Week of September 1

Monday         Yep, September already. Funny how we mark changes in the year not by January but by September. I'm in Montreal for one week, getting ready for the Big Triathlon. I couldn't remember what today's workout was, only that it was a speed day, so I warmed up a little in the local streets and then went to the high school for 4 x 800m sprints. It was a bit discouraging: after training all summer and being on a good track under ideal conditions, I could only average 4:08 for each sprint. That translates to a 4hr08 marathon - STILL over my goal!! I'm a shade slower than last year, which is even MORE frustrating! Guess I'll be doing some track workouts after the triathlon.

Tuesday         There's something inherently unpleasant about running on the Montreal South Shore. I don't know what exactly it is, but every time I'm here and I go for a run, my endurance is cut by at least 75%, my legs feel like concrete, and I'm generally quite miserable during the whole (short) workout. Yesterday was an exception. This morning, however, I felt absolutely terrible. The run lasted an agonizing 32min - probably my shortest run in four years. Now I don't know if I should continue with other workouts (notably the bike ones) for the rest of the week in an effort to acclimatize, or simply stick to short runs but risk being uncomfortable on the bike on Saturday.

Thursday         Skipped yesterday's run. This is definitely not the week to start discouraging myself by finding out I can't run 5km all of a sudden. This morning's run was a bit better, maybe because I chose a more scenic route. I ran over to my old high school and stopped for a while. Funny how it's smaller than I remember. Then to the river and watched the sun coming up over the mountain. My heart rate was quite high and I was trying to push my pace a little. I finally gave up on that idea and took it easy in the last ten minutes.

Friday         No workout today. This entry is only one of many ways I'm using to calm my nerves. I don't think I've ever been this nervous about an event in my life. No, that's not true: I used to be complete wreck before the countless equestrian competitions my horse and I participated in years ago. I've got all my transition stuff packed in a laundry basket (easier to carry), all my shower stuff packed in a bag, and my bike is waiting patiently in the garage. Now all I have left to are the truly difficult things: eat, sleep, and stay calm.

Saturday         The Demi-Esprit Triathlon It's funny that even though we tell ourselves something is going to be hard, we don't quite realise what that means until we're actually in the midst of the battle and begging for mercy. That was the case in the Triathlon. I knew it would be hard; I knew I would be exhausted and reaching into everything I had for inspiration, but somehow I never really expected to be tested. But being challenged is the whole point, isn't it?
        Getting to the Olympic Basin and setting up my transition area were much smoother than I expected. Mom and Dad were my support team, driving me to the basin, shouting support - all those little things that mean so much. In the transition area I made friends with Jane, also doing her first half-Ironman. She was calm and experienced, having several years on the National Duathlon team behind her. The morning was already hot and sunny, and the full Ironman had started at 7am. Watching them coming out of the water and going through the transition was awe-inspiring: these people had been in the water for over an hour, and were now getting ready for a 180km bike ride, followed by a full marathon. I got into my wetsuit about 20min before the start. Dad warned me about a slippery ramp into the water; I nodded, walked over to the ramp, and promptly slipped and fell. Although the water temperature had been a tropical 23C the night before during the race meeting, it was very chilly this morning and only a handful of the 200 of us at the start didn't have wetsuits on. I had warmed up in the water a bit, remembering my experience in St. George. The water didn't make me nervous. In fact, I seemed to be swimming quite well. Jane and I stood at the back of the pack in the minutes before the start, joking about our slow crawls and reminding ourselves about the importance of pacing. Lesson No. 1: Triathlons are all about PACING.
        The horn went off and we walked into the water. I started swimming. My right goggle immediately filled with water. I stopped and emptied it. It filled again. Hm, good start. I gave up on the goggle and trying something else, like swimming in a straight line. The water was cool and clear. For the first time, I discovered I could keep my eyes open during the swim!! Obviously, I measure my progress in very small steps. I watched the algae gliding by below me and searched unsuccessfully for the cable lines that would keep me swimming in a straight line. Whatever had I been afraid of before? Watching other swimmers ahead and beside me was fascinating, especially when I caught up to them. I experimented with drafting and accidentally got punched in the nose. Then the next thing I knew the turn-around buoys were ahead of me and I was on my way back.
        Had I known how hard the rest of the day would have been, I probably would have tried to enjoy the swim even more. That's not to say that I hadn't relaxed during my swim; it had been remarkably stress-free. I would simply have savoured every moment in that cool water, knowing brutal sun and 32C temperatures were waiting for me for the next 6 hours. Dad (and - surprise! - Uncle Bob) was waiting for me as I got out of the water and walked with me through the transition. The dizzying effect of swimming had made me barely conscious of anything but trying to get on the bike. Through the transition smoothly, walk to the bike-mount, and off I went down the side of the basin to the Circuit Gilles Villeneuve (the Formula 1 car racetrack.) Other cyclists were already whizzing around and I settled in around just over 30km/hr in the headwind. The Circuit is 4.4km long, has a little incline on the east end. The opposite end is where all the spectators were and the lap-counter and mats were placed. Going through that corner was a rush: you would come down the stretch with the wind in your back and your speed quite high, then position yourself for the upcoming turn in the midst of all those spectators and bank steeply into the curve, whip over the mat, and charge out again. I think I did that for the first 9 laps, then the novelty of it (and extra energy) wore out. The stretch along the basin was the worst part: it had a strong headwind, no trees or vegetation, too much blinding sun, and a slight incline that pulled on your legs. I used that part distract myself: eat and drink, then stand up on the pedals up the small incline at the end (to get the circulation going), then start picking up speed and going through the S-curves. It worked - barely. The first ten laps were exciting. I watched the other cyclists, tried drafting the Whiner, a woman who turned out to be an atrocious cyclist (more about her later), zipped around the hairpin curve as Mom and Dad and others cheered. Then the heat of the day started to creep up. My pace slowed. The track became quieter as other cyclists left for the running. The crowd of spectators thinned out. My stomach couldn't decide if it was hungry, not hungry, or sick. The race official finally yelled "19" as I crossed the mats and I knew I was on my last lap.
        When my feet hit the ground at the dismount I immediately regretted my decision to leave my shoes on the pedals. The asphalt was burning hot and I had a long way to walk/shuffle between the gate and my transition. The overwhelming heat hit me even harder now that I had no more wind from the bicycle. I put my shoes on, turned my number belt, and then - BIG mistake - took a few gulps of Gatorade. I start shuffling to the exit. I shuffled past the exit. I kept shuffling. Then I walked. The first stretch along the St. Lawrence Seaway was incredibly discouraging. My heart raced like a machine gun, even at a walk, and I had so much Gatorage that I couldn't do anything but slosh. This was the low point of the race. I really started wondering whether I could do this. It's always so disappointing when you have visions of running confidently in the final few hours and you realise that these visions have been dashed. I walked and walked, almost in tears. The first lap around the Basin was humiliating. I stopped at every aid station, poured water over myself, and nearly threw up in front of Mom and Dad. In the second lap I caught up with the Whiner. She whined and whined about how hard this was and that it was all crazy. I decided I was having a hard enough time without the bad attitude, so I let her move ahead. I began having visions of me curled up in a fetal position on the ground after the finish line.
        Soon after another woman caught up to me. Stephanie was doing her first triathlon after giving birth to a daughter ten months ago. Now I felt REALLY humbled. We stuck together for the final two laps, sharing our reasons for doing triathlons, our inspirations, and good experiences. My nausea remained an impediment until the last lap when Stephanie suggested I take some of the Coke available at the last aid station. Suddenly my nausea departed and I started talking and talking. If only I had known earlier the magical effects of Coke! The finish line came up, I started accelerating, and...that was it!
        The results are now posted. I'm embaressed to admit that I was last in my age-gender category. Even the Whiner beat me. But I was only 7min behind the winner (again, in my category), and 2nd in the run. However, we measure success by where we are now relative to where we were yesterday. There is nothing quite like the accomplishment of a long-standing goal, one that has taken months to reach and that required grappling with fear.

Week of September 8

Sunday         OK, I really shouldn't have taken the whole week off. It just took me that long to get caught up with everything else in life since I had been away for three weeks. And I REALLY shouldn't have gone running for the first time in a week on the wettest day of the season - and running for over 1h30min. The consequence of all this? The worst ITB flare-up in four years. I'm terribly worried now, since Advil and ice didn't seem to help.

Week of September 15

Wednesday         My legs are STILL sore! My hamstrings feel like they're three inches long and even the bottoms of my feet are stiff. This is ridiculous. The heavy artillery is coming out: I've been putting ice on my knees twice a day since Sunday and I've taken loads of Advil. Then I do yoga every night to stretch my legs, and today I bought new shoes (Saucony Grid Jazz.) The weather here in Fredericton was absolute perfection today, so of course I went out for a run to see how my anti-ITB strategy was working. Very well, apparently. It was a short run - to the Sheraton, along the river, across the pedestrian bridge, and back - and I ran quietly. A few twinges from my right knee but otherwise everything was OK. The shoes are fantastic!         The plane tickets arrived a few weeks ago! There's no turning back now.

Thursday         The weather was again breathtaking. After supper I headed out for the Northside Trail, just a little fearful of how my knee would behave. My speed was quite slow and my stride was very different from yesterday's, mostly because I had cut out the heel of the inner sole of my new running shoes in order to accomodate the orthotics I use. It was such a peaceful evening to be running. At the end of the trail, just before it comes out in the fields before the Marysville Heritage Centre, I stopped and watched the mist appearing over a field on the other side of the river. On my way back the clouds in the sky were turning a brilliant orange and pink. Another great run.

Saturday         The 40km run I had planned for today has been delayed until next week after my knee has had a little more time to recover. Today's run was (thankfully) only about 23km. Given the incredible heat and humidity of the day, 23km probably felt like 40km. It was the overwhlming, stifling sort of heat, too, without even the slightest breeze to help cool off when I paused. I also used the waterbelt again today. The first 30min of the run were spent re-adjusting the blasted thing until it didn't bounce too much. After about 45min I settled into a nice pace and tried my best to ignore the heat. I stuck to the Gibson (ie Northside) Trail, all the way to the pedestrian bridge in Penniac. That section of the trail - past Bridge Street - is the unknown autumn wonder of Fredericton. The colour of the leaves between now and mid-October is worth the two-hour run.

Week of September 23

Monday         Pouring rain forced me to the Y for my workout tonight. I haven't been there since....June (I think.) It was nice to be back and to see lots of familiar faces. On the other hand, nothing beats running outside alone and in peace. I modified my 6x800m sprints on the treadmill to 4x(1min hill, 1min recovery, 1min sprint). Treadmills are useful for hills workouts. You can enjoy the work of going up without sacrificing your knees to the agony of going down.

Tuesday         After an inspiring Socrates Café this evening, I was all set for a great run. I had planned on running the Parkhurst/Inglewood Driveloop and then head to the Green, but I was so excited that I ran right by Parkhurst and got onto the trail below Odell Park instead. Oh well, I hadn't done Golf Club Road in a while anyway. I kept the pace and foot turnover quite rapid, although I think I'm still considerably slower than I was last year at this time. Going up the hills wasn't a problem at all. It's probably psychological: you can't really visually perceive the incline in the dark, so you're less likely to tell yourself "This is going to be hard." Going downhill put a bit of strain on my right knee.

Wednesday         I couldn't wait to get out of the office and go running this evening. There hadn't been a cloud in the sky all day, the temperature was cool and not even a breeze. Perfect for a glorious evening run. I did my 4x10min tempo on the Gibson (Northside) trail to Marysville and back. As with all tempo and speed workouts, the first set felt impossibly difficult, but each consecutive 10min felt faster and stronger. I'm discovering that one of the keys to running strong is having a strong, solid mid-section. Some right knee pain, mostly because I haven't been putting ice on it twice a day.

Thursday         The trip to Greece is starting to come together. My sweetie and I will be staying at the Attalos Hotel in Athens, for the very simple reason that, unlike most European hotels and hostels, it has a BATHTUB. This is crucial after a marathon, especially for minor things like walking again. We've also got a vague itinerary planned (a few islands in the Cyclades.) So needless to say I was inspired to run last night. It was another beautiful evening so I made it out of the apartment just after supper. Although runnig on a full stomach is not very pleasant, watching the sun set and the colour of the light in the trees makes it worth the pain. I tried to stay very fast, remembering yesterday's run and how speed came more naturally at the end of the run. Still had a very high heartrate.

Saturday         The rain cleared up earlier than forecasted this morning and the weather turned out to be as perfect as one would want for a four hour run. I was very worried about my knee, which did indeed bother me for the first two hours. Oddly enough, the nagging (it wasn't really a pain) completely disappeared after two hours. I had my water bottle belt and a PowerBar. I will most definitely NOT be carrying that #$%^& belt around the marathon.
        I had just received the triathlon photos from Marasport in the mail, and looking at them just before starting the run was a great way to remind myself of the importance of PACING. That was more or less the only strategy I kept in mind as I ran the four hours. The first two hours went incredibly well. I ran to the end of the trail in Penniac, then back to Marysville for a few hills. Back again to the Green and all the way over to Golf Club Road for more hills. My legs began truly hurting around 3hr20min. Some runner passed me on the Green, yelling "Let's go!" as he flew by. Little did he know...
        Sting's "Desert Rose" got me through the last 20min as I came back down Golf Club Road and shuffled my way home. Upon my return I jumped into a cold bath, based on some advice I had read in Triathlete magazine. It was good advice, too: Sunday morning my legs were very tired, but not at all stiff!

Go to October 2002 journal entries.