Belwood Triathlon - July 11th, 2015

I don't think triathlon is really my thing this year. I have a theory about that, but that's a story for another day.

For now, courage.

The week leading up to Belwood was complete and utter balls. I'm still injured, had to say goodbye to a dearly loved friend, and got maybe 25hrs of sleep from Sunday to Friday. The only thing that got me out of bed at 5:30am on Saturday was the prybar known as "you spent money on this, stupid", which to date has a 100% effectiveness rate.

Get to race site. Grab everything from car. Wander toward transition, once again getting gravel stuck to my bike tires and scraping more paint off the rear wheel cut-out in the frame. Discover that fencing precludes anything like a reasonable route to the bike check-in entrance of transition. Hop some of said fencing, find a rack spot, do all the things.

Fortunately, in my 7th season of triathlon, I can accomplish most of said things on autopilot. I very seldom stupidly forget to put my nutrition on my bike or anything foolish like that anymore, even when all I really want is a nap.

Did I pack a mattress?

Portajohn. Wetsuit stuffery. Bah, still too fat for a good fit. Wander into water, flail about 50m out. Water safety person on paddle board tells me to head back. Wave legs around in water in attempt to warm up my injured whatever-it-is-that-hurts, then flail 50m back to shore.

Is it too late to change to the duathlon?

First wave goes. Kiss Tank, head down to start line, and position myself way off to the right in case I'm doing that awesome pulling-to-the-left thing that happened at Mine Over Matter. Of course, everyone else seems to have the same idea.

Horn sounds, and while everyone else seems to be in a big hurry to set off, I just kind of meander forward and then dolphin dive.

So much meh.

Flailage.

I feel like I'm doing ok until I'm apparently attacked by a facehugger with bad aim...or rather someone's hand splayed firmly on top of my head. It's the same water safety chick on her paddleboard, and she's pointing me off to the right. Yeah, happened again; drifted off to the left. Really though, I'm not that badly off course - just a few metres. While it's nice to be back on the right track sooner than later, I could've done without having my melon grabbed.

Whatevs. Onward.

Navigation is fine now, but I keep getting boxed in by other athletes. There are arms and legs everywhere in my field of vision, and I can't find a way through them. Finally make it to the first turn buoy, and it's wall-to-wall rubber and thrashing limbs around me. I pull up short for a quick breast stroke to see if I can locate an escape, but all I really succeed in doing is slowing down even more.

A continent drifts past. I can't even stay on its feet.

Through the second turn and headed back to the shore, I now have the dam beside me for easy navigation purposes and manage to find some clear water (because everybody else has left me behind). I am, however, tired. Bone tired. Even with accelerating my breathing pattern, I'm still gasping...so I side stroke a bit. 

Yeah, the swimming equivalent of walking the run. Again. I just swim like crap when I'm tired.

I do still manage to swim slightly more freestyle than side stroke, but it's a pretty narrow margin in the last couple of hundred metres. Eventually the spastic twitching of my limbs brings me to water shallow enough that my hand touches bottom, and I rise from the murky lake like some kind of chubby swamp creature.

From the black rubber lagoon?

750m swim: 17:20 @ 2:18/100m

Ok, that does include the absurdly long run-up to transition, but still - pretty pathetic.

Seldom has a photo so accurately portrayed my feelings.

Really, calling what I did on the way to transition "running" would be awfully charitable - I felt completely shelled and probably would have gratefully collapsed into a heap for a snooze had someone put a cot anywhere in view. I trundled to my bike, learned exactly how difficult it is to put cycling shoes on wet feet one-handed as you cling to a bike rack to keep from falling over, barked my shin on my pedal leaving said rack, and cursed my way to the mount line.

T1: 01:34

Other than my pedals now being out of position, saddling up went ok. I spun myself up to cruising pace and set out to execute my plan - I'd learned after the race last year that the first half is mostly flat or downhill, so with some bike fitness built while not running much due to injury, I dropped my meager hammer.

It's one of those inflatable ones you can win at the fair.

I passed some people. Some passed me. Not all of them were the same people. I had a sip of EFS Liquid Shot from my flask as I passed the 5k mark, then got whacked in the face by some huge freakin' bug on the out-and-back section. I climbed to the turn-around, sailed down the decline after negotiating the hairpin, ran out of gears on the big stinkin' hill at Oustic, and still made it through the 15k mark in 29:36 - a 30.4kph average.

Bike fitness - I haz some!

Of course, then there's a hill that's a kilometer and a half long. Then another that's over 2km long. My left adductor muscle started to talk, and none of what it had to say was positive. Just past 20k I had another sip of EFS Liquid Shot, then commenced to hammer again as I came through the 25k mark and back onto 18 toward Belwood Lake Conservation Area. I probably could have hit this section a bit harder, but my saddle had compressed under my chubby butt quite a bit by this point, which meant the slightly-too-long seat clamp bolt that sits dead centre in my saddle's big cut-out section began to make itself a very large and personal part of my life.

Note to self: replace that bolt. It's not the sort of thing you can ignore.

After a bit more airborne caterpillar with a young fellow on the home stretch and running out of water in my aero bottle (close enough to the finish I couldn't be stuffed to re-fill from the bottle on my frame), I finally made the dismount line. Still cautious about my idiot injured leg, I came to a full stop and got off the bike gingerly to avoid impeding my run any further.

Let's see how much time I can waste..

30k bike: 1:04:34 @ 27.88kph

(If the race director is correct, that should be 30.2k @ 28.06kph)

Hi-ho fatso AWAAAAAAAAY!

Back to my rack, I had a bit of a struggle to get my tri loafers on, but eventually got moving toward the dam to finish off this idiotic undertaking.

GET ON MY FOOT DAMMIT

T2: 01:17

Now past 10am as I trotted across Shand Dam, the sun was in full effect and beating my pudgy arse down. Death whistling commenced immediately and did not relent. While the rail trail is lined with trees and shrubs along most of the run course, the sun angle meant there was precious little shade. I grabbed a cup of water from each aid station, had a sip off each one, and dumped the rest down my chest and back in an attempt to cool myself down so I wouldn't actually combust.

This is going to take more than a half-full dixie cup.

Not wearing a watch, I had no idea what kind of pace I was running, but I felt slow as hell - I swear that glacier came whipping past again, so at least I'm slightly faster on a bicycle than geography. All I could do was try to focus on quick turnover and hope my legs held together. Fortunately, the damaged hamstrings and sore adductor decided to cooperate.

RUN FAT GIRL RUN

I tried to offer encouragement to other athletes along the way, but oxygen was pretty precious by this point - I did make sure to thank all of the volunteers who make this awesome event possible, though. It was heartening that I managed to pass a few people, right up to the last half kilometer - clearly I wasn't the only one suffering in the blistering heat and sun. After a blindingly bright and seemingly interminable waddle through the double turn-arounds, the dam finally hove into view.

HALP

7.5k run: 42:13 @ 5:37/km

My smiley face got some compliments.

There was no kick. I had zero energy left when I finally dragged my sorry arse across the line.

GUH

Official time: 2:06:58

6/15 in W35-39 - 57/117 W - 182/286 O/A

So I pretty much sucked, but I did give it all I had on the day. Fortunately I was able to see a longtime friend compete in his very first triathlon just after I finished (GO BILLY! You rawk!), and then enjoyed a delightful afternoon, wonderful dinner and a fantastic play in the very best of company.

This guy is just the best.

It was rather alarming to see how short on volunteers MultiSport Canada was at the race site. If you have a couple of hours to spare, why not give something back to the racing community? It takes a lot of effort to put on these fine events, and donating your time gives you a great new perspective on racing from behind the scenes while giving you an amazing opportunity to see an incredible diversity of athletes as they push themselves to the limit. Go on and give it a try!

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.

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!