And then it was about the bike...

I will preface this by saying that I don't believe that there would be a race, that I was doing, where I didn't have something odd to report from my bike... This is not an admission that I am a victim of fate, but I think that the story of my racing this year has been formed from the bike ride, and often due to something adverse.

In truth, I rather relish that, as I believe now that every previous event this year led to my ability to work through the issues that occurred on this ride...

I started out with a good pace, following my pre-determined plan to stay low in my heart rate until I hit McLean Creek Road (about 9 miles in) and just spin into form for the race. I was riding, admittedly, in a pack up Main Street towards Skaha Lake. Exiting the water in the middle of the race pack made this unavoidable. The race officials came up past us all a few times along the Skaha Lake road and, really, I think they just tried to get us all to back away from each other. To my credit, I kept the required draft legal distance from the bike in front of me, but I couldn't speak for the folks behind me or, in fact, whether the person in front of me was drafting. No matter, I felt this was just unavoidable, and I wasn't going to let it affect my race at all. I figured I would stay as legal as I possibly could, and ride safe and within myself.

I approached McLean Creek Road at about 35km/hr, and that was my pace during this early section. McLean Creek Road, though, is the first real hill of the bike course, and it is a little bit disheartening, because your legs are not quite warmed up so you feel a lot more tired than you really are.

And that's how I felt going up. I wasn't going any slower than anybody else, but the legs were a little green. Riding up, though, I was just so happy to be riding out of my aero position, and actually be able to stand out of the seat in the tougher sections. Six weeks and I felt like I was in a little withdrawal!

As I hit the top of the hill, the road started to level out, and I dropped into my aerobars for a little spin. Then... pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss......

My rear tire went flat.

This was an all-to-familiar sound, and I immediately put my hand back to signal that I was pulling over to the side of the road. Okay, flat tire. Simple problem to fix. I pulled off the rear tire, examined the tire for any holes or glass or anything that might have caused the flat. Seeing nothing, I pulled my tire levers out of my Bento box and started taking off the tire. As soon as it was off, I pulled off the tube. I couldn't find any holes as I looked around, so I couldn't figure out where the pop had come from. But I wasn't going to spend a lot of time trying to find out, so I took one of my three spares out and unwrapped it to start fresh. I set myself up early by having one tube and CO2 cartridge in my tri-top back pocket and two tubes and CO2 cartridges taped to my seat tube. In this case, I was going to use the one in my tri-top. It was a good advantage because I didn't have to spend time tearing off the tape on the seat post, and I could drop a little weight off my tri top (I figure now is the time to think positively!).

I put the tube in and made sure that I didn't have it pinched in between the tire. I'd made that mistake before. I put the valve through the rim and then went to the CO2 cartridge. I'm still a little nervous about my proficiency in using these, so I was extra careful. I made sure I got the valve connected properly before I twisted open the cartridge, for fear of blowing it out before I even had a chance to fill it up.

Fortunately, I did it right, and the CO2 immediately filled up the tired. I figure it was up to about 80-90 PSI. That was fine for now. I pulled the cartridge off and secured the valve. I took the tube and folded it up in my back pocket. I didn't want to leave a tube on the side of the road as litter, and instead wanted to drop the empty CO2 and the tube off at the next water station.

As I pulled into the road, I looked back to see if anybody was coming who was close to the shoulder. Since the shoulder of the road was gravel and rough, I figured most riders would be out near the middle of the road and that was, indeed, the case. I proceeded to turn up the road and mount my bike. Then CRASH>>>>>>

I was knocked forward, and realized that another cyclist had smashed right into my bike. And, to top it off, it was a member of the Cops for Cancer team. I didn't know the guy as I hadn't met him before (at least I couldn't recall), but he was wearing the same uniform. He toppled over and skinned his legs on the ground. I was fine. I got away from the accident without falling or anything, and felt quite fortunate. The guy then got about and was cursing. Not me... But himself. He said "I just wasn't looking..." I looked at his bike and the tires were okay, and the bike looked fine. He picked it up and dropped it on the side of the road and walked around a bit. I kept asking "are you okay?" and he kind of grudgingly responded. But I couldn't get a straight answer, although he was walking and just catching his breathe. Again I looked at his bike, to make sure it was okay. It looked okay. I told him to look and see, and he said he thought something was wrong with his derailer. But he hadn't really tested it though. I kept asking if he was okay and told him his bike looked okay, but he just wouldn't answer. Now I was getting a little impatient, as I just wanted to get going, but I didn't want to leave a guy on the side of the road if he was in need of some attention.

But he wasn't saying either way, and so I finally just said, "okay, I'm going". I left him behind. I felt bad, but I really couldn't get a good enough read on how he was. I just think he was really pissed off and didn't want to say anything. Well, that's fine, but I gotta run. I started riding, and about 400-500 meters later, psssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss....

Again! And the rear tire! AGAIN!!!!!!

I signalled I was going to the side of the road again. This time, I went and looked at the tire and saw nothing. I was frustrated. I pulled out the tube and put the next one on. Same routine. Arletta, from the Cops for Cancer team, rode by and stopped. I didn't want her to have to, but I was kind of happy she had. I used the CO2 and this time it filled up, but then it went soft again. So I borrowed her pump and tried to pump it up manually. No, I didn't bring a pump this time! I know, I know, I made that error in Victoria. But this time I knew there would be support and I felt I had taken enough CO2 to get me through the rest of the race... Someday I will learn...

The tire just wouldn't inflate, without then deflating. I got it to a point that seemed to be working, and sent Arletta on her way. Thanks to her, because it was so nice of her to stop. I started riding again, and 100 feet away it just deflated... No pop, it just slowly lost all its pressure.

Alright... 1 unused tube left and 1 CO2 cartridge... I pulled over to the side, and then, when the road was clear, I moved over to the far side of the road, so that nobody would hit me at all.
This time another Cops for Cancer guy stopped, and offered to hold my bike while I changed the tire for the third time... I put the new tube in, looked at the tire for damage, and used my last CO2 cartridge. It inflated, and then within seconds it was deflated...

I'm outta CO2, and this C4C team member didn't have a pump either. But I didn't think it would make a difference at this time since every tube was going flat...

I sent the C4C guy on his way, and figured I would wait for the Bike Barn tech vehicle, which I knew couldn't be far behind, since I was only really at the start of the race. I was 10 miles in at this moment of a 112 mile race.

About 15 minutes later, the Bike Barn van pulled up, and four folks got out like the pit crew at Nascar. I explained that I couldn't figure it out, but I had no way of keeping air in the tire. One of the bike crew took my bike and took off the tire on my back wheel. She did it with no levers... THAT'S talent!

After scanning the wheel, she explained to me that the rim tape was coming off, and that the valve hole, where the tube valve goes, was exposed and sharp.... This was probably the cause of the flats...

She retaped the rim and gave me a little stern "you needed to check this out before" speech. She also covered up the hole with tape and filed it down. I appreciated the speech. To be honest I had never thought of looking at my wheel, and I got a bit of a phantom flat a few weeks ago that I hadn't really considered. So, you learn something new! Wish I could have found out this information, say, on SATURDAY!!! But, still, a little "take-home" moment.

She put the wheel back with a new tube and they pumped up the tire. It was inflating the whole way now and no leaks. Unfortunately though, they couldn't give me any new tubes and had no CO2 cartridges...So, I was stuck with my old tubes, which had holes in them, and no way of blowing them up. They offered to take the tubes, as they were useless without any ability to inflate them. They said, though, that they'd be out on the course all day. Comforting! I just had to get another 70 miles to my special needs bag to grab my two spare tubes and CO2 cartridges without another flat, in order to be self-sufficient. Otherwise, I'd be waiting for them again somewhere!

"Hey, you won't get any more flats. You've had yours for the day" said one of the bike crew. Strangely enough, I believed that. There is no basis for why I'd be lucky enough to get another 70 miles incident free, but that was still a comfort, almost like a big leap of faith. Just have faith there will be no more flats... Lisa Bentley would be pleased and dismayed... pleased because of thinking positively, but dismayed at not being prepared...

I started off again... Everybody had passed by, for the most part. And by everybody, I mean EVERYBODY. I was 10 miles into the ride, and my clock read 1:35 on the bike. 1:35 for 10 miles is average if you're RUNNING it.

One thing I would realize later, but didn't at this moment, was that during this entire hour of bike tire fixing, I had not sipped any water, nor taken any gels or nutrition in. I was so focused on the flats I hadn't even thought of that. In future, I will make sure that, the first time I flat (IF I flat), I drink at least a half a water bottle of water and/or sports drink, and take at least a gel or a Clif Bar, before I go any further. It takes 2-3 minutes to do but had I done that I would have been within my plan, instead of being in a deficit.

I set out on the road, and figured I could lean on the pace a little. I kept within myself, though, and stayed at 140-145 on my heart rate, which is where I had planned to be. I was definitely focused, though.

The best thing about starting in the back of the pack is that you get to catch people. And I did. I think my favourite line, over the whole day, was "on your left". I passed people for the entire ride to Richter's Pass, even having the privilege of passing Sister Madonna Buder, the famous Iron "nun". I passed Karen Frank, our BC Team Leader for Ironcops. I kept a good 23-25 mph pace all the way to Richters. But my heart rate was not going up...

As per the race plan, I emptied a bottle of water before each aid station. I wanted to make sure I started fresh and drank at least 2/3 to 3/4 of the bottle at each aid station. As I approached Richter's, the plan was to dump all water bottles but one to lighten up for the climb. I did, and climbed with one water bottle.

I was, indeed, hopping. I had a fire going that felt good. I got into my climbing position, the first time up Richter's without a cast in 2 months almost, and spun the wheels up the hill. I was never passed, and I just kept passing others. I had great cadence and just felt strong. Almost like there was no hill. I have to say, my bike training this year helped out HUGE. I have never felt so strong.

I hit the top of Richter's and dumped the rest of the water on my head to cool down. I saw Dean Stanton, my coach, taking pictures. He saw me and I think he had a little relief! He knew there must have been some problems. He just yelled out "go", although I think he wanted to make a joke and say "get your ass moving...." I'd have appreciated the joke.

Then I grabbed a new water bottle and a Gatorade, and proceeded to the decent. Here I recovered, letting my momentum and the speed of the bike carry me down. I was hitting 40-45 mph all the way down. FAST. I loved it. I was flying and I had lost that tentative feeling I had throughout the last month. I was in aero and loving it. There was little wind coming off Richter's Pass, so the ride was so smooth.

Then we hit the rollers. I had done these in Osoyoos for the 1/2 Ironman, and also in training, so I knew what to expect. The first roller would be tough, but the next few were just about carrying momentum. I ate a clif bar (my second of the day) and planned to eat as I hit the easier sections of the rollers. I hit the half-way mark (90km) at around 3 hours and 40 minutes. I had done 74km in about 2 hours 5 minutes. Not bad with Richters. I got to the second downhill, and then my bike computer started registering "0's" on the speed... The sensor had stopped working. Now I was riding with no idea of my speed...

No matter... My heart rate monitor was still working. I made the decision to keep my heart rate under 150 as much as possible, rising only to climb a hill, but never raising it about 170.

Then we got onto the flats towards the out-and-back. I was still passing by people and I was riding in my target zones, so I felt I could continue. I stuck to my plan of finishing a water bottle by every aid station, and had my third Clif bar. I had gotten a little lax on my salt pills, so I started doubling up, as I could feel the heat a little more.

I hit the out-and-back, quite a demoralizer for most. But I was having the ride of my life, literally. I saw Dominique, Steve, Murray, and a bunch of others on their way back from the out and back, and just kept going along. I knew I needed to stop at the 130km mark, which is where the Special Needs bags were, in order to pick up my spare tubes. I stopped, and realized this was a good time to hit the porta-potties. I handed my bike to one of the volunteers, a cute little 6 or 7 year old girl, and went to the bathroom. The rule of thumb is that if you haven't pee'd by now, you're not drinking enough. Well, I hadn't pee'd because I was too focused to think about it, and stopping at the Special Needs area gave me a chance to think... And I definitely had to go. Good sign!!!

I got out of the porta-potty, and went to grab my bike. I looked at the little girl, and realized that she had a cast on her left hand... It was positioned exactly as mine had been. Exactly.... Although hers was a baby blue, probably because she's a girl and would have asked for something that was coloured properly...

I asked her, "what did you do to your arm?"

She replied, "I broke my thumb."



My jaw just dropped. I couldn't believe what I was experiencing. I continued my questions (of course, I was completely oblivious to the fact that I still had another 50km to ride or so):
"SO did I!!! How did you break it?"

She replied "I fell off a swing."

"Well, I fell off my bike! I just got my cast off, though, and look, I'm out here riding again."

She kind of gave me a weird look like I was out to lunch. Or she was just shy.

"You're going to be fine, " I said, "thanks for being out here today."

"You're welcome, " she replied.

"We're both going to be okay, okay?" I said, as I got on my bike and started to ride away...


I cannot explain that moment. I still can't give the feeling or sensation I had at that moment the justice it deserves. Call that serendipity, call that fate, call that whatever you will. I call that a sign...

Had I not had 3 flats I would not have needed to stop for my tubes.
Had I not had 3 flats I would have stopped sooner for a bathroom break instead of at this particular point.
Had I not broken my thumb, that would not have been something I would have noticed.
Had I not broken my thumb, I would not have learned to focus enough to focus so that I didn't feel the need to pee until that point.
Had I not had bike issues before and learned to deal with them, I might not have been so calm and ready to continue.
Had I not stopped at this bathroom at this time and with these circumstances, she would not have been there.

Some of this is coincidence, I will concede. But there are just too many variables in play, and I can't deny that I was involved in a moment where intention and inspiration came together to show me something. I was awake to this moment.

I think I believe in something...

I started to cry, while riding... Yes, I did. I haven't said that yet. It didn't last for too long, but I had it. I feel like a big weight was lifted off my life. That there was purpose to everything, that all things are unfolding as they should. That I am a significant enough piece of all of this for someone to send to me a little girl to show me her broken thumb.

Yes, before I hypothetically believed in something... Now I firmly believe in all of our connection to the universe around us.

Too many things leading to that one moment to ignore all of them and blow it off to pure randomness.

Anyway, back to the bike ride! I still had 50km to go. I set a small goal to make sure I broke 6:45, which would mean I had done a 5:35 bike ride, all told, if I didn't get the flats.

I had new vitality and life after the pee-break-life-affirming-serendipitious-moment. I sped through to Keremeos and started looking for friends at the Bear Fruit stand. On the left I saw a very hot girl in a black bikini top, with medium length dark hair. Then she spoke and said "Go Tony, you're the Star!"

It was Lenka...

Better speed through that one. Gotta look like I am going strong!

I sped up and found Murray Frank, from Ironcops, and smiled and asked how things were going. We both were grinning. I like Murray's playful attitude towards Ironman. It's a lifestyle for him but it is also something he has a great sense of humour about and a really laid back attitude. I've learned a lot about Ironman from how Murray and Karen (his wife) have built their Ironman success. Both are huge inspirations for me.

I rode past Murray, feeling good, and hit the road to Yellow Lake. I should say the HILL... The dreaded final climb. I focused in... "Okay, Anthony, one climb, make it strong." I spun up, and never let my cadence falter. Even when I was tired. The crowds were HUGE. It was like the Tour de France in that you had to battle through people just to keep moving. I made a solemn promise not to slow my cadence down at all. I would be strong all the way. I would prove myself on this hill.

And boy I conquered that hill. I won't deny how great I felt at the top. So good I almost forgot to grab more water and Gatorade at the aid station, as I had dumped all my bottles to climb the hill.

Grabbing my hydration, I emptied half of the water bottle over my head to cool off. Then I settled back into the aerobars and sped off. No speedometer meant I was riding on feel for the rest of the race, and I just got the cadence going and let my heart rate dictate my pace. All was fine. I was having the ride of my life. I hit the 160 km marker.. 20 kilometres to go and sitting at 6 hours. 20 k in 45 minutes. I was well ahead of the pace.

At this point in the race, 4 years ago, I was completely wasted. I was so looking forward to the downhill that I couldn't pedal. And my back was stiff. Not this year. No stiff back and little leg fatigue.

I sped into the final small climb and got out of the seat. I was going to power this final small climb, turn around, and look down on the hill with a little "GOTCHA!"

The bike had not gotten me down. In fact, I had the ride of my life. Aside from the flat tires, I had gone 90 miles in about 4 1/2 hours. Blistering by my standards.

I took the downhill like a victory ride... Just letting the bike go as fast as it would... No speedometer meant no idea of my speed, but I was still passing people. I hit the final left turn towards town and a slight uphill, and just spun my way up to the final descent.

Then I was back in Penticton, speeding along Main Street towards the transition area. My right 2nd toe was hurting, and I couldn't tell if it was asleep or if it had a blister. No matter. I'd figure that out when I got into transition, because now I knew I WOULD make it to transition. No thumb issues, no arm issues...

I hit the end of the bike. Official time: 6:34:25... The 1558th fastest ride on the day. Average speed, 17 mph.

But I know what that ride was really about, and I was 10 minutes faster than I had set my goal at after my flats. And I don't think I would trade that time in if it meant losing out on the ride that I had and the moments I experienced...

But what had I left for the run?

(tomorrow, the run)

The swim in pictures...

Wanna see pyranahs in the water?

And I emerge from the water!


And the salute (thanks to Rachel and Michael for the pics)

The Swim

If anybody has ever had the opportunity to see an Ironman race up close, the swim start is one of the most impressive sites you'll ever witness.

Ironman Canada is even better, considering it has the largest mass swim start in the world.

Imagine 2500 animals jumping into the water at precisely the same moment and thrashing about as they appear to try to escape something... Maybe you've seen antelope do that in Africa while running away from a lion, but never a human herd...

That is precisely what it looks like. I've watched it before and it's amazing. But if you want truly amazing, get right into that pack and try it yourself. You don't know organized chaos until you are in the middle of it.

As I said in my last post, at 6:59 we're all the same... Well, as the cannon went off, we were all different. People walked, dived, continued to chat with friends and family (taking there time), etc. as the gun went off. It's like an old Monty Python comic sketch where the starters pistol goes and everybody heads out in opposite directions. Each with our own plan for getting through this bubbling cauldron that had formed from all the arms and bodies flailing away.

I knew my approach... Stick to the outside and work your way in as you approach the first turn. It's a triangular swim and I knew how the start would look. I also knew that I had to protect my left arm as much as possible heading out, as an errant body smashing into my thumb would hurt incredibly. If you line up on the left-most part of the swim start and head out in a direct line towards the first turn, some 1600 meters out there. If you do it properly, the cost of staying on the outside is about 50 meters. Then again, that depends on staying in a straight line.

I headed out. Steve C. and I had started together but he was a much faster swimmer, so I knew he'd take off. But we wished each other good luck and went our separate ways. I knew this was not a social call anyway. I began my swim fairly conservatively, just trying to keep pace with whomever was around but also not getting my excitement level up too much. I managed to stay on the outside, which probably cost me a little because I wasn't able to catch a draft off of the 1000 odd bodies in front of me. No matter, I needed to be safe for now.

My arms felt good and loose, and my left forearm, especially, seemed to be fluid and be getting stronger and stronger. I had been swimming 6 days of the 7 prior to the race, which did not in any way make up for the 42 days off I had had, but was enough to give me confidence on the swim. As in Osoyoos, I decided not to take a watch. I didn't want to be tempted to look, or try to catch my split at the turns. I wanted to let how I felt dictate my swim, and let the time work itself out.

I approached the first turn and felt my first bang of bodies as I tried to close the lane between the outside and the massive boat that signalled the first right turn. As the swimmers turned, some reacted slower than others, so occasionally I had someone torpedo me from the side while not realizing it was time to turn. No matter. Stay calm, focused, and keep the arms and legs moving.

My goggles had fogged up again around this turn, so I took a moment to tread water, pull them off my eyes, and wash them out with water. As we made the right turn I was staring almost directly into the morning sunrise, and having fogged up goggles would have made the next section more difficult than I already needed.

The next section was about 450 meters to the next turn, and continued outward away from shore. I had a good rhythm going and felt good about stretching out, rolling, and reaching out for each stroke, as I had practiced all year. With 6 weeks off, nothing felt natural, but I knew what felt good, and swimming with some technique felt good. I made my goal to swim as perfectly as I could imagine. I don't know if I was or not, but I was making every stroke an effort in perfection.

We approached the last turn, heading into the final 1800 meters. By now I was right in the middle of the pack, and could see bodies on the left and right as close as 1 foot away and seemingly endlessly deep. A few times I was even sandwiched, having two bodies crash into me from either side at the same time. I can't imagine swimming as a contact sport, but I know from triathlons that it is nothing short of one, and the funny thing is that I bet those two bodies who collided with me at the same time were thinking the same thing - "man, I just got sandwiched" - because on either side of them there was always someone moving into their swim zone. A couple of times, the person on my left (always a different person it seemed) banged my arm, and on two or three occasions - in retrospect I can't recall - I did get bumped in the thumb. It hurt, but not enough to put me off the stroke and rhythm.

1800 meters, however, seemed to take an awfully long time. I just kept passing buoy after buoy, thinking that the next one might be the last, only to be disappointed when I saw another, and another, in front. Those orange buoys are great signals, but sometimes they let you catch a glimpse of just how far you still have to go.

I made a decision to enjoy this as much as possible. I had everything going for me to be able to swim this course. I thought I would try and swim even more effectively, even stronger, and even faster, as I approached the finish of this leg of the journey. I wanted to know I had given it a good go.

I could hear the crowd in the distance, and the race announcer's voice getting louder and louder as I approached. He was shouting out names of competitors exiting the water. I didn't hear the names, but I knew I would soon be one of them. I got closer and saw that some of the swimmers in front of me were standing upright. That meant they were about to exit the water. I swam another 10 meters or so, and stood up myself. I was finished the swim. I pulled down my wetsuit to allow myself to start running a little more freely. I looked to my right and saw Rachel and Michael taking pictures.

I ran up the matt over the chip timer and looked at the clock.....

1:14:21... Later I would find that put me as the 1095 fastest swimmer... Which was in the top half! My predicted time was 1:20-1:35 given no swimming, and my time 4 years ago was 1:13... I was so happy. I thought I would be around 1:30 given I felt I wasn't swimming that fast. Go figure!

I ran up to the "wetsuit strippers" and lay down on the grass as is customary. They whipped off the suit and handed it to me.

I ran through and grabbed my swim-bike bag, which had my helmet and cycling equipment. I went into the transition tent and took off my swim suit, and put on my bike shorts. As I left I ran by the Kinesys volunteers, who sprayed me with more suntan lotion. Then, I went into the bathroom for my first bathroom stop of the day.

I ran down the concrete road to my bike, at Row 11, and put my cycling shoes on. I looked and noticed about half the bikes were still on the rack. So I wasn't in last!

I rolled my bike up to the mount line, and saw my time. 1:24. I had about a 9-10 minute transition which was just fine. I wasn't worried considering I still expected to be swimming at this time...

Now off to the bike. 112 miles on a seat! (bike story next...)

Ironman 2006… The Race Story…

Part 1, before the race….

I have to say, this day was, by and far, better than I could have anticipated. I found I was incredibly calm and controlled throughout the week, leading me to either feel like I wasn’t excited enough, or I was so in control of my nerves that I was just right for a great day.
In the morning Pascal, Dominique and I rose at 3:45am to start getting prepared for the day. My goal was to have breakfast as soon as possible and allow my body to absorb the calories, and then gently get ready. I had packed everything the night before, so very little thought needed to be put into my preparations. Pascal went off to Denny’s for his grand slam breakfast…. Something I think I won’t ever do before a race.

I ate a bagel with peanut butter, a bowl of oatmeal, and a banana. I had eaten pretty steadily throughout the week leading up so I didn’t see much need to over-indulge. I was going to be eating plenty during the day, according to my plan.
We left the room and were offered a ride to the start by someone from the Tri Club. As we were driving away, I realized I had left my prefilled water bottles in the room… Ooops. We had to go back. Dominique realized this as well, so I wasn’t alone.

We got to the transition area, and speedily passed through the body marking and check in areas. I was still pretty relaxed. I went to my bike to pump up the tires to 105 psi. That’s usually my standard. Others go to 120 but I figured that would be good enough and I would be okay, as the day looked to be a warm one, and I wanted to make sure my tires didn’t expand due to the heat.
I lent my pump out to some other racers. In situations like these, it’s best to get as much good karma as you can.

We regrouped and met back at the Peach at 6:20am, to find our coach and get some last words in, and meet up with other people. Many of the folks I thought would meet us there were nowhere to be found, so that was somewhat disappointing, but I put it in the back of my mind and just focused on the race itself.

Dean gave us a little pep talk, and threw in some gems for the race like remembering to thank people along the way, and to enjoy each moment. I’ll take those with me for this race, for sure.
We got into our wetsuits, and headed down to the water. 2500 people going in at the same time is a little nerve-rattling, so I decided to get a quick warmup in before. Good to get the heart rate going and calm down, getting a feel for the water as well. Also, I did this same routine in Osoyoos and, given my time there, I wasn’t going to mess with success.

I thought about the swim, about the day, and about what I wanted to get out of this. Mostly, I was just happy to be here. There had been a lot of reasons to quit along the way, and I had not allowed them to permeate into my life. I had fought through the cast and, while not at 100%, I was good enough to start. My practice swim on Thursday had affirmed that, as well as my swim the day before. I could not be more ready for this. I stared out to the first turn… Man, that’s a long ways away.

Then the nerves hit…

I calmed down, realized my goggles were all fogging up, and cleaned them out. It was a beautiful, clear day, and this was going to be a wonderful swim start. No wind, a beautiful sunrise, and no complaints.

6:59am… We’re one minute away from the start. You can feel the anticipation mounting. I tried to crack a joke, “how far do we have to swim again?”… Corny I know…

At 6:59, you can’t do anything more other than start. That’s it, the clock gets going, and your time doesn’t stop until you cross the line. So, anything along the way is either making you quicker or slowing you down….

We’re all the same at 6:59. Nobody has beat us out of the starting gate, nobody has had a better swim, bike, or run. We’re all equal. We all have a story that will be individual, unique, and special. We all are Ironman athletes. Getting to start this race is a unique and special moment, and something we should all be grateful for the opportunity to do. There is so much in the world that is terrible and destructive, and we have the luxury of doing something positive, spending our energy on something so self-fulfilling. Maybe, just maybe, the positive energy and vibes from such an event can spread through the spectators, the volunteers, and the athletes to the world outside, and we can make the world better by becoming better…

7am… The Canon goes BOOOM….
(tomorrow the swim).

Sunday is just a day away...

This morning I jumped out for a 15 minute swim and a 30 minute bike. I had an optional run scheduled but decided against it...

I had to put on a new tire on my back wheel, as I noticed last night that I had a piece of glass sticking out of my tire... Never a good sign.

As for the rest of the day, I headed over to check in my bike, walked in the parade, had dinner with family and friends, and am now ready to go to bed. I put together my food for tomorrow, and I feel remarkably calm.

I'll be getting up around 4am to eat breakfast, and then get my stuff ready to walk over to the transition site. I am meeting the other guys on the Tri One team at the Peach at 6:20am, so I'll have to have everything ready before that in the transition area.

Otherwise, it's off to bed...

Race story will come Monday!

Some photos from the Ironcops meeting

Ironcops attempting to form the famous I-dot!
Total amount raised.... $1.3 million dollars

Friday night in Penticton

I opted out of the pasta dinner tonight, as I had planned, and went and grabbed dinner with my mom at the Ramada. It was a whole lot nicer to spend some relaxed time with her. I am excited about seeing everybody, but I think that the time to catch up will be after the race is over, not now. It's just too hyped up right now around town.

So, I have retreated back to the motel room to rest and relax, work on my bike, and then start a ritual that I'll explain in a moment.

First, though, I went and dropped $70 on inner tubes, CO2 cartridges, new cleats for my bike shoes, and some sunscreen today at the expo. I am getting my bike comlpetely race ready tonight so that I don't have to mess with it tomorrow, and I needed a couple of extra supplies. I didn't anticipate spending $70 on anything, but when I saw the cleats, I realized how old mine were. Mind as well get new ones! When I saw the sunscreen, I was marvelled at it's "only alcohol-free spray on"-ness (it's from Kinesys) and "made in Canada-ness"... Dropped $40 on those two items alone.

See, THAT'S why we stay away from the expo!

After the bike cleanse, I shall start officially diving into my metrosexual "manscaping" routine.... That's right, shaving the legs... The one iconic activity that defines the male triathlete.

There are a lot of arguments for the whys of shaving legs. There's the obvious ones like it's easier to scrape off the road rash, it's better for massages, it's more aerodynamic, etc. But I don't know if the advantages are really quantifiable when you're at my athletic level. Really... I'll give you the road rash one, though, from experience, as during my crash in Osoyoos having no hair on the legs made it much easier to clean up after.

But, when it comes down to it, there are two reasons: 1) It puts one in the fraternity of triathletes, because you never truly fit in until you do this silly spectacle, and 2) it feels like a pre-competition ritual that makes me "feel" like an athlete. And, if for no other reason, #2 makes sense, then I'm all for it.

And so, razor in one hand and shaving cream in the other, I shall head to the shower for the pre-race paving...

Finally, this evening, another round in the hot tub!

Day two in Penticton. Friday morning...

Today is a scheduled day off of workouts... We're trying to make sure we stay as inactive as possible, moving only when necessary :). I've already gone for a short walk to Tim Hortons for a morning coffee... I don't know if I need any coffee, really, but there is something remarkably comforting about a morning coffee walk.

Strangely enough, I feel calm. I don't know if it is the feeling like I have been here before, or if I just have a different attitude now. But I am not feeling any pressure or nervousness, just a quiet calm of waiting for events to unfold as planned. Last night I went to Safeway and picked up some snacks and food for the weekend, as my attempt to stay in as much as possible comes closer to fruition.

My mom arrived in town around 7pm I believe and I met up with her and my cousin, David, around 8pm, and we went for a short walk down along Lakeshore Boulevard.

Around 9:30pm I decided to take a hot tub. I hadn't even thought of this before we got into town, but what a brilliant idea. I've been worried about the sore shoulder and hand as I rehab myself, and I was trying to think of ways to keep it loose and stretched. All of a sudden, looming 50 feet away, is our motel's hot tub. I will hit it this afternoon and probably this evening as well. Why not? I need the stretching anyway!

I have a 10am picture-taking session at the Sicamous with the Ironcops team. It will be great to see some of the familiar faces from the Edmonton weekend a month ago. I ran into Mike and Krissy yesterday and it was so good to see them again. I also saw Kerri at the expo as I was finishing up my run. So, I know the folks are all here, now it's just time to race.

At 2pm I am going to be at the Suburu booth putting temporary tattoos with the Cops for Cancer logo on kids (and whomever else). That only lasts just over an hour, and I think it'll be a nice breakup for the day. In the evening, we have the carbo load dinner, followed by the pre-race meeting. I'm somewhat skeptical about going there for the dinner, as I would rather be more in control of my eating schedule, but I will probably head over for the pre-race meeting around 7pm or so and see what's happening there.

All in all, just another day in paradise :). All the athletes should be arriving today so this town will be in full Ironman load. You can already get that sense in the air. I see folks out there biking and running and swimming... And thus, my quiet calm, because I know I scheduled a day off!

Penticton, day one... Postcards from the edge.

I have arrived in Penticton.

Dominique and I arrive around noon, well before I think either of us had expected. As well, the Bowmont Motel was not quite ready for us, so we waited around for about a half an hour while they cleaned the room so that we could get our stuff in. I was anxious to go for a swim as soon as possible.

As soon as we could, we grabbed our wetsuits and walked down to the Sicamous to go for a swim. I had to get a 2.5k swim in and Dominique only had to do 1.5, but she humoured me and swam the full 1k stretch from the Sicamous to the Peach (over by the Lakeshore Resort), and back. The water was really choppy this afternoon and so the swim had some extra difficulty to it. My hand felt okay, but it was definitely a matter of just keeping it moving, because as soon as I rested it for a minute, it started to feel sore... But, after finishing the 2k out-and-back, I sucked it up and added another 10 minutes, bringing my total to approximately 2.5k.

After the swim we raced down to the expo and got ourselves registered. It's like a ride at Disneyland, where you stand in one line to get to another line to get to another line, etc.

After all was said and done, racer #390 is registered and ready to race. I am now sitting on my balcony as we get wireless internet here, and about to go for a run...

"There is nothing noble in being superior to some other man. The true nobility is in being superior to your previous self." - Hindu proverb

Last dance in Van...

Tonight's my last night in Vancouver before I head up for Penticton. I am slowly packing up my bags for the trip, and realizing more and more the beauty of packing light. Not that I am anywhere close, mind you, but as I pack everything in, I realize all the things I can take out and leave at home. Pack light and don't forget your shoes, bike... Everything else is replaceable...

I finished up my swim at Sasamat tonight with one loop of the entire lake. That came out to about 2,100 meters. And it felt good to finish, although I can definitely tell that the swim will continue to be a challenge on Ironman race day. My thumb not only hurts but the whole hand is a little tender. Plus, my arm is quite sore after 2100 meters. Lenka came with me, and I told her after it was great to get it done, as now I feel like I will be able to finish the 3.8k swim... It won't be a piece of cake by any stretch, but it will be done.

And that is all I ask for.

Another day another swim. This time a 1000 meter swim at 2nd beach pool in Stanley Park, followed by the usual Tuesday night run with my clinic. I felt my forearms today and also had a frustrating work day, so I was looking to the swim for some salvation.
I felt pretty good. It definitely is getting stronger and feeling more natural, but I am still very conscious of my swimming technique and having to work to keep a flow going.

The Ironcops folks are up in Penticton and they are taking pictures... www.ironcopsbc.com to see them!

I am going out to Sasamat again tomorrow and I am going to try to swim the lake. For now, I need some sleep...

Back in the water again!!!

I played in the lake tonight...

As the day of work came to a close, Lenka called up to see if I was planning on going to Sasamat Lake for my first attempt at a lake swim in over 5 weeks. I was excited and nervous at the same time. I wasn't sure how much I could handle for swimming, having only gone 500 meters on Sunday but also feeling quite sore and tired afterwards.

So I picked up Lenka around 5:20 after some needlessly crazy Vancouver rush hour. I also stopped to bring my bike in for a final tune-up at the Bike Doctor. We arrived at Sasamat around 6:30 and I went to change and get my wetsuit on. I felt like I hadn't worn it all year. It was difficult to get on completely as my thumb still can't quite grip properly, so I had to maneuver and writhe around a bit just to get it to fit properly. I also couldn't get the back zipper closed so I needed help... I feel like such a wuss.

We got in the water and I realized just how abnormal this all felt. I started swimming out to the canoes - about 550 meters. It was also directly into the sun, and so I was going to also get a crash course refresher in swimming in a straight line and sighting. We got going, and Lenka made it all look easy. I was just trying to remember how the technique works. I got the hang of it after about 200 meters or so, and got into a rhythm, other than just trying to figure out where the canoes were with the sun in my eyes.

We hit the canoes, and I realized I felt great. I was like a kid discovering the water again.

One more hurdle crossed, and I feel great. It's not 3.8k yet, but I feel that every day I am becoming more and more "mobile" and, by Sunday, I should be able to finish the distance. I won't be setting any speed records, but I'll get through it!

This morning I woke up at 4:30am. I decided that today I would spend aobut 30 minutes lying in bed and visualizing the whole race in that 30 minute span. I tried to visualize the perfect race, with everything from the start, and how I wanted to go out, to what my heart rate would look like, to climbing Richter's Pass, the rollers, Yellow Lake, and the marathon. I tried to feel how I wanted to feel at various times on the race course...

I had the perfect race!

The only real limits that we have are those that we place on ourselves...

I think that racing any long distance requires a great deal of optimism, and a certain desire to push our limits. In watching the champions of our sport, Lisa Bentley, Lori Bowden, Natasha Badmann, Faris Al Sultan, etc. I notice they have a real zest for the sport and a real level of positive attitude that is difficult to fake.

Lisa Bentley, especially. I think she makes a point of being positive and, even though I am sure she has her bad days, she really does focus on "feeling good." I think that is a choice she makes, to be positive. Sometimes we think we're the victims of circumstance but, really, we all have a choice to be positive as much as we have the choice to focus on those things that bring us down.

But I think the choice to be positive is most important to being an endurance athlete. I have really tried to do this throughout my training, and I think, for the most part, that I have.

Pushing my limits to give 100% was my goal heading into this, and that's how I am approaching the next 7 days and race day. I really have no time goal in mind. I can't tell how long my swim will go as today, swimming my first 500 meters, I realized just how hard swimming feels right now, having had so much time off. My shoulders were tired quickly, and I didn't feel fluid. I imagine my week will improve this, so we'll have to see what happens, but ultimately I have to take the hand I have been dealt (literally) and take on the race in the best way I can. I'll be the best I can with a sore hand, the best swim I can put forward with little swim practice, and the best day I can have.

It really has become about more than just a time or something trivial. I honestly don't care about my time anymore. I just want to know I showed up.

It's going to be a fun week leading up...

Tapering...

I finished up my ride today and there is definitely some soreness in the left hand. I still have little to no mobility in my wrist and thumb, so it makes reacting to bumps in the road quite uncomfortable. I did not expect that I would have 100% recovery at this point, so I am taking it in stride, hoping that, with each day, I regain more and more ability.

I had planned on heading out for a 100k ride today with the group, and then I looked at my plan, and realized it was supposed to be 110k. Geez, aren't we tapering? Even the 100k seemed a little too long at this point. I was willing to let that go and, at the least, hold back a bit and have a couple of tempo sessions during the ride, but the group was hopped up on excess coffee or something, because they all went out at a pace that just seemed to be a little quick for a taper week. I had two choices, stick with the group or follow what I felt made sense. When I realized our ride might be closer to 115-120k, I made my decision not to go the whole distance. Nothing against anybody out there, but I just wasn't convinced this was going to be helpful.

You have to look, sometimes, at what can be gained vs what can be lost when making any decision. I looked at a long ride of 4-5 hours as having no real benefit, but the potential for negatives, like being fatigued for the race and not adequately recovering. Based on everything I've heard and read, your two weeks prior to a big race are all about getting to the start line as fresh as you can. This doesn't mean shutting down completely for the whole two weeks, but I believe it does mean using workouts to "sharpen the saw," rather than prove something about your fitness. So, when we hit Iona Beach, I made the decision to go back with two others. Our ride wound up around 95km, which was perfect.

The thing is, of course we all feel good and could do more. But what do we gain by it? I felt good after the ride and I know, having done several 160+ rides, a 180k ride and a 210k ride throughout the summer, that I have the bike legs developed. I am not going to lose that in 2 weeks, especially if I just keep biking consistently. For those who haven't done the mileage, maybe it's important to build up more and taper less, but in reality, what does one gain in one week that can help them get through 180k. I have never seen this in anything I have read or with anybody I've talked to who has experience.

Lisa Bentley taught us, at the camp, that the last two weeks are about short stuff and muscle memory. Doing short sessions with more intensity and having longer rests in between intervals. Again, that doesn't mean "do nothing", it just means nothing that should make fatigue you too much.

Anyway, that is me taking responsibility for my own program. If I am wrong, it's my fault and I'll have nobody to blame but me.

And, in all fairness, I had never really talked with my coach about his tapering process, so I feel as though the ball was in my court to bring it up and, when I saw my schedule, I should have at least asked some questions.

I'm going to the pool tomorrow to try some short drills to get a feel for the water again. I am not sure how to approach this week with swimming, but I think that doing some balance drills, and some quick intervals but short sessions, will be the trick. Lisa suggested some reach drills, and doing some 400's at a higher tempo when my hand can handle it. I plan to do this:
200 meter warmup
300 meter various rolling drills and reach drills.
2x 400 intervals
200 meter cooldown (choice of stroke)
TOTAL: 1500 meters

I have a 20k run set up for tomorrow before the swim...

I think I have started to think up some themes. One thing I have realized is that you cannot race at half effort to feel like you accomplished something. I don't care what my finishing time is, but what I do care about is whether or not I put my whole self, mind, body and spirit, into the race. I do want to throw my heart over the top and have it pull my body to it. I want to be completely engrossed in the race while I am there, and give it 100%, and not be a holdout. I think I owe that, and we all deserve to give our best performance.

"Lift the podium!"

Day two of the comeback!

Today I stuck to the weights and some core work. I worked on the Bowflex to try to do some back stability exercises using my Fitball, and also working the stretch cords for some swimming drills. Thrilling, I know, but this is part training, part re-hab, and I was excited to actually be able to use the stretch cords properly tonight. My left shoulder was quite tight, probably the result of not having done the true swimming motion for 6 weeks. So, I did a few 1 minute sets and then took a rest.

All told, about a 50 minute workout. I feel pretty tired and I definitely feel it in my hand and left arm. I think that is understandable. I expect that it will be sore most of the week, so I have to juggle my rehab work with some adequate recovery, so that I can use it most effectively come race weekend. But I also know I can't just let it go, as I need it as functional as possible by next Sunday.

Tonight I am just resting at home, and I plan to get up around 4:30am-5am and eat breakfast, simulating my race experience. I also plan to tweak my nutrition slightly for the ride, opting for eating Clif Bars in the first half of the ride, and switching to Clif shots for the remainder. I am doing this as an experiment to see if my stomach reacts a little better later in the ride. Granted, we're only doing 100km (remind me of the fact I used the word "only" when 100km becomes my longest ride of the season one day) but it's worth checking on in my eyes.

Otherwise we're entering the final week, and I'm getting myself organized and ready. I found out I am getting a new Timex watch as part of the Ironcops team. So cool! Things like that are unnecessary, but they have a way of making you feel like a pro. I can't wait for this coming week and all the activity. It is going to be so much fun. Time to truly savour the moments ahead.

Cast Away...

It has come off... And the pins have been removed...

And a bad pun to boot.

I went to UBC hospital around 10am this morning, not knowing what to expect. Will these things be removed? Will I still need a cast? And, of course, always in the back of my mind, "am I going to race?"

Dr. Bush came in and we chatted about the recovery, and he said if I was ready, he'd take the pins out. IF I am ready??? I thought about giving him this blog url, but then I just wanted to get it done. Plus, if he read it, he might be hesitant thinking that if he took the pins out I'd do something a little nuts, like, race an Ironman in 10 days...

So I agreed, and he explained it would take a couple of seconds, and would sting a little, but after that I'd be fine. I'd go for x-rays, we'd look at them, and most likely I'd need to wear a splint for a couple of weeks... I didn't really hear that last part. I just wanted the cast off and the pins out.

So, we took the cast off, and that's when I saw them for the first time. Two pieces of metal sticking out of my thumb, curled over (I imagine so they wouldn't catch on anything). They looked huge, and thick. Like, thick as a good-sized nail. That was my first shock. My second was when he opened the pliers that would be used to pull them out.

"This will sting a little..."

Hmm. I take it that means no freezing or anaesthetic? Bingo...

I looked down as the doctor applied the pliers and reassured me it would all be over in a moment. Then he said "take a deep breath"... That was my cue to look away, and I did. I took the breath in and then he clamped on, and wriggled and pulled...

That pain I felt last week when I tried to take the cast off was NOTHING. Well, that was just the START of the process. It was absolutely the most painful thing I have ever felt. I can't even describe it, just a complete overwhelming pain.

First pin out... One more... Holy crap...

The Doctor asked if I wanted a second to recover, and I just said "no, let's get it over with." He grabbed the second pin, and gave it a wiggle and a big jerk. Remember that scene in 40-year Old Virgin where they are waxing Steve Carrol's chest hair? I wanted to let ever expletive fly, or at least give up every piece of information I had on anything (I figure this is what torture feels like). But I didn't. I just closed my eyes and breathed deeply.

I stood up to follow the doctor, and my vision started to get white. I needed to sit down, and I sat back down and everything went completely white. I started to slump over to put my head over my knees, figuring I might throw up or completely faint. As soon as I did that, the colour returned to my vision, and I felt a little better.

They took me over to radiology where I sat with a newly released left hand, a thumb that was really stiff, and a wrist that couldn't move at all. Everything was hurting, and I was still reeling from the ancient torture treatment I had just endured.

We took x-rays, and let me say that UBC hospital is very high-tech. Compared to the old-style x-ray machine I have been at so far, this is like a Star Trek ship.

I went back to the Doctor and we looked at my x-rays. He said "looks good"... "looks good?" What does that mean? "It's healed up well" Umm, "but????"

"You won't need any physiotherapy or a splint..."

"Buuuuut??"

"It will be sore for a few days but the best thing you can do is just keep trying to move your fingers and gradually stretch it out. Call and make an appointment to see me in 6 weeks."

And the look on my face of bewilderment and amazement was the same as if I had just discovered Jessica Alba saw me and wants to go on a date... Okay, even BETTER.

So I'm okay.. Free and clear??? Yup...

I was so excited I went back to work! Okay, THAT's not totally exciting. But I am elated! And I have a fairly beaten up left hand, but it's working, and that's all that counts.

So, I will be racer #390 in Penticton... On August 27th.

Postcards from the mind of a guy tapering for Ironman...

Wednesday... T-minus 11 days...

I'm halfway through my first full week of a new job, and the biggest things are yet to surface. This whole "work at 7am" thing is actually helping me get used to a 4:30-5am wakeup AND forcing me to hit the sack earlier... Who knew a job could be good for training :)?

It feels as though Ironman should be further away than it is, and yet in eight days I'll be driving up to Penticton. I'm excited. More than that, I'm feeling as good as I've felt all month. I'm getting over some of the frustration with the cast and spending more and more time zenning out and living in the moment, trying to savour every thought and reflection I find myself drawn to. A lot is repetitive - the usual thoughts of being fortunate, feeling healthy, seeing the start line as the symbol of a year's ambition and dedication - but occasionally I find a new "aha" moment to fill my head with.

I'm hitting it now... Confidence. And I'm not talking about egocentric "I'm great" confidence that needs public announcement, but more a quiet calm and self-assurance that simply says "you are deserving of good". I feel as though the no-quit focus I've been able to build this year has made for natural transitions in everyday life. As an example, I was approaching the end of the day at work and needed to book a demonstration with someone. This requires a little salesmanship and I had been unsuccessful for the majority of the afternoon. 3pm, quitting time, roles around and I'm still stuck having not booked one demo. I talk to my manager and he says "well, let me know when you do" as if to indicate that my day wasn't complete until I booked the appointment. Click, little light on... It WASN'T over. I was getting ready to call it a day before that, and a small little nudge put me back in driver's mode. I got back to my desk and called a few prospects, and within 5 minutes I had booked a demonstration. Not only that, but it took less than a minute - normally this has taken me a half hour to book... I reported I'd booked the tour, and my manager said "great! Have a great afternoon".

The job wasn't complete until the goal was reached...

I don't know why, but all of a sudden I clued in, I'm not done yet. Not until Sunday evening when I cross that line. I got on the bus to go home and started imagining my race a little more. Picturing myself at the starting line of the swim, with a cast-free hand (although I can't remember what my left hand looks like anymore), getting set, and thinking about what I need to do in that moment. Also going though my checklist for the next week and ensuring I have time to get the supplies I need, and get the rest I need. I've kept my schedule pretty light this week, with a couple of barbecues and birthday celebrations to attend, but otherwise a fairly uneventful weekend.

And I have started to visualize my race. To plan out each section and rehearse it in my head. To set myself up for the perfect race, and to ensure that I have backups and emergency preparedness should I need it.

And tonight, I have my last run, hopefully, with my cast on... Tomorrow at 10am it will come off. I am filling myself with all the positive energy I can to make it happen. Tonight, I'll sleep with pins in my thumb for the last time. And then I'll work on making it healthy again, and try to get out to Sasamat for a swim on Sunday... What an amazing day that will be...

What more is there to be thankful for...

Wish you were here... The view from atop looks magnificiant.

T-minus 12 and counting...

I'm slowly feeling in the groove as we get closer and closer to race day. I've consistently been getting a workout in since I took two days in a row off last week. Last night I threw in a 60 minute trainer ride and took things really easy. If my heart rate got about 135 then that happened for less than a minute. Keeping things loose and comfortable, and stretching out my arms in the process.

Afterwards, I grabbed the stretch cords and practiced my swimming technique. I don't think I'll ever get the full hang of them but they've been a good substitute to keep my shoulders used to the swimming technique at least. I can definitely sense that my shoulders will be quite stiff when I finally am able to go for a swim. I'm targetting a Sunday return to the water (all doctor's reports and procedures being positive, of course)...

In life, we have good days and bad days. Some days you win, some days you lose, some days... it rains. I have had my share of both, and I'm spending most of my time refocusing on the positive, and making some steps each day to get mentally ready for the next week.

Ironcops has us pretty busy come race week, which isn't all bad actually. We are supposed to do a group ride on Thursday at 10am, which I will probably miss as I'm leaving that morning from Vancouver. Thursday night is also a concert in the park which I missed four years ago. I think I'll go this year just to soak things in a bit. I have some lawn chairs that I can chill on too. Friday, we have the underpants run at 8am, photos with the team at 10am, and I have a 1.5 hr shift at the Subaru tent for Ironcops with Lisa Bentley being there (so it'll be busy). Friday also has the participants meeting and the carbo load dinner, which I may not attend as I have family and friends in town and this would be the best time to see them. Saturday is the Parade of Athlete's. So, between that, checking in, getting a couple of small workouts in, and checking my bike on Saturday, I've got a bit of a schedule going! I don't mind right now. I like feeling a little busy and it will keep me from wondering "what to do" half the time. On Monday is when the real fun begins...

Monday I have a massage at 11am, then the awards dinner in the evening, with an Ironcops pub party after. Tuesday at noon we're meeting to float down the canal, and then another get together in the evening. On Wednesday, I will be driving home and hitting work in the afternoon.

So far I've hit the $3,000 mark in my fundraising. I am anticipating another $900 or so which would be great, but I still want to get some more in before the 20th, when we cut off the fundraising for this year. It would be great to be above $4000 going into the weekend, as I could really feel like I accomplished something for the team as well as myself.

Tonight I'm running about 6k, and then hitting the stretch cords again. Nice and easy, almost informal... And yet it all has purpose and flow as we hit t-minus 12 days... And 2 nights of sleep until the cast comes off (okay, I'm willing it to happen)...

Liones had his blanket... I have my bat. It's a Louisville Slugger that I picked up in Louisville in 2002 while going to my buddy's wedding. It's custom made at the actual Louisville Slugger baseball bat factory.

I digress, but it's a little security blanket and it helps me when I need to think.

Which I am doing. Right now, though, it's thinking about the race. I ran a 30k slow run yesterday as my last long run and felt great afterwards. I actually was surprised at how effortless it all was. I had worried about my fitness heading into the weekend because I just felt very lethargic. Even though I know it's all part of tapering it still is easier to talk practically than to feel it. You just don't feel right when you're tapering properly...

I feel much, much better. Dr's appointment Thursday for the cast!

Some outside inspiration

Sometimes inspiration comes from someone who has completed this journet before:

Time for the questions

Right now you've all entered the taper. Perhaps you've been at this a few
months, perhaps you've been at this a few years. For some of you this is
your first IM, for others, a long-overdue welcome back to a race that few
can match.

You've been following your schedule to the letter. You've been piling on
the mileage, piling up the laundry, and getting a set of tan lines that will
take until November to erase. Long rides were followed by long runs, which
both were preceded by long swims, all of which were followed by recovery
naps that were longer than you slept for any given night during college.

You ran in the snow.
You rode in the rain.
You ran in the heat.
You ran in the cold.

You went out when others stayed home.
You rode the trainer when others pulled the covers over their heads.

You have survived the Darwinian progression that is an Ironman summer, and
now the hardest days are behind you. Like a climber in the Tour de France
coming over the summit of the penultimate climb on an alpine stage, you've
already covered so much ground...there's just one more climb to go. You
shift up, you take a drink, you zip up the jersey; the descent lays before
you...and it will be a fast one.

Time that used to be filled with never-ending work will now be filling with
silent muscles, taking their final, well-earned rest. While this taper is
something your body desperately needs, Your mind, cast off to the background
for so very long, will start to speak to you.

It won't be pretty.

It will bring up thoughts of doubt, pain, hunger, thirst, failure, and loss.
It will give you reasons why you aren't ready. It will try and make one
last stand to stop you, because your brain doesn't know what the body
already does. Your body knows the truth:

You are ready.

Your brain won't believe it. It will use the taper to convince you that
this is foolish - that there is too much that can go wrong.

You are ready.

Finishing an Ironman is never an accident. It's the result of dedication,
focus, hard work, and belief that all the long runs in January, long rides
in April, and long swims every damn weekend will be

worth it. It comes from getting on the bike, day in, day out. It
comes from long, solo runs. From that first long run where you wondered,
"How will I ever be ready?" to the last long run where you smiled to
yourself with one mile to go...knowing that you'd found the answer.

It is worth it. Now that you're at the taper, you know it will be worth it.
The workload becomes less. The body winds up and prepares, and you just
need to quiet your worried mind. Not easy, but you can do it.

You are ready.

You will walk into the lagoon on August 27th with 2200 other wide-open sets
of eyes. You will look upon the sea of humanity, and know that you belong.
You'll feel the chill of the water crawl into your wetsuit, and shiver like
everyone else, but smile because the day you have waited for, for so VERY
long is finally here.

The bagpipers will walk across the beach. Steve King will ask you to sing
along. You will.

O Canada!
Our home and native land!
True patriot love in all thy sons command.

With glowing hearts we see thee rise,
The True North strong and free!

>From far and wide,
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

God keep our land glorious and free!
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

You will tear up in your goggles. Everyone does.

The helicopters will roar overhead.
Maranatha will roar. The splashing will surround you.

You'll stop thinking about Ironman, because you're now racing one.

The swim will be long - it's long for everyone, but you'll make it. You'll
watch as the Penticton Lakeside Hotel grows and grows, and soon you'll hear
the end. You'll come up the beach and head for the wetsuit strippers.
Three people will get that sucker off before you know what's happening, then
you'll head for the bike.

In the shadows on Main Street you'll spin out of town - the voices, the
cowbells, and the curb-to-curb chalk giving you a hero's sendoff. You won't
wipe the smile off your face for miles as you whisk along the lakeside, past
fully stocked, silent aid stations for the run to come.

You'll spin up McLean Creak Road. You'll roll down towards Osoyoos, past
the vineyards glowing in the morning sun. You'll settle down to your race.
The crowds will spread out on the road. You'll soon be on your bike, eating
your food on your schedule, controlling your Ironman.

Richter Pass will come. Everyone talks about it, but it's really nothing.
You'll know this halfway up, as you're breathing easy and climbing smoothly.
Look to your right. Look how high you're climbing. Look at all the bikes
below, still making their way there. You're ahead of them. All of them.
You'll climb over Richter, and descend to the valley below. You'll ride the
rollers, one at a time. You'll start to feel that morning sun turn to
afternoon sun. It's warmer now. Maybe it's hot. Maybe you're not feeling
so good now. You'll keep riding. You'll keep drinking. You'll keep moving.
After all, this is just a long training day with valet parking and catering,
right?

You'll put the rollers behind you. You'll head into the Cawston out and
back. You'll put on your game face, fighting the urge to feel down as you
ride the wrong way for what seems like hours. 10 miles in, you reach
special needs, fuel up, and head out.

By now it'll be hot. You'll be tired. Doubts will fight for your focus.
Everyone struggles here. You've been on that bike for a few hours, and
stopping would be nice, but you won't - not here. Not today. You'll ride
on leaving Cawston behind you and head for the final showdown at Yellow
Lake.

You'll grind the false flats to the climb. You'll know you're almost there.
You'll fight for every inch of road. You'll make the turn towards the
summit as the valley walls close in for the kill, and put your head down.
The crowd will come back to you here - the cars are always waiting to cross
the summit, and you'll soon be surrounded in the glorious noise that is the
final climb of Ironman Canada. Let their energy push you. Let them see
your eyes. Smile when they cheer for you

- your body will get just that little bit lighter.

Grind.
Fight.
Suffer.
Persevere.
Summit.

Just like that, you'll be descending. 12 miles to go, and no climbing left.
You'll plunge down the road, swooping from corner to corner, chaining
together the turns, tucking on the straights, letting your legs recover for
the run to come - soon! You'll roll back into town - you'll see people
running out. You'll think to yourself, "Wasn't I just here?" The noise
will grow. The chalk dust will hang in the air - you're back in Penticton,
with only 26.2 miles to go. You'll relax a little bit, knowing that even if
you get a flat tire or something breaks here, you can run the damn bike into
T2.

You'll roll into transition. 100 volunteers will fight for your bike.
You'll give it up and not look back. You'll have your bag handed to you,
and into the tent you'll go. You'll change. You'll load up your pockets,
and open the door to the last long run of your Ironman summer - the one that
counts.

You'll take that first step of a thousand...and you'll smile. You'll know
that the bike won't let you down now - the race is down to your own two
feet. The same crowd that cheered for you in the shadows of the morning
will cheer for you in the brilliant sunshine of a Penticton summer Sunday.
High-five people on the way out. Smile. Enjoy it. This is what you've
worked for all year long.
That first mile will feel great. So will the second.
By mile 3, you probably won't feel so good.

That's okay. You knew it couldn't all be that easy. You'll settle down
just like you did on the bike, and get down to your pace. You'll see the
leaders coming back the other way. Some will look great - some won't. You
might feel great, you might not. No matter how you feel, don't panic - this
is the part of the day where whatever you're feeling, you can be sure it
won't last.

You'll keep moving. You'll keep drinking. You'll keep eating. Maybe
you'll be right on plan - maybe you won't. If you're ahead of schedule,
don't worry - believe. If you're behind, don't panic - roll with it.
Everyone comes up with a brilliant race plan for Ironman, and then everyone
has to deal with the reality that planning for something like Ironman is
like trying to land a man on the moon. By remote control. Blindfolded.

How you react to the changes in your plan will dictate your day. Don't
waste energy worrying about things - just do what you have to when you have
to, and keep moving. Keep eating. Keep drinking. Just don't sit down -
don't EVER sit down.

You'll make it to halfway at OK Falls. You'll load up on special needs.
Some of what you packed will look good, some won't. Eat what looks good,
toss the rest. Keep moving. Start looking for people you know. Cheer for
people you don't. You're headed in - they're not. They want to be where you
are, just like you wanted to be when you saw all those fast people headed
into town. Share some energy - you'll get it right back.

Run if you can.
Walk if you have to.
Just keep moving.

The miles will drag on. The brilliant Penticton sunshine will yawn, and
head for the mountains behind the bike course...behind that last downhill
you flew down all those hours ago. You'll be coming up to those aid
stations you passed when you started the bike...fully alive with people,
music, and chicken soup. TAKE THE SOUP. Keep moving.

You'll soon only have a few miles to go. You'll start to believe that
you're going to make it. You'll start to imagine how good it's going to
feel when you get there. Let those feelings drive you on. When your legs
just don't want to move anymore, think about what it's going to be like when
someone catches you...puts a medal over your head...

...all you have to do is get there.

You'll start to hear town. People you can't see in the twilight will cheer
for you. They'll call out your name. Smile and thank them. They were
there when you left on the bike, and when you came back, when you left on
the run, and now when you've come back.



You'll enter town. You'll start to realize that the day is almost over.
You'll be exhausted, wiped out, barely able to run a 10-minute mile (if
you're lucky), but you'll ask yourself, "Where did the whole day go?"
You'll be standing on the edge of two feelings - the desire to finally stop,
and the desire to take these last moments and make them last as long as
possible.

You'll hit mile 25. You'll turn onto Lakeside Drive. Your Ironman Canada
will have 1.2 miles - just 2KM left in it.

You'll run. You'll find your legs. You'll fly. You won't know how, but
you will run. You'll make the turn in front of the Sicamous in the dark,
and head for home. The lights will grow brighter, brighter, and brighter.
Soon you'll be able to hear the music again. This time, it'll be for keeps.

You'll listen for Steve King. Soon they'll see you. Soon, everyone will see you.

You'll run towards the lights, between the fences,

and into the nightsun made just for you.

They'll say your name.
You'll keep running.
Nothing will hurt.
The moment will be yours - for one moment, the entire world will be looking
at you and only you.

You'll break the tape. The flash will go off.

You'll stop. You'll finally stop. Your legs will wobble their last, and
suddenly...be capable of nothing more.

Someone will catch you.
You'll lean into them.

It will suddenly hit you.
You will be an Ironman.

You are ready.

Hurricane Bob
* You are ready. *

Down-trodden times...

I'm going to preface this by saying I have reached a high point of impatience as of today. I don't know what brought it on except for the fact that I've now had to take a pain killer 3 of the last 4 days for my thumb.

I don't believe that it's because it hasn't been healing that it is hurting, but I do think that a combination of the lack of movement in my hand, the sensitivity of my skin underneath the cast and the wires in my thumb are creating the pain and discomfort. It's just that it is starting to get to me.

Initially I didn't want to write that as I have been using this blog more to help me sort out these messes and come out with the positive. But I can't ignore it, and really I did want to know the ugly side of what I'd be dealing with. But instead of focusing on my mental state I'm sitting hear getting frustrated with my cast and thumb. I had a chat with my coach tonight, and he expressed concern about my swimming and whether or not I'd be able to get enough practice in before the race. Truth is, I don't know... I imagine not. I won't have swum since July 9th, and so even a 1k or 1.5k swim will feel tough I imagine. So, getting to 3.8k? I have no idea how that'll be. He didn't help in sounding as worried as I was, but I understand the concern. The truth is: I am not ready for the swim... And I can't predict how I'm going to respond on (optimistically) 7-8 days of swimming...

I'm just being honest... I am scared of what is coming up. I don't know what is going on under my cast and that has me in knots. My nerves are rattled.

I rode on the trainer for 2 hours today on a workout planned by Dean. And I have a scheduled 29k with the Running Room in the morning tomorrow. I have taken Thursday and Friday off to kick start my tapering, and I think the let-down has also affected my mood a bit. Good thing I don't have a steady girlfriend right now or she might not want to be around... Actually, I'm feeling quite anti-social... I was at the Stormy 64k Ultramarathon to watch some friends compete. My friend Rachel came in 2nd overall for the women, which was incredible. I think watching that was the best thing as it took my mind off my arm. I'll tell that story when I finish downloading the pictures.

I think that a lot of what I'm frustrated with is that I really have hoped to come to Ironman in the best shape of my life. Coming off a personal best in Osoyoos, where the injury occurred in the first place, I had such a great feeling about where I'd come. And even training through the injury, biking my long rides and getting in my runs, I felt stronger and stronger. Now, with two weeks until race day, I'm at a crossroads. The next few days could determine the final chapter to this story, and I have no choice but to attack them, day by day, and do what I can... The thing is, I can't do much... I'm supposed to rest...

Arguably, this can be the toughest time for most athletes. The Taper. It seems like a good notion at first... after all, getting some relief from a year of building is a wonderful luxury to be appreciated. And, for a couple of days, it's wonderful... Except after that you get restless, and tempted to feel undertrained. That's where I am at. It's a natural process as my body enters "uber-recovery", but it's far from comfortable. In fact it is quite rough. And, mentally, I'm adding the fact that my workouts are compromised with my thumb, and not riding outside, and not swimming, and taking a T-3 just to sleep...

It's all a bit unnerving....

I'm doing what I can do right now. I am eating a lot of fruits and veggies, and drinking lots of water. I'm taking vitamins and Omega-3's, and catching 15-20 minutes of sun at a time in orde to get my vitamin D. I'm washing my right hand more often to avoid germs... Essentially, I am creating a bubble-boy environment to avoid infection or colds, as the super-recovery also means I am more susceptible to such ailments.

And to mood swings. Normally mild-mannered and emotionally level, I feel lately like my heart is breaking for no apparent reason, as though the Ironman is a relationship that is coming to an end and I can't stop it or do anything about it.

I've turned to my creature comforts. Watching James Bond movies as I go to bed early (to rise by 5am for work and preparing for that Ironman wake-up call)... Reading inspiring literature and quotes, and writing.

I've begun to try to take back control of my situation and go back to my basics, in other words. I did, after all, choose to compete in this event. I paid for it, planned for it, and have invested my time, money and body into it. My choice, nobody elses...

This hurts right now... But I REALLY want to race right now. I'm so hungry for it I can taste it already. I really want to conquer this challenge and take that to the Ironman.

I know what I will do the moment the cast comes off, the pins come off and the holes in my thumb have healed up... I'm going for a plunge in the ocean...

"Being a Champion means finishing what you start!" - Lisa Bentley

News from the battlefield...

Here I thought I'd be up and running, working a full day's work and keeping up with the blog, and training my little heart out... Well, there have been a few small changes.

I went to the Doctor's on Tuesday and found out that the little fracture is still a little fracture, so the cast cannot come off just yet. That is okay, given my previous expectation that I would be sidelined with this until the 17th... However, I was a little curious before I heard the results and proceeded to take the cast off. Well, I got almost to the full "unveiling" when I started to try to move my thumb. And then, as if I had just been poked with a cattle prod, a shot of pain went right from my thumb and up my arm. It was absolute agony... And I couldn't stop it and all, so I immediately did whatever I could to secure the cast in place and immobilize my thumb. I wrapped a tensor bandage around the cast and just tried to make it as comfortable as possible. The radiating pain began, slowly, to subside, and come back to normal, but stuck with me for the remainder of the afternoon... I popped a T-3 to help me function.
That was Tuesday afternoon. I have felt a dulling pain ever since then. I am told by a few that I essentially was trying to move a thumb that has two issues: 1) it hasn't moved at all in 4 weeks and 2) it has two skewer-like wires in it that are designed to immobilize it. I was, in essence, using the bone of my thumb to pull on the wires, and that was sending my nerves into an absolute terror.

SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOoooooooo.... No more of that! After hearing that I would probably have to wait until the 17th AND this aformentioned pain, I have decided it is in my best interests to shut down the majority of my "impact training" (i.e. running and outdoor cycling) until the wires are removed (again, hopefully on the 17th). What does this leave me with? Physio ball, stretch cords and indoor cycling... Yup, that's it...

Last week, this would have been more of a concern. I felt as though I still needed to get some high volume training in. But, as we get closer to the race, I am more concerned with GETTING to the race than anything else, and I am going to play it very safe from this point on. Since we are tapering anyway, I am going to do whatever I can to make sure I get at least a 45 minute ride in on the trainer every day and do some core work. I can handle the extra rest...

I am taking control of my training program right now, as I need to listen to how my arm responds. I think a week of little-no impact on my thumb may help it heal just a bit more steadily.

We're starting to cut things a little close, though... I have a 6-day window from the time I see the Doctor until I leave for Ironman, so if it isn't fixed enough by next Thursday, then I will have to re-evaluate everything. And that is not a scenario that I want to deal with...

I never imagined, when I started this story and journey, that I'd be writing about the possibility of not starting the race. I knew I'd have some tests and challenges to overcome, but I never presumed I'd be questioning the very thought of actually being able to compete...

All I know is how much more the start line means to me now than it did a year ago...

Something my friend, Lisa, sent me... Pretty cool little play-on-logo.

Post-Ironman planning...

I have begun thinking about "post-Ironman" activity and goals... I know, for some of us that's like looking beyond Christmas or looking too far ahead. Why not just focus on the next 18 days?

Simple, I need goals. I am a person who doesn't want this all to just end on the Monday after the event.

I need new challenges and adventures.

And I think one of my challenges is to create a balanced lifestyle, using Ironman challenges and other ultra-endurance activity as a vehicle to keep me at the high level of activity that I have realized is an essential part of my life. But other areas have definitely taken a passenger seat to this pursuit, and I am interested now in re-involving those areas into my life.

I still plan to continue racing and training at the Ironman level. I have already set my sights on the Osoyoos Half Ironman for next year, as I figure there is no better way to attack the race that broke my thumb than head on (and, this time, with a little slow down before the turns in town). I am also looking at doing the Stormy Ultramarathon next August. These are pretty fun challenges that I think will gear me up for another return to Ironman Canada 2008 as part of the Ironcops team again - they organize every 2 years and being a part of that team has been something I would like to do every two years. I'll be 34 that year.

Immediately after Ironman, I have a few days of R&R before I gear up for the Portland Marathon on October 1st. I wanted to do a fall marathon and I figured what better way than to get a new marathon course for fun.

I start a new job tomorrow that I'm really psyched about. I love starting down a new career path, although I hope I am not making a habit of "changing careers" too often. I believe, though, that when you find something that challenges you, gives you a sense of purpose, and supports the lifestyle that is important for you, then you stick with it as long as that works. I think I've started that with this new job, and I am looking forward to it. I've set up a little "reward" if I am successful at this job, as a lot of my salary is dependent on commission (or, at least, the ability to really be financially free)... At Christmas I will assess where I am at and, if I am doing well, I will sign up for the Great Floridian Triathlon in Florida for October, 2007. It's an iron-distance event and is quite well-run and organized as I understand it. It works perfectly in that I don't need to commit at all until I know I can afford it and know I have earned the right to go. A little "carrot" for me.

I also want to take some time and spend my fall and early winter in boxing training again. I will sit down after Ironman and figure out what I need to do. And, of course, I want to go snowboarding this winter, again dependant on some financial security. You gotta have a little "jack" to do all the things I love doing, and one thing I insist on, this year, is becoming more stable and paying off some old bills including my student loan.

I think the big point is trying to become more diverse. I love the focus of Ironman, but Ironman is one of those socially acceptable addictions that we sometimes need to put in context. Really, I use it because I feel great because of it, and I think that it's good to balance that out with other things. Relying on the "training drug" has a risk of losing it, and then you can get into trouble. Reliance is dependency.

And it's nice to think about, as I realize the Ironman will be with me again, and I'll be able to train for it, on my terms and in my way, as part of the Ironcops team, in 2008. I'm setting up some long-term investing, and some short-term investing, all interlaced so that I keep it interesting in the process.

18 days... Lots more thinking out loud for me between now and then.