The big day

Triathlon. 
All week, I have been glued to the weather to see what the conditions would be like on Saturday. The forecast started off as cold and rainy and by the Friday it had turned to dry and around 22 degrees. So perfect conditions for the triathlon. I went to pick up my kit on Friday evening and to the information session. There were so many people there. I was just cranking up my nerves  even further. The yellow buoy for the 1500m seemed to be really far away. I have no problem swimming 1500m in a pool, but to lay out 750m out and back looked really daunting.

The yellow buoy, way back there is half the Olympic distance swim. Note the calmness of the water.

On my way out, I ran into a swimming mate of mine whose name I didn’t know. He was running a Sprint, his first and so was his friend. We were all taking the Metro back home together and we distracted each other nicely. I got home much later than I wanted closer to 8:30 and only then had supper – pasta, naturally. I don’t normally eat so many carbs and over the past few days I have been eating almost nothing but.

I couldn’t sleep, either because of nerves or the dark chocolate I ate, until well past 2:30 am.

I woke up in the morning and it was grey, but not too bad. I headed off alone with the car strapped to the roof rack just before 10am and made my way to the track. George and the boys were coming later by Metro. I was incredibly nervous. I don’t know why. I could do this distance, no problem. My goal was to finish strong in under 3 hours. Very doable. I guess that because I had been training alone, I just didn’t have external validation of my training. No one was there to push me to go faster. I just pushed myself to get it finished. Slow and steady. Now at the site – there were so many people – The set up was much different than in 1998, and a bigger too. Now there was a bridge leading out of the water. Huh? Oh boy. I went to get marked, #682 – my lucky number! (Not particularly, but I’ll take anything at this point that helps!)

and then went to set up my transition at the racks. I picked a spot and set up. Towel and shoes, bathing cap and goggle, tons of Lara Bars and then I wandered around. 

My little world.

I watched wave after wave of the other events. The water was very choppy and the wind was absolutely ferocious. Oh no! I hadn’t planned for that. I planned for cold and rain, not dry and windy! Back to check on my spot and then I grabbed a Larabar to snack on before the race and watched the Sprints coming out of the water. It was fun to watch them all coming out of the water, go up and over the wooden foot bridge and then into the Transition area. Some were very serious, others looked exhausted, some exhilarated and there were even a few who stopped to chat and have their pictures taken. 
Now it was almost my turn – Olympic women were all going in one wave. A final trip back to the transition area to get my goggles and cap and I headed to the last minute technical session, 15 minutes before race time. The wind was very gusty at this point and there were even whitecaps. Yikes! We all stood in the water for 10 minutes – not too cold, a good sign. Then I heard some yelling behind me and turned to see my husband, kids, sister in law and friend jammed up against the barriers trying to get my attention. 

That's me in the pink bathing cap. Those heads bobbing in the water are scuba divers. Note the whitecaps. 

I was so happy to see them! Such a boost. The horn went off and I started swimming towards the inside of the pack. As soon as I hit the water, I knew there was going to be trouble – my goggles weren’t sealed properly and filling my right eye with water and the current was incredibly strong. It seemed as though every stroke was not moving me forward but holding my position. Holy. For some reason, it wasn’t a chaotic a start as normal. Maybe the current and waves had taken the fight out of people. I was just in it to get to the end. I tried breathing on every stroke but because of the waves, I got a mouth full of water nearly every time. So I took advantage of having to clear out my goggles while kicking on my back to get some air into my lungs. I finally got my goggles to seal and put my head down and swam. There is a very large screen to the left side of the basin and it seemed like I couldn’t get beyond it. Everytime I looked left, it was still there. I felt like I wasn’t making any progress at all. There weren’t too many swimmers around, only a few left and right and the occasional bubbles from in front of me. Up and down with the waves and fighting the current at every stroke. This was really hard. I looked up and saw the yellow buoy just ahead of me and made my way toward it. I got caught in its rope as I turned the corner and immediately the swim got easier. I past two more buoys and then another turn down the long stretch back. Then I was going with the current and the wind and the swim was effortless, except for the up and down. I was swimming right beside another woman and it seemed that whenever one of us would veer away, the other would come follow suit. We were evenly matched, stroke for stroke and every time I breathed on my right, I saw her breathe left. On my left, I watched the grandstands come into view and then the building. I knew the finish would be at the end of the buildings. On my right I saw more boats and the pier and then I saw the end of the building. Suddenly, my hand hit the bottom and I was finished. I stood up with only two steps to get out of the water. What a grueling swim! I have never has such a difficult swim. Interstingly, I never wanted to quit, like I did in Ste Agathe, I was determined to get through it with everyone else. I ran out, took of my bathing cap and goggles, up and down the stairs. 


I focused on the yellowness of the stairs and the fact that the steps had sand painted to them I don’t know why, but seemed very important at the time. I glanced at my watch 29 minutes. Wow – not bad for such a difficult swim. At the bottom, I saw my husband right there!

I ran to the transition, put on my shoes and race bib and ran Bambi like to the start of the bike. Into the wind. Oh the wind! I pedaled furiously to get my legs going and once on the circuit was happy with my pace going into the wind initially. At the westernmost point of the track, there is a slight downhill, a sharp left turn and then the wind is at your back. Wow what a difference – I was cranking out 38-40 kph with the wind! Very happy with this, until, of course, everyone else was passing me like I was on a tricycle. I made it to the hairpin without any Olympic Women passing me – so far I hadn’t lost anytime. Around the hairpin and then slammed into the wind again. I was struggling to keep my pace at 24 kph, which, considering this is my usual fast pace, I was pretty happy to keep up. 

The track was very full with mostly the Ironmen and half Ironmen, then slowly it started filling up with Olympic distance women and then the men, who started 30 minutes after us. My distance was 9 loops of the circuit and I started counting, but then after 3 laps relied on my odometer. I ate a Larabar and chatted with a few cyclists, too. After a few turns, I saw my cheering section at the hairpin – waving and calling and cheering! It was such a boost – I was so happy to see them! 

Around and around some more. The westbound loop was grueling – the wind was really fierce and everyone was struggling. My right shoe wasn’t aligned properly so the Velcro kept getting caught on the crank on loosening, so I kept adjusting. After a while, my crew wasn’t there anymore – I figured the kids were getting restless, although I kept looking for them. At the far end with a few laps to go, I heard someone call out my name – I looked on the grass and there was my favorite trainer and his dog sitting there! How he spotted me, I will never know, but it was so great to see him there. The volunteers keeping people off the track and helping people cross when needed were hilarious – they must have been so bored. Some were fixated on their phones, others were swinging on the chains and cheering and a couple even had little routines – they were great! With a half lap to go, I tried to tell my trainer that I was getting off the track and then did a final lap. I exited the track and biked to the transition point. 

Only at the line did I realize that I forgot to take off my shoes like I practiced. Now I was forced to run downhill in my cycling shoes. Yikes. Not graceful at all! I was just focusing on not slipping and falling. As I was running in, I saw my husband again – he was always at the right place – I have no idea how he managed to time it. I spotted my red and white towel at my rack and put on my shoes, took a glug of Gatorade and ran off. Glancing at my watch, it took 1:30 – which is about 10 minutes faster than I normally do a 40k.

My legs felt surprisingly coordinated- springy, even. I ran behind the building and then down the seaway path. It was very strange running. There was no one ahead of me and no one behind me. Only the sound of the wind and the crunch crunch of my shoes on the gravel. It was very soothing. Occasionally, someone would pass me, but I wasn’t losing much ground. It was nice to have the relative quiet after the noisy wind on the bike, it made it seem that much more harrowing. I passed one or two women, took a drink from the water station and picked up my speed a bit. At the end of the first 2.5 km, I kept hearing the person behind me opening something Velcro. Curious, I asked her what she was doing – it turns out her water belt was riding up and she kept having to pull it down. How annoying that must have been. I would have just thrown it away. But I was happy to have passed someone! At the far end of the basin, I could see the crowds in the grandstand and just how far away the finish line was – one and a half time around. It looks so much farther when the distance is laid out like that. I tried to keep my mind on picking up my speed, all the while trying to gauge how much energy I had left. As I came onto the basin, an Olympic woman was coming around onto the last leg of the run. Holy cow – I had 7.5 left and she was almost done. Yikes. Obviously, I picked up my speed. The crowd thickened along the grandstand and as I got to the end, I saw my gang again as they cheered and clapped for me. Such a huge boost! Then at the turn back on to the track, my husband was telling me that I was going really fast – well on pace! 

So I picked up my speed. I went to the back stretch and tried to keep my pace up at best I could. At no time did I feel like I had to dig deep and convince myself that I could finish. I knew that I could. I don’t know why, but at triathlons they mark your age on your legs, so it’s visible from behind. Is this so that you can see your direct competitors or what? I have never been able to figure this out. I put a few women in my sights to try to run down and managed to pass a few of them. There was one, #990, who was a few hundred meters ahead of me, but lagging. I decided that she was my goal, so I kept her in my sights. I was gaining on her for a while and then her teammate, who had just passed me, ran up beside her and got her pace up and I just couldn’t keep up. She ended up being only 2 minutes faster than me in the end (I checked!).

I rounded the last corner and ran as fast as I could all the way to the finish. It was so crowded along the side and it seemed that everyone was sprinting to the end, maybe it was also the wind at our backs. It was so great to run with everyone – there is such great energy – everyone is cheering and clapping and with huge smiles – competitors and spectators both. I crossed the line in 2:58 and change – and I just ran my fastest 10k. I felt so great! After all the nerves I had before, this was such a great feeling. After all these months of those long rides and run and the hours alone, this was spectacular.

Just finished! 2:58

My crew came down, the kids were exhausted and the younger one was absolutely done without his nap. I was thrilled to see them and hear about it from their perspective. They were such troopers for staying there for 3 hours in that crazy wind. I went back to the transition packed up my stuff - I ran into a few of the girls that I chatted with before the race and we compared notes - horrible swim, tough bike, great run. They were also thrilled with their races. There is such a camaraderie between the athletes - no competition or viciousness. It is so nice, very encouraging. It's one part of the competition that I really like. 

We walked all the way back to the car. That’s when I realized that I was tired! My knees were tired and my ankles felt different than usual. We got home just as a torrential rainstorm thoroughly soaked us as we unloaded the car. I quickly got cleaned up and got ready to welcome the 20 people my husband invited to share in my steak and fries supper!

Thanks guys!

Two days to go...

My race is Saturday at noon and I am ridiculously nervous. I’m checking the weather all the time, hoping that it will both warm up so that I’m not the only one – again – not wearing a wetsuit and that the thunderstorms pass. Running in squishy shoes isn’t great. I have laid out all my stuff, trying to make sure that I don’t forget anything crucial, like bike shoes or helmet or bike. I need to remember all my energy bars, and waters, too. And also a tarp of some sort to keep my things dry. I am not happy with my cycling shoes in that they are new and I haven’t raced with them yet – more for the transition than the actual cycling part. They are really hard to run in and while I have done a few tries of running barefoot with my bike with my shoes already clipped in to speed up the transition, I’m still undecided as to whether I should actually try it out at the race or just hobble along on the slippery biking shoes. I have one last bike session tomorrow and maybe that’s when I will finally decide. Or maybe not.

With it being cool, it will be easy to not want to hydrate adequately and that could be bad. Although, the last time I ran this, I don’t remember having any energy bars with me. I do however remember that the swim was so cold, that I couldn’t feel my pinkies after, I put on long sleeves for the bike and that it took more than half the bike leg to warm up again. So this weekend’s weather is bothersome.

I am also trying to eat wisely, without changing too much. My big concern is that the race starts at noon – and I generally work out before 8am, so the food as energy timing is going to be a bit off, plus the usual jitters aren’t going to calm my stomach at all. I think if I just have the usual pre workout breakfast, but maybe a bit later and then munch on complex carbs and water throughout the morning I should be ok. It’s also only about a 3hour event, so I’m probably overthinking for nothing. I hope.

I have decided to go to the track by myself and my husband and kids (my own personal cheering section) will follow later. I want to be there a bit early and they will be doing lots of waiting around as it is. There is also an information session tomorrow night, so I will better be able to get my bearings and find out where to park and what time to come at.

So many things to worry about…

a few new things

A few new things since I ran the triathlon last week. I bought myself a fancy triathlon unitard and cycling shoes and clips. I’m still not entirely comfortable in the shoes as I feel really stuck in them, and what with drivers the way they are here in Montreal, I feel like even more of a target. I also haven’t practiced getting into them on the fly either. I really should figure out how to do that before race day. It’s really awkward walking in them, since you have to put all your weight on your heels, because where your toes and ball of feet would hit the pavement are slippery plastic in the shoes, so no grip, and I feel like Bambi on ice.  Found a video on Youtube how to fasten the shoes to the bike with elastics to keep them upright and will try to practice getting on and off the bike like that. I’ll be doing that in a very secluded and soft area, as I’m sure I am going to go for a few spills. I also took my bike for a sort of tune up, and the wonderful bike techie at MacWhinnies didn’t disagree that perhaps I should get new tires. I have had this set since I bought the bike way back when, and I have been thinking that it’s about time for them to go, somewhere in the next few hundred kilometers or so.

I also rented a wetsuit for the race that I’m hoping I wont have to wear. I’ve never worn one swimming before and I really don’t want to start now, nor do I want to practice getting out of it while wet. But I suppose I should – one less thing to worry about for the race.

I have a huge week coming up – 60k bike rides, 3km swims and 16km runs and then I taper for the two weeks after that. Then, gulp, it’s race day.

Happily, though, I have a great new 60 minute hill run that I have also been using for 10 km run – from home up to Cote des Neiges and then around the mountain to Beaver Lake and then home. It might not be 10 km officially, but it’s such a great downhill all the way home that I feel like a gazelle.

I’m starting to panic a bit about the actual race. I don’t have any one to tell me that the training I am doing is adequate, nor is there anyone else out there telling me that I will be fine (that I fully believe or trust).

The race starts at noon for the women, which for me is a horrible time. I’m an early morning exerciser and eater, so I’m going to have to figure out how to eat enough so that I have enough energy for most of the race, without having to eat differently than I have been. Plus, what on earth am I going to do all morning besides panic? Any and all suggestions are welcome.

First tri - I'm back!

After 8 years and 2 kids, I ran my first triathlon. My ultimate goal this season is the Montreal Esprit Olympic distance triathlon in September, but I found the one in Ste-Agathe on August 5^th would be a good trial run. It is a 1k swim, 27k bike and 8k run, so doable in terms of where I am with my training now, but enough of a stretch so that it wouldn’t be a cake walk. I also wanted to go through the mechanics of racing again, in terms of nutrition, jitters, transition, gear and whatever else I may have forgotten.

My race started at 9:04 and we arrived around 7:20. After a quick registration and having my number – 336 – written on my arms and legs, I had another hour and a half to wait. There was a little playground on the beach where the kids were busy swinging and climbing, so hubby went off to get my bike off the car. I went into the transition zone with it and picked my spot, closer to the exit than the entrance. I watched as everyone else were setting up their gear too. Lots of people had full bins of stuff, from wetsuits to bicycle pumps, bins for rinsing feet, towels, energy bars, water bottles. You name it. The lady across from me was running her first tri ever and we chatted a bit. Lots of posturing going on. Really fun to observe. I was getting all freaked out by my lack of gear, so I went back to the playground to sip my water and be distracted.

I was tempted to just turn around and go home as it didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore to do this triathlon. My stomach was one big butterfly. Awful, really. Had I eaten enough? Did I eat too early? Did I eat properly over the previous few days? Am I hydrated enough? Do I have enough in me to finish?

It started raining so we huddled under our umbrella like everyone else. Eventually, it was time to get ready. I went back to my bike, lined up my shoes, helmet, gloves and Larabar and put on my bathing cap and goggles and back to the beach and watched the men under 39 start and then the men over 39. I was thigh deep in the water with all the other women watching the two men’s waves swimming away. 

At 9:04, the air horn went off and suddenly I was swimming. The water was murky and there was lots of jockeying for position – an elbow in the face here, someone touching your feet or leg there. The water was fresh, but by no means cold, and so I was happy that I hadn’t bothered with a wetsuit. But I was wearing a new bathing suit that hopefully didn’t have any surprises for me. I was swimming too fast and felt panicky. I really needed to find my stride. Now I’m swimming through weeds. I hate weeds. Yech. Too many people. There was some water in my goggles. I really need to settle down. I stopped to clear my goggles and reestablish my bearings and convince myself to keep going. I had forgotten how hard open water swimming is. There aren’t any lines at the bottom of lakes to follow, nor are there convenient walls to push off at every 25m or so. I focused on trying to get my breathing back to my own rhythm and breathing every third stroke and not every single stroke. I felt like I was going to hyperventilate if I kept that up. Ok – breathe, left, right, left, breathe, left, right, left. Now to find my direction. Yellow bathing caps on my left and on my right. That’s good. Hopefully they are going in the right direction. Suddenly someone swims diagonally across my line. Or did I veer off? Am I swimming diagonally? Breathe left right left breathe. Now I am coming up to the slower men, someobviously struggling and some happily doing sidestroke or breaststroke. They seemed so relaxed. Around the first buoy and it thinned out some more. Breathe left right left breathe. Finally finding my rhythm. There are rescuers lying on their paddle boards along the course. I wonder what we all look like to them? I kept looking for bubbles to follow and once I found someone to trail and perhaps pass, I did it again – bubbles, follow, pass, realign, breathe left right left breathe. Ok I can do this. Rounding the second and last buoy. Ok. This is going to be ok. I’m swimming my race now, and just maintain pace and realize that my arms are tired. My arms never get tired. What should I do? Not much to do really, but keep swimming. I won’t need my arms for anything else today. Crap, here are those weeds again. Yech. Oh, that must mean that we are closer to shore. Ok. Look up and see. Yup, there is shore another few hundred meters out. I swim until my arms can touch the bottom and I stand up and run out of the water, pulling my bathing cap and goggles off at the same time. We run through the sand and it’s raining. I hear and see my husband and kids cheering me on, and taking a picture. 

I look at my watch – 18 minutes. The run to the transition isn’t enough to get all the sand off my feet, so I wipe them as best as I can with the towel I brought. Still lots of bikes here, so I am clearly not last. I put on my running shoes, helmet and bib number belt, opt against my riding shirt with Larabar and run with my bike to the next transition and hop on my bike. 

I find the toe clips and put on my gloves as I ride out. Past the first bend by the parking lot there is a slow steady climb. I use an easy gear and pedal to get my legs to get used to this part of the race. At the top of the hill, I start sipping from my bottle. At this point, being such a useless biker, I am just copying the guy in front of me. I stay with him for a while and no one passes us for a while and when they do, it’s only a few people and they fly past. Especially those with the carbon fiber tires. You can hear them from way back as they come up behind you and then for a while as they speed off. At the top of another big hill I drink again and as we descend, I fiddle with putting my bottle back in its holder and then drop it. I turn to watch it bouncing into the culvert. Hmm. No more hydrating for me then. It has started raining even harder and the cyclist I am just about to pass (yay! I am passing someone on the bike and it’s a woman!) groans with me and we laugh, then onto another hill. I’m pretty happy with my 26-28kph and am pedaling away. I approach a huge line of cars where the police have closed the intersection for us to make a left hand turn, I thank the officer as I ride by and find myself in a pretty residential area. Another right turn and suddenly I’m on a wet wood bridge with slat going in the same direction as me. I am almost thrown from my bike, but regain balance and a huge adrenaline spike. Wow, that was scary. Back onto the highway in a few kilometers and a ridiculously long uphill. Crap. We must be about halfway because of all the riders coming back toward me. Looking at my odometer confirms it. The u-turn is ridiculously sharp, with lots of swearing as we all try to get around it without touching anyone else.

The nice things about all those uphills out, is that it makes for lots of downhills back! I’m zipping along and keeping pace with a few riders, even though I am still frustratingly being past like I’m standing still. At one huge downhill, when I have the presence of mind to peel my eyes off the road and onto the speedometer, I see 62kph. Wow, that’s really fast. Better not look. Take the speed when it’s given to you. Back into the residential part and oh no! There is a rider down at the wooden bridge. All I can see is that he is flat on his back and lots of people tending to him. That’s not good. And then suddenly I’m sliding across the wooden bridge too, but I make it across in one piece. In a few kilometers, coming off the highway I see an ambulance coming towards us. I hope the guy is ok. Now back onto the highway and it’s quick again. Suddenly I am back at the race start, get ready to get off my bike and run with it in the transition zone and I realize that my feet and shoes are soaking wet. Squish squish squish. Now I know why people wear biking shoes and not their running shoes for the bike part. I look at my watch 1:20. I put my bike back in its place, take off my helmet and gloves, grab the Larabar out of my wet shirt and start running. 

The running part starts off along the beach and then out onto the street. This is cruel for two reasons that I can think of – one – sand is going to get into my shoes and will be there for the whole run and two, my legs and I are barely speaking and now I am asking them to run on soft sand. They are far from happy. As I come off the sand I try to open my Larabar, but my hands are all slippery for some reason. Along the lake I struggle to get it open – I can’t open it with my teeth nor pull it open. I am just about to ask someone to open it for me when it opens and I take a bite. A bite that’s too big for the conflicting oxygen that I also need. So I stuff the bite of Larabar in my cheek until I can spare a gulp of oxygen for energy. There is another big uphill and then around a curve. But I don’t see a soul. Am I on the right road? Where is everyone? Then I see people running toward me. Really? Already? I can’t be that slow? Then I see more people running and I follow them. A few people pass me, but I don’t care at this point. My legs are still feeling like lead. I nurse my Larabar for a few kilometers and then take some Gatorade and water at the water stations and keep running. Squish squish squish. The guy handing out water at the 2.5k sign is standing right in front of the sign, so we all ask him to move so that we can see where we are supposed to go – the duathlon is 5k and the triathlon is an 8k run. A big difference. So we keep running. Past 3k, squish squish squish. And then the turn around and a thankful downhill. Boom, just like that, at 4k, I feel great. Ok legs, lets start lengthening the stride and picking up the pace. Squish squish squish. I’m happily plodding along for a while when at the 2.5k marker, I see this guy making the u-turn. He’s with Team Frank, whatever that is. But there are lots of them. Maybe it’s a team triathlon or duathlon. Who knows. Anyway he pulls ahead of me, but he’s struggling, but still ahead of me. So I figure I will keep him in my sights and use him as my pace bunny. We go along for a while and then suddenly he’s stopping. I’m right behind him and say “Go, go…” and he starts up again, without even looking at me. He just needed a bit of encouragement. Perfect. Then he says, “I know, 90% of the way there, right?”. “Exactly,” I say. “Don’t stop now”. So he doesn’t, and he stays beside me. We run along and then he says, “But, I’m really hurting”. “One more big hill” I say. So he runs up the hill with me and it’s a brutally long climb. At the top I say, “That’s it. Now it’s all downhill”. We finally see the lake again and I say “There’s the beach and the finish line. There’s no way you can stop now.” And he doesn’t. We run side by side until I see someone way ahead running backward and my friend waves at him. “He’s running backward?” I ask, thoroughly deflated. “It’s my brother” he says. So Brother runs up to us to encourage my friend to the finish and off they go. Just a few hundred meters left along the beach and I sprint like I never sprinted. I vaguely hear “Go Mamalama” from the bleachers. I pass a few more people and cross the line, completely spent. The marshal takes off my chip and I go in search of calories and water. I look at my watch 2:10:50. A pretty respectable 22/43 women.

I wander back to my bike and my husband and kids are soon there too. I am ecstatic and felt great! So proud of my achievement. Proud of it physically, but also being able to handle it mentally. It was hard dealing with the pre race jitters, the swim panic and mentally getting through the run. Thankfully my friend distracted me for the last few kilometers.

My eldest sons first question when he saw me was “Did you win a medal, Mama?”. The guy at the rack beside me, looked up and smiled, when I said, “No, but I had a lot of fun!”