Woodstock Sprint Triathlon - June 6th, 2015

Like triathlon's goofy slapstick cousin, this was ill advised racing at its finest: just 2 weeks after the Sulphur Springs 50k, still badly over race weight, almost no bike fitness and a fresh, tender injury to boot.

At least I was stylish in my Vanderkitten tri suit!

Meh, whatevs. You punches your ticket, you takes your ride. Pre-race faffing went fine: up at the crack of stupid after something best described as a nap, bagel stuffed in face, arrive at site with plenty of time in the chilly morning air to pick up race kit.

My race bib seems to know me well.
At least I didn't pay full price for my idiocy.

I got my transition area set up neatly, basically working on autopilot. It had only taken me about 10mins total to pack everything up the night beforehand, and even less time to lay it all out ready to go. 

It's almost like I might have done this once or twice - or maybe two dozen times - before.

Portajohn, body lube, drink water, shiver a little. Did you know that BodyGlide goes crumbly after 8 months without being used? Totally fail to apply sunscreen. Do own bodymarking anyway, adding a little essential that the volunteers wouldn't have.

At least part of me will be smiling through the whole thing.

Stuff great walloping mass of lower body into teenytiny rubber suit that hasn't been off its hanger since last September. Remember that I haven't done a swim interval longer than 200m in at least a couple of months. Feign optimism while seriously doubting my ability to even get through the first leg of the damn race.

I'M GOING TO DROWN

With assistance from Tanker the Wonder Sherpa, ascertain that it is at least possible to get the wetsuit zipped up over my ample insulation.

If one of these seams lets go, there will be no survivors within a 100 metre radius.

Into the lake for a laughable warmup swim, the 20c/68f water feeling much chillier than advertised. Swim most of the way out to the first buoy, note that there is some chop running from the East, get swamped, tired and discouraged. Do some kicking and treading water to try to gently warm up the damaged leg while trying to adjust my too-snug wetsuit so it might feel just a little less constrictive. Realize the only true way to achieve that would have been to put down the damn fork a month ago, and swim back to shore while trying to avoid getting whacked in the face by other athletes.

Werrlllll, I survived that bit anyway.

I was in the first wave right at 9am with the pros, elites, men <24 and women 30-39. So, I figured I'd probably be somewhere around last out of the water in my wave, 'cause I've got no damn business being in with the fast bunch.

Or the medium bunch. Or the less-than-glacial-pace bunch.

The horn sounds, I take a couple of steps forward as everyone else leaped in with gusto, and then dive in like a bloated sea lion. There's a mess of flailing limbs around me, some of which are mine.

GURGLE BLUB SPLUTTER

The less said about the swim, the better. That bit of chop - just pathetic little 14" wavelets - seemed intent on swamping me every time I'd try to breathe on the way out to the first turn buoy. Even breathing to the leeward side, they were just big enough to wash over my head and try to drown me. Not having practiced any in more than half a year, I wasn't having an easy time sighting, but seemed to be swimming reasonably straight.

That's about the only thing that went ok.

Between unintentionally hydrating myself with lakewater and my total lack of endurance, I ended up side stroking a bit...and then even flipped on my back to kick for a little. This happened more than once, though I did manage to get myself from the 1st turn buoy to the 2nd swimming front crawl. The chop was, after all, running in the same direction I was swimming at that point. Heading for the swim exit after turn 2, the chop was now coming in from my right and there was more side strokery.

I mean, I know my swimming is never good when I'm recovering from a tough race, but this was pathetic. Overtaken by the 2nd wave of athletes just past the second turn buoy, I felt like a failure.

To distract you from my abysmal swim, here's a picture of some ducklings beside the starting area.

I eventually flopped & flailed my way back to land, got to my feet and gave my damaged hamstring tendons their first test of the day as I waddled toward transition. I had sort of forgotten that I'd have to run up to T1 until I was approaching the swim exit.

750m swim: 17:01 @ 2:16/100m

Haven't been that slow since 2012.

Fortunately, the damaged leg seemed to hold up as I staggered along and started stripping my way out of my rubbery casing. Entering the transition area, I ran along the rack looking for my bike...only to discover I was at the wrong rack. Wobbling my way further along, I finally located my gear.

LEMME OUT

I methodically went through the process of donning my race number, sunglasses, helmet and cycling shoes (a process complicated by not wanting to strain the sore hamstring tendons by bending over too sharply), then began timidly trotting up the hill toward the bike course.

Leg, don't fail me now!

T1: 01:34

00:12 slower than 2014 

Here's where the comedy of errors really gets rolling.

As I ran along, holding my bike by its saddle, the bars swung completely over to the right - effectively halting me in my tracks. I had to use my other hand to correct it and then try to get back into my cautious stride. I finally made it to the mount line just behind a knot of about a dozen other athletes who conspired to completely block the way forward. I mean, I have no problems with running a few metres past the line before hopping on to give other people space, but I literally could not get through. So, I waited. Suddenly making sure my bike was racked with the pedals in the proper position seemed ridiculous - I probably lost 30 seconds just waiting for the mounting area to clear enough for me to swing a leg over my bike. I did actually manage to start my cycle computer, though.

Once I was finally in the saddle, I felt better than expected - didn't even have as tough a time climbing the big stinkin' hill out of the park as I'd feared, just focused on keeping the pedals turning. The air was still cool, but the sun was bright and my own effort kept me warm. Spinning along in the small ring up and over the hill Northbound on 13th line, I settled in and started to enjoy myself a bit, coming through the turn East and then the 5k mark in 12:05 - just under 25kph average.

While learning that being in the 1st swim wave means there are even more people to pass you on the bike.

I made the second turn onto 15th line and pulled out my only nutrition for the race about 17mins into the bike: a single packet of Salted Caramel Gu. I got it into my face without crashing or coming out of aero - for which I feel like I deserve a damn medal, what with it only being my 2nd ride on my tri bike since last fall. I even made it through the hairpin turn-around, though slowly and slightly wobbly, while thanking the police officers on course for keeping us safe. Headed back North again on 15th line, I climbed a rise and then shifted to the big ring as I came over the top and into a gentle downhill..

..promptly dropping the damn chain.

Dammit.

So, laughing a bit - 'cause what else can you do - I coasted down the hill until it started to level out, then pulled over and stopped to sort myself out. It occurred to me later that I could have tried using the shifter to pop it back up onto the chainring, but by that point I'd already dismounted, coated my right hand in grease setting the chain back in place, and had to stand on the pedals to get myself moving again.

Fortunately, the rest of the bike leg was uneventful. I successfully shifted to the big ring and back down again a couple of times, and tried to strike a balance between making up a bit of lost time and saving my legs for what promised to be a fairly feeble run.

But hey - no crashing!

Approaching the dismount line I weighed my options while trying to gauge how well my damaged hamstring was holding up, and elected to forgo my walking-on-air parlour trick in the interest of health and safety. Coming to a complete stop, I gingerly swung my sore leg - which was actually feeling ok - over the bike and lumbered back toward transition.

N00B

20k bike: 47:08 @ 25.46kph

02:11 slower than 2014.

(My cycle computer recorded 45:32 of moving time)

"Running" to transition

Changing from my bike shoes to my run shoes took longer than it should have for a couple of reasons. First, I was still leery of putting too much strain on my sore hamstrings, so had to be careful picking things up off my little mat on the ground. I was also vainly trying to keep from smearing the chain grease that coated my right hand all over my pristine white cycling shoes, so ended up working left-handed while two-thirds of the way through a race for which I was severely undertrained. I'm sure you can imagine how well that worked out. Grabbing my hat at last, I headed for the exit before they decided to start charging me rent.

T2: 01:06

00:05 slower than 2014.

Shift yourself, woman!

The run may have been the source of my greatest trepidation, but it actually went better than I could have expected. I went out fairly easy, partly to test the hamstring and partly because it was pretty clear I wasn't racing for a PR anyway. As always, it seemed to take forever to reach the dam and the 1km marker, especially since they'd poured some aggregate stone on the trail that was rather uncomfortable to run on with chilled feet in my tri loafers.

Which I keep on wearing at Woodstock, despite knowing the course is mostly trail.

I took the steep descent off the far end of the dam very cautiously to spare my poor, damaged tendons as much as I could, and breathed in the phlox-scented air along the river. The sun was scorching, but the air remained cool so I wasn't suffering too badly. Of course, it seemed like everyone in the whole race was running past me like I was standing still, but that was nothing more than I expected.

I figured I might end up DFL, but didn't really care.

Up the sharp climb to the road, I grabbed a cup of water at the aid station just past the 2k mark and took a couple of sips before tossing the rest down my back. I pattered my way up the false flat to the turn-around, then began the final jaunt as I shouted my thanks to the amazing volunteers and offered some encouragement to the other athletes on course. I'd find out later that I unknowingly said a few much-appreciated words to a fellow Vanderkitten VIP who was having a tough time on the run, managing to brighten her day just a little. Honestly, even if I got nothing else out of racing, that would be enough to keep me coming back.

And where else can I flash the ill advised racing gang sign?

With 1k left to go I was death whistling and my sore leg was talking some serious trash to me, but I pushed on and even managed to just barely pass the guy in the Triathlon Club of Burlington kit who appears in all these photos. He beat me on chip time, of course, but it was nice to pass at least someone out there.

Into the chute with zero kick.

I hit the final turn and the gentle downhill to the finish line, glad I didn't seem to have done any further damage to my injured leg and not having had to walk. Some lady who clearly hadn't left it all on course came flying past me and my TCOB companion, but I crossed the line upright and smiling.

We'll call it a win.

5k run: 28:58 @ 5:47/km

00:05 PR!

Just barely holding off the competition.

Official time: 1:35:46

12/23 W35-39 - 96/156 W - 283/388 O/A

02:51 slower than 2014

Just happy to be done.

So it appears I'm getting slower every year I do this race - I went 1:31:06 while undertrained in 2013 and 1:32:55 three weeks after being by a car in 2014. While I may have a few excuses - and maybe even something that qualifies as a reason - I really would like to go under 90mins at this race someday. 

2015, however, was not that day.

Meh.

Still had a hoot doing it on a really beautiful day, though. Of course, then it was time to try to recover hard for further stupidity the next day..

Chelonian chicanery

I have been brought low by a turtle.

I set out for a trail run on Saturday, May 30th - just an easy 10km along the Mill Run Trail from Riverside Park. I was, as is usual for a Saturday, a bit short on time; I was trying to make it for a swim that evening, and had about an hour and a half between the time I was setting out and the time I should be in the water.

I trotted along through the heat and humidity, setting out just as the last drops from a riotous line of thunderstorms fell, and had to stop after less than 4mins because of what I saw on the path before me.

Well hey!

Despite my time constraints, I couldn't resist pulling out my phone to get the shot above. It's not every day you see such a thing along the trail, and even more seldom you see a turtle right in the middle of the paved section of path where you can get a really good look.

Knowing I still had about 9.5km to go and even less time to complete the run now, I took off again...apparently with a little more alacrity than I should have.

My right leg started to hurt, right where the hamstrings attach at the hip.

Yowch.

But I am a stubborn fool, and continued to run. I ran past Beaverdale Road, noting a sign that said the Hesepeler end of the trail was closed for emergency bridge repairs. Having seen similar signs in the past and been able to continue on, I sallied forth.

I made it as far as the bridge that seems to wash out every year, and discovered that the trail was, in fact, very much closed.

Nope.

So, I set back off toward Riverside Park. The soreness seemed to dissipate a bit as I ran, and the sun came out. I ended up stopping again by a trailside wetland to snap a shot of another wee turtle catching some rays.

Right in the middle

Setting off again from having stopped was nasty. Whatever I had done was stabbing me right in the groin, but it eased as I settled into my stride. It wasn't bothersome until I stopped again and had to re-start: the accelerations were brutal.

But, because I'm an idiot, I refused to settle for just getting back to my car. I ran a couple of loops around Riverside Park, traversing the boardwalks through the wetlands, to make up for the shortened trail run due to the absence of bridge.

Inhaling deeply of the phlox-scented air.

I went for a swim - rather shortened due to my lateness - then had some dinner & rolled into bed.

Awaking Sunday morning, I could barely walk. I went back to the pool, and while swimming was fine, flip turns were painful. Just making it up the stairs to the Johnson Centre was damn tough.

We had brunch with friends later that day, and that was about it. I sank into a deep hole of pain and glumness, unable to go for the run that would surely help brighten my mood. I went to bed early, thinking the best thing I could do was catch up on sleep to help me heal.

Monday I began some rehab exercises and decided to try riding a bike. I wasn't sure if it would be possible, and even if it was it might not be a great idea. The possibility existed that a contributing factor to the injury might have been riding my mountain bike to & from the farmers' market on Saturday morning; I'd laid down power on the pedals in a way I hadn't for quite awhile, both to childishly pass another cyclist I'd spotted (because YES YOU GOT CHICKED) and to climb the big honkin' hill we live on.

And enjoy some lovely trail.

Monday's spin around our neighbourhood with Tanker was delightful. I rode my old mountain bike, as I wasn't sure about being clipped in. A sunny, mild evening laden with the scent of flowers from some of the impressive gardens in our area, gently turning over pedals as I noodled along with my sweetheart. If all recovery could be like that, I'd never complain about being injured. My damaged leg felt fine while riding, and was doing at least 30% better than Sunday. We went for a stroll after dinner and I did another round of rehab exercises before getting to bed fairly early again.

By Tuesday the leg was feeling even better, with very little remaining soreness. I decided to push my luck. I hadn't taken my tri bike for a ride since Lakeside in mid-September of last year - 8 months prior. I wanted to know if it was possible to ride it with the damaged hamstrings, as getting down in aero does require pretty good hip mobility.

And taking pictures in aero is even trickier.

Fortunately, that felt fine. Better than fine, really - I came off the bike with zero soreness, feeling like the ride had actually helped stretch and work out the damage. I had even laid down a bit of power on the pedals, and everything responded positively to the test. Brilliant!

Wednesday saw me back on my old pal Dusty for some commuting, feeling absolutely no pain in the damaged leg during the day; I was probably about 90% back to normal. I'd had a total lunch ride fail the Wednesday prior due to multiple flats, and wanted to get back to the beautiful trails I'd found through Mississauga that take me almost all the way from my office to my Mum's front door.

This sucked.

This RAWKED

I gave the injured hamstrings a bit of a tweak trying to take off quickly from a stoplight, but it didn't feel too bad once I got to Mum's house. Since it was National Running Day, I decided to give it a whack once we got home. I laced up and trotted around our neighbourhood with Tanker following on his mountain bike, getting an easy 5km under my belt.

The good news:

1) It didn't hurt as badly as Saturday's run.
2) It didn't require me to alter my stride.
3) My leg didn't seem to hurt any worse afterward.

The bad news:

1) It did hurt. With every damn step.

2) I woke up Thursday with some soreness.

Crap.

I decided I'd just go for a swim Thursday evening rather than risk running, but then the pool called to let me know there'd been a fouling and lane swim would be cancelled. So, what the heck? I decided I'd get the last of my bicycles out for a ride with my sweetheart.

Sunset spinning

This also gave me an awesome opportunity to finally get my new socks out for a test ride. 

Best. Socks. Ever.

So that brings us to today. I continue rehab exercises, and have spent a thoroughly ridiculous amount of time sitting and wiggling around with a tennis ball under my butt. There's still some residual soreness, but it's probably sitting about 80% functional. I really hope I can say the same come Sunday afternoon, because this weekend will be a true testament to my idiocy and stubbornness.

Tomorrow morning I'll be lining up with zero open water swim training, precious little cycle fitness, and a running injury to race the MultiSport Canada Woodstock Sprint Triathlon. This is why I needed to know if I could ride my tri bike - I'll have 20km of hills to contend with whenever I manage to flail my way out of the water. Hopefully the beneficial stretching and warmup effect I felt on Tuesday will help me through the 5k trail run to finish off the race.

Then, because of a quirk of scheduling, I'll get up Sunday morning and make my way up to Bingemans for the Heels & Wheels 5k. If the run at Woodstock doesn't do me in, the rolling hills of the trails through Stanley Park Natural Area may.

But really, it's all just for fun anyway. I knew when the two races landed on the same weekend - both having changed from their traditional dates for 2015 - just 2 weeks after the Sulphur Springs 50k, there was no chance I'd be performing at my peak for either of the events.

I'll just keep my fingers crossed that I don't end up damaging myself any further, because the summer is just beginning - there's a whole lot of racing left to go!

Thus, easy does it. Slow and steady...just like a turtle.

Which is different from any other race, how?

Stick a fork in it.

Since this will be my last post of  2014 (yes, you'll be spared my drivel next week - REJOICE!), I figured I'd take a look back at what the year held for this ill advised racer.

I started in January with one of my favourite events - the Frosty Trail 3-hour. It was a tough day with tricky, ever-changing conditions, and I'm pretty sure the end result was a personal worst distance to go with the bruised feet and torn up shoes.

These were in mint condition before the race.

Still, it was great fun and I actually won my division - trail racing is so subject to the conditions on the course that even a personal worst can be a decent outcome! It was widely regarded as one of the slowest days ever at that particular venue.

February was devoted to training my butt off so I'd be ready when the end of March rolled in, bringing the Around the Bay 30k with it. I had worked incredibly hard for this, and it paid off with a 10+min PR at that race and 3.5min PR at the distance. My sub-3 goal? Yeah, got that, and then some. This was probably my best performance of the entire year, and I have months of kicking my cranky arse out the door in a polar vortex to thank for that.

Vindication.

Of course, there was no time to rest on my laurels, because I had stupidly decided it would be a shame to "waste" all that run fitness and signed up for the Waterloo Marathon at the end of April. I caught a cold, soldiered through idiotically instead of resting up, and fell short of my 4:10 goal time by almost seven and a half minutes. I just did not have it in me on race day, though as much as I whine about it I still bagged a 20+min PR at both that distance and that race.

That'll do.

So with triathlon season about to start, it was time to gear the running down and ramp up the cycling. I had every intention of spending the next couple of weeks after the marathon absolutely living on my bikes, trying to translate some of the aerobic fitness into pedaling power. Then, this:

Snorky's ok.

Being hit by a car (two days after crashing my mountain bike, no less) put a significant damper on my training for the next few days, and it was weeks before I was anywhere near 100% again. Nonetheless, at less than 3 weeks post-hood ornament, I lined up for one of the coldest starts to triathlon season yet: the Woodstock Sprint.

I put together a really slow swim, a bike hampered by idiot drivers and poor fitness, and a pretty poor run to come in almost 2 full minutes later than I did in 2013, when I simply hadn't done the training I should. Who knew that playing bumper cars on a bicycle would be bad for performance?

Though I suppose finishing at all was enough of a win.
Maybe even starting counts.

Then came a crazy block of events in June - the Heels & Wheels trail 5k at which I actually took 3rd woman overall (!), the Cambridge Tour de Grand 72k (not a race, but lots of fun!), the Welland Triathlon that Tanker and I did as a relay, then an extra-poignant Together We Travel Ride for Angels in which I wore the same kit that had gone skidding across the pavement in May.

My first overall award at Heels & Wheels!

Rolling through Grand River country with my sweetheart.

Tanker off to kick the Welland bike course's ass!

Riding around Niagara Falls after the Welland relay tri

Together We Travel - Ride for Angels is a critical mass ride
to raise awareness for cycling safety, in memorial of a man
who was killed when he was hit by a car in Waterloo Region.

I finally had a couple of weeks to buckle down for some serious training before returning to the site of my unfortunate horizontal trackstand of 2012 for the Mine Over Matter Full Off-Road Triathlon on the first Saturday of July. Despite a head-on collision with another athlete during my swim warm-up, I made it through the whole race unscathed and didn't even mind too much when I had the absolute slowest bike split out of any athlete that day,

My saddle coming loose and turning skyward probably didn't help.

A couple of weeks later I was back to one of my favourite race sites for a new experience - doing the Belwood Triathlon as a lone competitor! Tanker and I had always done this race as a relay in the past, but after hearing him rave about the lovely cycle course we decided to switch it up for 2014. I had a pretty good swim, suffered in the hills on the bike, then had a breakthrough run out of nowhere! I ran faster for the final 7.5km portion of that tri than I ever have in a stand-alone 5k.

On the move!

With no further racing on the schedule until September, there were adventures to be had! We laughed and paddled through rainy days in the backcountry at Frontenac Provincial Park, covering 6 lakes in 4 days before jetting off to Bon Echo Provincial Park for another couple of days of front country camping, hiking and kayaking along the incredible heights of Mazinaw Rock.

Soggy in Frontenac

Tanker's first canoe tour!

Bon Echo's quartzite cliffs

Tanker discovering pictographs on Mazinaw Rock

August saw some training happen as I tried to ready myself for fall racing, but the final week of the month was dedicated to our annual motorcycle tour. We had a wonderful trip exploring a science centre and a shipwreck museum, camping in Killarney Provincial Park, freezing ourselves at Brimley State Park on Lake Superior's southern shore, then drinking in the rich history of Fayette State Park before leaving Michigan's Upper Peninsula to return to South Higgins Lake State Park and on to the always-enjoyable Great Lakes Rally outside Detroit. We arrived home exhausted but full of incredible memories!

Making friends at Science North

Lake Superior sunset

Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum

Charcoal blast ovens at Fayette State Park

Endless dunes on the north shore of Lake Michigan

Huge campsite at South Higgins Lake

Riding with friends at GLR

Suffice to say over a week of almost no training was not precisely helpful on the tough course of the Lakeside Olympic Triathlon in September. It was cold, I had navigation issues during the swim, a minor mechanical problem (that fortunately resolved itself) and a major fitness fail (which did not resolve itself) on the bike, and a somewhat redeeming run. Overall, a bit meh, but I'll take that 1sec Olympic distance run PR!

This bit, on the other hand, sucked pretty badly.

Since I hadn't entered any fall trail races other than my traditional season-ender, I was able to take the last weekend of September and join seemingly the entire province in Algonquin Park for a weekend of camping & solo backpacking. The weather suddenly turned hot and dry as the fall colours hit their peak, and I ended up exceeding all expectations I had of myself on the trail while seeing some incredible sights along the way.

Falls on the Madawaska River.

Sunrise over Head Lake

The Starling Lake lookout

Forest ablaze with colours

Two weeks after that, it was back to the woods for Campsgiving at Valens Lake Conservation area. We thoroughly enjoyed discovering this local gem, and will assuredly be back in the future to enjoy its beautiful lake, trails and boardwalks.

Overlooking the reservoir

Marsh boardwalk

I started to back off training to taper for my one and only ultra for 2014, and seemed to be running really well when I got hit with a calf injury out of nowhere right before the race. With an aggressive rehab strategy and absolutely no running in the few days before the event, I lined up at the start of the Horror Hill 6-hour with zero expectations other than to try and see. Much to my surprise, I made it through the entire race and even posted a PR distance!

Who would've thought?

Now ordinarily my season ends with Horror Hill. After you've run for 6 hours, what else is there really to do? Once again, I'd hatched a crack-brained scheme so I wouldn't "waste" my run fitness, culminating in a failed 10k PR attempt at the Kona Chocolate Run. Fortunately, I had so much spending the weekend with friends we dearly love and pacing one of said friends through the subsequent 5k race to a huge PR for him that it's impossible to think of doing the Chocolate Double as anything but a win.

This moment here is worth more than any medal.

Overall, I wouldn't say this year's race results were terribly impressive. I'm quite proud of the huge PR at Around the Bay and I have most assuredly taken my running to a new level this year, but between the lack of cycling and some other poor decision making, I wasn't really able to translate that into racing performance throughout the season.

I can, however, take away at least one positive thing from each race I did, and each one has fond memories or silly stories attached to it. Furthermore, there were almost no points I can think of in which I gave anything less than the best I had in me to give on the day. Since I'm just a Joe Schmo athlete that pays to enter these athletic events for the fun and challenge of them, I think that's more important than the final numbers anyway.

Wishing you all the best of the holiday season - peace, joy and a wonderful new year. I'll see you in 2015!

Merry Dorkmas to all, and to all a good night!