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.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
Free speed
Heads up...this post gets a little graphic, so if you are squeamish, close this link now!
At 6am on Monday morning, I checked into UBC hospital for the first surgery of my life (wisdom teeth don't count!). As someone who spends countless hours training and exercising to be in top form, the prospect of being operated on was pretty terrifying...so I was more than a little jittery when my sister dropped me off. Mantra of the day: be tough.
The issue? A uterine fibroid, not so affectionately named Freddie, that had grown to about 8cm in diameter. These kind of tumors are typically not malignant, but can cause issues if they grow too too big. For a small and active person, toting around a tumor the size of an orange is pretty damned uncomfortable, never mind racing full distance triathlon. Freddie was a real jerk and had to go.
 |
| Freddie, the jerk. Live and in person. Buh-bye! |
After a number of false starts and second opinions over the past few years, I was fortunate to find an incredible female surgeon, well-regarded in the field and extremely understanding. In particular, she was open to trying minimally invasive laparoscopic procedures and she was appreciatively sympathetic to my preference to continue to have the option of having children. Of course, in medicine there are no guarantees, but she promised to do her best.
The nurses, residents and medical staff at UBC hospital were incredible. I was made to feel at ease right up to the point that they walked me into the OR, and for that I am so appreciative. Needles, IVs and operating rooms = scary.
When I woke up in recovery, I had several nurses fussing around me and there were tubes everywhere. I asked the resident if everything went fine, and she told me there were complications that forced the surgeon to abandon the laparoscopic procedure and perform a laparotomy instead (aka abdominal surgery). I was later told that I had lost nearly a litre of blood during the procedure (about 1/4 of my blood volume), which is needless to say a pretty good reason to get 'er done the old fashioned way. The good news? Freddie is gone.
So while the recovery will take a little longer than I expected, I am grateful to be back home and starting the process of getting strong. Being healthy is truly a gift, and I am so very, very excited to spend my days going forward without that jerk Freddie hanging around. He was never a very good running partner.
So, in closing this chapter and starting the road to recovery, I thought this Freddie-related clip was so very appropriate. To Freddie the bad-ass fibroid, I bid you adieu and eff you!
Thursday, November 8, 2012
38.
By the end of this week, I will have 38 years of experience at this life thing. So, in honor of those years, here are 38 things I know to be true....
1. Cupcakes are a food group.
28. Ignore anyone who belittles you. Great people will never bring you down.
29. Being different is just...different. Embrace your individuality.
30. Alone is not lonely.
31. Training never hurts less. You just get faster (sometimes!)
32. Be unreasonable in committing to your goals.
33. Age is boring and irrelevant.
34. Wearing good shoes is worth every cent.
35. Have an excellent massage therapist, chiro and physiotherapist on speed dial.
36. Life is too short to wear uncomfortable underwear.
37. One glass of delicious wine is better than a cheap bottle.
38. Don’t dream. Do it NOW!
XX
1. Cupcakes are a food group.
2. Dogs are good people. Even if they do track mud and throw up on your new bedding.
3. The things you have done matter not. The things you are doing matter more.
4. Unabashed pop music is entirely appropriate on a running playlist.
5. Green and leafy is actually pretty tasty.
6. Running in the rain is fun.
7. Three things one should be able to say, and mean: I am sorry. I love you. I was wrong.
8. Nothing is impossible.
9. All the cool kids wear sunscreen. #lilywhite
10. I may be a tax nerd, but nerdy is sexy.
11. Germans are damned good engineers.
12. The best things made of carbon are not diamonds.
 |
| A face only a dog-mom could love. |
4. Unabashed pop music is entirely appropriate on a running playlist.
5. Green and leafy is actually pretty tasty.
6. Running in the rain is fun.
7. Three things one should be able to say, and mean: I am sorry. I love you. I was wrong.
8. Nothing is impossible.
9. All the cool kids wear sunscreen. #lilywhite
10. I may be a tax nerd, but nerdy is sexy.
11. Germans are damned good engineers.
12. The best things made of carbon are not diamonds.
13. A magic transformation happens when you swim at 5:30am! By 7am you are guaranteed to feel like you can conquer the world.
14. Soda water, not vodka cocktails.
15. It’s okay to say I love you. Often. Even if the person you say it to squirms.
16. Anything done with a smile hurts a whole lot less.
17. Food can be function…but it can also have soul.
18. If you are honest, you never have to remember.
19. The glasses and braces you had when you were 13 may go away. The pimples never do.
20. Don’t regret mistakes, just learn from them.
21. Everything happens for a reason.
22. Show appreciation.
23. Training is training. Racing is racing. And sometimes jogging is simply the best!
24. Grace trumps arrogance.
25. Surround yourself with genuine, smart and kind people, and give no time to those that hurt you.
26. Laughing at yourself is awesome.
27. Buy sh*t local. Even if it is cheaper on the internet!
14. Soda water, not vodka cocktails.
15. It’s okay to say I love you. Often. Even if the person you say it to squirms.
16. Anything done with a smile hurts a whole lot less.
 |
| Kicking it to the curb in St. Croix. |
18. If you are honest, you never have to remember.
19. The glasses and braces you had when you were 13 may go away. The pimples never do.
20. Don’t regret mistakes, just learn from them.
21. Everything happens for a reason.
22. Show appreciation.
23. Training is training. Racing is racing. And sometimes jogging is simply the best!
24. Grace trumps arrogance.
25. Surround yourself with genuine, smart and kind people, and give no time to those that hurt you.
26. Laughing at yourself is awesome.
 |
| Stuck upside down? Oh well. |
28. Ignore anyone who belittles you. Great people will never bring you down.
29. Being different is just...different. Embrace your individuality.
30. Alone is not lonely.
31. Training never hurts less. You just get faster (sometimes!)
32. Be unreasonable in committing to your goals.
33. Age is boring and irrelevant.
34. Wearing good shoes is worth every cent.
35. Have an excellent massage therapist, chiro and physiotherapist on speed dial.
36. Life is too short to wear uncomfortable underwear.
 |
| Kona undie run. It doesn't even LOOK comfortable...but those boys are pretty cute. ;) |
38. Don’t dream. Do it NOW!
XX
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
Review and renew!
A month has passed since I arrived in Kona in (what I thought was) the best shape of my life. Enthusiastic. Upbeat. Ready to go.
20/20 hindsight is beautiful. Oh, what could have been.
Instead, I caught pneumonia. More than two weeks post-Kona, and three weeks since I first started coughing, I am still breathing with half a lung and can barely get out of bed.
"But you raced with pneumonia". "You did amazing all things considered". "Just think what you could have done healthy". Yes.....I do think of this. Often. And it doesn't help.
These are the facts. They are not excuses. I gave Kona everything I had, and came up very short of what I had dreamed. Frustrating, gut-wrenching, tear-inducing short.
It takes a while for these things to sink in.
I am grateful for the opportunity to have raced in Kona, twice. Every moment I had there is a gift, and any day that culminates with crossing the finish line on Ali'i Drive can never be entirely bad.
Being who I want to be is a delicate balance of goal setting, hard work, breaking down, taking small steps, failing sometimes, putting things back together and renewing those goals. A rebuild is needed, and warranty coverage has been called in.
Great things are not built in a day. Or a season.
My initial reaction was, of course, to immediately fill the void with racing, right away. Another triathlon, a road race, a marathon.....all kinds of crazy thoughts entered my head. Yet, I reasoned that reaction was just a band-aid - my disappointment manifesting into unproductive thoughts, and not reaffirming what is important to me at all.
So, the 2012 season is over, for me. And now there is time to reflect.
I am on the reserve list until at least January. And this forced rest for my body will require me to use my head instead. It get to think, really hard, about who I am, what drives me, what I want to succeed and what goals I want to reaffirm.
I get to catch my breath, look inside (even at the things that scare me) and invest in my potential. Rest. Recover. Dream.
Down time also creates space for me to accept failing as a catalyst to reaffirming my path and not a final destination for my dreams. Failing in Kona had nothing to do with my will, or determination, or drive. Some days are just not meant to be my day, no matter how much training and planning has been invested.
But I know exactly what it feels like to have the race of my dreams. How great it feels to set a goal and crush it. And that memory is far stronger than any failure.
20/20 hindsight is beautiful. Oh, what could have been.
Instead, I caught pneumonia. More than two weeks post-Kona, and three weeks since I first started coughing, I am still breathing with half a lung and can barely get out of bed.
"But you raced with pneumonia". "You did amazing all things considered". "Just think what you could have done healthy". Yes.....I do think of this. Often. And it doesn't help.
These are the facts. They are not excuses. I gave Kona everything I had, and came up very short of what I had dreamed. Frustrating, gut-wrenching, tear-inducing short.
It takes a while for these things to sink in.
I am grateful for the opportunity to have raced in Kona, twice. Every moment I had there is a gift, and any day that culminates with crossing the finish line on Ali'i Drive can never be entirely bad.
Being who I want to be is a delicate balance of goal setting, hard work, breaking down, taking small steps, failing sometimes, putting things back together and renewing those goals. A rebuild is needed, and warranty coverage has been called in.
Great things are not built in a day. Or a season.
My initial reaction was, of course, to immediately fill the void with racing, right away. Another triathlon, a road race, a marathon.....all kinds of crazy thoughts entered my head. Yet, I reasoned that reaction was just a band-aid - my disappointment manifesting into unproductive thoughts, and not reaffirming what is important to me at all.
So, the 2012 season is over, for me. And now there is time to reflect.
I am on the reserve list until at least January. And this forced rest for my body will require me to use my head instead. It get to think, really hard, about who I am, what drives me, what I want to succeed and what goals I want to reaffirm.
I get to catch my breath, look inside (even at the things that scare me) and invest in my potential. Rest. Recover. Dream.
Down time also creates space for me to accept failing as a catalyst to reaffirming my path and not a final destination for my dreams. Failing in Kona had nothing to do with my will, or determination, or drive. Some days are just not meant to be my day, no matter how much training and planning has been invested.
But I know exactly what it feels like to have the race of my dreams. How great it feels to set a goal and crush it. And that memory is far stronger than any failure.
The pieces of the 2013 puzzle are slowly coming together. Stay tuned.....
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Kona, redux.
My day in Kona can be summed in one word: disappointing.
Putting it all in perspective (as though possible while the coca cola still has its hold on me), there were many things that went well. Training leading into the race had gone extremely well under the watchful advice of coach Bjoern, and arriving two weeks early to acclimatize was a good call.
I learned well in 2010 that Kona can be extremely unforgiving, and that understanding was reinforced today. As with any race, I have to be flexible around the things I cannot control, but Kona is particularly unkind when things go wrong.
In the days leading up to the race, I swam daily on the course to get comfortable with the aspect of the race that I find the most uncomfortable - the chaotic swim. I ate well. I rested. And I caught a nasty cough.
The head and heart were there. The training was there. And my body said no way.
I finally gave in to the cough and cold meds on Friday morning when it became apparent that I was not going to get any sleep without shutting down the incessant cough. Needless to say, not the wisest start to a seriously tough race.
The swim was just as I remembered it - terrifying. It was rough, congested and violent. The swells felt enormous, and the battering never eased up. I stayed calm, swam the entire time and did not fight it. At one point I sighted, and there were swimmers ABOVE me in a swell....it was just nuts. There is an enormous advantage to a swimmer here and unfortunately, that I am not.
I love my bike. I love riding. In fact, the fact that I get to get on my bike and ride like a banshee is basically the only reason I endure the aquatic version of WWF wrestling that precedes the ride.
The weather forecast this morning called for overcast skies, and (I kid you not) "winds from the SSW shifting to WNW in the afternoon". For those familiar with the Kona bike course, that translates to tailwind in both directions. The weather forecaster should be handed a pink slip! The day turned out to be more like "blazing sun and relentless crosswind", aka classic Kona. Heat, wind, humidity.
I learned two things in 2010. One, you will get baked out there if you do not protect yourself against the sun, and two, the ride always feels easy on the way out.
This year I opted to wear a Compressport triathlon shirt with full arm sleeves over my Sugoi RS tri shorts, and also opted for Sugoi RS half gloves on the bike. I was extremely diligent about applying, and reapplying, sunscreen to my face during the ride. (And, yes, I did carry SPF 50 chapstick!) It was worth it. Whereas in 2010 I was horribly sunburned and in pain by mile 80, I suffered absolutely no burn today at all (well, except for a little sliver of burn on my wrist!).
My usual feeling of "woo-hoo, I am on my bike", however, was noticeably absent. My energy was low from the get-go and riding felt like an effort. After realizing that my get-up-and-go had simply failed to show for the day, I rode conservatively and within myself. This turned out to be wise. I stopped at every aid station for two bottles of water, and ensured I was riding in an easier gear than I thought necessary. When the wind started spanking us at about 60k and it started getting hard, I was passing way more than I was getting passed. And in Hawi, when the headwind from hell hit, my flat legs were able to get me through.
When your body repeatedly tells you "no" and you keep ignoring it, the troubles manifest in other ways. I lost my voice from coughing so hard, and started throwing up my fluids on the bike. Cola in, cola out. I did discover, however, that one way to ensure no one drafts you is to keep throwing up :)
I rode a 5:35 today in seriously tough conditions, on a day that my legs failed to show up. The split itself may not scream success, but it was one of the highlights of the day to me. I felt more confident handling my bike in the crazy wind, and knew to ride my own race. The training paid off.
One of the other highlights of the day was looking up and seeing the infectious smile of none other than Chrissie Wellington, about 30k from the bike finish. "You go girl" has never been so inspiring.
Luckily, my decision to change clothing for the run enabled me to leave my seriously raunchy ride clothes behind. To the poor volunteer that had to pick up that pukey mess....I am sorry. My glacial T2 is reflective of some porta-potty navel gazing while I composed myself and dealt with the GI distress that plagued the remainder of my day. Between my coughing, nausea and potty troubles, I should have been labeled a biological hazard!
The run was just ugly. It was a big, long talk with myself punctuated with an embarrassing amount of walking, coughing and willing myself to go on. When I saw my parents and Gregg cheering from the driveway of our rental house at the 4.5 mile mark of Ali'i Drive....I cannot tell you how much every part of me wanted to call it a day. I was so happy to see them.
As any of us do, I went in to this race gunning for the race of my life, and in the end settled for the best I had on the day. Kona remains an enigma, and my heart is as unsettled as it was when the gun went off. It will take some time for me to fully put my day in perspective.
To everyone who was here today in person and in spirit - I thank you. I appreciate all of the encouragement and your unconditional support for this sometimes silly and (at times) consuming hobby of mine. I think I hear off-season beckoning....
Putting it all in perspective (as though possible while the coca cola still has its hold on me), there were many things that went well. Training leading into the race had gone extremely well under the watchful advice of coach Bjoern, and arriving two weeks early to acclimatize was a good call.
I learned well in 2010 that Kona can be extremely unforgiving, and that understanding was reinforced today. As with any race, I have to be flexible around the things I cannot control, but Kona is particularly unkind when things go wrong.
In the days leading up to the race, I swam daily on the course to get comfortable with the aspect of the race that I find the most uncomfortable - the chaotic swim. I ate well. I rested. And I caught a nasty cough.
 |
| Posing at Dig-me beach before a practice swim. |
I finally gave in to the cough and cold meds on Friday morning when it became apparent that I was not going to get any sleep without shutting down the incessant cough. Needless to say, not the wisest start to a seriously tough race.
The swim was just as I remembered it - terrifying. It was rough, congested and violent. The swells felt enormous, and the battering never eased up. I stayed calm, swam the entire time and did not fight it. At one point I sighted, and there were swimmers ABOVE me in a swell....it was just nuts. There is an enormous advantage to a swimmer here and unfortunately, that I am not.
 |
| *shudder* |
The weather forecast this morning called for overcast skies, and (I kid you not) "winds from the SSW shifting to WNW in the afternoon". For those familiar with the Kona bike course, that translates to tailwind in both directions. The weather forecaster should be handed a pink slip! The day turned out to be more like "blazing sun and relentless crosswind", aka classic Kona. Heat, wind, humidity.
I learned two things in 2010. One, you will get baked out there if you do not protect yourself against the sun, and two, the ride always feels easy on the way out.
This year I opted to wear a Compressport triathlon shirt with full arm sleeves over my Sugoi RS tri shorts, and also opted for Sugoi RS half gloves on the bike. I was extremely diligent about applying, and reapplying, sunscreen to my face during the ride. (And, yes, I did carry SPF 50 chapstick!) It was worth it. Whereas in 2010 I was horribly sunburned and in pain by mile 80, I suffered absolutely no burn today at all (well, except for a little sliver of burn on my wrist!).
My usual feeling of "woo-hoo, I am on my bike", however, was noticeably absent. My energy was low from the get-go and riding felt like an effort. After realizing that my get-up-and-go had simply failed to show for the day, I rode conservatively and within myself. This turned out to be wise. I stopped at every aid station for two bottles of water, and ensured I was riding in an easier gear than I thought necessary. When the wind started spanking us at about 60k and it started getting hard, I was passing way more than I was getting passed. And in Hawi, when the headwind from hell hit, my flat legs were able to get me through.
When your body repeatedly tells you "no" and you keep ignoring it, the troubles manifest in other ways. I lost my voice from coughing so hard, and started throwing up my fluids on the bike. Cola in, cola out. I did discover, however, that one way to ensure no one drafts you is to keep throwing up :)
I rode a 5:35 today in seriously tough conditions, on a day that my legs failed to show up. The split itself may not scream success, but it was one of the highlights of the day to me. I felt more confident handling my bike in the crazy wind, and knew to ride my own race. The training paid off.
One of the other highlights of the day was looking up and seeing the infectious smile of none other than Chrissie Wellington, about 30k from the bike finish. "You go girl" has never been so inspiring.
Luckily, my decision to change clothing for the run enabled me to leave my seriously raunchy ride clothes behind. To the poor volunteer that had to pick up that pukey mess....I am sorry. My glacial T2 is reflective of some porta-potty navel gazing while I composed myself and dealt with the GI distress that plagued the remainder of my day. Between my coughing, nausea and potty troubles, I should have been labeled a biological hazard!
The run was just ugly. It was a big, long talk with myself punctuated with an embarrassing amount of walking, coughing and willing myself to go on. When I saw my parents and Gregg cheering from the driveway of our rental house at the 4.5 mile mark of Ali'i Drive....I cannot tell you how much every part of me wanted to call it a day. I was so happy to see them.
 |
| Kicking down Ali'i...Iron-Gregg in the foreground. So happy to see those familiar faces ! |
To everyone who was here today in person and in spirit - I thank you. I appreciate all of the encouragement and your unconditional support for this sometimes silly and (at times) consuming hobby of mine. I think I hear off-season beckoning....
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Taper. Not crazy.
Something has happened to my taper crazies. They are inexplicably absent.
I arrived in Kona late Friday evening and have melted into the aloha life. It is sublime.
Riding on the Queen K on Saturday brought me more emotion than I expected. Or perhaps I should have expected it - after all, it has been an interesting few months. It was a rush to the senses, a feeling of absolute calm and breathlessness. The smell of the air and the flowers, the wind, the crashing waves, the stark contrast of the black lava, and the nervous energy abound.
I love it.
This is a place that exists somewhere between my dreams and real life. Miles away from home, and yet so real.
Wrapping my head around what will happen here in 11 days is a heavy load. But I approach it with calm....not crazy at all, in fact. For the first time in months, I am giving my body the gift of rest, but it is not rebelling. I accept this time as a gift, as a chance to put my head to work. The day may break my heart, but it will not break my resolve unless I let it.
Will I be forced to reach deep, have a hard conversation with myself many times over and summon everything I have to give? Yes.
Does it scare the shit out of me? Yes.
Insurmountable? No.
I arrived in Kona late Friday evening and have melted into the aloha life. It is sublime.
Riding on the Queen K on Saturday brought me more emotion than I expected. Or perhaps I should have expected it - after all, it has been an interesting few months. It was a rush to the senses, a feeling of absolute calm and breathlessness. The smell of the air and the flowers, the wind, the crashing waves, the stark contrast of the black lava, and the nervous energy abound.
I love it.
This is a place that exists somewhere between my dreams and real life. Miles away from home, and yet so real.
Wrapping my head around what will happen here in 11 days is a heavy load. But I approach it with calm....not crazy at all, in fact. For the first time in months, I am giving my body the gift of rest, but it is not rebelling. I accept this time as a gift, as a chance to put my head to work. The day may break my heart, but it will not break my resolve unless I let it.
Will I be forced to reach deep, have a hard conversation with myself many times over and summon everything I have to give? Yes.
Does it scare the shit out of me? Yes.
Insurmountable? No.
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