You bet I can!

Yesterday afternoon, I received a FedEx package containing my team uniform for the 2013 ITU Long Course World Championship in Belfort, France on June 1.  It was terribly fun digging into the package of goodies, which included both my tri-suit as well as great warm up jacket, arm warmers, track pants and a running shirt.

The quirky part about the uniform is that "Canada" is abbreviated into "CAN" on the front of the tri suit - so I am sporting the phrase "FRANK CAN" across my chest.  This of course has led to a lot of humor at my expense.  I'm just grateful it doesn't say FRANK CANNOT!

With less than a month until race day, I've adjusted my expectations but am looking forward to my first tri of 2013.  I will show up on race day as well equipped as possible for the day - this may not mean an A race is in the cards, but at the same time, I am extremely thankful that my health is starting to bounce back a little.  Coach Bjoern has been really awesome at adjusting my training schedule and intensity, and for the first time in six months, I am starting to feel more energetic.  The understanding that sometimes sleep and rest is as, or more, important than putting in training hours is an epiphany.  I also expect the welcome addition of sunshine and extra daylight training hours helps enormously...as does the "I have a new bike so I must ride" phenomenon!

Introducing....Pepper!

Pepper the P5 joined the Frank bike stable in March, and is finally seeing some off-trainer riding thanks to the recent sunny weather.  Yes, she is fast.  Yes, she is pretty.  And yes, I did have to give her a (stupid) name.  I wouldn't have it any other way!  Huge thanks to Jeremy and Murray at Speed Theory for all their patience and time in getting her ordered, fit, assembled and ready to ride.

Along with the joy of sunny training days and new equipment to try out, the fun of experiencing season "firsts" is also incredibly motivating.  The first century ride, the first Cypress climb, the first ride without toe covers (!!) and the first hot weather brick workout bonk. :)  With the long, rainy days hopefully behind us for another season, I remember well why I love riding and running so much!

Thoughts on Boston

I gave a lot of thought as to whether it was appropriate to express my reaction to Monday's events at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.  So much has already been written without having answers to the questions that we all have, and I expect that in the coming days, months and years we will continue to ask questions even as we learn more.  I feel it is wrong to speculate, and I also feel that words cannot even begin to express my sympathy to those impacted by what has happened.  However, it just feels inauthentic to write about anything else, feign happiness or ignore what for the last two days has weighed heavily on my mind.

The horrible details we do know (from various news sources) are absolutely heartwrenching.  As the story unfolds, I am in equal parts saddened, confused and shocked.  To call what happened a tragedy, particularly where small children are amongst the victims, is an incredible understatement.  I respect and understand that violence occurs all over the world, all the time, and for many meaningless reasons.  In no way do I suggest that we interpret what happened irrationally or imply that an exaggerated reaction is appropriate, nor is this intended to be political rhetoric.  All I am saying is that what happened in Boston, quite simply, makes my heart feel extremely heavy.    

What unfolded Monday evoked a profound emotional impact reaction in me.  On Monday night, I woke three times in a sweat from a repetitive nightmare where I was unable to find my father at that finish line, where he stood only 5 years ago.  I am fortunate to be able to have crossed that iconic finish line four times, and each one of those years had friends and family supporting me and/or racing with me.  The thought that the devastation unleashed on Monday could have as easily been directed at my friends and family absolutely destroys me.  No one should die or suffer violence while spectating at a race.

Anyone who has experienced Boston on race day, as a runner or a spectator (and, for that matter, any race, anywhere) understands the energy and the magic that happens there.  Marathons are the culmination of dreams, sweat and effort beyond comparison - a testament to the human spirit, and to me, everything that is right about life.  The sport encompasses people of all origins, all nationalities, all orientations...such that I am hard pressed to imagine what could have possibly motivated such an attack.

There were people who could not understand why yesterday I wore my Boston finisher's t-shirt to work, or why I shed tears on Monday afternoon.  I get that.  Those are, however, the same people that will never understand why I lace up to run in the rain, log solitary mile after mile, endure through injuries and sacrifice to reach my athletic goals.  Yet, I am not dissuaded.  In the aftermath of what has happened, runners and the endurance community have banded together.  After all, we are endurance athletes.  We pick ourselves up and persevere against the odds, and we know how to continue moving forward even when it gets tough to do so.

Will I live in fear?  Will I stop racing?  No.  I'll keep doing so for the same reasons I always have...because it helps me make sense of a world that is at times senseless.

My first Boston finish.  

Iron, man.

My surgery in November had a number of complications, one of which was blood loss that led to the modification of my "minimally invasive" procedure to one involving a lengthier recovery.  I lost nearly a litre of blood, which I have been told is approximately a quarter of the blood volume in someone my size.  Not ideal.

My focus had been almost exclusively on physiological recovery, and I had not given much thought to the implications on a cellular level.  When I started running and cycling in January,  I naively thought it would be back to business as usual.  Although I felt constantly fatigued, out of breath and terribly out of shape, I attributed the way I felt to the long period of inactivity.  Suck it up, buttercup.    

Short tempo runs were exhausting.  Leg speed was non-existent.  Getting out of bed was hard, but training was even harder.  I constantly had the sniffles, caught the flu three times and was cold...all the time.  Track and swim sets left me nauseous and out of breath.  Despite the sheer joy of being able to race again, understanding exactly how my legs had turned to lead in three months was a frustration.  With a couple of years of ironman training behind me, I have grown accustomed to feeling tired and kept telling myself to suck it up.  However, realizing that even something as simple as a track workout will leave you physically destroyed is not a good feeling.

Then, two weeks ago, came an "aha" moment.

Blood test results came back indicating my ferritin level was 19, a third of what it had been in the fall, pre-surgery.  While this is considered within low end of "normal" range for a female, it borders on anemic.  For a female endurance athlete, it is just downright too low (it is generally suggested that a level below 30 in a female athlete will cause performance issues).  Low iron means too little oxygen is being delivered to my muscles...meaning all of the symptoms I was experiencing make a whole lot of sense.

In general, I am pretty regimented with my diet and feel that I am quite knowledgeable about performance nutrition.  Even so, the last couple of weeks have been a bit of a crash course in damage control through diet!  While the low iron levels are most certainly due to blood loss from surgery rather than a chronic condition, my diet is the single biggest way that I can impact my iron stores right now. 

It has been interesting to learn more about the various sources of dietary iron and ways to maximize iron absorption through diet.  For instance, vitamin C is thought to enhance absorption (oranges...good!) whereas calcium and food with tannins are thought to inhibit it (large latte..bad!).  Always a sucker for developing meal plans, this new focus definitely makes my diet even more *weird* than before!  Low-sugar, high-iron, gluten-free, high-protein, low-fat, caffeine-free...anyone?  That really ought to make you want to come to a dinner party at my place. ;)         

My new morning and evening cocktail. 

Luckily, a diet in iron does not necessarily mean having to choke down liver and onions (sorry, mom, I really do hate that sh*t).  Iron comes in two types:  heme (the most absorptive), which is found in animal products, and non-heme, which is found in vegetables and grains.  I do eat red meat a couple times a week, but was excited to see that other types of protein (such as mussels, tofu and eggs) rate highly.  Green and leafy, another staple of mine, also factors well.   Moules frites...yes!  Chocolate...yes!  

While it remains to be seen whether the focus on diet will positively and beneficially impact my iron levels (the next blood panel is in May), the biggest lesson I have learned is that toughing it out is not always the right answer.   Distinguishing *good* fatigue from a real physiological problem can be a bit of a challenge, but I need to get better at it.  In retrospect, the nagging fatigue was a pretty good indicator that it wasn't just me being a softie (which, for the record, I kind of am).   Swim, bike, run may be on the schedule...but rest, recovery, diet and taking care of myself are equally important to my performance as an athlete.  

A spring surprise!

I did not know Mary Leliveld, but various sources on the internet tell me that she was an enthusiastic, talented runner, cyclist and age-group triathlete whose days of competition were cut way too short. She passed away, too young, at the age of 40 due to melanoma, but left behind her a legacy of inspiration.

Through Triathlon BC, the Mary Leliveld Fund finances a bursary to enable age-group triathletes to achieve their dreams through sport, and in particular, to help BC triathletes travel to Worlds.

Earlier this week, Triathlon BC announced that I am the 2013 recipient of the Mary Leliveld bursary. I feel grateful, humbled and appreciative. It is a privilege to be recognized, but also a challenge to live up to the expectation.

I would like to believe that I am the type of athlete envisioned when this fund was established – one who engages in the sport for the love of it. As a relative newbie to triathlon, I have been challenged without limit and feel incredibly lucky to have had the opportunity to train and race for nearly four years.

In learning a little more about Mary Leliveld's life and legacy, I am reminded of the reason why I chose to and continue be a triathlete. The opportunity to compete for Canada at the ITU long-distance World Championship in June in Belfort, France is a privilege, to be certain, but it is not what drives me. Long-term, the goal is not the personal best or the time on the clock, not the bragging rights to a crazy workout and certainly not the finisher medal or the Kona slot. To the best of my knowledge, no one has ever inscribed their Ironman time on their gravestone (at least I would hope not!). In the long run, it matters not.

What matters most is how I feel. Being healthy. Feeling alive. Those way-too early alarm clocks, the long brick workouts in the rain and the fourteen loads of laundry per week have a higher purpose and a greater reward in store. It's quite possibly the perfect life...to no one but me :)

I am a triathlete because swimming, biking and running to the best of my ability makes me happy, pure and simple. With any luck, I will be fortunate enough to continue to do so for years to come.

Huge thanks to Triathlon BC!

run.happy

Twelve weeks ago, I was in post-op at UBC hospital.  If you would have told me that day that I would be running a half-marathon by February I would have giggled at your optimism.

But optimism rules the day.

I knew when I signed up for the First Half in mid-January that I would be going into the race to finish, period.  No expectations.  It was the longest run I've done since Kona, but I am feeling pretty grateful to be back running since the beginning of January.  Lacking speed work and endurance, less than three months after major abdominal surgery, the race strategy was simple:  go til you can't go any longer, then finish.

Pain.  Sweat.  High-fives.  Sunshine.  And the first finish line of 2013!

Hello 2013

2012 was sneaky and real.  But real is good.  I was required to look very carefully at myself, my goals and my direction, and I was forced to work hard - really really hard - for what I wanted and believed in. Most importantly, as circumstances would have it, I was also obliged to take a big, long break when all my head wanted to do was keep moving.  It's quite amazing what you discover when you slow down a little.

The year was an interesting journey, to say the least. If defined by race results alone, 2012 would categorically be summarized as thumbs-down. But luckily, aside from the racing and training, there was everything that happened in between.

The everything-in-between was sometimes inspiring, sometimes frustrating. But I chose it and I lived it.  For real.

I reached. I stretched. I suffered. I dreamed. I grew.

Most importantly, I discovered something pretty amazing, which is that everything works itself out.  At 11:59 pm on December 31, 2012, I was in precisely the exact place I wanted to be at that moment.  And, even more powerful, I possessed the knowledge that I get to live the life of my dreams, every single day. I am pretty damned lucky, and pretty damned appreciative.

To be fair, it matters not to me that it is a new year. Like 2012 and all the years that preceded it, I have no silly resolutions that start on January 1 and randomly end sometime in mid-spring.  You won't find me making empty promises.

Yesterday, I put on my runners and went for a run on the seawall. An amazing, sunshiny, gloriously pain-free run (that ended with a soy chai latte, of course!)  After six weeks of forced inactivity (well, relative to my usual), running (even slowly) is pure pleasure.  In my happy place of sweat and breath and moving forward, I did not spend much time at all dwelling on the year that was.  I did, however, get to blissfully daydream about everything I am going to do this day, this year and in the future.

Pursue adventure.
Reach past fear.
Sweat.
Travel ridiculous distances on my own steam.
Chase start lines relentlessly.
Give beyond reason.
Expect nothing.
Dream without limit.
Live aloha.
Love.

The life of my dreams is a pretty fabulous one, isn't it?

Hello 2013.  I'm ready for whatever you have in store.

2012 race log

First Half Marathon - February 12 - 1:28:53 (2nd in AG)

• Sunshine Coast April Fool's Half - April 1 - 1:27:11 (1st in AG)
• Vancouver Sun Run - April 15 - 39:53
• St. Croix 70.3 - May 6 - 5:18:02 (4th in AG, 9th amateur)
• Subaru Shawnigan Lake half-iron - May 27 - 4:56:03 (1st in AG, 5th female)
• Ride to Conquer Cancer - June 16/17
• Subaru Vancouver half-iron - July 8 - 4:36:24 (1st in AG, 3rd female)
• Kelowna Gran Fondo - July 15 - 3:37:39 (1st OA female chip time, QOM)
• ITU Long Course age-group world championship - Vitoria-Gastiez, Spain - July 29 - 7:34:54 (5th AG)
• Ironman World Championship - Kona - October 13 - 10:55:59 (21st AG)