The head shave...

Below begins the process of turning me from devil-may-care-hair-in-the-wind Anthony to aerodynamic-bouncer-at-the-Roxy-Anthony

It was a little painful....

Here we go... The new look...

And with my crew... Alex, Joyce and Vince (the artist of all this). You can see the full album at http://ca.pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/alex42k/album?.dir=/6b93scd&.src=ph

It's all for a great cause and believe me it feels AWESOME to run and swim in so far... I haven't tried biking yet though so that is the next test... Where's the bandana???

What an experience, though. It was great to have so many people at the Running Room to be part of the moment and watch what seemed like a few pounds of hair fall off before our very eyes. So far this little project has raised almost $1000 towards the Ironcops for Cancer program... You can also help by clicking on the "Link" located on the right side of the blog (Ironcops for Cancer).

I went swimming yesterday and it felt euphoric... Running has felt pretty good too. Was the hair holding me back? Sorry I am just having some fun with this for a while!

This weekend is a long weekend and I have a 160km bike ride tomorrow... The heat should be interesting and it is the first opportunity to try out the new Cervelo...

I'll get more out later!

It really can be about the bike.

I had an amazing ride on Sunday up near 100 Mile House. I rode from a lake just outside of Lone Butte, to Little Fort, and back. Approximately 146 km all said and done. The view was amazing and the roads were, at least half the time, as smooth as silk. I definitely ran into some rough patches and had some massive hills to climb… Actually, I would say I had the equivalent of three Richter’s Passes on this ride. This was great for training, and the heat of the day was upwards of 100 degrees near the end of the ride, which, again, was fantastic training for the Ironman. I have not ridden in that kind of heat in a long time, and I really had to watch my nutrition and water intake in order to make sure I made it back to the lake, where I spent a few days with my parents, brother and his new wife.

Part of the magic of this ride was also the acknowledgement of being able to share the experience with my family. My aunt, uncle, cousin, parents, sister-in-law and brother were all around when I finished, and it was really special. I find often that I feel as though I am excluding my family from the journey that I am on. It makes me sad actually, as I want so much for them to be a part of this. I think I am not different from most “kids”, in that I like it when my parents showed up for my baseball and hockey games. Even though I would rarely say anything, it was still always something I remember about playing sports. Watching my Dad out in left field viewing the game from the bleachers, and my Mom sitting behind the fence keeping score. My uncle even helped coach… Actually, he coached one of the opposing teams one year and it was fun to actually beat his time once J. I really miss that experience. Again, of course, I never appreciated it at the time, but just having them around validated what I was doing. And it was fun to have everybody around, doing something and sharing a day at the ballpark together.
Endurance races present challenges to bringing people into your life. It’s not like I can have Mom and Dad come out to a practice one day and watch. They come to some of my races, but I really only see them once, maybe a couple of times, and that’s it. I know if it was more of a spectator friendly sport they would be around more, but it just isn’t. When I took off for a 6 hour workout (with the brick of 20 minutes at the end it was around 6 hours), I half thought maybe one of them might drive out to see me somewhere.

The thing is, they may not realize it, but the training I do now is the result of their being around for years before. Their presence at my games let me know that sports was important. And don’t get me wrong, they are knowledgable fans. My Mom and Dad know more about baseball than most people. My Mom kept score of most every game and for those of you who know baseball scoring, it’s a fine art that few can master properly. My brother and I were both decent baseball players, and we have always been blessed with parents who viewed our activity level as being as important as what we accomplished in school or whatever.

My parents have taught me that practice is important. They also gave me the freedom to make choices about sports that I think made playing them all the more fun. I really loved baseball. I loved hockey too but I couldn’t get started in it. I was never pressured into sports, though. I simply picked the ones I liked and then my parents said “okay, then you gotta go to practice”.
Ironman and marathon training have become, for me, a bit of a retro-activity back to those days. It’s summer, and when I was a kid I was playing baseball throughout the summer, attending camps, and going and watching my brother play, as his teams usually made it further than mine J. It’s fun to play again at this, and to enjoy the outdoors, and to shoot for a goal. I think that all of this is part of something that my parents and family all supported as I grew up, and I’m reaping the benefits of it now. Being able to tell my mom and dad that I have done a race, etc. is something I look forward to. I know they are proud no matter what I do, how I do, or even if I have to drop out, but it’s still neat to do something great in front of them.

In 2002, Ironman was made incredible because of my uncle and dad burning rubber in a minivan around the Ironman course, meeting up with me in different sections and cheering me on. Seeing another one of my uncles, aunts and cousins in Oliver, where they were camping for the week, was very special. And seeing my Dad, Mom, uncle Erwin and Brother about 500 meters from the finish was so amazing I can’t describe it. I feel selfish because it seems to be “all about me” but I also hope that they all realize that I am able to do this because of them. And I know that it does come back, as I was able to help my mom start running again, my Uncle finished his first triathlon in years in 2003 and we ran the Khatsahlano race together in 2003, and my brother ran his first marathon last year, and actually proposed to his now-wife during the race. This whole sport has involved my family in some way, but in the biggest way, I am only able to be part of the Ironman experience because of the greatest people in my life… My family.

Zen... and the art of Ironman performance...

I have decided to turn my little fishing trip into a modified training camp for three days. There are some open highways up near 100 mile house and I will be riding from Lone Butte to Clinton and back, which amounts to roughly 140km of riding. There are a few small towns in between that I can use for bathroom breaks and water stops, so this could be a fun little trip. I just need to make sure I carry enough tubes with me! That will be on Sunday...

Then, on Monday, I'm going for a 12-14 mile run in the morning. The altitude should make for an interesting trial as will the roads. I think it will be a good ride and run and some of the solitude will be quite welcome. Plus it is unfamiliar "turf", which has me a little nervous about the conditions, the lack of knowledge of the terrain, etc.

"Man is a thinking reed, but his great works are done when he is not calculating and thinking. Childlikeness has to be restored with long years of training in the art of self-forgetfulness. When this is attained, man thinks yet he does not think." - D.T. Suzuki

The zen-like approach to thinking is a process of letting your mind focus on the moment of what you are doing rather than outside on those things that are presently outside of your control. It is being all here, totally present and absorbed in the moment and becoming connected to the environment you're in, the task, the person you're talking with, etc. It's the process of doing, rather than anayzing or judging.

When we try to take this approach with our training, it is difficult. After all, we're always thinking about the next moment, the race in three weeks, the race two weeks ago, next month's travel plans, etc. It's difficult to come back to the moment and just experience it for what it is, rather than lament what has happened or what is going to happen. We get lost focusing on technique and practice instead of letting our body naturally do what it is meant to do.

It's about getting into a flow, a rhythm, a "zone". The basketball player who is in the "zone" doesn't think about the trajectory of his shot, the perfect shot, the rim, anything. He just shoots. He's so in the moment that he just lets the ball go and it goes in. Hitters in baseball get on streaks. It's amazing. You just can't go wrong. I call it having my "mojo"... A reference to Austin Powers.

Danny Dreyer, author of Chi Running, explains it as letting your "body lead" your run, rather than your head. You don't think of lifting your legs, as your legs lift themselves.

I bring it up because it is something I am working on more and more. In fact every night I'm trying to calm my thinking, and get out of my head for a moment. I've also been doing it in some of my training sessions. Sometimes, I find it, that experience. I don't think, I am not distracted, I am just running, or swimming, or biking. And that's it. It's a weird feeling when you do snap out of it. Here's a good exercise for it:
Try not to think of something or someone. Trying not to think of someone is, still, thinking about them. The trick is to try not to think that you are not going to think of someone...

What purpose does this serve? It's easier to run and perform when you are in the zone, when it feels effortless. When you are counting every step, or every minute, or every stroke, it just becomes a chore... And over 12 hours I don't want to feel like it's a chore. I want to enjoy the moment, focus on the experience and let my body take me from the starting line to the finish line without interference from my brain...

Back Tuesday!

Got a hand pump, Tony?

Yes, the jokes are starting... On our group ride yesterday I got comments ranging from “Ah, I see you brought a hand pump” and “Can I loan you some CO2 cartridges?” It’s all in good humour and I definitely deserve it. Hey, if you play with the big boys be prepared to take the jokes that follow.

Actually it is quite funny to have that as your reputation. Being a cautionary tale for making sure you carry all the supplies you need is something I never thought I would be saddled with, but then again, nobody else has paid for that mistake lately. Needless to say I rather enjoy the ribbing, as I am of the mindset that we’re all one big family of athletes and I think we learn from each other’s success and mistakes.

I definitely am paying more attention lately and taking “snippits” of ideas from other triathletes as to how they approach different areas of the sport. Last night, for example, I talked with my coach about clothing for the Ironman, and he suggested that you’re better off changing shorts from swim to bike to run shorts during the race, because it’s more comfortable to start in dryer clothes and also tri-shorts just don’t have the padding that is comfortable for the long ride. I don’t disagree but I had been debating as to the value of wearing the tri-shorts vs. the full bike shorts. I figure, comfort is everything. The extra 30 seconds it might take for me to make the change will cost me when I’m chasing down Chris Lieto for the victory (which, by the way, has a snowballs chance in hell) but, for where I’m looking to go, the extra comfort level might actually help me run a little stronger at the end. Plus, just knowing that my seat won’t be as numb after the bike ride is a wonderful thought!

Last night I did the Cypress Hill Climb for the first time in my life. The climb is 2 sections of about 5km each. Some people go just to the 1^st section which is a lookout over the ocean (quite breathtaking, actually). I have gone to the first lookout before but never to the second. Of course, I had no idea where the “2^nd” lookout was, so after I lost the one person who was in front of me around one of the corners I just kept going, thinking it was coming up at any point. I tried in vain to catch a cyclist who was about 300 meters up the road, thinking it was one of the guys in our group, and when I got close, I realized that this person wasn’t with the group at all. All in all, I had ridden about 6-7 minutes more up the hill than I needed to before I turned around. Oh well, I guess an add-on for hill climbing never hurt anybody (although I was hurting). I managed to get my heart rate around 180 beats per minute and sustain that for most of the hill climb, which I was pretty excited about, since it just indicates to me that my comfort level is increasing on the bike. All told I rode 36 minutes uphill. And then came the fun part… turning around. When you get going on the downhill of Cypress Mountain it is quite a ride. I don’t know how fast I went down – probably around 65-70 kph - but I felt at a few points like I was about to take flight. What a cool feeling!!! The bike held up beautifully and smoothly (the GT 3.0 is still a great bike). Ah, sometimes it’s fun to ride!

I’m hoping to get up at the bright bright early hour tomorrow and go for a 3 ½ to 4 hour ride before work… I need to get my longer ride in on Friday as I’ll be away for four days and getting a long ride in will be difficult as I’m going to a lake in the interior. We’ll see how that goes, but I guess it’s not a matter of “if I feel like it” because I clearly won’t… It’s a matter of “get up, get moving and stop complaining.” Ugh, early night tonight! I’d also like to hit Sasamat Lake again tomorrow night (Friday) and get a nice lake swim in. I really feel that I could benefit from some serious sighting practice, as that was a sore spot in the race at Victoria. I think I cost myself 2-3 minutes with poor sighting, to be honest. I don’t expect to be perfect, but I shouldn’t be swimming 200-300 meters off course, should I?

There is no speedwork tonight as my coach, Dean, is racing at Ironman Coeur d’Alene this weekend, so he is out of town. I almost feel like I have a free night, though what it all really means is that I have to get the workouts in regardless… I just get to go on my own time.

I’ll make sure I bring my hand pump tomorrow for my ride, though… And the Cervelo is going to it’s tune-up tomorrow night!! I’m excited to get out on that bike next week.

Some pictures from the Victoria Half Ironman

These were all taken with my camera-phone so the resolution isn't perfect...


John and Dominique at our pre-race dinner at the Waddling Dog! Of course, I had to pry my eyes away from the Edmonton-Carolina hockey game, but I probably should pay more attention to John as he reads out the rules of the race...


Natalie at T-minus 1 hour to start time... Looking way too happy and relaxed...

Steve and Dominique after the finish... They look pretty happy! And they should. Both had strong days.

Lori Bowden finishing up as the 2nd place female... It's amazing how much of an icon she is in B.C. and for the sport. Part of my reason for staying with the triathlon scene was because of local role models like her. Always smiling, always friendly, and now she has a new "greatest fan" in her son, Tyson.

Our world...

I’m not going to get on a political junket here, but I am going to say something that affects us as athletes, and that is the condition of our air, water and food… Now, low and behold you would never imagine an outdoor enthusiast to be an environmentally “conscious”, so to speak, would you?

So, without further adding to the science and everything, I’ll just say this… I have asthma. It comes out mostly in spring and fall when the pollens are strongest, but I do get a sense of it on bad days of smog and pollution and, let me say this, I do not believe I should have asthma… I think it is absolutely pig headed for people not to see what we are doing to our air quality. I used to make jokes about the fact that the reason we have such beautiful sunsets is because of the light from the sun refracting off the smog on the horizon. I still think that’s funny, but I definitely see that there is a greater problem at work here. It’s not just me, but people around me have asthma in horrendous numbers these days. I remember as a kid there were, like, 2 or 3 kids who had bad allergies. Now we all are allergic to something.

This doesn’t seem right. My asthma can get so bad that I lose my voice, and I know that it has cause some lung damage do to excessive coughing during some 3-4 week stretches. I take an inhaler with steroids during those times, just to make sure I can still talk at the end of an evening. It’s that bad.

Again, I don’t think this is right. These pollutants and chemicals that we are taking in are causing increased cancer risk, disease and respiratory issues. As someone who intends to basically spend the rest of my life doing outdoor activity, I almost put myself at more risk being outside and active than sitting in a sterilized room all day. That I definitely don’t think is right. The fact that my asthma gets worse and worse each year is simply unacceptable to me.

Not to be political again, but I’m starting to see Al Gore’s point about becoming “environmentally neutral”, in that making sure you are carbon-neutral and not adding more pollutants to the atmosphere without taking at least an equal portion out.

As an athlete and someone who wants to participate in Ironmans until I am at a ripe old age without having to deal with lung problems or skin cancer or what-not just because I am outdoors, I’m just saying we all have a duty to leave no footprints and take only pictures…

Jumping OFF the soap box (I guess I shouldn’t view this as Speaker’s Corner), I’m having to plan out my week a little differently, since I will be heading up to the interior on Saturday to do some trout lake fishing – actually, I really rarely catch any trout but it’s fun to go out on a quiet lake and look at birds and occasionally see a moose or something – until Tuesday. So, I’m in a debate (with myself) about trying to ride 100km on Friday morning before work…. That would mean getting out at around 5am at the latest, and more likely getting out at 4:30am… The bottom line is that I need to get the ride in, and this looks like the best way. What time does the sun come up again?

I’m going to bring my bike and indoor trainer up with me. I figure I have a cabin anyway and I mind as well not let my training go completely off course while trying to get some R&R. Call it a little “altitude training experiment”.

When I come back on Tuesday, I have one more day until I get my head shaved and polished to raise money for the Canadian Cancer Society… At this point, I’ve let my hair grow for 2 months and I really am getting sick of it, and with the temperature getting up into the 20’s more consistently I’m finding my exercising to be quite overheated with the insulation on top of my head… Then again, what danger lurks beneath the surface?

Still, having a clean scalp will mean I stay cooler and don’t have to worry about a haircut until probably September. It also means polishing my head with sunscreen now daily, since 32 years of natural sunblock will now be gone…

It’s just another side story in this Ironman journey of mine. I wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t for the Cops for Cancer Ironman Team, which was one of my inspirational reasons for signing up to do the Ironman this year. Now it seems that both the Ironcops and the Ironman itself are joined at the hip. Most of the other guys who shaved their heads raised some good money for the charity, and I am hoping to net around $1000 or so out of it (actually I already have about $250 in donations or pledges). When I sum up the year in review, being a part of the Ironcops team will be one of the inspirations that has kept me working hard when times were tough. I think we all like to feel that we are a part of something bigger than ourselves and, while we can take the training and long hours by ourselves as our own personal missions, when it is possible to match personal and charitable missions together, I find that I feel I truly can have it all. As the Blazeman said, “whatever big thing you do, make sure you get it on film”… I’ll at least have some good pictures to prove “I was present in 2006”…

Regrouping

The next mountain to climb… the Desert Half Ironman in Osoyoos, BC! http://www.oliverhalf.ca/deserthalf_home.html

Literally, this is a mountain to climb. The first part of the bike leg is the 11km climb up Richter’s Pass, the signature hill portion of the Ironman Canada course. Now, for those of us who are used to cycling up Cypress Mountain or, really, cycling on 70% of the long routes in Vancouver, Richter’s Pass is really not that menacing. It's a steady climb, with a couple of straight flats to let you recover briefly. I think the fact that it comes right at the beginning of the Osoyoos Half Ironman is a little sadistic, because you're just getting your legs going again after a swim. Well, I don't think people organize Half Ironman races in order to make them "easy" on the participants...

Actually, most people say that Richter's Pass is not as tough as advertised when they first ride the course. Well, in reality, it isn’t, but that is not the problem it presents during the Ironman. The bike ride really shouldn’t be tearing us up in training, or on race day for that matter. It’s the cumulative effect of the swim AND bike that lead to how you feel when you start the run. I remember this well, as my back was so tight, and my legs completely fatigued, after finishing the ride in 2002 that the mere THOUGHT of running a marathon was enough to frighten the living daylights out of me. So, did Richter's Pass "kill me"? No, but the cumulative effect of that hill, with the rollers after, left me quite wasted for the final climb up to Yellow Lake, and that is where I suffered. I aim not to have that same experience this time around.

And that’s what we’re training for on the bike. We’re not training to have a Lance Armstrong performance on one day… We’re training to make our bike ride strong enough to leave us ready to run a marathon. Gaining 10 minutes by tearing up my legs racing up Richter’s Pass will probably cost me 20-30 minutes in walking time on the run. It’s a delicate balance that must be achieved, which is why doing a race or two of Half Ironman distance or greater ahead of time affords the opportunity to really work on the pacing, and to learn how my body will react to a long distance run afterwards.

This is probably why some of the single sport afficianados of running, biking or swimming, tend to have a somewhat disdainful approach to triathletes, since we're really not trying to become experts at each discipline for the most part, but trying instead to learn how to balance all three together and get the best result without sacrificing one or the other. It's a multi-discipline sport, not a single sport. It's true that Ironman training will help you swim, bike and run better, but if you want to become truly solid in one of those sports, you have to focus on it pretty much exclusively. I know as a marathon runner, it is tough to plan for a personal best on a marathon when I am running three days a week. I am getting the fitness, but the fine details of running 5-6 days/week are lost. It's the sacrifice I am making to become a better Ironman competitor. Much like an ultra-marathon runner might be sacrificing his or her marathon or half marathon times by running a lot of long distance at medium endurance efforts, and doing very little in speed work or short tempo runs.

And now some thoughts on racing:

While I enjoy about the training process, in that I enjoy preparing and building my strength and endurance, nothing substitutes getting out there and racing. It’s the whole thing I enjoy. Waking up at 4:30am just as the light is starting to come up outside, starting up some oatmeal or eating a banana just to make sure you get something in your system quickly, even though it seems you just get it “out of your system” an hour later… Then the adrenaline starts to kick in as you get to the race site, setting up the transition area, watching out for all the other athletes that day. You try your best to joke around with other racers, and socialize with each other in a friendly way, but we all know that each of us is in our own world right now, focused on what we each need to do in order to have everything set up properly and appropriately.

I always rack my bike and make a first trip to the washroom. Because of nerves and such, I tend to know I’ll have to go at least once, if not more, so I get in line as soon as possible, as the line tends not to be that long for the washrooms right away. It’s the half hour before the race starts that things get a little congested. Some people I see taking warm up jogs and I think that’s okay for an Olympic distance race, but for anything longer, I feel I am going to be getting enough running and leg movement throughout the day so I don’t warm up that way. Actually, I am learning to rely on using my swim as a pseudo warm up for the bike anyway.

Ah yes, there just is something about racing that gets you nervous, excited, self-doubting and proud all at the same time. I think it’s good to race logically and not to do it every single weekend, of course, but I think being a consistent participant helps ease the nerves a little, as you start to rely on experience and good sense instead of being pulled into watching every single other competitor and trying to mimic their patterns. After a few races, you start to develop good habits and processes of your own, and don’t “need” the input of other neurotic racers on the day of the race to validate or question your preparation.

In the end, Ironman is probably 50% preparation and 50% fitness. More than anything, the preparation makes you comfortable, relaxed and steady as you get to the start line. It really means that, when the clock hit’s 6:59 (one minute before race start time in most cases), you really have done everything you can do to get ready, and you know it. The only thing left to do now is get started…

Back to now… Yesterday I “got back on the bike”, so to speak. After the DNF of Sunday, I felt I needed to get back on that bike and go for a short ride to make my peace with my riding. I went for a relatively easy hour around Spanish Banks and UBC, and came back after being able to think through some frustrations of the day. I think I am discovering, more and more, that riding is a good way to get out and work out some questions or thoughts that are preoccupying me. I have previously turned to strictly running, my bread and butter, but now it is riding. Something about being on a bike and getting some speed going, pushing a hill and riding a downhill, makes me feel centered again.

I will be hitting yoga tomorrow morning and I have a 60 minute run and a 2500 meter swim tonight. Of course originally this was to be a planned recovery week, but obviously that is not necessary anymore. It’s business as usual and time to kick it into high gear.

I'm a little James Joyce "stream of consciousness" in my thinking today...

DNF'ing

“A refined ability to learn from failure and to grow through losses is necessary to achieve excellence in any human endeavor.” – Terry Orlick

I’ll recount the story in case it isn’t immediately obvious… I did not manage to finish the race today. In fact, I made it about 3km onto the bike ride before I hit the side of the road, flatted my front tire, and, in the process of trying to get myself back onto the “cleaner” road, managed to either pinch or do something to my rear tire, which left it seaping air as I came to a stop near the first turn of the race.

So, I have two flats, and, in a move that would soon be recognized as foolhardy and quite absent-minded, two CO2 cartridges with no hand pump. I chose NOT to bring the hand pump with me because I felt that two CO2 cartridges – which are useful for a speedy tire fill-up during a race – would be sufficient. They are… IF you don’t make a mistake with either of them, which I did. I accidentally fired one off trying to load it into the disposal device and, thus, was left with one full CO2 cartridge and a now questionable amount of pressure in the other one. Well, I hook up the unused CO2 and manage to fill up the rear tire, trying to pull it off just in time to use it on the front tire to see if I can at least get a LITTLE bit of pressure into that tire, at least enough to continue.

In short, there was not enough. After staring down at a half full tire and two empty CO2 cartridges, I began to look for options. Of course, had I a hand pump, this would be easy. Nobody was allowed to give me assistance as this is an official triathlon rule. Only other competitors can assist by passing gear or tools. That is a rule I actually was not sure of, and I asked someone who said I had to be self-sufficient… No outside help whatsoever. I later did discover this to not be the case after many of the bikers who I knew passed by….

So, I started to think of options… And I couldn’t come up with any. When one is in “race mode”, we are constantly problem solving. We assess every situation. “How do I feel here?” “What does this mean?” “What can I do with this information about my bike/swim/run/stomach/etc.?”. It’s a constant mental focus that is what gets you to the end. As long as you’re still doing that, you still have a chance to make it to the finish. I had run out of options in my mind… And, it was time to call it a day.

Once you realize you’re done, you’re brain starts to lose motivation. I realized there were a number of things I could still do. I could just get back to the transition area and pump my tire up with my floor pump, and go out and ride for a few hours while I waited for others to finish. I could also go for a run. I really didn’t feel like doing anything. I spoke to the volunteers and said I was out of the race. We had a nice chat anyway while I was watching hundreds of bikers pass me. Then an old friend, Andrew, came riding by as a spectator and I explained to him the story. He tried to persuade me to go out riding with him after pumping up my tires to full. To be honest, at that moment I just wanted to be alone. I was done talking to anyone. I was not looking forward to talking with anyone and having to explain things over and over again. I didn’t want to hear anyone’s “oh, that’s too bad”, or “I’m sorry” comments. Or the questions of “What happened?”. I know, this is a point of feeling sorry for myself. But, at that moment, I started to realize that I wasn’t going to get a chance to see what I could have done on this day.

Moments like this have a way of really hitting you. Sometimes it’s doubt, it’s guilt, it’s self-damnation.

So, I rode sheepishly back to the transition area, and I just let the disappointment go through my brain for a few minutes. It’s easy to indulge in this, and I was allowing that to enter in. Then, I stopped at transition, and started chatting again, albeit at first reluctantly, with some of the other volunteers. I answered the questions above, removed my timing chip, and handed it in. Amazingly, though, I started to feel a little better. I realized it was not a “right” of mine to have done this race or even finish it. That was something that was part of the struggle of the day.

I think I stopped taking the “loss” (my new word for describing a poor race performance or a DNF – did not finish) personally at this point. I realized that I was not the loss, but that this day I lost. I experienced “losing a game”. Then, thinking again like a hockey player (or baseball, or football, whichever you relate to most), I realized that I was still “me”. I was still the same person I was a couple of hours ago. I’m in the same physical shape, I’ve trained the same way, I’ve prepared for a race, and I’ve lost. That’s all!

I thought about a car race as something similar, and how it feels for a professional driver to crash into the wall and be out for the weekend. What does the driver do?

Come down on himself (or herself)? Stop enjoying car racing? Quit forever?

Well, no. I think you have to look at these as examples and model the thought process of champions. The Edmonton Oilers were down 3-1 in their series with Carolina, and they were all but written off for the Stanley Cup… Now, the series is 3-3 and we’ll find out tomorrow if they can stage the greatest comeback in over 64 years of Stanley Cup championships.

Even the greatest athletes and performers lose, but the greatest of them develop strategies to help them learn or benefit from these losses. Nobody likes to lose, but the true champions don’t view it as a personal disaster or a sign of personal inadequacy. They just decide that this time the approach they had didn’t work, or they weren’t focused completely. They don’t tear themselves apart in response to losing. They simply analyze the loss, and prepare themselves better for the next opportunity.

To lose is to be human. The test is turning the immediate loss into the chance for eventual gain as smoothly, intelligently and soon as possible.

And it is good to recognize those matters that are within your control and those that are outside of it. Flat tires are, in part, pure bad luck. And they happen to almost everybody at some point or another. And, if you race enough, you’re going to get a flat tire during a race. I’d like to think that I had enough good karma to avoid such things, but again, that would have to mean that a flat tire was something personal…

I have failed to meet a goal that I felt I could. I failed to break the 5 hour mark (a long-shot), the 5:30 mark (a realistic goal) or a personal best (5:55 or better). Okay. In fact, I have not even finished.

However, I didn’t TRY to fail. I didn’t go out to fail. I didn’t go out not to give 100% of myself to the race. I was prepared, I was ready. I had a pretty decent swim. In fact, I actually had a personal best in the swim. I swam 38 minutes and 30 seconds, or thereabouts, which is just about a minute faster. I had sighting problems due to old goggles which need replacing (another lesson to learn!). It could be argued that, in my over-zealousness of the race, I had made a couple of key mistakes. The first being not to bring a hand-pump with me on the ride. The second to be to keep my mind concentrated on the road and be conscious of debris. The third to know the rules (had I made sure I knew about having other competitors help, I could have asked for a hand pump from SOMEONE in the race). I can add some others: making sure I carry an extra CO2 cartridge comes to mind right now as well…

So, this particular loss has turned out to be a glorious opportunity to learn something that would otherwise have been difficult to learn under “positive” circumstances. The bottom line is I need to prepare for “worse case” scenarios and be extra prepared, not relying on too few resources to get me through. Carry the pump! It’s easy and doesn’t add much weight!

Mentally, also, I have to acknowledge the challenge of putting this all in perspective. I’m learning how to cope with my own losses, both the ones that are my responsibility and those that are not. It a weird way, this is like a dating relationship gone bad, for apparently no reason. I’ve seen those lately too, and the funny thing is that it is easy to take things too personally, even when they are not really personal. I have the opportunity, in loss, to get to know myself better, test my own strength and re-examine my priorities. Also, I gain perspective on how this all fits in. Triathlon is supposed to be fun, exciting, and rewarding. We risk disappointment when we put our heart out there to wish, hope and dream of something great. Disappointment is, really, a part of the experience sometimes. It doesn’t always feel good, but it is, nonetheless, the one thing that makes finally attaining a goal something more delightful and precious. We have to risk in order to be rewarded. If I wanted safe, as I’ve said in previous blogs, I would stick to something easier. But I’d be less fulfilled, and realizing that I have to accept the possibility of loss. It’s part of the drama and excitement that is sport, and life, and love. Life is full of ups and downs, forward leaps and backwards slides, and plateaus. Stocks go up and down, but over history the market always ends up going up (from my financial advisor days). As long as things keep looking up, there are many other mountains to climb.

Okay, so I failed to accomplish the goal I set out for. But this is not the goal race of the year. This was, in essence, a preparation race, with the bonus of seeing where I was in my physical training through how I performed in each discipline. It cost me a little money to go to Victoria, and I didn’t get a full training weekend in. But, there is a positive there too….

I did get to see some friends have great races. Dominique, who I stayed with in Victoria, had an awesome race. She not only raced a half hour faster than her previous time, but the bigger evidence was in how she was beaming after the race. She was very happy with her results and with how her race went overall, and I think she feels confident about her training heading forward towards the Ironman. The same, I think, can be said for our other roommate for the weekend, Natalie. She had a great swim, and I can tell that she’s pretty pleased with her results as well.

And, watching some of the others from the North Shore Triathlon Club, like John L. with his first triathlon, Nick with a sub-5 hour result (that is AMAZING) or Karen with a strong finish despite having had IT Band issues all year, was worth sticking around for. You can learn a lot watching others compete!

While being a spectator was not what I had in mind, it was definitely worth being around and being inspired by the performances and attitudes of others. This became their day, and each of them had a good story to tell after. A war story, too. I told mine, and it was short, but I knew I didn’t want to get too much into it, for fear of taking something away from everybody else’s days. It would do me no good to upset myself or my friends, or my family. It doesn’t help my future training or performance to lament on a DNF. I am disappointed, but I have to look at the learning experiences that this day has given me. And there are many. I know my over zealousness and generally optimistic attitude has it’s place, but sometimes optimism won’t stop two flat tires… So, I need to take some extra time to consider the possibilities of things NOT going well, or right, on race day. What will I do? How will I be prepared? Now I have an opportunity to make sure I think about as many possibilities as possible. And then, knowing I’m ready, focus on the positives. I can also calm down after the swim, making sure I pay attention to the road, and minimize my danger by simply remaining cautious and aware, especially as I get moving.

What did I learn about myself? What did I learn about those around me? What did I learn that can help me in the future? Now I started to see the losing as a positive experience. It is amazing how less than ideal circumstances have an interesting way of putting you back into control of things.

Oh, and by the way, I discovered the majority of this after packing up my gear, packing it into my car, throwing on my running shoes, and running 10k around beautiful Elk Lake. Nothing like a nice run in the park to put some positive perspective on losing…

And that is my race report for the Victoria Half Ironman! It was a seminar in triathlon preparation 101… I’d say it was worth the $185, and THAT includes a hoodie…

Victoria Half Ironman (pt 1, the race plan)...

Here is the race plan for Victoria:

Swim: 1st couple of minutes, just move out with the craziness that comes with the start of any open water swim. It's nuts! The next 1k or so, just relax and get into a pace that is comfortable. At the last 1k, stretch it out and work hard. Kick a lot more near the end just to warm up the legs for the ride.
Time goal range: 36-44 minutes

In the transitions, apply suntan lotion and basically I plan to be ready for the bike, as I will where my whole race uniform during the swim. I will have my shoes on my bike (clipped in) and also will use elastic bands to attach them to the bike (so they are easier to move).

Bike ride: 1st 5-7 km I'll just try to relax and spin my way into a rhythm. Dean has advised me not to drink or eat anything until after this time, as it's better to be warmed up before starting into the food. After that I want to start stretching it out over the first lap (25 km approximately) and get into a speed. I should try to keep my heart rate in the 155 average range, and climb as necessary out of the saddle. The second lap will be an opportunity to pick up the speed a bit and work my legs, and the third will be similar to the second. On the last 10k stretch, I'll top up the fluids and start spinning in a slightly easier gear heading into transition to get the legs relaxed and give them some recovery.

Bike aim: 2:45-3:10

The run! This is a 2 loop (10k each) course which makes it easy to plot out pacing. I should be running around 165 bpm average after about 2 miles and just keep that through the first lap. After that, i can pick things up a bit and use the mile markers to time my miles, aiming to pick up the pace over the last 5k with whatever I have left.

Run goal: 1:35-1:50

Total goal: 4:56-5:44

Obviously, a faster times means more things have gone really well, but I have to be satisfied hitting each goal as best as possible. I am figuring a really good idea will be if I meet those bike goals. As I've said before, that's my weakest part, and getting anywhere in that goal would be great.

Of course, you have to plan for the fact that there is the possibility of a flat tire, or something else, so I'll need to re-evaluate if those situations come up. But, all in all, a fairly reasonable plan...
I leave for the ferry at 8:30am or so tomorrow, hoping to catch the 10am ferry over. I'm going to put in a 20 minute swim/bike and run when I get settled there just to stretch out the muscles a little.

A few of us will be watching the hockey game that night. That's pretty relaxing enough!

Logic v. Artist

Logically, this is all quite useless… The Ironman, an ultramarathon, marathon running, etc. it’s beyond “health”, as I’ve said before. And, logically, that keeps it unsettling.
Logically, I am told to “take it easy”.
Logically, I am told to “be safe on the road”.
Logically, I am told that “Ironman will consume your time, your precious time…”
Logically, I am told many different things.

I think our brains are always in a battle between the “logical” way of thinking and the “artistic” way of thinking. Here’s what the artist thinks:

“Wouldn’t it be cool to finish in the top 100?”
“Hey, I love my new bike!”
“I get to have a beer after Sunday’s race” (okay, that’s maybe not my artist talking)
“Let’s see if I can push harder”
“Let’s see what I am capable of”
“Why not?”
“That girl is cute”

I threw that last one in there because my artistic side tends to think randomly J… It’s not very cooperative with helping me organize a theory here…

My point?

I think the artist is always looking holistically at what’s going on, whereas the “logician” is looking for the cause of the symptom… Logic is equating things so that I can make sense of it, live in certainty, and not rock the boat.

Artist is saying “push a little harder (even though it MIGHT hurt)”, “don’t settle”, “I could be really good at this”. It’s uncertain, it’s in dreamland. It’s a series of unrelated thoughts that all don’t make sense except that they all happen together.

Ironman, I think, is nurturing the artist within. The drive comes from the creative side of our lives. This is not the side that earns a living, eats, rests, beats the heart, etc. We need that logical side too in order to sustain life, but the creative side is, truly, what we live life FOR.

I tend to say the same things over and over again, and in reality this journal is just a daily (or somewhat daily) reflection of where I am that day. Trust me, things are happening in my life that have nothing to do with Ironman. If you can believe that! The process of just putting down my thoughts on Ironman, make the Ironman an integral part of my daily routine, and I use this as a way of focusing the other areas of my life that are also important. Ironman, though, really is becoming a metaphor of life for me. I used to think that was so, well, melodramatic and a bit clichéd. But now I kind of realize that it’s in these passions that we find out about ourselves. Irrelevant activity is where I find true happiness.

A race is an artistic work in itself. It's a painting, a short story, a long story, a play, a drama, a comedy, a lyric, a poem... It unfolds as it’s own story and set of chapters, and my role in it is to play it out to the end. To contribute to it as a participant I am inserting a character into the story and, conversely, inserting a story for my character to navigate through (figure THAT out logically :)). My role in a race is to push the person in front of me, or behind me, to his or her own best ability. In order for someone to win my age group, I have to come in 2nd, or 3rd, or 4th. Otherwise, there is no age group to win.

See, we’re all interconnected in this. A race is no race of one, it’s a race of many. Each of us are going to rely on each other to help us become something greater. And we are all something greater at the end of an Ironman. It’s amazing that something so irrelevant, so playful, can become so significant to each of us. Like someone finishing a 10k race, or their first marathon, or their first 20 minutes of running without a break. Instead of questioning the logic of the feeling of accomplishment, embrace it, because that feeling is what creates a better life!

Agree? Disagree? What do you think?

“The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity. The creative mind plays with the objects it loves.” – C.G. Jung

To better explain why I have a new bike, my uncle Erwin has lent me his for the season... I am so grateful, not because my GT is a bad bike, but because this one is great for racing Ironman distances and it is always cool to have a new toy to play with (c'mon, I think that's the real reason).

I'm into a slight taper week this week, although I really only see one or two things as being part of the "taper" concept... My swim mileage is a little lower and I obviously won't be doing a long ride or run on Saturday or Sunday. The biggest keys during your race week are in nutrition and rest, and I am diligently trying to adhere to both disciplines. I'm sticking to my 8 hours of sleep/night and have even resorted to taping The Daily Show and The Colbert Report (really the only reasons I ever stay up to watch t.v. anyway) and watching them in the morning. I really need Tivo though because my VCR is not recording properly at all... I guess it's outlived it's 10 year lifespan.

In getting ready for the weekend I plan to head up on Saturday morning sometime, giving me an opportunity to do a short swim, bike and run in the morning, and have breakfast at home. I've stopped having any alcohol since Friday night (not that that's a HUGE stretch) in order to make sure I am resting properly and not dehydrating. While in Victoria, I'm staying with 2 other people in one room, all of whom are doing Ironman this year. It's sometimes fun to see what other people's preparation habits are... I just hope I don't get thrown out the window for whistling or my snoring problem (:... (no I don't have a snoring problem as far as I know).

The new ride...

Take a look at the new bike... Okay, not new, but thanks to my uncle, I have this bike for the season!!! Next week I'll get it fitted and tuned...

Trusting process... looking beyond results...

I have often told my clinics to think “I am a marathon runner…” even before they complete their first marathon. The practical argument I make is that people who train to golf are golfers, people who train to play hockey games are hockey players, and people who train to climb rocks are rock climbers, etc. So, why is someone training for a marathon NOT a marathon runner already? Is the difference a medal around your neck?

In the wild kingdom, animals do what they are made to do… Lion’s hunt in a certain way… they hunt like, well, lions. They don’t hunt like buzzards, or like alligators, etc… They hunt like lions. They don’t question whether there is another way to hunt, they just do it the way lions do. Eagle’s soar like eagle’s, not like seagulls. So, if I think about it, we run like marathoners because we are, well, marathoners… Being a “successful” marathoner is another story (depends on your definition of success) but, for now, you have to realize that you are a marathoner the moment you decide you’re training for one. Or, at the least, you need to start acting like one.

And that’s where I get into the process, rather than the results. It is the process which makes us athletes, not the results. We are inspired to attempt a certain distance or goal, by whatever within us has given us this drive and determination. Ironman is not something you do on a whim, you are called to it. There are lots of folks who have no desire to even try to train, and that’s fine. That’s them. Whether it happens to be because you have a friend who trains for the Ironman and you think “I could do that” or you read about one of the many inspirational Ironman stories, something about it captures your (and my) imagination and causes us both to stir and think of a possibility…

For some, it will be climbing Everest. For others, it is a calling to serve the church, or build houses in 3^rd world countries, or build a company. Each of us is moved by different interests, and mine is Ironman. I also endevour to build a business, to be a writer, etc. but right now, in this moment, I am driven to complete the Ironman.

I see other triathletes toil in cells all over the lower mainland on Sundays, each riding in their own groups and training for something (some for Ironman, others for Half Ironman, etc.). We have a monk’s devotion to waking up on Saturdays (like a calling) and, like monks, some of us get these visions of glory, visited upon us on a breakthrough bike ride or a sudden feeling of an effortless run. And some of us see it at a distance, having progress come slowly, but still remaining stoutly devoted to the little voice inside us that says “keep trying”.

All this comes in planting the seeds of training, trusting in the process, and being around to cultivate the harvest when it sprouts. Some plants take months, some take days, but we can’t make ourselves grow faster or stronger by yanking on the roots… We can only focus on our process, which is unique. Keep doing what we do, with long rides and intervals, and swim sessions with pull buoys. In that discipline, we are ALL Ironmen (women), regardless of where we finish on race day.

“Man is asked to make of himself what he is supposed to become to fulfill his destiny.” – Paul Tillich

Qualifying...

I think there is something to be learned in focusing yourself onto something you really, really want, and doing what it takes to make that happen. I am teaching the Marathon Clinic at the Denman Running Room, and I always love the motivations that people have for running a marathon. I think that similar ones exist for the person running the Ironman too. But really, sometimes the marathon clinic is a good barometer of what we want to achieve. There are many reasons why people run marathons.

One of the most common is to qualify for “Boston.” Boston, of course, being the Boston Marathon. It’s a tough race to qualify for and many people never do. One thing I have noticed is that the people who dedicate themselves to this goal, though, often get there. Now, to preface that, it takes hard work and it is NOT always welcomed immediately. I have told folks over and over to be patient with themselves and just do the best they can. That’s all you can ask. Eventually, many of them do qualify for Boston. And it’s remarkable the confidence and inspiration in many of them, except I hope that we all realize that “qualifying and running Boston” is really just a result coming from a journey of dedication, desire, attitude and focus.

But it’s nice to get that accomplishment. I have to say that qualifying for Boston changed how I saw myself. I think part of my struggle the past few years has been in getting away from that feeling I had when I qualified, all of a sudden realizing I had something for this running thing. But I let that go a little… And I’ve discovered that I want to get back to that sense of self again. I’m not one for results, but having a few that kind of give you that sense that “you ARE good at this” never hurts. I think the biggest sense of accomplishment comes from knowing you’ve put your best out there, regardless of what the results are. None of us are perfect, and qualifying for Boston, or Kona (Ironman World Championships) just means your closer to your potential than before.

Secretly, I like being able to say I have done something that only a few people do…

It's only the beginning...

"The biggest difference in ultra endurance performance is learning the humility and patience required to play your best hand. The best athletes race from where their fitness is, rather than where they'd like it to be." - Gordo Byrn

I had to go away on a business trip this weekend to Lethbridge. As a result, I woke up early, got my rides and runs in, and made sure I made a semblance of effort to stick to the program as laid out. I enter this week with my first Half Ironman of the season looming large and approaching fast (actually, it is on Sunday).

So, with all this in mind you would think I was nervous about the race. Remarkably, though, I think I am fairly calm. I am trying to be focused and determined, but nervous is not the feeling anymore. I have no doubts about my ability this time around, more so I have to figure out just how hard I CAN push things. In the past few weeks I have learned that I can push about 5-10 beats per minute harder (in heart rate terms) on the bike and on the swim than I previously had tried to do. I think that has more to do with the fact that I accept the heart rate as a signal rather than my own brain, and am sticking to the results that the heart rate monitor has been giving me. For example, pushing a little harder on the tempo bike ride last Wednesday, I know full well I would have eased back, thinking I was around 80% effort, had I not had my heart rate monitor with me. By using that, I forced myself to ride a little harder to get to the zone I wanted, knowing that this was where I should be able to hold myself for the period of time required.

Until I train my brain to think the way my heart rate monitor does, I’ll stick to the HRM. It’s far more objective than my head (I should use it for other things J).

I was reading an interesting article by Gordo Byrn on the 3-4 year training cycle, and how we are somewhat ill-focused when we think in terms of “one year”. It confirms some of the recent thoughts I have had about where all this is heading, and I have come to a little conclusion in that I will definitely continue racing long distance after this year and not give myself too much of a break. Depending on my schedule (work or school) for next year I’ll decide what kind of racing, but I feel in order to truly see the long term benefits of the Ironman-“life”, one year is simply too short a time frame. I am making this decision now so as to avoid the typical post-race emotional decision-making I am prone to do… So, I will be training for SOMETHING next year, either Ironman, or something of equal value.

Anyway, back to this week… It’s the Victoria Half Ironman this weekend, and so I have somewhat of a taper week ahead. Tapering is really just taking your workload and condensing it so that your quality is the focus and not the quantity. And trying to make sure you are fresh come Sunday. So, 8 hours of sleep is the goal each night, and lots of water, and eating balanced, etc… I still have to wait to find out what my coach says the “taper week” will consist of training-wise…

Top Ten Reasons Why I am Shaving My Head:

10) To see if the bump I got when I fell on my head as a child left a permanent dent.

9) Improve my aerodynamics while running.

8) So my swim cap will fit easier.

7) Ran out of hair product… And really, it’s just a hassle anyway.

6) To see if it will ever… gulp… grow back!

5) I lost a bet.

4) To see the look on peoples faces when I do it!

3) Tired of looking at new grey hair in the mirror.

2) Because I am scared to do it!

And the number 1 reason I am shaving my head:

#1 – to raise pledges for the Canadian Cancer Society through the Ironcops for Cancer 2006 Ironman Team….

Who am I: Anthony Epp, Ironcop Team member and Ironman 2006 competitor

When will this happen? Wednesday, June 28, 2006 @ 6pm

Where am I doing it? Running Room, 679 Denman St.

How to donate? ONLINE at http://www.ironcopsbc.com/Anthony%20Epp.htm

Or just e-mail me at anbepp@shaw.ca if you’d like to sponsor my head shave!

So THAT's who that was...

The article I have set up a link to above is written by Linsey Pickell, who won the Oliver Half Ironman this weekend. As she points out in her article, she really came out of nowhere to win the race and also to set a course record. Her race account is there along with her thoughts on turning pro.

I have begun to notice the obvious… I should say, the obvious has started to hit home. In order to get better, you have to dedicate yourself to getting the job done. All great performances began with an unwavering dedication to the task and a hard work ethic to take you through the journey. There is no easy way to success. And there is almost always risk involved.

I talk about dreams a lot. Not dreams as in “I dreamt about this”, but dreams in terms of what I want to be or how I want my life to go. And what would be ideal for me. I have found myself throwing a “dream” out there and quickly suffocating it before I start thinking any further. Nowadays, I catch myself in that pattern. What is wrong with believing you are destined for more? Many of the finest people I know have risked greatly to achieve what they desired. My friend Vince, who recently qualified for and ran the Boston Marathon, is a good example of this. I’ve mentioned him before, but it bares repeating, because the single-minded pursuit of his goal to qualify for Boston became so focused that you just knew nothing would stand in his way. But I think that came not from simply setting a goal and achieving it, it came from an unwavering sense that he would do this, no matter what it took.

In Linsey’s article she talks about going pro and having that transition period from being just one of us folks, out there trying to finish our first Ironman, to someone who could compete and, eventually, win. It all came down to a belief in yourself. It’s taking a look inside and thinking “if I do enough, I will make it…” I think when you take the “could” out of it, and say “if I work hard enough, I WILL make it…” you leave yourself little alternative. It’s dramatic, it’s bold, and it’s just what we all need.

Most of the people I know who actually read this blog are training for something. So, I’ll say this, eliminate “could” and “maybe” from your daily language. It’s too passive. It’s too wishy washy. It’s time to decide are you “in” or “out”. If you’re “in”, then spend the next few days/weeks/months dedicating yourself to what it is you are training to accomplish.

As for me? I keep that sub-10 Ironman in site. It’s a lofty ambition, but I know I have it in me when I put the pieces together. Will it happen this year? I have a better chance now than I did 4 years ago. I have the swim and run to make it happen… Can I put that bike together at the right time and the right place? That’s what 2 ½ more months of training will teach me.

I realize for that goal to be achieved I need a solid and consistent bike riding ability, and I need solid base level endurance with an ability to kick it up. I know it’s a long shot for this Ironman coming up, but this race is where I take my consistency and put it into practice. Who knows where I will get, but I know that I’ll be closer than before. Gordo Byrn, in his book “Going Long”, suggests that a good mental technique is to live and train “like an Ironman”. Act like a winner, act like a competitor. Be gracious, and live to a standard, morally, ethically, and with your training be pure, committed, and in the moment. In other words, pretend you’re already there.

And that’s a good reason to have a blog, by the way…

“In my mind, I am an Ironman”… - me

I received some good news last night on my ride. We started out at the Burnaby Velodrome and rode intervals to Port Moody. The biggest breakthrough was my ability to maintain a “threshold” pace for 2 intervals of 22 minutes and 33 minutes. This doesn’t sound like much, but I have had that limiter (referring to something that held me back) for a while, and being able to really hold a heart rate for a long period. This felt good. I felt I could push and hold the pace for a longer period of time. As in running, the feeling of being able to push a little harder is so important, as it allows you to run your “endurance pace” knowing that you are holding back enough to get through the distance. In a ride of 180km (or a run of 42.2) if you feel you’re on the edge the whole time well, you’ll be toast.

Tonight is a swim… It’s pouring rain outside now so this will not be a fun day outdoors, but we have the swim at 2^nd beach and then speedwork after that. And tomorrow, I have my first Sasamat Lake swim with the North Shore Triathlon Club… There is supposed to be a barbecue after but we’ll see how the weather goes.

“In my mind, I am an Ironman…”

The Oliver Half Ironman

I finally got that opportunity to ride the main section of the Ironman course this weekend. I figured it was about a 125km route from Oliver to the top of Yellow Lake, and across on Twin Lakes Road to Okanagan Falls, and back to Oliver. I felt fairly strong heading up Richter’s Pass, the infamous 11km climb after Osoyoos that pretty much defines Ironman Canada. With all it’s hype, Richer’s Pass is really not THAT difficult, but I think that is more because it comes early in the race (after the 60km mark) and is a fairly steady climb. You can pretty much stay seated the whole way up, and I’ve even seen people ride in their aerobars. Personally, I’d prefer to stay comfortable going up that climb, and save as much of my back as I can. No sense in creating unnecessary back strain to gain a couple of minutes on that climb.

The next section were the rollers into Keremeos. I counted seven but I could be mistaken. I made a decision to climb the rollers out of my seat, just to see if that helped. I have to say, it felt like the right thing to do. Keeping my momentum up through that section helped just to make me feel stronger and more like I was making some progress. I wasn’t pushing hard, but just steady and strong. I practiced a LOT of mental phrases and words to myself to keep up the power. Here were some of the ones I remember:

“Strong legs, relaxed body… Strong legs, relaxed body”

“Every hill makes you tougher”

“You were made for this”

“Go, go, go…” – as I approached the crest.

I’m learning to keep the language simple and easy, and just repeat it over and over again. This is extremely helpful, by the way. If you allow yourself to just drift with the ride, you begin to lose it mentally when you get fatigued. It’s never a question of “if I get fatigued” at Ironman… It’s WHEN… So, you have to control the words and phrases you say to yourself. Any “I can’t do this” statements only become self-fulfilling prophecies. I learned in running to try to focus on hitting each mile marker strong, and in cycling you really do need to make your own language.

This came in especially useful as I approached the climb to Yellow Lake. From Olalla (just outside of Keremeos) the climb is about 4-5 km to the top, but it comes at a later portion of the race. Your bike starts to feel about 10 pounds heavier, and it’s extremely important to keep your momentum up through this stretch. As an example, I caught myself about 1km in drifting off in my concentration, and when I snapped out of it, my heart rate was at 130, which is well below the 145 bpm I was hoping to maintain as an average. I was, essentially, “dogging it”. I don’t believe in getting the heart rate high in the air during a long ride, but my base level training heart rate for biking is tested at between 145 and 162. And that’s where I should be aiming for. Being on the low end of that isn’t bad at all, but being in 130 means I’m just coasting. You gotta give a LITTLE effort.

I made it up the road to Yellow Lake, with tired legs for sure. I was so elated when I hit the top, believing the worst of the hills to be over. I turned right onto Twin Lakes Rd, which cuts away from Penticton, and all of a sudden… HILL… Not just a hill, but a fairly steep grade for about 400 meters. I don’t remember this… Okay, I figured, after this it’s a fairly good downhill. WRONG. Another set of rolling hills…. At this stage of the game, I’m wasted. My legs are tired, I’m running low on energy, and I just want it all to be over.

But, I sucked it up. I figured this stretch makes this ride harder than the Ironman course in terms of climbing, and these extra add-ons were only going to make me stronger. So, out of the saddle, I climbed the next roller. I started to feel better, and settled in to prepare for the next hour. Dropping into OK falls, I had 22km back to Oliver, and I got into the aerobars for the most part all the way into town. I passed quite a few riders who were out testing out their bikes for the race the next day.

The race on Sunday started off a little precociously, with a rainfall in the morning that threatened to make the 90km ride a little tougher. I was set to volunteer at the bike aid station at the 38km and 78km (it’s a two loop course) mark. When I got out to the aid station, I had a full on parka and rain pants. Within minutes, the rain stopped, and it started to warm up quite a bit. The road was dry within 30 minutes. Amazing! And perfect for the racers. Over the course of the day, I managed to improve at the art of handing off water to riders as they sped past me. The trick is in how you hold the water bottle. You have to turn your right hand so that your thumb and index finger are down, and hold the bottle in between them from the top. That allows the riders to grab the bottle out of your hands with ease. The next trick is to get some momentum and run “backwards” as they come by. As I mentioned on another website, if you don’t do that then a rider coming in at 20km/hr is grabbing a stationary object. That’s tough to do unless you are Tarzan…. And it can also be dangerous… So, you run a little with them so that it is easier for them to grab.

I have to say, I feel very adept at this now!

I met a lot of great people this weekend. Lori Bowden was there (top Ironman athlete in Canada), as well as a lot of folks from the Ironcops team. It was great to meet some new Ironcops teammates from around Canada. That will make the Penticton weekend more special already! Also, our B&B was amazing. It is called “Above the Orchard” and it is great. Especially for athletes.

Watching the race got me excited for the next one, in two weeks. Actually, less than two weeks! It has all started…….

First trip to the OK...

I have this semi-excited feeling right now as I am about to make the first trip to the Okanagan for training this year... I'm heading to Oliver tonight to volunteer at the race. Of course, I do plan to get a nice long ride in on "the course" as we Westcoast Canadian Ironfolk call it ("the course", referring to the Ironman bike course).

This is also my first chance to really try out my "system" for races. I recall last year I bought a front water bottle (to fit in my tri-bars) and I cut the straw too short. Of course, I never realized this UNTIL the race itself, when I struggled to reach over enough to drink. That is not a good thing... Lesson learned! Of course, I know the rule of "never do something in a race you haven't done in training", but sometimes you need a not-so-subtle reminder!

Biking the course will also bring back some of the familiarity. It is always advisable to simulate the race as much as you can in training, so that you know how to approach each and every section of the race. We are so lucky to live close enough to practice this regularily. I've biked the course once aside from the Ironman in 2002, and that was about a month and a half before. Even that one time was helpful, as it allayed my fears about the course. Now, I'm going to be biking it for tactical purposes. I am going to figure out which approach to take at each section, based on my energy reserves. My goal is to stay in a base mode as much as possible, attack the rollers between Richter's Pass and Keremeos, and have something left to spin up the hill to Yellow Lake.

I'm going to go with 3 power bars and 5 clif shots, with three water bottles, one with e-load, and the other two with water. Part of training is also training yourself to eat on the bike. This will work out to a 120km ride (Oliver to Osoyoos to Keremeos and back to Oliver). I'm also going to grab some "Sharkies" (healthier gummy bears) as snacks to have in my mouth when it's dry.

In order to get the ride in before I need to be at package pickup, I'm going to get started around 6am. Since I need to be at package pickup before noon, I am trying to give myself a bit of a cushion to work within.

Should be fun. Last time I practiced on this course, I drove up to Penticton the night before, slept in my car, woke up in the morning, drove to Tim Hortons, ate 2 donuts and drank a cup of coffee, set up my bike, and then started riding, with a set of directions in my pocket and a prayer....

This time I at least have a bed to sleep in... Seems a little TOO convenient for me. Maybe I'll just have one donut this time for old times sake.

Exploring the world...

Yeah, I'll admit that my next few thoughts are jumping ahead of the game a little. After all, it's more important to focus on the time at hand. I have 3 months (actually, less) until the Ironman Canada. These are going to mean long training days and lots of dedication, and also some discipline in my mental training to keep focused and forward...

But, you gotta admit, going around the world, racing Ironmans in different countries, is a cool thing to try. I'm not going to pledge "every Ironman in the world I shall race", but I certainly wouldn't mind trying a few.

I've had my eye on Ironman Austria and Australia for quite some time. I don't know why, but those two hold the greatest pull for me. Australia is raced in late March, and Austria is in July.

I love the atmosphere surrounding Ironman Canada, and the friendships, community and enjoyment surrounding this event. I wouldn't trade that experience in for the hope that another race might be better, but I think the lure of adventure definitely guides most of my decisions. It would certainly be fun to try.

I do realize there are some obstacles, financial and career-wise, that need to be considered in thinking about these kind of things, but just putting the idea down on paper, I have a feeling that somehow I am going to find a way to seek out all that this sport has to offer, and continue my adventures somehow. Just putting it down on paper... Just a thought.

Back to reality:
I am finding that I am becoming a stronger and stronger cyclist, especially on hills. I have broken through that "pain barrier" of giving a last ditch effort at the crest of some high grade climbs, which was something that hadn't happened. It's definitely giving me some confidence on the bike... Again, it's all about making sure your bike at Ironman has as little effect on your run as possible, so I'm shooting for efficiency. This weekend I'll be in Oliver, BC, to volunteer for the Half Ironman. I'll have an opportunity to hit the 11km climb of Richter's Pass for the first time this year, and I'm eager to get to it. While Richter's pass is not THE killer part of the course, it is one of the defining parts. 11km of straight climbing at around the 60km mark of the race. It has the power to tire out the legs, making the rollers towards Keremeos, and the final climb to Yellow Lake, a struggle in survival.
I need to get in about 130km or so, and so this climb with be great in the middle of this ride. Rather than fear it as I once did, I'm excited and enthusiastic.

It's a far cry from where I used to be...

As for tonight, I have speedwork and a long swim in the outdoor pool. It's quite muggy out today, but it's warm and the signs of summer are making their presence known.