The long pause before a short burst.

In Japanese symbolism the koi can represent perserverance in adversity and strength of purpose. The strongest koi swims upstream until it reaches the final waterfall, where it vaults into the mists and becomes a water dragon.

It is apropos that the local graffiti guy, Def3, chose to paint a koi on a local, favorite wall  and that I noticed it after my first long ride of the season.

A little background. I chose this year to cut back on my races and focus on my first stand-alone marathon, Breaking 6 hours at the Great White North Half IM and getting a personal best in my third Ironman Canada.
To my surprise, I found that less was actually harder than more. Without an impending race, I meandered out of the current and found myself wading, walking...coasting - when I should have been pushing harder than ever to prep.
By my calculations, I volunteered over 25 hours at local triathlons as everything from Bike and Transition Captain to general gopher and set 'er uper. This kept me in the Tri spirit, but really did keep me away from training.
That being said, I did achieve my first two goals and am feeling a little too confident for my third. But getting the training in is proving very difficult. It is like I am swimming upstream. I can't seem to put together the epic training days and weeks that I had achieved last year and the year before.

It is the same with posting on this blog. I'm just not motivated. Maybe I'm swimming up against something that happens in the third year of endurance athletes...apathy...boredom...complacency?

With less than five weeks to go before Ironman Canada, I really have to get my gills into the training. I know I will and I know I have done the work to get me there, albeit in a meandering kind of way.

This lack of focus, however, points to the need to radically refocus for next season. More on that later. No more distractions, I have to do this training like a fish needs a bicycle - or something like that.

Pilot Error and the Silver Linings in Dark Clouds.

Recently, I wrote about failure and geometry. More specifically I noted that there was more to any endeavor than the distance between two points.

In a recent race I encountered a whole different type of error. Screwing up - doing an extra lap on the bike ride. Aside from that momentary (6 minutes worth) of a lapse (laps), the race was great. Best ever sprint bike ride of my life, pretty good swim, average run.

This was the "icebreaker" race. The morning started out with snow and it was -1C. The race organizers considered canceling the ride part of the race.

Instead. The transition was moved indoors (that added 5 minutes to my swim to bike time!) and I wore many layers and tights and a cover over my helmet - as did others.

I had the worst sprint triathlon time of my life - rivaling my first ever one I did 4 years ago.

I had the best time in a sprint triathlon in my life - rivaling my first ever one I did 4 years ago.

So how can this be? How can such a crappy performance be remembered so fondly?
It was a terrible day to be racing outdoors. Roads were wet, air was cold, snow was falling. But through all this, I decided that I would enjoy myself, regardless of what I encountered. I bundled up and took my time getting ready after the swim. But when I was ready, I gave it everything I had and blasted through the bike course that was straight and flat and with a tailwind in one direction that had me going 43k/hr.

It was so much fun that I forgot to count laps. I did seven, instead of six. But I enjoyed every single one of those laps and then followed them up with a strong and happy run.

This race was clearly an example of pilot error. I screwed up. I could have had a very good time. But, really, it is all about attitude. I didn't really care about time. I wanted to be comfortable, not cold. And I wanted to race as fast as I could, shrouded in a puffy dark cloud of comfort. Was I happy? I was ecstatic. And I took the energy of having completed this race into my very cold commutes to work.

This is not a race that will be forgotten soon...ask any one else who did it and they'll share similar stories.

Failure?...or this is where two dimensional reasoning gets you.

I was thinking about a high school geometry class earlier today. I spend a lot of time thinking about triangles. More specifically, I was thinking about points.

One point is a point in time/space. 
Two points make a line.
Three points create (potentially) a three-dimensional plane - although the math guru I spawned  would say: "but do not necessarily define a line -- they may not be collinear."
To summarize:  You need three points, at least if you are going to watch Avatar in 3D. You'll probably also need those geeky glasses too, though.

So after I sat down and let the blood rush back to my brain after these esoteric thoughts mathematical , I started to put into perspective a half marathon I ran on the weekend.  My goal was to finish in under two hours. I finished in 2 hours, 3 minutes and change. My personal best for that course is 1:58:48, my first ever run at that distance - and that course was 2:40 and change.

Ignoring the fact that I have been training for my first Marathon (two Ironman finishes don't count) at the end of May and am not completely focused on speed, I initially felt like I failed.

Of course I failed. All the other cool kids are running 1:40s or 1:50s...So what if I'm "big boned" and still running heavy and asthmatic and not very fast over long distances.  I still wanted to get from point A to point B in less than two hours, and I failed. didn't I?

Well. This is why I started thinking about geometry and Euclid, or was that Pythagoras - some Greek in any case. I became aware that my goals have been too two dimensional. I've been thinking about two points, when I should be thinking about three, or four or more.

My goals, as obtuse as they may sometimes seem, are so much more than point A to point B. They involve so many more dimensions, including time - but not necessarily finish time. They include building a healthy life, growing with my family, shrinking girth, and genuinely learning from the journey.

When I crossed the finish line,  I was disappointed. But I have to look at all the individual segments or points of the run  including the points that I was running a 4 minute/km pace; the preparation for it;  the ongoing prep for the full marathon in May and the sprint triathlon in two weeks. Oh and the rest of life that never goes on pause.

I realize that this triangle may not be as easily defined as  a2 + b2 = c2, but it has more relevance to what I'm doing than I first assumed. 

For those of you that are mathematically inclined, you will recall that a sum of a triangle's angles add up to 180 degrees. As I was running 21.1k, preparing to run 42.2k, it became acutely obvious to me that I would be seeing that 180 number before the run...180k bike ride in late August. Coincidence? Hmmm.There are no coincidences!

It is time to pull up my big boy tri shorts and HTFU. I started this journey because I grew tired of looking like a cuddly rhombus. It is not individual races or goals of finish times that motivate me. It is doing the training and building structures, physical, intellectual and emotional where none previously existed. And learning as much about myself in the process as I can.

No, not failure. Eureka!
I'd better get out of the bathtub now.

Is it time yet?

The great Orson Welles, after he became great "topographically", as well, did a series of tv ads for a wine company urging that no wine will be sold before it is time.

That catch phrase comes to mind a lot this time of year as I start to look forward to increasing the training I have to do and the races for which I have to prepare.

For the most part, the snow has melted. Yesterday,  I ran in shorts. I had my first tri-bike ride on the highway and the bike commuting to work has begun. Swimming outdoors is still two months away - even with a wetsuit, however.

I'm fully aware that the weather may change and I may have to return to doing all my training indoors again, albeit, for a few days. But that would be little more than a minor setback.

But is it time yet? For the first-time triathlete or endurance athlete, getting ready for the first season is all about focus on one thing - getting to the event ready to compete...or win...or survive.

For the athlete with one or three or more race seasons under her race belt, this is a time of prepping for balance. Balance between disciplines. Nutritional balance. Work-life balance. Most importantly, family balance. This is one thing that I'm still trying to learn.

In my first year, I tried to not sacrifice family time by just getting up earlier and earlier. So I was on the trail or on my bike at 5 or 6 am. This worked. (Sorta worked the woman I share my bed with would add). I missed lots. And the long runs and bike rides taking me out of the house for 5 to 7 hours did just that...kept me out of the house.

This year is going to be more about planning time around family. Including them in the training when possible, but being much more flexible when I do what I need to do to show up to the event ready to compete...or survive.

A big part of this is remembering not to stress if I miss a planned training session.

Stick to plan, that is wise
When you can't, improvise!

Catchy phrases aside, I have a sneaking hunch that this is going to be a great year for me both athletically and emotionally. I'm really looking forward to pushing myself hard to see what the third time at the big race will yield.

I'm even more looking forward to relaxing hard with those around me and thriving on their love and energy.

So, with respect to ramping up my training, yes, it is certainly time.

With respect to figuring out how to do this and not miss out on life, it's about time!

Bawdy Ink and Allegory.

I remember when I first embarked upon this TRIron-journey. The first question non-triathletes asked me, after "how far?" and "are you flippin' nuts?", was "are you going to get the tattoo?".

Now that was something everyone could understand. A tattoo. A permanent mark both recognizing and advertising the accomplishment. A brand...well, actually not a brand at all, more like a badge of honour. Branding is an entirely different kink.

I don't mean any sarcasm or misplaced witt in my words. The desire to celebrate an accomplishment is reasonable and justified. And I respect that. How one does it is a very personal and meaningful commitment to themselves or to those around them. Tattoos have a lot of history under them both personal and anthropological, other than those that are in some Asian script that actually spells "that ain't chicken".

So before I completed my first Ironman. My head was a-buzz with the merits of getting the M-dot. For all you noobs, that's what the call that M with a dot over it. It is actually a trademarked symbol. Its use in most of the media is somewhat strictly regulated - although not as much as the Olympics and their logo - but that "society" has a budget that rivals the Vatican.

I even recall some talk of tattoos with the M-dot having to have the Registered mark on them...but you can't believe everything you read, especially not online.

If you haven't figured it out just yet, symbols are just as important as words to me. And while I completely respect anyone's use of a now very commercial symbol on their body, I could not justify doing likewise. At least not without investing some additional meaning to it.

So on the advice of some very good friends and others who have seen me without clothes on, I came upon a design that included the M-dot, but was based on the stylized imagery of the individual events and my struggle to find proficiency. (still haven't found it by the way.) In addition, I also chose this to be a canvas in progress. Filling in the M-dots as I completed up to three Ironman races.

I found this to be the perfect marriage of making use of meaningful symbols and a nod to a recognizable, commercial entity, Ironman.

I was happy with the results a little anklet-like tattoo with swim bike run, one filled-in M-dot and two unfilled ones. The idea being that the unfilled ones would get filled as I completed more Ironman races.

Now I'm at two completed with another scheduled a few month hence. I haven't bothered to go "fill in" #2. Is it laziness? Fear of Hepatitis? Or do I just not want to stay away from swimming for a week or two for the expected crust to heal.

I think it goes deeper than the ink. It is the understanding of the finality of things. By completing this trio of ink it signals that I will be done. It will be over. Filling in #2 means #3 will need to be done soon too - if I ever complete the IMC in August.

Then what? More races...Silverman? Something more extreme?  Eating at KFC? More tattoos? Do I stop racing? Do I switch to branding or piercing? Or do I just suck it up and stop thinking about things so much.

Well. If I find a two week lull in my swim training, which I doubt, I might fill in #2...If not,  I will get it filled in after the race. Easy decision.

What about #3. Will I get that filled in then too?

Well, I know that I have acres of extra real estate on my body - even the small tracts that are unforested. But I don't really have any compulsion to get more ink, at least not of the iron variety.

So I'm seriously thinking of leaving one space unfinished...a hint that there will always be one more race. This could be my incentive to keep the spirit and soul of this lifestyle alive.

In some ways, it is a bit like the birthmark in  Nathaniel Hawthorne's story. Only in reverse. Adding it will foreshadow the end.

So who would have thunk that getting some ink in your body would end up being allegorical. Interesting things happen to one's body and mind when we are pushed to our limits.

Volunteering and race karma

Let me just state for the record that I believe in race karma.

I know, I know, sources very close to me will argue until they are blue in the face that it is all coincidence, that if you roll a six,  you will not change your odds for the next roll.

But if you have been following this blog through its presumptuous, circuitous meanderings over the past couple of months, you will appreciate that I believe that everything one does to prepare for a race will make a difference (good or bad) on race day.

I know, I know there is always the unplanned for, unpredictable fluke of luck or misfortune. But you can prepare for that by working on dealing with improvisation. Not theatre sports. Rather,  knowing how to take a breath;  evaluating the crisis and seeing how and if you can proceed and not end your day many miles before the finish line.

This is where the volunteering comes in.

When you volunteer for a race, or for a club, you are doing something that could, potentially, make you feel good - unless you are doing it to spite someone - but spite turns some people on, so whatever turns your Dura ace 7800.

By volunteering, you are making it possible for people that you may not even know to participate in something that scares, thrills or challenges them and that can, potentially, change their lives.

All this for showing up, hanging around and then having some stale donuts and cold coffee.

I know some of these volunteers. They don't race. But they show up, event after event and participate in their own way. They make the event possible for countless others and make future events possible just by contributing to the events' success.

Volunteering can also prepare you for a race though.

When you show up and set up a race and help racers and take down the race, you see some incredible things. Well, you also discover why public nudity should be enforced better at races, at least!

You can also see where racers make mistakes how they fix them, if they can, and how the MOP and BOPs get through the challenge. You will also see how the truly graceful  Front Of Pack racers have refined their skills so that it sometimes seems that they are not even racing at all, but just enjoying themselves.

You see this as a volunteer. If you learn from this it becomes part of your race prep.When you learn from this participation, your databank grows to way beyond your own race experience. It begins to include the experiences of all those around you. You can't get that from a book! Well, maybe you can, but it would have to be a really thick book, with lots of pictures and a bibliography.

The past few weeks have been a tough for being a volunteer. This is work in the trenches. Doing stuff that no one will notice, unless it doesn't go well, then everybody will notice. And stuff didn't go well. Curse you Interweb!

It has not involved setting up the race, but ensuring that everyone knows what is going on, where to register, how to pay, and all the administrivia that most only have to deal with once per race.

But I learned stuff. Through the comments and the complaints and the perseverance of those around me, working equally hard to get the races ready for the racers, I took multitasking to a new level. I learned how to dump my computer's cache, I learned what it feels like to miss a couple of training days in a row. I learned a few more choice swear words in txt messaging.

Most of all, I learned how to just get the job done. And I did get my job done.

And that is no different than on race day. You have to get from Point A to Point B (there could be many points if this is one of those new fangled point to point races, so don't nitpick!).

There will be obstacles in your way. Snow, cold, wind, waves flats, bonks, crashes, hills, blisters...the list is practically endless. You just need to HTFU and get it done, even if getting it done means cutting your losses and planning for the next race.

So. In a few days,  I will race in a local, minor, insignificant,  "C" race. This race always kicks my ass. But you can bet, I'll be there volunteering and setting up just before I set up my transition.

Why? Because volunteers helped make this race happen again this year. And if I want to have it kick my ass again next year, I'd better do everything I can do to make it a success.

I have no illusions about my athletic aspirations. I'm a Middle Of Pack kinda guy. I won't win and I don't need to win, but I do need to race.  Race karma doesn't care how or where I place. But I won't even have a chance to use my race karma if there is no race. So I volunteer and I increase race karma and I learn from race to race, regardless of whether I'm wearing the race bib or handing it out.

Cell phones on Race Day.

So they have passed this new law here.
Drivers can't talk on the phone or text while they drive. Not a bad idea. I've seen too many drivers - especially as a cyclist and runner - not even notice me because they where on their mobile devices, concentrating on where to find the @.

Although there are huge fines and demerit points for those that get caught, it is next to unenforceable other than at spot check kind of situations. I still think it is a good idea and will, eventually take hold like it has in some parts of Europe - not because it is illegal, but because it is just wrong to be holding a phone and driving.

But then there is the frustration. You know how locked doors only keep honest people out. Well. Every so often, I get a call or text while on the road. And it is really not possible to pull over and stop.

This happened today while I was driving with Second Born. I quickly recruited her into reading the text and answering. It worked really slick.

But as with all unrelated things this incident got me thinking about endurance sports and what draws me to the longer distances.

I'm an age grouper. I'm not aiming to podium or FOP and sometimes MOP turns into BOP. That is clear. But even though I wont likely jump to the Front Of the Pack, I'm still in these races to finish and to finish standing, upright, smiling and hopefully, at least a little, breathless.

In the car, I had Second Born do my work for me. In some shorter events, MOPs can just show up and race and be done. Training is secondary little work is really done. Someone else is really doing all the work at their races.

Don't get me wrong, the contenders in these races, even those cursed with balsa wood bones and lightening speed, train and train hard. Some, however, just do a little running and stuff a few weeks before the race and get by with that. And that's fine, but it is like making the destination the most important part of the journey.

Can't do that for an iron distance race. You just can't phone it in. You have to start training early, you have to train hard and you have to train smart. No one can do this for you.

If you show up unprepared, you will end up at the side of the road seeing the inside of your stomach convulsing in the open air right in front of your bulging eyes.

As for me, I like to finish races. I love to finish races, it means I can rest. The races themselves? Well...

What motivates me is seeing my progress through the months of training. Pushing myself more and more every week, then resting. Then pushing harder.

The destination is not the race, the destination is what I can achieve through the training. The six hour solitary bike ride to nowhere and back is the journey that will get me there.

The four hour run - just to see if I can do it - is just one of the signposts. The soupçon of chlorine on my skin is the tattoo.

I just signed up for a bunch of short races to prime my training as I work towards the Marathon and Ironman I have have planned this season.

I'm not looking forward to getting up even earlier to get in the training before my family misses me. But I am yearning for the euphoric jolt I get as the training takes hold and that quiet confidence fills me on race day.

I won't be phoning anything in, except maybe the news that I didn't drown when I call my mother after the race.