Category: racing

charity · fitness · racing · running

Am I Worthy? (Guest Post)

amysmithphd2 Comments

By Elizabeth Duclos-Orsello

I have a confession to make. Just 14 days before running the 2024 Boston Marathon as part of a charity team raising money to fight racial and economic injustice in Boston (a cause deeply aligned with my professional and personal commitments.)

My confession: I sort of wish I could back out. Because I can’t handle the pressure.

Liz, a red-haired white woman, wearing Boston marathon running gear and a foil cape.

I’m pretty certain I can handle the physical pressure of running 26.2 miles. I’ve done that distance more than 40 times and have run more than 26.2 miles on some occasions. (Darn, I’ve even raced Boston 8 times before, and I’m a running coach for goodness’ sake!). But can I handle the pressure to perform and prove my worthiness to be here at all?

To many people I know, I’m a seasoned marathoner and ultra marathoner who runs all the time. And in some ways, this is true. I do love to run. And I run a lot. I can run long. And I can run pretty fast (for a 50-year-old). I could (if I had the time) run hours a day and find joy in every step. I have run on three continents, in more than a dozen countries, nearly all US states. At dawn, at midnight, and with the sun at its apex. In the shadows of pyramids, on the streets of countries rebuilding from war, on crowded sidewalks in urban spaces, and in quiet woods in my various home states.

I love to run. But I don’t love to race because I hate having my running on public display. And right now, the pressure weighing on me is the pressure to be publicly productive with my running and training and preparation for this race. And to perform on race day. To prove that I am worthy.

I feel the need to prove I’m worthy of the right to run this marathon. That I’m worthy of taking up space in this race. That my body deserves to be out there on April 15. Social media traffic among the Boston marathoning crowd can be brutal. There are posts asking why “charity” runners get to “take the places” of those who have “qualified” by time. There are those who have mused publicly about the selfishness of those like me, who have run this storied race before, while others who wish to, have not.

And because I worry about my worthiness as a charity runner, I feel the need to perform for others; to be happy, energetic, gracious and grateful at all times to friends, to fellow runners, online, to potential donors, to the non-profit staff. After all, I have “taken up” a spot in a race with only 30,000 spots. After all, the charity has “allowed” me to run “for them”. After all, I could just step aside. Instead, I have to publicly ask others to support me.

A row of women taken from behind. The women are wearing athletic gear and have their arms up to high-five runners as they pass by.

As someone who has struggled with imposter syndrome and a fair amount of body-hatred my whole life I’m feeling something deep and hard at this moment: the pressure to prove that I am worthy of others donating their hard-earned money to a cause I care about. To donating to me. To my body. I keep wondering: Is my body worthy enough…? Is my body worthy enough for you to care? Is my body worthy of your sacrifice? Then, if it is, what happens if I fail to knock the marathon out of the park?

These feelings and questions are troublingly familiar. They recall years of high school and college competitive running when terror gripped me each time I stepped up to a race. A place where others could see me and potentially witness my failure. I had won races, for sure. But would this be the day the truth of being a fraud was revealed? Would I still deserve to take up space on a team? On a track? To be called an athlete? I did not like my body. And I did not trust it to fulfill my duty to others (coaches, teammates, spectators). The eyes on me were too much. The fear of having to perform for others was too great. At 19 I stepped away from any competitive running. I couldn’t take the pressure. I didn’t want others to expect anything of my body and I didn’t want my body failing them. Failing to do whatever they hoped I (and my body) would do. I didn’t want the pressure.

So, as I face down these final days of fundraising, I have at times wished that I could just run this 26.2 mile on my own, without fear of letting anyone else down. I want to run and push forward and champion an anti-racist agenda in distance running with my race…but boy do I fear that I–and my body–will somehow fail the cause.

So now my confession is public. Perhaps foolishly. I know I should work on my mindset. But that is a task for another day. Today, I breathed. And today I ran…without a watch or a plan, for five easy miles. Solo. Hoping to believe a bit in my body. In me.

With a bit of luck, I’ll raise the remaining $400 of my fundraising goal by 4/12 and with a bit more luck, I’ll feel worthy as I run 26.2 miles from Hopkinton to Boston later this month.

Liz, a red-haired white woman, in running gear standing in front of a colorful sign that reads "I am strong"

Elizabeth Duclos-Orsello is a professor of American Ethnic Studies, Chair of a department at Salem State University, and consultant for non profits, universities and community groups on issues related to how groups and organizations can effect structural change with an intersectional lens at the core. She is also an RRCA certified running coach and founder of The Atalanta Effect running coaching for women.

She is running the 2024 Boston Marathon for team B.A.A. Gives Back, an organization working to address racial and economic justice in Boston through running and fitness efforts.https://www.givengain.com/project/elizabeth-raising-funds-for-boston-athletic-association-66826

cycling · fitness · movies · racing

GCN+ Mini Binge!

Sam B

GCN+–the Global Cycling Network– is about to expire. It’s all over on December 19, 2023.

You can read about it closing in this article, The rise & fall of GCN+ – is the livestream party over for cycling fans?

The closure isn’t good news for those of us in Canada.

“At the moment none of us really know, and depending on where you happen to live in the world the scenario will play out very differently in terms of whether you will still be able to access the live coverage via other associated platforms or apps. Most road.cc readers will still be able to access all the same cycling content as before via Warner Bros. Discovery platforms, with the same roster of presenters and commentators – however, it could be far more complicated for those living outside of Europe and in the US, who have come to rely on GCN+ after many years of virtually no live coverage or even online highlights being available elsewhere in some regions.”

It’s been a great way to watch bike racing as well as documentaries about the sport of cycling. Sarah is nervous. She’s been a big fan of the coverage of women’s bike racing offered by GCN+. She signed up during the pandemic and has enjoyed following the races.

So this weekend, both still feeling a bit worse for wear, we decided to check out some of GCN+’s documentaries while we still have access to the streaming service.

First, we watched NORSEMAN: THE WORLD’S TOUGHEST TRIATHLON.

“Every year, 300 of the world’s wildest triathletes descend on the fjords of Norway to take part in the toughest race of their lives. The Norseman Xtreme Triathlon includes a 3.8km swim in icy waters, a 180km bike ride with 5000 metres of climbing, and finally a marathon up a mountain. We follow 3 competitors as they make their way through this epic challenge. Alan Hovda, a 3-time race winner who is chasing his 4th victory; GTN’s own Mark Threlfall, an ex-professional who has always had his eyes on this event, but who has never before competed in an iron man distance event, and Ole Peder Moe who despite challenging family circumstances puts in the race of his life with some emotional consequences.”

While this falls into the category of things you couldn’t possibly imagine ever doing (for me at least), it’s shocking how many people want to give it a go. There’s a lottery–232 spots and more than 8000 applications.

Even the start of this race is terrifying. Swimmers take a ferry in the dark into a beautiful fjord and then (this is the worst bit) jump off the back of the ferry from what looks like a great height and bob about in freezing water until the start gun after 15 minutes or so. Brrrr.

It’s all stunningly beautiful in that harsh Norwegian way. I really want to visit there and ride bikes.

The bike is a lot of climbing, and then the run ends by racing up a mountain. The documentary follows three participants, including a GCN commentator, who got to forgo the lottery because of the documentary but who had never done an iron distance triathlon of any sort before.

We enjoyed the documentary, though we wished they’d shown some of the women competitors. Even though only 15% of the participants are women, it would have been nice to hear from them in the documentary.

Then after a short break, we watched BREAKING THROUGH: THE RISE OF AFRICAN CYCLING

“In a new GCN+ documentary, the story of African cycling is brought into focus with a look at the Tour of Rwanda, the young riders that are inspired by the Black African trail blazers in Europe and what riders like Girmay can mean for the future of African competition. In the documentary, GCN speaks with so many different voices, including Girmay, Doug Ryder and Chris Froome, involved with bringing African cycling to global prominence, while showing the vivacity of the racing in the continent at the Tour of Rwanda.

Furthermore, with the continent having a higher percentage of unpaved roads than paved, the documentary highlights the work of the well funded Team Amani and the Migration Race. Team Amani goes even outside of cycling with its work with African riders on nutrition and academic education.”

We enjoyed the documentary but again, not shocking, I wish they’d paid more attention to the women riders. I loved the section on Diane Ingabire the best.

Diane Ingabire

You can watch a trailer for the documentary here.

fitness · Guest Post · race report · racing · triathalon

Racing at IRONMAN Lake Placid (Guest Post)

maclachlancheryls

Last weekend, I participated in IRONMAN Lake Placid. It was my third IRONMAN and I went into the weekend feeling strong but also keeping in mind the course was hard and in long races, nothing feels guaranteed.

A sea of swim caps just before the swim start with Mirror Lake looking calm.

There are a few things that reliably help me through a long swim, one of them being a reminder that when I was a kid you could not get me out of the water! I know lots of triathletes just aim to survive the swim, but I’m usually able to enjoy it at least a little. Mirror Lake was a beautiful spot to swim 3.8km, and while I wasn’t able to use the cable much and found myself butting up against lots of (at the time, annoying) swimmers despite the rolling start, I found a decent rhythm in the swim. Later, I was pleased to see I took a little bit of time off my last IRONMAN swim time. Regular swimming with Balance Point Triathlon has given me a lot more confidence in the swim over the past few years and other than some super painful chafing on my neck (there’s a first for everything!), I’ll look back on the swim with fond memories of a solid warmup (1:11:34) for the long day ahead.

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Enjoying the bike course on both laps 1 and 2 even though it got rainy.

After going on a few trips to train in the big hills/mountains, riding portions of the bike course, driving the bike course, listening to podcasts and watching videos about the terrain, asking anyone who’d offer advice, and purchasing ~a bajillion dollars in upgrades to my bike set-up, I felt as ready as I could be for the bike portion of IRONMAN Lake Placid. Turns out, the challenge was “just right” and I loved watching people fade on the second lap. I faded too, but when it started pouring rain on the climb back in, I remembered the rides I’d done in the similarly pouring rain at home and hoped any 35-39-year-old women out there (stayed safe but) slowed down.

The climbs weren’t the only thing that were absolutely breathtaking–the scenery was postcard beautiful nearly the whole time and the descent into Keene I’d worried about for weeks was scary but as I hit 76km/hr on my skinny (but tubeless and new!) tires I was so grateful for plenty of space from my fellow racers, my new bike and the experiences I’ve had on bikes in hilly places over the last decade or so. I hated watching my average speed drop on the backside of the course, but I felt so strong on the flats and was warned about that dropoff! The backdrop of towering Whiteface Mountain and knowing that Brent climbed it just for training a few days before inspired me, too, and gave me some perspective that while the course was tough, it was in the realm of appropriately challenging. I got to see my non 35-39-year-old women friends (mostly as they passed me–way to go!) and other than some blatant drafting that set the obsessive rule-follower in me off, I had the kind of bike I could only hope for. I assumed I’d gone slower (6:13:26) here than last year on the also-challenging-but-maybe-not-quite-as-challenging IRONMAN Mont Tremblant bike course, but turns out that was a PR. Amazing what hard work and about ~$10,000 in upgrades can get you!

Heading out on the first lap, smiling about the downhill start.

In any race, I worry (a lot) about (a lot of) things–from losing my goggles or drowning in the swim to getting a flat tire or crashing on the bike–so I’m always a bit relieved to get to the run and only have to worry about moving forward on my own two feet. With that in mind, I started the run happy to be off the bike. Even though I knew I might fade later, I went with the good feeling and let it rip. Between spectators hitting the nail on the head with their Goggins-inspired encouragement and fellow runners I chatted with on the first loop, it was easy to smile for the cameras! In the back of my mind, I knew I had some work ahead of me and if I’m being honest, the hill I was dreading on the way back into town was every bit as hard as I thought it would be–yowzer! 

Looking a little bit more tired but giving the thumbs up heading uphill on lap 2.

On lap 2, I felt the twinge of cramps. I held them off by slowing, doing the math on how slow I could go and still hit my (arbitrary, ambitious, motivating) goal of averaging <6:00/km. At one point, I rubbed some of my base salts on a nasty wetsuit burn on my neck to distract myself from the cramps. Boy, did that remind me that things could get worse! The scenery, especially the ski jumps in the distance, and the shared suffering with other racers got me through the long out and back, as did thinking on purpose about friends and family–and drinking coke at every aid station. Seeing my friends, telling strangers they looked good, and reminding myself out loud that “it’s not supposed to be easy!” helped, too. My coach Ang’s reminder that “suffering is a privilege” helped me push myself instead of shying away from the challenge. I spent a while imagining my dog Walter pulling me by his leash before tackling that darn hill one more time! Luckily, the love of my life and total hunk Brent was stationed mid-ascent with one of my favourite songs in the world playing for me. Better yet, he let me know that I was fairly firmly setting myself up to finish 10th in my AG–good enough (in the Women for Tri era, but more to explore and unpack there!) for a Kona qualifier. From there, I felt lighter in my step and had to remind myself to enjoy the last mile, taking some time to let it all soak in. 

In the finisher chute.

As a girl who cited period cramps and walked off the track the day we ran the mile in 9th grade gym class, I always draw strength from looking back on my journey to the point where I’ll pay lots of money to run lots of miles. As cheesy as it sounds, as I ran to the finish line, I thought on purpose about how proud of that young girl I am for the progress she’s made and the woman I’ve become. I somehow held it together at the finish line (4:09:13 marathon, which works out to 5:56/km) and almost argued with Brent (sorry, honey–you’re the best!) when he told me my finishing time and that I’d PR’d across the board and overall (11:42:19). 

Tired but happy to finish, get a medal and sit down!

I am so grateful for the way that my person (Brent), my coach, my tri club, my friends, coworkers and family have supported and encouraged me and for the opportunity to choose to suffer in this sport. As I’ve said before, I love to see what I can get out of myself and racing helps me do that. Can’t wait to do it again (after some recovery and some heat-training) in just under 12 weeks. 

If IMLP is on your maybe list, move it to your must-do and get training–it’s no joke! 

Cheryl MacLachlan is an endurance athlete, teacher and coach living in London, ON. She is always looking for another bike and loves her dog Walter, books and writing.

Belgian shot-putter Jolien Boumkwo. Meet our newest sports hero: Jolien Boumkwo, Belgian shot-putter and substitute hurdler
competition · femalestrength · fitness · racing · team sports

Meet our newest sports hero: Jolien Boumkwo, Belgian shot-putter and substitute hurdler

catherine w6 Comments

Hey y’all– in case you’re in need of some happy, joyful, positive news today: look no further. Meet Jolien Boumkwo, Belgian shot-putter and all-around good egg. She literally embodied the spirit of teamwork on Saturday at the European Championships in Track and Field. How did she do this? By winning her shot-putting competition? Nope. She finished seventh, which is excellent. But no, it wasn’t that.

Boumkwo ran the hurdles race even though she is not a hurdler, but in fact a shot putter (completely different skillsets, I’m told). Why did she do it? Because: a) no one else on her team was available (due to injuries); and b) they needed someone in the race in order: b1) not to get disqualified from continued competition; and b2) get one point for their team in the hopes of not getting relegated from Division 1.

So Boumkwo did it. Here is the race. Watch it; you’ll be glad you did.

Shot putter Jolien Boumkwo, running carefully and powerfully over hurdles on her way to a team point for Belgium.

I love it that she’s tall enough basically to step over the hurdles and that she’s being careful not to get injured. It’s also nice (and appropriate) that she got high fives and handshakes from some of the other hurders after the race.

For contrast, here’s what Boumkwo doing what she’s trained to do.

Jolien Boumkwo, poetry and strength and precision in motion.

In her spare time, Boumkwo throws hammers, too. Note how far this one goes.

I came across the story in the New York Times, and of course the commenters had plenty to say. The comments were about equally divided between congratulations and thanks to her for demonstrating the spirit of teamwork, and shared anecdotes of cases where folks substituted in a not-their-sport competition and took one for the team. There were high jumpers who tried pole vaulting, hurdlers who tried relay races, swimmers who tried diving, and so on. They all said it gave them an appreciation for others’ talent and a feeling of team unity.

Or course there was one crabby person who said Boumkwo’s performance was embarrassing. Naturally, the rest of us piled on, replying that they were quite mistaken. Here’s what I added:

Her team needed someone in the race to get a point, and she volunteered (obviously with the approval of her coaches). It was heartening to see her, a champion athlete in her own right, put her ego aside to move safely and strongly through the race on behalf of her team. It wasn’t embarrassing– not to her, not to her competitors, not to her team, not to me, and not to other sports fans. It was joyful, smile-inducing, and inspiring in the best ways.

I assume you agree, FIFI readers?

Have I missed any other heroes this week? Let us know. Or tell us about your favorite moments of team participation.

fitness · race report · racing · running

On the Beauty of the Pace Rabbit

Sam B1 Comment

By Alison Conway

For Jamie

Last Sunday, I ran my first Half Marathon in thirty-nine months. I was very, very nervous: it had been a long time since I tried to hold any kind of race pace for more than 10 km. I decided I would put my trust in the Pace Rabbits holding the 1:50 sign. Usually I’m not a fan—I don’t like the crowd around the Rabbits and want my watch to set the pace, not theirs. But this time out, I wanted to avoid looking at my watch, to run by feel and just hold steady.

Immediately, I liked my Rabbits. They made the pace feel effortless and the woman’s strong legs had an easy cadence. They were great on the hills—“We’re going to run this together”—and good at negotiating water stations. They didn’t talk too much. I kept my eye on the dark pony tail in front of me and remembered to breath. I thought about how the race might feel for the Rabbits. Presumably, the pace was not demanding for them, but they had to hold those signs and check the times written on their arms and compare their watches while making encouraging noises to the small pack behind them. They had given up a race day of their own to make someone else’s day better.

After the race, I thanked them. And then I suddenly realized that I knew the woman from Before Times. Before Covid cancelled Boston, before an injury robbed me of hope, for a while, and eighteen months of running, there had been a woman at races in Kelowna who ran ahead of me. I had tried to catch her but never could. She was training as a massage therapist and spent two years in my valley before returning to her home town. We had talked. And now, here she was: Jamie Komadina.

To say that it felt miraculous to have the past meet the present on the streets of Vancouver is to understate how comforted I was to see Jamie’s face again. She told me about her recent Boston marathon odyssey l (travel horrors, a sudden flu, and the miracle of making it to the start line) and how she hoped to run it again. “Boston 2025!” And there it was: the future. With strong legs and an easy cadence.

We all should have a Pace Rabbit in our lives. Someone who makes the hard things easier, who gives up time in the limelight so that others can have theirs. Someone who opens the door to the future and says, “Look!”

We all should have a Pace Rabbit in our lives, so that we can learn to be one in turn.

Photo description: Alison and her Pace Rabbit, Jamie Komadina, at the finish line of the BMO Vancouver Half Marathon.

Alison Conway works and runs in Kelowna, BC.

fitness · racing · running · training

Run for Retina Research: Last year of a great local event

Tracy I1 Comment
My team, RunFam, at the Run for Retina Research. Five runners standing arm in arm, smiling, from left right: short-haired woman (Pat) with sunglasses on and bib number 297, man (Kevin) with a black ball cap and tank and bib number 296, man (Ed) with black ball cap, woman (Tracy) with black ballcap and sunglasses and tank with bib number 192, blond-haired woman (Julie) wearning subglasses and a tank and leaning in, bib number 248
Image description: My team, RunFam, at the Run for Retina Research. Five runners standing arm in arm, smiling, from left right: short-haired woman (Pat) with sunglasses on and bib number 297, man (Kevin) with a black ball cap and tank and bib number 296, man (Ed) with black ball cap, woman (Tracy) with black ballcap and sunglasses and tank with bib number 192, blond-haired woman (Julie) wearning subglasses and a tank and leaning in, bib number 248.

On Sunday I did the Run for Retina Research 10K. It’s an event that has been running for 20 years, with options for 5K, 10K, or a half marathon. I’ve done it many times (including in October 2022), and it is known locally as a fun race where you usually get an extra jacket or technical top. It’s also for a really good cause in support of urgent eye care at one of our hospitals.

But oh wow what a brutal 10K it was. I have done other 10Ks without training enough, but I don’t think I’ve ever before been untrained quite to this degree. And of course we would be having unseasonably warm weather for April.

Despite that it was a tough slog and I ran most of it on my own, with my music and my inner voice vacillating between “why are you doing this?” and “you can do this!” it actually turned out to be all-in-all a fun day for the RunFam.

Our team was the second highest fundraising team of the event. We deserve to feel good about this considering that across all the distances there were 700 participants.

We all finished even though we didn’t feel super-prepared. For me, it was my 10K PW (“personal worst”) but oh well. I am not in the shape that I used to be and I didn’t train consistently, so to expect anything more would have been to believe in miracles. That said, I am now feeling inspired for the next event, the Shoppers Drug Mart sponsored Women’s Run on June 11th. Maybe this time, an upcoming race will be the training goal I need to actually get me out the door for regular training. The Run for Retina was supposed to function in that same incentivizing way but it didn’t. But that doesn’t mean the next challenge won’t.

It’s also just fun to get out and do things with others, even if I score a PW instead of a PB. And I’m happy we took part in the last ever Run for Retina Research. Based on the jackets hanging in my closet and the one long-sleeved jersey, I can see that I’ve done it four times. The latest jacket is quite lovely, a white and grey zip-up that fits well and looks quite smart.

I know lots of people who don’t like doing events that travel the same routes that they do on a regular basis. It’s great to do destination events, but I actually enjoy the simplicity of keeping it local and I like contributing to London, Ontario’s vibrant running community. We are incredibly fortunate to have pathways all along the river, and somehow on race day those well-travelled routes feel different and more alive.

How do you feel about local events?

fitness · racing · triathalon

Kincardine Women’s Triathlon Is Kind of Back (new name, new location)

Tracy I
Image description: logo with three black horizontal lines sloping upward, getting progressively shorter, over top of the words “lakeshore women’s TRIATHLON”

Ah! The memories! If you’ve been with us from the very beginning, you might remember that my “fittest by 50 challenge” was to do an Olympic distance triathlon (and I did two of them). That goal arose out of my first triathlon experiences at a very friendly women’s event, welcoming to beginners: The Kincardine Women’s Triathlon.

I signed up at Sam’s urging, during the annual sign-up frenzy (spots always used to fill within 2-3 hours of registration opening) on January 1st, never having done a triathlon before. It gave me a training goal the very prospect of which filled me with fear and awe. It got me training. And even though the swim was cancelled, turning it into a run-bike-run event (First Triathlon Try: The Tri That Wasn’t).

The following year I was more prepared, after a winter and spring of training with a club. I had a better sense of my ability and a much stronger run. The swim wasn’t cancelled and I had a nicer bike. The bike was still my weakest event, but I had a good day nevertheless. My race report for 2014 is here. A year later we went back as a group again: Road Trip! Sam, Tracy, and their badass friends and relatives head off to the Kincardine Women’s Triathlon.

Well the triathlon has now moved from Kincardine to Saugeen Shores. It has changed its name and is no longer in July. But it promises the same welcoming, friendly, encouraging vibe. If you are interested, sign-ups for the Lakeshore Women’s Triathlon in Saugeen Shores on August 12 are coming up: registration opens on March 18, 2023. If it is anything like before, registration will also close on March 18, a few hours after it opens. They haven’t posted details yet beyond saying registration is limited to 300 people and that it opens at 10 a.m. on March 18th. You can keep an eye on their webpage here.

My triathlon days are behind me, but I can’t deny that triathlon is great fun, especially when it’s new and exciting. Back then, heading into our Fittest by 50 Challenge, it really mobilized my motivation for training and my enthusiasm for challenging goals that were new and a bit scary. If you’ve been tinkering with the idea of giving it a go, I can’t recommend this event enough.

fitness · Guest Post · injury · mindfulness · racing · triathalon

Pause and Ponder (guest post)

catherine w

This is a reblog of a newsletter post from the Rockvale Writers’ Colony by Sandy Coomer, its founder and director. Note: I’ll be there for a two-week writing residency in mid-October! She has things to say about what happened when she had to take a pause from life as usual. I’ll let her take it from here. -catherine

Anyone who knows me well knows I’m very active and busy. That’s my natural tendency. When I rest, I’m often thinking of and planning for the next burst of energy required for the next new project or idea. It’s hard for me to slow down. In fact, I rarely stop for long . . . unless I’m forced to. Funny how that works. When it’s necessary to pause, when I’m required to stop my busy enterprises, I’m pleasantly surprised at how refreshing it is to simply “Be.”

I had a triathlon race in Wisconsin this past weekend. I had a good swim and was at mile 15 of the bike when a pedestrian/spectator ran onto the bike course and we collided. The collision made me crash head-first into a parked pickup truck. The moments that followed were interesting. I was unable to say where I was or what my name was. I didn’t feel panic – just a sort of confused wonder at what I was doing on the road. I knew I was in a race, but I had no idea where. When someone told me I was in Wisconsin, I remember thinking, “How in the world did I get to Wisconsin?” Within a few more minutes, I remembered everything, and then I was whisked away to the emergency room.

I’m not badly hurt, but I will need a few weeks to heal from my injuries. It’s a forced pause, a slow-down to allow my body to heal and my concussion-addled brain to steady. Living in the still air of patience and acceptance is a lesson in a different sort of fortitude than the one I’m used to. It wasn’t in my plans to get hurt, but the hurt came anyway, and it’s my responsibility now to see what I can learn from it. Otherwise, the experience is wasted.

Here’s what I’m discovering from my forced “Pause.”

  1. People matter more than anything else. So many people have taken the time to check on me and see if I need anything. Am I attentive to others’ needs when I’m in “Busy” mode? Can I take a moment every day to tune into another person’s heart and say “I see you, you matter?” 
  2. Being still teaches a certain kind of balance which can lead to delight. I sat on my back porch yesterday and watched the afternoon fade into dusk. Two chipmunks were chasing each other from the porch to the grass and into the burrow under the shed. I felt like I was a crucial part of this scene. I belonged in an intricate way to the wonders of nature. I didn’t move or direct anything. I simply was there.
  3. Letting go of perfectionism is the key to being satisfied. I was sorely disappointed I didn’t finish the race. I kept replaying the details of the wreck in my head over and over. What did I do wrong? What should I have done differently? Sometimes, stuff happens that we can’t control. Sometimes, we simply have to accept the drama of the day and move on with gratitude.
  4. Beauty exists in every situation if you stay open to it. As I was being driven from the ER back to my hotel, I noticed the light glinting off the water of the lake, little cups of sparkle and glee. I thought, “how beautiful.” Back at home, I settled into my own comfortable bed with its floral comforter and sage green pillows and I thought, “how lovely.” Do I even notice this when I’m focused on all I need to get done?

When I think about my writing, I realize that if I get too focused on the achievement aspect and forget the beauty of each moment, I can miss the whole point of writing entirely. I write because I have something valuable to say. My writing comes from my soul, not my ambition. Remembering that is what will keep me at the page. 

A “Pause,” forced or chosen, can be a time of pondering and eventually, great insight. If we believe every situation has a purpose and a lesson, we’re more apt to let experiences teach us and take the lessons to heart. Yes, we learn a lot from work, but we learn equally from not working, from pausing our “Go” button, and simply allowing the universe to share its infinite wisdom. I would not have chosen to wreck in the race, but I AM choosing to ponder the Pause, the Moment, the Wonder of Being Here Right Now. 

It’s something I’m glad I didn’t miss.

-sandy

cycling · racing · Zwift

Do you Zwift? Want to give racing a try?

Sam B
Team TFC

There’s space on my team which is competing in the Zwift Racing League’s Tuesday night series. We’re a D team. The races are at 730 pm and you don’t need to commit to every week. Indeed if our roster is full we might need to have some people sit out some weeks. Don’t worry. We’re a ways to go from that.

The team takes virtual riding seriously but we’re also about having fun. The goal is to learn and get better in a supportive environment.

I think it’s fun. Message me if you’re into Zwifting, think you might like to give racing a try, and you’re a Category D rider.

Here are some steps for getting started.

competition · fitness · racing · Zwift

When is a race not a race? When it’s a ride. But don’t worry Zwift has lots of room for non racing, competitive impulses…

Sam B1 Comment

I’m riding the Tour of Watopia right now–having finished the Tour de Zwift last month, and in each event–in the chat waiting for the event to start, along with all of the cheers from various locations around the world–someone inevitably asks, “Is this a race?”

Answers appear fast and furious in the chat. On the one hand, it’s a tour, not a race. On the other hand, many people like to treat it as a race and think of themselves as racing. But thinking of yourself as racing doesn’t make an event a race and inevitably there’s conflict between those on the official line–it’s a tour, not a race–and those who like to treat the tours as races.

Some people think that any time there are two or more people riding bikes, it can be treated like a race. Now that’s obviously false because group rides are definitely not races. It’s rude to treat a co-operative group ride like a race. That’s bad form both in the real world and in Zwift. Group rides are not races. In Zwift, there are ride leads, with a yellow beacon, who ride at the front, and sweeps, with a red beacon, who ride at the back. In the real world, it’s also dangerous to treat a ride like a race.

Some events are clearly not races, see group rides above, and other events are clearly races. Events organized as races and as advertised as races–are definitely races. In Zwift, races use Zwiftpower for official results. There are rules that need to be followed, such as riding in the right category, sharing correct weight information, having a verifiable power source, or you risk disqualification. There are also rules for that particular race such as points for fastest through a segment, or first to the top of a KOM. For my guide to beginning racing on Zwift, see here.

Zwift’s Tours are not the usual group rides–no leads, sweeps, or advertised pace–and they also are not races.

Here’s the description, “The Tour of Watopia is a multi-stage journey on Zwift. All 5 stages will earn you double XP, shorthand for Experience Points. Collect enough XP and you’ll level up in the game. With new levels, come new in-game routes, products, and/or clothes.”

Q: Will there be races during the Tour?

A: No, but you are welcome to run/ride as fast as you like. These are group events and event results won’t be displayed at the end.

There’s actually a philosophical point here about the meaning of terms, and ‘race’ is ambiguous between meaning something that individuals do and an ‘event.’ Some people want to say that you can’t individually race unless the other person, or persons, you’re racing against agree to race. One way for sure to know they’ve all agreed is that you are taking part in a racing event.

You might know the frustration of not racing when others think you are. I used to be amused by guys passing me on the bike path and occasionally making comments about my go-fast bike going slowly, when I thought what I was doing was obeying the bike path speed limit of 20 km/hr. They thought we were racing and I thought I was riding inside the rules of the road.

On my former bike club’s weekend social rides we didn’t race–except for town sign sprints–and people who treated our club ride like a race, pushing the pace past our advertised speed were invited to come out for weeknight races. If you want to race, we have races, but this isn’t it.

Back to the Zwift tours, I think they are a bit like Grand Fondos–mass participation cycling events with the motto, let the racers race and let the riders ride. I blogged about the MEC one here, the Niagara Falls one here, and the County one here.

Zwift has a fair bit of activity that falls in the middle, things that aren’t official races and aren’t group rides either. For example, the leaderboards for KOMs and sprints when you’re just riding in the world, compare your time to everybody else’s. You might be trying to get the fastest sprint time while others are riding through the segment as part of their recovery ride. You’re racing in the sense that we might say we ‘race for the bus’ if we’re late in the morning. You’re racing but the bus isn’t.

Like Gran Fondos they provide for competitive opportunities for people with a competitive streak who don’t want, for whatever reason, to take part in organized races.

A screenshot of a Zwift ride.