Earlier this month I made the decision to withdraw my entry from Ironman Whistler. The July 11 deadline, if I wanted a $150 refund, helped me make up my mind.
It was both a hard and an easy decision to make. Hard as I registered for the race in October last year with the intent of competing. As a former triathlete and five-time Ironman finisher, I could simply not resist an Ironman that landed in my backyard, one offering 100 qualifying slots for the 2013 Ironman World Championships in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii.
This year, only one other race (IM Frankfurt held earlier this month) offered that many slots, according to RunTri.com. Every triathlete competing in an Ironman wants to go to Kona, even retired triathletes like me. I am a far better athlete now than when I did my last Ironman in March 2005.
Yet by late April, the reality was that my injury (mysterious heel pain that had curtailed my running for nearly a year by then) had not disappeared. A 15-minute run was all it took for the pain to return. So I stopped running again.
Cycling, especially riding on the Computrainer in the aero position, was not helping, I realized. It only served to increase the tightness and imbalance that I now suspected was the cause of my problem. I stopped cycling too. The last ride I did was on April 21, the day before I discovered that my body still could not cope with a 15-minute jog.
Unfortunately, the bike ride is a little crucial in Ironman -- it takes up more than half the time any athlete needs to finish (unless you ride so hard that your run will take you longer than your bike did, not uncommon). Not having cycled from March 2005 until October 2012 meant I could not rely on a fitness base there either.
While still hopeful in late April, I was already well aware that my chances of getting ready for an Ironman in August were very slim. I did not run again until June 4, starting with two 5-minute stretches. By July 11 -- the deadline to receive a partial refund -- my longest run had been 40 minutes.
I have consistently spent at least 10 hours a week on yoga, stretching, massage and rolling for the past three months.
When I realized that I was not even sure if I would be ready to run (not race, just run) the local annual 10km on August 4, I also realized that doing an Ironman three weeks later was just not a good idea. Indeed it was unrealistic. That made the decision easy.
There will always be another Ironman, should I want to do one. And after the past year, a healthy body is worth more to me than any race, even one with a hundred Kona slots.
Showing posts with label Ironman Whistler 2013. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Ironman Whistler 2013. Show all posts
July 24, 2013
February 25, 2013
Qualifying for the Worlds -- Swimming
Yesterday I did the first swim meet of my life. It was not a big deal, and yet it was, as with everything you do for the first time.
There is a clear advantage to being a novice at something -- if you are willing to accept and embrace it.
"Eighty percent of success is showing up," as Woody Allen said.
That indeed was the measure for me. The biggest obstacle to yesterday's indoor swimming competition was finding the courage to try it, challenging the idea I have of myself as someone who cannot swim fast, that I am not -- never -- going to get any better, and that I wouldn't enjoy competing in the sport.
As a runner, I always encourage novices to try a race -- it's not about speed, it's about having the guts to prepare and start, it's about trying something new to challenge yourself. The results are invariably amazing (see The Casual Ultramarathoner and Never too Late to Discover You're a Runner).
We all possess potential that lies far beyond our expectations. That's where a fresh challenge can help us get unstuck as it reminds us that we are capable of more than we think as long as we are willing to try and take that first step.
Getting to the swim meet was a matter of overcoming my reluctance -- mental resistance -- to showing up, fuelled by negative scenarios. Mental resistance can take many forms; I am most familiar with fear, procrastination, and being hard on myself.
"Resistance is not a peripheral opponent. Resistance arises from within. It is self-generated and self-perpetuated. Resistance is the enemy within," writes Steven Pressfield in The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles.
All of us battle resistance every single day. Awareness helps to overcome it.
In the superb Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail, Cheryl Strayed writes about the solo 1,100-mile hike from California to Washington state she undertook at the age of 26 after losing her mother to cancer sparked a deep personal crisis. Strayed had no previous overnight hiking experience.
On her first day on the trail, starting from the Mojave Desert, Strayed descibes her attitude toward the potential natural dangers including rattlesnakes, mountain lions and "wilderness-savvy serial killers".
"... I wasn't thinking of them. It was a deal I'd made with myself months before and the only thing that allowed me to hike alone. I knew that if I allowed fear to overtake me, my journey was doomed. Fear, to a great extent, is born of a story we tell ourselves, and so I chose to tell myself a different story from the one women are told. I decided I was safe. I was strong. I was brave. Nothing could vanquish me.
"Insisting on this story was a form of mind control, but for the most part, it worked. Every time I heard a sound of unknown origin or felt something horrible cohering in my imagination, I pushed it away. I simply did not let myself become afraid. Fear begets fear. Power begets power. I willed myself to beget power. And it wasn't long before I actually wasn't afraid. I was working too hard to be afraid."
Challenging our preconceptions about ourself -- our ability, our talent, our potential -- is necessary for growth. Doing so often inspires anxiety as our mind races through all the things that could go wrong, the ways we could fail, fall short of expectations -- our own or those of others.
I could not help but feel a wave of regret wash over me as we -- Coach Roseline and teammates Simon, Andrew, Tim and I -- arrived at the Vancouver Aquatic Centre where 119 people had registered to compete in this cross-shaped 50-metre pool; though 25-metre lanes were used for this meet.
Why did I make myself do this? A swimming competition? I am not a swimmer, certainly not a fast swimmer.
After we found a spot on the pool deck to park ourselves and our gear for the day, we began a warmup at 10am among the myriad of other competitors. Aside from getting your body ready to race, it is also helpful to navigate a pool you don't know, experienced teammate Simon said.
Indeed, the water was a touch cooler than I am used to, while the sides of the pool were very different to those at Brennan Park. I couldn't help but feel nervous between the organized chaos of swimmers warming up, even as I had ordered myself to stay calm. It was just a first swim meet after all, not a big race I had trained months for.
Like many of the swimmers, I took a couple of turns on the only start block (also different to the Squamish pool) where we were allowed to practice -- both times my goggles flew down my face as soon as I hit the water.
Why did I make myself do this?
The first heat in the first event, the 400 free, was scheduled to begin at 10:30am right after the warmup and I was in it -- the swimmers with the slowest time estimates go first.
Coach Roseline double-capped me to secure the goggles, as she had done in training earlier in the week; add one cap, then add goggles, add another cap over top low enough so it sits over the top rim of the goggles. She assured me they wouldn't budge.
I got ready to line up behind lane 6. An issue with the timing system delayed the start for about 15 minutes during which my goggles were so firmly pressed onto my eyes that I could barely stand it, but I didn't want to risk moving them from their failsafe position.
Then it was time for my debut as an indoor competitive swimmer. As you wait behind your lane, the timers check your name. Then there are two signals, one indicating you can step onto the block, and the next sigalling the "Take your mark" command will soon follow, upon which you stay completely until the Beep start signal, then you go.
As soon as I hit the water surface with my goggles still firmly in place, I relaxed instantly. I was in the water; all I had to do was swim 400 metres, sixteen 25s, though I count them as eight 50s. I felt good, smooth. I focused on breathing out under water, an easy thing to forget, and keeping track of the number of laps so I could pace the effort.
I wanted to beat the 7:32 I had swum in training 5-1/2 weeks ago, and I was very happy to swim 6:56.
Getting that first heat out of the way made all the difference; my dive was fine, the goggles stayed in place, and it was simply a matter of swimming back and forth. And I had just improved my 400 time by 36 seconds.
Coach Roseline was taking our 50m splits at each event, so we could see how we paced ourselves, how it compared with previous times, and our goals. Her enthusiasm at the meet, like in training, was infectious and encouraging. She loves the sport and she loves helping others love to swim, and swim faster.
A five-page program listed each heat with the names and times of competitors in every event so you knew when and in which lane to swim. It was fun and inspiring to watch the others, especially of course the other three Titans.
A swim meet is very different to the running races and triathlons I am used to -- there you have one start, and one finish. Here you race, hang out, eat, drink, time and watch others, race again, and repeat. There is no fixed start time for each event, and each heat -- just a fixed sequence, so must pay attention.
Next up was the 100 free. My 1:45 estimate had seeded me in the second heat, in lane 7. Now I was more relaxed though it is important to stay focused. In the heat before me, a guy lost his balance in between "Take your mark" and the start signal and was disqualified. He shrugged his shoulders, not a big deal but a shame to miss out on an event.
Two 50s, or four 25s, means going as fast as you can, though I have learned that at this stage my stroke is better if I don't try so hard. Again, my dive went smooth, as did my swim and I was thrilled with 1:27.
In the 200 later that afternoon, I swam 3:12 compared with my estimate for 3:45.
And in the 800, I swam 14:24, instead of my 17:00 estimate.
It was a great experience; by showing up I gained a much better handle on my swim times and fitness and found fresh concrete goals to aim for. Coach Roseline has been trying to get the Titans squad excited about the FINA World Masters Championships, held in Montreal next year. Aside from a 1K open-water event that anyone can enter, swimmers need to meet age group standards. Superb benchmarks.
So, not only did I survive my first swim meet, I enjoyed it and am already planning to take part in the next one, the MSABC Provincials in April, where I hope to secure at least one worlds standard. I need a 36 50m, 1:20 100m, 3:00 200m. 6:15 400m, 13:20 800m or a 45:50 50m breaststroke.
The one that speaks most to my imagination is the Sub-3 200m of course :-), as it has been a magical target that has been on my mind for a few years now, just not in minutes and in a different sport.
I have to be grateful for the injury that has sidelined me as a runner for eight months, and counting, as it has forced me to challenge a few key beliefs I had about myself. I love to run, I am a runner. But I don't want to be trapped by my inability to run and the conviction that no other form of exercise can replace it.
My key goal is still to return to running, so that I can resume my quest for the Sub-3 marathon. But in the meantime I am discovering and aiming for new targets to challenge myself, physically and mentally. Goals that force me to overcome mental resistance, in whatever form it may arise.
The swim meet helped me challenge the notion that I am not a swimmer.
I was a beginner runner once -- a woman who started jogging such short distances at such a slow speed that it would take a few years before I thought of myself as a runner. And it would take a few more years before I discovered an ability to run "fast".
Fast is relative, and that is a good thing. I have no plans to compete in Montreal in 2014. But you never know. It is all about finding inspiring goals to motivate your training, and to keep challenging the preconceived ideas you have about yourself.
And if you encounter resistance, embrace it, even follow it, Pressfield recommends: "The more important a call or action is to our soul's evolution, the more Resistance we will feel toward pursuing it."
There is a clear advantage to being a novice at something -- if you are willing to accept and embrace it.
"Eighty percent of success is showing up," as Woody Allen said.
That indeed was the measure for me. The biggest obstacle to yesterday's indoor swimming competition was finding the courage to try it, challenging the idea I have of myself as someone who cannot swim fast, that I am not -- never -- going to get any better, and that I wouldn't enjoy competing in the sport.
As a runner, I always encourage novices to try a race -- it's not about speed, it's about having the guts to prepare and start, it's about trying something new to challenge yourself. The results are invariably amazing (see The Casual Ultramarathoner and Never too Late to Discover You're a Runner).
We all possess potential that lies far beyond our expectations. That's where a fresh challenge can help us get unstuck as it reminds us that we are capable of more than we think as long as we are willing to try and take that first step.
Getting to the swim meet was a matter of overcoming my reluctance -- mental resistance -- to showing up, fuelled by negative scenarios. Mental resistance can take many forms; I am most familiar with fear, procrastination, and being hard on myself.
"Resistance is not a peripheral opponent. Resistance arises from within. It is self-generated and self-perpetuated. Resistance is the enemy within," writes Steven Pressfield in The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles.
All of us battle resistance every single day. Awareness helps to overcome it.
In the superb Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail, Cheryl Strayed writes about the solo 1,100-mile hike from California to Washington state she undertook at the age of 26 after losing her mother to cancer sparked a deep personal crisis. Strayed had no previous overnight hiking experience.
On her first day on the trail, starting from the Mojave Desert, Strayed descibes her attitude toward the potential natural dangers including rattlesnakes, mountain lions and "wilderness-savvy serial killers".
"... I wasn't thinking of them. It was a deal I'd made with myself months before and the only thing that allowed me to hike alone. I knew that if I allowed fear to overtake me, my journey was doomed. Fear, to a great extent, is born of a story we tell ourselves, and so I chose to tell myself a different story from the one women are told. I decided I was safe. I was strong. I was brave. Nothing could vanquish me.
"Insisting on this story was a form of mind control, but for the most part, it worked. Every time I heard a sound of unknown origin or felt something horrible cohering in my imagination, I pushed it away. I simply did not let myself become afraid. Fear begets fear. Power begets power. I willed myself to beget power. And it wasn't long before I actually wasn't afraid. I was working too hard to be afraid."
Challenging our preconceptions about ourself -- our ability, our talent, our potential -- is necessary for growth. Doing so often inspires anxiety as our mind races through all the things that could go wrong, the ways we could fail, fall short of expectations -- our own or those of others.
I could not help but feel a wave of regret wash over me as we -- Coach Roseline and teammates Simon, Andrew, Tim and I -- arrived at the Vancouver Aquatic Centre where 119 people had registered to compete in this cross-shaped 50-metre pool; though 25-metre lanes were used for this meet.
Why did I make myself do this? A swimming competition? I am not a swimmer, certainly not a fast swimmer.
After we found a spot on the pool deck to park ourselves and our gear for the day, we began a warmup at 10am among the myriad of other competitors. Aside from getting your body ready to race, it is also helpful to navigate a pool you don't know, experienced teammate Simon said.
Indeed, the water was a touch cooler than I am used to, while the sides of the pool were very different to those at Brennan Park. I couldn't help but feel nervous between the organized chaos of swimmers warming up, even as I had ordered myself to stay calm. It was just a first swim meet after all, not a big race I had trained months for.
Like many of the swimmers, I took a couple of turns on the only start block (also different to the Squamish pool) where we were allowed to practice -- both times my goggles flew down my face as soon as I hit the water.
Why did I make myself do this?
The first heat in the first event, the 400 free, was scheduled to begin at 10:30am right after the warmup and I was in it -- the swimmers with the slowest time estimates go first.
Coach Roseline double-capped me to secure the goggles, as she had done in training earlier in the week; add one cap, then add goggles, add another cap over top low enough so it sits over the top rim of the goggles. She assured me they wouldn't budge.
I got ready to line up behind lane 6. An issue with the timing system delayed the start for about 15 minutes during which my goggles were so firmly pressed onto my eyes that I could barely stand it, but I didn't want to risk moving them from their failsafe position.
Then it was time for my debut as an indoor competitive swimmer. As you wait behind your lane, the timers check your name. Then there are two signals, one indicating you can step onto the block, and the next sigalling the "Take your mark" command will soon follow, upon which you stay completely until the Beep start signal, then you go.
As soon as I hit the water surface with my goggles still firmly in place, I relaxed instantly. I was in the water; all I had to do was swim 400 metres, sixteen 25s, though I count them as eight 50s. I felt good, smooth. I focused on breathing out under water, an easy thing to forget, and keeping track of the number of laps so I could pace the effort.
I wanted to beat the 7:32 I had swum in training 5-1/2 weeks ago, and I was very happy to swim 6:56.
Getting that first heat out of the way made all the difference; my dive was fine, the goggles stayed in place, and it was simply a matter of swimming back and forth. And I had just improved my 400 time by 36 seconds.
Coach Roseline was taking our 50m splits at each event, so we could see how we paced ourselves, how it compared with previous times, and our goals. Her enthusiasm at the meet, like in training, was infectious and encouraging. She loves the sport and she loves helping others love to swim, and swim faster.
A five-page program listed each heat with the names and times of competitors in every event so you knew when and in which lane to swim. It was fun and inspiring to watch the others, especially of course the other three Titans.
A swim meet is very different to the running races and triathlons I am used to -- there you have one start, and one finish. Here you race, hang out, eat, drink, time and watch others, race again, and repeat. There is no fixed start time for each event, and each heat -- just a fixed sequence, so must pay attention.
Next up was the 100 free. My 1:45 estimate had seeded me in the second heat, in lane 7. Now I was more relaxed though it is important to stay focused. In the heat before me, a guy lost his balance in between "Take your mark" and the start signal and was disqualified. He shrugged his shoulders, not a big deal but a shame to miss out on an event.
Two 50s, or four 25s, means going as fast as you can, though I have learned that at this stage my stroke is better if I don't try so hard. Again, my dive went smooth, as did my swim and I was thrilled with 1:27.
In the 200 later that afternoon, I swam 3:12 compared with my estimate for 3:45.
And in the 800, I swam 14:24, instead of my 17:00 estimate.
It was a great experience; by showing up I gained a much better handle on my swim times and fitness and found fresh concrete goals to aim for. Coach Roseline has been trying to get the Titans squad excited about the FINA World Masters Championships, held in Montreal next year. Aside from a 1K open-water event that anyone can enter, swimmers need to meet age group standards. Superb benchmarks.
So, not only did I survive my first swim meet, I enjoyed it and am already planning to take part in the next one, the MSABC Provincials in April, where I hope to secure at least one worlds standard. I need a 36 50m, 1:20 100m, 3:00 200m. 6:15 400m, 13:20 800m or a 45:50 50m breaststroke.
The one that speaks most to my imagination is the Sub-3 200m of course :-), as it has been a magical target that has been on my mind for a few years now, just not in minutes and in a different sport.
I have to be grateful for the injury that has sidelined me as a runner for eight months, and counting, as it has forced me to challenge a few key beliefs I had about myself. I love to run, I am a runner. But I don't want to be trapped by my inability to run and the conviction that no other form of exercise can replace it.
My key goal is still to return to running, so that I can resume my quest for the Sub-3 marathon. But in the meantime I am discovering and aiming for new targets to challenge myself, physically and mentally. Goals that force me to overcome mental resistance, in whatever form it may arise.
The swim meet helped me challenge the notion that I am not a swimmer.
I was a beginner runner once -- a woman who started jogging such short distances at such a slow speed that it would take a few years before I thought of myself as a runner. And it would take a few more years before I discovered an ability to run "fast".
Fast is relative, and that is a good thing. I have no plans to compete in Montreal in 2014. But you never know. It is all about finding inspiring goals to motivate your training, and to keep challenging the preconceived ideas you have about yourself.
And if you encounter resistance, embrace it, even follow it, Pressfield recommends: "The more important a call or action is to our soul's evolution, the more Resistance we will feel toward pursuing it."
February 23, 2013
Tapered for tomorrow's swim meet
It's been a week that was focused on tomorrow's English Bay Swim Club "Love to Swim" meet at the Vancouver Aquatic Centre.
Coach Roseline Mondor-Grimm had a taper week in store for the four of us, all Squamish Titans, competing there tomorrow; this meant less volume and higher intensity over our three one-hour sessions in the past five days.
I also had to learn how to dive off the start blocks, something I had hoped to avoid by simply diving off the edge of the pool. The Coach said, firmly, "I'd rather you don't."
On Monday, those of us headed for the swim meet swam about 1.6K (compared with 2.5K in the previous session), with the longest set a 400 free, then it was time to practice our starts. Assistant Coach Yi-khy Saw, a 1500m specialist who swam for Malaysia at the 2004 Olympic Games in Athens, was on deck to help.
The others already knew how to dive off the blocks, and soon went to the other side of the lane to practice their flip turns with Yi-khy. Doing flip turns at the meet is beneficial, but optional -- a proper start is not, so Coach Roseline taught me how to do it.
There are two key things to focus on. One, Roseline said, you must stay still in the time between the "Take your mark" call and the "Beep" start signal -- movement means disqualification. This may seem obvious if you have watched swimming competitions on TV, as I have, but I am glad she reminded me because there are so many other things to think about on those blocks.
Such as not falling flat on your face and/or losing your goggles. Indeed, you must remember to tuck your chin to your chest before your head hits the water, Roseline said, as my goggles slid down my face during the first few attempts. I'd hate to swim 16 or 32 25m lengths without goggles on Sunday.
She recommended I put my feet side by side with my toes curled around the edge of the block. I double forward my body with my fingers gripping the block too, and my knees slightly bent. Once cleared by the start signal, I need to use my leg strength to push forward, which will lift my arms forward too, while keeping my chin firmly on my chest. Roseline recommended I do not look ahead for now.
I practiced on Monday and again on Wednesday, both for about 5 to 10 minutes. Hopefully that will allow for four smooth starts tomorrow -- staying motionless when required and keeping the goggles in place will be my key goals.
Wednesday was a sharpening session; again we swam 1.6K in total including 3 sets of four 50s, doing each set slow, medium, fast and superfast respectively. I did not feel superfast.
Friday morning's workout I almost missed as I woke up late and tired. I am glad I went, though, as the core set provided a great boost of confidence. After a 400 warm-up, we did 3 100s of drills, swimming on our side, and streamline kicking. Then we swam four 50s aimed at a target time, followed by 30 seconds rest between each (unless we missed the target time then the recovery got shorter).
The Coach had me aim for 50 seconds, saying 55 would be OK too. Swimming behind Andrew and Tim in the lane, I forgot to watch the clock in the first 50 metres. I thought I made the 50-second target in the other three, possibly even 45. I felt good, strong and comfortable in the water.
Next we swam another 400 free, then did a second set of four 50s. My goal was 50 seconds this time -- no leeway to 55. I paid better attention to the clock, and left when the four coloured hands were on 15, 30, 45, and 60 respectively, though I focused on the blue one on 30.
Both the coach and I were surprised to see me hit the wall in 43 seconds. And repeating that time in the other three 50s too. Roseline's coaching and the taper are working, yay!
Earlier in the week I had questioned my decision to do the meet, but now I am glad because it has helped me become more aware of my splits and current level of fitness. I will not be among the fast swimmers tomorrow, indeed I will be among the slowest, but I will certainly be a more educated, and therefore more motivated, one because of the preparation for the meet.
It is not just about times but knowing them helps gauge your progress, and encourages you to sustain the training. It has only been seven weeks since I joined Roseline's squad, and I cannot wait to see the results after another four months.
Each swimmer is allowed to compete in four events and had to provide time estimates for seeding. I opted for the 100, 200, 400 and 800 free, predicting I'll need 1:45, 3:45, 7:30 and 17:00.
The 100 free is the most popular at tomorrow's meet, with 89 people registered. My time estimate of 1:45 ranked me at 80, shared with two others including fellow Squamish Titan Andrew Clegg. Tim's 1:30:01 put him at 69, while the fastest Titan in this meet, Simon Crevier, is ranked a shared 13th with an estimate of 1:02.
The longer events are less popular: I am one of only 19 people listed to do the 800 free, and my 17:00 predicted time seeds me last. Both Tim and Andrew are among the 17 registered for the 1500.
Tomorrow will be the first time in eight years that I will swim 800m continuously, a thought that is less intimidating when considering that distance makes up less than a quarter of the 3.8K I will have to swim in August at Ironman Canada.
Coach Roseline Mondor-Grimm had a taper week in store for the four of us, all Squamish Titans, competing there tomorrow; this meant less volume and higher intensity over our three one-hour sessions in the past five days.
I also had to learn how to dive off the start blocks, something I had hoped to avoid by simply diving off the edge of the pool. The Coach said, firmly, "I'd rather you don't."
On Monday, those of us headed for the swim meet swam about 1.6K (compared with 2.5K in the previous session), with the longest set a 400 free, then it was time to practice our starts. Assistant Coach Yi-khy Saw, a 1500m specialist who swam for Malaysia at the 2004 Olympic Games in Athens, was on deck to help.
The others already knew how to dive off the blocks, and soon went to the other side of the lane to practice their flip turns with Yi-khy. Doing flip turns at the meet is beneficial, but optional -- a proper start is not, so Coach Roseline taught me how to do it.
There are two key things to focus on. One, Roseline said, you must stay still in the time between the "Take your mark" call and the "Beep" start signal -- movement means disqualification. This may seem obvious if you have watched swimming competitions on TV, as I have, but I am glad she reminded me because there are so many other things to think about on those blocks.
Such as not falling flat on your face and/or losing your goggles. Indeed, you must remember to tuck your chin to your chest before your head hits the water, Roseline said, as my goggles slid down my face during the first few attempts. I'd hate to swim 16 or 32 25m lengths without goggles on Sunday.
She recommended I put my feet side by side with my toes curled around the edge of the block. I double forward my body with my fingers gripping the block too, and my knees slightly bent. Once cleared by the start signal, I need to use my leg strength to push forward, which will lift my arms forward too, while keeping my chin firmly on my chest. Roseline recommended I do not look ahead for now.
I practiced on Monday and again on Wednesday, both for about 5 to 10 minutes. Hopefully that will allow for four smooth starts tomorrow -- staying motionless when required and keeping the goggles in place will be my key goals.
Wednesday was a sharpening session; again we swam 1.6K in total including 3 sets of four 50s, doing each set slow, medium, fast and superfast respectively. I did not feel superfast.
Friday morning's workout I almost missed as I woke up late and tired. I am glad I went, though, as the core set provided a great boost of confidence. After a 400 warm-up, we did 3 100s of drills, swimming on our side, and streamline kicking. Then we swam four 50s aimed at a target time, followed by 30 seconds rest between each (unless we missed the target time then the recovery got shorter).
The Coach had me aim for 50 seconds, saying 55 would be OK too. Swimming behind Andrew and Tim in the lane, I forgot to watch the clock in the first 50 metres. I thought I made the 50-second target in the other three, possibly even 45. I felt good, strong and comfortable in the water.
Next we swam another 400 free, then did a second set of four 50s. My goal was 50 seconds this time -- no leeway to 55. I paid better attention to the clock, and left when the four coloured hands were on 15, 30, 45, and 60 respectively, though I focused on the blue one on 30.
Both the coach and I were surprised to see me hit the wall in 43 seconds. And repeating that time in the other three 50s too. Roseline's coaching and the taper are working, yay!
Earlier in the week I had questioned my decision to do the meet, but now I am glad because it has helped me become more aware of my splits and current level of fitness. I will not be among the fast swimmers tomorrow, indeed I will be among the slowest, but I will certainly be a more educated, and therefore more motivated, one because of the preparation for the meet.
It is not just about times but knowing them helps gauge your progress, and encourages you to sustain the training. It has only been seven weeks since I joined Roseline's squad, and I cannot wait to see the results after another four months.
Each swimmer is allowed to compete in four events and had to provide time estimates for seeding. I opted for the 100, 200, 400 and 800 free, predicting I'll need 1:45, 3:45, 7:30 and 17:00.
The 100 free is the most popular at tomorrow's meet, with 89 people registered. My time estimate of 1:45 ranked me at 80, shared with two others including fellow Squamish Titan Andrew Clegg. Tim's 1:30:01 put him at 69, while the fastest Titan in this meet, Simon Crevier, is ranked a shared 13th with an estimate of 1:02.
The longer events are less popular: I am one of only 19 people listed to do the 800 free, and my 17:00 predicted time seeds me last. Both Tim and Andrew are among the 17 registered for the 1500.
Tomorrow will be the first time in eight years that I will swim 800m continuously, a thought that is less intimidating when considering that distance makes up less than a quarter of the 3.8K I will have to swim in August at Ironman Canada.
January 17, 2013
Swimming: a 400m baseline time
Last night was my fifth session with the Squamish Titans' masters swim squad led by coach Roseline Mondor Grimm. We began with an easy 300-metre warmup, using whatever stroke we wanted. I opted for a mix of freestyle, breast stroke and backstroke.
Next up were four sets of the following: 50m regular swim, then 50 sprinting (freestyle) as hard as possible, following by 50 of gliding, i.e. swimming with relaxed long strokes. We had 20 seconds of rest between each 50.
Then there was the core set; the two fastest lanes had three sets of 400m -- the first was a timed 400 freestyle, followed by a minute rest, then a 400 freestyle with pullbuoy, another minute rest, and a 400 with fins.
The 'slowest' two lanes, which include me, only had to do the 400 pullbuoy and 400 fins.
I love swimming with a pullbuoy, and fins make it completely effortless. In our 25m pool, we had to count eight 50s of course, which can get a little more confusing than you'd think. It was a nice set.
As I was getting ready for the final 200 cooldown, Coach Roseline suggested I try a timed 400 freestyle as well. Erm, OK.
Thirty seconds later I was off on my first unassisted 400-metre swim in, well, forever. I focused on two things: keeping track of the laps and breathing as calmly as possible. I pushed myself and soon enough very much enjoyed the challenge. Having struggled with a running injury since late June, I have missed the pleasure and satisfaction that hard endurance efforts against the clock bring.
I had no idea of what lap times I was swimming; I can tell you my kilometre and mile pace for every race distance as a runner, but any references in the water are only held in my mind by half Ironman and full Ironman swim split times from races done in 2005 and earlier.
The final two 50s I tried to push a little harder; I could hear Coach Roseline yell encouragement each time I pushed off the side of the pool where she was timing me. The result was 7:31. Partly because I was tired from the effort, and partly because I don't recall doing any timed 400s before, I said I had no idea what that meant, as in, I had no reference point.
She said it was good because it meant I had kept it under 8 minutes, and the simple math of sub-60-second 50s occurred to me.
In a way it was harder to do the timed 400 after the other two (and the previous 750m) because I was a little tired and because I had just experienced the extra buoyancy and power of using the pullbuoy in one set and fins in the next, neither of which I could use in the timed set of course.
But it was also mentally easier because I had just felt how long it took to count eight 50s twice before, and by starting a little fatigued I had less energy to begin too fast.
I'm glad Coach Roseline encouraged me to do it. It's great to have a benchmark 400 time to work with, and aim at improving it over the next few months.
I also came across this neat comparison between 400m swim- and 1-mile run times on Let'sRun.com.
My best timed one-mile run is 5:42 (set in mid-2012), compared with 7:31 for my 400m swim, of course set yesterday. I look forward to narrowing the difference -- hopefully not just by having slowed down in my running in the layoff because of injury :-).
Tim has swum a sub-6-minute 400m (set in mid-2012 in, of all things, an 800m time trial where he covered the first 400 in 5:54 and the second in 5:59), while his fastest timed one-mile run is a 6:06, also done in mid-2012.
How do your 400m swim and 1-mile run times stack up? Worth testing, just for fun, if you haven't already.
And, fittingly given the timed effort, Coach Roseline last night handed all new squad members including me the Squamish Titans swim cap.
You can find more info on the Squamish Titans here; the running program begins next Tuesday, details coming soon.
Next up were four sets of the following: 50m regular swim, then 50 sprinting (freestyle) as hard as possible, following by 50 of gliding, i.e. swimming with relaxed long strokes. We had 20 seconds of rest between each 50.
Then there was the core set; the two fastest lanes had three sets of 400m -- the first was a timed 400 freestyle, followed by a minute rest, then a 400 freestyle with pullbuoy, another minute rest, and a 400 with fins.
The 'slowest' two lanes, which include me, only had to do the 400 pullbuoy and 400 fins.
I love swimming with a pullbuoy, and fins make it completely effortless. In our 25m pool, we had to count eight 50s of course, which can get a little more confusing than you'd think. It was a nice set.
As I was getting ready for the final 200 cooldown, Coach Roseline suggested I try a timed 400 freestyle as well. Erm, OK.
Thirty seconds later I was off on my first unassisted 400-metre swim in, well, forever. I focused on two things: keeping track of the laps and breathing as calmly as possible. I pushed myself and soon enough very much enjoyed the challenge. Having struggled with a running injury since late June, I have missed the pleasure and satisfaction that hard endurance efforts against the clock bring.
I had no idea of what lap times I was swimming; I can tell you my kilometre and mile pace for every race distance as a runner, but any references in the water are only held in my mind by half Ironman and full Ironman swim split times from races done in 2005 and earlier.
The final two 50s I tried to push a little harder; I could hear Coach Roseline yell encouragement each time I pushed off the side of the pool where she was timing me. The result was 7:31. Partly because I was tired from the effort, and partly because I don't recall doing any timed 400s before, I said I had no idea what that meant, as in, I had no reference point.
She said it was good because it meant I had kept it under 8 minutes, and the simple math of sub-60-second 50s occurred to me.
In a way it was harder to do the timed 400 after the other two (and the previous 750m) because I was a little tired and because I had just experienced the extra buoyancy and power of using the pullbuoy in one set and fins in the next, neither of which I could use in the timed set of course.
But it was also mentally easier because I had just felt how long it took to count eight 50s twice before, and by starting a little fatigued I had less energy to begin too fast.
I'm glad Coach Roseline encouraged me to do it. It's great to have a benchmark 400 time to work with, and aim at improving it over the next few months.
I also came across this neat comparison between 400m swim- and 1-mile run times on Let'sRun.com.
My best timed one-mile run is 5:42 (set in mid-2012), compared with 7:31 for my 400m swim, of course set yesterday. I look forward to narrowing the difference -- hopefully not just by having slowed down in my running in the layoff because of injury :-).
Tim has swum a sub-6-minute 400m (set in mid-2012 in, of all things, an 800m time trial where he covered the first 400 in 5:54 and the second in 5:59), while his fastest timed one-mile run is a 6:06, also done in mid-2012.
How do your 400m swim and 1-mile run times stack up? Worth testing, just for fun, if you haven't already.
 |
| A welcome gift for new squad members |
You can find more info on the Squamish Titans here; the running program begins next Tuesday, details coming soon.
January 15, 2013
Can this triathlete finally learn to swim?
I did my first triathlon on June 27, 1999, at the age of 29. The almost-Olympic-distance race was held at Guelph Lake, Ontario. There were 13 of us in the 25-29 age group. The swim was 1.5K and I made it out of the water in 36:13, swimming breast stroke as I could not do freestyle, 11th out of the 13.
(The 40K ride took me 1:25:26, good for 10th out of the 13, and I needed 53:18 to cover the 9.5K run, 9th out of 13. My total race time was 3:01.)
My third triathlon was the half Ironman in Forster-Tuncurry, the home of the Australian Ironman for two decades until 2005, on December 3, 2000. In Forster, I took 46:38 to cover the 1.9K swim, among the last out of the water in a field of 732 athletes. Tim took 35:22. (I finished the whole race in 6:04:16, while Tim took 6:01:12.)
Next up the Canberra half Ironman on December 17, 2000; I spent 45:59 in the water and was the slowest out of the 22 in my age group by almost three minutes. The only other woman in my age group who needed more than 40 minutes to complete the swim took 43:01; the fastest woman in my category swam a super-swift 24:37.
To say that the swim was a struggle for me is an understatement.
In early 2001 I got my first coach -- Sydney-based John Hill, triathlon coach and elite age-group triathlete who by now has more than 50 Ironmans under his belt -- 95 percent of those were Sub-10, according to his website.
By then I had completed four triathlons, two Olympic distances in Canada and two half Ironmans in Australia, where I had moved for work on my 30th birthday in June 2000. Those races cemented two things for me; I liked triathlon and I could not swim, especially compared with Australian triathletes seemingly born to move through water like fish.
Hill's group of triathletes would meet for open water swims, either at Bondi Beach, or one of the other Eastern Suburbs' beaches, or Manly Dam, and I was consistently among the slowest for the four years I trained with them. Hill's group included some outstanding athletes and several went on to become professional triathletes and age-group champions. Others were 'regular' age groupers.
(His squad also produced a slew of triathlon coaches. And triathlete marriages, and babies.)
All training in the water was helpful, though no miracles followed. It seemed to be a lot of hard work with only minor improvements at best.
In the 2001 Canberra half Ironman, I swam 44:17, 26th out of the 29 in my AG and 724th out of a field of 756 athletes. By comparison, I rode 3:03, 13th in my AG and 642nd overall, and ran 1:49:55, 9th in my AG and 502nd overall, for a 5:37 finish time.
Still, it was better than the 50:05 I had needed in the Cairns half Ironman in June 2001, though this was an ocean swim days following a shark sighting.
At the 2002 half Ironman in Canberra, I swam 44:33, 39th out of the 40 in my division, and 772nd out of 812 athletes overall. My 3:36 bike (28th in my AG and suffering a flat on my rear wheel) and 1:46:27 run (5th in my AG) helped me finish in 6:07:46, 18th in my category.
Hill, however, stressed the importance of continuing to practice the swim, often considered of relative unimportance by triathletes since it takes up little time of any triathlon; a race is rarely won in the water, and it's human nature to be drawn to spend more time on things we are good, or at least better, at.
But Hill argued that the sooner you get out of the water, the better the athletes you'll be riding with. While drafting is not allowed, it's helpful to ride with stronger cyclists at a draft-legal distance (varying in distance but always at least 7 metres). It was key to keep working on swim technique in an effort to improve speed, he said.
So I kept at it. Tim and I did a Total Immersion Swimming course with Australia's Shane Gould who won three gold medals, a silver and a bronze at the 1972 Olympics.
I also remember swimming in a group coached by Spot Anderson, a talented and quirky fixture on the Australian triathlon scene since the 1980s.
The last time I swam with a squad was in early 2004, when I was swimming in the 50-metre Cook + Phillip pool in Sydney, Australia, initially coached by Neil Rogers before he moved to the Bondi Icebergs pool (another location for my swim workouts and one of the most stunning pools in the world). Neil swam for Australia at the 1972 and 1976 Olympic games.
As I worked on my swimming, it remained my weakest discipline without a doubt. Even in my fastest half Ironman -- 5:22:11 in Forster in late 2002 -- I needed 40:24 for the swim, after clocking 38:23 on the same course the previous year, my PB and only time I dipped under 40 minutes for that distance.
In my first Ironman (Forster-Tuncurry, Australia) in April 2002, I swam 1:19:27 in the salt-water lake. The following year, on the same course, though different conditions, I swam 1:17:16, and in April 2004 I got out of the water in 1:20:20 -- though this was a non-wetsuit swim because of the heat.
Next up, three months after the previous IM, I did Ironman Germany -- a distastrous swim, starting in the middle of the pack, and soon enough hyperventilating in the crowd of about 3,000 athletes, finishing in 1:18:55. Still not very fish like.
By then, Tim and I were travelling for a year. We were still coached by Hill, though obviously unable to train with the squad. His programs always listed when to swim, though not how. In September 2004, Tim and I began following the detailed swim workouts from Paul Huddle & Roch Frey's book Start to Finish: 24 Weeks to an Endurance Triathlon. We also followed the book's strength training program for six weeks.
These workouts included plenty of drills. And in March 2005, at Ironman New Zealand, all my hard work finally seemed to pay off: I swam 1:13:35 to cover the 3.8K in Lake Taupo. I was thrilled, even though still only 32nd out of the water in my age group. By comparison, a 3:57:29 run split there ranked me 7th in my division.
Of course that was my last triathlon. While I thought it a shame to let go of those hard-won gains, I also did not feel motivated at all to swim in the next 7-1/2 years, as I focused on my running.
I got back into the pool after signing up for Ironman Whistler 2013 to help pull myself from the depressed stupor a stubborn running injury had put me in. I anticipated another Herculean struggle. It is what I associated swimming with and I prepared myself for a very hard road back to a level of swimming fitness and ability that would allow me to finish an Ironman swim of 3.8K, regardless of time.
Easing back into the first nine sessions on my own, guided by workouts Tim wrote for me, I moved through the water better than I thought I would in the first half of November in those first few laps.
Then the local pool closed for annual maintenance and upgrades, and I didn't return until January 7 when I joined the Squamish Titans masters swim squad coached by Roseline Mondor Grimm, an NCCP swimming coach and ex-competitive swimmer who is now a Master Long-Distance swimmer.
I was worried, for sure. But, surprisingly, the first four one-hour sessions have been OK; I actually feel good in the water -- there's more gliding than fighting involved -- and the coach even tells me that I'll be speeding up as my swimming fitness improves. While that doesn't mean I'll be heading for the Olympics any time soon, it does provide a sparkle of hope that I am finally learning to swim.
To be continued ...
(The 40K ride took me 1:25:26, good for 10th out of the 13, and I needed 53:18 to cover the 9.5K run, 9th out of 13. My total race time was 3:01.)
My third triathlon was the half Ironman in Forster-Tuncurry, the home of the Australian Ironman for two decades until 2005, on December 3, 2000. In Forster, I took 46:38 to cover the 1.9K swim, among the last out of the water in a field of 732 athletes. Tim took 35:22. (I finished the whole race in 6:04:16, while Tim took 6:01:12.)
Next up the Canberra half Ironman on December 17, 2000; I spent 45:59 in the water and was the slowest out of the 22 in my age group by almost three minutes. The only other woman in my age group who needed more than 40 minutes to complete the swim took 43:01; the fastest woman in my category swam a super-swift 24:37.
To say that the swim was a struggle for me is an understatement.
In early 2001 I got my first coach -- Sydney-based John Hill, triathlon coach and elite age-group triathlete who by now has more than 50 Ironmans under his belt -- 95 percent of those were Sub-10, according to his website.
By then I had completed four triathlons, two Olympic distances in Canada and two half Ironmans in Australia, where I had moved for work on my 30th birthday in June 2000. Those races cemented two things for me; I liked triathlon and I could not swim, especially compared with Australian triathletes seemingly born to move through water like fish.
Hill's group of triathletes would meet for open water swims, either at Bondi Beach, or one of the other Eastern Suburbs' beaches, or Manly Dam, and I was consistently among the slowest for the four years I trained with them. Hill's group included some outstanding athletes and several went on to become professional triathletes and age-group champions. Others were 'regular' age groupers.
(His squad also produced a slew of triathlon coaches. And triathlete marriages, and babies.)
All training in the water was helpful, though no miracles followed. It seemed to be a lot of hard work with only minor improvements at best.
In the 2001 Canberra half Ironman, I swam 44:17, 26th out of the 29 in my AG and 724th out of a field of 756 athletes. By comparison, I rode 3:03, 13th in my AG and 642nd overall, and ran 1:49:55, 9th in my AG and 502nd overall, for a 5:37 finish time.
Still, it was better than the 50:05 I had needed in the Cairns half Ironman in June 2001, though this was an ocean swim days following a shark sighting.
At the 2002 half Ironman in Canberra, I swam 44:33, 39th out of the 40 in my division, and 772nd out of 812 athletes overall. My 3:36 bike (28th in my AG and suffering a flat on my rear wheel) and 1:46:27 run (5th in my AG) helped me finish in 6:07:46, 18th in my category.
Hill, however, stressed the importance of continuing to practice the swim, often considered of relative unimportance by triathletes since it takes up little time of any triathlon; a race is rarely won in the water, and it's human nature to be drawn to spend more time on things we are good, or at least better, at.
But Hill argued that the sooner you get out of the water, the better the athletes you'll be riding with. While drafting is not allowed, it's helpful to ride with stronger cyclists at a draft-legal distance (varying in distance but always at least 7 metres). It was key to keep working on swim technique in an effort to improve speed, he said.
So I kept at it. Tim and I did a Total Immersion Swimming course with Australia's Shane Gould who won three gold medals, a silver and a bronze at the 1972 Olympics.
I also remember swimming in a group coached by Spot Anderson, a talented and quirky fixture on the Australian triathlon scene since the 1980s.
The last time I swam with a squad was in early 2004, when I was swimming in the 50-metre Cook + Phillip pool in Sydney, Australia, initially coached by Neil Rogers before he moved to the Bondi Icebergs pool (another location for my swim workouts and one of the most stunning pools in the world). Neil swam for Australia at the 1972 and 1976 Olympic games.
As I worked on my swimming, it remained my weakest discipline without a doubt. Even in my fastest half Ironman -- 5:22:11 in Forster in late 2002 -- I needed 40:24 for the swim, after clocking 38:23 on the same course the previous year, my PB and only time I dipped under 40 minutes for that distance.
In my first Ironman (Forster-Tuncurry, Australia) in April 2002, I swam 1:19:27 in the salt-water lake. The following year, on the same course, though different conditions, I swam 1:17:16, and in April 2004 I got out of the water in 1:20:20 -- though this was a non-wetsuit swim because of the heat.
Next up, three months after the previous IM, I did Ironman Germany -- a distastrous swim, starting in the middle of the pack, and soon enough hyperventilating in the crowd of about 3,000 athletes, finishing in 1:18:55. Still not very fish like.
By then, Tim and I were travelling for a year. We were still coached by Hill, though obviously unable to train with the squad. His programs always listed when to swim, though not how. In September 2004, Tim and I began following the detailed swim workouts from Paul Huddle & Roch Frey's book Start to Finish: 24 Weeks to an Endurance Triathlon. We also followed the book's strength training program for six weeks.
These workouts included plenty of drills. And in March 2005, at Ironman New Zealand, all my hard work finally seemed to pay off: I swam 1:13:35 to cover the 3.8K in Lake Taupo. I was thrilled, even though still only 32nd out of the water in my age group. By comparison, a 3:57:29 run split there ranked me 7th in my division.
Of course that was my last triathlon. While I thought it a shame to let go of those hard-won gains, I also did not feel motivated at all to swim in the next 7-1/2 years, as I focused on my running.
I got back into the pool after signing up for Ironman Whistler 2013 to help pull myself from the depressed stupor a stubborn running injury had put me in. I anticipated another Herculean struggle. It is what I associated swimming with and I prepared myself for a very hard road back to a level of swimming fitness and ability that would allow me to finish an Ironman swim of 3.8K, regardless of time.
Easing back into the first nine sessions on my own, guided by workouts Tim wrote for me, I moved through the water better than I thought I would in the first half of November in those first few laps.
Then the local pool closed for annual maintenance and upgrades, and I didn't return until January 7 when I joined the Squamish Titans masters swim squad coached by Roseline Mondor Grimm, an NCCP swimming coach and ex-competitive swimmer who is now a Master Long-Distance swimmer.
I was worried, for sure. But, surprisingly, the first four one-hour sessions have been OK; I actually feel good in the water -- there's more gliding than fighting involved -- and the coach even tells me that I'll be speeding up as my swimming fitness improves. While that doesn't mean I'll be heading for the Olympics any time soon, it does provide a sparkle of hope that I am finally learning to swim.
To be continued ...
December 26, 2012
Running injury: a blessing in disguise
The past 12 months have been dramatic, to say the least. As a runner, I have enjoyed the highest highs and suffered the lowest lows.
2012, which marked my 17th year as a runner, began with a training regime I loved and responded well to, both mentally and physically. Everything clicked; I thoroughly enjoyed my training and saw the results in races, lowering my best times for the half marathon to 86:54 (from 88:13 in 2008) and the 10K to 39:39 (from 39:51 in 2008).
Those PRs were simply picked up along the way to my key goal -- improving my 3:06:06 marathon, set in October 2011 when I bested another 2008 PB by 64 seconds. Consistent marathon training and racing since June 2005 paid off in May this year when I ran 3:00:29 in the Vancouver marathon, a 5-1/2 minute improvement. I was on top of the world, and I knew I could go faster.
Then I made what turned out to be a critical mistake.
Instead of taking my usual time to recover, allowing at least four weeks, I embarked on a 10-week running clinic that started two weeks after the marathon. It was led by a coach I was keen to work with and I was not sure if the opportunity would come around again. It was high intensity and I ran my best times for 400m, 800m, the mile and 2 miles, all within six weeks of my fastest marathon. I also raced a 10K and a half marathon.
Not a good idea...
Increasing tightness turned into pain and six weeks later I knew something was very wrong, though did not yet have a clue about the extent of it.
I have always been extremely careful, taking care to avoid injury. I love to run, and I want to be able to do so as long as I live. Until this summer I had enjoyed nine injury-free years, during which I raced three Ironmans, 12 marathons in 3:15 and faster, completed five ultras (one 45K, two 50-milers, and two 100Ks), and a slew of other shorter running races and triathlons; I am very disciplined and work hard at staying healthy.
My success in warding off injury was part of the reason I let my guard down when I should have been most careful, and I am still suffering the consequences; I have not run for three months, and even in the prior three months my kilometres run totalled 200K at most. (That's an average of 15K a week -- in comparison, I ran at least 100K a week from July 2011 through September 2011, and again from January through April this year without any issues). I probably will not try to run again until February.
An MRI in early November (there is a two-month wait period) showed little to explain the pain in my right heel/ankle.
Crazy.
The healing procress has been frighteningly slow. It is only in the past couple of weeks that I am starting to feel a real difference; I can now walk the dog again without pain during or afterward. And I have been able to do Bikram yoga, eleven sessions in the past 14 days; at the start of July I had bought a 20-visit pass, valid until January 2nd, but stopped going as it aggravated the pain in my ankle/heel and I first needed to find out what was going on.
It is only now that I can truly start to picture running again, and that I am able to see the injury may prove to have been a blessing in disguise.
Bloodwork done because of my injury helped detect that my calcium was low, so I am now taking a supplement to boost it. The results also prompted my GP to recommend I take vitamin B12 and D and magnesium. (My iron levels were excellent, however).
To help the healing I also made significant changes to my diet, cutting down on caffeine, alcohol, sugar and gluten, while boosting the amount of veggies and fruit. Bread and pasta formed a huge part of my diet for years and nearly eliminating them has been enjoyable so far, even if a little challenging at first.
In October I signed up for Ironman Whistler 2013 because I needed positive motivation to swim and cycle again for the first time in more than seven years, cross training that I have been encouraged to do while the injury heals. I doubt I'd otherwise have entered what will be my first Ironman in 8-1/2 years. And by now I am excited about it, even if still scared too.
With the help of Tim, who gave me some fantastic workouts, I returned to the pool and found that I did not drown, even actually enjoyed swimming again after such a long layoff; freestyle has never been my forte. I am now comfortable enough to join the Titans' masters swim program, which offers three sessions a week; in fact, my first race of the season might be a swim meet -- gulp! -- on February 24 in Vancouver with the club.
I had hoped to start 2013 with the First Half Marathon and have until January 9 to accept a spot, but that is not a good idea, as tempting as it is.
Meanwhile, spinning on the wind trainer has also proved a welcome outlet for pent-up energy, and the Argon 18 Platinum and I have reconnected on short easy sessions of between 30 and 60 minutes so far.
The injury has forced me to work on strength and flexibility, and I can only benefit from this. The postures in Bikram confirm I have plenty of tightness, weakness and imbalance; they are pretty good at pointing out their exact location too. This also confirms, indeed strengthens, my belief that I can improve all the personal records I set this year with a stronger, more flexible and balanced body.
I hope to do another five Bikram classes before the end of the year to finish the remainder of my pass, and I certainly plan to incorporate this or another type of yoga in my training regime in 2013.
Also part of my new rourtine are specific exercises for my feet and ankles. My supportive sponsors Drs Paul Fleming and Leah Stadelmann have provided me with great strengthening exercises for my foot, aside from a slew of treatments, while Australia's Dr Daryl Phillips, the first ART therapist I ever saw because of an ITB injury in 2003, has given me superb ankle-mobilization exercises. I thank them for their ongoing support, which has been much appreciated.
A sports med specialist in Vancouver told me that calf raises were the key to my return to running; when I last saw him on December 12, he gave me a concrete goal; when I can do three sets of 20 single calf raises with fast drops without pain, I can try a run. He estimated it might take me six weeks. He also recommended I learn to balance on the ball of each foot for 30 seconds.
The No. 1 priority remains a return to injury-free running, period. For now, it is about Bikram, swimming and cycling, strengthening, and mobilizing. And calf raises.
2012, which marked my 17th year as a runner, began with a training regime I loved and responded well to, both mentally and physically. Everything clicked; I thoroughly enjoyed my training and saw the results in races, lowering my best times for the half marathon to 86:54 (from 88:13 in 2008) and the 10K to 39:39 (from 39:51 in 2008).
Those PRs were simply picked up along the way to my key goal -- improving my 3:06:06 marathon, set in October 2011 when I bested another 2008 PB by 64 seconds. Consistent marathon training and racing since June 2005 paid off in May this year when I ran 3:00:29 in the Vancouver marathon, a 5-1/2 minute improvement. I was on top of the world, and I knew I could go faster.
Then I made what turned out to be a critical mistake.
Instead of taking my usual time to recover, allowing at least four weeks, I embarked on a 10-week running clinic that started two weeks after the marathon. It was led by a coach I was keen to work with and I was not sure if the opportunity would come around again. It was high intensity and I ran my best times for 400m, 800m, the mile and 2 miles, all within six weeks of my fastest marathon. I also raced a 10K and a half marathon.
Not a good idea...
Increasing tightness turned into pain and six weeks later I knew something was very wrong, though did not yet have a clue about the extent of it.
I have always been extremely careful, taking care to avoid injury. I love to run, and I want to be able to do so as long as I live. Until this summer I had enjoyed nine injury-free years, during which I raced three Ironmans, 12 marathons in 3:15 and faster, completed five ultras (one 45K, two 50-milers, and two 100Ks), and a slew of other shorter running races and triathlons; I am very disciplined and work hard at staying healthy.
My success in warding off injury was part of the reason I let my guard down when I should have been most careful, and I am still suffering the consequences; I have not run for three months, and even in the prior three months my kilometres run totalled 200K at most. (That's an average of 15K a week -- in comparison, I ran at least 100K a week from July 2011 through September 2011, and again from January through April this year without any issues). I probably will not try to run again until February.
An MRI in early November (there is a two-month wait period) showed little to explain the pain in my right heel/ankle.
Crazy.
The healing procress has been frighteningly slow. It is only in the past couple of weeks that I am starting to feel a real difference; I can now walk the dog again without pain during or afterward. And I have been able to do Bikram yoga, eleven sessions in the past 14 days; at the start of July I had bought a 20-visit pass, valid until January 2nd, but stopped going as it aggravated the pain in my ankle/heel and I first needed to find out what was going on.
It is only now that I can truly start to picture running again, and that I am able to see the injury may prove to have been a blessing in disguise.
Bloodwork done because of my injury helped detect that my calcium was low, so I am now taking a supplement to boost it. The results also prompted my GP to recommend I take vitamin B12 and D and magnesium. (My iron levels were excellent, however).
To help the healing I also made significant changes to my diet, cutting down on caffeine, alcohol, sugar and gluten, while boosting the amount of veggies and fruit. Bread and pasta formed a huge part of my diet for years and nearly eliminating them has been enjoyable so far, even if a little challenging at first.
In October I signed up for Ironman Whistler 2013 because I needed positive motivation to swim and cycle again for the first time in more than seven years, cross training that I have been encouraged to do while the injury heals. I doubt I'd otherwise have entered what will be my first Ironman in 8-1/2 years. And by now I am excited about it, even if still scared too.
With the help of Tim, who gave me some fantastic workouts, I returned to the pool and found that I did not drown, even actually enjoyed swimming again after such a long layoff; freestyle has never been my forte. I am now comfortable enough to join the Titans' masters swim program, which offers three sessions a week; in fact, my first race of the season might be a swim meet -- gulp! -- on February 24 in Vancouver with the club.
I had hoped to start 2013 with the First Half Marathon and have until January 9 to accept a spot, but that is not a good idea, as tempting as it is.
Meanwhile, spinning on the wind trainer has also proved a welcome outlet for pent-up energy, and the Argon 18 Platinum and I have reconnected on short easy sessions of between 30 and 60 minutes so far.
The injury has forced me to work on strength and flexibility, and I can only benefit from this. The postures in Bikram confirm I have plenty of tightness, weakness and imbalance; they are pretty good at pointing out their exact location too. This also confirms, indeed strengthens, my belief that I can improve all the personal records I set this year with a stronger, more flexible and balanced body.
I hope to do another five Bikram classes before the end of the year to finish the remainder of my pass, and I certainly plan to incorporate this or another type of yoga in my training regime in 2013.
Also part of my new rourtine are specific exercises for my feet and ankles. My supportive sponsors Drs Paul Fleming and Leah Stadelmann have provided me with great strengthening exercises for my foot, aside from a slew of treatments, while Australia's Dr Daryl Phillips, the first ART therapist I ever saw because of an ITB injury in 2003, has given me superb ankle-mobilization exercises. I thank them for their ongoing support, which has been much appreciated.
A sports med specialist in Vancouver told me that calf raises were the key to my return to running; when I last saw him on December 12, he gave me a concrete goal; when I can do three sets of 20 single calf raises with fast drops without pain, I can try a run. He estimated it might take me six weeks. He also recommended I learn to balance on the ball of each foot for 30 seconds.
The No. 1 priority remains a return to injury-free running, period. For now, it is about Bikram, swimming and cycling, strengthening, and mobilizing. And calf raises.
November 05, 2012
Kickstarting swim, bike for Ironman Whistler
Runners all ages, shapes and sizes pass by my window daily. Some have chosen company, others opted for solitude or a rhythmic technological companion. I watch them, scanning their faces and body language for signs of the rapture I am missing so much, and wonder when, if, I'll be able to join them again.
This Tuesday I am getting an MRI at St Paul's hospital in Vancouver, a request made by my GP eight weeks earlier. However, the physician I saw at the go-to sports medicine clinic in Vancouver told me two weeks ago he doesn't expect the MRI to show anything to help explain my injury. Both good and bad news, if he's proven right.
For now, I don't expect to run again this year. In October I ran once, in September four times (all therapist prescribed) -- short easy jogs, interrupted by walks, and all ending with the same conclusion: whatever my problem, it certainly hasn't been solved.
Mentally managing the uncertainty of a long layoff from running -- my first in the 17-year-long lifespan I have as a runner -- and the worry that I might never be able to run again, let alone train for a Sub-3 marathon, has become the priority.
Self-awareness plays a key role. I know what motivates me just as I recognize what typically causes me to procrastinate. There's no rocket science to it; I simply need a goal that excites me, something I can sink my teeth into, something that scares me a little (or a lot). It's usually something that requires commitment and immediate, but manageable, action.
Intuition is another important ingredient. Several of the books I've read recently cite research by Dr Candace Pert which proved the scientific truth behind the saying, "Go with your gut."
"The work of Pert and her colleagues showed that a variety of proteins known as peptides (including endorphins) were among the body's key 'information substances'—and each of them could affect our mind, our emotions, our immune system, our digestion and other bodily functions simultaneously,'' according Paul Trachtman's review of Pert's book Molecules of Emotion: The Science Behind Mind-Body Medicine (1999) for Smithsonian magazine.
Having read about the science behind the value of 'hunches' helped me trust my intuition to sign up for Ironman Whistler last month, even though I had thusfar felt completely unmotivated to swim or ride as cross training, as was recommended to me.
Indeed, it helped me trust my intuition to sign up for my first Ironman since finishing Ironman New Zealand in March 2005, because I had thusfar felt completely unmotivated to swim or ride as cross training. I hoped that committing, at least financially, to this big scary goal would give me a reason, a positive reason, to return to swimming and cycling; I'd swim and cycle to get ready for Ironman, rather than only because I cannot run. Big mental difference.
I knew that riding on the windtrainer, as I will be doing until Spring next year, will simply be a matter of doing it, taking the time to slowly build that bike fitness from scratch. That also means I have plenty of time to search for a strategy that will help me overcome my fear of riding downhill; being able to train on the Ironman Whistler course regularly should help.
Returning to the pool was a different matter altogether. While I have a decent breast stroke, I had to learn freestyle when I started doing triathlons and it was a long hard slog.
In my first Ironman in Forster-Tuncurry, Australia, in 2002, I swam 1:19:27. The following year, I came out of the water in 1:17:16, before swimming 1:20:20 in 2004, though that year wetsuits weren't allowed because the water exceeded 24 degrees C.
Several months after completing my third Ironman Australia in April 2004, I did Ironman Frankfurt. The swim was awful; I finished it in 1:18:55. The next goal was Ironman New Zealand in March 2005, and I worked very hard on my swimming with plenty of drills, which finally paid off with a big PB swim of 1:13:35 in Taupo. That's also when I stopped swimming, as I opted to focus on running instead.
Two weeks ago I did my first swim training since March 2005, and was very relieved to find that I could at least cover the 25 metres of one length of the Squamish pool. I even sort of enjoyed it. Triathlete Tim had given me a workout that only included 25s, and those felt manageable.
I have swum five times now, and the last two workouts prescribed by Tim added up to 1.3K each and included two 100s. There's a long way to go before I'll be ready to swim 3.8K but it's a good start. I want to get a few more swims in this week as unfortunately our pool will close for six weeks as of Nov 12 for annual maintenance.
I have spun on my bike 10 times in the last 2-1/2 weeks, beginning with easy 30-minute rides to ease into reconnecting with my inner cyclist again. I am enjoying it, and today I did my longest spin yet at 60 minutes. I know that the hardest work ahead of me on the bike is the mental challenge to ride on the hilly course, but that won't happen until winter gives way to spring.
To help build upper body strength, and leg strength too, Tim and I have started going to a local gym where we're following a routine we've done before from Start to Finish Ironman Training: 24 Weeks to an Endurance Triathlon by Paul Huddle, Roch Frey, and TJ Murphy.
As I have slowly started the preparations for a return to Ironman, I thankfully no longer wake up in the middle of the night with a brick in my stomach wondering what on Earth I have gotten myself into, as I did the first couple of nights following my entry. It also helped that Tim, a 10-time Ironman finisher with a 10:09 PB and a Kona finish, told me he still feels scared signing up for the next one.
By now, I am excited about the training ahead. I have a positive reason to exercise, which I love and need, as I seek the answer to my running injury. Perhaps I have already found it.
This Tuesday I am getting an MRI at St Paul's hospital in Vancouver, a request made by my GP eight weeks earlier. However, the physician I saw at the go-to sports medicine clinic in Vancouver told me two weeks ago he doesn't expect the MRI to show anything to help explain my injury. Both good and bad news, if he's proven right.
For now, I don't expect to run again this year. In October I ran once, in September four times (all therapist prescribed) -- short easy jogs, interrupted by walks, and all ending with the same conclusion: whatever my problem, it certainly hasn't been solved.
Mentally managing the uncertainty of a long layoff from running -- my first in the 17-year-long lifespan I have as a runner -- and the worry that I might never be able to run again, let alone train for a Sub-3 marathon, has become the priority.
Self-awareness plays a key role. I know what motivates me just as I recognize what typically causes me to procrastinate. There's no rocket science to it; I simply need a goal that excites me, something I can sink my teeth into, something that scares me a little (or a lot). It's usually something that requires commitment and immediate, but manageable, action.
Intuition is another important ingredient. Several of the books I've read recently cite research by Dr Candace Pert which proved the scientific truth behind the saying, "Go with your gut."
"The work of Pert and her colleagues showed that a variety of proteins known as peptides (including endorphins) were among the body's key 'information substances'—and each of them could affect our mind, our emotions, our immune system, our digestion and other bodily functions simultaneously,'' according Paul Trachtman's review of Pert's book Molecules of Emotion: The Science Behind Mind-Body Medicine (1999) for Smithsonian magazine.
Having read about the science behind the value of 'hunches' helped me trust my intuition to sign up for Ironman Whistler last month, even though I had thusfar felt completely unmotivated to swim or ride as cross training, as was recommended to me.
Indeed, it helped me trust my intuition to sign up for my first Ironman since finishing Ironman New Zealand in March 2005, because I had thusfar felt completely unmotivated to swim or ride as cross training. I hoped that committing, at least financially, to this big scary goal would give me a reason, a positive reason, to return to swimming and cycling; I'd swim and cycle to get ready for Ironman, rather than only because I cannot run. Big mental difference.
I knew that riding on the windtrainer, as I will be doing until Spring next year, will simply be a matter of doing it, taking the time to slowly build that bike fitness from scratch. That also means I have plenty of time to search for a strategy that will help me overcome my fear of riding downhill; being able to train on the Ironman Whistler course regularly should help.
Returning to the pool was a different matter altogether. While I have a decent breast stroke, I had to learn freestyle when I started doing triathlons and it was a long hard slog.
In my first Ironman in Forster-Tuncurry, Australia, in 2002, I swam 1:19:27. The following year, I came out of the water in 1:17:16, before swimming 1:20:20 in 2004, though that year wetsuits weren't allowed because the water exceeded 24 degrees C.
Several months after completing my third Ironman Australia in April 2004, I did Ironman Frankfurt. The swim was awful; I finished it in 1:18:55. The next goal was Ironman New Zealand in March 2005, and I worked very hard on my swimming with plenty of drills, which finally paid off with a big PB swim of 1:13:35 in Taupo. That's also when I stopped swimming, as I opted to focus on running instead.
Two weeks ago I did my first swim training since March 2005, and was very relieved to find that I could at least cover the 25 metres of one length of the Squamish pool. I even sort of enjoyed it. Triathlete Tim had given me a workout that only included 25s, and those felt manageable.
I have swum five times now, and the last two workouts prescribed by Tim added up to 1.3K each and included two 100s. There's a long way to go before I'll be ready to swim 3.8K but it's a good start. I want to get a few more swims in this week as unfortunately our pool will close for six weeks as of Nov 12 for annual maintenance.
 |
| Luka is cheering me on ... I think |
To help build upper body strength, and leg strength too, Tim and I have started going to a local gym where we're following a routine we've done before from Start to Finish Ironman Training: 24 Weeks to an Endurance Triathlon by Paul Huddle, Roch Frey, and TJ Murphy.
As I have slowly started the preparations for a return to Ironman, I thankfully no longer wake up in the middle of the night with a brick in my stomach wondering what on Earth I have gotten myself into, as I did the first couple of nights following my entry. It also helped that Tim, a 10-time Ironman finisher with a 10:09 PB and a Kona finish, told me he still feels scared signing up for the next one.
By now, I am excited about the training ahead. I have a positive reason to exercise, which I love and need, as I seek the answer to my running injury. Perhaps I have already found it.
October 23, 2012
Return to Ironman: Whistler 2013
"I thought you never wanted to do one of those again?" my dad said on the phone.
Well, that's not quite true; I had thought more of it as, you know, maybe, possibly, one day.
Since finishing my fifth Ironman in New Zealand in March 2005, I decided to focus on running, never looking back as I slowly and surely improved; earlier this year, at the age of 41, I ran personal records for the 10K, half marathon and -- most importantly -- the marathon at 3:00:29 (on a course that was later declared up to 400 metres long for the top finishers including me).
What's more, I knew I could run faster.
On a high from these results and greedy for more speed, I began a 10-week high intensity program with a coach 2-1/2 weeks after the Vancouver marathon in early May. Bad move. Disaster struck within a month, though it has taken me four months and counting to to realize the extent of it.
In my 16 years of running (and including six years of triathlon) I have only suffered one previous major injury, an ITB problem in 2003. In the nine years since that injury, I have done three Ironmans, 12 marathons including 11 in 3:15 and faster, and completed five ultras without any issues that couldn't be fixed with a couple of treatments.
So this mysterious pain that prevents me from running, even walking at times, and doesn't seem to handle driving well either, has been tough to deal with. While the symptoms are clear, it has proven hard to pinpoint and I still don't have a diagnosis.
I do know that it hasn't responded to the Active Release Technique, Trigger Point massage and IMS (Intramuscular Stimulation) treatments I have received in the past four months; all were done by qualified and experienced professionals whom I'd recommend highly without hesitation.
This week I am seeing a physician who specializes in sports medicine, in particular field hockey, football and running, and I am scheduled for an MRI on November 6 (it will be eight weeks since that request was made).
The last few months have been challenging, and I've had to keep my mind in check. By and large, I remain optimistic though have found it hard to motivate myself for cross training, with swimming and cycling high on the list of recommended activities.
I am a runner, I love to run. But I can't at the moment and have no idea when I'll be able to run again.
Finally last week I got on my bike because I wanted -- needed -- to doing something. I realized that the last time my Argon 18 had been used was in Ironman New Zealand 7-1/2 years ago. Wow.
I did my first triathlon, an Olympic distance in June 1999, and my last in March 2005. I now have been away from the sport for a longer period of time than I was in it.
In 2005, I simply stopped riding my bike and gave up swimming without too much regret to focus on running. As my passion for running grew it erased any interest I had in a return to triathlon, though I have remained closely involved in the sport through Tim's training and racing, friends, and my work as a writer and editor.
While I certainly wasn't compelled to swim or ride, I have kept all my triathlon gear (bike, wetsuit, clothing) except for my Zipp race wheels; Tim discouraged me from selling the carbon bike used only in preparation for and racing at IM NZ, even as it simply sat there gathering dust.
"It's unlikely you'd ever buy a bike of that quality again," he'd say. "Besides, you'll never get your money back in selling it."
"But what if I never ride it again?"
"Don't sell it."
Then Ironman Whistler was announced. An Ironman around the corner. With 100 Kona slots. Of course Tim signed up on Tuesday, as did a neighbour and other friends both locally and overseas who had registered for priority entry. The thought of signing up had crossed my mind, though I dismissed the idea very quickly. Or so I thought.
When general online registration opened Thursday at noon, I found myself filling out the entry form; my fingers were typing even as my brain was thinking, No, absolutely not, NO WAY.
Fear is powerful. Fear can be paralyzing. It also can propel you into action, and disappear when you challenge it. I couldn't deny the excitement I felt; the familiar thrill of wild abandon in committing to a clear goal that is as electrifying as it is terrifying. Giddiness that trumps all reason and rationale; a gut feeling that something is completely logical in its inherent craziness and that, despite trying very hard, is impossible to ignore.
I paid my $736.31 accepting that I may discover over the next few months that I am no longer cut out for triathlon, that the desire and excitement for Ironman training and racing remains overshadowed by the fear of mass swim starts and riding big downhills, fears that I dealt with in each of the five Ironmans I did between 2002 and 2005. Or, as I hope and expect, I may find myself a triathlete again, loving the feeling of supreme fitness that comes with training in three disciplines.
IM Whistler is here, now. And so am I. So why wait? What would I be waiting for? Turning 45, 50, 55 or 60? If I don't want do Ironman now, why would I want to do it later? Let's do it now. At least I'll finally have some powerful motivation to get back on my bike (the windtrainer until next spring) and into the pool; if nothing else, there will be good crosstraining ahead while I search for the answer to my running injury.
Well, that's not quite true; I had thought more of it as, you know, maybe, possibly, one day.
Since finishing my fifth Ironman in New Zealand in March 2005, I decided to focus on running, never looking back as I slowly and surely improved; earlier this year, at the age of 41, I ran personal records for the 10K, half marathon and -- most importantly -- the marathon at 3:00:29 (on a course that was later declared up to 400 metres long for the top finishers including me).
What's more, I knew I could run faster.
On a high from these results and greedy for more speed, I began a 10-week high intensity program with a coach 2-1/2 weeks after the Vancouver marathon in early May. Bad move. Disaster struck within a month, though it has taken me four months and counting to to realize the extent of it.
In my 16 years of running (and including six years of triathlon) I have only suffered one previous major injury, an ITB problem in 2003. In the nine years since that injury, I have done three Ironmans, 12 marathons including 11 in 3:15 and faster, and completed five ultras without any issues that couldn't be fixed with a couple of treatments.
So this mysterious pain that prevents me from running, even walking at times, and doesn't seem to handle driving well either, has been tough to deal with. While the symptoms are clear, it has proven hard to pinpoint and I still don't have a diagnosis.
I do know that it hasn't responded to the Active Release Technique, Trigger Point massage and IMS (Intramuscular Stimulation) treatments I have received in the past four months; all were done by qualified and experienced professionals whom I'd recommend highly without hesitation.
This week I am seeing a physician who specializes in sports medicine, in particular field hockey, football and running, and I am scheduled for an MRI on November 6 (it will be eight weeks since that request was made).
The last few months have been challenging, and I've had to keep my mind in check. By and large, I remain optimistic though have found it hard to motivate myself for cross training, with swimming and cycling high on the list of recommended activities.
I am a runner, I love to run. But I can't at the moment and have no idea when I'll be able to run again.
Finally last week I got on my bike because I wanted -- needed -- to doing something. I realized that the last time my Argon 18 had been used was in Ironman New Zealand 7-1/2 years ago. Wow.
I did my first triathlon, an Olympic distance in June 1999, and my last in March 2005. I now have been away from the sport for a longer period of time than I was in it.
In 2005, I simply stopped riding my bike and gave up swimming without too much regret to focus on running. As my passion for running grew it erased any interest I had in a return to triathlon, though I have remained closely involved in the sport through Tim's training and racing, friends, and my work as a writer and editor.
While I certainly wasn't compelled to swim or ride, I have kept all my triathlon gear (bike, wetsuit, clothing) except for my Zipp race wheels; Tim discouraged me from selling the carbon bike used only in preparation for and racing at IM NZ, even as it simply sat there gathering dust.
"It's unlikely you'd ever buy a bike of that quality again," he'd say. "Besides, you'll never get your money back in selling it."
"But what if I never ride it again?"
"Don't sell it."
Then Ironman Whistler was announced. An Ironman around the corner. With 100 Kona slots. Of course Tim signed up on Tuesday, as did a neighbour and other friends both locally and overseas who had registered for priority entry. The thought of signing up had crossed my mind, though I dismissed the idea very quickly. Or so I thought.
When general online registration opened Thursday at noon, I found myself filling out the entry form; my fingers were typing even as my brain was thinking, No, absolutely not, NO WAY.
Fear is powerful. Fear can be paralyzing. It also can propel you into action, and disappear when you challenge it. I couldn't deny the excitement I felt; the familiar thrill of wild abandon in committing to a clear goal that is as electrifying as it is terrifying. Giddiness that trumps all reason and rationale; a gut feeling that something is completely logical in its inherent craziness and that, despite trying very hard, is impossible to ignore.
I paid my $736.31 accepting that I may discover over the next few months that I am no longer cut out for triathlon, that the desire and excitement for Ironman training and racing remains overshadowed by the fear of mass swim starts and riding big downhills, fears that I dealt with in each of the five Ironmans I did between 2002 and 2005. Or, as I hope and expect, I may find myself a triathlete again, loving the feeling of supreme fitness that comes with training in three disciplines.
IM Whistler is here, now. And so am I. So why wait? What would I be waiting for? Turning 45, 50, 55 or 60? If I don't want do Ironman now, why would I want to do it later? Let's do it now. At least I'll finally have some powerful motivation to get back on my bike (the windtrainer until next spring) and into the pool; if nothing else, there will be good crosstraining ahead while I search for the answer to my running injury.
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