cycling · fitness · race report · racing · running · swimming · triathalon

IRONMAN Women’s World Championship (Guest Post)

After a busy season of racing plenty of IRONMAN races in 2023, I was super excited to receive an email inviting me to compete at Worlds in Nice, France this year (based on IRONMAN’s “All World Athlete” age group ranking/points system). The following is a detailed recap of the day, which was September 22!

Swim šŸŠā€ā™€ļø

After months of anticipation, training and nerves, as we hopped into the water to wait for the start, I felt surprisingly calm. Making it to the start line of a big race is an accomplishment in and of itself, let alone a world championship race on another continent! āœˆļø

I started the day anxious to get going, but reminded myself there’s literally nothing I’d rather be doing than an IRONMAN. Lifeguards and fellow triathletes to share the swim with, a beautiful bike course with professional photographers along the way and a marathon run with ample cheerleaders and ā€œbuffet stationsā€ every couple of kilometers? Nothing to worry about except getting myself across that line? There’s nothing better than race day! šŸŽ‰

Though I felt pretty calm, the same can’t be said for the water of the Mediterranean Sea. Still a deep and beautiful blue, we had our first taste of what I’d call the day’s moody (but totally welcome!) weather in the swim. 🌊 I’d done some practice swimming but never too far from shore, so I wasn’t sure if the swells were par for the course or a special race day treat. At any rate, I loved the challenge! I could sight the buoys, for the most part. There were no jellies. 🪼 I started a bit back and it took me a while to find feet, but I liked the way the 3.8km were split up into an M shape. As the first age group to go, we had the course to ourselves! When things are rough in a swim, I tell myself that I’m lucky because I, for the most part, can think of a rough swim like a mosh pit and y’all know how I feel about that! šŸ¤˜šŸ¼

I wrote before about how I felt like the pressure was off for this race. In all honesty, nobody really puts pressure on an age grouper the way we put it on ourselves. Entering this race, I didn’t look at my previous stats. This meant I wasn’t sure if I’d swam better or worse than my previous best, which I came close to but not quite on the day! The win for me—and the reason I was smiling—was that I really felt I’d done my best and done it with the positive attitude I knew I’d need going into the bike. 🄹

Bike

If you know me, you know I love biking. šŸ’•šŸš² That being said, seven hours is a long time to do anything, even if you love it! My game plan was to ride smart—pace myself through the climbing in the first 100k and make sure I fueled and kept in mind that I had a marathon to run yet. My coach said I could put out a bit of extra power on the climbs but to be honest, I mostly spun and enjoyed the scenery. ā›°ļø

I’d be lying if I said I paced the bike so well that the entire 180k was sunshine and roses. My neck hurt, I had a headache, I nearly missed bike special needs and the wind in the portion of the course after 100k that was described to me as ā€œlike a normal IRONMAN courseā€ was incessant. But just as I was riding into that headwind, wondering how much of a refund I could get for my 2025 IRONMAN Lake Placid registration, we came to the most beautiful descent of the day. Just like that, I was back to loving biking again. šŸ˜‚ I’d worried about it being busy or sketchy on the descents but the course was well-marked and the women I rode near were solid. I had tears in my eyes when this photo was taken because I was overwhelmed by the beauty of it all! 🄹 The gratitude I have for the places biking and endurance sports have taken me keeps growing. From what started as a love of spin classes that led to buying my first road bike ~15 years ago, it’s been quite the ride! ✨ In what felt like no time, I was back on the promenade, contemplating that marathon next on my to-do list.

PS Not only was I grateful to have my bike, which arrived a day and a half after I did, but man was I grateful for my disc brakes on the descents, the extra gears I added for this race on the climbs and my aero bars in that midride wind. šŸ«¶šŸ¼šŸš²šŸ«¶šŸ¼ Also, a highlight I need to share was being able to call out my bib number en francais at the special needs stop with success. 🄐

Run

They’re all tough.

Last year in Kona, I found the run mentally hard, running to a turnaround at ~30km. In Nice, the marathon’s entirely along the flat, seaside Promenade des Anglais, involving four trips to the airport (~5k out/5k back). My other IRONMANs had 2-loop runs with variation, so I wasn’t sure what I’d make of Nice. I hoped I’d appreciate the flat ground and cheering, but wasn’t naive enough to think it would be ā€œeasyā€.

I have a feeling if I asked a bunch of triathletes which course they prefer, they’d be split. They’d also likely complain about both. My goal is to stay away from that. I loved the energy from spectators, seeing Brent and my Tres Pinas peeps multiple times. I was also able to break it into obvious chunks. The 1st lap, I planned to go for a jog and keep my HR low. ā™„ļø The 2nd lap, I’d spin my hat around (channeling my athletic alter ego who doesn’t get tired and loves competing) and settle in. The 3rd lap, I’d add cola 🄤and walk the aid stations. The 4th lap, when the sun would be just about set, I planned to push to the finish line.

For the most part, this worked out. By the end of the 3rd lap, though, I had some cramping (the stomach kind and in one calf and then the other), so picking it up didn’t really happen. I had a buffer to come in under 13 hours, a pretty arbitrary target but one that motivated me. I was pleasantly surprised at how little I felt my nagging niggles and was mostly able to fuel throughout. It really was my legs that ran out of steam, and no wonder after that bike! Seeing people head to the finish line as I started another lap was hard, but people just coming off the bike were reminders we all wish we were in someone else’s (faster) shoes. The run out on the 4th lap felt longggg, but on the way back, ā€œfinallyā€ heading towards the finish line, I dedicated a km to Brent (I couldn’t have done this without him!) and one to the memory of my mom to move me forward. I got ā€œfinish line feelsā€ early on and felt some big emotions in that dark finish chute. IRONMAN marathons may always be tough, but that’s what makes that red carpet so meaningful. šŸ’ŖšŸ¼

Final Thoughts

A week after the race, home and almost over the jet lag, it all feels a bit like a dream. In previous races, I’ve raced immediately to focusing on what I could do better. With this race, I felt surprisingly content. I loved racing in France, sharing the course with an amazing field of women and taking on a challenging bike that I knew would mean I’d likely have a slower finishing time than my most recent races. I’m still remembering and reflecting on the experience each day but am heading into this offseason with a big sense of accomplishment and gratitude!

STEPHEN_COX_PHOTO
competition · cycling · fitness · running · swimming · triathalon

Pain is just French for bread, an IRONMAN race report (Guest post)

by Cheryl MacLachlan

I went into IRONMAN World Championship in Nice, France knowing that the demanding bike ride might make my 5th IRONMAN my slowest, something I found strangely freeing. šŸ¤·šŸ»ā€ā™€ļø

While I was nervous, I found myself coming into the day with an approach opposite of what a lot of people would expect at a world championship. Rather than attempt to ā€œleave it all out thereā€, I went in telling myself that I was just going for a little dip in the ocean and a toodle on my bike in the mountains, followed by an evening jog. šŸŠā€ā™€ļøšŸš“ā€ā™€ļøšŸƒšŸ½ā€ā™€ļøā€āž”ļø

I had fun in the wavy ocean swim in my wetsuit.šŸ¤™šŸ¼ I surprised even myself when I was able to hold onto that vibe even as plenty of women passed me on the bike, many huffing and puffing up the mountains on the bike course. I enjoyed passing some of them back on the descents, which were my favourite part of the day. šŸ”„ Then, I went into the run and did it my way. šŸš‚

Cheryl on the run leg of the IRONMAN in Nice

At times, I like to experiment and see what happens if I push and dare to blow up. I understand the desire to seek your limits, but in a race as long as an IRONMAN, sometimes that looks like holding yourself back—a skill that takes a lot of self-control and confidence. One of the things I’m most proud of in this sport is the ability to be consistent. This finish at 12:50:21 is in between my other finishing times and perhaps this is the race I feel I did the best job of staying positive and executing the way I wanted to. I strive to stay humble and of course there are things I can improve, but man this one feels good! Don’t worry, though, it still hurt. šŸ„–

I’m so grateful for how things came together, for everyone who wished me luck and tracked me, for @brent315 nailing his support duties and for the community of @teamtrespinas šŸ’•šŸšŸ«¶šŸ¼. Yesterday was about celebrating what my body is capable of, enjoying the scenery and saving something so I could not just finish, but finish joyfully. āœ…

Cheryl on her tri bike. Zoom zoom!

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.

competition · cycling · fitness · Guest Post · running · swimming · triathalon

Does comparison have to be the thief of joy? (Guest post)

by Cheryl MacLachlan

“Comparison is the thief of joy.ā€ You might have heard it before, but does it have to be the case? šŸ’”

As I load up on my final carbs and tuck in for bed before taking on the challenge of the IRONMAN World Championship in Nice, France tomorrow, I can’t help but reflect. šŸšŸ’­

It takes bravery to show up to any race, let alone a World Championship. I’m humbled by the women I’ve met here—the one who podiumed at Kona last year, the one who qualified in her first race, the one who’s on her 18th IRONMAN. I’m surrounded by some of the most dedicated and accomplished athletes in the world! 🤩

With that—not to mention some of the bikes and shoes and bodies on these women—it’s easy to slip into comparison, wondering if I really belong here. But instead, I’ve been working on using comparison as a source of inspiration, seeing those amazing women I’ll share the course with as examples of what’s possible. 🄹

With that, I’ve had practice. I’m so grateful for the impressive female athletes in my life who I call my friends. Their success doesn’t diminish mine, and mine doesn’t diminish theirs. I’ve met some women who can’t train with others who are about the same or ā€œbetterā€ than them and my heart breaks for them. There’s a lot of power in celebrating each other and in finding a wolfpack! šŸ’ƒšŸ½

On that note, it’s not that I’m not competitive. I want to do my best, and I love a good PR or ranking well just as much as anyone. I really believe that, if we let it, competition brings out the best in us. Isn’t that the whole point? But at the end of the day, only one person gets to win (or one per age group, I suppose). Since the vast majority of the time, we won’t get to be that person, it’s worth considering some alternative ways of relating to competition. I think this would help more of us to step up to that oh-so-intimidating start line. šŸ’ŖšŸ¼

A student asked me recently, ā€œAre you going to win?ā€ No way, kiddo. But that’s not why I came. I came to see what I can get out of myself, and something tells me tomorrow will provide no shortage of opportunities to find out. šŸ«¶šŸ¼

#ironman#ironmanwc

@teamtrespinas @trespinas

race report · triathalon

Bettina tries tri

I’m certainly not the first fit feminist to do a triathlon – just picking the “triathlon” category on previous posts yields over 60 results. And some of them are very badass! I’ve been wanting to do a tri for a while now. In fact, in 2019 my partner gave me two books on training for a triathlon for Christmas. What did I give him? I don’t remember his “real” present, but on top of that… a positive pregnancy test. Our son was born in August 2020, amidst a pandemic, and triathlons were really not on the cards for a bit. Life was just too busy! But then early this year, a friend convinced me to sign up for a sprint tri with her. 750m swimming, 22km cycling and 5k running seemed manageable.

To be honest, I didn’t train all that much. As a swimmer “by training”, the discipline many triathletes fear the most didn’t scare me. I had a bit of a wobble when I found out the swim would be in a river rather than a pool (many sprint triathlons do the swimming leg in a pool), but hey – no time like the present to rekindle my open-water swimming skills from those beach lifeguard days 20 years ago, right? I did manage to get a few lake swims in, but for example I never once managed a “proper” brick workout, where you bike first and then run right away.

I’m also… not the world’s best runner. I can get better, as I discovered on my journey to the half marathon that never was, but I need to train very consistently and frequently. I already go swimming at least once a week, usually twice, and commute a lot by bike. But squeezing those runs in on a busy work and family schedule was a real challenge. Also, during the winter months, we were sick a lot (thanks, daycare germs). So by the time the race snuck up on me, I was feeling under-prepared and quite intimidated by the logistics of it all. I was pretty sure I’d forget something in the transition and start cycling without my shoes on, or forget to put on my helmet, or fall flat on my face while trying to wiggle out of my wetsuit. I jest, but when you read the race instructions and watch videos, it does all seem like rather a lot.

Bettina, a white woman, wearing cycling gear and pushing a bike while blowing a kiss to spectators.
Bettina, dressed in full cycling gear after the first transition (aka T1) from swim to bike, blows a kiss to her family who came out as spectators and were spectacular cheerleaders.

The thing I was most scared of was wiping out during the run. “It’s only 5k!”, my training partner (who is quite a bit more athletic than me) encouraged me. But 5k, for me, after 20k of cycling fast and hard, seemed terrifying. My longest training run had been 7k.

Well, the race happened last week – and you know what? I had So. Much. Fun!!! My favourite part was the swim for sure. As soon as I went in, I kept repeating to myself “This is your thing. This is what you’re good at” to calm my nerves and get motivated. As soon as I settled into a rhythm I started passing other swimmers, and felt great coming out of the water. The bike leg was fun too, except a couple of extremely steep (but mercifully short) hills. As expected, I found the run the hardest and was extremely grateful for the drinks station halfway through. But I finished! And contrary to all expectations, I didn’t expire on the run. I actually ran quite an ok time for my standards. Not my best but definitely better than expected!

Bettina, looking exhausted and a bit disheveled, but very happy, bites her finisher medal after the triathlon.

I definitely want to do this again. I think if I start training earlier and stay consistent (hoping for fewer daycare-induced colds for our family next season), I just might be able to do an olympic distance tri next year. I definitely need to train more systematically for that, and it might not work out. But I’d love to give it a go!

Lessons learned?

  • I can do this!
  • It was fun!
  • I want to do it again, and for longer!
  • If I want to do a longer distance, I need to train more seriously.
  • I should probably do something about my bike (learn to ride with clipless pedals, put on thinner tyres, get aero bars).
  • I should probably get a tri suit. I bought tri shorts but the bike jersey I wore for the bike and run was not optimal for running as it kept riding up.
  • Triathlons are expensive… whichever way you slice it. I bought minimal gear (wetsuit, polarised swimming goggles, a safety buoy for training, all of which which I will continue to use, tri shorts, and one of those elastic race bib holders), plus the registration fee, and adding it all up I’m now probably around more than 300 euros poorer than before. If I want to do a longer one, all the aforementioned enhancements to gear and bike will cost even more.
  • Triathlons are as time-intensive as I thought, if not more.
  • Being able to do a triathlon is a huge privilege.

I’m so glad my fit friend pushed me into this challenge – I’m not sure I would have worked up the courage on my own. Now that I’ve taken the first hurdle, doing a longer distance doesn’t seem quite so out of reach anymore. But first, I have another goal: I’ve signed up for a 4.5k open water swimming race on 1 September, so before I start tri-ing again, I’ll need to do a serious amount of swimming… once I’m over my current cold (little children really are super spreaders, and they will sneeze straight into your eyeballs, literally).

competition · cycling · family · fitness · Guest Post · racing · running · triathalon

I cannot NOT do this (Guest post)


By Janet Tufts

I was a proud ā€œDickie Chick.ā€ One of a threesome of sisters, with a dad named Dick, who participated relay-style in the 70.3 Ironman in Muskoka in 2017. One sister swam the 1.9k, the other sister biked the 90k, and I ran the 21.1k. (That’s me on the right.) 

The Dickie Chicks. Janet is on the right.


I remember flying past runners who were doing the full slog, calling out ā€œjust doing the relayā€ so they wouldn’t feel bad. As beaten up as they looked, I was strangely envious of their extra sweat, grime and grit. Fleetingly.

Running prevailed and I started to get serious about it. I raced for personal bests and prizes and bought a Garmin. About a year ago, I noticed my runs were turning into countdowns: 9k to go, 6k, 5k, 4k, 3k, 2k, done.I was also getting unnecessarily anxious before races, even before speed workouts. (Ridiculous!)

A few months ago, my oldest son announced a goal to do the Muskoka 70.3 Ironman to mark his 40th birthday.

And there it was—that fleeting feeling from seven years ago. Me? An Ironman? The feeling started to linger. It started to grow.

I did some research, talked to a few experts. Before long, I’d gone way past doing the 70.3 in cottage country at age 64. I was fantasizing about being at the 2025 Ironman 70.3 World Championships in Spain on November 8, 2025, at age 65. 

I kept things to myself. I was afraid that if the words came out of my mouth, I’d be committed.

Uncertainty swept in. I hadn’t swum lengths in four decades, not to mention my childhood trauma over cold water.

In a bold moment, I called a personal coach—Ryan Power, as good as they come. I was surprised he was keen to take on a 65-year-old female novice. You know what he said? He said that he’s currently working with seven athletes right now and two are over age 75.

Well then.

He said that an equivalent to qualifying for the world tri championships is qualifying for the Boston marathon, which I’ve done twice. 

Well then.

It’s in the cards, I said to myself. I was ready to let it out of the bag. Now I’m committed.

What has gotten into me? I prefer simplicity. What can be more complicated than a triathlon watch, or a fuel plan to sustain 8 hours of work?

I don’t really like spending money. In the last 20 days, I have spent at least $2.5k, and according to Austrian triathlete, ClĆ©ment, I can expect to spend another $3k to get myself geared up for competition, and then $2.9k in every year to follow. (Not including things like Spain.)

A bike covered in tri gear.


Worst of all, I can’t figure out the leg action to clip out of the pedals on my new road bike. 

ā€œYou’ll want to clip out with your right leg,ā€ said the bike specialist, ā€œso you can lean away from the traffic.ā€

But my right leg wasn’t working. Forget the traffic, I thought, I’m using my left.

Last week was my first official week of training. Don’t tell Ryan, but after day one, I had a stiff back. After day three, I had a bruised elbow from banging the lane ropes. And on day five, I added a scraped knee to the old bod from tipping over on my bike. (I’d clipped out—yay—but forgot to use the brakes.)

It’s week two. I can hardly wait to get going again.

Will I make it to Spain? I have no idea. But I like picturing myself crossing the finish line. If that gives me joy and motivation and a good reason to hop out of bed every morning, then why not try. Anyway, I’m 64; I can do whatever I want.

Is that the point of this endeavour? That I’ve reached the age where I can do whatever I want? Let’s think about this.

I cannot get too excited and talk about my new hobby too much or people will think I’m bragging. No one likes a braggart. Humility is the much-preferred trait, especially in the family I married into.

I cannot let myself get too exhausted. Yawning through social gatherings is equally as unattractive as bragging. And I need energy to continue baking bread, concocting hummus, and creating grandkids’ birthday cakes (another source of joy).


I cannot let my new hobby negatively impact my 42-year marriage. I cannot consume our travel budget around races; I cannot get too obsessed because that’s hard to live with; I cannot cram the drying rack with any more workout clothes; I cannot let this interfere with happy family traditions; and I certainly cannot expect a cozy night on the couch livestreaming tri championships. It’s not golf, after all.

The cannots add up, and they’re hard; I think about them all the time. But I cannot not do this or I’d be short-changing myself on something my gut is telling me to go for. Who cares if I get a little excited, exhausted and obsessed? It’s nothing that a new drying rack can’t fix. Or a glass of wine in Spain.

Lots of athletic wear on a clothes drying rack.

Janet Tufts’ bio

With over 30 years of local, national and international experience in the non-profit and public sectors, Janet is currently enjoying semi-retirement, balancing a part-time role as Executive Director of Operation Walk Canada with her love of reading, writing, baking and moving. Previously, Janet served as the Executive Director of both Big Brothers Big Sisters of London and Area and the Canadian Medical Hall of Fame.  


From 2016 to 2018, Janet spent two years in Malaysia as a member of a multi-cultural team that led the government’s implementation of their blueprint for public school transformation. Janet holds a Master’s in Business Administration, Bachelor of Education, Bachelor of Arts, and a Professional Certificate in Communications and Public Relations. She has served as a director on numerous boards, and is currently a board member of St. Joseph’s Health Care London. Janet embraces any opportunity to be part of a humanitarian mission and to date, has been to Southern Sudan, Peru and Ecuador. 

fitness · Guest Post · race report · racing · triathalon

Racing at IRONMAN Lake Placid (Guest Post)

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.

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 ā€œjust rightā€ 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 ā€œit’s not supposed to be easy!ā€ helped, too. My coach Ang’s reminder that ā€œsuffering is a privilegeā€ 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). 

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.

fitness · racing · triathalon

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

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)

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

fitness · Guest Post · triathalon

It’s just a hill, get over it

by Alison Conway


For Jennifer

I consider myself a recreational triathlete. Which is to say: I wouldn’t buy a magazine related to the sport and I don’t have a tri-bike. Sprint triathlons were what I did, in before-Covid times, to take a break from running. A recent injury, however, threw me into the pool, where I met people who are serious about their sport. Very serious. Since competitive folks are my jam, I looked forward to going to triathlons with them this summer–and also to proving to my swim coach that I had learned from his excellent instruction.

Triathlon attracts type-A people, it seems to me. So much gear to organize! Such complicated training schedules! It’s a long way from running, which requires only a pair of sneakers and a will of steel. The paradox, though, is that the triathlon event is built to thwart the same dream of mastery that motivates its participants to sign up. Every race, something goes wrong. A bike tire explodes. The water turns out to be too rough and the swim is cancelled. Etc. And so the perfectionist finds herself defeated by forces beyond her control, after months of training. At least, this is how it looks to me, from the outside.

I don’t think of myself as a perfectionist, but I’m probably somewhere within shooting distance. I’ve done my best to learn the basics of the triathlon challenge. Last weekend I carefully reviewed ā€œSummary of TriBC Rulesā€ the night before race day, including this one: ā€œIt is mandatory that the bib number be worn on the back of your body for the entire bike course.ā€ At dinner, I described the brutal hill that began the bike and run routes. One dinner guest described running a half marathon in San Francisco a while back. Half way up a steep hill was a man holding a sign, she said, that read: ā€œIt’s just a hill, get over it.ā€ We laughed and I strategized how to break down that hill.

The next morning was windy—very windy. I carefully placed my race belt with my bib under my running shoes so that it wouldn’t fly away. I came out of the water after a great swim–(thanks, Coach!)–and reminded myself: wetsuit off, shoes on, helmet on, glasses on, grab the bike. I ran down the shoot onto the road, swung my leg over the bar—and saw the racer ahead of me with his race belt on. ā€œGood god, the bib number!ā€ I ran back into transition and put my belt on, cursing my idiot self.

So much negative chatter in my head as I headed out onto the bike course! Until I met the hill. There, I remembered the race sign described the night before: ā€œIt’s just a hill, get over it.ā€ And I decided, as I toiled up that hill, to make it my mantra for the race. Get over the disappointment of a ruined bike time, get over the desire to beat myself up, get over everything except the beauty of the race course I was on and the thrill of being there, at all, after two years of pandemic. It was a beautiful morning to swim, bike, and run, and to watch my new pals from the pool race their hearts out.

The take-homes for me are these: listen carefully to women you meet at dinner parties–they may have wisdom to impart. And race day is yours to shape, whatever which way it plays out.


Race bib, number 312, Alison

Alison Conway lives and works on the unceded territory of the Syilx (Okanagan) Peoples. 

fitness · Guest Post · injury · running · triathalon

On Seeking a Second Opinion (Guest Post)

By Alison Conway

A year ago, I wrote here about an injury and dispiriting MRI results: complex and degenerative tears in both menisci. The specialist sat me down for the bad news: surgeons in my town were not going to be interested in having a look, believing that meniscus surgery puts knees at risk for joint replacement down the road. I had some questions about my injury—it didn’t fit the meniscus tear stories I had read, which included sudden pulls or twists or pops. Nor was I experiencing the usual symptoms related to meniscal injury: knee locking, clicking, giving way. But the images seemed to speak for themselves. The specialist was sorry. There you go.

As he delivered the bad news, I should have remembered that visual data is always context specific and always read through an interpretive lens. I couldn’t find my way to questioning conclusions that the MRI results seemed to underscore, but I was alert to the significance of a remark made along the way, something along the lines of, ā€œYou know, you can burn more calories riding a bike than you do running.ā€  ā€œHold up,ā€ I thought, ā€œwho said anything about calorie burning?ā€ I didn’t run to manage my weight, nor do I talk about exercise in this way. I suddenly saw myself as, I’m guessing, the specialist saw me–a middle-aged woman who jogs to keep her weight down. I became suspicious of his quick assessments and conclusions. My family doctor also had some questions. To his mind, there was no reason not to put me in front of a surgeon rather than discounting the possibility of an intervention out of hand. He agreed that a second opinion was in order.

Fast forward past the usual long wait time and I’m in front of a specialist in another city. The conclusions he draws, looking at the MRI images, are radically different. The degenerative meniscal tears, he says, are pretty run of the mill. I have probably been running with them for years. There is no need for surgery because they aren’t the cause of the injury.  He puts me through a range of tests relating to meniscal function, closely examines my gait and alignment, and then announces, ā€œPatellar tendinopathy.ā€  My gait, he points out, is slightly knock-kneed, and in the absence of strength training to support proper alignment, the tendon is aggravated by being dragged over the joint the wrong way. I had been sitting on my butt for months at the start of Covid, leaving the house only for easy runs and not much else—certainly not strength training at the gym. The knee trouble began when I ramped up to longer distances the fall of 2020.

These days I’m running again, shorter distances until I have time to undertake strength training with diligence and attention. Will I run a marathon again? I don’t know. But I do know that I was able reclaim running by advocating for myself. I thank the doctors who respected what running means to me.

I recently finished a sprint triathlon, my first in four years.  The run felt like freedom.


Picture:  AC on the podium for an AG win at the Oliver Triathlon, June 2022. 

Alison Conway trains and works on the traditional and unceded territory of the Syilx Okanagan People.