is one length of the pool, so 50 is there and back, while 100 is there and back twice.)

The 25m were feeling good.  I wasn't breaking any of my records on them, swimming them in 27 or so seconds.  It was solid though and I held the pace for all 4 of them.

Then on to the 50s.  What the heck?  55 seconds?  Maybe I timed myself wrong.  Maybe the pace clock was off?  (I'd forgotten my garmin, so was going entirely off the pace clock.)  Then I did it again.

I rested on the end of the pool contemplating it.  This could very well be the morning when I could get under 2:00 again, I thought.  I gave myself a full 90 seconds rest.  This was important to me.  My swimming felt clunky for a long time during/after the injury, and even though I'd had some good races, this sub-2 minute hundred is like the sub-30 minute 5K for me.  It's one of those steps that was a barrier for a long time.  When it's been a while since I've achieved it, I want to prove to myself that I am still capable.

I watched the pace clock make it's way around.  I was starting on the red top.  Then it was go time.

The first 25 metres I concentrated on swimming steady.  I almost always go out too fast and can't hold it.  No lolly gagging or sand bagging, but if it felt hard this soon, I knew I'd be in trouble.

Onto the next 25.  Swimming strong.  Uncomfortable.  I could just stop at 50.  Nobody would know.  No.  I would know.

The third 75.  I had no idea how I was doing timewise.  You lose time when you stick your head up to look at the pace clock, after all.  It was hard.  From looking at my garmin stats, this is the part I always slow down.  Stay strong...

The last 25.  It hurt.  But, it was also in the final stretch.  You can do anything for 30 seconds.  Anything.  I tunnel visioned my focus onto my technique and ignored the pain.  Body roll, high elbow.  Push down that little bit with my chest to keep my hips up.  Don't lift my head...

I hit the wall.

1:54

1 minute, 54 seconds.

FOUR seconds faster then I have ever swam 100 metres.

When I first started swimming, a 4 second improvement was easy to come by.  Now, not so much.  Very pleased.

Racing for fun - Strathmore race report

What do you consider to be a fun race?  I used to have it in my head that it would be the kind of race that I would just toodle along.  Something I didn't care too much about.  Maybe do it with friends.  No stressing the training going in and no stressing race day.

I had a couple of races where I tried to do just that and they were utter failures.  Either, I didn't find it fun, or I abandoned the plan partway through.  Finally I realized that a "fun" race for me is one that I push hard enough that I finish feeling like I'm going to puke.  Where I leave everything out on the course, and there's no "could I have gone faster?"

I raced last weekend!  It was a spur of the moment decision.

I'd decided to take August off of racing, and go easy on training.  Easy was supposed to mean, still doing it, but not stressing about following a schedule.  In reality, what happened is getting time to train got a lot harder.  My kids aren't in daycamps anymore, and my husband has been working overtime almost every night, often not getting home until 10:00pm.  Without a race on the schedule, or a plan, I just didn't feel like going to the extra effort to make the training work.  It is rather painful to put one's bike on the trainer or run on the treadmill in August.  So, I've had only a handful of swims and runs in the three weeks since Calgary 70.3.

Last week, Runner Leana mentioned on her blog that she was doing Strathmore, a local women's only race that I did two years ago.  I was hit with a serious case of race envy.   When I checked the race website, there were still spots.  This race always fills up, so that seemed like a sign.  I debated it briefly, then signed up.  Then I tri-pushed and got Kim, another friend, to sign up.   It was going to be an awesome day!

Race day dawned bright and early.  I car pooled with Kim to the race, and we had a relaxing drive chatting along the way.

When we got to the race, it was social centre.  There were lots of Team Trilife people there and I kept running into somebody I knew.  We cheered for people coming out of the swim and hung out.  Before long, it was time to race.

The Swim

Since this is a pool swim, it's a staggered start based on your estimated swim time.  I'd estimated my swim time as 12-13 minutes, then second guessed it.  I swam just under 12 in Vulcan when I still had the stress fracture and wasn't pushing off properly.  I hung back a little bit, so that I'd be near the end of my wave.  You always start with slower people and finish with faster people so best not to stress too much about it.

Photo Courtesy of Neil, Runner Leana's husband

I jumped in and started swimming.  It had been a while since I'd last swam, so I was taking the first 50 metres to settle into my pace.  Not too hard.  I know that if it doesn't feel easy for those first 50 metres, I'm probably going way too fast.

When approaching the wall at 75 metres, my foot got tapped.  I stayed on my side, and let the woman behind pass me.  Then I pushed off right behind her to see if I could catch her draft.  Yep.  She was going at a decent pace, but I had no trouble holding on to her.  In fact, after a few more lengths, I started wondering if she was fading.  It was feeling easy, but I wasn't sure if that was just because I was drafting.  Was it worth the effort to pass?

I decided to keep hanging out behind her.  I figured even if I swam slightly slower, I would at least go into bike fresh.  I find a lot of people can decide to speed up if they think they are being passed, and I didn't feel like going to battle.  With 100m left, I accidentally tapped her toe on the push off, so at the following wall, she let me by.  I had a great rhythm for those last 75m, and realized that I probably should have passed.  I could feel how much faster I was.  My garmin confirms that I swam much slower between 200m and 425m then I did for the rest of it.

Then I was up and out of the water.  You have to walk on the pool deck, so I used it as a moment to catch my breath before heading out the door and running the rest of the way to transition.  Yipee!

Swim: 12:46 for 500m (includes time walking to lane and out of pool.)

Bike

The bike I felt really strong.  I debated whether I should hold back to save energy for the run, but decided I would just push it and keep pushing it.  I was willing to take the risk of blowing up because with such a short distance, I figured I could pull off a finish even if it really hurt.

The fun thing about a staggered start is that you get to pass lots of people on the bike.  I made it a goal to catch up and pass every person that appeared ahead of me.  I figured it wouldn't take long for faster people to start catching up to me and passing me, but it didn't happen once.  Not once!  I wasn't passed at all.

I underestimate myself on the bike.  What I thought was a hard, maybe risky effort was probably a completely appropriate race pace for a sprint.  Truthfully, with more consistent training leading up to it, it could even be an appropriate race pace for an olympic.

Then, pulling back into transition.  I got off my bike and headed for my spot.

Bike: 44:47 for 20km (Time includes both transitions.)

The Run

The run.  This one has been my wild card this season.  Leading up to Calgary 70.3, I'd only been doing run/walk intervals.  Once I completed Calgary 70.3, I finally had the confidence that my foot was truly healed.  So, I was going to run it.  The whole thing.  I even had the hope that maybe I could pull of a sub-30 minute run, something that I hadn't accomplished since early this year.

I seem to have a pace that I almost always fall into off the bike, about 5:30/km.  In any longer race, this is the time to look at my pace, and pull back, because I can't possibly sustain that pace over the long haul.  This time, I didn't look at my pace, and I didn't hold back, because I was going to run this thing, damn it.

Within the first kilometer, it was feeling hard.  I'd gotten so used to the run/walk intervals, and I was taking that away from myself.  No walking!  This is what I've been waiting for, I reminded myself.

I started to get into my rhythm.  It was still hard, but it was maintainable.  I could hold it.  Every time I got the urge to walk, I reminded myself that I would have killed to be able to run this race three months ago.

I grabbed some water at the aid station and kept running.  Except it was in hard plastic cups!  Boo.  You can't pinch those to drink while running.  So, I just aimed for my mouth, got a bit in and most of it on my shirt.  No worries.  It was hot anyways.

I was hurting, but feeling so good on the way back.  I barely looked at my garmin.  It didn't matter.  What mattered was that I running.  I smiled.

With one kilometer to go, I picked up the pace.  I felt so strong.  The finish line was in sight.  I shut off the part of my brain that tells me I hurt and just concentrated on moving my body.  Running tall, running strong.

And I crossed the finish line.

Run: 28:59 for 5K.

This may be the closest I've ever come to puking upon crossing finish line.  I was actually looking around for a garbage can in case I couldn't stop myself, but before long, I had my breathing under control and was feeling good again.

This race was a victory for me.  I thought Calgary 70.3 was my come back race, and it was.  But, in a way, so was this.  This race, I was able to do without holding back.  Without fearing the injury and without feeling like I had to play it safe.  I raced with everything I had on that day.  I proved to myself that I still have it.  If anything, getting through this injury has made my mental side so much stronger.  Nothing can stop me now.

Total time: 1:26:30 (A minute and a half faster then last time I did this race.)

After the big race - reflections on getting through the injury

It's been over 2 weeks since finishing my second half ironman.  The journey to get there was a lot more difficult then for the first one.  Interestingly enough, the actual race was easier.  As happy as I am overall with it, I feel a little disappointed in that aspect.  On one hand, I feel like I didn't put everything I had on the table.  On the other hand, I recognize that I raced very safely.  Not every race should be a "safe" race, but I was at a point where that's what I needed to do.

Coming through my first injury has been a huge learning experience.  Now that I'm on the other side of it, I can look back at that process with interest.

For a very long time, I wallowed.  I've received plenty of comments commending me on how well I took it, or how positive I was dealing with it.  Let's just say that the public face I put on is often different then what's really happening.  Actually, that's not entirely accurate.  A more accurate statement would be to say that I avoid public (including my blog) when I don't like the face I'm wearing.  What I say on my blog, I believe to be true (though sometimes I am in denial of reality), but when I don't blog, that's when I'm not so positive.

I think the first injury is really tough for any athlete.  It sure was for me.  Running is the one discipline that I never stopped, even at times when I took a bit of time off of swimming or biking.  Running used to be a great big "I can't".  I was afraid that if I ever stopped, I might never start again.  And I love running.  Really truly love it.  There is nothing else that gives me the rush that I get from running.  I felt like I had a part of myself ripped away when I found out I couldn't run.

Knowing that I can work through an injury has given me strength going forward.  When I first found out I had the stress fracture, I was sure I would never be glad it had happened.  While "glad" isn't quite the right term, I think it's become a valuable experience.

For one thing, injuries are a reality of doing sports.  I had a fear that an injury could be a show stopper for me, an end to triathlon.  I no longer believe that.  If I get injured again, it will be with a knowledge that I possess the strength to get through it.  Any injury sucks.  It almost always means short term plans are compromised, but I now know that in the long run, it makes me stronger.

There are things we can all do to lessen our risk of injury.  I wasn't doing most of them.  Despite the presence of strength workouts in my training plan, I rarely did them.  I did core work when I attended spin class, and not consistently on my own.  I continued to carry unnecessary extra weight on my frame, and while it probably wasn't a factor in this injury (statistically a low weight puts you at higher risk of stress fractures), it increases my chances of other injuries.

While injured, and recovering from injury, I did physiotherapy.  Initially, it was to address the muscle loss I incurred from wearing the aircast.  Then we started addressing muscle imbalances and general strengthening.  She added a couple exercises a week, and before I knew it, I found myself doing a full body strengthening routine, including core.

When I started this season, I thought I'd accomplish huge things physically.  I knew I had untapped potential, and I intended this to be the season that I tapped into it.  I planned to hit new speeds and blow away my old personal bests.

What I hadn't anticipated was this was the season I was meant to become stronger mentally.  This was the season I needed, to find strength within myself.  To learn that I have the ability to get through the hard times, rather then just riding through the good.

Training the mind is the biggest part of getting stronger.  That little bone in my foot has taught me some valuable lessons.

Calgary 70.3 race report 2013, the run.

This is part 3 of the race report.  Part 1 and Part 2.

Transition 2

Once off my bike, I headed into transition.  Since this race is a point to point race, you don't see T2 before the race.  Last year, I tried to go completely the wrong way out of transition.

This race, I was more prepared with the set up.  The volunteers were also super helpful, making sure I got my bike to the right place.  There was no room for my bike on the rack, so when I asked if I could move one of the other bikes over, one volunteer completely took care of racking my bike for me while the other dumped out my bag so I could get ready.

Change shoes, helmet off, hat on, grab a gel.  I already had 2 gels in my spibelt number belt, along with my inhaler.  There are gels on course, but I don't like relying on them.

I turned to go out of transition, and then turned around to go back.  I'd forgotten to take off my jacket!  I was really glad to have had it on the bike, but there was NO way I'd want it on the run, even if the day was cool, and it was warming up anyways.

Once I got rid of my jacket I was out of transition and ready to run.

The run

It was time to run, the part of the race that I was both afraid of and excited about.  Of course, those two feelings can be almost synonymous, since fear is exciting.

Right after transition, my family was there to cheer me on, so I did a very wide turn in order to catch a couple high fives.

Then it was time to run.  After talking to Angie (my coach) about it, I'd settled on a strategy of running 5 minutes and walking 1.  I wasn't thrilled with the necessity, but it was the reality of doing this race so soon after being cleared to run.  Since I was doing the intervals anyways, I decided to make them work for me.  Rather then dwelling on the fact that I had ahead of me the longest run I'd done in three months, I was only going to think about the interval I was on.  I wasn't running 21 km.  I was just running 5 minutes at a time, until I crossed the finish line.

I quickly settled into my standard post bike run pace, at about 5:30/km.  TOO FAST!  I felt great, but I know very well that I can't actually hold that pace in a race of this distance (yet).  I moderated my pace.  It actually felt easy, but I knew it wouldn't stay that way.

The run of this race is an out and back.  One of the very cool parts about that is the fact that you get to see some of the fast finishers.  I saw a teammate, Sharon (also one of the other team trilife coaches) coming in when I was on one of my early walk breaks, so I used my extra lung energy to cheer her on.  Damn she's fast!  In my age group too.  Hmm, I only have to cut a couple hours off my half ironman time to catch her...

There's about a 4 km loop before going down into the weaselhead.  If you don't have supporters there, it can be painful, because it means you pass really close to the finish line an extra 2 times before crossing it.  If you have supporters though, it's awesome, because it means they see you on the course an extra time.

My family was great support on the course.  See the leaves in Sweepea's hands?  Those are her pompoms.

 After a boost from the family, I carried on.  Run 5, walk 1.  It was still easy at this point.  I headed down the big weaselhead hill.  Carefully.  I have done virtually no running downhills since getting back to running, but I really didn't want to walk it.  I focused on not letting the pace get away from me, but at the same time, not using my feet as brakes, if that makes sense.

For the most part, the run was just feeling good.  If I'm 100% honest, I don't feel like I "raced" this race.  I was doing it to complete it, which is exactly what I needed to, but the it didn't start feeling really hard until very late in the race.  My foot felt fine, although, I can't say I really trust my ability to feel pain when I'm in race mode anymore.

Up a really steep hill, and then not long after that was the Team Trilife aid station.  Which was AWESOME!  The cheers that I got were a fabulous extra boost.  Angie asked how I was doing, and I told her I was golden.  I was.  I felt really good.

Not long after that, my tummy started to rumble.  Damn.  I remembered it doing this just a little further along in the race last year.  At that time, a porta potty magically appeared, so I pretty much had forgotten about it.  This time, I was going to have to go a little further to get there.

After stopping off, I carried on.  I was almost at the turn around point, and while I won't say it was still easy, it was only mildly uncomfortable.  The main reason I don't like run/walk intervals is because I find myself looking at my watch to see how far off the walk is.  I don't do it because I need to walk though.  If I was just running I wouldn't do it.  I tried to limit the watch glances.  It does beep/vibrate when it's time.

To the turn around and then back.  My legs were feeling it at this point, and the way back is more up then down.  Carry on.

It was starting to get uncomfortable.  My garmin was the boss.  When the garmin said to run, I ran.  When it beeped after 5 minutes, I walked for a minute.   I made exceptions for the two steep hills on course, and for a few seconds at the aid stations, while drinking from the little cups.

I was walking when I reached the Team Trilife aid station again.  I wanted to run, since the support there is amazing, but I had decided I was sticking to what the garmin said, and there were still about 8 km to go.  Too early to start deviating from the plan.

The really steep hill down after that aid station, I did walk.  I just haven't done enough (any) fast running with high turnover lately, and I've done no downhill running in my training.  I decided not to push it on this one.

When I got to the hill back up, I also walked that one.  The garmin beeped for my walk break while I was on it, and beeped to start running when I got off of it.  This is the point in the race where my legs were really feeling cooked.  My legs would have loved to stop at this point.  I could see the finish line, but instead, I ran past it to finish the last 4K.

Last year, this final stretch was really really tough.  This year, it was hard.  Just hard.  I will admit I wanted to walk.  And I did walk, but only 1 minute out of 6 when my garmin said it was time.  At this point, I shut off the connection between my legs and my brain and carried on.

I saw Trish, a teammate that I've swam with for the last few years.  We'd finished the swim within seconds of each other and played leapfrog on the bike until she left me in the dust as I braked down the hill.  Now, I was reeling her in.  And to distract myself from the fact it was hard, I focused on that for a bit.

I caught Trish when we were just over 1 km away.  One of the spectators encouraged us by telling us "the hard part is over!"

Really?  It felt pretty hard at this point.  Just saying.

Then I picked up the pace.  I was going to finish this race strong.  There was nothing left to hold back for.  Sure it was hard.  It even hurt, but damn it, I was crossing that finish line.  It was the first finish line of a full triathlon this season and the first post injury triathlon.  That finish line meant so much to me.

The medal is awesome.  It's huge.  I did this race last year, and I thought that was a good medal.  The one was a workout to wear.

Official Times:

Swim: 45:31
Bike: 3:36:13 (Including both transitions, about 6 minutes for both.)
Run: 2:39:22

Total time: 7:01:07

Final chapter to come: Post race thoughts

Calgary 70.3 race report 2013 - the bike

This is part 2 of my race report.  Find part 1 here.  (Sorry for the delay!  I went camping with my family this past weekend and was internet free.)

T1

I headed over into transition and to my bike.  My bike which, very happily, had tires that were nice and full of air.  :)  Thank you to the fabulous folk from Speed Theory.

Off with my swim cap and goggles, on with my sunglasses and helmet.  Socks, shoes.  Arm warmers or jacket?  I had been leaning towards the jacket before the race, on account of likely rain.  I decided that I make more rational decisions when I'm not in race mode, so I should stick with that one.  Jacket it is.

I dried my hands a bit on the towel, but even so my gloves stuck to my hands getting them on.  I know a lot of people don't use gloves in triathlons, but I really prefer the comfort of them for longer races.  Maybe it's partly because I am still riding a road bike, without aero bars.

Then I was heading out.

T1 time: around 3:45 (I forgot to lap my garmin until I was already on the bike.  My garmin says 4:39, but I think it was close to a minute before I hit it.)

Another photo courtesy of Runner Leana

The Bike

Off onto the bike.  The course starts with a loop around the lake before hitting the roads that take us to the highway.  I was feeling pretty good at this point.  Sometimes I have mild nausea after the swim, but it wasn't hitting me at all.

One of my major goals for this race was to stay in the moment.  This meant, at this moment in time, all that mattered was the bike.  Granted, I needed to do it in a way that would allow me to run after, but any worried thoughts about what was coming up in the run were shut down.  I could deal with the run when I got there.  Keeping this mindset helped me a LOT during this race.

As I finished up my loop around the lake, I saw my family and got a little cheer to send me on my way.

The bike course was completely different from last year, on account of a different swim location.  It was a bit short, at 85km, but challenging, with lots of hills in the first half of it.

I geared down when I needed to, and spun up the hills.  I was not going to make the mistake of burning my legs out in the first half of the ride, when I still had a long ways to go on both the bike and run.

My garmin was not fully functional for some reason.  It was giving me my current speed, but wasn't giving me distance, or average speed.  I also wasn't getting an accurate heart rate reading, as anytime I looked, I had a heart rate of about 70 bpm.  Ummm, no.  I wasn't sitting around blogging, which is about what I'd have to do to maintain a heart rate of 70.  I was a bit disappointed about the lack of heart rate info, but it just meant I had to really pay attention to my rate of perceived exertion instead.

There were a couple steeper downhills that I had a tough time with.  I just couldn't keep my hands off the brakes.  Having said that, I did take some of the other hills without braking, something I wouldn't have been able to do even a couple months ago.

Early in the ride, I'd regretted the jacket and was wondering if I'd have to stop to tie it around my waist, or something.  By this point in the ride, I was glad I'd made that decision.  It was cool, and kept threatening to rain.  In fact, my finger tips were occasionally feeling numb, so I was glad for the gloves as well.

I had my garmin set to beep every 10 minutes to remind me to hydrate and fuel.  I didn't always fuel when it beeped.  If I was descending, passing, or cornering at the time, I'd wait.  I liked having it to remind me though, as sometimes I can easily go 45-60 minutes without remembering to fuel, not the best idea in a long race.  This kept me right on track.  I was using stroop waffles (like honey stinger waffles, but not individually packaged, or marketed for sports, so way cheaper), drinking heed and had some gels as well.

Then I was passing Bragg Creek, and I knew the most challenging part of the course was behind me.  In some ways, it is good that my garmin wasn't giving me full data.  I can get obsessed with the average speed number, as I'll always work out the average speed I need to maintain in order to meet goals or cut off times.  That might work on a completely flat course on a wind-free day, but I haven't been on a course like that yet.  In this particular course, nobody could maintain the same average speed for the first half that they'd be able to reach in the second.  The second half of this course is mostly a false flat going down.

I heard sirens and just hoped they were unrelated to the race.

Once onto highway 8, the shoulder we were riding on got a lot narrower.  There was not room for two riders unless one went onto the rumble strips.  It was late enough in the course that there wasn't a tonne of passing, but there definitely was still some happening.

At one point, I was approaching a guy and debating whether to pass.  Sometimes I find, the person in front slows down very temporarily to eat or drink and if I pass, they either start pedalling hard while I'm passing, or pass me again right away.  Not so this time.  I wasn't braking, but I had stopped pedalling and was still gaining on the guy.  I'd have to brake to stay out of his draft zone, and this was an easy section of course.

At this point of the highway, there was actually room to go on the other side of the rumble strips while still staying in the shoulder.  I moved over and called out to let him know I was passing.  I did a quick check to make sure I was ahead of him and could pull back in, when another women came through right between us.  She did say something as she came through, but if I'd moved in a second sooner, or skipped shoulder checking, it could have been bad.

I was probably at about 70 km by now and was feeling really good on the bike.  I remember last year being really, really uncomfortable by this point.  I've changed my saddle since then and that's made a huge difference in long ride comfort.  I've also really been working on my posture and position, which has helped with the numbness I typically get between my shoulders.  And, quite frankly, I've just spent more time on my bike this season.

The one annoying thing about the course was the way the signs were placed along the highway.  Basically, there's a smooth shoulder, then a fairly wide rumble strip, then the highway, where cars were zooming past.  There were signs set up to inform motorists of the race that was going on, except they were set up in the smooth part of the shoulder.  This meant that you had to continually weave back and forth between the rumble strip and the smooth pavement.

I came to one section where traffic was stopped going both directions.  I'd already slowed down, but as I approached, there was a woman who told me to slow waaaay down.  Then I was stopped, with emergency vehicles spread out in front of me.  I'm not sure how long, but I'd guess 3-4 minutes.  I was the first triathlete stopped, but very soon, there was a group waiting.  Finally, an ambulance pulled away, the police let some traffic from the other direction go, then we did.

As I rode past, I saw the one thing I was hoping I wouldn't: a riderless bike on the ground.  (Reports since the race are that 3 people were injured.)

As horrible as it was, I knew I had to shake it off.  I wasn't the victim, and I couldn't help the victim by dwelling on it.  Keep riding.

In the last few kilometers of the bike, I started thinking about transition and mentally rehearsing it.  Before long, I had turned and was on the final stretch to transition.  Keep pedaling.  Stay relaxed.  When I reached the dismount line, I stepped off my bike, confidently, with no tip over fears  I headed into transition, to prepare for something I hadn't done for 3 months: run 21 km.

Up next: the run!

Calgary 70.3 Race Report - 2013, The swim

Sunday, I completed my second half ironman.  When I signed up for it last fall, I saw myself blowing away my performance from 2012.  Then, three months ago, I had the experience that almost every endurance athlete has to deal with at some point.

An injury.

In my case, a stress fracture.  In terms of running, it's a game stopper of injuries.  Oddly, at the same time, it's one of the simpler ones to heal.  (Not necessarily easy, but simple.)  Bones can heal fully, provided you are smart enough to give them the rest they need.  There's no debate; you have to stop running on it.  There is some debate as to how long.   In my case, I spent 4 weeks in an aircast, letting my bone heal, while my muscles atrophied.  Then, 4 weeks of walking without the aircast, but still no running unless it was in a pool.  That left me being able to hit the road running 1 month before the race.

My run training was a mix of water running, elliptical, and some actual running, with run/walk intervals.  I am so thankful for my coach, Angie.  If I hadn't had her, I don't know if I would have made it to this start line.  I would have had no idea how to structure my run training to safely get there.  When it came down to it, I hadn't actually run more then 10km on the road for exactly three months, the day I ran my last half marathon.

This is where I was going to have to trust the training.  I had done some very long pool runs.  I'd also had a couple long "runs" where I spent a good two hours alternating between running and the elliptical.

Pre-race

This is the first time my husband and kids came with me to an early morning race start.  I had been a bit stressed about this, but my husband took care of all the kid stuff, leaving me to worry about my last minute race preparations, mainly getting my hydration and nutrition together.  We had planned to leave the house at 5:00 am, and were pulling out of the driveway at 5:05.  Not bad, in comparison to the planning.

Due to the recent flooding in the Calgary area, the swim was in a completely different location, at Mackenzie lake, in South Calgary, rather then Ghost Lake, which is close to Cochrane.  This meant it was about an hour drive in the morning, rather then the 15 minutes it would have been.

There was no parking nearby, so I got my husband to drop me off, while he and the kids went to park.  I headed over to body marking and looked for Leana, as she was volunteering there.  I found her husband, Neil, first.  I joked that I was looking for her, but he would do.  He told me that I could still have Leana if I wanted.  I asked who had the nicer writing, and when it was determined it was Leana, she was called over.

Leana was kind enough to put my number right side up, even though I gave her an upside down age a couple weeks ago.  (Photo courtesy of Neil, stolen from Leana's facebook page.)

Then I headed over to my bike.  I was feeling a bit tight on time, and realized that although we had left the house almost on time, we should have planned to leave earlier.  The drive was almost an hour.  I had arrived at the race with less an hour to go, and taking into account set up, the porta potty line up, getting the wetsuit on, and doing a warm up swim, I had no leeway.

Since my husband was there to give it to, I had brought my own bike pump.  I got my nutrition set up on my bike then went to pump up the tires.  I started to unscrew the presta valve on the rear tire, and the end of it came shooting off as all the air forcefully expelled.  I stood there somewhat dumbstruck and almost ready to cry.

I know how to change a tire, and some of my visualizations of the race even included that possibility.  At the moment though, it just seemed completely overwhelming.

The girl next to me was the voice of reason.  "Best time for that to happen," she said.  "Take it over to bike support.  They'll help you with it."

I wheeled it over to bike support and tried to get a handle on my emotions.  Not a big deal, I told myself.  She was right.  Way better that this happened now then have it happen mid race.  Still, when I got to the bike support tent, I was still teary eyed.

"Are you okay?  Can I help you with something?" one of the guys asked me.  I explained the situation, and he immediately took my bike from me and started changing the tire.  I can't say how thankful I am to Speed Theory for helping me out.

While my tire was changed, I went back and set up my transition.  I like to keep my transition zone pretty simple, but this time, I did have the extra items of a jacket and arm warmers.  The temperature was supposed to be kind of cool, and I hadn't decided which to wear on the bike.

I retrieved my bike and gave incredible thanks for it.  Then I saw the porta potty line. The really long porta potty line.  I took my wetsuit with me and waited in line.  And waited.  While I waited, I heard them announcing that everyone needed to come out of the water.  Okay, no swim warm up.  Finally, I reached the front of the line and did my thing.  Then I headed to a little grassy corner and got my wetsuit on with a couple other people.

While getting my wetsuit on, I heard the singing of "Oh Canada".  I was zipping it up as the pro men wave started.  I had planned to give my dry clothes bag to my husband, but I didn't see him around, and didn't have time to look, so I just dropped it off at the official drop off and headed down to the beach.

By the time I got there, the pro women had gone, and the teams were being sent off.  That meant there was one wave left before mine, the age group men.

I found my kids off to one side watching the start and gave them a hug.  My husband was just getting back from looking for me.  They wished me luck, and I went and took my place on the beach.

I was actually feeling very calm, and ready.  It's amazing how just three years ago, I was afraid of the deep end of the pool and now, the swim was the part of the race I was the least worried about.  It was a bit of a challenge to seed myself, but I looked around and realized I was standing behind some men.  Since the age group men had already gone, they had to be part of the newbie wave, which went after the age group women.  I moved forward some until I was pretty sure I was in front of the newbies.

I'm in the black wetsuit

Then, it was time to go.

The Swim

In the last few races, I've discovered that, for my current swim ability, how I enter the water is more important then how I seed myself on the beach.  I pass anyone who is doing the obvious hanging back and walk brickly to the edge of the water.  The people in the front that sprint for the water stay ahead of me (as they should) and the others entering similarly are either close to my speed or a bit faster.

Then I was in and swimming.  I was bumped and jostled a few times, but I took it in stride,  something I'm very pleased I can now do.  I concentrated on getting my stroke smooth and avoiding any panic kicking, and I started to watch for feet to draft, if they should happen to appear.

I even found them.  I don't rely on drafting, but when I can, I've started trying to.  I've found that since I've stopped hanging back at the beginning, it's easier to find those feet.

The swim went really smoothly.  If anything, I would say it was a very comfortable swim.   I continued to draft for about half the swim.  At that point, I touched the girl's toes, and she stopped really abruptly and pulled up in the water.  I carried on and went around her.

There's a tunnel in this swim course, which was kind of cool.  It was darker, but not pitch black.  By now, the faster swimmers from the newbie group had caught up and were starting to pass.  Out of the tunnel and I just kept going.  Concentrating on a long, smooth stroke.  No panic kicking, which is a habit I have in open water, whether I'm panicked or not.

At one point, I was a bit confused about which way to go, so I probably lost a bit of time before realizing there was now a triangular buoy to head for.  The lake was only just big enough for this swim, so it had more turns then you would normally see.

Then it was into the shore.  I concentrated on feeling the water and pulling as much as I could.  I felt really strong at this point.  I kept swimming until I reached the boat launch and then waited until I was touching the bottom.

Up, onto my feet.  I undid my wetsuit, got it to my waist and headed over the strippers, then it was into transition to get ready for the bike!

Swim time: 45:31  (Garmin measured at 2.09km, quite possibly a bit of crooked swimming in there.)

Next up: The bike and run!  (Maybe together, maybe separate, depends how long it ends up being...)