Welcome back fatigue.

Last Friday I did something that I said I would do. I took a day off and I had a workout involving all four disciplines. Swim, Bike, Run...and fuel. With May 5th fast approaching, in addition to the normal, gradual build up in my training tolerance, I am also trying to reacquaint myself and my muscle memory with what a real triathlon is about.

So, what did I do. I got up, had a non-fibre, carb and protein breakfast. Drove to the pool. I swam for just over an hour, or 3,100 metres. This wasn't a race. I wanted to get some time and distance in. As it turned out, it was very busy and I had to change where I was swimming three times (deep tank, to open pool, to designated lanes). This was a great chance to get up, have some water (I usually don't hydrate during the swim if I can help it) and pee a few times (this I usually try to do before the canon goes off -- hard to pee and stroke at the same time).

 
Following the swim I took my time, washed off the chlorine, had some carb and protein and drove home. Got on my bike in the basement and proceeded to spin (low gear, high cadence - with some harder work variety thrown in) for just over 3 hours or 71kms. I watched The Bourne Identity.  Action Movies work best for mindless circles. I've tried drama...too much concentration required.

I had to change clothing twice, went through six towels and had two bottles of water; one gatorade; one disgustingly sweet, flat soadpop thing in the fridge; one pb&j sandwich; and one cliff bar. I thought about using my race-proven favourite, perpetuem, but I'm saving what I have for later training.

Photo copyright CJ Katz

After I got off the bike, I had a very tough decision to make. Every part of me wanted to just get on the treadmill, make it easy, comfortable. But I knew that getting on the treadmill would give me too many excuses to cut my planned run short.

So I dried off, got indoor run gear on, drank some water, had a banana and drove to the indoor track at the field house.

There began a one hour/10km run that was divided into 4 segments where I switched direction, stretched my foot and drank water. I had a gel at Hammer Gel at 30 minutes.

It was at about 10 minutes into the run that I got "that feeling" back.  Long course triathletes will know of what I speak. You are tired. you are sore. But your legs are working. All that swimming and biking did not limit your ability to move your legs and arms and propel yourself forward. I probably could have run for hours.

This familiar fatigue was the signal that I'm doing something right and that my body is responding well to moving from sport to sport without too much protest. I remember this feeling well as I overcame my intense desire to walk and started running up Main Street at Ironman Canada .

This Epic Training session as it has now come to be known demonstrates that I might just be ready for, at least finishing Ironman St. George in May. 

Goal setting my way out of oblivion

One day, while unsuccessfully treading despair in the morass of a banal foot injury, I remembered I could swim. It felt good to return to those familiar fluid movements.

So I swam to a spot that gave me a modicum of stability.

Then I remembered I could ride. So I got on the bike and peddled, as if I were actually moving.

It is then that I rediscovered that, to get somewhere, I had to work hard to get nowhere.

I've spent a little too much time not moving, mourning my lost athleticism and blaming a recalcitrant body part -- my foot -- for an almost unforgivable slide into decrepitude.

Sure. My foot hurts. It makes its presence known at the most inopportune moments, such as first thing in the morning, last thing at night and many times in between. But I have grown tired of growing and being tired.

A friend, likewise burdened with self imposed inactivity, suggested we do a little race. Ironman St. George, Utah.

I jumped at the idea of trying something new. The Ironman distance is an old, familiar friend of mine. I know the St. George course, as I rode much of it last year. What is new is the idea of training indoors. Pulling myself out of this funk by moving as deliberately and as fast as I can, without really going anywhere. I'm working hard to get nowhere and everywhere.

The race is on May 5th. That means that all the bike riding will most likely be indoors, or at least the 3 to 7-hour junkets. There will be no open water swim practice. Last time I swam in a Saskatchewan lake before June, I altered my anatomy in a not-so-favourable way.

Then there is running. Over a month ago, I started running indoors, at the track and on the treadmill. Plodding, really, not running. The foot complained, but because it was well taped, that seemed to muffle it's annoying protestations. Following the runs it was less than unbearably painful, so that gave me some hope.

Strangely, at least up until now, it has been unseasonably warm in southern Saskatchewan. We've seen temperatures hovering just below and just above zero Celsius, instead of the expected -20 to -40. Because of that I took some careful forays outdoors with my feet and my old (still newish) stability New Balance shoes (instead of the Vibram Five Fingers shoes. They don't work on ice, or wet, it seems...)

I'm slow. The ice doesn't help. But I'm running. There were times when I thought that I would never run again.

New shirt, new 'do, new 'tude.

So I'm back to the sport and the Tri-angle journey. I'm back to strength training and better eating and swim/bike/run.

I only have a few months to get race-ready and I'm looking forward to that experience. More than that, I'm eager to reacquaint myself with the guy that I left behind in self piteous oblivion last June. 

Follow me here and I'll try not to get lost again.

Nostalgia and getting faster as time runs out.

Just after my first Ironman in 2008 with the mentor who got me through it.

I'm feeling a little sad and somewhat nostalgic. It took me a little time to figure out why. Ironman Canada is on August 28th in Penticton, British Columbia. For the first time in four years, I won't be making the trek (some have called it a pilgrimage) out to watch or to race or to register.

I  won't be making the trip, not because I'm injured. I was fine when I finished IM #3 last year. I didn't re-register because it was time for a change. I wanted to try something else for a while (I guess I got what I wished for!).

Of course it didn't help that the World Triathlon Corporation's strategies and initiatives made the whole event more about extracting increasing sums of money from the amateurs and promoting the professional athletes (in 2009, WTC purchased a number of Ironman franchises from North American Sports - the owner of Ironman Canada. WTC is owned by Providence Equity Securities). The idea of waiting in line, in the sun, before race day, to pay more than $600 US more than a year in advance to race (let's call it an interest-free loan, perhaps?) just rubbed me the wrong way. But I digress.

I am still feeling a little bit of a loss for not being there to soak up the energy of, in my opinion,  the best sports experience anywhere. It is the setting, the volunteers, the racers...I've found myself being a little listless over the past couple of weeks. I've not ridden my tri bike and have all but given up on swimming. I suppose this is how I'm dealing with the sense of loss...or passage.

I have a number of friends taking part in this race at the end of August. I will be racing vicariously through them (you know who you are!)  and watching the event online...if the feed works this year. This is still a great race and my best wishes to you!

But as I decided on that sunny day in August 2010, in the athlete village in Penticton when I saw the 2011 race sign-up line snake around the entire length of the grounds...it was time for a change.

So I got what I asked for. A change. A totally unexpected turn of events where the very foundation of everything I wanted to do was pulled out from under me, as it were. And I was forced to cool my heels...

But along with this unwelcome surprise came a number of unexpected blessings.  I spent more time with my family and learned to do the things they liked to do, as they learned what I liked and much coffee was enjoyed.

I had the absolute privilege and pleasure to introduce my partner to a wonderful man, his partner and his family and to spend a week in their company doing everything and doing nothing. Ironically the sign above is from one of the sojourns we took where they introduced us to a part of the world I had never before seen.

I took the time to really enjoy mornings. I used to be so focused on running out the door and getting a few KMs or more in...not this summer. Instead, I lounged on the verandah and learned how to loaf, hang out with the squirrel and how to appreciate the little things, such as a good cup of coffee or a tasty walnut.

But what really made an impression on me was a chalk board sign that I encountered at a local folk festival. My partner and I usually like to walk downtown and soak in Patchouli infused Birkenstock wearing ambiance of the festival during the day, before the headliners show up. It really is a good experience.

As we walked through Victoria Park,  there it was, a huge chalkboard sign made up of a number of classroom-sized chalk boards. On each of the boards were the words: "BEFORE I DIE I WANT TO ..." and then a blank line to fill in one's wish.

The boards were full. They had everything from the earnest to the nonsensical. Things like "see my grandma again" to "beat cancer". This was like a wishing well where there are no secrets. It really got me thinking about what I would would to do, before I die.

So I thought, and I thought. I stole some surreptitious glances at my partner, who's hand I held increasingly tighter. I thought about my kids, I thought about some of my good friends, both new and old.

I thought about my foot and the injury that isn't going away, but is lingering, seemingly just to make a point. I thought about the recuperation and physical therapy that is demonstrating how fast I can run, and also how little a should run. It is an injury that seems to be urging me, as I get older, to hurry up and slow down so I can meander on the path less taken.

That's when I realized that I was doing exactly what I want to be doing before I die. Everything else is details.

The forest and the trees.

I thought that I should probably post some words since my last few entries were real downers. More of an update than anything else. It has been some time now since I parked my running shoes and took up an number of therapies that were supposed to help my Plantar Fasciitis. All but one have done very little to relieve the pain...I'm keeping the last one under wraps so as not to jinx it.

But I can see the forest and the trees. I have been running, first around the block, then around two blocks and now for just over 1.5kms. I've noticed something very interesting. I'm not pain-free by any stretch (no pun intended, but that reminds me that I have to stretch again). What's interesting is that I'm a running better, stronger, faster. Where I used to have a so-so six minute/km pace, I'm now regularly doing fives. And my run is smooth. I credit all the work I've done in physio. My personal torturer has begun to correct sloppy and mal-practiced form that took me years to perfect. Of course, I have no run endurance, and it is questionable if I'll be able to sustain such a pace over 5, 10 or 42.2kms - or even if I will get back to those distances. But I'm running. I'm feeling good about running. And I'm now only a bit jealous when I see others running much longer distances in the park.

I'm also back to doing bricks. I've rekindled my relationship with my 21year old, 12-speed,  steel road bike. My tri bike sits lonely in the basement.  I'm out doing some short (less than 60k), fast rides and then jumping into my Vibram 5 Fingers and running 1K or so. These bricks (bike-run intervals) feel like I'm back to training, but without the stress of an impending race. It feels good,  pain notwithstanding. And contrary to the advice of some, I have been spending more and more time barefoot.

A few weeks ago, I spent an incredible week with The One I Love and some great friends in Bruce County and Waterloo County, Ontario. While there, thanks to my favourite airline, we were stuck for four days without luggage. We did an easy trek through Lion's Head Provincial Park with me in Birkenstocks (as my trail shoes were in my absent baggage). The Birkenstocks quickly came off and I did a large part of the walk truly barefoot. It felt like I was floating on air, so liberating the feeling was!

So...looking ahead there are some positives. The PF has certainly not resolved, but I'm doing stuff that may or may not help. I've kinda sorta committed to a running thing a year from now that I'll write about later.

Sure, I DNS'd two triathlons and will not be participating in a marathon next month. But I had a rejuvenating week with new(ish) friends who will become old friends long before we get old. I also am having a great summer with family and I'm spending some time with my self, which is something that I must remember to do more often.  I'm gradually getting back into what I'm into.

I'm enjoying the beauty of the forest and the trees and I know, one day, sooner or later, I will easily run through that forest...just like Forrest.

Building a new mythology

Two DNS races have come and gone and I feel it is safe to dare to venture out of my self-imposed silence.

You see I was somewhat concerned that I was starting to whinge a little too much about how sore my foot was and how I was not getting to run or race.

Well. Nothing has really changed. Using the scale my physiotherapist uses, my pain level ranges between a 7 (out of 10) and a 2 (after a dram or six).

I skipped two races and a whole load of training. I just don't feel like waking up at 5 am to train right now and, frankly, I do feel kinda sorry for myself. And I've probably not been the best company of late.

So how is this not whinging and complaining? Well, I'm doing other stuff. Spending lots of time with the fruits of my loin and the love of my life. I re-shingled the garage roof, and cleaned out that garage making room for a mini new addition to the fleet.

I volunteered and was either a "captain" or a volunteer for two local races: See Dick and See Jane Tri For a Cure. For one of the races for which I DNS'd, Regina Beach Duathlon, I served as a race official and an uber volunteer, getting there at the crack of stupid to help set up the bike transition. The picture above was my reward. The sunrise picture is also a bit of a reminder for me that another way may be dawning for me. Or maybe not...it is a little cliché.

Some days I just want to rip my foot off and start over! But then I'm reminded of the parable of the man who complained that he had no hat until he met a man who had no head.

Paranoid Larry and his Imaginary Band "sing" about this way of thinking too.

But, I have moved passed this way of thinking. I am doing my prescribed physiotherapy exercises daily. I'm doing considerable self massage - sometimes enlisting the help of others - and I'm running. Yes, running. I'm only running around the block, mind you, but those 2.5 minutes are my favorite time of the day (other than the self massage with the enlisted help of others heretofore noted).

I was running for a minute at a time on the treadmill - wearing nothing but my bare feet, but that got quite dull and somewhat chaffed.

I did end up purchasing some Vibram Five Fingers. I wear them around the block. I have been wearing them a lot. In fact,  I wore them for the whole day of volunteering/officiating at the Regina Beach duathlon. Did they help my feet? How should I know? Nothing I've done so far has made any difference, but at least I am trying something. Between the massage and the overnight foot splint and the Birkenstock Sandal wearing and the stretching and the foot epsom baths and ice, ice and more ice and the OTC anti-inflammatories and,  of course the platypus sacrifices (I made that last one up - it was a cat) at least I feel like I'm doing something.

I thought it was about shoes, but it really wasn't. 

I thought it was about triathlon and training, but it really wasn't. 

I thought it was about keeping fit and not ballooning to 270 pounds again, but that wasn't it either. 

What is it about? 

Who knows, I'm still in pain all the time. But I know this is a test of an entirely different kind that I just can't run or bike or swim or fake my way through. This is tapping my resolve, my sense of humour and my perseverance like they have never been tapped before. 

Once again, I'm on the outside. The side that I was on before I became an Ironman. The side of the little boy looking in the sweetie shop window liking his lips and fingering nothing more than one penny in his otherwise empty pockets.

Being on the outside suits me.

For now. 

I'm focusing on doing what needs to be done, rather than what I think I should do. I'm learning. I'm adjusting. I'm taking the time to hand wash and dry the new car. 

In so doing, I'm noticing the scratches and the dents and seeing how they reflect my position and the clichés and metaphors with which I have surrounded myself. Perhaps this is about building a new personal mythology?

Shalom, Aloha, Start your Engines for Plan B.

Last weekend, after spending six days without running once, I found myself responsible for leading a group of about 50 elementary school kids in a 3K community run. Of course, I had no intention of running, but a couple of the grade threes took off at a four minute pace and I had to keep up. This run was on city streets, that although controlloed by police, there was still traffic moving...so off I went. Running faster than I have for months. 

Later that day and throughout the evening the pain in my right heel that I had managed to mollify somewhat, returned with a vengeance. It was at that point that I started thinking about surrendering to the pain. 

Up until this point, and on the advice of the crackerjacks, I was still running. My mileage was way down, but I was still going out and logging a few kilometers. The new, intense pain made me think differently. If you have ever had a bladder infection, or an anal fissure or a bad case of asthma or strep throat, you will understand how I felt. Something as basic and fundamental and natural as peeing or shitting or breathing or swallowing suddenly becomes so painful, that you don't want to do it. You do everything you can to avoid it.  That's what walking had become. 

Running wasn't a problem. I run on my forefoot. It was the stopping, the starting and everything before and after any run. Running has become so natural to me. But I was afraid of doing it. 

An appointment with the physiotherapist the next day confirmed that I should not race my upcoming half ironman-distance race in early July, nor the Olympic (Standard) distance race the week later. And perhaps the Marathon planned for September was iffy. 

Instead, I should focus on running for one minute, barefoot on the treadmill, or grass or sand. And build up SLOWLY from there. Also, to correct the slight issues with my form, I was given a bunch of other exercises, including toe/leg raises on stairs and lunges and modified squats. I toyed with the idea of running barefoot and naked on the treadmill, but, like naked beach volleyball, certain laws of physics do not agree well with a lack of bodily compression...nuff said.

The idea of running barefoot is to allow the fascia in the foot/heel to gradually become re-accustomed to the stress I'm putting on them. Although my PT is not a forefoot running proponent, per se, looking at the wear pattern of my runners, she questioned why I even wear stability shoes...maybe neutral shoes or even something more minimal would be appropriate?

I haven't quite bought into that, but she helped me formalize me decision. I was preparing to be DFL, but now I was to be DNS. Contrary to a good friend's advice, I wasn't willing to just do a bit of the race and DNF. I  considered his advice, but I just couldn't justify the expense of traveling to a race (and spending over $600) for a race that I knew I would not be finishing. For some who have never completed a race, I can see the courage and the merit of that. I've had a personal best in this race, I've done an Ironman, or three. There would be no honor or pride. Although I will miss the exceptional organization and goodwill of this particular race.

So it is not an overstatement to say that once I made this decision I became somewhat melancholic. I have never DNS'd before. And my whole season was evaporating right in front of me. And no, I was not really heading the conclusion of my previous blog. 

But as the week progressed, I was forced to get to work by bike (my vehicle exhausted it's last cough). I also decided to swim a little and I swam a lot. I also just grabbed my bike and rode after dinner, something I don't do normally. 

Then I got to thinking about this checkered flag I was waving. Sure it heralds the end of the race. But was it really a white flag  (with black squares) or a black flag with white squares? A white flag means surrender, but a black flag is a symbol of anarchy! What I have been going through lately has been quite anarchistic.

I have to return to the beginning. This is a great chance to look at the fundamentals. To get stronger and maybe, hopefully,  to rise above these setbacks and comeback better, faster and wiser than before. 

In Hebrew, Shalom  means peace, completeness, and welfare. It can also mean goodbye and hello! Similarly, Aloha, in the Hawaiian language can mean love, peace, compassion, mercy, as well as goodbye and hello.

Aloha can also mean the breath of life.

Ultimately, the goal of any triathlete might be to say Aloha to Kona at the world championship. I might still make it there one day. 

For the time being though, I'm starting my engine and getting back on the right foot - if I can - and more closely heeding the recent advice of Chuckie V. and looking closely at Plan B.

Aloha...and Shalom.

Foot Shy

I've had problems with my heel. Sometimes it has felt like I had pins and needles in it. Other times it felt like I was walking on broken glass. I've written previously about the Plantar Fasciiotis self diagnosis. It has since been confirmed by a massage therapist, a podiatrist and a physiotherapist.

If you are asking why no GP or Osteo or other knife wielding MD...two words: refer all. Besides, my GP, who I really do respect was all about referring me to the professionals I sought out and found myself.

I have also undergone a number of treatments most of which were interesting and intriguing, none of which have done anything but make me feel like I'm doing something useful.

I may as well be warming blankets and boiling water. Or perhaps adding a few eyes of newt to my favourite morning beverage. It has been very discouraging. Further, it has reaffirmed my reluctance to seek professional help for something that is not broken, bleeding or requiring a biopsy.

Now don't misunderstand. I've had a lot of successes from RMTs - one person that I consider a good friend is an RMT. In fact, it was an RMT, who was also licensed as a chiropractor who got my neck working the day before my most recent Ironman Canada.

The physio pointed out some very cogent errors/inadequacies of my stride (which I'm working on by the way). The chiro pointed out how I need to relax my shoulders when I run - and told me how to do it.

The podiatrist showed me how to tape my foot and got me a good night splint to use.

All of these professionals are athletes themselves and understand what I have gone through. None of these professionals have really helped address my issue: the condition and the pain.

I have determined that this is stemming from my calf tightness - and partially because of how I run. (Thanks to the physio).

So I've tried a number of different remedies, some less orthodox than others. And although I feel somewhat disillusioned and mostly defeated, I remain eternally hopeful that one day I'll get out of bed and not hurt.

One unfortunate side effect of this constant heel pain has been the fact that I see to have become run shy. Much like trying to relax and "let go" in the company of others, I've found that I'm reluctant to create opportunities to go out and run. Every time a little obstacle presents itself - cold, wind, dirty laundry, making supper, re-run of Biggest Loser - I have used it as an excuse to not run. Further, I have also avoided running with others -- in fear of slowing them down.

This is completely new to me. Previously, I reveled in running in -30c. I bragged about pushing through a windy morning run, I hoarded newspapers that I could use to stuff into my soaked runners.

Now? Not so much.

Keep in mind that I hurt...but not when I run. The crackerjacks (borrowing a word for medical people from the Cranky Princess) have all suggested that I should run. My own empirical evidence (taking two weeks off from running) demonstrated no tangible difference to the exquisite quality and quantity of pain.

Being a forefoot runner, I have no pain when I run. When I walk however, I look like a constipated John Wayne swaggering up to the bar, Pilgrim.

Being run shy has spilled over, as it were, to my other athletic pursuits. It has now become easier to avoid swimming: I'm too busy at lunch. Or swimming the distance I need to swim: I only have 30 minutes.

I've also not done the biking that I should be doing: it is too wet/windy/wicked out there.

With a Half Ironman one calendar month away, it really is time to move it into gear. I've toyed with the idea of just abandoning that race...and the Regina Beach Olympic distance Triathlon that is one week later...but then what? Do I also let go of the Marathon I'm hoping to run in September...where does it end?

Will taking time off heal me, or will it just heel me like a dog on a leash?

No. It is time. I know I have said this before. Time to get my shit together and start behaving like I actually enjoy this activity.

I have to force myself out of the support van/sag wagon and try to make June the month that I figure where or not I'm doing this, or whether I have to step back and try another strategy...or find another sport.

One of the implications of being run shy is that I have also been reluctant to write and spend time thinking about mytriangle.

So not only have I not missed out of the benefits of my endurance training, I have also not had the outlet I normally have of musing and writing about what I see hear and feel. This too will change.

How can it not change? I'm growing tired of this path of restless false starts and the barren landscape of the DNS lifestyle.