Anticipation

My first race of the season (tentative?) is only 5 weeks away and my 'A' race is 10 weeks away. That's a few more build cycles, maybe a few recovery weeks, and a little taper.  Anticipation is starting to build.

About 2 months ago I was "ahead of the curve"; my strength was further along than in years past and I was building quick.  Training isn't always a smooth journey...   a few weeks of being sick, a few weeks of sitting on a spin bike instead of my TT bike, blah, wah, wah.  Long-story-short, I'm back and track and ready for some focus.   But really, this isn't the point of the story.

At this point in the season, I start to anticipate what it will have in store.  This year in particular, my anticipation is broader than just the sport.  I'm anticipating what it will be like to travel without family if/when I race in Utah.  I'm anticipating being on a 10 hr flight to Zurich with a toddler and his "terrible twos".  I'm anticipating balancing the excitement of being on Team Canada with the need not to totally monopolize a family vacation with "me time".

I'm also letting it be known that after this season, competitive Triathlon will not likely be in the cards for a while.  I will be a recreational Triathlete once again, although a serious one  ;-).   I'm really trying to anticipate what that will mean for me.  It's something I'm having trouble picturing.

All these things put an interesting twist on the weeks ahead.  Last year I was focussed on achievement...  putting the most I can into the experience.  This year, I think I'm more focussed on getting everything I can out of it.

Being happy with "Real-Life"

It happens to all us amateur athletes, but I think it can tend to be more complicated with those of us with a family and a very involving career: There are times when "real-life" has to take priority over the "fantasy life" of training as an elite athlete.

Now don't get me wrong. Elite athletes are not living a fantasy life. But there are those of us who would LOVE to be an elite athlete, but are restricted by the time required to achieve performance at that level (and talent in my case).

At the moment, my professional life (i.e. the part of my life paying the bills) is experiencing a welcome flare-up in work complexity, volume, importance, responsibility, and urgency. It tends to settle back into something predictable, but for now, I'm swamped. And to be honest, I'm really enjoying it. I also have a 22-month old son, a wife who has a time-consuming career in law, two dogs, a nanny, a house, and a mortgage. Not atypical. What is atypical is that I still have that nattering urge to become the best athlete I can be.

Most of my posts are about how I try to be successful in athletics while tending to my "real-life". This post is a bit different: How to be successful in "real-life" while tending to my athletics:

Rule 1: Find your balance.
Rule 2: You can miss a workout or a race for a good reason, but really make sure it's a good reason and not just an excuse. It's ok if that's for several days/weeks/months straight. But really be honest and strive for Rule 1.
Rule 3: Prioritize your current best opportunity for the success you want, at any given time. This means that if your opportunities are at work, with your family, your friends, or with your sport, be sure to chase the most promising one with the best potential. If you let a great opportunity pass you by, it may not come by again. But remember Rule 1.
Rule 4: To set yourself up to take advantage of opportunities aligned to your definition of success, do what's required to keep those opportunities open and tend to all of them. Do not let them slide.
Rule 5: Be honest with the people in your life about where you want to focus. Transparency means you can gain fans not foes.

So following these rules, since November I have prioritized work over family and training, keeping an eye on Rule 1 and 4. I have had a rare opportunity to push my career forward very significantly very quickly. If I had prioritized training, I would have missed this chance. But following Rule 4 means I have found time for family and found time to maintain my fitness base. I also cut calories immediately and made the switch to early nights and mornings to get important workouts done.

The result: My career is on a steep rise. My little family is having a ton of fun together. My fitness is way ahead of last year at this time and only 10% off my peak from last year. If I looked at my decisions as investments, I'd say I have a healthy portfolio.

I won't lie though. I would really like to have been far ahead of my fitness from last year already. I know that if this was my best opportunity for life success, I would have focused here. And it really was a big opportunity. But my biggest opportunity from Nov to now has been at work. In fact it's let me afford converting my garage to my pain cave for efficient training. Win-win.

So for those in the same boat, give yourself a break and remember the rules. If you have more rules, please comment on this post.

Craig Alexander

If you saw my last post, you know I'm a fan.  Here's why.
http://triathlon.competitor.com/2012/10/features/video-craig-alexander-reflects-on-kona-2012-and-looks-ahead_64576

Simon says...

Two people I admire most in Triathlon are Simon Whitfield and Craig Alexander.  It's obvious why I admire them as athletes:  they are both champions and their prowess has endured.  Still, there are a lot of great Triathletes to admire.

The main reason Simon and Craig are at the top of my heap is because they are both family men and have still been able to be successful.  In fact, you could argue that they became MORE successful in their sport after they became fathers.  I admire this for a few reasons.  First, their family is their #1 priority and the sport is #2.  Second, they make the time to be good fathers.  Third, they recognize that their family is part of their team, that it is not possible to do what they do without that level of support.  Fourth, they have found a way to become the best while still being around.

Like most Canadians, my heart sank when Simon crashed out of the race.  Canada would not see him get a medal this time out, nor likely ever again.  But what really broke my heart is his account of what happened when he finally got to his family after the race.  His daughter was crying, his wife was obviously heart broken for him.  He said how choked he was that his family sacrificed so much by letting him travel and get ready for the games, staying home while he pursued his dream/career.  All that hard work by everyone else, for nothing.  That hit home for me.

I was having the race of my life when I crashed my bike a month ago.  Like Simon, I got out of the water where I wanted.  Like Simon, I got onto the bike as planned.  Like Simon, I went down.  Fortunately I wasn't hurt as bad as him and I went on to finish.  Still, I was completely crushed that I didn't get my World Championship spot.

These past several weeks, I've been somewhat unmotivated to train hard.  In the first weeks after the crash, it was because although I could push hard, my body was pretty hurt.  Now, it hurts less when I push, but I'm still paying for it afterwards...  bruises and strains take longer to heal when you're older.  Still, until watching the Olympics, I couldn't really put my finger on my lack of motivation.  After Simon's account of his day, it became clear.

Jen, Eli, Jen's parents, and my parents have given me a tremendous amount of support and sacrifice since I declared I was getting back into serious racing.  Sometimes reluctant support, but never waining.    When Simon intimated that he felt like his family's sacrifice was for nothing, and that he felt like he had let them down and devalued their support, I knew exactly what he meant.

Therein lies my own lack of motivation.  Do I really to spend more good will from my family to continue to try and pursue this goal of competing at an international level in Triathlon?  What if it happens again, what if I don't achieve my goals?  Then again their sacrifice will mean nothing.

I'm not sure what the answer is, here.  There is an event horizon I'm working towards:  ITU 2013 Long Course World Championships.  I'm already on the team.  I've told myself that I could do nothing and still race.  This, of course, would be unacceptable.

For now, I'm going to continue to train, fight through my lack of motivation, and try and reconnect with my love of the sport.  But like Simon and Craig do so well, I will ensure that my family is #1 and the sport is #2.

Wounded

Let me just cut to the chase and mention that I crashed my bike at Ironman 70.3 Lake Stevens.  This is my first crash in training or racing since starting the sport.

Around mile 30 and after the toughest climb and steepest descent, I laid the bike down on a dusty 90 degree corner made slick by the rain.  I scrubbed all the speed I thought was required and as I was entering the turn, I found myself on the ground; it was that instantaneous.  I'm pretty sure I yelled as I was falling and hit the pavement.  I got up and the traffic officer asked if I was ok and was I going to continue.  If so, I needed to head to the nearest medical tent, get cleaned up, and checked out.  I obliged.  The tent was nearby.  I got rinsed a bit and was asked lots of cognitive questions.  They checked my helmet (it didn't hit the ground apparently) and I was on my way.

I was wounded pretty badly, though I didn't know how bad until later.  My bike was wounded...  this I knew for certain.  My front derailleur shifter had broken off, leaving me in the big ring.  My rear derailleur was bent in and I couldn't shift to the top of the cassette without the derailleur hitting the spokes.  If I was to finish, it would be me and my bike finishing wounded.

I could handle the descents ok, though in pain due to some major forearm bruising and bleeding, but the ascents were tough.  I was zigzagging up the hills sometimes as low as 35 rpm.  I chastised myself most of the way, telling myself I need to make back up the ground I lost and find a way to get to the run.  It was all heart, good nutrition, and some good fitness that took me to the line.  I got into T2 with a 2:49:50 bike split.

-----

Prior to the race, I was settling into a state I can now call "ready".  I was pretty mellow.  Getting ready, I was less crazy and more purposeful.  I let myself chill, didn't stress, incorporated some quality time with Eli and my Dad by going to the race site together, and relaxed in the evenings with Jen.  I trusted I could make the race happen.  As the clock ticked closer to the start, I had fewer and fewer things to worry about.  After all, there's fewer things you can affect as you get closer to a big race.  I slept well on race night, getting a rock solid 5 hrs of sleep on top of 9 hrs the night before and a restful day.  Like I said, I was "ready".

Even the weather couldn't get me down (yet) on race morning.  I did my routine, got my food in, etc.  Everything was falling into place.

The swim was good.  I swam well but kept running into people from earlier heats.  That's both a good and bad sign when you're running people over.  Other than ending up underneath a course marker (scary) everything went to plan in the water and exited under 33 minutes.

The first 10km on the bike were rough, but I settled into my rhythm, knocking out my splits and was well on my way to sub 2:35 on the bike, which was my goal considering the wet weather and chilly temps.

Then the crash.  Then the salvaging.

I got on the run in pain.  My hip was angry.  Like the biggest red bird from Angry Birds.  Yup, that angry and that big.  I still wanted to do well.  I still wanted a qualifying spot.  I thought that if I could run down as many people as I could, I might still have a shot.  Wouldn't that be a triumph!  I kept picking people off during the run.  I hit the last 2km with everything I had left.  I got the run done, even with 3 stops at first aid to flush the wounds, in 1:42.

5:09 and change, 18th in the 35-39 age group.  In other years, it could/would have made Vegas.  Today it didn't.  Lake Stevens reduced their spots from 50 to 30.  The two spots for my group went to first and second.  No roll down.

All I got to take home was a sprained and scraped left thumb, sprained and scraped right pinky, scraped and bruised right shoulder, forearm (with a bunch of gravel under the skin), hip, knee, and ankle.  I haven't yet fully inspected my bike, but damage seems to be limited to the derailleur and shifter.

So what now?  I'd struggle to be ready for the other two qualifiers that are proximate (Calgary and Boulder).  And even if I healed, could I get on the podium and get that Vegas spot?  Not too sure.

One thing is for sure:  I'm feeling a bit wounded physically and mentally.

When do you know you're "ready"?

Many friends who know that I'm about to race an important race next weekend at the Ironman 70.3 Lake Stevens.  A race that I've worked for and that may or may not qualify me for a repeat appearance at the Ironman 70.3 World Championships.  These friends have all been asking, "Geez you're looking fit.  Are you ready?".  My reply has been, "Honestly?  I really don't know."  The truth is, I'm not sure what 'ready' actually feels like.  Probably because I can't say I've had a race where I've truly felt 'on' and able to access all my fitness; something has always seemed to go awry on race day.

So I'm putting this out there:  What does 'ready' feel like?

I'm hoping I'm feeling it by the time I hit the start line next Sunday.  So far, I've entered the familiar stages of "taper crazies" a.k.a. the Stages Of The Pre-Race Taper:

1) I could be doing more: The feeling that maybe you should skip the stretching/yoga recovery session after a monster training week, in favour of a brick session of hill repeats on the bike and then on a run. After all, there's 6 more days until race day.  You log on to TrainingPeaks.com and review your current stats and upcoming schedule.

2) I'm completely exhausted and I can't imagine I'm going to be recovered by race day:  Every muscle in your body is sore and or tired and all you want to do is nap all day and then go to bed.  Meanwhile, there are still 'recovery workouts' and short-duration high-intensity sessions on the schedule.  You log on to TrainingPeaks.com and review your stats just before you pass out in the living room.

3) I should have done more:  You get through Stage 2 and miraculously you're starting to feel great.  So great, in fact, that the normal dull nagging feeling that you should be 'doing more' turns into a confidence-challenging voice that's mocking "see, I told you to do more".  I hate that voice.  You log on to TrainingPeaks.com and review your stats, hoping to find workouts where inaccurately reported your time/effort.

4) Stages 1 to 3 combined:  This is the dark phase.  Try not to harm yourself or other people during this time.  You start to log onto TrainingPeaks.com, but then break down and cry.

5) Race day preparation:  This is more of a coping mechanism than a stage.  Basically, you pack your stuff in order to put your "Type A" personality at ease by controlling something, in this case its making sure that at least all your stuff is ready, even if you're not.  Try to do this without anyone else around, because it's annoying to see you bounce around the house muttering to yourself.  No time for TrainingPeaks.com.  Logging on may force a regression back to Stage 4.

6) Acceptance:  That stage where you lie to yourself a bit and say "I've done what I can do, the day is going to be whatever it's going to be, and I'm just going to do my best and have fun".  Listen to this lie.  Believe this lie.  Think fondly of your breakthrough workouts.  Stay away from TrainingPeaks.

7) Excitement (i.e. "Ready?):   You allow yourself to believe that today could be a good day.  It could be your best day.  After all, you trusted the process, put the work in, have many more 'completed' workouts than 'dropped', and have heard "Geez, you're looking fit.  Are you ready?" at least a few times in the past 2 weeks.  You stop letting TrainingPeaks.com judge you.

So far, I've never made it passed Stage 6.  I've peaked over at Stage 7 once or twice, but never fully arrived.

So, is Stage 7 "ready"?  Am I ready?  Who knows?  Ask me next Monday.

Being a "Good Sport"

This weekend I did a different kind of "endurance event".  I had not been out with my good friend to go listen to good underground music in a long time.  There was a very great artist in town this weekend and I knew I'd have to go.  Problem is that I had the Scotia Half-Marathon on the card for the next morning.  It wasn't an important race from an achievement point of view (it was a tune-up for Ironman 70.3 Lake Stevens in 3 weeks) so I decided I'd make it work.

Lots of friends came up to my while I was out asking "are you sure you're going to run tomorrow"?  "Yup!", I'd say, "But it's going to be water only tonight".  At 3:00am as I was leaving, I got some high-fives and well wishes and I headed home.  My ears still ringing, I didn't really sleep and nearly dropped out of the race. 

7:00 rolled around and I decided it was game-on!  A mad dash to the start of the race at UBC.  I got there nearly 5 minutes after the gun went and I had to start from nearly the back of pack.  Still, I ran the best race I could and even pushed some good finishing pace for the last 5km.  Result:  1:36:22.  Not bad and not great, but as expected.

The special moment came as I was walking to go catch the bus home.  Lots of runners were still coming in (it was around the 2 hr mark in the race) and some little kids were cheering with their Dad for all the racers.  To them, they were having fun watching these athletes work their hardest to finish the last bit of racing...  they didn't care that they were the first or the last of the runners.  I went up to the kids and said "Hi, I heard you cheering when I was running by; it really helped me finish!  I think you deserve this!".  I handed them my finisher medal.  They looked at me like I was Superman and had just given them my 'S'.  Their Dad thanked me profusely and kept asking if I was sure I wanted to do that.  "It's my pleasure", I said.  The kids just held the medal and studied it, smiling ear to ear.  I bet they stayed for as long as they could to cheer the other runners.

I knew on Saturday that I was not going to run the race of my life.  My friends out with me on Saturday probably thought I was crazy, but committed.  Maybe these kids on Sunday are inspired to become athletes themselves.  I know that I'm inspired to share my love of athletics.  It's important to me to be a "good sport".