Last week, with 17 weeks to go until Ironman Whistler, my body made clear that it was not ready to run. In fact it made clear it was not ready for much riding either, especially in the aero position.
While that was far from good news, it also confirmed that the pain in my heel was merely a symptom, not the cause. The real problem lies in my hips, glutes and piriformis. Unless I fix that soon, I will only be able to do the 3.8K swim on August 25.
From the outset, my registration was about helping me cope with the injury. It was about helping me overcome the reluctance to resume swimming and cycling as it became clear run training was off the menu for a while. As an athlete I am new to dealing with a long layoff from running; I have never had to do that before.
For me, registering for Ironman was also about not losing hope that one day I will be running again, training and racing freely. And in the last few months my optimism about my future as a runner has strengthened. But I have also realized it is going to take a lot more effort and work. And Ironman might arrive too soon.
Bikram yoga will form a key part of my new plan of action to help restore my body's ability to run, to increase my chances to do Ironman, as planned.
Yesterday I began a 32-day challenge of practicing daily. I feel that my body needs it -- my hips, glutes, piriformis, my spine need more flexibility and strength. I have no doubt that these 32 days will be extremely hard but I believe that the benefits and rewards will far outweigh the effort.
Last night, before practice, I told Bikram Yoga Sea to Sky owner and teacher Jena about my intention because I wanted to commit myself to it. Accountability is also part of the reason I am writing this post. In the past three months I have done 21 Bikram classes, so an average of seven per month, less than two a week, compared with the 31 I did the prior six weeks, as I have easily found reasons to "go tomorrow".
Life is busy, so if I want to add something to the schedule I have to commit wholeheartedly and create the time. Reserve the space in my day and mind to practice those 90 minutes every day for one month.
Yesterday's practice was challenging, as my body was tired from the three-day swim meet over the weekend. I probably had not rehydrated well enough either. It confirmed that it had been a good decision to tell Jena about the plan because otherwise I might have skipped today, and the next day, thinking the challenge could wait until "later".
But I know that my body needs it now. How do I know that? Ten days ago, Jena read a quote during practice, which went something like: When you come to the end of what you know, you arrive at the beginning of what you sense. And I sense that Bikram holds the key to my recovery. I certainly sense it is worth trying and seeing what happens.
So I am planning on today's 5:30pm class for day 2 of my 32-day challenge. Namaste.
Showing posts with label triathlon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label triathlon. Show all posts
May 01, 2013
March 06, 2013
Running into roadblocks
Everything happens for a reason. If it is meant to be, it is meant to be. What goes around, comes around.
These often-heard lines portray the human desire to make sense of life, to see purpose and meaning behind what might also be seen as a series of random events that happen to each one of us, to create a moral compass for our conduct especially in the way we treat others, and to instill an awareness that our actions have consequences.
Yesterday morning was a nice one as Luka and I set off on our walk. I opted to head to the start of our street, passing the site where the new neighbourhood of Crumpit Woods is being built, and then veer left onto a trail that splits and offers several options.
A favourite, Summer's Eve, is closed because of the construction which at this stage includes regular blasting of the underlying rock.
Instead, we headed over to The Graduate, a relatively new trail that slowly winds its way toward the Three Virgins, before connecting to the part of Seven Stitches that remains open for now. It was quiet and we had the trails to ourselves.
Enjoying the immersion into lush rainforest, I was also lost in thoughts, pondering the application to a writing program, while Luka was entertained by the ball I had brought for him.
WHAM!
Both my knees hit hard rock embedded in the trail. The pain was instant and severe, one knee of the Levi's jeans I have owned for less than three months ripped on impact. Sitting dazed on all fours, I couldn't help myself and started wailing, out of agony but especially frustration.
What the hell?!
I was still recovering from the flu -- my first in a long, long time -- that had knocked me flat for the past five days; no Computrainer on Thursday, no swim on Friday morning or no Bikram on Friday evening, no long ride on Saturday morning or yoga on Saturday afternoon, no power walk with short stretches of running on Sunday. I also had to forget about the swim on Monday evening and the once-a-month flip-turn training on Tuesday morning. I even had to miss daily doggy walks.
And now I could also clearly forget about my plan for Bikram yoga on Tuesday evening.
It has been only four weeks since I stubbed the middle toe of my right foot so hard against the metal leg of my wind trainer that I went to the hospital to rule out a fracture with an X-ray; earlier that day I had successfully tried running 30-second stretches after a four-month complete layoff.
The last thing I needed were a pair of scraped and bruised knees, demanding another interruption of training and more patience. Grateful that at least the fall hadn't seemed to cause anything worse, that my jeans were the only thing torn when my left shoe got stuck under a root in the trail, I wondered about the meaning, the purpose of these ongoing interruptions to my training.
Am I being tested? And if so, why and for what? Or are these just random events that happen to occur in a relatively short space of time to the same person? Is it a reminder to live more in the moment, do I need to pay more attention, am I trying too hard to do too many things? Or is it just an unfortunate accident, something that simply happened?
After the past eight months of dealing with an injury that has been slow to heal -- and I still don't know for sure that it has -- I notice my tolerance for additional pain and misfortune is low. The aggravation by yet another little mishap that keeps me from the training routine I have only recently found again may seem out of proportion but I have been walking on athletic eggshells for a long time.
I just want to train. I am not even asking to run right now, though I was thrilled to run four 2-minute stretches last Wednesday; swimming, cycling and practicing yoga have made me a very content athlete over the past three months. I love being active. I need to be active.
"Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterward," read a quote by Vernon Law I found in an article in my inbox this morning.
The lesson, for now, is to get up again, brush myself off and keep moving. Be grateful. My knees feel much better this morning; I have hurt them worse in previous face plants which, come to think of it, hadn't happened in nearly two years.
My flu is almost gone, but I'll skip tonight's swim training to be safe. I should be OK for a doggy walk later today, though I might avoid Seven Stitches for now. The sun is shining.
These often-heard lines portray the human desire to make sense of life, to see purpose and meaning behind what might also be seen as a series of random events that happen to each one of us, to create a moral compass for our conduct especially in the way we treat others, and to instill an awareness that our actions have consequences.
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| Image by Sorca |
A favourite, Summer's Eve, is closed because of the construction which at this stage includes regular blasting of the underlying rock.
Instead, we headed over to The Graduate, a relatively new trail that slowly winds its way toward the Three Virgins, before connecting to the part of Seven Stitches that remains open for now. It was quiet and we had the trails to ourselves.
Enjoying the immersion into lush rainforest, I was also lost in thoughts, pondering the application to a writing program, while Luka was entertained by the ball I had brought for him.
WHAM!
Both my knees hit hard rock embedded in the trail. The pain was instant and severe, one knee of the Levi's jeans I have owned for less than three months ripped on impact. Sitting dazed on all fours, I couldn't help myself and started wailing, out of agony but especially frustration.
What the hell?!
I was still recovering from the flu -- my first in a long, long time -- that had knocked me flat for the past five days; no Computrainer on Thursday, no swim on Friday morning or no Bikram on Friday evening, no long ride on Saturday morning or yoga on Saturday afternoon, no power walk with short stretches of running on Sunday. I also had to forget about the swim on Monday evening and the once-a-month flip-turn training on Tuesday morning. I even had to miss daily doggy walks.
And now I could also clearly forget about my plan for Bikram yoga on Tuesday evening.
It has been only four weeks since I stubbed the middle toe of my right foot so hard against the metal leg of my wind trainer that I went to the hospital to rule out a fracture with an X-ray; earlier that day I had successfully tried running 30-second stretches after a four-month complete layoff.
The last thing I needed were a pair of scraped and bruised knees, demanding another interruption of training and more patience. Grateful that at least the fall hadn't seemed to cause anything worse, that my jeans were the only thing torn when my left shoe got stuck under a root in the trail, I wondered about the meaning, the purpose of these ongoing interruptions to my training.
Am I being tested? And if so, why and for what? Or are these just random events that happen to occur in a relatively short space of time to the same person? Is it a reminder to live more in the moment, do I need to pay more attention, am I trying too hard to do too many things? Or is it just an unfortunate accident, something that simply happened?
After the past eight months of dealing with an injury that has been slow to heal -- and I still don't know for sure that it has -- I notice my tolerance for additional pain and misfortune is low. The aggravation by yet another little mishap that keeps me from the training routine I have only recently found again may seem out of proportion but I have been walking on athletic eggshells for a long time.
I just want to train. I am not even asking to run right now, though I was thrilled to run four 2-minute stretches last Wednesday; swimming, cycling and practicing yoga have made me a very content athlete over the past three months. I love being active. I need to be active.
"Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterward," read a quote by Vernon Law I found in an article in my inbox this morning.
The lesson, for now, is to get up again, brush myself off and keep moving. Be grateful. My knees feel much better this morning; I have hurt them worse in previous face plants which, come to think of it, hadn't happened in nearly two years.
My flu is almost gone, but I'll skip tonight's swim training to be safe. I should be OK for a doggy walk later today, though I might avoid Seven Stitches for now. The sun is shining.
January 24, 2013
Running in Moscow, Russia
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| Derek Gagne |
The Senior Project Manager for Contemporary International arrived in Moscow in October 2012, just days before Ironman Canada said it had found a new home in his former backyard.
Alas, Derek consoles himself with a running regime as he believes it a perfect time to work on improving his marathon personal best time of 3:55:15. Moscow offers two marathons in the time he'll live there, and he plans to do both.
Derek spent his first two months getting used to his new environment, before heading back to Canada for the holidays. He'll return to Russia next month, this time with his wife Kirsten and their three young children; the family will be based in Moscow until October 2013, before moving to Sochi where they'll be until April 2014. They haven't yet made plans beyond that…
I was curious about his thoughts and experiences on running in Moscow, and here's what he said:
I assume you brought running gear with you. What did you bring? Anything you're missing?
I brought two brandnew pairs of shoes, clothes for indoor running at the gym and all my outdoor fall/winter running wear. My thermal Under Armour tights are a life saver and it is key to wear several base layers when outdoors here. It's windy. I also brought 24 Double Latte Power Gels, a few tubes of Nuun, my Garmin watch, Petzl headlamp, mini foam roller and all my favourite running toques. I brought all I needed to make it from October 11 to December 19.
During a break in Canada over the December 2012/January 2013 holidays, Derek decided to upgrade his Russian running wardrobe only with "an old-school track suit."
Even in Whistler, I just wear my normal running gear and add either the track pants or jacket or both depending on the weather. Just needed another layer but, quite frankly, I was too cheap to buy the 'proper' winter technical running gear as the window to use it is a small one. So far, what I bought is working out well for me with a toque and gloves.
Are there any running stores or some place that allows you to buy clothing, shoes, socks, nutrition for running?
I have not really looked yet as I have not needed to but I am sure they are here. The locals have an expression here: "In Moscow you can find anything you want...as long as you are willing to pay the price."
Funny story—I did come across one running store by luck just walking around, great shop, I was admiring the Salomon shoes with the metal spikes on the bottom. The owner of the shop did not speak great English but enough to tell me he competes in ultra races in the Alps. He said, "Ah you are from Vancouver, you have Arc'teryx...very good, I like."
Why did you decide to run there, rather than any other sport?
As a triathlete, of course I considered the three sports to try and stay in tri shape. Cycling here is a death wish. You only see bikes in the parks. I will swim to cross train but with no races on the horizon (tri races), not much point being in the pool too much. I decided to run because for me it is a great way to stay in all-around shape, I can do it anywhere.
I figure, if I can keep my weekly long-run fitness at two hours, I could do a half iron at any time; my swim and bike would not be as good as usual but if I keep the running, I know I will maintain the base I want and can plan to increase from two-hour long runs for a few marathons in 2013.
How long after you arrived in Moscow did you go for your first run?
About three days, I was jet-lagged and wide awake at 6am so I decide to go out on the sidewalks of the busy streets where I was living at the time.
How had you prepared?
I did not prepare at all—that was not smart. I went running down a busy street trying to get to a park and went the wrong way in the dark. I had my Petzl light on my head which was flashing: let me tell you, that got a lot of weird looks and some people stopped in their tracks to observe what this crazy person was doing.
What has surprised you?
The overall lack of outdoor recreation, although I knew this based on the research I had done prior to coming here. Overall, it is not a very fitness/wellness oriented culture—unlike Vancouver. For example, most people smoke, in restaurants, bars, cafes. I took my body about two weeks to adjust to the (poor) air quality. You go out on a run, even in the park, and it smells like cigarettes.
The other thing that surprised me is how aware you have to be of the road surface you are running on. Out of nowhere there are holes in the road, pieces of rebar sticking out, overall very uneven surfaces.
Have you seen any other runners at all so far? Are there running clubs? Races? Magazines (whether Russian or any other languages—a Runner's World available anywhere)?
I am now settled into a routine where I do short runs indoors at the gym during the week cause it's dark and I do my long runs on Sat and Sun in Gorky Park. Here there are many runners, roller bladers, cyclists—and NO cars. I have not yet found any clubs but there a few websites 42km.ru which is a good resource.
How many runs have you done by now?
I have been here just under two months and I have done at least 10 long runs in the park...not many, I know...still getting settled. I took me about two weeks to get over the jet lag, worst I have ever had as it is exactly 12 hours ahead.
What kind of routes have you found?
Gorky Park is great. You can do pavement (road), "seawall" along the river or go into the woods and do trails with some great hill climbs. I am very happy to be living next to this park. It is a great place along the Moscow river and can be compared to the Seawall in Stanley park. Without the trees, without the even road surface, and without the ocean but, regardless, you get my point – it's nice for Moscow.
There are great hills, trail running and the "seawall" along the river. You can easily do an out-and-back 20K run. And, there are other runners! You can tell the expats who are running because they recognize your gear (Ironman visor, Subaru shirt, Vancouver Marathon gloves) and they say hi. So, I have made it my mission to wave hello to every runner I see. Occasionally a few wave back and others just go along their way.
Do you feel comfortable running there?
Yes, absolutely, but it took a few weeks to get over the initial fear of traffic and stories of police stopping people to ask to see your passport (which I have not ever seen actually happen). I would say that other then the traffic, it just as safe as any other big international city.
What time of the day do you usually run?
For my long runs outside, usually around noon when it warms up and it is bright.
What do your colleagues think about your running? Any of them running with you?
Some have said, "That is crazy—it's too cold, that's too far, that's to dangerous..." Others are gym rats so they do not get it. Many of the gyms are more of a fashion show than a gym. None of them are running with me.
What are your running goals in Moscow, Sochi? Have those goals changed since you arrived?
For Moscow there are two marathons, one in May and one in September 2013. I would like to do both. I am still after my 3:45 (or better) PB. At this point I have no idea what Sochi will bring although I am told the traffic there is worse than Moscow because it does not have the public transit (metro) like Moscow.
Any cool local races you're drooling over? Any you've committed to?
Not committed to anything yet. Was looking at some winter ice marathons but logistically too complicated. I would like to get in two or three good marathons in 2013. I might also plan some vacation in Europe and tie in a race...I am starting my research.
Derek also decided to join a gym in Moscow and experienced his first spinning class.
This week was the first one where I really started to get into the return on the price of my gym membership (organ donation required). I joined a chain called World Class after visiting four other local gyms. This is the first gym membership I have purchased: as a triathlete, I run outside, bike outside and just go to the local rec centre pool. There are no rec centres in Moscow, not that I have found. So, as long as there is no ice on the ground, I will run outside but I have gotten into the pool (25m, two lanes), weights, core exercises and yes... a spin class.
I figured I should stay in triathlete shape for when they announce Ironman Moscow in 2013...
The gym is entertaining. The people range from your normal gym goer, to men who look like those strong men who pull a bus or jet with a rope (with the biggest beards I have ever seen), to the fashion queen in designer gym wear and D&G sun glasses (yes, sunglasses indoors).
Spin class...always wanted to try one, now is my chance to see if a keen cyclist can survive on spin classes alone. First, yes, the class is in Russian. The gym uses a program called LesMills; from what I gather they have a series of programs that gyms get certified to offer.
Even if in Russian I thought, how hard can it be, pedal fast, pedal hard, out of sadle....just watch and copy the instructor. It turns out to be really fun and it is one hell of a workout as the class lasts 55 minutes, and it is high intensity. And, they use some key English words thrown in with the Russian like: easy, race, aero, plus (more tension). All this to say it is fun.
My last class, the instructor asked me a question to which I replied "No Russian, English" (with my broken Russian). He then said something in Russian and the entire class laughed so not sure what that was about...
Follow Derek's life in Moscow on http://gofasterdada.blogspot.ca/
Check out his professional page at http://derekgagne.com/
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.
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| 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.
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.
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.
April 26, 2011
NEW! Sub Nine: History's Fastest Ironwomen
Every generation is defined in part by the achievements of its athletes. Triathlon is one of the youngest and one of the fastest growing sports around the world. In the last four seasons in particular, professional women triathletes have been pacing each other to faster and faster finishing times. This book profiles the fastest iron-distance women professionals-ever. In all, 22 women have finished an iron-distance race in less than 9 hours. Make no mistake, these are the elite of the elites. This book contains snapshots into what drives these athletes. [more]
February 18, 2011
Technology's role in your training
Guest post by Scott Jones, Head Coach of Boulder-based IMJ Coaching and 2010 Ironman Canada age group champion:
I have had some fantastic conversations with a few of my athletes on the role of heart rate meters (HRMs), power meters, pacing, and perceived exertion. In one of these conversations, the question was basically, “Darn it, Scott—why won’t you just give me a number on my heart rate, a number on my power meter and I will race on that number.”
Wow, if only racing were that easy. If that really worked, and was the most effective way to secure my absolute best effort, I would be on that program for sure.
The bad news, in my opinion, is it just isn’t that simple. Heart rate monitors, GPS devices and power meters all absolutely have their place in our sport. They are data sources on performance that we can use both in our training and our racing. What they are not, are sole race guidance that we can just plug in a number and stick to that number.
First, let us talk about heart rate monitors. HRMs can be a useful and sometimes invaluable tool for our training and racing—as long as we know what we are looking at when we see those numbers. If you have properly done some of your field tests, as well as know where your lactate threshold truly lies in terms of heart rate for both the bike and the run, the HRM can provide very useful feedback to your current effort.
What one has to remember is that there are a lot of things that factor into heart rate: heat, fatigue, hydration/dehydration and taper all have a vital role in what your heart rate monitor is reporting back to you. This data taken in concert with pace, watts or, most importantly, perceived exertion can be absolutely invaluable information for you to know how things are going.
It is critical that you treat this information as one data point among a few others, rather than the sole determinant of where you are in your effort, be it in training, or most importantly, in a race.
Bottom line: heart rate is a data point, not gospel.
So let us now talk about GPS devices. As far as tools for training and racing go, I would classify the Garmin, or other GPS devices, as a key piece of equipment for me on the run. Knowing my pacing guidelines based on recent prior races or field tests is crucial. I say again, on recent races or field tests.
For me to go out and use pacing guidance based on the data I have from last year’s training would not be as useful. Last year was last year. We need to make sure we link our data to what we are capable of now. If you are coached by me, this is why you hear me say all the time as you head off to a race, bring me back some data!
So how do you use this pacing guidance from your GPS device in a race? You know where you should be on race day. In your training you know what pace you have been able to own. To go out and race at a pace that is nowhere near that will certainly raise issues for you during the day. Using your pace guidelines along with heart rate and perceived exertion (how you feel) is the key to the castle.
Again, bottom line: pace is a data point, not gospel.
Power meters. Ah, power meters. Get talking about power meters on the bike and some dudes start to salivate. They love them that much—especially those types of cats who love logarithms, the backside of cable boxes and stereos, or any other contraption that takes hours to program and tweak. I dismissed power meters for years as a tool for the pocket-protector types out there, but have become a believer.
A properly calibrated power meter on your bike, alongside really good training and field test data—all together now: recent field test data—can be a little like cheating in some race scenarios. In 2005, I was riding along with a buddy of mine a week or so before Kona when he looked at me and said “Jonser, save it for race day, bro!”
I had no idea what he was talking about. He told me I was going way too hard. I said, "How can that be?" My heart rate was hovering around 116 beats per minute. He told me that I was driving in excess of 260 watts. I was well rested on fresh, tapered legs and had no idea I was pushing that hard because I was so used to training tired. That is the magic of a power meter. It can save you from doing really stupid things.
Here is the catch: it can also prevent you from going at a rate you are truly capable of if you are driving solely by the numbers. One of my favorite athletes, Shawn, used to always drive around in races at 180-190 watts and would have bike splits that, while respectable, were not truly to the level of which he was capable.
Getting him to race the race a little more, instead of just hawking watts, helped him to see he was stronger than he thought. He then started seeing watts well into the 200s during his bike splits.
So the bottom line with power meters: superb data points if used correctly, but not gospel!
There it is folks: we have some wonderful tools out there that can really help us hold ourselves accountable, but just watching numbers is not racing. You should absolutely use those tools in your training and racing, but, when racing, there is still no substitute for sticking your chin in your chest and going for it.
We use data points from the tools we talked about to keep ourselves in check and to prevent us from doing something that would shipwreck our effort. Numbers will always be useful, but using those in concert with how we are feeling on race day and listening to our body will be the determinant for the kind of result we are able to achieve.
Train with joy or not at all!
Jonser
Head Coach, IMJ Coaching
February 15, 2011
Powered From Within in Top 4 Kindle tri books
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| Click on the image to see a larger version |
February 08, 2011
Writer's Digest International Book Awards
Last year I submitted my books for the 18th Annual Writer's Digest International Self-Published Books Awards. Here's what the (anonymous) judges had to say:
For Running Shoes Are a Girl's Best Friend: "The best part of the ... book is the passion (the author) had in writing these stories. She has taken her own life experiences, placed them in a book and guides the reader through with stories that have touched her life. It is the author's desire to help readers develop a positive mental attitude needed to exercise."
"The book is filled with other individual stories and insight to draw the reader into taking better care of their body. Some of the stories will help the reader to find the courage and strength to overcome adversity in their daily life."
On Powered From Within: Stories About Running & Triathlon: "I love to read books about running - in fact, I just finished Haruki Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, which I recommend - and this one was no exception."
"The author's style is breezy and accessible, what you'd expect from a veteran journalist, and running enthusiasts at all levels no doubt will find much motivation in these stories."
"The book's front cover is well designed and eye-catching ..."
On A Work in Progress: Exercises in Writing, the judge said:
"First, off I'd like to say it was a pleasure to read two entries by Dietz this year. It may seem obvious but as a reviewer, having multiple works by a single author to compare and contrast makes for interesting work. It also opens tunnels of insight that may be helpful to both parties involved.
"By way of comparison, then, I believe A Work in Progress is the stronger of the two pieces. Its crossover appeal alone—existing as a book about both writing and running (here I should again invoke [Haruki] Murakami [What I Talk About When I Talk About Running]—enlarges its potential audience and affords the author a chance to explore her own process, a chance I feel is pretty significant.
"She does a great job of it, too, at times overtly and other times almost subversively. The format of this one, textually and physically, also rises above the other. It's material I can consult linearly or, more delightfully, in single scoops, and it fits in my pocket so I can carry it to a favorite reflection spot."
Find my books on Amazon
For Running Shoes Are a Girl's Best Friend: "The best part of the ... book is the passion (the author) had in writing these stories. She has taken her own life experiences, placed them in a book and guides the reader through with stories that have touched her life. It is the author's desire to help readers develop a positive mental attitude needed to exercise."
"The book is filled with other individual stories and insight to draw the reader into taking better care of their body. Some of the stories will help the reader to find the courage and strength to overcome adversity in their daily life."
On Powered From Within: Stories About Running & Triathlon: "I love to read books about running - in fact, I just finished Haruki Murakami's What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, which I recommend - and this one was no exception."
"The author's style is breezy and accessible, what you'd expect from a veteran journalist, and running enthusiasts at all levels no doubt will find much motivation in these stories."
"The book's front cover is well designed and eye-catching ..."
On A Work in Progress: Exercises in Writing, the judge said:
"First, off I'd like to say it was a pleasure to read two entries by Dietz this year. It may seem obvious but as a reviewer, having multiple works by a single author to compare and contrast makes for interesting work. It also opens tunnels of insight that may be helpful to both parties involved.
"By way of comparison, then, I believe A Work in Progress is the stronger of the two pieces. Its crossover appeal alone—existing as a book about both writing and running (here I should again invoke [Haruki] Murakami [What I Talk About When I Talk About Running]—enlarges its potential audience and affords the author a chance to explore her own process, a chance I feel is pretty significant.
"She does a great job of it, too, at times overtly and other times almost subversively. The format of this one, textually and physically, also rises above the other. It's material I can consult linearly or, more delightfully, in single scoops, and it fits in my pocket so I can carry it to a favorite reflection spot."
Find my books on Amazon
January 03, 2011
Triathlon team making a difference - Triathlon Magazine Canada
Check out the latest Triathlon Magazine Canada article by Tim, it's a very inspiring read!
"Terry Gardner looked in the mirror and saw nothing. His sight was gone. The life he had known for 46 years was over. He suddenly felt lost. "I went four years not only trying to deal with vision loss but I was looking for something to give my life purpose," Gardner says. After having worked 12 to 14 hectic hours a day as a self-employed courier broker, he found himself at home doing nothing. Then Gardner got a call from Jan Ditchfield. Ditchfield asked Gardner, then 50, to compete at Joe's Team Triathlon in Muskoka, Ontario..."
Read more on the Triathlon Magazine Canada website or in the brandnew Jan/Feb issue.
"Terry Gardner looked in the mirror and saw nothing. His sight was gone. The life he had known for 46 years was over. He suddenly felt lost. "I went four years not only trying to deal with vision loss but I was looking for something to give my life purpose," Gardner says. After having worked 12 to 14 hectic hours a day as a self-employed courier broker, he found himself at home doing nothing. Then Gardner got a call from Jan Ditchfield. Ditchfield asked Gardner, then 50, to compete at Joe's Team Triathlon in Muskoka, Ontario..."
Read more on the Triathlon Magazine Canada website or in the brandnew Jan/Feb issue.
December 03, 2010
Triathlon training programs
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