The End of an Era

At my very first triathlon (a try-a-tri), after I registered I was given a wristband with my number on it, and also had my race number written on each limb.  At the end of the race I turned the wristband in, but wore my numbers proudly for a few days, claiming I couldn't wash them off.  Really, I just wanted to tell everyone I had completed my first triathlon.  ;)

My second triathlon was a sprint distance.  I still got a wristband and body markings, but now my black wristband had two little white tabs Velcroed onto it.  I had to turn one in after the swim and one before heading out on the run so that I could get my split times.  This way I knew how long each leg took.  Although I didn't know it at the time, Kevin and Anita Miller were busy in the background, calculating everyone's time by hand.

A few years later, there was new excitement - a race (I believe it was Riding Mountain, but I may be wrong) introduced chip timing.  Chip timing had been used for some time in the Manitoba Marathon, but this was a first for MB Triathlon.  Goodbye to remembering little white tabs in the middle of the race.  Hello more accurate results (or so some thought).

However, other things have come along with this technological advancement - lost times and slow time posting, for example.  I'll never forget seeing a friend visibly upset after a Riding Mountain race because her time was gone.  She had completed the race, but there was no record of it.  (They were able to "dig" through the computer and find her results eventually.)  I've seen times messed up because someone crossed the mat at the wrong time, and it was difficult to see what was supposed to be where.  Oh, and if you didn't stay after the race to see your results, forget about finding out until at least a day later, because they simply won't be posted yet.

On the other hand, Kevin and Anita had results posted at the race almost instantaneous with the last person crossing the finish line, unless something went awry.  Kevin came up to me at one race and asked me for my times (I had been keeping my splits with my watch).  It turned out that they had a rookie in the timing crew and someone had pushed the button too many times, registering an extra time.  Within minutes, Kevin had gathered enough information to find the false time, and they were on their way.  No lost times.  To my knowledge, next to no wrong results, and nothing that went unfixed.  Oh, and if you didn't stay after the race to see your results, they were posted on the Tri MB website that afternoon (unless the Millers did not happen to have access to the Internet where they were - then they were up as soon as they did).

Kevin and Anita have been doing race timing for years.  Years and years.  Understandably, they are done.  They don't want to haul the equipment around to every race.  The challenge of getting accurate timing has been met so many times that it doesn't really present a challenge.  They want to race, not time.  Chip timing (though I can't say it's really better) is the new era.  I get that.  At the same time, I sure will miss the quick, accurate results that they have provided consistently, race after race, year after year.  I'll miss the "human touch" of what they do.  Thanks Kevin and Anita for your many years of service to the triathlon community.  Job well done.

The only thing I won't miss is those darn little white tabs...

Consequence-Free Violence?

Last week I watched Slumdog Millionaire for the first time.  I had known of its rating before watching it, but I was still somehow a little surprised when I saw the "R" after the movie was over.  I thought back over the storyline and concluded that it must have been given that rating because of the violence and perhaps the little bit of sexual content as well.  Then I wondered, "Why did the rating surprise me?"  I quickly realized that I was comparing it to other movies, mostly geared towards tween- and teenagers, that in many ways are equally violent.

What made the violence in Slumdog Millionaire different than the impaling of the Green Goblin in Spiderman, or the many battles in Harry Potter?  I don't know that it was any more graphic; however, it was more real.  You don't watch the images of the Bombay Riots and think, "Oh, that could never happen."  Maman disfiguring children so they are worth more to him as beggars (blind singers get more money) turns your stomach and makes you question how humanity can be so cruel.

On the other hand, many PG and PG-13 type movies are rated such for "comic book style violence."  We're not talking about Spidey throwing a punch with a "POW!" in a balloon over the image, though.  It has become full-on violence.  And it is almost celebrated.  Violence solves problems because the good guy always wins.

There's a line in The Incredibles that comes to mind here.  Helen has gone to the island to save her husband, and the kids have stowed away in the jet.  After the plane is shot down and they have made it to shore, she hides Dash and Violet in a cave, telling them to stay out of sight and not be afraid to use their powers.  "You know the bad guys in the movies?  Well, these guys are not like those bad guys.  They do not care that you are children.  They will kill you."  Of course, the kids don't get hurt, and once again, the good guys win.  When Syndrome is sucked into the jet engine because of his cape, it doesn't bring up much emotion.  In fact, none of the violence really does.  But the line is true of the real life bad guys - they really don't care about the children.  They will use them, maim them or kill them - whatever suits their purpose.

Compare to Slumdog Millionaire when Salim kills Maman at point blank.  Rather than an emotionless scene, I remember thinking, "What choice did he really have?"  There was no other way to be free of Maman, though he swore he would leave them be if he spared him.  Was there any way they could trust him?  Not likely.  The police were almost as corrupt as Maman, so going that route wasn't an option.  It still didn't leave a satisfied feeling - more of an empty, hopeless one.

They say exposure to violence can make kids more violent.  I'm sure there is truth to that; however, perhaps it is the almost consequence-free violence that is more at fault.  The stuff that doesn't really happen except for in the movies.  I'll be honest - I let my kids watch those movies.  I am selective, though, as to which ones.  There are many that my 10 and 12 year old kids watch that are still forbidden to my 8-yr. old.  They get frustrated because their friends have seen movies that they haven't.  Of course, I'm more ok with that than they are, hoping that when they are parents that they will understand.

Having said that, I made my son watch Hotel Rwanda after getting sick and tired of hearing him say that he hated his sisters.  I decided he should see what real hate was.  He wasn't quite 10 years old.  The movie impacted him though.  He saw that hate and violence were real, and the consequences devastating.  I'm not saying we should all make our children watch such movies, but maybe letting them see little glimpses of what true evil can do rather than filling their heads with "fun" violence would do a little good.

It Could Happen to You...

You hear the stories.  Some of them even make the papers.  You know it happens, but you don't think it could ever happen to you.  You are (mostly) responsible.  You are attentive.  No, you will not be so stupid.  And then, it happens.  You find yourself in unchartered territory, wondering what happened to all the race volunteers.

I am talking about running off course, naturally.  This is my eighth season racing triathlon.  I know full well that it is the athlete's responsibility to know the race course.  Yes, it is the race organizer's duty to provide a well-marked course, but in the end, the onus is on the participant to know where to go.

Last weekend, I took the girls to Morden to race in the local Kids of Steel.  I have a bit of a personal attachment to that particular race, since that is where I completed my first and only try-a-tri seven years ago (and placed first in the women to boot).  It was there that I fell completely in love with this sport that I have competed in ever since.

Since I had nothing better to do that morning (in other words, Justin wasn't there to keep from getting run over, drowned or otherwise injured), I decided to enter my second try-a-tri and see how much I had bettered my time over the years.

I walked up to Darren Sunday morning and said, "I would like to enter the try-a-tri on the condition that my results are not posted."  Why didn't I want them posted?  Well, the race is designed for newbies as an intro to the sport.  I'm not saying that they won't be fast - I was fully aware that I might get my butt handed to me - but generally speaking those who register are not what you might refer to as elite athletes.  I wasn't there to race against them.  I was there to race against my younger self.  I even equalled the playing field (both between my "competitors" and my former self) by bringing my second best bike and not my tri bike.  Jake is my cyclocross bike, and is not set up to be super speedy on the road.

Jake.  He's speedy, but he's not a tri bike.

We hopped into the water and the horn went off.  After the hardest 300m I ever swam (don't be fooled into thinking try-a-tris are easy - you just have to push harder), I had a nice little lead.  After the bike, it had become comfortable, even though I wasn't feeling particularly well (I blame the heat and the fact that I really hadn't taken in any water to this point).  Oh, did I mention that I wasn't racing against the others?  Well, not officially.  I still wanted to win.  After all, this IS me we're talking about.

Now all I had to do was push myself through 3km of running and I was done.  I took my standard two cups of water at the first aid station (one usually goes straight on my head, the second I drink about half of and then pour the rest on my head as well).  At the second aid station I called out for two cups of water, which the volunteer reached into the back of his truck to get.  To my right I could see Rhonda and Naomi Kitchen crossing the field.  I thought, "Oh, the course must loop around that way."  I turned back to the volunteer, grabbed my water, and kept going.

*Flashback to two years ago.  I'm on the run at Riding Mountain.  I see a sign stating something like "Duathlon 2nd run Turn Right."  I start wondering, "What do I do?  Do I turn?  I'm an Olympic distance triathlete.  It doesn't tell me what to do?"  I turned right.  I all fairness, after two hours of racing, your brain doesn't always function correctly.  Although I took the wrong course, I completed the same distance.  I vowed to make sure I knew my course from then on.*

After about 25 metres I started thinking that the course didn't seem right.  I thought about heading back to make sure but didn't want to lose the time, so I kept on going.  I came to the steep downhill.  "I didn't think this was part of the course."  I kept going.  I hit the golf course.  The road was marked with race directions.  I kept going.  I saw a right turn and figured that must be where it looped.  Golfers quickly informed me I was going the wrong way.  Where was I supposed to go?  Back.  Ok.  I went back.  More golfers.  "Which way am I supposed to be going?"  "That way."  "Past the clubhouse?"  "Yep."  Ok.  I ran.

I reached the town.  I saw markings on the road.  I kept going.  I reached Mountain St.  At this point I knew without a doubt that I was NOT where I was supposed to be.  After all, there were no volunteers handing out water, and I was long overdue.  I saw a couple in a truck.  "What's the fastest way back to the campground...by foot?"  "Well, you go down there and turn left.  Run through the golf course and it will take you there."  Great.  Back the way I came.

Off I went.  Through the golf course, past the clubhouse, up the hill, down the path to the volunteer who had given me two cups of water.  There on the ground was a white arrow pointing to my left, going around an orange pylon, both of which I had missed while focusing on getting my water.  "Water please.  And you forgot to tell me to turn," I joked.  "Oh...I'm SO sorry!"  "Don't worry about it.  I'm only in this for fun anyway!"

On my way back I ran past a couple of volunteers who were directing athletes.  "There you are!  We were wondering where you were!"  "So was I!" I called back as I headed toward the finish line.  Yes, I was supposed to do three 1km loops.  I figured my run would suffice.  (As it turned out, I had run somewhere around 4.5 - 5 km instead).

Needless to say, I did not beat my original time (though I was only about 5-6 min slower).  I had a good laugh at myself, and a good number of others got to laugh at my expense.  That's ok.  Like I said, it's all for fun anyway.

Oh, today I decided to redeem myself and completed a try-a-tri in Carman.  I was appropriately ribbed about making sure I knew the course.  But this time I did it right, and my time was considerably faster.  Didn't come in first place though.  That's ok, too.  Another challenge for another day.

Not As I Do

This is the email I would have sent the Winnipeg Police Service, except for the fact that they don't take complaints via email.  I will be printing it off and bringing it in then, I guess.


To whom it may concern,

Generally speaking, I am happy with the police service that we have in Winnipeg.  I am grateful that, for the most part, our police officers are out there doing their best to ensure public safety.  However, I have become sick and tired of watching officers blatantly violating the laws (in this case, traffic laws) that they ensure everyone else upholds.

In May, I witnessed a police officer driving south down McPhillips, talking on his cell phone, and not with a hands-free device.  I took the unit information down, but never got around to reporting it.  I'm sure I still have it somewhere.

Last night as I was coming home, a police car made a right turn out of the Tim Hortons parking lot onto Hull Ave.  There is a very obvious no right turn sign there (and I would expect the officers are familiar with the area).  They were clearly in no emergency, for they continued down Hull at 40-45km/hr.  They simply couldn't be bothered to obey the traffic laws that they would have eagerly ticketed anyone else for disobeying.

Today, a little over an hour ago, I was walking home from the park with my children.  As I waited for the stragglers across the street, a police unit heading north on St. George approached the four way stop and turned onto Fernwood, without stopping.  It didn't even resemble a stop - they only slowed down to turn.  Again, it was clear that there was no emergency, as their was no sense of urgency in their driving.  This corner is right by St. George School, and it is not uncommon for children to be playing in the area (as mine were at the time).  It is bad enough that the general public does not respect the stop signs at that corner, never mind a police officer who should be setting an example.

I understand that there are times when the police have to break traffic laws in order to do their jobs; however, in none of these situations was that the case.  Rather, those who should be setting the best example are setting the worst.  It certainly does not bring respect upon the profession by those who witness them.

Although (sadly) I don't expect that anything will be done about any of these situations, please inform your officers that they are there to not only ensure others obey the law, but to set an example through their own actions.  It frustrates me that I have to witness this disrespect for the law, and am more or less incapable of doing anything besides write this email.  I would hate to think we live with a "do as I say, not as I do" law enforcement team.

Thank you for your time.

Running the Race - Triathlon and Life

I've said it before - I love triathlon.  I ran another one today.  I ventured into the Olympic distance two races earlier in the season than I usually do.  I don't know why I did, exactly.  It just seemed like the thing to do at the time I was registering.

An Olympic distance triathlon is composed of a 1500m swim, 40km bike and a 10km run.  As the name would suggest, it is the same distance that is run in the Olympics.  Of course, the big difference is that they do it a LOT faster than I do.  Finishing a triathlon is an accomplishment.  For me, the Olympic distance takes about three hours.  The 10k run at the end of the Olympic distance is not an easy one for me.  But it is so good to get to the end and be able to say, "I finished.  And I gave my all."

I normally start my season off with three Sprint races (half the distances), and seriously considered dropping down today.  Then one of my teammates rolled her ankle and needed asked if someone would do a relay with her, running the 10km at the end.  I asked my hubby and he jumped in.  I made some comment about how I would have to see if I could come out far enough ahead of Kathryn to beat the two of them, and suddenly there was no way I was switching races.  Now it was a competition.

It was a good race.  Good weather.  Good people.  It had its more negative moments, the first 20km of the bike, for example - all against wind.  There was one fellow competitor who didn't seem to understand the rule of having to drop out of someone's draft zone before attempting to pass them again.  When I mentioned to her that she had to, as she could get nailed for drafting (a 2-min penalty), she got quite defensive.  As much as it irritated me that she did it, I knew it wasn't going to affect my placing any - anyone who is close to my bike time is a faster runner.  I just thought she should know.  Other than that, I had a wonderful time.

I loved the run today.  I never ran more than 500m without getting some sort of encouragement from someone, whether it was the volunteers, some fans along the way, or fellow competitors.  It felt so good to know so many were cheering for me.  I do the same.  I have always enjoyed encouraging other racers during this final leg, whether they are ahead or behind.  It just feels good.

For years, I had one goal in my races - to see Pat Peacock crack a smile.  Pat's my former triathlon coach and current swim coach.  And the top male age group athlete in the province.  The man is FAST.  Two weeks ago, we were both racing in the first triathlon of the season.  I have started wearing Vibram Five Fingers runners, and Pat likes to tease me a little about them.  He made a good-natured comment as he raced by me, complete with a smile.  Afterwards I told him of my goal and thanked him for helping me reach it.  Today when we met on the run, he flashed the biggest smile ever.  I think that was the moment of my race in many ways, for in a way it embodied the spirit of the whole event - helping other athletes reach their goals (even their silly ones).

I asked Darryl, rather rhetorically I suppose, why I do this to myself.  Three hours of racing takes a lot out of a person.  He responded that I liked the competitive aspect of it, and that triathlon meets me at a level I can compete at.  That is definitely a big part of it.

Then I read his blurb of the day (he emails me every day with his thoughts on a given topic).  He talked about the atmosphere in a race, how it was encouraging, how you could talk to people, and how you went out to do your best knowing there were people behind you.  Yup, that's why I do it.

He also asked why we don't get that same feeling at church.  On the one hand, I know that there are people in my home church as well as in the global church who are there, cheering me on to reach my goals (though they don't ever seem to ask what they are, nor do we tend to set spiritual goals).  On the other, there have been many Sundays that I have walked in and out of my home church without having anyone come up to say hello.  You know, that would never happen at a race.  I could not possibly show up, race and leave without not only one, but tens of people talking to me, encouraging me.  I don't think anyone could.  Newbies show up and have several people who seek to help them make sure they know what to do, where to go, and cheer them towards the finish line.

In the Bible, Paul speaks of running the race - living the Christian life.  I'm not here to knock my fellow believers, but let's learn from this.  Let's challenge each other, encourage each other.  Let's be each other's cheering sections.  Let's stand by each other so that at the end, each one can say, "I have finished the race.  And I gave my all."

Compare and Contrast

Two weekends ago, Caleb and I went out to the Niverville fair.   (Special thanks to Ignite107 for sending us.)  If you ever have the chance, go.  You wouldn't expect it, but those Mennos know how to throw a party.  Good times.  :)

We went on Friday evening and checked out as much of the fair as we could.  Between Caleb and me (though mostly Caleb), we came home with five "stuffies" (funded by Mom, of course).  We went on a few rides.  We caught Matt Falk and Brian "Head" Welch.  Yup, good times.

Our favourite ride (out of the two we actually went on :P) was Spin-Out.  This ride goes round and round and upside-down.  Caleb convinced me to go on.  I wasn't sure this was a good idea at my age, but he insisted, so I appeased him.  We got locked in and all I could think was, "I hope I don't puke."  It started spinning and were turned on our sides.  Every muscle in my body tensed, fighting the forces that were pulling me out of my seat and into the harness.  And then, for some reason, my whole body relaxed.  I still don't know if it was a conscious decision or not, but regardless, it happened.  Suddenly the whole ride took on new meaning.  I closed my eyes and felt like I was flying.  I was almost overcome by a blissful feeling.  Even though I was completely strapped in, I felt free.

We went on this ride three times.  After that, we only had enough tickets for one person to go, so Caleb went on by himself as my friend (who had joined us) and I watched from the side.  I wish I had pictures.  Caleb did exactly what I had done.  I had told him about it, and he was doing the same.  When I could see him, he looked like he was in a state of nirvana, so completely free to move with the ride.  Beside him was a guy enjoying the ride like every other person on there - screaming and with muscles engaged.  There was such a stark difference between the two - both revelling in the experience, but doing so in very opposite ways.  I can still see it in my mind.  I wish I could show it.

The light show was a little less spectacular than U2.

Our (almost) final fair adventure was watching Brian "Head" Welch, formerly of Korn.  Perhaps it was the U2 that they played before the show, or maybe it was the fact that they were the last show I saw, that prompted me to compare the two.  He was playing to a much smaller crowd.  I tried to estimate the numbers, but despite my mathematical skills, I'm not very good at that.  It had the "small show" feeling.  The lights were basic.  The mosh pit moshed, with little concern as to what was going on on stage, other than the fact that music they loved was being played.  Although I know that many were there for love of Brian Welch, I did not get the same "band worship" feeling.  The lyrics of "Save Me from Myself" were powerful, especially as Head dropped to his knees and screamed, "Father!  Thank You!  Father!  I live for You now!  Oh my God, I live for You now!"  I was overcome by awe as I could feel the appreciation and adoration he exhibited.  Sure, he was there to put on a show, but he was also there for so much more.

That's Brian Welch.  I think.  :P

Compare that to the spectacle of U2.  The worship of their followers.  The escorting of Bono et al. on and off the stage.  The sense that they were better than life.  This was good.  It was real.  He was real.  Just another guy, doing what he likes to do.  I'd go again.  I'd even pay.

U2 - The Spectacle and the Thoughts

The Fray on screen

So we saw U2 last night.  I wouldn't call myself a diehard U2 fan, but I have always appreciated them and very much enjoy their music, so when I heard that they were coming, I asked Darryl if he wanted to go.  I'm not sure how much he did, but he got tickets.  And not just cheap seats, either.  These cost more than I would ever pay for something of the like.  There were several times when he asked if we should sell them to help pay for the wedding, but I balked at the suggestion.  Part of me agreed with him that this wasn't a fiscally responsible decision, but another, supposedly bigger part wanted to see what a U2 concert was like.  I figured it was bound to be spectacular.

"The Claw"

The Fray

Spectacular it was.  I wouldn't even know where to begin describing it all, and I'm sure that the journalists who have written it up for the local papers have done a better job than I could, so if you didn't go and are curious, go there.  There were a few thoughts that struck me over the course of the show, however, and I will share these.

Buzzed

Why bother with a light show in an outdoor concert during daylight hours?  The Fray played for the first hour with lights going the whole time.  There's no real effect, and think of the money/power you could save.

Between The Fray and U2, the jumbo (and I mean jumbo) screen was firing off statistics.  One had to do with barrels of oil.  Darryl commented, "I wonder if they'll say how many barrels it took to power all the semis that hauled the show here."  This hit a bit of a chord with me.  Here they are proclaiming the amount of oil we use and the number of days until (they think) the oil resources will be depleted, and they are using somewhere around 100 trucks (from what I heard) to haul all their equipment from one place to another.

Why do people spend obscene amounts of money on a ticket to watch a band, and then proceed to spend even more obscene amounts on beer to get so drunk they'll barely remember the show the next day?

Why don't people make sure their facts are straight, especially if they are going to put them up on a screen for thousands of people to see?  Winipeg?  Really?  (Maybe Whinipeg...)  The state of Manitoba?  At least Bono corrected the spelling error, joking that perhaps the person typing it in had too much wine last night.

Oops

Double oops!

Where do you look?  Anyone who has been at something like this understands the dilemma.  The lights, the screens, the crowd, the band.  So much to take in.  Honestly, I prefer the intimate setting where I can close my eyes and feel the music without thinking that I'm missing something, but that's not what we paid to see.  Wouldn't that be neat though?  To have U2 in Winnipeg for a few weeks, playing small cozy shows.  No huge crews.  No fancy light show.  No, not going to happen, but wow.  That would be incredible.

What draws people to the famous?  I have never been one to get caught up in celebrities.  I have always had the viewpoint that they are just people like everybody else.  Yet if Bono walked one direction, the entire pit crowd shuffled that way to get a better picture.  People clamoured for the flowers he threw out into the crowd, and they'll hold onto them just because he threw them out.  If he said, "Put your hands up!" the crowd obeyed.  I will not claim to have never gotten caught up in a crowd mentality.  I definitely have, and I know the feeling that comes along with it.  I get that.

There was something about last night that hit me, though.  50,000 people in the stadium, most of whom were almost completely mesmerized by the show.
People so star-struck that they would have given almost anything to be the person that got hauled up onto the stage by Bono (though I do admit, that would have been rather cool).

Yep, lights on the mic and jacket

The screen - it expanded down.  Crazy.

The cell phone light show

Was the show worth it?  As I said, it was spectacular.  The amount of money that they put into making it what it was likely necessitated the ticket price, so in that sense, absolutely.  Would I pay that kind of money to go again?  I can't say I would.  Do I regret going?  Not for a second.  I will likely never again see anything of that magnitude.  It truly was incredible.  The toast to Amnesty International was touching, and speaks to the heart of U2.  I appreciate that.  Besides, now I'll always be able to say I was there.

Goodbye!