Tracy and I have written a lot on this blog about loving what you do. We’ve written about it so often that we gathered all of our posts about it in one place, here.
We were talking about “loving what you do” again yesterday in the course of working on the first draft of our book. We both think that’s an important part of sticking with fitness plans. Exercise shouldn’t be this joyless thing that you force yourself to do. But we’re less certain about the kind of enjoyment you need to take in your physical activity.
What does it mean to love what you do?
We’re philosophers so we like to critically analyze concepts and ideas. We’re not just over thinkers. We’re professional over thinkers!
Tracy and I were chatting yesterday about Ragen Chastain’s IRONMAN training. We weren’t chatting about her ability to do it. Of that we have no doubt. But why? Doesn’t she hate running and swimming?
A lifelong dancer, Ragen’s motivation comes from deliberating getting outside her comfort zone and trying to do something really hard.
On her FAQ page she addresses the IM motivation question and writes:
“Why in god’s name would you do that?
Well, when you cross the finish line they give you a medal and a guy named Mike Reilly yells “[YOUR NAME] YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!”
No, seriously. Why?
The medal/Mike Reilly thing is a big part of it, I’m not gonna lie. This is also an extension of a project that I started a couple of years ago. I’ve done a lot of athletic things in my life including sports and dance, but always stuff at which I have natural talent. I decided that I wanted to push outside of my comfort zone and do things at which I seem to have absolutely no natural ability. I did a marathon and I sucked pretty bad at that, so I basically thought – what could I suck at that’s even more terrible than a marathon – and this is what I arrived at.”
And in an interview with Today Magazine she says, “I’ve always been terrible at distance running, so training for the marathon was an attempt to push myself past my comfort zone and see what lessons there were in doing something I wasn’t good at….I spent a lot of my life dieting and waiting for another body to show up so I could do the things I want to do,” she says. “This is the body I have, so I decided to take it out for a spin.”
So maybe you don’t have to love what you do if you care enough about the goal. There’s also a wide range in the types of enjoyment we can take in different activities.As philosophers who study human happiness like to point out there’s not much that the pleasure of solving a tough math problem and the pleasure of eating a cold ice cream on a hot day have in common, other than that they’re mental states people who choose to have them want. There’s no intrinsic feature they have in common that makes both experiences pleasurable, except that they’re experiences that people who find them pleasurable want to have.
All of this is just to say that yes, do what you love. But that love can take lots of different forms, including the really tough kind of love, like love of solving hard math problems. It’s not all ice cream on a hot day.
I think it varies for different people. Some people are super determined and tough it out, either because they expect to come to love the thing or because they love some overall activity of which the unloved thing is part. I’m thinking here of Caitlin of Fit and Feminist fame and cycling. She was nervous about her road bike all the while competing in triathlons.
Now she’s over her fear but it took lots of not liking it, not being very comfortable for her to get there.
I asked Caitlin about her process and here’s what she had to say,
“I had to feel comfortable riding before I actually started liking it, and that took several months, especially once I switched to the clipless pedals. Probably the biggest thing that helped me was riding on my own, at my own pace. I actually found that riding with my husband – who is more confident and experienced on the bike than I am – was stressing me out because I felt like I had to ride at a level I just wasn’t capable of riding at, so when I made the decision to stop riding with him and to just explore biking on my own without that extra pressure, I was able to find moments of enjoyment and pleasure. Then over time I’ve found that those moments have turned into long stretches, and now I have to say I really like my time on the bike. This last weekend, when I rode more than 50 miles on a rural recreational trail, was very, very fun for me (until the end, when it mostly hurt), and it’s because I’ve finally gotten comfortable with my bike skills.
The other part of it is that I found I really liked racing bikes during triathlon. There’s something about racing that makes me kind of fearless, and I found racing on my bike – especially on courses that have a lot of turns – to be really thrilling and exciting. So because I want to be better at racing, I find I have extra motivation to spend more time on the bike.
My relationship with swimming has followed a similar trajectory. I was terrified at first but I wanted to learn how to do it, so I took baby steps at my own pace (but always making sure to push a little out of my comfort zone when possible) and over time I’ve eventually become comfortable swimming solid distances in the ocean and in lakes.
So I guess I would summarize my process as:
– Identifying that I really wanted to learn how to do something
– Giving myself time and space to do it
– Forcing myself out of my comfort zone a little at a time
– Focusing on the aspects of the activity I enjoy.”
She ended with the following observation,”It’s interesting to me to think of how many things I do that I now love that I would have never had done if I hadn’t kept at it for a while.”
How long do you give it? Again that varies person to person. I’m super patient with slow progress. See all of my Aikido posts! And it’s not easy for me.
I don’t know how patient I’d be if I didn’t like something.
But there’s also different kinds of loves. My love of road cycling was love at first sight/ride love. And riding a bike still makes me feel like a child again. Whee! Zoom! See How does it make you feel?
I’ve always been a cyclist but it wasn’t until I got my first road bike, the year I turned 40, that I really fell in love with cycling.
I commuted for years, through some of undergrad, grad school, and as a tenure track faculty member. When I started running, as I approached 40, road cycling academic colleagues joked that it was time I got a “real bike.”
When running led to triathlon, I did just that. It turned out I was a much faster cyclist than a runner from the very first time out. I was surprised to find myself passing many of the people from my triathlon clinic who I rarely saw when we were out there running, they were so far ahead. What I hadn’t realized is that I’d been “training” for years, riding a bike to and from work, and later towing a trailer full of babies and toddlers.
And I hadn’t quite appreciated, as a larger runner, how much harder I was working than the little people I ran with. At the same speed, I was working a lot harder than them. Put me on a bike, on a course without hills, and I just flew. Take away my weight as a limiting factor and I was a lot faster. That’s why I think more larger women ought to take up cycling. Speed! See Big women on bikes.
But not all loves are like that. If cycling is my head over heels excited kind of love, learning to like running took awhile. Running and I have a much more complicated relationship. Short version: I love it but it doesn’t love me back.
Lately I’ve been thinking of getting back into the pool. Why? Well, I can’t run as far as I like and I like multi sport events. The easier answer to minimize running is to add swimming. Maybe I’ll be a triathlete after all.
My transition set-up, Kincardine Women’s Triathlon 2014.As Kincardine approaches, a couple of my friends who are doing a multi-sport event for the first time have asked me about the transitions. People spend a lot of time talking about multi-sport training, but I remember like it was yesterday when, two years ago in the lead up to my first triathlon (also the Kincardine Women’s Triathlon) it dawned on me that I needed to “set up” my transition area and I had no clue what that meant.
Enter a whole new thing to worry about. So, in the hopes of fending off worries for some of the newbies out there, today’s post is about setting up the transition area and about managing the transitions as swiftly as possible (in relative terms — there will be nothing here about a running bike start in bare feet with the shoes already clipped into the pedals).
But before you get to the transition, it’s a good idea to have a checklist of what you need to pack. This one is liberally borrowed and adapted from a checklist that a friend of mine who joined a triathlon training group at our local Y gave me. I’ve added some of my own notes in square brackets and though I do not know who the author(s) of this document were, I am grateful to them for providing some guidance and for much of the content that follows (yes, I’m an academic).
For the swim: wetsuit [if you’re wearing one], goggles, swimsuit or triathlon suit, swim cap or race cap (in your race kit–you’ll only need both if the water is chilly), 2 towels (a set-up towel and a drying towel–[I have found that a small towel is good for drying]). [Note: I also need very good ear plugs because excruciating ear aches took me out of swimming for a number of years until I discovered ear plugs for swimming.]
For the bike: bike [with adequately inflated tires], helmet, socks [if wearing], bike shoes [if clipless pedals, otherwise running shoes], sunglasses, shirt if you’re riding in a swimsuit, with race # pinned to the front [I recommend a race belt because ideally your number will be in the back for the bike, the front for the run], a pump, portable flat kit on the bike [assuming you know how to change a tire, of course, since it won’t do you a whole lot of good if you don’t know how to use it], full water bottle on the bike in your water bottle holder.
For the run: running shoes, hat
Also recommended: sunscreen (sport style), water, energy drink, banana and whatever other race nutrition you like to have on hand for pre- and post-race, as well as during, duffle bag or triathlon bag for carrying everything, jacket if it’s cold, body glide (for helping with the wetsuit and also for bike shorts chamois or other sensitive areas where you might get chafing)
Optional: race belt (attach number), quick-tie shoelaces, GPS watch, garbage bags in case of rain or wet ground [I also pack a shoe horn and it saves me time because I can pre-tie my running shoe laces]
Okay, so that’s what you need to bring. I have an excellent Zoot triathlon backpack style tri-bag for toting everything. It’s got multiple compartments including a special spot for the bike helmet and another for the wetsuit.
Now it’s when I saw that list that I started to panic. But maybe you’re one of those more reasonable people who can keep in mind that knowledge is power, and knowing what to pack puts you in a better position to handle race day well.
So, as promised, here are the goods on transitions, based on my limited experience over the past couple of years.
Set-up
1. When you get to the race, the first thing you will do is rack your bike. The racks are usually grouped by event (triathlon/duathlon) and by either bib number or age group/gender. Find your rack and pick a spot. Hook your bike on the cross bar by the seat, and if there is a bike beside, hook yours in so it’s facing the opposite way (so you’re alternating sides of the rack and aren’t on top of each other during transitions).
Get a visual bearing on your location — both the location of the rack (e.g. fifth rack on the right as you come into the transition from the swim, lines up with the trash can over there) and the location of your bike within the rack (e.g. the first bike after the third post). Some people put something neon or otherwise distinctive on or near their bike so they can see it when they come in.
You also want to be clear before the race start exactly where you come in from the swim, where the bike exit is, and where the run exit is.
2. Fold your ground towel in half and lay it on the ground right beside your bike. Space is limited and you are expected not to take up a lot of space. If you look at the picture at the top of the post, that’s about all the space I had.
3. Place bike helmet, straps open and hollow side up, either on your handlebars or on the towel beside your bike, and put the sunglasses in the helmet with their arms open, ready to put on.
4. Water bottle on bike, full.
5. Shoes and socks on towel, laces undone and ready to put on (or, if you’re like me, laces done just how you want them, plus a shoe horn).
6. Shirt on towel with bib pinned to front OR if you’re wearing a suit have race belt ready with the bib number attached and the belt open, placed on your helmet or shoes.
7. Put your drying towel on the set-up so that it’s easy to grab when you get back from your swim.
8. Put your running cap or visor with your running shoes.
9. Race nutrition if needed should also be on the towel or already on your bike, ready to go. Sometimes I put an extra water bottle on the towel to grab a quick drink before heading out but I’m not sure that’s recommended since it takes up valuable transition time.
T1: Swim to Bike
1. As you’re coming out of the water, start running towards the transition. Put your goggles on your head (leave goggles and swimcap on so you have two free hands). Peel your wetsuit down to your waist. Finish taking it off when you get to your set-up. Leave it, cap and goggles on the ground beside your bike (not on the rack — that’s not allowed).
2. Step on towel to dry feet as quickly as possible (they don’t need to be perfect!) and then pull on your socks.
3. Put on your bike shoes (or running shoes)
4. Put on your t-shirt or, if wearing a tri suit, your race belt with number to the back.
5. Put on your sunglasses.
6. Don the helmet and do up the strap — you must not touch your bike until the strap is done up (doing so is grounds for disqualification).
7. Run with your bike to the “Bike Out” and when you get to the “mount/dismount line” (and not before!), cross the line, get on your bike, and ride as if someone is chasing you and you don’t want to get caught.
T2: Bike to run
1. Dismount at the dismount line (do not cross the line on your bike or you may be disqualified) and run with your bike back to your transition spot.
2. Re-rack the bike.
3. Remove your helmet (make sure you do this in the right order: re-rack the bike first, remove the helmet second)
4. Change your shoes if you’re wearing bike shoes
5. Switch your number to the front if you’re wearing a race belt
6. Grab your hat
6. Run out the “Run Out” chute. I find this is a good time to bring in positive self-talk, smile at people, and remind myself of my awesomeness for being out there and doing this!
Finish Line
The Y-group’s checklist and transition guidelines sheet says this about the finish line:
Big smile for camera and FANS You made it!! Enjoy the moment; congratulate yourself and your fellow competitors. You are now a Triathlete!
Yay you!
The finish line is for hugging friends and loved ones and fellow competitors, for photo-ops, for re-hydrating, and for finding some post-race food. At Kincardine, they always serve sausages, which, as a vegan, I don’t eat. But there is also a little snack hut on the beach and they make awesome fries. So that is my post-rate “nutrition” after Kincardine.
I hope this annotated overview helps to alleviate some stress for anyone who is doing a triathlon for the first time, including my newbie friends who are joining me at my favourite event of the season, The Kincardine Women’s Triathlon, Saturday, July 11th, 2015.
Other tips and suggestions are more than welcome! Please comment with them if you have experience to share!
There are a lot of motivational Facebook groups out there relevant to my fitness interests but the one I’m enjoying the most at the moment is the group for Athena triathletes and duathletes.
Athena group: This group is for triathletes who compete as or empathize with those who race multisport in the Athena class (165+ pounds). Note: You will not get kicked out of the group if you no longer qualify under the USAT rule for the Athena class and go below 165 pounds.
It’s a totally wonderful group. As a plus sized endurance athlete, it can sometimes feel like you’re the only one out there given the prevalent imagery of swimmers, runners, and cyclists.
It’s not a weight loss free group, unlike other Facebook groups of which I’m a member. But neither is it focused on food and size. Some people are happy competing at the weight they’re at , others have lost weight and still others want to keep losing. But weight loss isn’t the point. Triathlon, and duathlon, are the point. This group has interested even me in swimming.
I’ve expresssed my doubts about the Athena category before. See here.
The Athena/Clydesdale categories are an attempt to equalize competition in non-elite running and multisport events between big and small people. For men, Clydesdale is anyone over 200 lbs and for women the minimum weight for an Athena division runner is either 140 lbs or 150 lbs. But there are at least two problems with the Athena category. First, you have to select to run in it. And almost no women do.
Hint: It’s a great way to get medals. I’ve “won” the Athena division twice in duathlon events by being the only woman in the class.
I’m not sure if that’s because most women object to the weigh-in (a routine part of lots of sports, all of them with weight categories) but I didn’t actually have to weigh in since I’m clearly over that weight limit, or because they don’t want to be identified as part of the heavier group.
Second, as I looked around it seemed to me that most of the women competing were over that weight. Is it just wrong as a category? Am I wrong to think that 200 lbs seems okay for men but 140/150 seems small for women? As I mentioned with my bodpod results, my lean mass is 122 lbs so assuming I can retain that, I’ll always be an Athena class runner/multisport athlete.
I guess the Athena cut off is different in different places? The group’s description suggests 165 which is more reasonable than our local 150 lbs. And it would be different in places where the fields of competitors are more populated. Locally it seems to me to fail to address the worry it sets out to address.
So while I have doubts about Athena as a racing category I have zero doubts about how supportive this group is.
Recently a group member posted about having to do a 2.5 hour workout on her bike trainer and not feeling inspired. The group came through with the impressive set of images and slogans below. I think it’s okay to share them as there’s no personal content and they’re a lot of fun.
Although as usual when it comes to motivational sayings and images, your mileage may vary. See the following posts on fitness motivation:
Here’s my favourite though I was too late to share it with the group:
Back to the group: It’s great seeing all these Athena sized triathletes completing all the distances. The images make my Facebook a happy and inspirational place.
Who does triathlons in the United States today? What does the “average” triathlete look like?
Industry dogma suggests all triathletes are high wage earners between 30 and 45 who aspire to race Ironman (or already have). They own a $10K bike, race wheels and a power meter. Their household income is above $120K and they have a graduate level degree. They are the marketer’s dream come true: Young, affluent, fit and shopping.
There are two problems with that “demographic”: it’s outdated and likely wrong. Why?
(Stuff about income assumptions and how they’re false too not included. If you are interested go read the article.)
Americans have also changed physically. We’re heavier- all of us. The number of svelte, uber-athletes is smaller now than it was 20 years ago relative to the general populace, who apparently has been spending what’s left of their shrinking discretionary incomes on Krispy-Kremes, not qualifying for Kona.
As a result of this economic and health demographic shift triathlon has filled from the bottom. The sport is growing from an increasing number of new athletes who are more average, heavier, less athletic but still inspired to participate– if not necessarily compete.
This is good news for the triathlon industry if they become more pragmatic about who is really doing triathlons. History suggests the triathlon industry isn’t very realistic about its own consumership. It continues to (try to) market to the svelte, Kona demographic in print and internet media- even though the inspirational stories that bring people into the sport are usually the saga of the everyman participant who had to overcome to participate, and doesn’t really compete.
This fundamental misunderstanding of the distinction between Participation and Competition is what continues to hold the triathlon industry back. It is also why retailers have a hard time earning consistent profits from a market they are increasingly out of touch with.
There has never been an ad campaign in triathlon featuring realistically sized, average age group triathletes. In fact, the same rebellion that has happened in women’s apparel marketing with consumers raging against brands like Victoria’s Secret and Abercrombie & Fitch is ready to happen in triathlon. The middle 90% wants triathlon to “get real” about who is actually participating, and they don’t care about who’s racing in Kona.
Sunday was the first really beautiful, perfect weekend day we’ve had so far this spring. I went out for my first local 10K race of the season, The Run for Retina, intent on getting a personal best. But alas, it was not to be.
When I ran the Halloween Haunting last October, I managed a personal record 10K time of 1:05:56. I could almost taste a sub-65 10K. A winter of careful running in ice and snow helped my endurance but not my speed.
Instead of besting that, I ended up with 1:07:27.5. But lest you think I’m super-disappointed, let me assure you I’m not. For one thing, it’s the beginning of the season whereas the Halloween Haunting was at the end of the season. Not only that, as Sam pointed out, I did pretty well age-group wise, placing 17/33. I think that’s better than I’ve ever done.
And not only that, but I beat my last year’s Run for Retina 10K time of 1:10:40 by quite a bit. So there’s that.
I also got to see the woman who won the half marathon just kick it. Louidmila Kortchaguina finished the half marathon in 1:18:29.3 with a pace of 3:44 per km. Their race was two loops of the 10K course plus a bit, so I got to see her blast past a couple of times. What a rush!
It was the first time I’ve done a race all by myself–no friends watching, no friends running. I didn’t mind that but it’s not nearly as fun even if it’s a gorgeous day with lots of other people.
I’d added a few songs to my playlist to pick up the beat. On the downside, I think “In Your Hands” by Charlie Winston took me out too quickly off the start. I paid for that later. My race strategy on Sunday was to minimize my walk breaks, keeping them to the water stations and as short as possible. But that was probably ill-advised since I’ve been working pretty consistently with 10-1 intervals for months now. If I’m going to mess around with that timing then I need to do it in training first.
I also now understand my friends who have been running for awhile and why they no longer do local races. Last year when a couple of people said they were bored of them, I didn’t get it. But the Run for Retina was on exactly the same pathway that we trained on all last summer and all through the winter. The same Thames River. The same Canada geese honking at us as we run by. The same everything. Great for training but perhaps a bit of a yawn on race day.
Anyway, the whole point of the run for Retina this year was to set my 10K baseline for the season so I would know what I’m trying to improve upon. And I do: I want to do better than 1:07:27.5.
Here are the rest of my summer race plans:
1. Mississauga Marathon on May 3rd. This will be my first marathon ever. I feel extremely nervous and a little bit unhinged whenever I think of it. I have considered scaling back to the half. But then I think whatever. Why not give it a try? The other voice in my head answers this question with “because it will take you over 5 hours and that’s a long time to be running.” I guess I’ll see.
2. Niagara Women’s Half Marathon on June 7th. I signed up for this with Anita, whom I did my first half with back in October. I’m excited about this one — all women and we get to run past the Falls twice. And we’re going down the day before. It’ll be a fun getaway and I’m comfortable with the half marathon distance now.
3. Kincardine Women’s Triathlon on July 13th. This is a very short sprint triathlon (400m swim, 12K bike, 3K run) and there is a whole group of us going: Anita, Sam, Mallory, and Natalie, as well as my friend Leslie and at least three other women from Balance Point Triathlon, my club. It’s also the first triathlon I’ve ever done, and it will be my third time doing it. Kincardine is what made me fall in love with multi-sport. I’m excited.
It’s not a busy schedule because (a) I’m starting a new position at work and I can’t travel as much as I might usually in the summer and (b) Renald is about to go live on our sailboat on the east coast of the USA for a few months and I want to be available to visit him, so that means making fewer race commitments or finding stuff near where he is.
I have one main training goal for the summer: to improve my 10K time so I’m able to hit 60 minutes or less at race pace. This will mean learning to push myself harder for longer. 10K gives me a manageable distance to build up to. I will want to do a 10K event again at some point, maybe in September and another in October.
I’m also going to keep at my swim training through the summer because I’m enjoying it a lot and I’m getting faster.
Still deliberating about the bike training. Likely I will do spin classes just enough that I don’t actually lose what I’ve got so far. But I’m not aspiring for much there and with my enthuasiasm for running at an all-time high, I’m good with that.
Just added, Louise Green, fitness instructor, author, and blogger.
Today, I still weigh more than 200 pounds. I work out regularly. I am fit enough to run half marathons and I hold my own in athletic training programs. My metabolic health is in line, producing healthy numbers across the board. I don’t drink alcohol or smoke and I eat reasonably well. My body is free of disease.
But regardless of my internal health and fitness, certain people will always judge me by my outward appearance, and that is wrong.
And it doesn’t stop with everyday people. We are also seeing professional athletes who carry extra weight subjected to the same unfair projections.
So why is it that I am in a rather unique position when I present myself as a Plus Size Endurance Athlete? Why aren’t we all out there seeking sponsorship or promoting our roles as athletes? It’s easy – most of us don’t even acknowledge ourselves as athletes because we know that physically we don’t fit the mould of what society believes an ‘athlete’ looks like. We have a tendency to what I call ‘cheapen’ or ‘discount’ our athletic or fitness pursuits because people can’t seem to marry the fitness with the body shape. So instead of saying “I just finished a tempo run where I worked at 1km race pace intervals for 11km with a 2km warm up and 2km cool down”, we may mention quickly that we had ‘just been for a run’, usually adding “but I’m not very fast” or “oh I just plod along!”
I’ve done a lot of athletic things in my life including sports and dance, but always stuff at which I have natural talent. I decided that I wanted to push outside of my comfort zone and do things at which I seem to have absolutely no natural ability. I did a marathon and I sucked pretty bad at that, so I basically thought – what could I suck at that’s even more terrible than a marathon – and this is what I arrived at.
When I first started running in 1998, I wanted to lose weight. Running was simply a means of efficiently burning calories. It wasn’t fun, and it felt like punishment. And of course, I didn’t stick with it.
Over the years I started and stopped a number of times. Finally, in 2010, weighing close to 300 pounds, I started again, and this time I stuck with it. What was different? I stopped thinking about running as a means to offset calories, and started looking at it as a way to build up my confidence and strength. Soon, running became a source of joy, even when it was difficult (which was most of the time in the early years!). I became a triathlete and then a personal trainer. I also lost weight along the way.
But still, there was something missing. Although I felt like a runner, I didn’t see much representation in the running world for larger athletes. That’s when I knew it was time to start spreading the message that you can be a runner at any size, shape, age, pace or distance. That the very fact that you run makes you a runner.
I’m a 41 yr old, stubborn (determined?), short, married, sarcastic, no kids (furkids, one named ATHENA), fat, slow, medically challenged, IRONMAN. I really enjoy the sport of triathlon and found you can do great things if you believe it, then put the work in to do it.
I have a genetic disorder, Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (EDS), which among other things makes my body unpredictable day by day. I dislocate many of my joints on a frequent basis and it is nearly impossible to build strength like normal people. I quickly atrophy, and many muscles just do not work on their own without conscious engagement of each contraction.
Running is especially difficult and my arches usually collapse within 45 min of any run. I have to worry about many other medical issues, such as migraines, but these are the big ones.
What’s a fat broad like me — 200 pounds of flab squatting over skinny tires — doing on the road? I’mcycling just like everyone else. And regardless of your size, you belong here too! If you like cycling, don’t let your mind cheat your body out of doing something fun and healthy.
Being overweight and being a cyclist is not contradictory. I’ve been both for 22 years. Too many women are psyched out by those lean bodies dancing on the pedals up the Gatineau Hills. Cycling does not require a skinny body, it helps if you want to go fast, but it’s not necessary to enjoy cycling.
I may be Canadian and I may run in all manner of weather, but I’m not about to get out on the road bike. This winter I’ve taken the cycling inside.
Last year when the snow and cold came I let my cycling drop completely. The result: weak performance on the cycling leg of my triathlon. Sam finally convinced me that if I want to get stronger on the bike, I need to spend time on the bike through the winter. I can’t just pick it up in March or April and expect to keep up.
Hence: the winter cycling tour of 2015. By the end of the season, I’ll have spent hours on my trainer in group classes in basements across the city, listening to music I wouldn’t otherwise be listening to, sometimes louder than if I was in the front row at a rock concert.
And the classes are tough. So far, I’ve had three different instructors in two different basements. Chris is Sam’s coach. He’s a serious cycling coach who works with high level athletes. It all began in his basement. Every Tuesday at 5 p.m. six of us haul our bikes and trainers around to the back of his house and let ourselves in. We set up in the basement. Chris teaches the class and each week is more difficult than the week before. We started with a one hour class back at the beginning of November. Then 1:15. And now we’ve leveled off at 1:30.
It’s heart rate zone training. Besides your bike you need your trainer, your heartrate monitor, and a cadence monitor. Also: a towel for the sweat, two water bottles to stay hydrated, and something to munch on so as not to pass out. I have worked so hard in that class that I felt ill.
Chris had me fill out a form when I first started going and one of the questions asked me to rate my ability to suffer (I think on a scale of 1-10). I can’t remember exactly what I said, but if I was doing it again I’d say I can now suffer more.
His classes challenge me, with climbs and sprints and lots of upper zone 3 work. But there are rest and recovery periods interspersed between the harder efforts. I’m getting very comfortable with the bike. Granted, we’re not going to anywhere, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt so confident about shifting.
And where I couldn’t get a smooth cadence when I was standing up on my pedals a couple of months ago, I’m getting there now and even made it to the end of some standing intervals on Tuesday for the first time without having to sit down early.
Cheryl, from Happy Is the New Healthy teaches the class sometimes and she has also taught for Jodie. Jodie is an Ironman triathlete who subbed in one time just before Christmas. Her class challenged me perhaps more than I’ve ever been challenged on a bike, and not even as tough as it could have been. She said Chris had asked her to dial it back.
Jodie teaches another class, Saturday mornings from 7-9 a.m. in the basement of a chiropractor’s office in north London. It was the perfect thing to carry me through the holidays. For her Saturday class, she doesn’t have to run it by Chris. I think everyone in that class is an Ironman triathlete. Jodie pushed us so hard that I spent a good portion of that class in Zone 4. Some people had to refill their water bottles partway through. There was no way I was making it through that class without eating a Clif Bar, some nuts, and some coconut covered dates.
When the two hour session on the bike ended that morning and I started packing up, someone said, “Aren’t you coming running?” Saturday is not just a killer session on the trainer. It’s a brick workout. But no, I’m not doing that right now. I’ve got my long runs on Sundays with my marathon training group and there’s only so much my body can handle in one weekend.
I did another Saturday with Jodie, and then she went to Mexico and Cheryl filled in. I don’t know if they’re all competing to see who can teach the toughest class, but honestly. After Cheryl’s class last weekend, it was the first time in a long time I needed a nap a couple of hours later. I crawled into bed and bam, I was out cold.
These classes are all using a regular trainer. I like my the trainer I bought. It’s got an adjustable resistance so if it gets too easy at the setting it’s on now I can make it a bit tougher.
Starting Saturday, I’m doing something a bit different, in a different basement. Gabbi, my swim coach, runs the Balance Point Triathlon club. In the winter, she does watts training on computrainers. Gabbi swears that this is the very best way to gain power on the bike. So I’m adding Gabbi’s basement to my winter tour.
I have to say, I’m grateful for these basements. I just moved into a condo and strictly speaking I’m not supposed to use my trainer in my unit (no exercise equipment). I can sort of see why. It does vibrate a bit on the floor despite a few layers of padding and it might bother the people who live below me.
Don’t tell anyone, but I’m going to try it on the carpeted section and see if that’s any better because Coach Chris gave me an extra workout a week to round out my training. It would be great to offset the basement tour with a view from the 23rd floor once a week!
That’s Sam and I at the back — cycling in Coach Chris’s basement. Photo credit: Chris Helwig.
I’m thinking here of Caitlin, from Fit and Feminist (though it sounds like she’s learned to love the bike a bit at least) and this blog’s Tracy. But they’re not alone. I’ve met a few triathletes, even some very fast ones, who are at best reluctant cyclists.
I met a half iron triathlete out on the bike last week and I was doing my usual thing of raving about how much I love fall riding. In short: I’m fit, it’s cooler, no races, and pretty colours.
She whispered, “I have a secret. I kind of hate cycling.”
Uh oh.
Here are my two cents for the triathlete who is a reluctant cyclist.
Want to get faster? Want to learn to love your bike?
Ride.
Ride lots.
Ride as late into the fall as your gear and temperament allows. Ride as early in the spring as you can manage. Buy cold weather cycling clothes and in the polite version of the standard cycling saying, toughen up.
(Sorry. I have a bit of a Jens crush, like most other women in the world who ride road bikes. Actually like most other people in the world with road bikes. Men love Jens too.)
Ride long and easy some of the time. Ride hard and fast other times. Learn to suffer and like it.
Ride hills, ride intervals, ride into the countryside and drink coffee with friends.
Ride with slow friends. Best of all, ride with the fastest people you know willing to have you along.
But if you’re already a fast swimmer or a fast runner, go into maintenance mode with swimming and/or running. The biggest place you can make gains and improve your overall time is on the bike.
And yes, over the worst of the winter, you can ride a trainer. You can take spin classes. You can use rollers. You can crosstrain. Here’s seven options.
But, in my experience, the best you can manage over the winter is maintaining bike fitness, not building it.
You want to end the fall on a high note. It’s downhill from there.
Just like running on a treadmill doesn’t compare to road miles, so too the trainer is always second best to riding. Yes, it’s good for intervals. Just like the treadmill. But that might be its only advantage.
I know. It’s not what you want to hear. But to get faster on your bike, you have to ride your bike. Lots.
Starting the 10K run after the swim and bike on Sunday. Photo credit: Sam.
Last Sunday at Lakeside I did it again. Right up to the day before it was one of those “if I hadn’t signed up I wouldn’t be doing this” kind of things. But I did sign up and I said I would do and Lakeside is where my club trains.
And now I have one more Olympic distance triathlon to my name: 1.5 km swim, 40 km bike ride, and 10 km run. Bam!
Lakeside is flatter and the weather was cooler. The organizers changed the start time to an hour later because of the temperatures. And they waited until about thirty minutes before the race to announce that it wasn’t going to be wetsuit mandatory (but they strongly recommended everyone wear a wetsuit). My coach brought me some arm warmers so I wouldn’t get cold on the bike ride. So yeah.
A couple of days before the race I told Sam I was dreading it. She said, “it’s flatter and cooler–you’ll do better!”
I can honestly report that I did do better. Kind of. I improved my time in all three things. I shaved just over 2 minutes off of the 1.5 km swim. I managed to finish the bike 6 minutes faster. And I cut my run time by 2 and half minutes. T1 was ridiculously long as I struggled to pull the arm warmers over wet skin and took some extra time to towel off so I wouldn’t be cold. 4 minutes and 50 seconds for T1 (as compared to 3:23 in Bracebridge).
It was all enough to get me to the finish line third last of those who finished (there were also three DNFs and I wasn’t among them!).
I’m going to do something a bit more random than a detailed race report, because, let’s face it, a race report from the person who finished third last just isn’t all that exciting. So here are some reflections:
1. I was so thankful that my friend and colleague, Chris, was racing with me that day. We travelled together and gave each other pep talks. Sunday was Chris’ actual birthday (52 and she totally rocks!), so the mood was kind of celebratory.
2. Thankful too that I joined Balance Point Triathlon Club this summer and decided to race on our home course. We train there and it makes a difference to be in a familiar place. I was totally relaxed even though I experienced some resistance about wanting to do the race. Being a member of the club meant that I knew lots of people who were there. Club members who weren’t racing had volunteered to help out, so I encountered encouraging words from people I train with all along the course. And of course, Gabbi the coach reminded me that I could do it, and brought those cool arm warmers that made a huge difference on the bike ride.
3. The Swim. I can’t say enough about how much I am enjoying swimming. Whereas last year when I did the Give-It-A-Tri at Lakeside I had something like a panic attack at the beginning of the swim that made me totally short of breath, gasping for the entire time, this year I felt relaxed and I fell into a nice rhythm almost immediately. Training with a coach has helped me develop techniques to go into various swim “gears.” These have a lot to do with different breathing patterns.
My favourite race day breathing pattern is to breath two in a row on one side, then on the third stroke, then two in row to that side, then on the third stroke again. I don’t know what it’s called but I like it a lot. When I really want to kick into high gear I breath every two strokes. Training in the open water through the summer has also improved my sighting on the swim. Not having the blue line on the bottom of the pool makes it really easy to go off course. Learning to sight without breaking speed and rhythm have really improved my swim times.
4. The Bike. Still not loving this part of the race, and of course it’s the longest bit of the course. Though I sometimes see 40 km an hour on my bike computer, I’m usually somewhere between 20-30, and in the end my average speed on the bike for this race came out at 21.8 km/hour. It’s clear to me that the bike is my nemesis. I pass no one on the bike and pretty much everyone in the race, even those well behind me after the swim, blast past me. It’s demoralizing to see zero improvement and I get that I am starting to sound like a whiny child whenever I talk about the bike. Sam has been encouraging me to ride with a women’s intermediate group on Thursday evenings through the fall, but their pace is usually about 28 km/hour. Though the coach says they will slow down if a slower rider joins them, there is no way I’m going to be the one to slow a group down by that much.
Anyway, on race day, I hauled on those arm warmers and jumped on the bike. Knowing that I wouldn’t be making any big progress on the bike that day, I used it to practice different techniques, play with the gears, work on my confidence on hills, and even commune with the natural world (it’s a nice rural course and by mid-morning, the weather was kind of pleasant).
I probably need to learn to suffer more on the bike.
5. It was great when I got back from the bike because Sam and Kim and our friend David were all there at the dismount line, along with Chris’ kids and her partner, Emma, cheering me on. That bolstered me a bit for the run, though truth be told the idea of running 10K after that bike ride seemed incredible to me.
6. The run. Well, as incredible as it seemed, I did it. By the time the run started the weather was actually perfect running weather. Not too hot, but not cold at all. I took the arm warmers off shortly into the run. The course at Lakeside is two 5K loops. I suffered serious quad cramps over the first 2 km. At the first water station, one of the speedsters I train with encouraged me to “push through the pain.”
When I finished the first 5K loop, there was a guy there directing people to the finish line. I said, “Not me, I have another loop to do.” He said, “Really?” He seriously looked flabbergasted. By this time the people in the next race (a Give-It-a-Tri that started three hours later) had already begun the run. The last 5K was a psychological battle, not to finish — I knew I would finish — but to keep running. By this time, I just wanted it to be over. My quads cramped up again at about 6K, and I felt like I was hitting a wall. I tried some Heed at the water stations and sucked down a gel, but I was well and truly out of steam.
I got to the finish line and choked back some sobs as I approached. When I crossed, I saw no one I knew and that felt kind of good, actually, because I had nothing left for anyone. Sam et al. had long since gotten back on their bikes for the long ride home. Chris was still there with the family and I caught up with them a bit later.
I found the food tent and filled a plate with banana pieces and pretzels and then sat myself down at a picnic table.
7. I don’t know when it happened. I think it was some time during the last leg of the run. People were encouraging me by name — this is why I love the fact that they have first names in HUGE letters on our race bibs — and I was chugging along. And I had a surge of pride and satisfaction in what I was accomplishing. If I look back at two years ago when Sam and I started our fittest by 50 challenge, I never for a minute would have thought I could complete an Olympic distance triathlon (or even a sprint distance, really) before my 50th birthday! And here I was, doing it, just 10 days before the big day. Look at me!
Time: 3:44.28.5
Next up: Toronto half marathon with my friend Anita on Sunday, October 19th.
Sunday was the big day! The day of my first Olympic Distance triathlon. Ever since last summer, this has been my “fittest by 50 goal.”
I trained. I gathered up some support–both of my parents and Renald dragged themselves out of bed in the dark so they could come cheer me on. I checked out the course ahead of time. I signed up way in advance, specifically choosing the Bracebridge Triathlon because it’s reasonably close to my parents and the timing was right.
I definitely wanted this behind me before we left for our summer vacation to the Grand Canyon and then on to Burning Man.
It was a clear, hot, and sunny day, not the least bit humid. We made it to Annie Williams Park, a grass-covered picnic area on the river, before 7 a.m. My nerves settled into my stomach half way there, and I had to run from the car to the bathroom before I could even think of getting my stuff ready or checking in.
By the time I got back to the car, Renald had my bike unpacked and my bag ready to go. I pumped up my tires–a well-formed habit I’ve gotten into doing before every single time I take the road bike out. I grabbed my bag and wheeled the bike down to the registration area where I picked up my bib–#335–and my t-shirt (I should have signed up for the cap).
As I entered the transition area, I heard someone calling my name. I turned around and it was one of the guys who trains with Balance Point Triathlon, the club I swam with through the winter and joined for the summer. I wear a club suit when I race so it was easy for Kevin to pick me out of the crowd. He is a fast swimmer and, as I found out later, a fast cyclist and runner as well. He acknowledged my understandable nerves and assured me that I’d be fine.
I’d driven the bike course the day before. I would have liked to have ridden it, but it didn’t seem like a wise thing to do within less than 24 hours of the race. It’s a hilly course with lots of different kinds of ascents and descents–from short and steep to slow and steady. I’ve gotten over my terror of hills, no longer regarding them with complete dread. But the course did kind of scare me. I knew I’d be taking it slow.
I set up my transition area in the way I’ve become accustomed to, laying everything out on a navy blue towel, folded in half beside my bike. Like this:
I folded my wetsuit over my racked bike and went out to chat with Renald. The announcer kept reminding us there would be a pre-race meeting near the water at 8 a.m. to explain the “time-trial start” for the swim. Because it was a narrow course on a river, we were going to go in five-second intervals in order or our bib numbers (which were assigned by age).
With about 5 minutes to go until the meeting, I slicked myself up at key points with Body Glide and wriggled into my wetsuit, up to my waist.
Athletes were already in the water doing swim warm-ups. My parents arrived, lawn chairs in hand, just when the meeting was about to begin. Renald set them up in a prime location at the swim finish.
The time-trial start meant lining up on the dock and then in the water, 50 at a time, when the announcer called your group. It’s a bit more nerve wracking than the typical start in three waves because it involves a lot more waiting around after the race has begun. The fastest athletes were at the very front, the elites competing in the Ontario Championships and seeking a spot on the Canadian national team.
Since my group wouldn’t be called for about 15 more minutes after the start, I waded into the river for a practice swim. The bottom was oozy and soft, the water briny and dark. Not my favourite conditions, but at least it felt warm. No alarming jolt when it filled the wetsuit and no problem for the face, hands, and feet.
I hung with Renald and my parents for a few minutes but then felt like I really needed to get my head in the game. Moving closer to the dock, I heard my name again. This time, it was a colleague from the medical school. I had no idea he did triathlons. He’d done the course a few times, and started talking about the bike course. As soon as he began to describe the steep hill just a few kms from the start, at Santa’s Village, I felt my stomach drop a bit.
“Have a good race!” I said.
Then my group was called.
Lining up on the dock for the swim at Bracebridge. That’s me with the yellow cap. 🙂
The Swim: 1.5 kilometres
By the time I got to the front of the line I didn’t have a lot a time to think. A 5 second countdown isn’t very long. Just let’s say I’m glad I had my goggles in place because the next thing I knew I was swimming. I settled into pace after about 50 metres. This is the first time I haven’t had any difficulty establishing my rhythm and my breathing at the beginning of a race. I passed a few people right away.
Then I felt my timing chip coming loose. The strap was dragging and I knew at least part of it had come away from the velcro. Trust me, this water was dark enough that a lost timing chip would be just that: lost. I ignored it for a few minutes but then I had to stop and check it, for fear of it coming off. I couldn’t figure out exactly what the problem was, but at least some of it was still stuck together so I was pretty sure it wouldn’t fall off. That little stop probably added 30 seconds because it broke my rhythm.
The swim took us along the shoreline on one side of the river for 720 metres, then we crossed to the other side (about 10 metres) and swam back, down along the other shore to the finish. I sighted regularly, keeping the enormous orange markers in view and on my left. Green cones marked the turns, and there would only be three of them. The first one seemed to take forever to come into view. I picked up the pace when I rounded it. I knew I had plenty in the tank for a negative split on the swim. I got caught behind someone on that stretch, having to hold up so as not to get kicked in the face, but I altered my course slightly to find a clear path. I caught site of some gnarly tree branches under the water, which freaked me out (read: irrational fear of things in the water).
I caught sight of the final green marker at the end of the swim, indicating the last turn which would be followed by a short stretch to the shore and the run up to the transition. I gunned it.
On shore, Mum, Dad and Renald were yelling “Go, Tracy!” I smiled and ran a bit faster.
Swim time: 33:45 minutes.
Transition 1
I got all flustered in the transition area, despite having mapped out my course visually from the entrance prior to the race. I had to double back out of the duathlon bike area and when I found my bike I looked at everything on my towel and for a brief moment I had no idea what to do next. Okay. Regroup. I pulled off the wetsuit and dabbed myself off with a towel. It was hot enough that it didn’t really matter if I was still wet.
I just wanted dry feet. So I threw the towel down and stepped on it while I grabbed my socks and pulled them on. Then the glasses and the helmet, bike shoes, gloves. Things were moving in slow motion (not the best thing for a race). I unracked the bike and ran out the “bike out” arch to the mount line.
“Come on, Trace!” Mum shouted.
T1 time: the transition times seem to have disappeared from the race results postings, but my T1 was my slowest ever, somewhere in the 3 minute range.
Running out of T1 for the bike ride.
The Bike: 40 kilometres
Here’s the part where everyone passes me.
But I knew that would happen, so I had my own goals for the bike. They were modest. I was going to use it to build confidence on my ability to make it up hills, fearlessness in letting it fly on the descents, and awareness of cadence and the sensation of “spinning” the pedals, especially the part where you’re supposed to feel like you’re scraping mud off your shoes.
By now the sun had risen high in the sky and it was getting hot. I could give a play by play, but instead, I think I’ll just give you some random highlights.
1. I DID make it up all the hills. They were challenging. That Santa’s Village Hill my colleague told me about, for example, defeated at least one person in front of me because he was picking himself up after having fallen over trying to make it. Me? I had to slowly grind my way up, huffing and puffing all the way. The other challenging hill was a long, steady climb just before the turnaround point. It went on and on and on. But I had my positive self-talk ready for that one. I only considered bailing a couple of times. And then I reminded myself that everyone always tells me I’m built to be a climber. So I repeated, aloud, “I’m a climber, I’m a climber, I’m a climber, I can do this, I can do this.” And I used all the tips I’d been given at the hill climbing workshop, letting up a bit as I came into a hill, then spinning at a high cadence into the climb, doing that mud scraping thing.
2. Drinking and eating on the bike is not my strong point, but I needed to do both if I didn’t want to run into trouble on the run. I had some food handy in my new and wonderful bike bento box–my homemade endurance gel block shots. I ate them at regular intervals and drank my water, laced with Emergen-C on the flats. I practiced drinking while pedaling. But each time I took a drink, I lost time.
3. That demoralizing feeling of being left in the dust. Other than that guy who fell over and another poor soul who had a flat, I didn’t pass anyone on the bike ride. But oh, did people pass me! Each time, I had to buck myself up with some positive self-talk and remind myself that my only goal was to complete the race. There were a handful of people behind me — I saw that when I turned around. But yeah, it’s frustrating not to know what to do to go faster. I spoke to a woman at the end of the race who is the first person I’ve ever talked to who “gets it.” She too said that she just doesn’t understand how people go faster on the bike. It seems impossible to her that her time will ever improve. Well, that’s how it seems to me.
4. The last leg of the bike, when I was all alone and could see no one else, and I still had a 10K run ahead of me, and I was well aware that it was approaching noon already and it would be hot, and I knew I’d been out there on the bike longer than I’d planned to be–that’s when I thought briefly about bailing, and about downgrading my next triathlon in September to a sprint distance. But there is something about having to be accountable on the blog that can really motivate a person. So despite that little melodrama in my head, I kept at it (“I’m a climber, I can do this”) and I will be doing the Olympic in September.
When I got off my bike at the dismount line, mum said, “Wow, you look fresh!”
Bike time: 1:55:17 (I had hoped for between 1:30 and 1:45)
Transition 2
Uneventful except for the fact that the last thing I wanted to do at that point was a run a 10K.
T2 time: under 1:30 (but again, times seem to have disappeared from the website)
The Run: 10K
It was HOT. And despite looking fresh, I felt like I wanted to lie down on the grass in the shade of an old maple tree beside the river. My run strategy was simple: I would try to keep my pace between 6:30 and 7:00 per kilometre, and that would bring me into the finish line within 1 hour and 10 minutes. I knew I could complete the 10K, it was just a matter of maintaining a decent pace.
I couldn’t keep it quite there. The course was flat and had some shady bits, but the heat of the day was getting to me. At the water stations, I started to take extra and dump it over my head. That refreshed me for a few seconds each time.
Conscious that I was ignoring the received wisdom of never trying anything on race day you’ve not tried before, I drank some Hammer Heed because at that point I had over 5K to go and was worried about electrolytes. Mistake. Within minutes of drinking the Heed I felt bloated and heavy. This feeling stayed with me, in addition to overheated and just plain tired, to the end of the run.
It was an out and back course, so the people heading back were great for shouting out words of encouragement. I love the fact that this race series has our first names in large letters on the bibs, so you can support one another by name. It makes a difference.
Again, I passed no one. And by then, there weren’t many people left to pass me either. So I ran alone.
After the turnaround, about 10 cups of water over the head later, I noticed for the first time that my shoes were saturated with water. Each time I dumped it over the front of my head, it made its way down to my shoes. Slosh, slosh, slosh. That was for the last 4K.
Running isn’t scary because it’s so easy to walk. Nothing dangerous about it, you just slow down. But I didn’t want to slow down. I knew my pace was faltering. I started to play little games with myself about making it to that tree or that house or that water station or that distance mark.
John, the guy behind me, passed me at the 8K mark, with the words, “I
wish that said 9K.” I kept him in sight the rest of the way, but I couldn’t keep up.
And then I was turning into the park again, running down the grassy slope to the finish line. Mum and Dad and Renald were yelling “Go, Tracy!” and others were saying, “You’re there!”
Run time: 1:18:48
Race time: 3:52:36
Crossing the finish line.
Of the 348 who finished, I was 343rd. About six others succumbed to the heat and didn’t make it to the end. My family greeted me at the finish line, Mum moved to tears by my accomplishment, Renald close behind her.
I did it! It took a bit for it to sink in. This was the moment I’ve been training for all year. My fittest by 50 goal, accomplished!
I could probably write a separate post about what it feels like to finish in the bottom ten, but for now I’ll just say that those of us who endure to the end are out there a LONG time. Sean Bechtel, the champion, finished the entire course in 1:55:19, almost 2 full hours ahead of me!
I think the thing we most miss out on, us in the bottom ten, is the energy of the crowd. By the time I got there, everyone had pretty much dispersed. There were still a few people eating pizza and packing up their stuff, but for the most part, everyone was gone. The excitement of the announcer and people cheering at the finish line and coming in with other competitors is missing. It’s there in the shorter races–I felt it in Kincardine, for example. I love that finish line feeling when there are still enough people around to create that buzz in the air.
But that’s okay. I feel really good about my race day. I enjoyed myself a lot. If you’ll notice, I’m smiling in almost all of the pictures and that’s genuine. It was truly a fun time. And Mum, Dad, and Renald: Thank you for being there! I felt the love!
Next up: Lakeside Olympic Distance triathlon, September 14, 2015.
The night before a race, I usually pin my bib number to my shirt and set out everything else I need so that I don’t have to think about anything in the morning. This is easy enough for a running race: shoes, socks, run shorts, sports bra, GPS watch, and maybe a running cap and a small bottle of water.
Adding two more sports on to that was a bit more stressful! I gathered my swimming things: wetsuit, swim cap, goggles, and put them with things I would need in the morning: BodyGlide (to lube up before jumping into the wetsuit) and plastic bags (they go over my hands/feet and make getting into the wetsuit easier).
Next up, the things I would need in transition: cycling shoes, running shoes, socks, GPS watch, water bottle, sport towel, plastic bags to protect from the rain. Oh yes, the rain – I’d been neurotically refreshing the weather page for days, hoping that prediction for “thunderstorms” on race morning would magically disappear – alas, they did not! Thinking about the rain, I grabbed my running cap as well. My partner, Kevin, suggested I put it on under my helmet for the cycling portion as well – professional cyclists do it all the time, he said. Good idea, I thought. More on that later.
We then went to remove the rear rack from my bike. It turns out that the rack was affixed by screws on the interior of the seat stays, and we had to remove the rear wheel to get at them. The V-brakes on my bike were unusually tight and difficult to release, turning a simple task into a frustrating endeavor. When I saw that it wasn’t going to be as simple as it should have, I wanted to say, “forget it,” and leave the rack on. I had wanted it off for two reasons: 1) I didn’t know how heavy it was, and it would be nice to have the bike as light as possible in case I needed to carry it up/down the hill to the mount line, and 2) I thought I’d look a little silly with a bike rack at a triathlon. But I also really didn’t want to mess with the bike the night before the race, especially because I just had it tuned up.
Anyways, Kevin said he could do it, so we persisted. We got the rack off but in the process messed up the brake alignment. Nothing too bad, but cue an increase in already-high levels of race anxiety.
Race day
I’ve learned by now that while I definitely need coffee to be considered a functional human being, drinking too much of it before a race is NOT kind on my nervous stomach, so I only had a tiny cup of coffee. Transition opened at 8am for the sprint distance, and I was going to meet my friend Megan there at 8:15. At 7:55 we got our bikes and headed off. As luck would have it, we actually ran into Megan on the ride to the race area – a good start to the day!
We set our transition areas up. Run cap and helmet went on the handle of my bike and everything else inside a plastic bag on top of my towel, which was on top of another plastic bag. It had already been raining in the morning, though thankfully it had stopped in time for our set up (the Olympic distance competitors were not so lucky).
We waited a lot longer to put our wetsuits on than most of the people around us. I realized that was perhaps a bad idea when it was close to my wave’s starting time and I wasn’t zipped up yet! Eeek! Megan quickly shoehorned my shoulders in and zipped me up, then bade me farewell – she was in the wave behind me.
Swim:
I’m not sure what the water temperature actually was – I think they said around 15-17 degrees? – but I knew from trying out part of the swim course the day before that it was going to be frigid. I was not wrong. It was COLD. And due to the nature of the course, we didn’t have any opportunity to warm up. Into the water, and a minute later our horn goes off. Oof.
I positioned myself to the side and back, letting the stronger swimmers go out first. I quickly realized that many around me had the same idea. Most of them seemed as uncomfortable in the water as I felt. I tried to do front crawl, but every time I stuck my face in the water, I wanted to take it right back out again. I also had trouble exhaling. It’s funny because the whole time, I *knew* what the problem was. “Breathe out,” I’d think to myself, but for some reason I couldn’t make myself do it.
I later discovered that there might be a physiological explanation for this. It’s called “Mammalian Diving Reflex.” In a nutshell, when you stick your face into cold water, your heart rate drops and blood flow gets diverted from your extremities. Your body enters a state where it tries to conserve oxygen. Don’t breathe out, my body said! You need that! It was hard to fight.
So I ended up doing a true medley of strokes: front crawl, back crawl, breast stroke, elementary back stroke, and side stroke. I used literally every stroke I knew to propel myself through the water. I kept trying front crawl, hoping I would settle into a rhythm. I found it very difficult whenever there was someone remotely near me (in front, behind, or to the side). I kept thinking, “I hope I’m not going too slow for the person behind me,” and “I hope I don’t crash into the person in front of me.” It’s a race, I know, but I’m just not used to swimming with so many people, especially with no lane ropes!
By the last buoy, I had finally discovered some semblance of a rhythm with my front crawl stroke. I honestly think that if I had 15 minutes to warm up in the water, my swim would have gone much more smoothly. Maybe if I do another tri, I’ll pick one where I can have a warm up.
Time for swim – 21:14
T1:
Well, this could have gone more smoothly! My time was the third slowest in my age group for the transition. I had difficulty getting my wetsuit off (I’ve never NOT had that difficulty, though, so…). I also took a couple of moments to ensure that I had everything in order, then un-racked my bike.
Cue race official. “Can you re-rack your bike please?”
Oh no oh no oh no what have I done wrong?!
“You have to take off your hat. It’s a safety issue.”
I honestly wasn’t aware that wearing a running cap under my helmet could be unsafe, but I certainly wasn’t about to argue with the race official. I took off my hat, then grabbed my bike again and set off to run up the ramp to the mounting line.
Time for T1 – 4:46
Bike:
The bike course started on a pedestrian bridge that took us into Exhibition Grounds. I knew that the bridge was a “no passing” zone, but I wasn’t sure at which point the “no passing” ended. There was a man in front of me going awfully slowly, and I just wanted to pass him and get going!
Shortly after getting on the Gardiner (we got to bike on the Gardiner!!), Megan passed me. I wasn’t surprised – although her wave was four minutes after mine, she’s an extremely strong swimmer. I had actually expected her to pass me during the swim!
I settled into a pace that I felt I could keep for 20km. I don’t have very much experience with being able to bike for 20km without stopping for traffic lights or small children dashing in front of me on the trail, so I didn’t exactly have a benchmark for what my speed ‘ought’ to be, and decided to do it by effort.
My rear brakes started rubbing somewhere just before we got on the Gardiner, and for the first half of the bike course I was woefully regretting removing the rear rack. They sorted themselves out just before the first turnaround point, which was a fairly sharp U-turn.
It felt like I was hitting a brick wall when I turned. It was only then that I realized we had had a fairly substantial tailwind on the way out – and now we faced a fairly substantial headwind. Grr, argh.
I wished at that point that I had a real road bike. The hybrid commuter that I ride is a very nice bike (on loan to me indefinitely from my uncle, after mine got stolen last summer). It’s pretty light and I’ve been told the specs are comparable to an entry-level road bike. But a road bike it is not, and I was envious of all the people around me who could get down low and alleviate some of the wind resistance. Maybe next year!
With about 6km to go, the skies just opened up. Now we had a headwind and a torrential downpour! Yikes! There was a second U-turn that we had to make before coming back onto Exhibition grounds, and I had the sense to brake well ahead of time to avoid hydroplaning or skidding in the turn. I was seriously wishing that hats were allowed, because with so much rain, I could barely see through my glasses. Definitely quite the weather for my first tri!
Time for bike – 43:38
T2:
We had to run down a ramp into transition with our bikes, and I remembered the advice that my friend Al gave me. He told me to take off my cleats before going down the ramp, especially if it was raining, to avoid falling. Good advice! My feet were so wet anyways that it didn’t matter that I was running in just my socks.
The second transition was much easier. I put on my running shoes and off I went. Forgot my running cap, though – and again regretted it, as I could still barely see through the rain. Megan was a minute or so ahead of me. “Come catch me,” she said as she took off.
Time for T2 – 1:58
Run:
I wanted to catch Megan. I really did. My legs felt so dead, though. Despite my brick workouts, I wasn’t quite used to the feeling of coming off of 20km straight cycling, at a speed faster that what I usually ride at. I was also just feeling generally exhausted by this point. I stopped to walk a couple of times throughout the run, seeing Megan get further and further away.
A woman ran up beside me when I was slowing to a walk and said, “I remember you from the bike course – we played leap frog a couple of times. Come on, it’s only 1.5km left, we can do this.” It was exactly what I needed to hear at the time. I asked her name. “Julie,” she said. Well – thank you, Julie. With her encouragement, I ran the rest of the way without stopping.
Time for run – 27:59
Finish:
At the finish line, I felt so many things at once. Pride that I finished. Relief that it was over. I may have teared up a bit. Okay I definitely did.
Megan finished a few minutes ahead of me and was waiting to hug me at the finish line. She had a great race, smashing her time from last year. I’m so proud of her, and very grateful to have been able to train and race with such a fun, strong, and inspiring person.
My family asked me at the finish line if I would do it again. At the time, I wasn’t sure what to say. Now that I’ve had time to process, I think the answer is yes. I might like to do one where I have time to warm up before the swim, though! Although overall I’m proud of my finishing time, it’s very clear that there’s room for improvement in all of the events. And that’s okay by me – it just gives me something to work towards for next year.
Total time: 1:39:34
Stephanie is a PhD candidate in Astronomy & Astrophysics at the University of Toronto. She is also a runner, photographer, drinker of craft beer, and a newly minted triathlete.
