Wednesday, November 11, 2015

Race Recap: Angus Glen Half-Marathon

The Angus Glen Half-Marathon is one of my wife's favourite races, largely because of the post race brunch.  Last year I wasn't feeling too well on race day, so I ended up with a DNS (Did Not Start).  We had arranged for a sitter starting at 7:00 AM and the half-marathon start time was 8:00 - Google was predicting a 45 minute drive, so the scheduling wasn't too smart on our part.

Luckily we made better time than predicted (not having to pack kids in and out of the car certainly helps).  After trudging across a frosty field (temperatures that morning were just above freezing) to the golf course clubhouse, I had a few minutes to grab my bib, and race kit, greet my friend John (who you might remember from my Huntsville Half-Marathon Recap) and his wife Tina (and ask her to keep my race kit bag), before being one of the last through the starting line as the race began.

I was wearing a hat and gloves, yet I still felt cold for a good long while.  The good news is the first few kilometres  ticked by quickly.  By 3 km my core was starting to feel warm but my hands weren't, and I can't imagine how cold people running in shorts (!) were.  Those first few kilometres went through a residential area, and somewhere near kilometre 4, we came doubling back to see some of the 10 km racers who started 15 minutes after us.  I hoped to see my wife but I think I got to that stretch too late, since the majority of the racers I observed were power walkers.

This course has a lot of climbs.
Kilometre 5 was followed by an early turn-around point for the 10 km racers, who would do a U-turn, whereas the half-marathoners kept going for a stretch.  I saw John on his way back from our turn-around and we trash talked each other; total strangers offer us encouragements, but we're friends long enough to say things that are terrible, yet funny to us.

At the 3 km mark I had seen a porta-potty, but in retrospect, I think it belonged to a construction site, since there were no others anywhere on the race course.  At kilometre 7 or so, I was regretting not having enough time to an extra break before the start.  Up ahead, I saw a woman break off the road and head to a farmhouse.  I figured she was going to ask the homeowners if she could use their washroom - not a bad idea, I suppose.  She returned to the road scant minutes later - not enough time to have made a polite request and a proper thank-you.  I realized the farmhouse was abandoned and she had simply ducked behind it to do her business, so I did the same.

It cost me a lot of time, but I'd rather run comfortably and I always tell myself that the comfortable pace is faster than the clenched one.  I even saw a red-tailed hawk, and it screamed that scream that hawks do in the movies, but never real life.

My initial goal of 2:06 meant running about 6 minutes/km, and I was holding under that for the most part.  I had a Salted Caramel Gu Gel (soooo gooooood!) at the 10 km mark, and I was able to pump up the effort a little.  The sun was doing its thing and I not only had my hat and gloves off, but my jacket open too.

There would be another call of nature for me after 14 kilometres (effectively breaking the entire course up into thirds), but after that I really started hauling it, and I started to calculate that a 2:04 or even 2:02 finish was within reach.

The final 3 kilometres or so went along the golf cart paths of the golf course itself.  It was kind of fun, but the twists and turns and hills really did a number on my pace.  I talked with other runners after the race and they all felt the same way about it.  I climbed out of the golf course and sprinted down the road and into the car entrance of Angus Glen toward the finish line.  Official time: 2:02:34 - I think if I could have had better bladder management (for lack of a better term), I could have cracked the 2 hour mark for this half-marathon.  I still pleased, because I know the speed is there now - or more accurately, the pain threshold is higher since my half-iron training.

The post-race brunch consisted of a brown bag with a sandwich and a couple of other cold foods - which is a step down from the hot brunches that they used to provide.  I really, really love the race shirt (which is a long sleeve - a very refreshing switch from the endless supply of short sleeve t-shirts I've accrued over the years). Have a look:

The Angus Glen Half-Marathon is a nice race for this time of year, where it's harder to find a race of this length and calibre, but I'm not sure I'm really stoked to do it again next year - I think we're still dealing with the Daylight Savings time change physiologically speaking.  I've almost never had so much of a problem dragging myself out of bed on a race morning.  Still, it was a day of running in the sunshine with friends and family, and that's worth a smile.  See?

Friday, October 16, 2015

Introducing the FAT Project

Do you like transformation stories (as in, whole body makeovers/big weight loss success stories)? I confess, they are generally not my thing, but in this case, I'll make an exception, maybe because the end goal of this one is to become an Olympic distance (not in the actual Olympic Games, mind you), triathlete, and because it's a friend.

Paul McIntyre Royston named his weight-loss effort/triathlon dream the FAT Project not to invoke the pejorative use of the word FAT... it's actually an acronym for Food Addict to Triathlete.

One of the last times I saw Paul in person was the Wasaga Triathlon in 2008 (sadly, I don't have a recap of that race as I wasn't blogging regularly yet), where he completed their Try-A-Tri event of a 375 m swim, a 10 km bike and a 2.5 km run.  He'd spent the summer getting healthier, and completing the race was the culmination of that effort.  Sadly, the results didn't stick, which can be a problem in getting healthy for any of us.

He's now over 400 lbs, living in Calgary with his wife and 3 daughters, but this time, he's building a village, or at least surrounding himself with a team.  His weight loss efforts will be medically supervised by a doctor, dietician and nutritionist.  He's also documenting everything through a website, with a PR firm and Film company on board to capture the big milestones on his journey.  And of course, putting his message out there helps with accountability, so there's a full on social media campaign too, see below.


I'm really excited to be able to follow Paul on his journey - I think it's going to be uplifting and a lot of fun, and I'll hope you'll join me in cheering him on!

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Barrelman Triathlon Recap: The Race

If you haven’t read Part 1 of my Barrelman Weekend Recap, you can find it here.

The Swim

So there I was, floating in a sea of red swim caps.  Though I had picked the less crowded side of the overall swim lane, I noticed it had filled in with new bodies behind me.  I guessed I’d have to justify my confidence in my swim pace.  Toot went the horn, and the swim began.

As I mentioned last post, the Welland International Flatwater Centre is used for various boat races, and you couldn’t find a better venue for an open water swim.  For starters, the word ‘flatwater’ is right there in the title; it’s not a large lake with waves (nor any boat traffic - but more on this in a bit).  Some swimmers claimed there was a current, but I couldn’t detect any.  We swam more or less one kilometre to the other end, and there were even signs on the shore every 250m or so which not only helped you keep track of your progress it was great for motivation - you didn’t need to be at 750m (for example) but merely knowing you were coming up on your next milestone was a great mental boost.

Traffic collisions were a factor, including one punch in the face I took in the first 100m.  I wasn’t expecting it to be that bad, but maybe I’ve been spoiled by the Bracebridge Triathlon this year, or maybe lane isn’t wide enough for that many swimmers to spread out without some bump and grind.  

At one end of the course there were lime green buoys which you kept on your right, cornered to cross to the other side, then straight back to the starting end of the course; navigation could not be simpler - everything is straight lines and 90 degree turns.  On the way back, the distance signs seemed less visible, maybe they were obscured by bushes, so I didn’t rely on them as much.  There were some small white (and orange) buoys that must serve some purpose for the boat races which had the potential for collisions, but I mostly swam right past them without incident (I think I hit one head on, and it cost me all of a second or two to get dislodged).  Somewhere in the last 400m or so, I found myself boxed in by other swimmers on all sides.  To whoever’s legs I swam over, I apologize, but ultimately I think I saved us all a few bumps by getting to the outside and passing that way.

I did most of the swim on auto-pilot without really giving much thought to my pace, and I think that worked out in my favour.  I neither overdid it nor slacked off too much, based on my time.  I had hoped to complete in 38 minutes, but it was 40.  On the other hand, my Garmin shows I kept an average pace of 1:54/100m for over 2100m.  I was initially expecting the official 1900m, but the race day literature mentioned a 2km swim (and 89km bike ride instead of 90).  The Garmin map shows I did do some zig-zagging, but nothing to be ashamed of.

Swim Stats: 2112m in 0:40:00.

Transition 1

After the swim exit you ran past the grandstand to hear people on the bleachers cheering you on (thanks guys!) and up some stairs into the transition zone.  Bike racks were organized by bib number, and each number had a designated spot that we all had identified the day before.  I took my time in this transition, and once my wet-suit was off, I made a bathroom break - I was going to make the next 90 (or 89) kilometers as comfortable as possible.  My biggest struggle in T1 is managing my Garmin while taking off the wet-suit.  I don’t trust the sleeve to be able to go over the Garmin on my wrist, so I take the Garmin off, and juggle it while I’m stripping.  The upshot was that I left the wrist band behind while mounting the Garmin onto the bike mount.  I stuffed everything in the black bag that would be transported to the finish area, and walked my bike out of transition (helmet on, of course).

T1 Stats: 0:05:40.6


Once I mounted, the first few hundred meters were a little bumpy; my hydration bottle kept spraying droplets onto me and my bike, but most importantly my phone.  I had promised to text my wife at the end of each leg, and I hadn’t punched in “Swim Done” while in transistion.  I stopped just before a bridge where the road part of the course started to open up and struggled with reading the screen in the intense sunlight, with the stains not making it any easier (I keep my phone in a Lifeproof Case, if you’re wondering how I’m able to risk taking it along in all these extreme circumstances - here is an affiliate link for some of their products).  Once I had sent that first text, I got down to business.

The course had been described as having segments “The Out”, “The Loop”, “The Back” and “The Ride to Niagara Falls”.  “The Out” was the first 20km and very straight along a road called Feeder.  It was easy going, and I was averaging over 30 km/h while feeling like I was just on an easy spin.  In hindsight, I think I had a tailwind.

“The Loop” took us down to the shore of Lake Erie.  I tried to take photos of several things while riding, but as I mentioned, the glare made it difficult to see what I was doing, especially while riding.  It probably wasn’t worth the risk, and the camera didn’t take pictures when I thought it did.  Once I hit the shore of Lake Erie, the view was so beautiful, I had to actually stop and pull over to capture this shot.  
Lake Erie

At aid station #1 they had a bottle exchange, but I stuck to my aero bottle in my handlebars.  I figured I still had plenty of drink in there, and only grabbed a gel for later.  I had been eating GoMacro bars until that point.  Somewhere near the halfway mark I switched to a Clif Bar.  I began to notice the wind.  It always felt like a headwind, no matter what, but I think for the most part, it came at a kind of diagonal.  I saw the impressive wind turbines which had been mentioned in the pre-race briefing, and I figured (according to the laws of thermodynamics) they must be slowing the wind down at least a little.  Thanks wind turbines!

It was turning into a bit of a slog for the way back from “The Loop”.  My neck and shoulders were beginning to hurt in aero position.  Reaching the second aid station at 57km was quite a relief, and I opted to make it a bit of an extended break.

After taking that video, I rode about another 2 km. I was heading down a nice downhill stretch toward one of the more interesting features of the bike course - a tunnel under the Welland canal - when I felt my rear wheel go directly over a rock. That's not good, I thought. I rode through the tunnel, and started climbing up the hill on the other side when I felt a familiar rhythm under my saddle - whump, whump, whump. I stopped and felt my rear tire - it was a little soft and getting softer. A flat. On the biggest race of my life (so far).

Having had an ambivalent attitude toward motivation the whole race helped me not panic and freak out. Obviously I wasn't going to set any impressive time now, I just needed to focus on getting the tire fixed. I had wisely opted to take along my repair pouch rather than extra bottles behind my seat. I actually saw another rider a mere 200m up the road from me that had the same problem. I walked my bike up to where he was (with a runner who seemed to be helping out) under the guise of "misery loves company" but the truth was that I wanted guidance on fixing the problem. I'd practised switching out a tube enough times at home, but I felt a little less comfortable using a pressurized CO2 cartridge. They're expensive, so I didn't like the idea of using one when I didn't have to.

The other guy was having no luck with his CO2 cartridge, and blamed the valve he was using, so I offered him mine. Once I had my new inner tube installed on the wheel, I waited for him to give me my valve back. It hadn't worked for him, and sure enough, it didn't work for me and my lone cartridge either. Luckily, the runner volunteered to run back to the aid station, where a repair van from VeloFix. We waited for a bit, and sure enough the van pulled up, and was able to inflate my tire with the all the effort of pulling the trigger of a motorized pump. I was off, and though I hadn't watched the clock at the time (in the interest of staying calm), I had blown over 30 minutes on the entire misadventure.

There would be just over 30 km left to ride, and those clicks became more and more painful. Maintaining aero position was doing a number on my neck, and I was compensating by having my head tilted more forward, which reduced my field of vision to only a few meters in front of me - not good, not safe. I started to come up on my brake hoods, and abandoned aero position altogether. No body position was helping my neck at all - I wished I could have rode "no hands" and sat upright. Somehow I finished the ride, but the last 10 km were at a very low speed; it's a shame I was in such a bad state, because that seemed to be very pretty countryside.

I pulled into the T2 transition area, wondering if I should bother trying to finish at all.

Bike Stats : 88.99km in 3:52:40

Transition 2:

I got off the bike and went through the motions of going out for the run. That became the strategy: simply try to put my legs on auto-pilot and see what happened. If my neck pain didn't decrease in the first two kilometres, I think I would have packed it in. Shoes were on, and out the run exit I went.

T2 Stats - 0:5:45.7


The good news was that my neck stopped hurting pretty fast as soon as I was upright. For the bad news, I need to know if you've heard of an entity known as the Blerch, as featured on Matthew Inman's webcomic, the Oatmeal. If not, head over there and come back. Now I remembered the Blerch as a demon of general self-doubt more than one of sloth and laziness, and to me, that was what he represented. I generally try to keep the language on this blog pretty clean, but right here, I'm going to pull out some much saltier stuff, so if that offends you, you can skip the next paragraph.

For all 21 km, the Blerch and I had a knock-down, drag-em-out street fight; I'm talking about head-butts, knee-cap kicks, elbow strikes, groin shots, kidney punches, rabbit punches, biting, scratching, fish-hooking, you name it, for every inch of that course, that motherfucker and I went at it. "What are you even doing?" ... "A real man would be at that hospital with his family!" "What do you think you're going to prove? Are you supposed to be some kind of hero? Big deal, like a million people have already done this distance, and most on harder courses, in less time." In short, I felt like I didn't have the right to be there, 6 months of training or not, but my legs kept moving.

The only way to take the fight back to my own Blerch, was to try to finish, and do it with a smile on my face. That meant trying to enjoy the weather, the locale and the environment in general.

This put a smile on my face within the first kilometre... it was almost exactly what I was thinking at the time.
It was a two-loop course, and it was later in the day, and I probably looked like I might be fast enough to be on my second loop, but it was a little demotivating having spectators tell me I was "almost done" with less than a quarter of the running mileage under my belt.

The aid stations were nice and frequent, just about every kilometre I think (my memory has gotten fuzzy as it's taken a long time for me to get this post written). I turned down Coke at my first opportunity, but it wasn't a mistake I was going to repeat, and I think I had it every chance I got after that. Coke's gotten some bad press lately, but caffeine and sugar felt pretty good to me at that stage; it didn't even matter when it started to get luke-warm and flat.

The run course took us through some lovely parks in the area.
There was plenty of variety on the run course. Shady parks were one of my favourites, but there was a climb that got you to a decent vantage over the falls, then you wound through a pedestrian pathway and stairs in the "downtown" of Niagara Falls, then around to main strip where you could keep the Falls on your left while being gawked at by tourists. The mists cooling you off was an added bonus.

I was closing in on 9-10 km when I remembered there was a cut-off time for completing the first loop... but I didn't know what time that was. John Salt, the race director, had mentioned that exceptions could be made if they felt your first loop time wasn't representative of your potential finish time. I got panicky, because I doubted that would be the case. I kept asking volunteers if they knew the first loop cut-off time, and they didn't. The Blerch had me in a choke-hold - I reckoned if I didn't make the cut-off, I wouldn't argue the point and fight for my finish. A volunteer told me the overall cut-off time was 5:00PM, so it turned out I was fine, but running alongside so many others who were finishing only to make a turn and head out for another loop was disheartening.

A hawk, watching the procession.  Apparently I have time to bird-watch while tri-ing
While the fatigue was certainly there, my spirits lifted with the idea that I could (and probably would) get the job done and finish that race. More coke, more bananas, more water, more smiles and jokes with the volunteers. I tried to find things that would amuse me.
NO STOPPING: Traffic instruction or Mantra? You don't have to decide.
The course went by Marineland... I wished a dolphin would splash me to cool me off
The kilometres kept ticking off, and soon the end was in sight. Without having to chase a time goal, I wanted to cross the finish line in style. Some click their heels, but that is NOT my style. I wanted to try a cartwheel, but I didn't think my body was up for it, so I opted for what I thought was the Ickey Shuffle (named after Bengals Fullback Elbert "Ickey" Woods), but I must have mis-remembered it, and mixed it up with some of Cuba Gooding Jr.'s steps from Jerry Maguire. Behold, the Iron Rogue Shuffle.

Run Stats : 20.13 km in 2:27:03

I got my medal. I got my free hat. I found a shady place to lie down. I called my wife, and simply said "It's done." I was emotional, but not entirely happy. The entire race I had been questioning this whole multi-sport, outdoor, active adventure lifestyle we pursue as a family. All the kinds of things you've read about in my posts (unless this is your first time visiting - in which case, stick around and see what we've gotten up to).

I'd given up a chance to be with my wife and child during a hospital visit (they were discharged shortly before the swim began). During the six months prior to the race, several times I'd been gone for hours off on a run or a bike ride. When things didn't go my way in regards to my training, I was probably a miserable dick (sorry again about the language) to be around. I craved "normal", and promised everyone more time, and more of me for the next year at least. Living the adventure has had costs, and I wasn't sure of the rewards anymore.


It's been weeks since I finished, and I've tried to fill in the time I used to spend training with "normal" people activities. The kinds of errands that seemed to get put off - a couple of have been completed, but many seem to rely on others, or bureaucracy so they're incomplete, and the time I spent on them feels wasted. I guess that's what I love about endurance sport - I put my own time in, and my effort dictates my results. A half-hour spent running equals a half-hour spent running.

One thing that has filled in the void left by a half-iron training plan is work. It's a big reason why this post hasn't been published before now; and while I'm not lazy and I'm willing to put in an honest day's work, my father told me that no-one ever lies on their death bed wishing they spent more time at the office.

Lastly, just 20 minutes before I started writing this paragraph, my wife told me about how well he does somersaults in his Acro Dance class, or more to the point, how much some of the other kids struggled with them. I don't know all the science, but even if they hadn't had formal instruction in gymnastics and other activities, we let our kids "off the leash" enough (especially in the outdoors) that they're able to make the neural connections to integrate various body movements and have body awareness enough to learn complex movements in a hurry.

So maybe we won't give up our active family (multi-sport) lifestyle just yet. After all, what else am I going to write about?

Friday, September 25, 2015

Barrelman Triathlon Recap - Part 1: Pre-Race

I’ve read triathlon race recaps that have to be broken up into several parts; I used to complain (to myself) that they were too long, but I think I get it now.  A lot goes into these longer races, and my experience at the Barrelman Triathlon fits the bill.  I learned a lot, felt a lot, suffered a lot, smiled a lot.  So, while I’m not sure how to break up the actual race experience, I’m going to devote this post to everything leading up to my swim start.

On the Saturday, we took the Kids to Ashbridges Bay for the Beaches Kids of Steel Duathlon.  I wanted to devote my energy to getting the Lightning Kid through his first race, and it turned out we had registered Shark Boy for the age 6-7 category, which meant no parents on the race course.  Luckily, he’s always been able to roll with changing circumstances, and he’s done enough of these to feel confident.

Taking the Lightning Kid through his race acted as a nice little shake-out run for me, and he did a fantastic job.  He ran the first leg (50m) hard enough to get a little gassed, and I helped him with his helmet and bike.  He walked the bike (which he didn’t get to practice much before hand) out of transition to the mount line, and then we took off.  There were occasional stops to look at dogs, and I’m actually proud he chose to dismount for the one part where a decline was too steep - discretion is the better part of valour, after all.  Not that he lacks guts; he managed to get his glider bike up the biggest incline on the course (600m) and rode quickly back into transition.  The way to get him to keep up the pace was simply to say “FAST!”.... I must have said it 100 times in the race.  We headed out for the final run (100m) and before I knew it he was crossing the finish line to collect his medal, and his high-fives of course.

Shark Boy had to tackle new distances this year.  I already mentioned how well he dealt with having his expectations subverted - this was a big deal, since he hasn’t turned 6 yet, and was expecting to win or place in a race where everyone was younger or smaller.  In the 6-7 age category, he’s a small fish in the big pond again.  He handled all the distances (longer than he’s experienced before 250m run, 1.0km bike, 100m run) no problem, and I explained that running with the big dogs and not coming first was worth more than coming in first in a contest that is easy.  He seemed to get it.

After a celebratory round on a trampoline they had there, we headed home and I got to packing.  I had intended to dash off right after the kids’ race, but with the mandatory athlete briefings at 2:30 and 5:00, I could opt for the second one and linger a bit.  I figured I’d be leaving my wife with both of them for the rest of the night, so whatever I could do to lessen the load before leaving was a good move.  The Lightning Kid was tired, so I helped get him down for a nap, and apparently the plan was to go see a movie, Shaun the Sheep, which would be the Lightning Kid’s first trip to the movie theatre.  I left the house at 2:00PM for the drive to Welland, and got a text message that while they were all playing in the back yard, Shark Boy had locked his mother out of the house in a fit of pique.  Guess he’s the one who should have had a nap - not a good sign for peace on the home front.

The drive to Welland was peppered with rain showers and some downpours, but the forecast for Sunday/Race Day was good, so I didn’t get too worried; I just didn’t like my bike getting wet on my car roof.  The swim and T1 were located at the Welland International Flatwater Centre which is used for open water races such as Dragon Boating, Kayak, and Rowing.  I got my race kit/swag, different gear bags and timing chips.  The rain kept me from experiencing the exhibitors at the expo, and some were packing up for the day anyway.  I did get a chance to talk to Jessica from LifeSport Coaching about getting our kids involved in multi-sport; getting them on bikes seems to be a common difficulty.
The Welland International Flatwater Centre in the rain

I was on Periscope a fair bit that day, and I've compiled all the scopes I did on Saturday into one video:

As you can see, I got my race kit, scoped out the swim venue as best I could, spied on bikes and drove to Niagara Falls. During the race briefing, they mentioned several spots on the road where large trucks carrying the blades for wind turbines had damaged the roads. I knew those wind turbines would be an interesting sight on the ride, and it certainly was windy in the general area.

From Welland, I made my way to the Chippawa area of Niagara Falls, where I stayed in a cheap motel steps away from Kingsbridge Park where the T2 transition area was to be. I described the motel as a "great place for a drug deal to go bad", it reeked of cigarette smoke, had borderline no hot water, and various other failings, but it had free wifi, the owner was a nice enough fellow, and it was one of the better deals for accommodation in the local area.

I organized my gear into the various bags (black was to keep my wet-suit and anything else I would drop in T1 - Welland to be transported to the race finish, red had anything I'd need in T2 for the run, and a clear bag for anything I'd need after the race was done like clean, dry clothes), then tried to go to sleep.

I got a late night text message. The Lightning Kid was having difficulty breathing; throughout the cold and flu season this seems to happen. He wakes up wheezing, and difficulty breathing is pretty serious. When we take him to the hospital emergency room, sometimes it's not really anything, but at least once he's had pneumonia. This time ended up being one of the worse ones - my wife stayed up with him from 10 PM to 3 AM before taking him to the hospital - he would be put on an oxygen mask and given oral steroids for the better part of Sunday morning. Plan A had been for my mother to take care of the kids so my wife could take a bus to Niagara Falls and cheer me on for the run portion, and we'd take Sunday night as a romantic getaway. Instead, my mother went to the hospital to assist my wife, Shark Boy went to his grandfather's house for Sunday, and I would race alone.

Of course, a big part of me was questioning what kind of man I was, not being at the side of my wife and family, and instead gallivanting about in some vain attempt to prove something... to who? For what? Did I think I was some kind of hero or something? Then I'd argue that I'd come this far (including a fair distance from the hospital and home), and I should try to enjoy the day. So my mindset went from giving my all to simply trying to auto-pilot my way through the race and soaking in some of the experience while fighting the temptation to throw in the towel and go home to take care of business on the home front.

I drove to the parking lot of the Rapidsview Park (getting a little lost on the way), with plenty of time to spare. I'm guessing I caught one of the first shuttle buses. Though I joked to the crowd:"Anyone feel like doing a little swimming, biking and running today?" my mood was dark and I mostly kept to myself on the bus ride back to Welland.

I verified my fear that I hadn't packed my timing chip into any of my gear bags, it was still back in my car. This is the kind of little mistake that is no big deal when you arrive with time to spare, but the end of the world when you're running late. Fortunately, I fell into the former camp and joked with the volunteers about being in a special little club with other who had done the same.

I set up my transition area, including mounting my phone on my bike, but not before I took my last selfie before the swim.

I headed down to the water and waded in to get a few practice strokes in. The water was surpisingly warm, and the swim was less about a warm-up than just checking that the wet-suit was on comfortably. I met my friend Peter, and helped him with his Garmin. The elite and first two swim waves went off starting at 9:00 and every 5 minutes after that. You could start on either side of this floating divider, and though they encouraged faster swimmers to go on the far side of it, the far side was more crowded so I ended up floating on the side closer to shore as I waited for the horn to go off.

I had a long day ahead of me.

To be continued!

You can still donate to my RODS Racing Page to aid in the adoption of an orphan with Down syndrome.

Monday, September 21, 2015

Half-Iron Rogue

So this happened...

Race recap of the Barrelman Half-Distance Triathlon to come soon!

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Looking Ahead to Barrelman, Looking Back on the Training Season

This is the final week of “training” before the Barrelman Triathlon.  I put training in quotation marks, because between lower back pain, a head cold (that descended to my chest on Sunday), and some of the rainiest weather I’ve seen in at least a month, I haven’t been hitting a lot of workouts.  I thank my lucky stars that I’m tapering, and the workouts don’t count as much (or at least that’s how I’m consoling myself).  

The good news is that I’ve gotten chiropractic treatment for my back and it’s been improving slowly yet steadily, and I’ve got until next Sunday to shake this cold.  Doctor Wife’s prescription is to be in bed by 10:00PM (N.B. my wife is not a doctor, but I still think it’s a good prescription).

I’m feeling ambivalent about the last few weeks of training that I’ve been through.  On the one hand, I’ve hit new records for distance in every sport (all time distance for open water swim and bike, and 2 year records for running, pool swim record probably occurred earlier in the season), I’m faster and stronger than I’ve probably ever been, and I’m thankful that I’ve been able to undertake the journey at all.  Still, I feel controlled by the program: Monday=Strength, Tuesday=Swim+Run and so on.  I was watching a Periscope a few weeks ago where the host was distinguishing between exercise and training.  If I understood her correctly, training has a finite goal, and is structured to serve that purpose, whereas exercise is more about general maintenance, health and fun.  I commented that I missed exercise and was sick of training, but I don’t think I really made myself clear. I just want to take an exercise class for fun sometimes, without questioning which of the 3 masters (Swim, Bike, Run) I'm serving.
This needs updating with a bunch of other new ideas...

I'm already wondering what I'm going to do with myself when it's done; which feels like a mistake, because I haven't finished the race yet. Still, stay with me for a bit while I ruminate. Most of all, I want to re-devote my time to my family; while I think I did 'Walk The Line' the way I said I would on my Vision Board, how can I ever really give enough? Big ticket items include volunteering with Shark Boy's Beaver Scout Colony and helping the Lightning Kid with speech and occupational Therapy work.

The race weekend is going to be a hectic one. On Friday, I turn 42, so this race is kind of my birthday present to myself, and the sacrifices my family has made are the only presents I really wanted. Saturday will see us put both boys in the Family Fun Fit Beaches Kids of Steel Duathlon. This will be Shark Boy's fourth year, but the Lightning Kid's first. He's been really improving on a glider bike, and participated in a bike camp during the summer to get better on a pedal bike with training wheels. The trick will be keeping him focused on forward motion rather than waving at fans. He also does fall off sometimes, and even steers into his father's legs (trying to cause a DNS no doubt). From the race, I'm going to Welland to set up my T1 and bike, pick up my race kit and get informed and oriented, then I head to a cheap motel in Niagara Falls on my own. My wife will be in Niagara Falls on Sunday to cheer me on (for the run leg) and then we'll have our romantic getaway night... sore muscles and all.

Remember, you can still sponsor me and donate to RODS Racing; we're still short of sending Laura home to a loving family. I'll be wearing my official kit if you see me there! Wish me luck this weekend!

Wednesday, September 9, 2015

RESTUBE - How To Enjoy Your Safest Triathlon Open Water Swim

Disclaimer: I was provided with the product for review purposes and compensated for preparing the review.  All opinions are my own.

I write about triathlon, I read about triathlon, and I talk about triathlon to people both in real life and online. What's keeping most non-triathletes from participating in the sport, as far as I can tell, is swimming.  Improving your swim is as straightforward as spending time practising in your local pool.

What unnerves even experienced triathletes who have logged countless hours in the pool is swimming in the open water.  For example, see Organic Runner Mom here, or Fitness Cheerleader here.  While I see this as mostly a psychological hang-up, it is true that open water swimming carries a little more risk than the pool: you might not be able to see or touch the bottom, there are wind and waves (or maybe even current) to deal with, there could even be an encounter with watercraft or wildlife.  Yet training your open water swim is very necessary to a triathlete; unless every race you compete in is in a pool, you'll need to deal with some of the aforementioned factors, as well as skills like sighting, bilateral breathing and rounding corners, or simply the novel sensation of wearing a wet-suit.