Um, yeah. Racing. Sure.

Tomorrow is the Belwood Triathlon. I said after last year that this year I might just get drunk for my birthday weekend instead.

Then they moved the race so it's the week before my birthday, and like a sucker, I signed up again.

The score going in is thus:

- I've not managed more than 5hrs of sleep any night this week.

- I'm still injured.

- I'm still running anyway, because summer. And trails.

Way easier to accept "can't run for awhile" in January than when this is calling to you.

And just to make it extra special, I had to say goodbye to a friend who has been with me for over 15 years. Whisper came to me as a tiny ball of fluff while I was still in a damaging relationship with my ex, then moved halfway across the country with me once I met Tanker and got the hell out of Edmonton. She had a grand adventure when she jumped out a window one Halloween night and disappeared, only to wander into the backyard (slightly chubbier than when she left) a week later - just hours after we adopted another cat. 

Beautiful girl

She had an amazing coat with fine, downy fur under the silky outer strands, all black except for the star on her chest, wisps of white in her armpits, and a heart-shaped white spot on her lower belly. Her tail would curl into a corkscrew when she was tickled just right, but a strike from her front paw was like being hit with a length of rebar. She was named for her funny way of looking at you and opening her mouth to meow without making a sound, and she was always, always there for me.

Helping me recover from a race

Sharing my pillow

All she ever really wanted was to be loved, and I did so with all my heart. She was sweet, affectionate, and didn't have a malicious bone in her pretty little body. She had grown old and tired, though, and was having trouble getting around. She couldn't even make the leap to her favourite spots anymore.

Back of the LazyBoy chair

The pillow under the office window

It all came to a head on Tuesday night, when she hurt her front leg quite badly while trying to jump up on a chair. She had been declining pretty rapidly in the week prior, and now she couldn't even get comfortable while laying in her favourite laundry basket. After a last meal of her favourite treats, the time had come to end her pain.

Enjoying a sunbeam on Sunday afternoon

She went peacefully at the end while I stroked her, and has left her paw print forever on my heart.

Rest easy, pretty girl. I hope you've found a windowsill where the sun always shines.

Mine Over Matter Full Off-Road Triathlon Relay - June 27th, 2015

What a bloody gong show.

Somehow I got it into my head that start time for this race was 9am. We arrived at 7:30 with plenty of time to pick up kit and get Tanker situated in transition before suddenly hearing that the transition area would be closing at 7:50am.

Erhm, what?

Yeah, so 8am start. Not 9am. Whoops.

By the time I had our kit and got Tanker's number plate on his bike, I had all of 10mins to change (inside my Chawel) into my bathing suit and get at least my lower half stuffed into my wetsuit (which they'd just announced would be legal, contrary to expectations) before we had to vacate transition. With no time to hit a portajohn, that was the only thing getting vacated.

I rubberized myself as best I could, wandered down to the swim exit, and plunged in to flail my way through the water over to the starting area. My total "warm up" was about 50m, and my suit was in need of adjustment.

CO-OPERATE DAMMIT

I waited with the other pink-capped women while the men's wave went off, thankful that at least the water was warm - a pleasant change from Woodstock! I was also grateful that Tanker and I were just doing this race for giggles; between my ongoing hamstring injury, Tank's shaken confidence on the bike and the ridiculous rush due to my start time SNAFU, performance was not the word of the day.

Idiocy, as usual, was.

At 8:03am the horn sounded and I plunged forth to see if I could at least make it through the damn swim without drowning or having to kick on my back (because that was humiliating at Woodstock).

Move it!

I actually felt ok as I headed for the first turn buoy - my arms were turning over and I wasn't feeling gassed or sore. Probably would have been better if we'd managed more than 5-6hrs of sleep per night all week, but it was a little late for that know.

Hey, I'm doing it!

There was only one problem: despite being able to sight the buoy without issue, I was having no luck actually keeping myself on course toward it. I kept drifting off to my left, and my corrections seemed ineffective at best.

The red line is not the fast line.

I must have swum at least an extra 50m just due to my inability to move in a straight line. The advantage was that I had plenty of clear water around me to do my own thing - the disadvantage was that I had a lot of catching up to do.

I did eventually manage to get my navigation under control, right about the time I hit the first turn buoy. I actually felt pretty good as I stroked my way through the rest of the course and commenced passing people. I did in fact swim the whole thing as I'd hoped, and felt fairly strong.

Unfortunately, it would later turn out that I should have started in the first wave. So, apart from my own rather pathetic lack of skill in the water leading to a slow time of 22:30 (at 2:15/100m), we ended up with an additional 3 minutes being tacked onto team ill advised racing inc.'s swim result.

I wasn't much faster running into transition, either.

1,000m swim: 25:30 @ 2:32/100m
8/9 relay teams

So yeah, I only beat one person out of the water - the guy who'd never swum in open water before, and who was wearing a shorty jet ski wetsuit...backwards. Fortunately, Tanker was ready and rarin' to go shred the bike course!

T1: 00:52

Passing a random chick leaving the mount line

Laser-like focus

Through the first loop

Looking strong

Not that you'd know it from the photos, but I heard from Tanker later that he found the bike course quite a challenge. Apart from the joy of having to ride up the Niagara Escarpment (repeatedly), the nature of the trails themselves were plenty to keep him on his toes...and occasionally off his bike, either to walk something that was just too sketchy looking or picking himself up from something it might've been better to walk.

I feel slightly less wussy about my spotty history with the bike course here after hearing Tank say afterward that he'd "never been so terrified while having so much fun."

Dogged determination

I hung out in transition, having changed into my running kit under my Chawel and thrown on a sweater to try to keep from freezing on the cool, windy, overcast morning.

Waiting game

I chatted a bit with a volunteer patrolling the transition area, slammed back a tin of mango nectar, and engaged in a long and elaborate series of dynamic stretches in an attempt to loosen up my legs and stop my teeth from chattering.

Bikes and racks

Trying to judge the time Tank would be back from playing in the dirt based on his first loop, I took a caffeinated gel at about 9:40am in anticipation of the run to come. I wished I could run over to the portajohns as I needed to pee (I'd been staying well hydrated while I waited and shivered), but I couldn't risk not being there when Tank got back. When it passed 10am and the trickle of mountain bikes coming into transition all but dried up I started to get a bit concerned, but just before 10 past my sweetheart was charging hard toward the dismount line.

Rockin' and rollin'

21km bike: 1:43:17 @ 12.2kph

9/9 relay teams

Ripping toward our rack.

A quick kiss and a swap of the chip strap from his ankle to mine, then I was on my way.

T2: 00:48

Hoping like hell my hamstrings hold together.

From the run exit, I was directed down a mowed pathway through the long grass between the parking area and the pond. This brought me out to the quarry driveway; the giant, paved hill that represents the start of the bike course. With no volunteers around and the only other runner I could see ditched behind me (having passed him as I ran across the grass), I wasn't sure if I was headed in the right direction. I'd looked at the new maps on the website, but every other year the run had started with a slog up the double track hill on the north side of the race site that the bike course now took down to transition. Was I running the wrong damn way?

Aroo?

I decided there was nothing else for it - I'd just keep on trucking, and if someone told me I was in the wrong place, I'd deal with that when it happened.

I felt surprisingly strong on the climb up to the trails, and finally found some peace of mind as I passed an aid station without the volunteers yelling "WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" - they just kindly offered me water or sport drink, both of which I declined before darting into the forest.

It was a bit eerie not being able to see another soul during a race, but I thoroughly enjoyed the run regardless. The new course, I came to figure out, is the first 7.8km loop of the bike leg - the run around the pond afterward brings it up to the new distance of 9.8km (which the timing company lists as 9.5k for some reason). While being technical enough to keep your attention on foot, the whole thing is supremely runnable. I danced over roots and rocks, thinking that Sulphur Springs was excellent training for these trails, and just delighting in being surrounded by forest with nothing but the soughing wind as company. I felt fitter than I expected, and my injured leg was quietly getting on with its job even after I stepped wrong on something or other and rolled my right ankle a bit. Pure trail bliss.

Though it may not look like it here..

I grabbed a cup of water from the second aid station, having a sip and dumping the rest on my chest for cooling, figuring I must be about halfway through the run course by now. I had no way of knowing for sure, as the kilometers weren't marked and I wasn't even wearing my watch - I'd ditched it when Tanker was on his way into transition as knowing the time wouldn't have any impact on my ability to run. Fortunately my injury didn't seem to be a limiting factor, and I was able to push fairly hard...as plainly evidenced by the death whistle starting up no more than 6k in as I strained up a root-strewn climb.

I finally found another competitor on course just before I came out of the woods again, passing him as he walked and reassuring him there was a big downhill coming. Of course, I'd forgotten the short climb on the doubletrack that comes before the long, pounding descent. I saw a girl on her way up it as I puffed life a freight train on my way to the top, and decided to zero in on her as a rabbit.

Down, down, down the other side, back to quarry level again. I grabbed another cup of water from the last aid station near transition, having one more sip to wet my mouth and dumping the rest down my back. It wasn't terribly warm out, but I'd sweat while running in a meat locker, so it was welcome. As I pounded my way around the pond I passed my rabbit, plus two other competitors ahead of me - advantage of being a relay runner and having fresher legs. My damaged hamstrings were starting to talk now, but I knew I was only minutes away from being done - this was no time to let up!

Rounding the end of the pond and coming face to face with a blast of wind, I kept pushing hard as I came through the final turn and into the finish chute with damn near nothing left in me.

At least my leg was still smiling!

9.5km run: 58:47 @ 6:11/km

9/9 relay teams

Definitely not going to be tapped for the Olympic team at any point soon, though if the race organizers are correct about the distance being 9.8km I actually managed a 6:00/km pace through hilly and technical terrain. Even if it was only 9.5km, that's almost twice as far as I've run at one time since this idiot injury happened, and I think made for a pretty decent showing for an out-of-shape semi-cripple.

Official time: 3:09:15 (should be 3:06:15)

9/9 relay teams

It's a good thing we just do this for fun, eh?

Team ill advised racing inc. - done with no major damage!

We really couldn't have timed the finish much better anyway. Within 5mins of my crossing the line, the first of the rain that had been threatening all morning began to fall, and in no time it was positively bucketing down!

Watering down my coffee, dammit!

It was a fun day of racing with my sweetheart, and I'm just glad we both finished intact with smiles on our faces. What more could you really ask for?

Trepidation

I kind of feel like I've been invited to watch a car accident tomorrow.

While I still struggle with that damn, niggling hamstring tendon issue, I have managed to run a bit lately. Mostly because I well and truly hate life when I'm not running, but also because I knew I'd have to run at least 8km of hilly, technical trail at Mine Over Matter. Tanker and I had signed up to do this as a relay this year, partly because his interest was piqued by doing another off-road tri together (which hasn't happened since the Belwood Fat Tire Try-a-Tri we did all the way back in 2010), and partly because he wanted to check out the bike course that broke me.

The race has evolved since then, going from a tiny little event with under 100 people the first time I did it in 2011 (when I finished successfully) to a 300+ strong qualifier for the Xterra World Championships. To make things even more interesting, both the bike and run courses have changed since I went back to reclaim a bit of dignity last year.

The bike course is now a short 1st loop of 7.8km and longer 2nd loop of 13.2km, so Tanker will be riding 21km instead of the 2 x 9km loops of prior years. No problem - he's totally going to rock it, having got his bit of mountain bike teething trouble out of the way last weekend.

This washed out riverstone is neither easy to ride nor friendly to elbows.

I, however, am facing three very real problems.

1) The swim. It looks like it won't be wetsuit legal due to the temperature of the water, and after my utterly hapless swim at Woodstock 3 weeks ago (in spite of the extra flotation provided by my full-sleeve wetsuit), I'll be lucky if the water safety crew doesn't have to fish my sorry arse out of the pond.

Prognostication

2) Temperature. The high for Saturday is supposed to be 17c/63f, and I'm going to emerge from the pond soaking wet with probably at least 90mins to hang around and freeze while Tanker goes forth and rips up the bike course like it owes him money.

GIVE'ER BABY!

3) The run. Even assuming I'm not a solid block of ice by the time Tanker returns triumphantly from shredding the gnar, I'm going to have to limp my damaged carcass through almost 10km of terrain almost purpose-built to worsen the particular injury I'm trying to fight through. I can't even rely on my reconnaissance from prior years, as the route has changed for 2015 while increasing from 8.64 kilometers to 9.8k. The only thing I know for sure is I'll still have to do the lung-bursting scamper up the side of the quarry to reach the trails, try not to trip over the multitudinous roots and rocks while I'm up there, and endeavour to save something after the quad-destroying descent back to the quarry floor for the final loop around the pond.

All this while I haven't run more than 5km since I hurt myself on May 30th, clocking just under 37km total for the month of June so far - just a smidge less than the 200+k/month I'd averaged from January to May. 

At least I'm well tapered?

Cambridge Tour de Grand 50k - June 14th, 2015

June is bike month, and what better way to celebrate than with a ride around Grand River country?

I think our feelings about this are best expressed in sock form.

Tanker and I were late - as always - getting down to Churchill Park to get rolling. Might have made the 9:30am start for the 50k if we had managed to pick up our kits on Saturday, but we simply had too much on the go until after the 2pm packet pickup cut-off.

To be honest, given the forecasted thunderstorms, the absolute torrent of rain which awoke us just before 6am, and the grey skies that greeted us when the alarm went off, we'd been tempted to say to hell with the whole thing. However, having done Paris to Ancaster a couple of times (including in blinding snow), cycling in the rain on a warm day didn't seem like such a bad wheeze. Apparently we weren't the only ones who were dubious, though: out of 2,600 registered participants, only about 1,600 actually turned up to ride in the event.

Just barely beating the start of the 40k.

As I was taking a break from running to try to let an injury heal I'd actually been on my various bikes all week, including 31km of hilly commuting to and from the pool on Saturday afternoon on my nubby CX tires. Saturday evening had been spent changing up rubber on both our cyclocross bikes to some road slicks, but as we finally left Duncan McIntosh Arena around 5mins to 10am after chatting with some friends, I could tell the decreased rolling resistance wasn't going to be enough to make my legs respond with any kind of snap.

40k riders waiting for us knobs to get out of the way.

The roads had actually dried up a fair bit from the early morning deluge, and I hoped they'd stay that way. I hadn't rode my ballin' white wheelset with their 23mm near-slick tires since sometime last fall, and while they'd been ok for the riot of rain that was last year's Tour de Grand, I just didn't have the time in on them recently enough to feel comfortable knowing their limits on wet roads. To make things even more interesting, we'd both forgotten our cycling glasses - Tanker had his regular sunglasses in the car, but I was relegated to letting my inner Euro take charge for the day.

Ooh, so pro.

I'm really, really glad I grabbed a cycling cap at the last minute before we left the house.

As we pedaled out of the parking lot and up the hill on Champlain Boulevard to begin our day, we quickly caught up with another couple on road bikes who confirmed we weren't the only ones a bit tardy for the 50k start. We rode together for awhile, then dropped them as we climbed a hill on Clyde Road on the way out of town.

See ya!

50k route map - full details here.

Tanker taking a pull.

The skies were still grey but the weather remained calm as we rode our way through the first half of the course. We were riding smoothly, picking off groups of cyclists ahead of us as we rolled through the countryside - every bike we saw ahead of us was a target, and there were none that we spotted that we failed to drop.

Target: acquired.

The only one I didn't drop.

Arriving at the Clyde rest stop on Village Road, there were at least 3 dozen other participants enjoying refreshments and a pause, so I assumed we must have at least caught up to one of the waves of the 50k start.

Tanker refilled our one empty water bottle each, not having touched the others on our bikes despite the sticky warmth of the day. We were about 27km in, having taken just over an hour to get there, and I took the opportunity to adjust my rear derailleur a bit to smooth out some hesitant shifting due to a difference in dishing between The Biggest Wheel in the World I'd removed the night before and the sexy white hoop I was riding today.

Our bikes getting a break.

I grabbed a couple of banana chunks and an orange slice from the lovely volunteers once I was satisfied I wouldn't have to deal with any further shifting frustrations, then joined Tanker in the line for the portajohns. I didn't need to go, but figured I'd keep him company, and ended up holding his place while he helped himself to a couple of aid station cookies. He finally got his relief, then we prepared to saddle up again just as the skies opened and a gentle rain began to fall.

Just before the dampening.

With a cooler breeze having started to blow through the fields and parking lot at the rest stop, I decided that prudence dictated donning my vest as we set off for the rest of our ride. It wouldn't keep me dry, but it would help trap some heat and keep the wind from chilling my rain-soaked chest as I rode. I've talked about my love affair with vests in the past, and my Vanderkitten VIP vest with its awesome Ophelia "houndstooth" has been a great addition to my arsenal of gear.

Soggy kitty.

Tank was pleased with his King of Lions kit, too.

For the rest of the ride, it seemed like the rain had something personal against us. What began as a light patter soon turned into a steady drenching, then a bloody deluge as we finally re-entered Cambridge city limits. We rolled cautiously through up to an inch of flowing water beneath our wheels, taking corners wide and easy to maximize traction on the sodden streets. Tanker's brakes became more and more useless with each passing minute as I watched the water rooster tail off my front wheel. Fortunately, other than a single fat drop that somehow got lucky, my cycling cap managed to keep my eyes protected from the torrent.

At least I didn't have to worry about my glasses fogging up, right?

Yeah, great day for a ride.

My bike needed washing anyway.

Exercising extra caution as we came through the Elgin Street tunnel and across the soaked wooden footbridge, we grunted our way up the final climbs before sailing down the long decline through residential streets back to Churchill Park. Drenched right to the bone, we ditched our cycling shoes for flip flops at the car and traded our helmets and gloves for dry shorts and t-shirts. 2 hours, 4 minutes and 1 second of ride time for 50.8km per my cycle computer - an average of 24.5kph/15.2mph.

You know it's been a wet ride when you can wring out your cycling gloves and socks.

We both got changed, then split up for a bit as Tanker went in search of post-ride food in the arena and I knocked back a can of coconut water and a chocolate chip cookie while I registered for some complimentary soft tissue massage provided by Peak Performance. While I had the ongoing problem in my right leg, my left hamstrings had been feeling a bit strained since my tough ride to and from the pool the day before. Fortunately, after just a few minutes, I was directed to a table and the masseur got down to work.

I had to chuckle a bit at the horror expressed by the RMT when he encountered the damage in my right hamstrings. After he did some rather aggressive work on me - even having to enlist the help of a Cambridge Times reporter to hold the massage table in place, as it was trying to slide away under his ministrations - I was feeling a little less of the annoying pull and stab in the backs of my legs. Good deal! He'd rubbed some Biofreeze gel into my hamstrings, though, and the chill from it made me very happy I'd brought a dry change of clothes and a hoodie to keep me warm.

Of course it had quit raining completely by the time we got home, and not another drop fell for the rest of the day. Just our luck.