Goodlife Victoria Marathon 2012 Race Report, or, the "I have a good life 2012 rest report"

So, I've been lazy on the writing - but it reflects how I've been going about everything lately - taking my time, finally slowing down.  Giving my body & brain a break.

A few things have passed by since I last wrote.  Let me touch on the one competitive thing I did - the Goodlife Victoria Marathon on Thanksgiving weekend.

What a day - absolutely perfect weather and great friends to run with.  Did I have a perfect race?  Nope :)  I knew going into this race that psychologically I was on low stock.  I had just enough to get me through to a PB, but couldn't reach beyond that, as there was nothing there.  No big deal.  I ran to my fitness & used whatever I had left over in 'tough girl' stock.  That got me to a 2:53:41.  4th place.  Juuuuust out of the money.  But 3 faster girls were definitely more deserving.  Good on those gals.  I did receive 3rd place prizing as this race also served as the BC Marathon Championships.  Thanks to BC Athletics!  It pays to be a member :)

The best thing about the race?  I was given a brand new pair of New Balance 1400's.  And where did those come from?  Ladysport.  What a treat!  After going through pair # 4 of my 1400s during the tri season, they were looking a bit thrashed and a little....well....let's just say it.  Stinky.

freshest on top. pair #4 too dirty to be let in living room.

 I love these shoes and wear them into the ground b/c I want to keep wearing them forever (and ever!).  So, luckily for me, owner Phil Moore at LadySport came to the rescue in delivering a brand new pair into my hands.  And I didn't even have to take the 'normal' shoes laces out of them for elastic tri dork laces.  Real laces - what a luxury!  A huge thank you to Ladysport for connecting me to New Balance & ensuring my feet will be wrapped up in their favourite outerwear.

so fresh and so clean

 So even though I was trying for slightly faster than achieved times on marathon Sunday, my feet where treated to the luxury of springy, fast new shoes.  Any runner knows how great that feels.  In the same vein, I was able to pop into LadySport as a guest speaker before one of their Monday run clinics after the marathon to say thank you to Ladysport and chat a bit about my experiences over the last year in triathlon - fun! 

 Mostly I think I told stories about crazy triathlon experiences (ie. Ironman St George), and how things can come good in the end if you stick with it (ie. Ironman Canada), but also to let people know that I think inspiration is most directly sourced from those right around you.  I used to be in total shock if someone was a 'pro' and very intimidated, but now I'm realizing that there really is no difference, at least not in the way I thought there was, and that it's nice to see what these people do day to day, in workouts, or in their rest & recreation time.  I never thought I would be at this level of athletics, but I always dreamed of getting there.

first triathlon completed.  i wouldn't have done it unless my friend Blair had suffered along with me. did the osooyos 1/2 in just under 6 hrs! and was still almost last out of the water :) blair suffered a little longer.

 One of my missions now is to help people bridge the gap - so, if you have questions about moving up in the sporting world, I'm your gal to ask (ah, please no questions about archery or water polo though...).  And chances are, you already know what you would need to do to get there, you just need someone to bounce questions off to find about the confidence & psychological gap - which can be the hardest of all, I think.

 Back to the newsy catch up.  I ran a little ditty of a marathon.  And I beat Carl again.  Sorry Carl.  Oh and Chris.  I beat Chris too.  What I love about the marathon, Ironman, endurance sports, is that what works out on paper is not an accurate predictor of the outcome.  The longer the race, the more variables, and the longer time out there for something to go nut-bar.

 In fact, my race went out with me struggling with feeling comfortable at 18km (you cannot be struggling at this point - the body just does not hold out for you), and having to drop off pace and watch the boys run away from me.  Insert sad face here.  But, I had a race for myself to figure out, so, after about 5km of feeling a bit 'off', I started to come back to form (not really sure what my pace was but I did notice nothing was in the 3:5x market), and start knocking off some girls.  All 2 of them.  But wait, just wait.....

One of them was a Kenyan.

Add that to the 'things that lift your spirits' list.  Especially when you lost your friends and you're hoping your recently sprained ankle that now feels super wobbly is going to stay glued together like the kindergarten popsicle & wood glue project that it is.

So I passed a Kenyan, stayed upright, and then, I found my friends!  Woah, wait, that's actually not a great thing (for my friends - who are boys).  I saw a very familiar singlet up ahead - grey.  Chris.  Slowing down but moving forward.  Honestly, no lies here, I really like passing guys, so, this was a qualifying pass.  Then I saw the most familiar singlet of all - black.  Carl.  Carl, you'll read this, and enough time has now passed for me to say, as much as I was sad for you that you suffered in the end of the race, I was delighted to pass you in those last kilometres.  Now, I wish you hadn't actually been standing, cramp/stretching and actually shouting out something that sounded like maybe it would not be for your children's ears, but, I'll take an ugly 'you got chicked' moment, because in the end, getting chicked is getting chicked.

Plus, I was wearing said "You Got Chicked" singlet & running skirt, and Compressport pink socks.  Score one for the girls.

chicks. dig it.

Enough of this.  So, that was the marathon, and the icing on the cake of a high I really hadn't come down from yet after Ironman Canada.  Plus it was Thanksgiving, & that meant I got to spend time with family & friends, and...eat!

So as I've mentioned previously, I've raced a lot through the year, and a few things have caught up to me.   I'm fortunate enough to have a few injuries and fatigue come at the most perfect moment of the year - the off-season.  It never fails to amaze me the amount of fatigue athletes can carry through the season, and how long it can take to get back to feeling strong.  And I wasn't really even injured (well, I could make a short list...but nothing serious).  But I did turn out everything I had to give between my toes (yes, some of them are black) to the hair on my head (I did manage to rip out a chunk attached to an aero helmet), and everything in between in 2012.

I'm perfectly content with my efforts.  It's a nice feeling.  And I think it's that feeling that has allowed me to finally step back and say, "ok, it's ok to stop".  Now the whole point of saying it's ok to finally fully allow myself to stop, I only do because I know I want to come back faster, stronger, and fiercely focused.  If I wasn't wanting to come back with great ambitions, I wouldn't worry about disciplining myself now to hold myself back and begin a new building process.

And what has happened since giving my body a break?  Everything hurts more.  That has been a little scary, for lack of a better word, at first.  But it points me down a path of very straightforward explanations and answers.  Strength.  Stability.  Form.  Power.  Energy.  No point in moving forward until I have built a solid platform to move forward from.  As tempting as it is to roll on from one race to another in hopes of finding that perfect performance, that perfect moment, I now think it's time to see the perfection in building a stronger body, the perfection in sleep, the perfection in exercising to technique.

That's my upcoming job for the next little while.  But in the meantime, no one says you can't drink some chocolate milk and ride your bike in the sunshine.  And I did just that - with Powered By Chocolate Milk! And I won't spoil the surprise - you'll just have wait and see what I'm talking about :)

That's all for now.  An update, a surprise to come, some reflections on resting.  Not bad to sum up October.

All I need now is some snow and a pair of skis.....

Don't forget to turn back your clocks - the one time in the year people actually may get enough sleep! Maybe try turning back your bedtime for a couple of months and see how happy that makes you :)

gillian

The RBC Whistler Gran Fondo, or, "Chicked on a bike"

What a day!

I was lucky enough to participate in the Royal Bank of Canada's Whistler Gran Fondo this past Saturday!  A huge thank you to RBC for making this possible!  As I've mentioned before, good things come in 3's, and this was the year's 3rd running of the "big bike".  So, I wanted to highlight my 3 favourite things about this year's event.

Prima Luce

It's not a race.  It's an event.  I was so happy about this.  I've had my fair share of racing this summer and it does, undoubtably, take it's toll on your psyche.  Your psyche affects your physiology, and mine was in definite need of rest time.  But that's not to say that a girl can't hop on her bike (yes, tri bike, sorry roadies but I was too lazy to switch my pedals & saddle over to the roadster) and ride to Whistler for fun!
I have never ridden my bike up to Whistler because I think there is a high degree of risk riding on those roads, and as beautiful as it is, I have decided against biking to Whistler.  So given the opportunity to ride on a protected course up to Whistler on a sunny Saturday was a dream event!  After racing at Ironman Canada, I was ready to just ride.
I love the start of these events - go to any other 'race' and someone is always going fast from the gun, cannon, bull horn, you name it.  In these events, the de rigueur is to nice out comfortably & at a friendly pace - what a nice way to start :)  Now, that sort of flies out the window once cyclists triple jacked on caffiene all hit the Upper Levels and start mash hammering & passing from both left and right sides, but, until that point it's lovely.  You cycle over the Lions' Gate bridge with the sun rising and mountains ahead of you and life just seems like a dream.  It had to have been one of the best mornings I've spent outside all year.  Simply fantastic.
Being a ride and not a race, it's likely the only event where I'll cycle behind Simon Whitfield.  So, again, if that doesn't sell you on doing this ride, what will?  (Editors note: I cycled behind him until Furry Creek Hill, then I promptly lost touch :)

Doppio Puntare

This is a great event for anyone to do.  If the 122km scares you, it shouldn't.  If the mass starts spook you a bit, fair game - but there is plenty of opportunity to start at the back and take your time, and work your way through (and you get a great draft!).  All you need is a bike that works, or works most of the time (there were lots of riders participating as Tech Support on course - as there were for Medical as well - props to the organizers for having riders in touch on the course!).  And of course, should you need it, there were plenty of ambulancias out on course as well.  Thanks guys!
There are beautiful aid stations with clean (yes, clean!) portapotties (a friend of mine even got an award for 'pee of the day' - which he did in a portapotty - but received a free cycling cap for his efforts - awesome!).  I even got off my bike to pee, which was a total luxury (for me and others near me) so too bad I missed out on the 'prizing'.  The aid stations are beautiful - full of fruit and Honey Stinger WAFFLES and all things sugary and good.  I found myself hungry at aid station #2 and delightfully pulled over and stocked up on yummy treats - then ate said yummy treats whilst enjoying the view - things I don't get to do in an Ironman event.  I was a very happy girl!
But back to my point - you can do this event.  The organizers make it possible.  This is not a hard core die hard hammer til you drop or die event.  This is civilized.  This is pleasant.  To me, this event was truly luxurious in it's layout.  So, is it worth the cost of $200 odd dollars for a little bike ride?  I'd say it's a must do event one time in your life, and most certainly you'll forget about the cost once you've participated and enjoyed your life to the fullest that day.  No price point on that, I don't think.

Terza volta e un fascino

I got to wear this...

You Just Got Chicked, one of my lovely sponsors, as released a sweet cycling kit  that I was lucky enough to get my hands on for the RBC Whistler Gran Fondo!  What a treat!  I've been able to bust out my You Just Got Chicked gear for running and tri events, but not yet for cycling, so I was super excited to get this gear on and get my tuckus in motion and pass some boys out there.

It never fails! "AH, I just got chicked AGAIN" - it's my favourite phrase to hear as I smile and slice past boys on course.  It's a great way to make riding fun (for more than just the rider, I swear - I'm pretty sure the guys love it).  In fact, "I LOVE being chicked" was another hilarity someone shouted out as I zipped past.  I also have to say, some guys say nothing, and that is pretty satisfying too :)

So ladies - I really think you should call up the Chicked girls and order this kit!  The more Chicked girls out there the better - and what wouldn't be sweeter than a pace line of You Just Got Chicked cycling kits??  Um, nothing :)

Happy riding everyone - fall is coming - although luckily in Vancouver we appear to be getting a second shot at summer - just with a crisp morning and evening - not too shabby!  Enjoy the outdoor rides before indoor training season is upon us.

Bicicletta, l'amore!

"Like a dog with a bone", or, the Subaru Ironman Canada 2011 Race Report.

One week later.  

How would I describe my race?  I thought to myself, somewhat unglamorously, like a dog with a bone.

Stubbornly persist, and you will find that the limits of your stubbornness go well beyond the stubbornness of your limits.  ~Robert Brault

Photo Credit to Sue S. 

Although it seems slightly embarrassing to admit, I have yet to take off my ID bracelet, the shiny, silvery, sparkling ring around my wrist.  I was told cut-off time was yesterday at 5:01 p.m., but, when the time came, no one cut if off my wrist.  And it's on today.  I think though, it's time to take it off and start fresh.  It does appear that I am not finished with this storyline yet.  Because I'll get a new one in less than 5 weeks.  I think there is a metaphor somewhere in there.

I won't lie, I've been having a hard time conceptualizing what to write as a race report for this year's Ironman Canada 2011.  I love to write.  I wish it was my part-time job and all the rest I could spend on my bike, in my running shoes, or attached to a kick board in the pool (yes, I do like kicking).  Sometimes, however, the push to write and describe and help people understand what it was like to be in my shoes for the day, is difficult for reasons unbeknownst to me.  I think it is due, in part, to the fact that I still may be suffering a bit from shock from it all.

So I came 5th.  Ok, that's good.  5th of all women.  That's really quite good.  I was the first female amateur finisher.  That's terrific.  I won my age group of W30-34.  That was my specific race goal, although I told almost no one about it, and until I crossed the tape at the finish line, I refused to believe it was true.  I qualified for Kona, which was the overarching goal of the year.  I'm sure you can look up all the stats if you want to, but I am also impressed that I finished 67th, men & women inclusive.  I thought that was pretty nifty.  There are lots of numbers, & if you're interested, you can find them here .

I don't find it's too interesting to go into a point to point, bit by bit descriptor of the race, because either a) you are a triathlete and you are quite familiar with the process, or b) you're not a triathlete and find the nitty gritty boring and would just like to know the funny parts, or, the sad parts.  I don't know if I have overly funny or sad parts, as my goal of the race was to stay consistent and focused on task.  How boring.  But, boring often yields results.  To appease all parties, here goes a short summary of race day and any follies or foibles along the way.

I must mention before I start, that I have been given a great advantage to be able to stay with our lovely home-stay Ann once again, although this time she would be away for the race.  That said, she still opened her home well in advance of the race and allowed us to stay.  Acclimatizing to the heat, as it turned out this year, was a major advantage.  I can't thank Ann enough for being so gracious as to have us stay there so comfortably for race week - but I'll thank her again anyways!

Race week last year was stomach turning for me.  I wasn't comfortable, always intimidated by flashy triathletes cranking out big workouts leading up to the race.  They were twitchy, hardcore, ready to race. Like a stable full of racehorses (not implying anything WADA wouldn't approve of here, don't get your knickers in a knot).  I didn't feel like I belonged, I wanted to stay up on the hill and just slide into the crowd on Sunday and race.

Flash forward to this year.  Knowing how I finished last year (10:58:34 I believe), I looked around and thought, "Ok, I am generally faster than most of these people" (I finished I think, 349th, of 2800 or something like that). So in my mind that worked out to me being able to look at an imaginary group of 10 people, and being faster than 7-8 of them.  That improved my confidence, and lessened the burden of intimidation quite a lot over last year.  People were ripping along Eastlake road with their bikes, I cruised along and studied the run course, taking a big swallow of pride every once in a while when I saw a speedy lady firing along.  It's ok, I thought, you're not racing today.

Days roll along when you're up there, and in the last few days it just came down to me wanting to race.  I was tired with everyday waiting and my body just wanted to go.  Horse in the gate.  Blinders on.  My imaginary jockey on my back with a whip, waiting.  All of a sudden, it was 3:30 in the morning, and in a very calm and organization fashion, life arranges itself and you're down at the body marking gate.  My ability this year to sit back (mentally) and take in much more of what was around me this year, was quite eye opening.  I wasn't the only one feeling sick to death about it all last year - in fact, that was the sense I got from so many other people.  Again, feeling quite calm about the whole thing, I just went and got all my jobs done.  Body marked.  Tires pumped.  Nutrition on the bike (funnily enough, I had drank all my powerdrink whatever in the days leading up to the race - woke up and realized I had none - which was fine - someone had given me some electrolyte tabs walking along the Farmers' market - so at least I had some sodium & potassium on board).  Honestly, it really didn't bother me.

As challenges go, when you train so much things are whittled down to a science.  You should swim about this fast, bike about this fast, run about this fast, give or take a few minutes.  When I looked at the forecast climbing and climbing throughout the week, I thought, "Ok, great.  A new challenge", and I honestly meant it.  I also know that I seem to do well in the heat (please no jinxing myself here....).  I can take on loads of fluids and process them pretty well, and most certainly that came in handy last Sunday.  I don't know exactly how much I drank, I don't keep track, but between each aid station I came close to finishing 3/4 of each water and powerdrink bottle, so if every aid station on the bike is ~18-20km apart, you can do the math.

But first, the swim.  This will be the only time I really struggled during the race.  I am now a faster swimmer than I was last year and knew that it would be more advantageous to me to start closer to the front.  This would also be my first experience with getting literally smashed in the swim.  I believe what had happened is perhaps slower swimmers started up front (why, why....doesn't it scare you to have 1000's of swimmers coming to drown you?) and then faster swimmers behind them start piling up, which slows down the swimmers behind them, who pile on your pile, and so on and so forth.  I had no where to go except over other people.  It was really uncomfortable.  I had no where to put hands in the water, nothing to pull, just a sea of neoprene.  I took a solid punch to the head, and that was a bell ringer.  I was instantly disoriented, but really had no where to go but forward, and within a few seconds realized I needed to not be emotional about that and just solider on.  Because it was war out there.  And anyways, I do well when punched before races, so now I know I also do well while being punched during the races.  Bring it.

I must have been in the worst area because I know it wasn't like this everywhere.  Looking at an aerial shot of the swim start, I know where I am.  I'm in the white froth.  So....just trying to maintain a heart rate (not that I have a monitor but I just know what that ticker is doing) under 200bpm, and getting enough oxygen, was often the motto for minutes at a time.  Now, I'm sure the current kept pulling us along, but it certainly was not a well executed swim start.  Knowing where we turned, I would say that I was battling from about 100m, until about 1200m.  That is a lot of wasted energy. Well, depends on your definition of wasted.  It certainly wasn't wasted if you look at it from the "I'd like to live through this swim" viewpoint.  Knowing the pro-start was about 60 or so people, I think it would be nice to switch to pro solely for the purpose of the swim start.  Perhaps that's not the case either, but being in a shark tank with thousands of thrashing pirañas is not much fun either.  The second half of the swim was just lovely, and I had wished it had all been like this.  Oh well.  Nice to end it on a positive note, all the same.

So, that was the swim, and it was all over in 1:08:39.  Slower than anticipated, happy to be moving on to the next challenge, as I always am in this sport.

The bike is long but this year it really felt short.  Crowded, certainly for the first 1/3, but then when hills come I find I pass quite a few people and then it thins out on every successive hill.  I make no apologies about my ability to climb.  I love it, and I'm good at it.  I think that might make some gentlemen upset.  I don't care.  Someone made some commentary at my road bike as I was climbing along, "Guess it's nice to have a road bike hey?" was one fellow's remark.  "Yes, haha, it IS nice".  "See you on the flats" I said.  I don't know if I ever saw him again.

The bike was to me, really quite unremarkable.  I felt very lucky not to be victim to what appeared to be tacks along the first section of the course.  My heart really does go out to those who had to contend with that, an unfair happening as it really is just a roll of the dice & that takes fair play out of sport, something of which I hold in high regard.  To anyone who is reading this and had that unfortunate mishap, congratulations to you for maintaining a positive attitude and continuing on with the race.  Sport isn't just about times & results, it's also about the ability to overcome & persevere on so many levels.

The bike can be quite lonely for the last couple of hours.  Albeit solitary, it is beautiful, the Similkameen valley swallowing you up as you ride along it's valley.  This year, I was comforted by the fact there was no black lurching sky, no finger of grey whirling it's way down towards the Yellow Lake climb, ready to soak & chill to the bone as it was last year.  This year, it was all blue sky.  Hot blue sky, I might add.  I really never had a problem with heat on the bike, but as anyone who did the race knows, it was a little bit windy on the way back down the climb, which, at 160km, sort of takes a vice grip to your energy stores and puts the pressure on to the very end.  You are rewarded however, with heaps of cheering fans (the fans! the unbelievable fans!) along the sidewalks of what was turning out to be a very hot day in Penticton.

So no problems on the bike.  No time wasted.  You know what I mean.  No near misses, no troubles with anyone.  Really, boring is beautiful sometimes.  My bike was completed in 5:34:34.  Neat time.  And I must say, not to shabby for a road bike.  Although I am thinking a tri bike would be nice...

I don't have much to say about my transitions.  Efficient enough.  Volunteers are your greatest resource during this race.   Positive, encouraging, helpful to the enth degree.  They make it happen for you out there at the races.  I always wish I had more energy to thank them more, but I don't usually (or enough oxygen) so I hope that my thanks is transmitted along the karma express somehow.  I try to smile - always try to smile.

I must say at this point I really have no clue where I am sitting in the rankings, although this is quite important to me I'm not ready to get fussed about it yet.  At the out & back I did start counting females, and to my surprised realized that there weren't that many, although no way to really tell who was who, people are flying by so quickly.

Out on the run.  It always amazes me how much my body wants to run after getting off the bike.  It wants to get my butt off the saddle and stretch out and use some new muscles.  It likes the rhythm of running.  It likes to pass people.

Although well hydrated on the bike it became clear there was no time to waste in aid stations as I started to pass through.  It's just a well orchestrated (you hope) grab & dash the best you can using what little brain power you have to get the right things (cola....no....water....yes).   After missing a cup of water and worried that I would have to wait until the next station I sucked on a sponge.  Gross.  I now realize they fall on the ground, go back in the bin, get wiped on who knows what, but honestly, I was that worried about not getting enough water in.  However, that is the last sponge I will drink from.  Much better used on your head.

I don't run with a gps or garmin so I really have to rely on km/mi markings.  I checked the first couple of miles and my pace seemed good enough, and I felt really comfortable.  My overwhelming repetitive mantra for the first half of the race was, "Make it easy".  I must have said that hundreds of times to myself.  I have run a few marathons and I know, that every time I run a successful one, the first half just feels like a breeze, and of course, this also usually translates to a negative split.  I managed to do this again, as I did last year, not that I ever knew that at the time I was running.  I just cruised along (it is however, nice to cruise quickly compared to who is running around you, I won't lie) and noticed the odd woman with numbers ranging in the 30-34 range.

The inauspicious start to my run race I thought was pretty funny.  I chose to go with regular laces for this race because I wasn't liking how elastic laces where often putting too much pressure on the top of my feet.  So laces it was.  And laces really have done the trick all along - however, when you start dumping water, sponges, ice melting, sprinkles, guy with a hose and a good aim for triathletes - I didn't know that you laces can come undone more easily than normal.  So, upon passing a W30-34 contender, I promptly had my laces come undone and had to stop to re-do.  Then she re-passed.  Then I passed her back.  Then my laces came undone 1km later.  Then re-passed.  Then I re-passed, and at this point, had so much fluid on board that I was having trouble concentrating on the task at hand and had to visit the porta-potty.  That felt great.  Then, she had re-passed me in the process.  Eventually, I passed her again for the last time and I really never saw her again.

So you think that would be the end of it, but, you're wrong.  I managed to pass another girl in my age group, and right on time my laces came undone once more.  I laughed out loud and shouted "COME ON!" - and at this point I'm sure this girl thinks I'm going off my rocker and will eventually be victim to the side of the road shuffle.  Well, you guessed it, I retied with gusto and passed her again.  And then I just passed everyone else (although I refused to believe I had truly passed everyone.....when you are on the borderline of bloodsugar city you don't always believe what you hear, or see.....elvis?).

By the half way point I was told that was I was the first amateur.  I really didn't believe this and thought some girls had slipped through the cracks unnoticed.  At the turn around I noticed that it really wasn't too far back that a line of girls had formed behind me.  I grabbed whatever I needed at the special needs bag and started to formulate my plan.  It is a bit of a slug out of OK Falls, uphill, now into the headwind, and a bit of a mental turning point (good or bad).  Luckily for me, I had felt so good to this point that I was ready to get moving.  Arrogant or not, the phrase in my head was to "make them hurt".  So, up the cadence, up the speed, up the breathing a little, and stay true to my fluid & nutrition and stay on the gas for a while.  It's really odd to be ahead - I very much felt like I was being chased, yet at the same time reasonably confident in my abilities as a runner.  I passed a WPRO who was incredibly encouraging, and then realized, holy cow, what is happening?

By this point I started to believe the people who were cheering for the first amateur female.  Me?  I didn't expect this.  I was blown away with how supportive everyone was.  I don't just mean fans & spectators on the side of the road, although they are always impressive.  Participants (mostly women) coming the other way - giving their support and encouragement to me while they were still racing!  The smiles on their faces - just incredibly uplifting to me - although I'm sure my face remained quite straight, if my heart was on my sleeve they would have been able to see my appreciation.

Now, at the same time this is all happening, I am also just a little bit terrified of letting this all slip away from me.  I was definitely feeling the heat, every once in a while the world becomes a little bit tippy, or fuzzy, and that was a little worrying, but it never seemed to get the better of me as long as I just stayed consistent to pace.  I now had realized I was in a position to win, more excited than anything to win my age group as that would solidify my goal for the year, which was qualifying for the world championships in Kona.  That's really all I wanted.  The rest of what was to come was one big bonus.

I was also trying for the sub-10 hr mark.  I started the run knowing that if I could run 3:10 that I would fall underneath 10 hrs.  I also realized that time shouldn't always drive your efforts, especially in a marathon at the end of 3.8km swim and 180km bike.  So I hoped for the best but realized I was running a different kind of race, a race for placing.  I could make an excuse for the fact it was hot but really I just didn't execute a 3:10 race.  What I ended up doing, after putting a relatively strong and consistent surge for about 12km, was to run within my comfort zone and contain the energy I had should I need to race someone to the finish.  I half expected someone to crawl up on my shoulder and make a pass.  I almost wanted someone to do it because I felt so confident in what I had left in the tank.  But long story short, no one was there.  At 2 miles to go, I looked at my watch and had about 14:05 left to make it under 10 hrs, which means running about 7:02 miles.

Crap, I thought.  Should I try?  Would I explode, cramp, end up walking and being passed?  I assessed the risk.  My body certainly wanted to just cruise.  My brain thought, you should give it a try (knowing pretty well I was going to miss it).  I did it anyways, I gave it a try, knowing second by second was ticking away.  It wasn't upsetting, just very matter of fact.  At a point I could hear Steve King announce there was 2 minutes to go until 10 hrs was up, then 30 seconds.  I was impossibly far away.  But I didn't slow down.  This train had got up to max speed and it was loving it there.  Sure, maybe I could have been more precise and ramped it up earlier, but the elusive 10 hr mark has become quite diminished in the face of every other mark that fell down upon me as I grabbed that tape.  I did it in 3:14:27.  I'm quite proud of that time, and even more so, that run.

It feels impossibly good to cross that line.

I finished in 10:01:58.  I heard a blur of Steve King's voice explaining I was the first female amateur of the day.  Then I really believed it.  The catchers asked if I was ok, I said yes.  I'm not sure if they believed me.  I must have looked shocked - and physical shock and mental shock can look quite similar, I suppose.

I have so many thoughts and feelings about the race, about my year I have spent focused on this race, with all my eggs in one big proverbial basket.  Some days I was sure of myself, other days I worried the earth's floor would be pulled right out from underfoot.  When people asked if I was ready for the race, I think for the most part I said yes.  I felt quietly confident.  There were many levels of great performances on the day and I have a great appreciation for all of them.  I may still be digesting my own.  I make no apologies for being happy with my performance.  This wasn't a fluke.  I worked for this.

In the same vein, I have had unbelievable support.  I have been given the opportunity to go after my dreams and complete them to the fullest, only realizing that dreams never really stop, they are ever ascending.  I have now done things that just years ago I truly would only have dreamed of.  And I'm just a regular human being who has been able to go after it with everything I have.  I am an incredibly lucky person in that sense, and I owe gratitude to those who allowed this to be possible.  Of note, I would like to thank my lovely sponsors for believing in me and supporting me this year.  So a big thank you to Aquadiva Swimwear Sponsorship, Reflect Sports, and The Massage Therapy Clinic at the UBC Aquatic Centre .  Also a big thank you to IMPACT Magazine for being so supportive and encouraging of local Canadian athletes - your support & recognition makes a big difference! Of course it goes without saying, if there is anyone who is interested in further sponsorship, this gal could certainly use it!

So that's it.  That is the race for me.  And now I have another one to do, in 5 weeks.  It's exciting and again, I don't really think I have a clue of what to expect.  But I'm looking forward to racing.  I love it.  I love the training too, I am looking forward to slowly getting back to that after one week off.  What else can you do but just enjoy all of this?  I don't know, but at this point that's how I feel.  There are decisions I will have to make down the line, but at this point, I have a job to do in of all lovely places, Hawaii.  I don't think it gets much better than that.

Time to sign off and wrap this up.  I will try my best to post a photo blog in the upcoming week when I gather a few photos together, but for now it's just the story.

Thank you for taking the time to read my never short thoughts & reports of my year's happenings.  I'll try to give you something worth reading about in another month or so.  Stay tuned :)

To everyone who helped make my race another one of the most special moments of my life, I thank you.

Gillian

Sitting, Waiting, Wishing

Well, that's not exactly what I'm doing all the time, but I often do a little of each now - and this is day 1 of taper to Ironman Canada, and there's about 17 days left, give or take some hours here and there.

I haven't written anything in my blog for a while.  I've been busy.  Busy hanging on.  Every once in a while, when I was able to borrow perspective from a friend in conversations over the last couple of months, I was able to realize how much training I've been able to do compared to last year.  In the middle of it, it just feels like a fog, and my only job was to focus on getting the work done day by day.  I've had my freak out moments.  I was told to focus on one day at a time.  Perspective is something of a rare item in the midst of it all.

I still don't have a total and complete picture of it all, an understanding, but I have finally felt like I've come out of the fog and have been able to feel some feelings besides the standard "tired", "sore", "dread", "disbelief", and "couch please".  That being said, I know deep down I actually l love a lot of those thoughts and I thrive in my ability to take them on and prove myself wrong.  But sometimes, when you put a lot of work in, the work can become bigger than your ability to conquer, and you're just holding on.  I have been holding on.  And it's been an interesting experience.  I'm learning a lot about myself.

It may sound cliche, but you really never know what you can do until you find your limits, and then you find these great big open doors in front of you.  When you are at your limit, ironically, you become even more limitless.  I have kept saying in my head for the past few months, the human body is one big stupid machine.  It just does what you tell it to.  The trick is, can you tell it to do what you want?

If I've learned anything in the past month, is that your brain must be the most important training tool in the world.  Yes, more than your garmins, your power meters, your dorkels and your aero (insert whatever here).  Nothing can make you race faster than your brain can.  Not a thing in the world.  And that is kind of neat.  Priceless.  You have it - it's attached (hopefully....although there were days I, and others, would question that...), and you are in control if you want to be.  Tough part is, the brain is so powerful, it can often become seemingly impossible to control.  And on the brink of exhaustion, it be becomes one tricky customer to please, but it can also be your greatest salvation and best friend.

The brain runs on glucose.  Training is constantly emptying your bank of glucose.  You can see where we're going here.  Insult to injury, your brain cells needs 2x what other cells need.  So if you are tearing your body apart, piece by piece, what do you think is happening up there?  Well, research would say a few things about this - but mostly what you read is that exercise is beneficial to the brain & I couldn't agree more.  However, anyone who has gone through some pretty long and arduous sessions understands some of the following negative thoughts & feelings often accompanied with low blood sugar, and here are my top 10.

1.  "I can't keep going, I need to slow down, I need to stop, I'm going to fall over, please fall over".
2.  "I hurt, I have nothing left, my tank is empty, please stop hitting me with a tire iron, no wait, please someone Nancy Kerrigan me, and make it look good"
3.  "I am going to crap my pants"
4.  "I cannot possibly get off this couch/floor/bed"
5.  "My legs have finally, and completely, turned to cement swiss cheese"
6.  "My arms are on fire and I'm about to drown in a 5-foot pool with a pullbuoy"
7.  "I should just divert this run/race and head straight for the ocean, no one will find me there"
8.  "I won't be able to do this effort when I need to, it's too tough, I'm going to fail"
9.  "It's ok if they pass me, I don't mind, I don't care" (anyone who knows me knows I care, a LOT)
10.  "It hurts, I'm scared"

I bet I'm not the only one to have those thoughts.  If I let them get the better of me all the time I wouldn't be where I am now.  So here is the magic power of the brain vs. the 'big stupid machine'.  You can choose to use what you've got - the best training tool there is - your noggin.  And 10 thoughts to trump the others?

1.  "You are hanging on, you can keep this effort going, you're strong"

2.  "You are loving this pain.  This pain is awesome.  This pain means you are training/racing damn hard.  Bring. It. On."
3.  "You haven't crapped your pants yet, and even if you do, it's hard core and you're going to run faster to get finished and get changed"
4.  "You are off the couch, and putting one foot in front of the other.  It's all that matters"
5.  "Cement swiss cheese is what champions are made of" HA.
6.  "You're doing the one thing you never thought you could do, and you're getting better at it, and you're beating people doing it"
7.  "The ocean will feel much better once you're done the workout, then you can head straight in"
8.  "Your race effort is always there, is always strong, and you don't fail.  No drama, keep going"
9.  "Hang on, use them, hold them, & show them what you can do.  Chick them"
10.  Finally, I think the best thought is no thought at all.  When it hurts, when I'm afraid, I often just tell myself it's time to stop thinking.  About anything.  It's time for the big stupid machine to do the work.

That is the beautiful balance.  They work together perfectly if you'll let them.  Force things and you might blow up beyond all imagined proportion.  You have to trust yourself, your brain, your body, on all the work you've done and know that it will be there for you if you let it.  Easier said than done, absolutely.  And I still get nervous thinking about what will happen in a few weeks time.  I'm moving toward my limits again, the scariest and most rewarding place of all.  But for now, it's time to restock this precious and slightly battered body and brain with some restoration, perspective, feel good sessions (my body has forgotten what the h these are).

The physical work is hard.  But the mental work is even tougher.  That's what I've learned this summer.  This also includes the mental work of rest & recovery, which I'm sure soon will become much harder than it is today.  It takes confidence, and confidence comes from perspective, and from out of the fog bank comes the ability to find those rays of light that help you to see what is really important.

I described sitting, waiting - but what about wishing?  Do I have a wish?

You bet I do.