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!

The Eye of the Beholder

I remember reading Worthless Women and the Men Who Make Them and thinking how fortunate I am to have the man I do.  He's a good man.  He works hard, he's trustworthy, he's loving.  These are all fantastic qualities that I do not take for granted.  But there is something else that sets him apart.  He makes me feel beautiful.

I once wrote about the opposite - how I had been made to feel ugly as a kid.  In that post I mentioned the first time I remember being told I was beautiful.  It's a powerful statement to hear.  There's something about it that goes deep.  It goes beyond "cute," "pretty" or even "hot."  It is the heart-longing of every woman to be found beautiful.

Darryl has spoken these words to me often.  When I'm all done up to go out.  When we are just sitting and relaxing.  When he has seen me first thing in the morning, in all my bedhead glory.  "Wow.  You're so beautiful."  Every time, his words astound me.  Some times more than others, naturally.  I'll be honest - when he I've just come in from a 2-hr. run, the words make me chuckle.  Not because I question his sincerity, but because they seem out of place, which I suppose makes me believe him all the more.

Society bombards us with their own idea of beauty.  All you have to do is stand in line at the grocery store to catch a glimpse of this.  So many women feel worthless.  Un-beautiful.  So many men gaze at these "beautiful" women, wishing that's what they had.  You know what's simply awesome?  I know for a fact that the current "most beautiful woman in the world" could walk into the room, and she wouldn't warrant more than a glance from Darryl.  She could stand right beside me, she could be completely naked, and his gaze would be locked in mine.  And he would say, "You're the most beautiful thing I have ever seen."  It blows me away.  I hope that never changes.  I have no reason to believe that it will.  Not because of who I am, but because of who he is.

Every time Darryl speaks these words, I believe him a little bit more.  Not so much that I am generically beautiful, but rather that when he looks at me, he sees beauty.  Others may disagree with him - that's fine.  In fact, they should.  They should be enamoured with the beauty of their own love, if they have been granted such.  I hope my life leads others to see beauty in it, but beyond that I do not have need.  I only desire that from one person.

Yes, I am truly fortunate to have what I do, but I am not the only one.  I have seen other men look upon their wives with such adoration that it cannot go unnoticed.  He looks and sees beauty.  She feels it and gives it.  These looks speak more loudly about real love than any words ever could.  What a gift to be able to share this with others.  To be able to speak, without words, the true essence of love.

Each one of us is beautiful, for that is how we are made.

I feel beautiful.  And his words speak more beauty into my life.

Running Au Naturel

I have been absent from here for a really long time.  I was waiting to finish writing about our trip to Tucson, but that seems a little silly at this point.  I had even written some of it up, but I'm not sure what the point of posting it would be now.  So, I'm moving on.

A few weeks ago I attended a MovementU clinic put on by Jessi Stensland.  She talked about a lot of running technique stuff that just made sense.  I won't say that she necessarily encouraged trying barefoot running, but mentioned it briefly.  What she did talk about was the tribe that was studied for the book "Born to Run."  They can run hundreds of miles.  And enjoy it.  And they don't get injured.  Oh, did I mention that they run barefoot in the Mexican mountains?

I was at the point where I needed new runners anyway, and to be honest, running in runners was driving me nuts after the stride changes I had made after Jessi's clinic.  I had researched the various shoes quite a bit, and one thing caught my attention.  In all the reviews I had read (and I read a lot), not one had said that they tried barefoot running and couldn't do it.  Rather I read things like, "My chronic injuries disappeared" and "These are the only shoes I run in now."  Not a single complaint.  How strange.

I thought I may as well at least look into barefoot running shoes.  You may be asking, "Barefoot running shoes?  How the heck can you call it barefoot running if you're wearing shoes?"  These "shoes" are basically protection from the running surface.  That's it.  They allow the muscles to do the cushioning while protecting your feet from sharp rocks, glass, etc.  Kind of like strapping a piece of leather to your foot like many of the running tribes to, except with a little more technology.

After doing my research, I walked into MEC to try a pair.  I slipped on a pair of Vibram Treksports and stood up.  It was truly a transforming experience.  I just felt that this is what shoes should feel like.  Amazing.  I didn't walk out with a pair - I wasn't convinced I was trying the right size and they didn't have a smaller size in the store.  Instead I went online and ordered 8 different pairs of shoes from MEC - free shipping until April 20th - so I could try on what I needed and bring the ones I didn't want back.  My shoes came in on Friday, and I was very excited to try a pair out this morning.

Now these shoes don't provide any cushioning so they recommend that you break them in slowly.  You use muscles in an entirely new way, and you as for any other type of training, you need to increase slowly.  My plan was to go out for about 10 minutes in my Vibrams, and then finish my run in my regular runners.

My Vibram Spints

My first steps were almost like a dream.  Running felt so good.  Truly.  I enjoyed every step, and for those who know me, I'm not really a runner.  After about 5 minutes and a missed turn, I decided to try a little experiment.  I would run the same distance as last week (15.5 km) and see how I felt at the end.  From what I had read, I expected that my calves would get very sore from the added usage.  I was just curious as to what else might hurt after that distance.

I had a fantastic run.  I saw a couple of geese just sitting on the Bishop Grandin Greenway.  They were so close I could have almost touched them as I ran by.  I have heard stories about killer geese.  Either these ones were particularly tame, or those stories are just urban myths.

By around 8km, my calves were starting to get tired.  My solei to be precise.  Everything else, however, felt amazing.

Somewhere in my 11th km, Daniele called me on my cell.  As I was talking to her, I wasn't paying very close attention to where I was running.  Suddenly, I felt myself slip a little.  Ice.  Normally, this would shoot all kinds of adrenaline through my body and thoughts of falling would enter my mind.  This was different though.  Not only do the soles of these shoes have incredible grip, it was like I could feel the ice through them.  I felt completely connected to the ground.

I won't lie.  The last few kilometers were tough.  My solei and feet were tired from hitting the pavement (running on grass alleviated most of the discomfort).  The amazing thing though was that there was no pain.  Not in my knees.  Not in my back.  Nothing.  Other than my overworked muscles, my body felt better than it ever had after a run.

So far, I'm sold.  And you know what?  It makes sense.  After all, human beings have walked and ran for thousands of years with nothing more than a layer of leather or some other material to protect against the elements.  No cushioning.  No heel elevation.  They relied on the muscles to protect the joints.  I don't care where you stand on the creation/evolution debate - we are designed in such a way that this natural cushioning is there.  Weak muscles cause injury.  Weak core - bad back.  My knees were bad until I started running.  (I also initially did some weight training to strengthen the muscles around my knees.)  They don't bother me anymore.  Running shoes do not allow our foot and calf muscles to function they way they are made to work, so why do we wear them?  Because at some point within the last half century or so, someone decided that they would be a good idea.

I'm not going to tell you all that you should go and throw out your runners.  I'm just saying that I truly believe that this is going to work for me.  But I would challenge any of you to give the barefoot runners a shot.  And hey, if it doesn't work for you, at least I can say I heard someone say that they tried and just couldn't run without traditional runners.  As for me, I'm going to enjoy running for a change.

Day #1...continued...

I left you with a bike that wasn’t working in East Saguaro National Park.  When we got back, Chris dropped us off at the hotel so we could shower before going out for supper, and then dropped my bike off at the shop.  Darryl was back after a ride out at East Saguaro, followed by a run.  That man will be a triathlete yet.  ;)  Once I was ready, we went down and met Chris, Rhonda and Naomi to meet Jacquie at El Charro.  If you are in Tucson, go, by the way.  Fantastic food.

“What did they say about my bike?”

“Doesn’t look good...”

Ugh.  I walked into the shop (well, almost ran, actually), and mentioned that they were looking at my bike in the back and I needed to talk to them.

“Go right in.”

“Well, we’ll have to replace the chain.”

“If it’s only the chain, that’s fantastic,” I chirped as I rounded the corner to a couple of blank stares.  “Hi.  That’s my bike.”

They explained that one of the links was about to explode, they suspected as a result of an unusually short chain stay.  They got “lucky” when they stopped spinning the chain, and happened to stop it exactly where they could see the breaking link.  They were not even remotely surprised that it hadn’t been noticed at the shop.  They told me they would fix it that night and I could pick it up at nine the next morning.  Perfect.  Mt. Lemmon ride was scheduled to leave at 10:30.

As a bit of an aside, I don’t believe there was any luck here at all.  I could have chosen to not ride East Saguaro that day.  The chain could have held out for one more ride.  They could have completely missed the faulty link by stopping it at any other point.  I would not have ridden Mt. Lemmon the following day.  Nope.  I don’t think there was luck at all.  It was simply meant to be.  Don’t know exactly why, but I think God wanted me to ride.  Or maybe He just knew how much I wanted to climb it again and figured He’d show me He’s in charge.  Again.  :)

Other parts of day #1:  Delicious supper.  Great talk by Lincoln on Cat and Dog Theology.  Meeting the Whitmore-Cardenas twins, who are absolutely adorable, by the way.  A little visiting.  Bed.

The twins.  Aren't they the cutest?
(I stole this pic, too - thanks Susie!)

The Beginning of Our Travels

It was the end of January - time for my yearly trek down to Arizona to attend International Christian Triathlon Network’s training camp.  This year was ICTN’s 6th training camp, and it was my 5th time going.  Since I’ve already dragged Darryl onto my triathlon team, it only seemed natural to invite him to join me.  Plus, it would be time away with my man.  Doesn’t get much better than that.

At first, we intended to fly, likely out of Grand Forks.  Then after much humming and hawing, we decided it might just be simplest to put our relationship to the ultimate test...

Road Trip

Stone magnets are fun. 

Darryl arrived at my place around 4am on Wednesday morning. (Definitely Darryl’s choice, and since he was driving, I wasn’t about to complain about it.)  We had already loaded the bikes the night before, so we threw my luggage in and off we went. 

Darryl and the Texas state trooper that let him off with a warning.  Note that she's still ready to draw...

Other than fog through most of South Dakota and learning about paying tolls on Oklahoma toll roads, the trip down was fairly uneventful.  Well, there was the time that Darryl got pulled over by a state trooper in Texas.  That was fun.  :)  But even the border crossing guard was friendly.  Just the typical questions like, “What’s the purpose of your trip?”  “What is your relationship?” and “What is your favourite part of the triathlon?” (Of course, this didn’t surprise me much - the American ones are generally quite amicable.  I won’t speak for our Canadian counterparts.)  

American town names fascinate me.

ICTN Camp, Day #1, Friday, January 28

Justin displaying his Canadian pride.
That's Bob and I singing in the background.
(Photo credit to Susie Degan.)

For the first time in its history, camp opened as it always should have - with a resounding, albeit off-tune at times, rendition of Oh Canada, led by diehard American Bob Brubaker and yours truly.  I was amazed at how many joined in, surprised by how many actually knew at least some of the words, and warmed by the sight of Justin Birks, one of the camp’s newest Canadians (along with Darryl - the two of them doubled the representation from last year) standing, hand on his heart, singing along.  Oh that all Canadians had this kind of pride in our country.  

I feel I should share the background story to this event.  Last year, whenever Bob spotted Rhonda or myself, he would sing, at the top of his lungs, “OH CANADA!”  When I asked if he could sing the rest, he could manage the second line, but that was it.  So, on the last day of camp, I wrote out the words for him and told him that I expected him to learn it so we could open camp together the following year.  I had heard that he had not, in fact, followed through, so when I saw him just prior to camp starting at 8am, I walked up to harass him about it.  

“Bob!  I hear you didn’t learn the words to Oh Canada.  I’m disappointed.”

“Terri!  Just wait...” as he ruffled through his papers.  “Here!  I have it!”  And sure enough, there was the paper I had given him last year.  And so we stood there and declared camp open with my national anthem.  What a great experience.

Bob was the first pastor speaker, and as always, challenged us.  Bob’s own story is fantastic, and he approaches life with such vigor it is contagious.  

After Bob was done, we went off into our session of choice.  I listened to Brad Seng and John Shelp talk about practical swim training, mostly because it is the area I have the least confidence in talking to others about, and I know that it is the area people are most nervous about.  Darryl, on the other hand, went to learn about strength training from Kevin Paladino.  Kevin masochistically had his session attendees perform 150 push-ups.  In a row.  Well, kind of.  Push-up to failure, and then a 50m run, then push-ups to failure, 50m run, push-ups to failure...well, you get the picture.  To 150 push-ups.  Apparently Darryl and Troy Soares suffered through side-by-side.  Neither could raise their arms the next day.

For session #2, Darryl and I both attended Brandon Nichol’s nutrition talk.  I even managed to learn something there.  Yay!

After lunch, it was workout time.  I decided to swim, and then do a quick bike out at East Saguaro National Park.  After dealing with logistic issues at the pool (they don’t circle swim, only allow a maximum of two people per lane, and every lane had 1-2 people in already - thankfully a couple of them moved out and let us have the lanes), I got some stroke analysis from J.R. Rosania, then did a quick 10 x 100 set, which unfortunately was all we had time for.

We got back, and since Chris and Naomi (Rhonda’s hubby and daughter) were planning on driving to the park anyway, Rhonda and I decided to load our bikes in their vehicle and just do a quick lap there.  I misunderstood the directions I had been given, so getting out there took a little longer than expected - thank goodness for GPS.  We got there, unloaded, and took off, Rhonda first.  No big deal.  Catching her wouldn’t be a problem.  So I thought.

Then I encountered the first decent climb.  As soon as I put pressure in my pedals, the chain popped off the chain ring.  I hopped off my bike and pulled to the side.  The chain was completely jammed between the ring and the frame.  After about 10 minutes of fighting with the chain, and giving up 2 or 3 times, I finally got it unjammed and back on the ring.  Back on the road.  Down the hill.  Up the hill.  Chain off the ring.  Words I will not repeat.  Chris finally caught up to me with the vehicle.  I told him what was going on, and tried one more time.  No go.  One of my favourite rides done before it started.  

Needless to say I was not impressed, especially because I had taken my bike into the shop twice since the end of July because there was something wrong.  Kevin Miller had suggested a chain issue last summer because of what I was experiencing, but we couldn’t find it, and neither could my bike shop boys.  Now I had no choice other than to bring it into the shop by the hotel and hope they could fix it before Mt. Lemmon the next morning...

To Be Continued...