Spin-stir

hour 1: 24.40 mph avg pace; hour 2: 22.40 mph avg pace; hour 3: 21.2 mph avg pace; hour 4: 22.8 mph avg pace. a serious sweatfest on the computrainer. I hang my shoes on the bolts after the workout and 30 minutes later, I walk by the evilmachine and see a puddle underneath the tip of each shoe. awesome. the sweat’s even coming out of my shoes. I definitely don’t want to lift up my bike shorts that fell with a satisfying little slop on the tile when I peeled them off and dropped ‘em…

It’s a 90 minute run. ‘as you feel’, no set pace. Just time on the legs….

Selected the s2 for today’s 3 hour recovery ride after yesterday’s hilly 4 and 1. 70-odd km at 90 rpm in the small chain ring. Thoroughly content. Perfect way to start a Sunday.

Arrive Caledon at 6:45. Ride 4 hours as one hour warmup at 30+ kph, hit the hill interval (6 minute steep hill) ride up and down it for an hour, then ride rolling hill course for one hour out and back. Then one hour trail run off bike. 5:00 pace avg.
Felt pretty good - next few weeks will be kicking it up a notch for immt …

Warmup to 150 watts (15 min)
5x 30 seconds @ 170-180-190-200-210 watts each
1 min rest
15 min build as 3 min @ 150-155-160-165-170 watts each
2:30 recovery
Ride main set 4x5 as:
- 5 min as 1 min builds of 165-170-175-180-185; 5 min easy;
- 5 min as 2:30 min @ 180 watts; 2:30 min @ 185; 5 min easy;
- 5 min as 2 min @ 180; 2min @ 185; 1 min @ 190; 5 min easy ;
- 5 min as hard as you can (was 210 watts, standing); 5 min easy;
15 min cool down

Killer.
Esp at 5am.
In a good way.

run 7th 18:35 (4:39 pace); bike 2nd 58:36 (30.7km/hr); run 7 20:33 (5:09); t1 1:13, t2 1:16; full time 1:40:10 (3 minutes slower than last year but one place better)

The run is a bit of a nasty one. You start out up a long slow hill of almost 1km, so in the first run you’re ready to take it on but after smashing it on the bike, hitting that uphill out of t2 for the 2nd run is what separates the women from the gals who run in skirts.

It was a beautiful morning (starts late @10am) and got hot with a bit of wind, both front and back, although there were still plenty of disks on the course. It’s also rolling hills, like a mini-muskoka. A big chain ring kinda ride with a focus on your gears that should get you out of the saddle at least twice on the out and back. But at 30k it’s under an hour so it’s a fast bike that has you driving through the knees the whole time. And then, yes, it’s back to ‘that’ run with the long slow uphill and you can see how badly you smashed your legs on the ride by calculating the difference between run1 and run2 pace. I’m thoroughly impressed by all those who kept their balance and rocked their ride while keeping the first and second run consistent. Those are the high achievers…they’ve developed the phenomenal physical and mental discipline to excel at this sport and they have the strategy nailed to deposit what they’ve got and spend it when they need it for the win. As for Me? Well, check the splits…Nuff said.

It’s not entirely what u think. It’s a compliment…true or not, that’s less bad bar line and more medical assessment. It’s basically you look like you kept training over the winter or u managed to have sweated off the ‘winter coat’ that we all get from eating like normal people when race season ends and holiday partying begins. Ahem, if you go for that sort of thing…
And in this race - the first of the season series - it’s all about checking out the competition and facing down the demons on the open road after months in the dark gym/basement/ name ur torture chamber here. Victoria’s ‘Du’ is a 4k run, 30k bike, 4k run and the turnout is impressive for a local sprint series race on our first long weekend of the summer. But in this first race, sizing up is the fourth sport. There’s lots of checking out going on. Racers - tri and du, in this game, everyone plays - looking to see who kept themselves in the trainer, who took it down a notch on speed, who aged up, and who will set the bar with a pace to beat. It’s an opening ritual for competitors but it’s also about competitors who embrace each other in a kindred community. You see friendships re-kindled, hear excited chatter about the pending ‘a’ races on the list, and the ‘b’ and ‘c’ training to be done to get there. People new to the sport are intently listening to tips shared by those with experience and everyone’s breaking out the new gear - from shiny new zipps and disks, to Garmins, to new Trek Concepts and Di2. It’s a starter pistol - the sparking of the race spirit amongst a special society. so to Linda, Stephanie, John, John, Rob, Ivan, Michael - way to smoke a race, boys. And to the two in my age group that beat me - an impressed holler to you two ladies, nice work. Still, it’s race 1 of 7 and I…apparently…have winterized well. So now that game day has started, the game is most certainly on……

Victoria’s du. Monday long weekend. And I am ready to go….PC fake beer: bring it on!

This is my last post on illness - it’s not healthy. The best way for me to manage this infection cocktail is to embrace it and chase it….and then hopefully I outrun it. But first, context: On wed I woke up unable to breathe. That makes sense when you find out my throat had swollen shut. I don’t remember Thursday. But apparently there was no food or bev for a couple days. So on Friday, my doc gave me a slew of antibiotics (not same as last ones) under threat of intravenous feeding tubes. I would have tried to swallow my own arm at that point. I may have demonstrated to prove commitment, however unnecessary. She also said, I promise you, you will be able to sit up overnight. I was skeptical…to be polite. Well wouldn’t you know, I did actually sit up the next day. I could get up for a few hours at a time. I am unfortunately allergic to the meds, so instead of football neck, I have red blotchy itchy face, but she didn’t promise me a Cosmo cover, she promised me air. Wise woman. And the swelling went down enough to breathe on my own. The meds unfortunately also make me nauseous so intake very quickly becomes, well, output, shall we say…. All that to get me to Sunday, 8am, when I am in the yellow corral with 22,000 runners at the most popular running race of the season - with the added gift of a 101 degree fever, several days without fuel, a belly full of a t3, strawberry-banana cefprozil (liquid form, I can’t chew) green tea cocktail, and a wave of nausea chaser, waiting in the rain for the gun to go off. Bang!! I jump. And we’re off. Every step my heart starts to pound harder and I wonder if I will make it to 10 before I see twinkle sparks in the corner of my eyes and pass out. I have to try. My Garmin says 3:53. I am an idiot! I think. yup, that’s short enough to put on a headstone. Or just plain ‘idiot’ would do. I can hear my dad say it as I try to slow down to a manageable pace. My feet are pounding the wet pavement at about 4 pace on day 4 of strep(?)-pneumonia and I’m hearing my dad call me an idiot in my head. My breathing has no cadence. Did the doc say I had an irregular heartbeat too? Or was she just commenting on the pneumonia recovery?

well, no one said I can’t run.

In fact, no one said I shouldn’t run.

well, perhaps no one thought I would run.

Then they’re the idiots. It’s in my DNA. I can’t breathe if I can’t run. O crap. I may be well on my way to making the opposite very true. I check my garmin. I’m at 4:30 and holding. A secret smirk manages to curl up the corner of my lip. No, the truth is my mouth is so dry my lip’s curling in parchment. I can’t swallow. I can’t breathe. I’m hot. If I took my shirt off in the middle of this run I doubt a soul would notice, but what I really want to do is cut over to the side of the road and throw myself onto the ground, curl up in the foetal position and pass out. Maybe then some nice person would throw cold water on me, I think. I’m still fantasizing about lying on the ground passed out when I run by kilo 5 and I realize I have just run straight past an aid station. Idiot! I’m so freakin thirsty. I think I’m also afraid of stopping. My left brain / right brain is having some weird argument that I should run it all the way thru without stopping and then pass out on the finish line. It could be epic. Or I could cut to the side of the road, curl up in a foetal position and pass out now. Yeah. That’s it. Run over there and pass out. Wow, its kilo 6 and the sides of my head are arguing so strongly I can feel myself lilting from one side to another. No, you idiot, I am actually lilting from one side to another. wow, I think I’m going to pass out right here. now that’s epic. Woman Old Enough To Know Better Ruins Sporting Life. ‘Idiot!’ reads headline. I really am dizzy. I start to think maybe this isn’t something I can turn into others’ entertainment - this may be one of the stupidest things I’ve done in my life. Could I actually stop breathing here? What really happens if I pass out mid-stride? Luckily, that ‘seriousness’ passes. I check my watch, I’m about 4:45 pace. My little inside voice says you can walk right now and there’s no shame. You’d be sub-50 and know you’d made the effort. What’s this all about, I think. I am audibly wheezing, although in cadence now, as I slow down to 5 and ask myself the big question. Well, as usual, the big answer hits me, and it’s simpler than you think: this is who I am. I run like I need to breathe. Like I need to keep my commitments. Like I need to work. Like I need to do everything I do at 100%. I can’t live my life as a fraction no matter what I’m faced with. I care about everything I touch. I am 100% committed to doing all I can, every day, to be every thing I want to be. Some days I don’t pass go, some days I hit it out of the park, but every day, I need to try. O, the joy of life experience - I can preach! You don’t need to listen, because you will and should find your own you. For me, if I walk, I let me down. I didn’t plan to walk, I planned to give it all I have. So I try to steady myself from the lilting and the spinning (yes, metaphoric as well as physical) and I. keep. going. Just go one more km at a time. I tell myself there’s only one more, three more times, and there it is…..the finish line, as I round the corner and (in my mind) sprint to the finish. It’s 47:35. 3 and a half minutes slower than my best time. but it is a success. and it’s a real smirk as I cross the finish line.

I grabbed a choco milk and a banana, and yes, I ate it.

and then I did what I suspect few people can imagine doing: I turned around and stared at the incoming runners. I saw their exhilirated faces lite up as they saw the finish line……and…..I was inspired by these enthralled, elated, beautiful runners. there was only one way to celebrate that commitment: I ran. back. to. the. start. 

mostly uphill.

at my own pace.

1:51 total time.

accept.no.fractions!

That is, I am tired after a 90 min run, not that I beat anyone today. But I still win.