Ontario Women's Triathlon - Saturday, September 10th, 2016

Yes, it's been almost two weeks since the race. You're getting a report anyway. I promise I had a good reason for not writing it last week, but that's a story for another day.

Maybe it's something about the venue, or that particular weekend. I can only be certain of one thing: it has pissed rain 100% of the times I have tried to race at Georgina out of De La Salle Park. At least this year it was much warmer - 19c/66f instead of 10c/50f.

I was up absurdly early despite the very reasonable race start time of 10am, because I had to get my breakfast (rice porridge with almond butter and honey) ready and then drive an hour and forty-five minutes through the rain to get up to Jackson's Point. Ok, well Tanker the Wonder Sherpa actually drove - I merely kept pointing out how ridiculous it was to drive three and a half hours round-trip for a race I expected to complete in under 80mins.

My other skills include taking terrible photos from a moving car.

I'd taken my time trial bike out for a single ride in 2016, the Thursday before the race - less than 5km of spinning up and down through both rings and all cogs around my neighborhood, just to confirm that everything was good to go after it sat in my livingroom untouched for almost an entire year. My trusty steed performed flawlessly despite being completely neglected since racing at Georgina last September.

Seen here just after bike check in, being led by an overladen idiot.

We arrived at the race site after a Tim Hortons stop and sucking back my well-it's-better-than-nothing coffee in plenty of time for me to pick up my kit and get my transition area set up. After a lovely chat with honorary Race Director Paolina Allen (an awesome lady and thoroughly badass athlete), I meandered to my designated rack with little hope of getting a good spot, but lucked out when the person who'd racked at the end closest to the swim in/run out decided to move their stuff. Score!

Noone is amused by my dorky antics.
I don't blame them.

Bike racked. Shoes and hat laid out. Sport drink poured into nerdy aero bike bottle. Spermy helmet arranged with straps out on aerobars, with sunglasses (bows already open) inside, and race number attached to belt laid on top with clip undone. I even clicked my rear derailleur up to a slightly bigger cog and spun the pedals so the left-hand one was at around the 10 o'clock position, for that extra little edge when mounting. With less than 450km of total cycling in for the year I needed every bit of free speed I could get - I still had no idea why I'd actually bothered tapering for this race, except that it was my only multisport event of 2016 and I don't have anything else on the calendar until the end of October.

Optimism.

Nonetheless, it all just felt so dorky. I missed the simplicity of just throwing on a pair of shoes and having done with it. Gawd, I even needed Tanker the Wonder Sherpa to zip up the back of my spandex onesie (because let's face it: that's what a tri suit really is) after one last stop at the portajohns to lube up all sorts of unmentionable bits of me and try to get the last of the horror out of me.

I may have neglected to mention that I felt like absolute garbage. It had started Friday night and continued all the way up to Georgina that morning - I don't know if I angried up one of my stupid food allergies, if I'd ended up with food poisoning, or if I was just lucky enough to come down with a stomach bug, but I was having horrible cramping and some other really unpleasant effects. I really hoped this wouldn't be a repeat of my awful experience at Muskoka Long Course back in 2010, because I don't think I'm capable of coming up with that many euphemisms for "trying not to crap myself" again. I mourn the loss of that race report, but never, EVER want to repeat its overarching theme.

Think happy thoughts.

After my usual run warmup, I whipped out my stool to stuff myself into my rubbery sausage casing (seriously, the dorkiness just never ends) while the pre-race announcements went on, and then wandered down to the beach to get the suit (also untouched since September of last year) wet and take a few strokes.

Error: enthusiasm not found.

I swam out to the orange buoy you can see on the left, discovered I could just barely reach the bottom there on tiptoe and keep my face above water as I re-adjusted my wetsuit, then swam back with just a couple of minutes before the first wave started at 10am. Three minutes later, the horn sounded and everyone around me started madly dashing into the knee-deep water while I moseyed in like I had nowhere in particular to be.

These ladies are so excitable..

I dolphin dived a lot - 4 or 5 times - then swam for about 20 metres or less. Reaching the sandbar, my hands were touching bottom even with high elbows, so I stood up and started dolphin diving again. I passed quite a few people this way, then dove in again between two pairs of feet and started working my way to the first turn buoy. Fortunately my stomach seemed to have settled down a bit, so I could actually focus on my terrible swimming.

One of these things is not like the others.

Surprisingly enough, I actually had one of the best swims I've pulled off in the last couple of years. My sighting - despite wearing smoked, metallized goggles in the dreary half light - went perfectly, and for once I actually swam in a straight bloody line. There was a bit of crowding up to the first turn buoy, but no real contact, and I found some clear water as I made my turn. I even had some decent endurance, swimming a consistent freestyle throughout despite not having swum a straight 500m that I can recall in the entirety of 2016. I passed people as they started to lose steam ahead of me, and my Garmin says I completed the 500m course in 9:50, so under 2mins per 100m. That qualifies as pretty good for me.

500m swim: 11:22 @ 2:16/100m (includes long run-up to T1)

11/30 in W35-39 - 40/184 O/A

A good swim, but I still didn't enjoy it. One of the things I realised all the way back in April is that I don't particularly like triathlon swims. There's only been one in my entire 8 seasons as a multisport athlete that I actually found pleasant, and that was at least 5 years ago. They're generally just something to get through, and this was no exception - a stark contrast to the opening miles of a trail race or ultra, which are generally an energetic and deliriously happy exploration of some beautiful bit of trail.

Does this look like someone happy with their choices in life?

In any case, it was over and now it was time to tackle the absurdly long run up to transition. It was kind of neat because we went through a pedestrian tunnel under the road, but kind of sucked because there was a lot of gravel under my bare feet, a hill to climb on the other side of the tunnel, and then we had to run right around the whole damn transition area to the corner diametrically opposite our approach in order to come in through the run out arch.

Plenty of time to pull off my goggles, cap and suit once I got to the other side.

Discarding all of my swim paraphernalia, donning my race number belt, sunglasses (just as the rain got harder), cycling shoes, and dorky helmet, I grabbed my bike and started heading for the mount line. I even managed to push the button on my Garmin to tell it I was heading out on the bike now (it was the first time I'd ever used multisport mode), and start my cycle computer. Jeez, it's like I finally figured all this crap out just in time for possibly my last tri ever!

T1: 01:27

I had no problems clipping in my left foot after swinging my leg over the bike, but as I stepped on the pedal to get going (and said "excuse me, sir" to a fellow who walked across the course directly in front of me as I did so), something went crunch. I struggled to get moving and to clip in my right foot, standing on the pedals for leverage. What the hell?

Waving to Tanker and Paolina, who were sweetly cheering for me as I set off!

Within moments it became clear that my rear derailleur was in trouble, and the shifter wouldn't stay in place - the moment I released it, it would drop into the smallest (most difficult) cog. Erhm, ok - I had something similar happen in the first few minutes at Lakeside a couple of years ago, but it resolved itself. I dropped into the small chainring up front and did some experimenting with the rear bar end shifter, but it obstinately refused to stay in place unless I held it.

So, I rode in the sub-optimal combination of small chainring and smallest cog for most of the way along Lake Drive, passing a heap of people as I went - to their credit, though, I was on my awesome aerodynamic time trial bike with aerohelmet and all, and passing lots of hybrid and mountain bikes. I had to give my undertrained legs a break a few times when the mostly-flat course rose slightly and definitely had a few pucker moments as the rear wheel would bounce around a bit on the very wet road after I hit a bump, but I managed to stay down in aero and keep cranking away at a respectable pace. A few ladies did pass me (most of whom did not bother to give any indication they intended to do so, which was worrisome as I was dodging slick manhole covers and potholes), but they mostly looked like pretty serious athletes. I was just happy to be rolling along fairly smoothly with my lack of training and cantankerous rear derailleur, sipping sport drink from my aerobottle - the only nutrition or hydration I'd take in through this short course race.

Don't mind me - just passing through.

The turn onto Metro Road to head back toward the race site around 8km in brought smoother pavement, but also a false-flat uphill into the wind (which was thankfully much lighter than last year). I spent a lot of time holding my shifter up in an easier cog, but when I'd hit a bump I'd have no idea what gear I'd be in when I landed. My shoulders and upper arms whined about being in aero for only the second time in the last 12 months, and my legs whinged about their lack of cycling fitness. The weather continued to cry for me, but I managed to arrive back at the dismount upright and with enough panache to do my old moving dismount.

Swing the leg over and try not to fall on your face.

15km bike: 31:36 @ 28.48kph

8/30 in W35-39 - 39/184 O/A

Of course, my bike almost immediately tried to fall over as I began to run, but I just barely managed to save it from going down and taking me with it. Off to transition again, while yelling to Tanker that my rear derailleur was distinctly uncooperative throughout my ride.

"COMPLETELY FUCT, I TELL YOU!"

I did, however, remember to take my helmet off as I passed through transition, so all was not completely lost. I was also pretty stoked to see there was only one other bike at my rack when I arrived - it seems I'd put in a decent showing after all! A quick shoe change, ditch the sunglasses, get moving while I throw my hat on my head, and out the arch to finish this thing off with the one part for which I should be reasonably qualified.

T2: 01:05

Of course, run fitness in a triathlon is partly an effect of bike fitness, which I was sorely lacking. I started to death whistle almost immediately in the soggy air, and never really stopped. I kept pushing, though, and passed quite a few more people along the way. The rain picked up again as I ran the very mild uphill to the turn-around, and I had to keep fussing with my race number belt as I trotted along - it seems at some point in the last year the elastic had begun to lose its snappiness, so it sagged quite alarmingly with all the bouncing of my stride.

Even my fat butt wasn't quite enough to keep it up!

Nevertheless, I managed to surprise myself by running faster than I have in at least two years - just a few seconds slower than my stand-alone 5k PR pace, despite tired legs from the bike and overall lack of multisport fitness. I had expected to chug along like the diesel I am after all the long, slow ultra racing I'd done this year, but in far less time than I had anticipated I was making the turn off of scenic Lake Drive into the chute to the finish!

Gotta get the ill advised racing gang sign in there, of course.

4km run: 21:08 @ 5:17/km

7/30 in W35-39 - 30/184 O/A

I got my greatly unexpected finisher's medal (not accustomed to those in multisport events this short!) from Paolina, and reflected that the whole thing had actually been a fairly fun time after all. Ooh, and my belly behaved itself, too!

w00t!

Official time: 1:06:37

7/30 in W35-39 - 30/184 O/A

(Official results here)

(Garmin data here)

While I did enjoy the race overall, and had more fun than expected doing my first women-only event, I do believe this might be the end of multisport racing for me. I have some serious goals for 2017 that are all in the ultrarunning realm, which may preclude any involvement in tri next year. It has nothing to do with the Ontario Women's Triathlon, which is a truly excellent race experience - Paolina Allen and MultiSport Canada put on a very high quality event that is accessible and welcoming to the newcomer while still holding the allure of a flat, fast course for more experienced athletes to go chasing PRs. The bike routing along Lake Drive gives beautiful views of Lake Simcoe - better scenery than the average tri, but still just not quite as alluring to me as a wandering singletrack trail through a forest..

Anyone want to buy a used wetsuit?

Why even tri?

I have a confession to make.

I have almost no excite for the 2016 triathlon season.

Sure, I'm still going to the pool a few times a week and even getting out on a bike here and there (now that the weather is finally starting to cooperate), but it's mostly just swimming to recover from running and some commuter cycling. For the last couple of years I've really been prioritizing running, and this year that focus has ratcheted up a notch or two.

Really, I think I may be falling out of love with tri.

Did...did I just say that out loud?

I do have my reasons, which I've spent some time thinking about recently. Namely:

1. Cost

Triathlon isn't cheap. I mean, neither is ultrarunning, but when you look at a dollars-per-hour-of entertainment (yeah, we'll go with that as a description instead of "hours-of-suffering") it's hardly even a contest. Tri might win out on distance, because you can cover quite a bit on the bike course, but in a price/time comparison ultra definitely has an edge. I understand it's because triathlon involves a great deal more overhead to produce a safe race - swim buoys need to be set out (which requires at least one boat), lifeguards must be brought in to supervise the swimmers, swim caps need to be provided, bike courses should be patrolled, there are tons of extra timing mats to procure, and the permits alone for producing a race are much more complex than just getting in touch with a conservation area or trail association and having a bunch of people show up to trot around in the woods. Hell, a lot of ultras don't even bother with chip timing because it's really not that difficult to write down the time that a runner comes past a line, but it's pretty much essential with the absurd number of split times (swim, bike, run plus two transitions) that tri races generate. I get it, and I don't grudge triathlon race directors charging more to cover their costs (or even turning a bit of a profit). That doesn't, however, mean I really want to pay for it.

2. Complexity

Racing a tri is a logistical nightmare, really. From packing up and trying to make sure you've got the yard-long list of gear you'll need to sport along just in order to get through the race - lord help you if you forget your cycling shoes at home! - through the setting up of transition, and then the actual racing...it's just so much faffing. Showing up 90mins before race time to stuff myself into a rubber sausage casing and wallow around in the water a bit to try to loosen up and get my heart ready to nearly burst from my chest. Try not to drown while negotiating my way through a gauntlet of flailing limbs and turn buoys. Endeavour not to fall on my face while attempting to remove a wetsuit, cap and goggles while running (or at least staggering)...only to arrive in transition completely out of breath and having to try to get the order of helmet-cycling shoes-number belt-pull bike from rack and run straight.

Even if I make it through all that, I'm only a third of the way done. I've still got another transition and the run left to go.

Somehow I need to get from here to there..

When I compare that to the easy-going nature of ultrarunning, it hardly seems like a fair contest. Show up at least half an hour beforehand to get my number on and use the restroom facilities. Meander up to the starting area, staying well toward the back 'cause I know my damn place. Sooner or later someone will say "go" or make a loud noise that I may or may not hear - when everyone in front of me starts heading into the woods I follow like a good little lemming. 

Pick up foot. Put down in front of other foot. Repeat until finished, too injured to continue, or dead.

That second condition can be rather relative, too.

As a bonus, the scenery tends to be much prettier, too. There are precious few off-road triathlons in this area (and history has proven that I attempt them at my peril), most taking place on country roads in rural areas. This means that pavement quality on the bike course can be bloody awful, and while rolling vistas of cornfields may be wonderful for feeding humanity they tend not to be sufficiently interesting to distract me from the horrible things the combination of uneven tarmac and the aero position is doing to my saddlery regions. 

Most of the ultras take place on trails, many of which are positively stunning in their rocky, rooty, mossy glory. I may fall on my face, but I'll generally be grinning while I do so because it's so very pretty.

It just feels...pure. I've often referred to racing an ultra as "going for a bit of a wander in the woods", because even on the worst day of ultrarunning there's going to be some point at which I simply lose myself in the glory of the trail.

I may not know where I am, but I'm right where I want to be.

3. Challenge

I originally started thinking about racing a triathlon back in the winter of 2008/2009. I had just begun running after spending about 8 months getting myself from "holy crap I've been attacked by the fat monster and can't ride a bike 2km up to the coffee shop without needing to stop repeatedly to catch my breath" into fairly decent shape, and thought that triathlon presented the ultimate challenge. Could I really swim, ride a bike and then run? Would I make it through a 750m - 30km - 7km sprint? I started hitting the pool regularly in January of 2009, added in cycling as spring rolled in, bought a triathlon bike (the same one I still ride - occasionally - to this day), and went about preparing myself in the dorkiest ways possible. I decided to race a 375m - 10km - 2.5km super sprint tri in June as a dress rehearsal, and then went to the race site and did my own swim-bike-run brick workout as a dry run before that.

I joined a tri forum or two, geeked out on details, and generally took myself far too seriously.

Which tends not to be the case at ultras.

I did ok in the super sprint despite it pouring rain for my very first race, and then made it through the sprint in September as well. I went a little nuts in 2010, racing 4 solo triathlons, a relay tri, a duathlon, plus a few other single-sport things, including my very first ultra at Horror Hill in October 2010. In total I have racked up 30 multisport races since June of 2009, all the way from super sprints through two half-iron (2k swim, 90km bike, 21.1km run) distance triathlons.

I've learned that not only can I finish a tri, I can do so while undertrained (see most of my race reports), with a broken wrist, or even a broken heart.

While I know there are longer triathlons out there, the available training hours I have limit my ability to put in the sheer volume of cycling required to race comfortably at anything above the half-iron distance. More importantly, though, I don't really have any desire to complete a full iron-distance race - I've done a century on my cyclocross bike once and the idea of spending an additional 20km learning to hate my bike in between a 3.8km swim and a full road marathon (which is a thing that sucks all on its own anyway) holds approximately zero draw for me. I may be masochistic, but I try to be marginally kinder than that to my soft bits.

The idea of spending increasingly long times frolicking in the woods, though?

I am convinced that it's only a matter of time before I attempt a 100 mile running race. I know it will require that I run an absurd amount of mileage per week, and I stand a very strong chance of not finishing my first attempt...or even my tenth.

I think that's really part of the appeal. It's both simple and incredibly difficult at the same time - as easy as putting one foot in front of the other, but as hard as walking across live coals with broken legs...which is pretty much exactly how I feel by the end of most ultras, yet with a deep sense of fulfillment.

I'm not completely giving up on triathlon yet - I do have plans to race a short one in September - but for the most part this year will be dedicated to one of the most ancient forms of human locomotion in all of its simplicity and purity.

I'm going to go out and run.

Yep.

Run drunk

No, that's not a suggestion.

Yes, I know that the beer mile is a thing. That's not what I'm talking about.

What I'm talking about is the effects of endurance exercise on higher brain function, specifically the cognitive impairment that results from long events.

There are a couple of studies that back up what I've been noticing for years: if you exercise for a really long time, you end up pretty dumb.

Why do all these pink elephants keep following me?

Not in any lasting way (well, in my case..), but in a way that could put you in real danger.

Here's the thing: if you've raced any events longer than 90mins (enough to deplete your glycogen stores), you've probably noticed that you're not really in any condition to write your SATs by the end of it. Even basic math like "how many laps have I done" or "how high do I need to jump in o not to catch my foot on that AAARGH" can feel unreasonably challenging.

The problem is that your muscles are working hard and diverting blood flow - and thus both sugar and oxygen -  from your brain. To make matters worse, it's almost impossible to replace as much fluid as you're losing during a long event, so you end up dehydrated as well, which is the same thing that occurs when drinking alcohol. I really do use the term "run drunk" for a reason!

Not only does all of this drop the odds of you joining MENSA before the finish line - it can take some time to recover from the effects of putting your brain on a bit of a starvation diet. The same effect can be produced by exercising at high intensity for shorter durations, but since that tends to dissipate more quickly than exhaustive exercise-induced cognitive impairment, it's not as germane to my point.

I swear I have one, and I really am getting there. For now: courage.

Being run drunk (or cycling or swimming or skiing or multi-sport drunk, since any exhaustive aerobic exercise produces the effect) is usually just a cause of forehead-slappingl dumb moments during a race: putting your aero helmet on backwards coming out of the water at a triathlon, leaving the bike-to-run transition still wearing said helmet, taking a gel every 20mins instead of every 40mins (and wondering why your gut rebels), or being completely incapable of calculating distance/laps completed vs remaining. The sort of thing you laugh about later.

Pretty sure I've been outsmarted by plant life during a long event.

What's no laughing matter is the fact that some of this impairment can continue for hours after the event has ended, leaving a bunch of somewhat loopy athletes packing up their gear and getting into the driver's seat of their cars to head home.

Most of us know better than to get behind the wheel after drinking alcohol, but how many endurance athletes give a second thought to the danger they may pose to themselves and others by operating a motor vehicle after a long race? While I know as well as anyone how much you really just want to get home and scrape off the smelliness so you can put your feet up and eat your bodyweight in sugar and deep fried things dripping with cheese (or not - whatever your jam may be), I'm asking you right now to think about the sheer horror that could await you on your journey.

I know I'm incredibly lucky to have Tanker the Wonder Sherpa to drive me home from all of my events. Between the sheer fatigue and general idiocy that I've generated even from a lousy Olympic triathlon or 25k trail race (to say nothing of the half iron distance tris and ultrarunning events I've done, or the 100 mile, full iron distance and even 24hr events others regularly engage in), I'm sure I'd have killed either myself or someone else on the road home by now if I didn't have my faithful chauffeur. The way in which exhaustive exercise impairs cognition is exactly the way you need to be sharp in order to perform the subconscious analyses of traffic patterns and react quickly to changing circumstances when driving a vehicle.

I'll say it again: you are a danger to yourself and others out there if you're driving while run drunk. The effects are so noticeable and lasting in my own personal experience that I refuse to ride my motorcycle if I've trained or raced for over 3hrs in a day, since it takes up even more mental run time than driving a car. I don't care how beautiful the day is and if it's the only chance I'll have to ride in the next month: my bike stays parked for the same reason it would if I was on narcotic painkillers or had been slinging back shots of whiskey all morning.

Now, I understand that not everyone is lucky enough to have such an incredibly supportive spouse and sherpa - Tanker is one of a kind, and I'm incredibly grateful for everything he does for my pathetic little athletic career. However, I will suggest that there are a few ways that you can avoid getting behind the wheel while still goofy from a race:

1) Carpool. If you happen to know of someone doing a shorter distance race (or better yet - volunteering) at an event you're participating in that is long enough to leave you loopy, why not ask if they're willing to hang out and wait for you to finish up before heading out together? It's better for the environment and creates less traffic/parking congestion, too!

2) Take a cab or public transit. Yeah, I know this isn't always feasible due to distance, cost and availability, and who the heck really wants to deal with public transportation when you're sore and smelly? Still beats never being able to race again because you were hurt in a car accident, though.

3) Stay close by. Many races partner with a local hotel to offer great rates to athletes, and there will often be a shuttle bus to and from the event. You'll typically only be a few minutes' ride away from a hot shower, and even those few minutes will be spent in the company of other athletes high on endorphins who will actually enjoy swapping racing anecdotes with you instead of merely tolerating your post-race motormouth! Even if there's no race-specific hotel or shuttle, you'll be in better range to grab a cab affordably, or possibly even walk or ride your bicycle back to the hotel. You might even be able to work out a carpool with another athlete staying at the same place who will either be in better shape or has their own driver for post-race.

4) Have a friend or relative drive. This is really the best way to go, since it gets you home with the least amount of fuss and expense. I know that most races require you to get up at stupid o'clock in the morning to drive to some gawdforsaken location so far outside of town that you start to hear banjos, but I'm willing to bet every single one of you has at least one person with a driver's license that wants you to come back safely. Explain to them that you'll essentially be a taller version of a drunken circus midget by the time you complete this idiotic thing you're planning on doing, and you don't want to run the risk of hurting innocent people with a couple of tons of metal and glass afterward. Buy them a caffeinated beverage of their choice on the way to the event, preferably accompanied by something hot to eat (the one time I failed to buy Tanker the Wonder Sherpa a toasted bagel with cream cheese or sausage & egg breakfast sandwich on the way to an event, I broke my wrist during the race. Just saying..). Let them nap on the way there if they like, and make sure they have the car keys so they can go get lunch while you're out running around in the woods like a crazed baby deer for hours on end. Offer to buy them dinner after the event, a case of beer, or that Faberge egg they've had their eye on (depending on their tastes and/or your budget). Seriously - show your appreciation for ripping them out of their cozy bed and wasting their day, and maybe they'll even agree to do it again for you in the future.

It seems to work for Tank!

5) Have a nap. If all else fails and you simply must drive yourself home, try to find a way to get your head down for at least 20mins before you depart. Bring a pillow, hop into the passenger seat and lean it back, toss a blanket on and saw some logs for a bit. It's still not a great option, but at least you'll be a little bit more on your game.

Whatever it is you do, I implore you to find some way to avoid driving while under the influence of endurance exercise. Whether it's as simple as the inconvenience and expense of having to repair damage to your vehicle or the crushing heartbreak and guilt of taking an innocent life, the consequences of driving while impaired - whether it's from direct causes like alcohol or drugs, or just the side effect of a long race taking its toll on your higher brain functions - can destroy lives and shatter families.

Please. Don't drive run drunk.

(Especially if this is your idea of a duathlon transition beverage)

Georgina Sprint not-a-Triathlon - September 13th, 2015

Showed up at the race site in 10c/50f and it's raining bloody sideways.

ALL THE YIPES

We see a bunch of people packing up their bikes and heading out. They clearly have at least as much NOPE as I do for this race, but I decide I'll go pick up my kit and see what the story is anyway...mostly because we'd rolled out of bed at the buttcrack of dawn and driven 2hrs to get there. I actually struggled into the lower half of my wetsuit in the car just to keep me warm on the way to kit pickup, leaving most of my clothes in the car to stay dry while I threw on my MultiSport Canada hoodie and wrapped a space blanket I found in my transition bag around me..

I get my first look at Lake Simcoe and see three foot breaking waves. My NOPE level increases dramatically. As I line up to pick up my race bag, though, it's announced that the swim is cancelled - this triathlon just turned into a DUathlon, consisting of a 5k run, 20k bike, and another 2.5k run. Gee, good thing I put my wetsuit on. 

I resolve to at least start the damn thing. I rue the fact that I'd given a long, hard look to my Vanderkitten vest as I was packing up my bag the day before, but decided against bringing it because I've never actually bothered to stop in T1 before to put it on (despite having done some seriously cold racea). I pull out a pair of air travel socks with the toe seams snipped that live in my transition bag - a.k.a. my ghetto arm warmers - and use the scissors that I keep in there to cut myself a chunk of space blanket, which I unceremoniously stuff down the front of my trisuit in an effort not to freeze to death.

Purple scarf chick is not amused.

With less than 20mins to the start, I toss my bike, my helmet, sunglasses and cycling shoes into a rack spot in transition (leaving everything else inside to stay dry), then line up with my wave in the corral by the finish line to start this bit of madness. Oh, and I slapped on my usual smiley face, because what the heck else can you do at this point but laugh?

It's hard to draw on the back of your own calf.

I start at the back of the pack, and having run almost 19km the day before, figure I'll probably stay there. I just trot along as easy as possible, knowing I'll need to save some legs for what promises to be a terrifying time on the bike. I hadn't done a duathlon since Victoria's back in May of 2010, but I remember how my legs felt like they were filled with cement after the first run then.

Behind me is the reason the swim was cancelled.
The water safety team couldn't even get the course marked.

It was pretty damn humbling being less than 2km into the first run when the M40-49 men started coming past me like I was standing still, having started 3mins behind me. I did pass one or two people along the way, but certainly wasn't in any danger of being competitive. I sure wasn't going to sneak up on anyone, either - my space blanket wrapping made a loud rustling noise with every step, bounce and jiggle...and there were a lot of those.

Just floatin' along - nothing to see here, folks.

The run course was nice and flat, which meant the extra insulation I'm carrying around wasn't the liability it could have been. With nothing but a bit of silver saran wrap, a couple of socks and my spandex to trap bodyheat, this was taking #TRUSTTHECHUB to a whole new level, but fortunately there was plenty of it in which to put my faith. I did eventually make it back to transition, doing what I do best.

Acting the insufferable fool.

5k run: 30:18 @ 6:03/km

166/194 O/A - 60/80 W - 8/11 W35-39

Into transition, I toed off my tri loafers only to have the insole of the right shoe pull halfway out. Damnit, I'm going to need that again. I bend down to straighten it out and my hamstrings stage a protest at what they feel constitutes cruel and unusual punishment. To complete the experience, I nearly rip off my hanging-on-by-a-thread right big toenail while putting on my cycling shoes, then dump a puddle of water on my head as I put my helmet on. Welp, nothing here is working out - might as well ride.

HI HO CHUBBY, AWAAAAAAAAY!

T1: 01:38

So the bike course would be incredibly beautiful in nice weather. Most of the first half is along Lake Road, hugging the Southern shore of Lake Simcoe with the view of the water and endless beaches only occasionally interrupted by a hedge, fence or a few trees. This, of course, meant there was precious little shelter from the 40kph/25mph wind gusts coming off the lake as they tried to blow my bike flat. Triathlon Ontario had gone so far as to ban the use of disc wheels for this race due to the conditions, but even with standard road wheels it was sketchy as hell in the blowing rain. I nearly got wiped out by some guy coming past me without any warning as I was about to dodge a frost-heaved manhole cover (seriously people - is it THAT HARD to say "on your left?"), and I played airborne caterpillar with a couple of people. I wasn't pushing things too hard, partly because I was fearful of overspending my traction budget (horizontal track stands suck) and partly because I didn't want to roast my legs. Once I made the turn onto Metro Road to head back toward the race site, though, I took advantage of the flat course and more predictable wind patterns to make up some time. I left it in the small ring but spun up to just over 30kph and started passing a lot more people in front of me, trying to offer a kind word to my fellow competitors out braving these ridiculous conditions. I thanked the police & volunteers profusely, too - a chilled as I was on the bike, it would be so much worse standing around in that weather just to herd a bunch of spandex-clad idiots around a course. My space blanket breastplate was probably the only reason I didn't go hypothermic, and while it bunched up uncomfortably by my left hip at one point, I was able to get it sorted back out without leaving the aerobars.

20k bike: 43:05 @ 27.85kph

142/194 O/A - 42/80 W - 6/11 W35-39

Safely to the dismount line, it was no time to start taking chances, so I once again came to a complete stop and gingerly stepped off before lumbering back into transition. I couldn't feel my feet, but that's nothing new for anyone who's raced Lakeside before.

I swear I'm actually running here.

Back into my tri loafers after ditching my bike, helmet & glasses at the rack, then on to the last leg of this foolhardy little adventure.

T2: 01:30

Still illin'.

Feeling the chill from the bike as I set out, there was no longer any reason to try to save anything and plenty of motivation to work hard in order to warm myself up. I'd forgotten to put a gel packet into my bento box on the bike, so grabbed a cup of sport drink (at least I was told it was spoort drink - it tasted like plain water) from an aid station in an effort to get a bit of a carbohydrate boost.

I was actually feeling pretty good and passing a number of people along the way - the flat course and chilly weather was well suited to my post-injury flabbiness.

Puddle jumping

Through the turn-around and back down a very mild decline toward the finish, I threw down with all I had left in my meagre stores of fitness and endurance. I did actually manage to tiny bit of a kick as I approached the muddy chute.

My smiley face got a bit grubby.

2.5k run: 14:05 @ 5:37/km

138/194 O/A - 41/80 W - 5/11 W35-39

Across the line with no flair or flourish, I had to admit I was glad I hadn't just packed up and gone the hell home. Against all odds, I'd managed to enjoy myself out there!

But still so, so done.

Official time: 1:30:35

138/194 O/A - 41/80 W - 5/11 W35-39

Having now done one with more than a single season's racing experience, I may consider racing a duathlon intentionally again in the future. I also wouldn't hesitate to race at Georgina again; on a more pleasant day it would be a very fast course for PR or benchmark chasing, and the views of Lake Simcoe on the bike an run courses are simply breathtaking.

I don't know what it says about me, though, that upon seeing a girl out running in our town just after getting home my first thought was "Gee, I should really get out for a run.."

Sit back, relax..

..and just watch me flounder.

Official tshirt of my tri season 2015

So the inaugural Georgina triathlon is this Sunday, and I will be lining up at the start with bugger all hope of doing much more than (possibly) surviving it.

I'm still quite fat and out of shape, and have no intention of tapering for this race - I can't afford to lose any more time to build run distance for the Vulture Bait 50k in 5 weeks (YIKES), so I'll be jamming out for over 10 miles of running on Saturday afternoon. I managed to get in 49.5km last week despite spending the weekend thoroughly enjoying myself whooping it up with friends at a motorcycle rally, and I should be over 50k this week. Not what anyone would consider "enough", but better than the 12-18km/week I was putting in back in July, plus those couple of 0km weeks.

Historically, the last tri of the year has generally been a "just for the sheer hell of it" race anyway. At least this year it's only a sprint rather than an Olympic distance, so I'll only have to suffer for somewhere between 1.5-2hrs rather than over 3.

And, of course, with all of my "extra insulation" I should have no problems with chilly morning temperatures at De La Salle Park - the flub should provide some extra buoyancy to prevent me from drowning, too, assuming I can manage to jam it all into my wetsuit.

#TRUSTTHECHUB

Wish me luck - I'm definitely going to need it!

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!