"I'll carry the weight", or 2013 Subaru Vancouver Sprint Triathlon pregnant 'race' report

This song struck me quite emotionally while running yesterday, from Canadian artist Serena Ryder, about what it's been like to run around with this little bean in me for the last 8 months:

.......

I'll carry the weight
I'll do anything for you
My bones may break
But I'll never be untrue...

Your love is like an ocean
That always takes me home
Whispering wind is blowing
Telling me I'm not alone
Your love is like a river
That I am floating down
I've never been a swimmer
But I know that I'll never drown

The current grows stronger
Under different shades of blue
I've fallen in your water
Forget everything I knew....

Oh, what I wouldn't do....

There have been some amazing moments running along in the past few weeks, where I go from totally irritated (read: often my bladder), sore, grumpy, frustrated, to completely inspired, light, strong, floating even.  It can change so quickly and is unlike anything I ever felt in training before.  And it goes back & forth, and I just have to ride it out for the better or for the worse, sort of like these weird semi-contractions I can get from time to time.  But it makes me feel alive, and I think that is a major reason why I stick with it.  And it gives good reason as why I chose to race this past weekend.

So how did it go, you ask?  Let me tell you!

"I wanted to ask but.....", "Are you pregnant?", and "Are you doing the whole thing?".

 Most common phrases heard during last week's Subaru Vancouver Sprint Triathlon.  Honestly, people, are you polite or are you actually doubtful?  I know we live in a world of inane political correctness, but come on.  Lean girl eats a cantaloupe whole for lunch?  Like how a snake eats a pig?  I think it's become more obvious to me when girls are pregnant, so I know I should cut people some slack.  But it would be so funny if I wasn't, how on earth could you get a belly like that?

"You are totally my hero".  "You are so inspirational".  "You are crazy".  Ah, the love.

In any case, yes, I did the whole thing.  As in, the shortest races I've ever done.  500m swim, 20km bike, and 5km run.  It was awesome.  I would also like to include that if you are racing while reasonably pregnant, the transitions really should be included, as to me, they were actually the harder events.  No kidding.  Run up long beach in sand when your ligaments are slowly turning to rubber bands? Check.  Get biking shoes on while not sticking out your rear so far that no one can get by with their bike?  Get on & off bike while people watch you and wonder, "what the hell is up with her stomach?" Return & put on running shoes & then get upper ab cramp (actually I was quite excited, meaning my abs are still strong enough to actually cramp), then push the baby down away from my ribs & take a big pregnancy breath to reassure you & your baby that everything is fine & you're going to run now.  Clearly, T1 and T2 were far more athletic events for me.

Well, there's still no 'pregnancy' category at the races (although, it did show up on the back of my race #), but I'm pretty sure that I'm winning them so far.  I can't help it.  Apparently being 33 weeks pregnant did not make me much less competitive than usual.  Nice to know that some things never change.  I like to win stuff.

Let's cut into some of the more memorable moments & dilemmas that I had going into this race.

1 week before the race, at the doctor's office, at week 32 check up time:

Me: "I'm doing a race next week"
Her: "Oh, you are?"
Me: "Yes, it's short.  It's for fun." (She understands my race history)
Her:"Ok."
(pause)
Her: "What is the likelihood of you, say, crashing your bike?"
Me: "Well, a lot less likely than when I cycle commute to work in traffic".
Her: Silently gives me the evil eye
Her: Then laughs, "Well, that's interesting logic".
Me: Series of explanations of closed course, riding on the right, getting passed is ok, I will watch the road for bumps. "I'll be fine".  My husband is at the appointment with me, & she is also his family doctor, so she seems to take some comfort in the fact Shawn will be at the race with me.
Her: "Well, at least you're riding with people who know what they're doing"
Me: I resist telling her that a lot of these people are monkeys on speed bananas when they're racing.
Her: "Be safe then, and good luck.  Have fun".
Me: I have the best doctor.

"I have confidence in confidence alone":

I was of unshakeable confidence the day before that visit.  Thought nothing of the race, just show up, swim a bit, bike and run & everything is fun.  I really didn't think too much about what could go wrong, or if I did, I certainly didn't embody any of the stress that comes along with worry.

But now I started to feel a little hesitant about the process.  Quite a few "what if's" popped into my head.  At the time, this was distressing.  Looking back, this was probably actually a great thing for me to have to work through.

The swim, "always floundering":

I went for my first open water swim of the year down at the beach the day before.  It was cold.  I did not like it.  Amazingly, my wetsuit fit (maybe Blue Seventy should start marketing it's suits to 'grow' with pregnant women...?), which was a relief.  But my body didn't really 'warm up' to the chill of the ocean and I envisioned some of my first triathlon experiences that largely involved panic attacks & feeling like my heart was going to burst out of my chest.  Now, on my own & responsible only for myself, I can handle high levels of stress in the water (read: My swim experience at Ironman St George, for example).  But I am now responsible for this little baby and it's well being.  It was a very heavy feeling.  Not a bad or good one, but a definite sense of duty to ensure that this baby comes first.  I would guess moms and dads already understand this.  And in essence, it sums up the entire race experience for me, but there was more confidence where there was less risk, certainly.  So the doctor's visit was a useful 'check-in' for me.

I also realized I was being a bit dramatic about the whole swim thing (consistent given my swim history), when I was pretty sure I saw a killer whale jump out in the ocean just off course.

It was probably a salmon.

So on race day, after a very pleasant warm up, I lined up at the back, tried to console the first time very nervous looking back of packers, "Hey, I'm doing this pregnant - you can definitely do it not pregnant", and very much enjoyed walking into the water last.  Or at least I was trying for dead last.  Some pokey girl with no wetsuit was last in (and can you blame her?).  I'll say, it's a much more pleasant start to go in last than first.  Why didn't I think of that a couple of years back....?

And lo and behold, I was totally fine & very comfortable in the swim.  It was a bit upsetting to be very relaxed & cognizant of other people at the back of the back, really struggling with swimming, floating on their backs, doing the panicked thrash about, gasping for air, and I really felt a pang of guilt that I should stop & reassure them that they'd be fine.  But there were boats out there for that, and I knew they would be fine (again, I've seen 'not fine' at other races like St George - there is a big difference).  So around the buoys I went, flying way off course with the current (which really was fun when you could care less about winning a race), and zipped back into shore.  And no one kicked me or my child.  Bonus.

T1, "Insert strange stares here":

Sandy run slog.  Wishing I had a sign that said, "Yes, I'm pregnant".  Noticing that I had sandy toes.  Very impressed that I could get the wetsuit off without a cramp or major baby ninja kick to the ribs usually causing a little bit of reflux (at best), or puke (it happens).

The bike, "The aerobars are still possible!":

Really, a cruise.  I was worried that the Spanish Banks hill would be tough on my ability to breathe, as the baby is up high enough that bent over, there isn't much room for diagphramatic excursion, and therefore, oxygen.  But I slowly pedalled up and everything was fine.

The turnaround merge thing that we had to do in the sprint though was a touch ridiculous & only because I could care less about time and went very cautiously, was it safe.  I let the speed bananas monkeys just blow on past before taking my appropro place on the road.

The 'no pass' zone was interesting because I was behind a woman who was behind a very young competitor (I believe he was 16), who was obviously not as fast as the train of people behind him.  But no pass is no pass, despite how much barking the asshats behind us did (can you read english fools?), we all slowed down & had a nice little cruise through the UBC suburbs.  Then, hilariously enough, said asshats who were so upset that they couldn't pass, passed in a great fury of gearing up and hammering down on pedals, only to accelerate for such a short period of time they appeared to gas themselves, and for sport, I repassed a bunch quite easily and was then ahead of them again in the next no pass zone.  They did less complaining this time :)

The downhill was my only true concern for the bike so I rode to the right & let people fly by, thinking to myself, crap, did I ride down the hill that fast last year?  Braking all the way down in my comfort zone, I was happy to pedal on the flats to get back to T2.  Anyone that passed me on an up or downhill was really right back there with me on the flats.

T2, "Unbuckle my shoe" (please, someone, do it for me):

I had my eye on an older gentleman that was peddling into T2 in front of me.  I thought, I could pass, but then I also thought, for what purpose?  So I let him go.  Good thing, because as he dismounted he also fell over, crashing two other women down (women who tried to pass him).  I skipped by the yardsale & went to rack my bike.

Then I got that dreaded ab cramp.  But with some straightening up & relaxed breathing, I was off to the races.  As in, I walked a few steps & decided running would be fine, then I ran past my major T2 cheering section, and ran out onto the course.  More familiar faces where out there, cheering & majorly supportive - my husband & his posse of massage therapists, Allan P, Clint L - thanks so much for your big smiles & shouts of encouragement!  It's nice to feel like you're still 'racing' even though you're not actually racing anyone but yourself.

The Run, "Bellies out":

Firstly, a woman blasted past me, and I realized, that's probably how people felt when I went past them last year (no lack of ego here).  And then I just settled into a rhythm of breathing (which is quite important for me at this stage to be able to run comfortably), and enjoyed the beautiful sunny day it was.

It was warm, which is something I've been quite careful with, so it wasn't long until the belly made an appearance from underneath my racing kit (ironically it was my national racing kit that was the only kit that 'fit' at this stage).  I don't think I've run with a shirt on, only a sports bra, for probably a month, maybe two.  It's hot, and I have a lot of belly surface area to cool off on, so I'm not suffering under a shirt for modesty's sake.  Besides which, I think it makes the message more clear - "pregnant runner".  Because that is what I am.

So up & around the hillier section of the course (I could have done with the flatter western section but c'est la vie) & back down around the park, I had fun - I even passed people!  Exhilarating.  (Who cares if they've bonked from doing the 1/2 Ironman....).  At 4km to go, running very conservatively I decided to speed up a bit.  Side note: I forgot to get a new battery for the heart rate monitor I have been wearing so I took it easier than usual after my doctor had asked me to now keep my heart rate around 170 or so for the last 7 weeks of pregnancy - only because I have been very comfortably training at lower than lactate threshold, or short speed intervals with it about 10 to 18 beats higher.  And before you freak out, please understand it was very easy for me to get my heart rate to 220+ in training....

So there were 3 guys right ahead of me and you know how impossible it is for me to resist passing them...and I was running with such comfortable effort that it really was fun to shift gears and sail by them (of course knowing that we had probably 500m left in the race).  A girls' gotta do what a girls' gotta do boys...

The finish, "Belly rubs are for dogs, people":

What can I say?  To see happy & smiling people (a lot of stranger smiles which is weird but kind of nice) - and familiar faces being supportive & encouraging was very uplifting to me.  It had erased any doubts that I had of myself before lining up for this race, any worries about criticisms or "I told you so's".  It also made me realize that it had been a while since I had lined up & faced some fears head-on. I had so many challenges last year that is almost became second nature to be tackling major fears, but this year has been a little quieter, and although of different challenges, not as many that made me feel uncomfortable & out of my element.  And getting through the process of racing this time was definitely a hurdle to overcome.

And my time wasn't too shabby either.  1:19:05, which is only 4 minutes slower than the triathlon I did at 26 weeks (which is a bit incomparable with it it being a pool swim & a flat bike), and still only 17 minutes slower than my one and only fastest attempt at the Sprint distance at 1:02.  More surprisingly (as I wasn't fussed about time) was that I ran a comfortable 21:52 5km!  As I run these days, I just feel like I am going slow as molasses, which I don't mind because I'm happy to still be able to run at 34 weeks, but I really didn't think I could run that fast (although maybe the course was short - but I'd be the only person to admit it I'm sure).  I finished exactly 100th OA, I think 9th in my AG, and in the top 25 women.  Pretty darn good for 33 weeks pregnant.

Where to from here?

Now at 34 weeks pregnant, I've decided I am now officially retiring from racing - until the baby is born.  It will probably take me longer to get back to racing postpartum than it will be relative to pre-partum!  I think I can be happy with jogging along (I decidedly gave up 'speedwork' at 32 weeks as my knees and pelvis were starting to complain quite loudly), cruising around on my bike & swimming like it's a perennial recovery day at Kits pool for the next 6 weeks.

I have finished work & am now off until this baby arrives, which means I get so much free time that I never had before.  It is so nice.  I had a pretty busy work schedule with working full time & commuting back and forth to Vancouver Island on a near weekly basis to work, that being able to just do nothing is a pure joy.  Mind you, my nothing might be different than other people's nothing, but it's nice to have the down time.  I am becoming increasingly proficient in napping, and luckily, the ability to be home & on my own food schedule has helped settle my awful, awful experiences with acid reflux, which was affecting me quite negatively for the last 2 months.

Again, I have nothing but great things to say about everyone that has been so supportive & encouraging about my desire to want to continue to remain active throughout my pregnancy.  I don't know how anyone would do it any other way, but that's my bias & I'm fully respectful to everyone finding their own path.  It is an amazing learning experience about your body, and it has been much more rewarding than I ever thought it could be.

I still have this inkling, as I continue to go out & train, that I'm still training for a big 'race' that will happen sometime around the end of August.  I still have that feeling like I'm prepping my body & my mind for something tougher & more challenging coming up.  As with every race I did, the stakes were raised & the pressure was greater, and it really is very similar in that sense with awaiting this labour & delivery.  I find it such a fascinating process, and I am honestly very excited to see what this is all about.  Sure, some people may read this & think I'm crazy, but if you haven't figured out by now that these are the type of things that I live for, then you probably don't know me very well.

I've cried in an Ironman (into my goggles for anonymity), I've bled & oozed things, I've peed myself & most certainly have pooped painful rocks, I've torn things & have been absolutely stand still racked with pain and at times, questioned if the lights were going to go out on me.  So, not saying I have this down pat, but those were some of my best memories of doing the sport that I love.  And why wouldn't I face this next challenge head on with my hands full of confidence that I am going to do great?  Makes sense to me, so that's what I'm going with.

So thank you for reading, and hopefully it gives some light into what my experience was like, and even more so, hopefully it inspires those that didn't think it was possible, or wanted to try for themselves to achieve things that aren't mainstream.  I still maintain that in the future we will see a 'pregnant' category at the races, even if Tri-BC hasn't made one yet :)

Happy summer training everyone - see you out there - I will be easy to spot :)

34 wks

My 1st pregnant race report! The Comox Tri-K Sprint Triathlon, or "Aero-bellies unite"

What an interesting weekend I just had!  You may or may not be caught up to the fact that I did my first 'race' in pregnancy, this past weekend at the Shoreline Orthodontics Comox Valley Tri-K Triathlon.  A big thanks also to Triathlon BC, who supported a pre-race expo with the Comox Valley Triathlon club.  I was delighted to be invited & to speak on all things triathlon on Saturday, a well attended event with a lot of great positive feedback!  I'll post some photos at the end of the expo & the other great guest speakers!

First off, this is what a 26 week pregnant person at a triathlon looks like.  You may have not seen one of these before.

Comox Valley Sprint Triathlon @ 26 weeks pregnant

 Yes, I am pregnant.  Yes, I raced.  Yes, there were some funny sideways looks.  And yes, someone told me to please not deliver the baby on the bike course.  (I don't think being aero qualifies as a good labour position anyways).

 I'm 26 weeks pregnant & change.  My baby is now likened to the length of a cucumber (we're past citrus fruits - yeah! mostly an inside pregnant woman's joke really....), and almost 2 lbs.  I am, however, significantly bigger than the date of my last triathlon, Ironman Canada.  I don't weigh myself at home, but last check up at the doc's office had me in around 22 or so lbs heavier. Our kid kicks & moves around, and I think is learning how to mimic riding a bicycle in utero, based on the number of times I get bumped in the ribs these days.  I would love to be able to see right through my stomach & see what he or she is doing, but I'll have to wait until it comes out.  For now, I'm very happy that it is safe & sound exactly where it is.

 So back to the race.  Why did I do this?  Good question.

 I've thought about that a lot myself.  The long & short of it is, I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it.  Why?  Because this is a huge part of my life & my identity & the core of what makes me tick.  It makes me happy.  I know we're beyond pregnancy as a 'condition' or 'situation' in this world, but I'm not sure we're quite up to speed (literally) in the world of 'what can a pregnant woman do'?

This, apparently.

Courtesy of Vancouver Island Photography

 The only point of contention was the bike.  Was I a little nervous about the bike course?  Yes.  So why did I decide to do it?  I have had no hesitancy about being on a bicycle at this point or at any point so far in my pregnancy.  Am I careful when riding?  Yes.  But I have always been, & so being careful doesn't make me scared, and therefore I feel quite comfortable.  Surely though, in a race course, you take on the risk of the 'other'.  The 'other' cyclist who may bump into you by mistake causing a crash was really my only fear.  But the course was flat, straight & had lots of room, so my fears were quashed by a bit of course recon.

 And one would ask - why do anything you're afraid to do?  To which as general rules apply, we would all say, 'because it helps you overcome insecurity & doubt', 'builds confidence & strength', and 'sets an example for yourself & others'.  To me, being pregnant does not make these reasons any less important, and in the case that I would state that pregnancy actually makes you stronger and is a better time than ever to serve as a role model, why wouldn't you take on important challenges in life?  And that is why I did what I did, and signed up for a sprint triathlon.

 If you thinking, yeah well, this signing up for a race thing when you're pregnant really isn't that big of a deal, then you've obviously never been a pregnant woman who is constantly questioned on her daily activities of athleticism.  It has been a challenge to get to this point in my pregnancy, while swimming, biking, & running in the 'best' possible way I can.  In my case, it is what is 'best' that I find the most interesting.

 As I have mentioned before, I have been very lucky to have a great medical support team that has been supportive & forward thinking in terms of athletics & pregnancy.  That said, there is only so much they can do & say, and then you, the woman, is left alone to make her own decisions about what is 'best' for her & the developing fetus.  Now this conversation can go on for miles, but I'll tell you what I thought was best.  Doing the race.  I could go on for ever on this topic, which I might in another instalment of a blog, but I'm more tri focused today :)

So let me break down for you the fun & somewhat funny experiences I had in the Comox Sprint Tri this past weekend!

The swim:  500m (9:19).  Minimum 19 seconds spent getting out of hot 25 m short course pool.  4th fastest swim time!

Now, this was a new experience.  A pool start 500m swim.  Staggered start, and I got to share a lane with the two fastest boy swimmers in the race.  Good for drafting for 5 seconds I guess.  I did wonder what might have been going through the guys' minds at this point.

Prior to the start of the swim, I got to stand around chatting with friends in my avant guard sports bra & very tight shorts combo (because not much else in my triathlon kit selection fits) and get some seriously funny looks from families on the sidelines.  In my heat, I got a few "Impressive!''s from the other men racing near me, and I made some funny jokes like "If you kick me in the stomach when passing, I'll totally clock you, haha...." followed by making direct eye contact that meant I'm not actually joking and that wouldn't be my first fist underwater, "haha".

Start of swim with friend Sophia, the 'team' behind Active Living Physiotherapy!

Then we were off.  And I found out swimming in a sports bra is like swimming with those parachutes behind you.  But I'm all for increasing my resistance in training these days (read: weight gain), so that was terrific.  After 500 m of swimming in a pool which likely had a temperature of 26 degrees C, a bit too hot for someone with a built in heater to feel 'great' in, I faced my biggest challenge of the whole triathlon.  Getting out of the pool.

As we were getting out from the deep end (read: no floor to jump up of), and a general softening of my triceps (not entirely my fault as hormones are somewhat to blame), it was not the most graceful performance.  It did initially get some feeble cheers of "Good for you, you can do it", until I stood up & revealed my soccer-ball shaped stomach in which cheers because more robust in the form of "AWESOME!! Way to go girl! Go Gillian" (who knows me there anyways? - oh right, swim organizer & Canadian Olympic Bronze medallist women's 4x100 medley in Montreal's Susan Sloan who I had the pleasure of meeting the day before at the Tri-K Expo).  So awesome.  I will eventually be knocking down the door of that woman to become my swim mentor.  Anyway, that really was the most strenuous thing I had to tackle, and even that wasn't so bad.

T1: (2:49)

After a bit of walk/running out of the pool (I thought to myself, you shouldn't run on a pool deck, those are the rules), I jogged down to the T1 area, letting (gulp) a couple men pass me.  Don't worry, they get passed later.  My Dad was there to remind me to 'take it easy', to which I tell him I AM running easy.  He then offers to take my goggles & cap.  I instantly think, no, that's outside assistance & carry them into my T1 area with me.  Some habits die hard.

Courtesy of Vancouver Island Photography

If getting out of the pool was the hardest thing I did, transitions were certainly the thing I had to take the most time with.  You swallow a soccer ball then try to put on your shoes.  It ain't easy folks.  It's a bit of a round the stomach side bend manoeuvre which can sometimes cause a bit of discomfort, so you have to take it easy.  So I did.  Then I had to put on my heart rate monitor (thanks Kelsey!), then I had to put on my tri top (I actually had one that fit!), then my Dad's helmet (fitted accordingly), my recently glued together bike shoes (they were in rough shape), and off I went on my old faithful road bike.  I smiled when I saw the glimmer of that little silver sticker on my stem that you get when you go to the Ironman World Championships.  It was a nice reminder that this bike had served me well over the years, and I was happy to be reunited with it.

Then insert the "please don't deliver your baby on the bike course" comment.  I really didn't think I looked that pregnant.  I don't feel 'that' pregnant, but alas, people are noticing (which is a good thing!).
Up to the mount line & on with my flying squirrel mount.  Ha, no.

Bike: (20km in 36:21.  2nd fastest bike time!)
Having a trusty HR monitor, was able to see where I was right away, which was my usual high heart rate.  So, it is a nice reminder to just take it easy & adjust to the bike.  I hadn't really tried out my aerobars in a while, but after seeing how straight the course was, and the fact the wind was a bit in our face (and being all for minimizing work output), I tucked into aero and was surprised to find it was better than sitting upright in the drops.  Score!

So off I went, cycling comfortably and passing a few people along the way.  A few men reminded me to 'remember to have fun' and/or 'make sure to take it easy', to which I was both grateful for and also a bit humoured by, as I really wanted to reply, "actually, thanks, I am taking it easy (whilst passing you)".  But this is a fun race & all I was interested in was having fun.  And I was!

Quite an uneventful cycle after I passed a number of people & then had no one really in front of me (we start staggered so you really never know who's ahead, who's behind) and I cycled back into town.  I dutifully took lots of little sips from my bottle of trusty sports drink, thinking I was probably the only person to be doing so.  Also probably the only person to get instantaneous reflux from said yellow sports drink but luckily that is nothing new and at least I felt like I had good reason to.  Got hit by one huge bumble bee right off the nose, and another off the arm, but quite a comfortable ride.

Dismounting off the bike was a little tender, I must say, and I'm pretty sure I said to myself "let's go belly" as I was groaning a bit getting my leg over the back of my bike.  But then again, I'm not sure it was any less graceful than any other dismount I've done.

T2:  (1:49 - key note: both 60-69 year old females were faster than me in this category)
Again, Dad was there reminding me again to take it easy.  I make jokes that I got hit in the nose with a bumblebee (honestly, it was big & hurt a bit) to alleviate any of this concerns.  As in, I didn't have my killler 'game face' thrash through transition look.

And then back to the shoes.  Oh, the annoyance of having to switch bike shoes for socks & running shoes.  That took a while and I was in no rush.  Really one of my only fears was getting a side stitch in transition with all the bending & shifting around of a kid in my stomach.  But as I walked out a bit into the run, nothing was bothering me so I took up a pony trot, and all was fine (I do not start my runs in a blaze of glory these days, although there are 30 second intervals occasionally which would impress most lookers-on).  And off to the run I went.

Courtesy of Vancouver Island Photography

Run: (5km trail in 25:39)
Just because you're pregnant & taking it easy doesn't mean you all of a sudden do not feel like you have triathlon legs on the run, I found out.  I have been feeling great on most of my runs, and all of a sudden I had that old familiar feeling back of "aha - you just swam & biked".  And I loved it.  So, with HR monitor in check, I ran comfortably for the first 1-2km of the run, then when things felt easier, I was able to smooth out my running (a constant challenge with a daily growing bump) & get into a nice rhythm for the next 3 km.  We had a lovely shaded trail section (although a bit muddy in parts which I took care to not slip n' slide through losing any precious ankle ligaments I have working for me at the moment), and back up to the track where we finished with all sorts of cheers & supporters, balloons & announcers!

Total Time: 1:15:57

It was SO FUN.

Courtesy of Vancouver Island Photography

I LOVED IT.

There is no other way to express than by abusing the caps-lock button.  But it's true.  It was so fun, to be out there, enjoying myself on a sunny day, feeling great, cheering on others, having others cheer on me (to the volunteer who once realizing I was pregnant, starting shouting "awesome girl, you're PACKIN', she's PACKIN' everybody....woooo go Momma!")

And I would be lying if it wasn't great to stop & chat with community spectators, volunteers, race directors, Tri-BC officials &  sponsors of the race after and feel both thankful for all the work they did and just plain great about what I was able to accomplish.

Of course, it was fun to peel through the race results I see where I ended up, a 4th place overall & a 2nd in my age group was terrific & fun to see!  Especially on a course where you're not competing head to head, and I was only really competing against myself.  Although I feel confident in claiming the overall winner of the 'pregnancy' category.

I know I joke, but it does make me wonder if there will ever be a 'pregnancy' division in the future of racing or not.  Time will tell, but I have a suspicion it just might appear.

So a huge thank you to everyone involved, to those that supported me, to those that challenged me, and hopefully to those who paid attention to the fact that athletics is important in pregnancy, and important to women who have lives entwined in sport & can never be separated from such.  I feel lucky to be who I am and where I am at this point in time in my life.  It is a pretty neat time to be me.

Now, without delay & to wrap up, some photos from the fantastic Tri-K expo held on Saturday.  I had the pleasure of meeting ITU superstar Matt Sharpe, and overly accomplished triathlete Kelly Guest as part of the guest speaker series.  It was really great to connect with other people with the same local roots & get to hear about what they're up to in the triathlon world.  Pretty darn neat!

Me, Kelly & Matt @ the Expo

Me chatting at the expo about my roots in sport.  Also, looking pregnant - a news flash to me!  Now I get the funny looks..... 

Start Spreading The News!

As promised, a blog about big news!

I have been out of writing not because I was busy or bored, but because I hit an interesting point where I could not write about what was going on.  And when you have big news, you just want to get it out there.  I've lived my life more publicly last year than I ever have in my entire life.  To now be deeply set within my own circle & a bit closed off from the world was quite a change.  In all honesty, I noticed but never really minded - I was quite preoccupied with what was going on anyway.  Triatha-what?

With that, some of my readers will already know exactly what I'm going to write about next.  But some won't, so, that's why I'm writing this.  So let me tell you a little about what life has been like in the last 4 months.

Christmas time:
Ski with friends.  Feel like they're on perfect snow and you're in tar-laced quicksand.  Blame your wax.
Start skiing on your own because you feel the need to start training intensely to ramp up your fitness.
Stop in the middle of your xc ski run and realize you just can't get enough oxygen in.  Then see stars.
Bonk every time you ski - have one good ski, then 3 dreadful ones.
End up so wrecked on one ski that when you come home, you wallop down water and then have a 30 min nap in the sauna - with your sweatpants & a toque on.
Assume this is normal.  Also assume you are not training enough and this is the consequence.

January:
Return to run with friends.  Get your butt kicked on an interval run, end up cramped & doubled over.
Really assume you are out of shape.
Listen to a friend's sage advice, wonder if she's right.

January, next day:
Take this test & get this result.

Go to work in complete daze.  

Try not to get hit on your bike.

January, two days later:

Take this test & get this result.

Realize this test might not be wrong, but assume it is.  

Make doctors appointment for tomorrow.

January, three days later:

Have a chat with your doctor, explain you've been short of breath and training is quite 'off'.

Oh, and you took two of the above tests and that they were both positive.

Then assume stunned look, as in the 'what do I do now' look.

Doctor smiles.  Wait for doctor to ask you if you want to do another one to make sure.

Because you're unsure in your ability to operate such a scientific procedure, you say "yes".

Give a urine sample.  Wonder how in the world urine became your new life predictor.

Get this test back: (yes, each test I took was different for the lack of trust in one brand factor)

Finally take a deep breath & realize you're pregnant.

January, three days & 30 minutes later:

Intercept husband just as he is coming to visit the same doctor.

Think you're going to freak him out.

Tell husband you're pregnant.

Observe husband's happy, semi-calm, shocked & excited response.

Feel what it feels like to be in a totally above the clouds moment in life.

Now, I'm not going to recollect every living moment since then, but I do want to talk about what has been important to me over the past few months of a totally new life experience.

Months 1-3 can really be summed up as follows:  soul-crushing tiredness with a reflux-nausea combo that lasts all day.  And no, this is not an exaggeration.  The tiredness is so frustrating & inescapable.  The nausea the same.  You do feel better that you weren't just getting steadily unfit while training hard.   

One of the greatest gifts of all is that you find out your best friend is pregnant, and you are 4 weeks apart in due dates.  The ability to finally talk to someone apart from your partner is a dream come true - you have so many things to say, questions, complaints, things to laugh about, and you get to share them with your best friend.  A small miracle.

Then you start to change shape.  Hm.  I think in general you're just supposed to accept your body changes (there are many) and love them.  Well, I did not initially.  For some one in what I would call 'reasonably good shape', it's a bit weird to not have that in your control anymore.  Now, I was still running (as long as I didn't give up and just lay on the coach flattened after work), swimming & biking at a much reduced intensity (mostly b/c I felt I was going to chuck my cookies on a minute-ly basis) but getting bigger, and softer - very weird.  Note: I actually never chucked anything, until I got a noro-virus.

Now if we fast forward to now, just about everything gets better.  You can eat salad again.  You can make it past 7pm before going to bed.  You can feel good for a whole day. Even your pee breaks on your runs get better.  That said, you have to pee 3 times before even leaving the house to run.  And that's considered 'success'. 

I have been followed & advised by a great medical team who has allowed me to continue living the life that brings me the life rewards I'm so familiar with.  After the first trimester, when I was feeling better and less anxious about the fragility of life, I was able to discuss increasing effort of exercise in pregnancy with my doctor.  And mostly what I found out is very little is actually known on what is safe and not safe in pregnancy.  It is an ethical issue.  Basically, you can't ask pregnant women to put their embryos/fetuses at risk.  

So, there is a lot we don't know.  And there are a lot of misconceptions about what is safe & not safe.  And I'm not here to tell people what to do, because I firmly believe every person has to make these decisions for themselves.  But what we found is that because my baseline fitness pre-pregnancy was quite high, as long as I wasn't increasing my training, and followed a few parameters with a heads up for listening to signs of your body needing to slow down or stop.  So without too much explanation, my parameters for those who are curious (and something I think more women athletes should know more about) were as follows: follow a 'lactate threshold" or less effort for ventilation, pay attention to heart rate but know that even 81% of max has been studied & considered safe in gold standard research, pay attention to hydration & blood sugar needs (my doctor knows my history with occasional bonks in training), and interestingly, above all in terms of importance - do not overheat while training.  But there are no rules - these are my choices.

I was able to go back to running fast - after 3 months of slow 10-12 km runs, doing 1 minute pick ups was exhilarating.  Never mind the fact my hip & SI joints felt like the Tin Man in the Wizard of Oz.  But the more I did them (which was now dictated by 'do I feel like it'?), the better they felt.  I was able to start doing tempo runs again.  Was it a little hard that my new 'hard' pace was probably at my old marathon pace?  You bet.  But your mindset starts to shift as you progress in pregnancy.  I went from being hard on myself for being so slow (maybe I was still in semi-denial about the pregnancy), to starting to be proud of myself for getting out and running when it felt hard, running through some of the aches & pains.  I still think the longest run I've done is around 18km (and left me with fierce chafing of my new found chub rub :) - but it was worth it.  I felt tough again.  I was me again.  Just a new kind of me.

And now, this new me has this little tiny human growing at an astonishing rate.  We've just reached a milestone where we can feel (and see) it kick.  It's an amazing feeling.  And let the unnecessary bragging about your child start - it is an active baby!  It makes me feel sad for anyone who doesn't get to feel this feeling.  Mind you, I definitely feel I deserve it after putting in the hard miles for the first few months.  

I have a belly, whether it is tiny or otherwise it's hard to say - but to me, it's a dramatic change.  Some days I walk around and am transported into my old body, the one I knew so well, the one I had a very strong bond with, and then I'm surprised to look down or into a mirror & realize I'm different.  The nice thing is, I only feel like I'm getting stronger.  And tougher.  If I can train with the tiny human weighing me down in the 20lb+ category, with about half of the lung volume available to me, with constant aches, while constantly needing to pee, and being unable to race & rediscovering how much you truly miss the sport you just got started in, it makes me excited for my future. 

More than anything, I'm excited for this tiny human to grow & maintain a healthy pregnancy.  And if I can sit with myself & enjoy feeling these tiny kicks & get more excited about that than running, that's growth for myself as well.  The nice thing about pregnancy is that your baby is not the only one growing.

So if you see me running out on the roads or trails, don't be surprised if I look like I'm carrying home a cantaloupe home from the produce store.  And for interest's sake, I'll give you a snap shot of 3 weeks of pregnancy.  Not that I have been one to flaunt my abs, so what the heck, here they are in stretched out only to be stretched out more version.  You're going to see it when I hit Kits pool in a month or so anyways :)

 18 weeks

19 weeks 

20 weeks

So there's my little bump that accompanies me on my runs, my swims & rides.  They come to sleep with me, work with me, goes for rides on the seaplane with me and eats all my food (I think).

And there's the update, the breaking of the silence after so many months.  It has been great to be able to talk about it with my friends & family and feel so supported from all the people I care about.  It's especially nice to have the support & mentorship from so many amazing athlete moms as well - I feel so  lucky to be surrounded by such a positive environment.  

From here, it's full speed ahead learning and growing in more ways than one.  Stay tuned for updates :)

And one last thing - the irony is in the due date.  Initially set for Sept 1st, it was hinted to me that perhaps the tiny human and I are a few days ahead of schedule - which would land me pretty close to, oh, say a day like August 25th.  And what else is happening that day?  Oh, just a little 'Challenge' and an 'Ironman'.  It would seem appropriate to line up for another endurance event that day.  A theme of "9 hours and 46 minutes or less"?

Time will tell :)

Mount Washington Blog Post #4: Snow to Surf is Coming!

This race is one of 'those' races.  It's the kind you can sit back & reminisce with friends for years to come.  It has a great sense of team spirit about it, and show cases some of the best sports on the island.  If you haven't done it yet, it's time to start planning a team.  I'll be there next year - and happy to start taking names of who wants on my team!
And p.s., I'll make sure we're Powered by Chocolate Milk!

SNOW TO SURF IS COMING!

23 April 2013

It's almost that time of year again - a bittersweet time. It's almost end of ski season - and nearing the legendary Snow to Surf Race.

Many of you that read this blog will know what this race is about. Many of you will have participated in one leg or the other. And if you're smart - you've never done the run leg. I have had the honour to do this race 2 times in my lifetime so far, and I guarantee I'll have done it 20+ times by the time I'm too old to do any of the legs of the race. I was even part of the "Turf to Surf" one year, and the other the 25th Anniversary race - both superb!

If you have NEVER heard of this race (where have you been hiding?!), let me summarize. My last time in the race was done as a 'missing members' (not a full squad so some people had to do 2 legs of the race) and was done as a family team - so we were very proud of our day at Snow to Surf - and unbelievably - we won our category! This by far was one of the best races I've ever done on Vancouver Island. And the chocolate medals from Courtenay's Hot Chocolates are amazing!

Here is how it starts. Someone who wants to feel a complete & utter absolute burning of the legs tears up hill in ski boots (how far - far enough to wish you had signed up for the run leg) and then whips down the mountain while trying to feel any sense of legs underneath them. Then, the relay is passed onto a XC skier - this is where I feel the race really shines in it's elite bank of XC skiers. So, you're likely to be passed by men & women much older (& smaller) than you. It's ok - you have many stages to go! Our friend and ex olympian swimmer took on both those legs - like a fish out of water he was (he learned to XC ski the day before), but such a good sport.

Next up, I now hear, is a snowshoe relay to replace one of the run legs. Smart move, Mt Washington. What a great idea to showcase the sport - of which there are races hosted up on Mt Washington, so it's guaranteed to bring some speedsters to that leg.

After that - it's the dreaded run leg. I think it's best reserved for someone that has never done it and considers themselves a good runner. And they will do well - no doubt. They will just wonder why they can't reach the toilet without climbing their hands down the walls beside it after. Pain is temporary - pride is forever! (Ironically getting to the toilet is all pain, no pride, however). Now when we did the race, it was a double run leg, of 17km straight down the mountain, and that was my double segment. Great at the time, and then I couldn't face running downhill for a month afterwards. (Also, see toilet commentary).

Onward, you pass to the mountain biker. It sounds like a heck of a lot of fun - I want to do that someday! From mountain biker to kayaker is a flurry of transitions and off across the lake goes your teammate (in my case, my brother did the double mountain bike-kayak combo - which was a little tricky as he beat us with his mountain bike before we got the kayak to the lake (there are logistics in this race beyond the athletic - which I suppose means we were big on muscle, short on brains). So, after him tromping around in a fury that his kayak wasn't there - we carried it into the water while he jumped in and madly paddled across the lake. Making him mad made him paddle faster, so it was actually a good tactic.

Next up - the road bike. This my (now) husband did with style. My brother & I, along with the ex-olympian, could be called 'ridiculously competitive'. So as we were yelling profanities to said (now) husband, he bravely tromped on with the bike course. Now, unfortunately, he did have a crash with someone part way through - the only damage being the woman involved in said crash was more concerned her bike was ok than she was - and obviously she was fine, as she zoomed past my husband and chicked him to the high hills.

From the bike finish, comes the final transition to the canoe leg. This my Dad & his partner participated in. To set up the 'seriousness' scale of the canoe participants, my Dad did ask the race director if he could take his dog in the canoe with him (director: "no"). So you get a sense of the juxtaposition of competitiveness here. I'm not sure if they packed a picnic for the paddle or not.

In any case, as we sped (unnecessarily really) to the finish line, Shawn (husband) rode on and cheered (actually he yelled at them to pick up the pace) the canoeists along the bay shore. As my Dad & Linda approached, I have a fond memory of one of the 'serious' canoe boats (wrapped up so no water would get in and all muscle & grit upon their faces) just passed our boat happily paddling away (probably looking at birds) only to dump meters before the finish line. Suckers. Not that I'm competitive or anything.

Finally, a race up and out of the boat went Linda, as we watched her run past the finish bell (you must ring it) completely, and she ran on through the parking lot to who knows where. Well, Linda knew where, as she had done this race 25 years ago (it was the 25th anniversary), and the bell was further back in the lot then. But, turned around she came back & rang the bell as it tolls, and we had completed our mission.

A long story, but a fun one. I could relive this race a thousand times and end up in tears of laughter remembering parts along the way (except the end of my legs after the run, that is just straight tears, no laughter). So I highly encourage you to participate, watch, support, drive the gear around, or just come down to the finish line & hang out in the after-party area to hear such stories of tenacity & hilarity.

I can't wait to do it again, and although it will have to wait for me this year, it won't for next year - so it's time to start planning my team!

Anyone want to do the run leg?

Mount Washington Blog #3: A tale of two cities

Hi Everyone - March's Mount Washington Blog is up & running!  The theme - what's in a smile?

Thanks for following along AND...check out the other Mt Washinton blogs at: http://www.mountwashington.ca/mount-washington-blog.html

A TALE OF TWO CITIES

27 March 2013

I was out on the nordic trails recently, cruising on my skis, taking my time, poking around a lovely trail called "Far East". Now I'm not great with directions, but I'm pretty sure it heads east. As you come to the turnaround point in the trail you capture a breathtaking vista of snow-filled hills backed by the Johnstone Strait behind it, with the Coast Mountains dusted in snow snugged up at the end of your sight line. It's gorgeous. Something to smile about.

This day though, a rolling series of clouds were coming through and you couldn't see the vista. Fair enough, I've seen it many times & it will be there again. Interestingly though, I noticed, people were still full of smiles every time I passed them on the trails. Now, if all you ever did in your life was cross country ski, I suppose you would think this is normal. I'm here to tell you this is actually something pretty special.

I'm an endurance athlete. I spend a lot of time training and this means I spend a lot of time encountering other people coming in the other direction. Where I live, it would be shocking if someone said hello to you (sometimes people I actually know are too 'in the zone' to recognize & acknowledge each other - and to be fair, I've been guilty of this too). And there's a place for that - when you are training so hard you are using every useful braincell of yours to maintain upright stance & not run into any innocent bystanders, I think you have a pass.

But there are a lot of people that just never acknowledge each other, period. And when I found this abrasive at first, eventually you sink into the pattern, because it's disheartening to always be saying hello only to receive silence in return. But today, and so many other days I've had up the mountain, de rigour is to smile, say hello, make a witty joke about how you meant to stick that pole between your legs so that you would have a chance to practice face planting, etc. It's nice - and it's contagious - once you start, you want to do it more - make more people smile. It's just downright fun.

And if you occasionally end up oxygen deprived, seeing a blur of stars or just wishing you would fall so that you could like down on the nice, cool track, I think it's also fair game for those who can spare the oxygen to speak, to have free commentary, all in good humour. I often reach the top of hills with my great friends that I ski with, only to have them chat about how lovely the view is & how terrific life is, while I hold onto my poles for dear life as I hang over them gasping for air. I love that they're still happily chatting while I'm searching for oxygen.

And if you want to run into some really friendly people, then you have to meet some of the Hosts that patrol & encourage all the nordic skiers in and around many trails at Mount Washington. They are terrific people & they're there to make your day better - so do say hello. You may not have even known that they exist - but they do! And I'm sure they're willing to impart advice on anything you'd like to ask them about (hint hint: I'd ask them about your ski technique as they are great skiers themselves!). They're there to make you smile.

There's a theme here. Miles of smiles.