Day 288: "Don't Get Lost!"

This morning in the pool, I was not exactly lively. I would have enjoyed chatting more with my swim-lane partner, but she was motoring. (Though I did find out that she's training for an Ironman--her second; I asked after she told me that she swims three times a week, and is bumping it up to four times starting this week; aha! That's an awful lot of training for a shorter triathlon).

It was a "goggle" morning, and I spent the first fifteen minutes fighting with my goggles. I don't know what I'll do in the middle of a lake if my goggles suddenly fill with water. It totally throws me off, and changes my breathing. The breathing is such a big part of the swimming: when it works, it's extremely rhythmic and soothing. I tried to keep my arms strong the whole time; they tend not to power through the water in quite the same way by the end. But I was so worn out near the end that I decided to count laps just to distract my mind: I went 500m in 12 minutes. Slow! But I'd like to think I'm faster at the beginning. I was really feeling slow today, and reminded myself that this swim could be like my long slow runs, the main purpose being to build endurance. I swam for an hour, so at that pace, I did 2.5km. Not bad. And who knows, maybe it was actually just a little bit further.

I biked to the pool--at last! (Not on my road bike; on a mountain bike). I also biked yesterday to run errands, pulling the kids in the stroller, and pulled them in the stroller again this morning to nursery school. Every little bit counts. Plus, for short distances, it hardly takes more time than driving. I don't like when they ask me questions, however; I'm puffing too hard to answer and have to keep reminding them that mommy's the engine powering their ride.

I also fit in an extra run yesterday evening (no yoga, due to soccer schedule). My eldest daughter had to be at her soccer game 40 minutes early, and because it was in a different city, I left extra-early, and we got there with nearly an hour to spare. Luckily, I'd brought my running shoes. While the girls practiced, I went for a run on unfamiliar trails. "Don't get lost!" my daughter told me, and her words were ringing in my ears as I tried to keep track of which side trails I was turning onto. It was a little bit creepy because the trail felt isolated and there was no one on it. I'd left my phone behind too, thinking it would be a short, quick run. I never really got lost, but it did give me something to think about: next time, I would definitely carry water, and possibly my phone, just in case. Part of the trail led through this quite thick woods, and all I could think of was being mauled by a rogue cougar (probably impossible, but hey, we're encroaching on wilderness, so why wouldn't wildlife encroach right back on us?). So I picked up a stick and ran with it the rest of the way. Why did that make me feel safer? But it did. I also felt slightly ridiculous when I did eventually pass some people walking their dogs. Hi, just me and my stick, yup, special arm-strengthening program, running with sticks.

I got back to the field in time to see almost the whole game, and my daughter's team won. She didn't let any goals in, and when she played out, she set up an awesome goal with great footwork and passing. I had this strange sensation watching her (she's eight). She just looked so tall. So separate from me. So big and so herself. I was bursting with pride and also with a kind of awe--at being a mother, I think. That this running girl on the field was mine. I remember her as an infant, clear as day. And there she is: becoming and being herself.

Which is totally off topic. I couldn't sit down or relax the whole game, so I did some stretches by the sidelines. Again, feeling like a bit of a fool, but my body needed to stretch. And it's hard to watch my kid play goal.

Anyway, that's it for my week, because I'm off to spend two days with friends at a cottage. There will be cheese! But I'm not planning on complete sloth and debauchery: I'm bringing the wetsuit to try it out in the lake. Wish me well. I can't even tell if the darn thing is inside-out on the hanger right now. Maybe my friends will help squeeze me into it ...

Day 286: Low

Low or slow, not sure which would more accurately describe my self this morning. I am tired, that's true. And I am hitting a wall of anxiety over the duathlon. I find myself getting anxious about the details, like, for example, the super-fast instant-tie shoelaces which I've yet to install on my shoes. I'm worried about feeding myself on the bicycle. What if I crash while reaching for a gummie or a gel pack? (Gummies and gel packs also seem so totally against my principles. Shouldn't I be making my own homemade versions, or eating real food instead?). Anyway, fairly ridiculous worries, and I can tell that it's just a negative headspace echoing negativity back at me, but so far this morning there's no pulling me out.

I loved the bike ride yesterday. I am still nervous going fast, fast, faster down hills, but that sensation of being sling-shot up the hill after a big downhill -- wow, that is so fun. I think it would be fun to bike for a really long time, though not in a race situation. It's the race part that is scaring me right now.

I do have other concerns related to this project itself. It seems to be consuming a good deal of my time and my life right now, and while I love seeing my body get stronger and gain endurance, I wonder what is being sacrificed? When this is over, and the triathlon is completed, should I be turning my energies to something else? And if so, what is it?? I've appreciated having this project to pour myself into. I spend a lot of my life wondering whether I'm doing the right things, whether I'm pointing myself in the right direction, whether I'll find an occupation that fits perfectly. I feel like shaking myself and saying: Pick Something! Focus! Or maybe I should be shaking myself and saying: Enjoy what you've chosen to focus on for now! Be glad that you can do it! Even if it's not forever!

I'm thankful for my writing. That seems to be the one through-vein, the one thread that sews through the rest of my somewhat scattered interests. I can't say it sews my interests together, because there's no sewing triathlons together with doula'ing, for example. But writing is always there, always with me, no matter where my mind is aimed.

I think part of me longs for a coherent life. But maybe I'd be just as content with an interesting one instead.

Day 284: Skipped

I skipped one planned outing today: I swam like usual, and ran afterward like usual, even sticking to the 5-min/km pace, though my legs were tired and my stomach was growling. But I did not race out the door to yoga as soon as my husband got home, which had been my plan. Instead, I looked at the delicious food I'd worked hard to prepare and was setting on the table, and thought about all of us gathering together to eat it, and I was hungry and I wanted to hang out with my family and not be doing something by myself.

So I stayed. We ate, we talked, and after supper, the kids and I relaxed and watched The Amazing Race. It wasn't a day off, exactly, but it felt good.

And, now, to bed, to sleep, because the alarm will ring early and I'll be off on my bicycle to meet friends for a ride. I still need to learn how to change a tire, but I'm hoping to learn it the easy way and not the hard way, ie. in my driveway and only for practice purposes, and not out of necessity on the road or, perish the thought, during a race.

Day 283: Mother's Day Bliss

I seem to have lost the concept of a rest day. I had no rest days last week, since I decided to bike on Saturday (which was meant to be my off day). And this week, my rest day was Thursday, when I went to a pretty intense vinyasa yoga class. I thought maybe today would be an off day, after my usual swim on Friday, and a 20km bike ride yesterday, followed by a 3km run (with my friend T, as we're both training for the duathlon in two weeks). (Side note: I sense that's going to be mildly torturous, and will push me to my limits once again).

Today I got to sleep in. The best gift for this mother. When I got up, way later than usual and feeling completely rested and ready to get up, my eldest daughter (age 8) made me an egg to order: sunny-side-up was what I chose. Then I opened Mother's Day gifts, and my husband took the kids grocery shopping while I read the newspaper and played piano. By the time they'd returned I was feeling pretty restless. Too much leisure! Too much ease! So I offered to take my eldest daughter to her soccer practice, and try out going for a run at the same time. It turned out to be perfect. The soccer fields are surrounded by beautiful trails, and I ran for an hour and twenty minutes, not fast, just steady and happy, and kind of overjoyed to be able to run and run and run without feeling anything but happy. It made me feel like this is what my body is meant for, and just a great overwhelming gratitude to be able to use it and live in it in this way. I ended with some sprints followed by a short recovery, just to test it out. I felt a little silly sprinting, but hey, it's a sports field and most are there to exert themselves. It's just that most of the people running around are kids, not parents.

So that's my week, and it's been great. I checked my distance when I got home, and it was about 13km. Not that far, really, but far enough.

::::

Here's my week: four runs, two bike rides, two swims, and two yoga classes. (total km running: 28.5km; total km cycling: 40km).

Next week's plan: three runs, one/two bike rides, three swims, and two yoga classes.

Day 279: Tired/Tired

Tired. All I can say. Life, outside of training, has been extremely busy this week, and my fast 10k feels like it's chased me around the block and caught up. I got up early yesterday for a 20km bike ride (my extremities were the only part of me that did not enjoy it; so cold!), and I got up early today for a run. Both with friends. If the friends hadn't been meeting me, I wouldn't have made it out of bed.

This project wouldn't survive without my friends! Thank you all!

Hoping to get to a yoga class this afternoon. Tomorrow is a mostly-off day, with just another yoga class planned. I would like some good sleep to catch me up to normal again.

Day 277: Wired/Tired

I can't seem to get focused today. I feel both wired and tired. I could not nap after yesterday's run. And I had a hard time falling asleep too, but found it relatively easy to hop out of bed this morning. My nap this morning was short, too. But it's wired energy, not useful energy.

I'm anxiously awaiting election results here in Canada.

So ... this morning, I got up just like usual, and swam for 50 minutes, then ran for 5k on the track. I swam in the medium lane (a step up!) with the woman who often swims with me. I still don't know her name (I should really ask). She does triathlons, and she had just run her first half-marathon (outside of a triathlon, she said) yesterday, but she was hesitant to take the medium lane though our usual slow lane was already in use. It was funny to be the one telling her she's fast enough for the medium lane! I mean, she swims faster than me, and she swims without stopping, and trains using a watch, timing her splits. She's faster than a lot of people I've seen in the medium lane, including me (I used a medium lane myself on Friday). She asked if I would split a medium lane with her. I liked that. Like splitting an order of fries. Since we were both tired from our race days, it was a pleasant pace in the water. Time rolled by today, not sure why.

The last thing I felt like doing was running, but the 10k didn't wear me out as much as the half. It was a harder race to run mentally, but I didn't feel it took as much out of me physically. So up I went to the track. I started slow and sped up incrementally until I'd completed 3km, then slowed down for the first lap of the fourth km and sped up as I went, so that I was running the fourth lap even faster than my usual pace. I did this on kilometre five, too, slow lap to start and recover and trying to sprint that last lap. But I was admittedly tired. I tried to imagine someone urging me on, like in spin class. I'm going to miss spin class for that. The voice in my head is never quite as motivating.

I had the absolutely crazy (though no doubt true) thought that if I could run 10km every day like I ran on Sunday, I'd get a whole lot faster. But there's no way I have the mental fortitude for that, even if it were physically possible. Still, I suspect that's how people get faster. They push crazy hard during training.

I keep running across articles on the Kenyan marathoners. Apparently, you can pay to go and train like a Kenyan -- and with Kenyan runners -- and many do. They run three times a day, starting with a wake-up joyful run of about 8-10km, a mid-afternoon run that includes many sprints and long distances, and an evening run, also long, to shake out the lactic-acid build-up of the sprints from earlier. They eat food. No bars, no supplements, mostly carbs. They run on dirt or grass. They always run in groups, sharing energy, pushing each other along. No wonder they're fast. Oh, and it's high altitude, too.

:::

On another note, my Chatelaine.com post is up: a look at my first time trying to learn how to swim, age 35. I still can't quite believe I got into the pool that morning.

:::

Last week: four runs, one spin, one bike ride, two swims, two yoga classes. Not bad!

This week: three runs, two bike rides, two swims, three yoga classes. Not sure whether I can fit in a long run since I'll be doing a bike ride on Saturday instead. We're planning to do a short run after just to get our legs used to the transition in preparation for the duathlon in a few weeks (yikes!).

Day 276: Another Race

I'm beginning to wonder whether I'll become someone who enters races and obsessively tries to beat my last best time. My personality-type just does not allow me to relax and finish at a comfortable pace. Instead, I try to run to my limits, calibrating throughout the race how much harder I can push myself. The physical part of the race almost seems insignificant. It's the mental part that takes all the work and the toughness and the guts. I'm not sure I could have gone quite so fast in today's 10km run had my friend T not been behind me pushing me all the way along. I knew she was tough -- she's done Ironman, and she was running today on an injured foot and therefore much less running training than me, but there she was pushing me on. Somehow knowing and trusting her mental toughness made me push even harder to find my own. Thank you, T!!!!! You're an amazing competitor!

The first half of the race I ran a bit faster than originally planned and I felt a slightly more fatigued than I would have liked. But once half the race was done, I believed it was possible to keep pushing at least that hard for another 5km. Since it was a loop, I knew exactly what to expect. I took advantage of every downhill to pick up the pace, though I did use one downhill, at about 7.5km, to rest just slightly and try to restore my breathing (it didn't help much). I was disconcerted by my breath -- I sounded like a freight train coming through, and I'd hoped to sound much more relaxed. It really felt like a mental game that I was playing with myself. I would feel a flash of doubt -- can I keep this pace going, or am I going to slam into a wall? And then I would find a reason to keep the pace going. I pictured a friend's daughter, who is an amazing runner, and I thought, she wouldn't slow the pace. That's not how she wins races.

Not that I was going to win this race, you understand. It was a race against myself, essentially. I did have those times in my mind: 55 minutes was what I believed was within my means, and I wanted to do it in 50, at 5 minutes a km, which is fast for me. Honestly, I'm not sure how I made it that last kilometre. I couldn't look directly ahead, oddly, but it seemed easier when I looked to the side, almost as if seeing the finish line wasn't going to help me. I was in the zone. The zoned-out zone. I couldn't even wave or smile at friends. Yet I found it within myself to sprint to the finish, a longer sprint than my body wanted to do, but why stop now?

The time on the clock was so exciting that I threw my hands into the air. Under fifty minutes. And my official chiptime clocked me in at 47:54. THRILLING. Honestly, I could not have run that race any faster. I threw everything into it. I finished 6th in my age class, and 16th among the women overall (there were 113 women who finished the race). That's insanely better than I ever did in high school. I wish I'd recognized my own potential back then, and trained properly. But you know, even with all the training in the world, I'm not sure that back in high school I would have had the mental courage to run the way I ran today.

That's what makes running so hard, I'm beginning to see. The training is important, of course, but to go fast, you have to be willing experience deep mental (and physical) discomfort. I'm pretty sure the runners who break records are willing to run to the very edges of their physical limits, and that's simply not easy. I did my best today, but I'd have to train even harder to push the edge of my physical limit. Man. Part of me wants to do exactly that. But during the race, the thought I kept shoving back down was -- this is WAY TOO HARD and you are NEVER GOING TO DO THIS TO YOURSELF AGAIN!

Sorry, self. I think I just might. The high of crossing the finish line, the high was knowing I pushed as hard as I could -- well, it's a bit like childbirth, really, though on a slightly reduced scale of pain and ecstasy. It's not fun 'til it's over, and then it's right up there with the most amazing feeling you'll ever have the privilege of experiencing.