Recently, I saw an episode of a show called “My strange addiction” or maybe it was called “My Secret Addiction”, or something along those line. It was very disturbing. Not because of the girl who eats chalk, or compulsive shopper who is $100 000 in debt because she spends 5 days a week at the mall. Or the girl who eats toilet paper till she gets ill. But because amongst these odd stories they included someone so insane, someone so odd even his girlfriend can’t understand or put up with it. He runs. Yup, he runs. Sometimes twice a day. Crazy. He runs marathons, and even did his first ultramarathon. Now, this caught me by surprise a bit. I consider ultra-marathons only slightly more nutty than Ironman, but not that much. And I was always aware that it is a bit past the “get 30 minutes or exercise” kind lifestyle guideline. But really, I might as well be eating laundry detergent?
Click here to view the embedded video.]]>
I had knit a few things before, but never actually finished something. This time I would start, and finish a project, I vowed. Ok, so maybe I didn’t actually know how to knit, but I could learn. Well, when I get an idea in my head sometimes I go a bit overboard. So I started knitting every spare minute of the day. And just like when you are in the middle of a good book you can’t put down without reading another page, I couldn’t stop until I finished just another row. Now, knitting may seem like a pretty easy hobby. Wrong!!! First, it drained my brain power, as I spent hours trying to figure out blurry photos in books, and then hours watching you tube videos of stitches. There seem to be seven ways to do each little thing it seemed. And since I hold my fork funny, my chop stick even more oddly, it is no surprise that I hold knitting needles even more strangely. And yes, there are a million you tube videos of just knitting, who knew. Crazy.
Once I got some technique, I then went overboard on volume. Yup, no stopping me, I had gifts to make for Christmas, and a deadline, and overestimated how many hours are in a day. Gradually my right shoulder started to get stiff, then sore, then painful. Hmm… too much swimming? Nope. Too much snow shoveling..not enough snow yet, so nope. Too much knitting? Yikes, I have given myself my first knitting injury. But I pushed through, I could not be stopped. I would rest my arm on a pillow while knitting, massage the shoulder, then go back to knitting some more. I would get stronger from this. This was like a new strength training method.
And it seemed the cure for knitters shoulder was more knitting. Good things, since there was no moving Christmas day to a later date. So now the gifts are made, and I am already starting a list of bigger, and more strenuous projects. Now hope I am strong enough to get them done.]]>
A) You swam like a pork chop!
Doc to Jodie Swallow, in Leysin, after a less then stellar swim the previous weekend at a race. Now, I must admit this one caught me off guard a bit, never quite knew pork chops could swim.
Jodie has now elevated pork chop swimming to an entirely new level- first out of the water at World 70.3 Champs, and first across the line. Hope I can aspire to pork chop swimming one day.
B) Keep out of the fridge
Doc to me pretty much all the time. The funny thing is as Nicola pointed out- I just picture myself sitting inside the fridge at every spare moment. Why hang out on the couch, when there is a perfectly nice fridge on hand.
C) Can I wipe my extra mustard on your hotdog?
Guess who- post Embrun triathlon- someone got carried away with spicey mustard.
European post race food is quite different than North American post race pizza and watermelon. Sausage, coffee, and fries were on order in France. About an hour after the race, once my sugar overloaded stomach settled down we were all keen for anything salty, or greasy, or both. Of course James was the only one smart enough to have money on hand, so treated Scotty, Brandon and me to some treats. I am a mustard lover, known to make sandwiches with the only ingredient being mustard, but did not realize just how spicey French mustard could be. Hence the quote. Of course it takes a couple of boys to make an innocent comment sound x-rated.
D) These girls really know what they are doing.
Commentator on Women’s Weight Lifting Champs on Euro sport. A pretty dumb comment. But when Eurosport is the only thing on tv in English I will watch almost anything. And actually weight lifting was very cool- I love that you can often see the actual breaking point. Interesting also how the commentators where speculating on the lifts as the athletes walked on stage- “she is walking with confidence and purpose- this should be an easy lift….”
And of course there is always the possibility of disaster, which adds some excitement to a sport. There is a reason why bike, car and human crashes get replayed, and replayed. Yes, we are all a bit malicious deep down.
E) Screw your head on.
Doc- pretty much anytime I do something dumb. Yes, that does happen occasionally.
F) Get your head out of your A**
Doc- a little more firm way of saying E). Also used often.]]>
Then there was the first ever Macel vacation.
It included some water sports, surfing, snorkeling, handstand pool walking and synchronized swimming.
The best sushi, ever, ever, ever, was discovered in Kona, and now spoils any future sushi outings.
There was some serious card playing, and of course the only reason to own an ipad- angry birds.
Then a trip home, and my plan to not have a plan for a few days.
Not having a plan was not so easy.
And now October seems to be pretty much over.]]>
T- Hi, where are you? Work or at home?
T- Oh, what time is it there?
C- It’s 3:30
T- Hmm, really. Tuesday or Wednesday?
C- Didn’t we go through this yesterday when you got to Toronto from Switzerland.
T- Yeah, I think so. So what day again?
T- Ok, fine if you are going to be a smartass about it.
Ok, so I am still time zone challenged. I travelled for more than 24 hours, changed way too many time zones, and am lucky I know when to wake up and when to go to sleep. I can’t also keep track of what time it is for everyone else half way around the world as well.
Training is going fine. Good days, and tough days, and sometimes both at once. It is funny, some days you have lots of speed, or gears or choices in training, and other days there is only moving, or being still. The other day at swimming was one of those days. Usually I have a slow, medium, fast, and faster speed, but yesterday the only gears I had were on and off, or swim or sink. There was no fast, and there was definitely no very fast, since even moving forward seemed to require all my energy. I was not sure if it was a good or bad thing that Doc was not on deck. If he had been he would have probably would have had to throw in the inflatable life saving ring, since I pretty much looked like I might drown at any moment. Or he could have simply let loose one of the famous motivational talks that go something along the lines of “ If you are not bleeding out of your ears you are not going hard enough”.
Speaking of Doc’s stories, the other day he reminisced about a trip to Wilkes Barre for a triathlon.
Well, I remember Wilkes Barre and my first ITU points there, way back in the day when everyone was still riding aluminum bikes. Jasper Blake, Loch Vollmerhaus and I went on a road trip, in Jazzy’s Westafahlia. Half the time I have no idea where I am going, or where I have just been, so I had to look it up, and even decided to share the map.
Long story short- walking around after the race whenever anyone asked “How was your race?” My answer was “ I AM GETTING DRUG TESTED!”. How awesome. This was my first ever drug test, which in my books meant I must have had a good enough race to warrant drug testing. How exciting. Well, the excitement wore off a bit when an official had to follow me around, every moment, until I was ready to pee. So I drank as many bottles of water as I could get my hands on, and finally was ready to do it. Of course then I found out you first have to fill out a ton of forms, which I did not take into account, and my ready to pee moment, was soon must pee, was soon am bursting to go pee, while still filling out form after form, selecting which cup to pee in, which vial to store my pee in, which plastic bag to put it all in after, and a million other little choices you usually do not have to make in a normal bathroom break.
Finally, the paperwork done, and I found out that an official must come into the bathroom with me, and watch me actually go pee. Ok, this is not so glamorous anymore I thought. But my excitement was not to be destroyed so easily. It was a pretty memorable experience. And when I hear the name Wilkes Barre all I can think of is my first ever drug test.]]>
It all started with a train being 7 minutes late in Lausanne. I have taken the train in Switzerland quite a few times now, and have only witnessed a 2 minute delay once, for which the conductor seemed very apologetic. In Canada if a bus comes within a half hour of a scheduled time you can celebrate, and be thankful that it was your lucky day. So 7 minutes, maybe that was the first sign. Then there were some flight delays, missed flights, an extra very short overnight stay in Vancouver, and two days later I arrived in Penticton, Canada. All good so far. It meant a very quick couple of days doing some pre race interviews, and getting my stuff organized, and not thinking too much about feeling good or bad, but just getting in a few short workouts.
Race morning was cool, but nice, and there was a prediction of a high temperature of about 21 with not much wind. Perfect. I went down to the water about 20 minutes early, to get in a bit of a swim, and not feel rushed. I asked a fellow athlete to zip up my wetsuit, and as she was doing so I hear her say “uhh… this is not right”. She called over another person to give her a hand, and a minute later I had two people standing behind me, struggling to do up my zipper which had jammed. Five minutes later I had 4 people trying to help me out, while the race announcer made the 10 minutes to race start call. I started to think of my alternatives- get another wetsuit- so asked if the race announcer could ask if anyone had a spare suit, close to my size. Meanwhile the zipper is completely jammed, and I am half done up. The 5 minute to race start announcement is made. Ok, my next option was to try to get out of the suit, and swim without a wetsuit. It would be cold, but doable, and I would lose a bit of time on the swim, but it is a long day, and I could still be ok. With 4 minutes before race start one of my helpers says “ok, it is kind of done up, it should hold, swing your arms a bit and see what happens”. So I do a few arm swings, and it seem to hold, so I just hope it holds for the 3.8 km swim. If not and it opens up then I figure I will have to try to get out of mid swim, and just leave it floating somewhere, and finish without the suit. I just hope the kayakers out there don’t see the potentially floating empty suit and start a body search. Ok, my imagination was in overgear. I tried to refocus. I made it t to the start line, part way in the water, the gun went off, and the race was on. So far so good, I tried to get into a good swim rhythm, and not think too far ahead. The swim was pretty calm compared to the pre-swim beginning of my day. I exited the water first woman, ran to the wet suit strippers and said “ my wetsuit is jammed, just pull as hard as you can!” I was lifted off my feet as 2 guys janked the zipper up, but it did not budge. I felt like I was on a trampoline as I was lifted a few more times, with each attempt to get the zipper open. No hope. OK- “scissors, does anyone have scissors” I yelled. The volunteers found some scissors and proceed to cut me out of the suit. Yup, cut me out of the suit, This was definitely a bizzare day. The universe would later remind me that at one point I had a nice cozy suit on, and perhaps should have left it on, the zipper was a sign.
Finally onto the bike, I started to push the pace early, trying to find my rhythm, and build a bit of a lead. All was fine till about 70 km when my legs started to not enjoy the ride so much anymore. My lead was still growing, but so was the weakness in my legs. By 100 km I was barely making it up even the smallest hill, and my legs felt like they weren’t even there. I was in quite a bit of trouble, and am surprised I did not fall over I was going so slow. I must admit, this is were I made a couple of big mistakes, bigger than usual. I stopped eating at the regular intervals I usually do, and I started thinking too much. And thinking not so happy thoughts. Of course low blood sugar means more negative thoughts, and more negative thoughts meant I focused less and less on the process, and more on how badly I felt and what might happen. By now instead of a nice balmy afternoon, the temperature started dropping, the roads ahead were damp, then wet, then it started to rain, then it started to hail. Hmm, where was my warm wetsuit now? Maybe I should have kept it on for the bike ride. The hail was bouncing off my arms, deflected by the goosebumps, and as I headed down the long, fast descent into town I am not sure what was causing my wheel to wobble more- the gusty wind, or my teeth chattering from the cold. This was the final straw, I was hanging on by a thread, trying to get my non existent legs to pedal, and now I was cold as well as just barely moving forward.
I must say thank you to the volunteers in the transition tent, who saw me come in, unable to talk because I was so cold. They were super, two took my hands and started to rub them to get some blood back into them, while the third gave me a huge bear hug saying “I hope this is ok, I am going to try to warm you up using body heat”. I am not sure I would want to be hugging a wet, cold, cranky, hungry stranger, but this lady was a trooper. After some serious help getting my socks and shoes on, I shuffled out onto the run course, not fully sure why, since my mind checked out long before that, and I left my body somewhere on the downhill into town. It is very hard to think straight mid race, so I am still not sure if the decision to call it a day early into the run was a wise one. It definitely was not an easy one, and neither was accepting the disappointment in the pit of my stomach for the next week.
Well, the universe tried to tell me that maybe I should not go, starting with that seven minute train delay. Then it tried to warn me that 21 degrees forecast in Canada can easily mean 9 degrees and hail, and wearing a wetsuit might have been smarter. Or maybe I am just trying to come up with some answers why some days a race is more about survival than racing, and why some days it comes together while other days you fight for it, and some days there is not enough fight in you to get the job done.
1) DId some training, and a lot of recovering.
2) My sister came to visit- along with 2 friends, and a cute but smelly dog. It was a cozy weekend in the apartment, the sofa bed, and futon finally got used.
5) Then it was time for trains ( 4 hour train ride to Zurich) Planes ( Zurich to Toronto, 3 hour delay in Toronto, then flight to Vancouver). Hotels ( 5 hours in hotel in Vancouver after missed connection), More planes ( Vancouver to Penticton), automobiles- taxi ride to hotel. Whew, I lost a couple of days in there somewhere.
Now I am in Pentitcon, for IM Canada. Lots of good vibes, and good memories, as last year I had a great, and smooth race here and finished first. My mom, and brother and Chris are all here as well, which almost completes a perfect weekend. Finishing the race tomorrow, hopefully with a smile should complete it. I was a bit nervous, returning to an ironman as previous winner, for the first time. Even a bigger surprise was that I got the race number 1, which usually goes the top male athlete, and the women get the higher numbers. I was surprised that this year it is the ladies with the low numbers. It made me even more nervous till my brother helped me out, it’s not #1, which might be pressure to live up to ( I have never had a single digit number at an ironman), but instead it is 01, no pressure.]]>