Life is Good.

Almost seven weeks post surgery.
3 massive screws implanted in my right hip...and they are there for life says my surgeon.
New found time has opened new doors and new experiences.
A change in perspective has been the only option and a saving grace.
Gratitude for my friendships, family and sense of self has been pouring over me.

There is no doubt, I am looking at my toes alot more then I used. With a little buff and polish, they are not as horrible as I've always thought. Life is good.

Break Through

On September 1st I headed out for a run. I was looking forward to it and had been all week. It was going to be a hard session. It was going to tap into the upper end of my threshold. It was going to require a serious play list carefully compiled according to a warm up, workout and cool down. It was key session to savior.


My execution of the workout was near perfect. I hit my speeds and heart rates like clockwork and was reveling in my accomplishment the whole way home. Okay, maybe I felt a small “twinge” in my right hip flexor but that was to be expected after a tough session. Such a minor sensation paled in comparison to the ongoing glut tightness I have endured for years – always on my right side. I almost welcomed tension somewhere else.

Waking up on September 2nd for my first step of the day was cause for concern. That right hip flexor “twinge” was a bit stiff, stiffer than just typical post-workout soreness. I know the difference. Decision: drop the scheduled run in exchange for a swim. The weekend was nearing and so were some key workouts including a 5-hour ride, a long run and a threshold swim. Friday became a rest day in hopes of waking Saturday with vigor and fortitude. Muskoka Half Ironman was a week away; Austin and Miami races were six and seven weeks away. A hip flexor “twinge” was certainly not going to turn into a full-blown injury. I had big plans.

Saturday came and my “twinge” was no better. No biking, no running, just a swim would be in order. I hobbled to the pool with more than just a little soreness. Sunday would need to be another rest day. The days were getting long and my symptoms were anything but subsiding. My walk was becoming a limp with searing pain now inside my hip joint. Surely I just needed to untie all the knots in my muscles. I aggressively stretched, strengthened, rolled out and fired weak muscles. No progress. Concern and confusion were at an all time high.

One week after my initial symptoms, it was time for an x-ray to access the bones and joints. Results: Negative. Treatment: Morphine and Crutches. Could it be trochanteric bursitis? Could a soft tissue injury be this painful? Could a Cortisone Shot cure me? Wishful thinking.

My trip to Ontario was cancelled, as were any hopes of racing again this year when the results from an MRI and CT Scan showed a stress fracture of my femoral neck. The break line was amazingly clean and evident. How it did not show up on an x-ray is anyone’s guess. In fact, I’ve stopped guessing. I suspect a small undetectable split in the bone was always there but during my 10 days of hobbling, stretching, rolling, moving and walking, it spread like a crack on a windshield. The good news (because there is always good news) was the bones were in perfect alignment. Dislodged bones presented an entirely new scenario.

Not one to take an injury passively, I was anywhere but home waiting to get heal. In the preceding 10 days, I’d been to Emergency at UBC Hospital, consumed Codeine like candy, had three physiotherapy appointments, had an intramuscular stimulation (IMS) treatment, met with doctors on four separate occasions, agreed to a cortisone shot for possible Bursitis, and paid for a private X-ray, MRI and CT scan. The CT Scan cracked the code and it was worth every penny.

Allow me to digress. For many years, my team of medical experts in Vancouver has helped me prevent serious damage and rehabilitate from debilitating injury. Each one of them knows my darkest secrets and I owe them much more than just the odd breakthrough performance. For some reason, we all (myself included) had not suspected a broken bone until it was confirmed. I was being treated for soft tissue injury and we were all equally perplexed. I don’t fault any of them for not suspecting a fractured femoral neck. Apparently this type of injury only happens to people who are four times my age. Apparently not.

Ironically, my brother Mark had participated in a 24 Hour Charity Cycling event at Mont Tremblant over the weekend with friends. One of his teammates and close friends was an orthopedic surgeon specializing in Pelvic area. He graciously agreed to look at the image of my CT Scan and within in 5 seconds he called Mark to order me to VGH Emergency for surgery that night. My situation was suddenly “urgent” yet I was in the middle of making salad dressing for dinner with Ruthie! Mark’s tone was not to be questioned so I dropped the garlic, called Ruthie and we made our way to Emergency instead of to my patio for soup and salad.

I must digress yet again and mention a word about Ruthie…selflessly giving, unhesitatingly caring and authentically trusting, only begins to describe her nature and the meaning of her friendship to me. She dropped everything to take me to emergency all the while she too should have been admitted for an infected root canal she had had that SAME DAY. Her father, Dr. Coorperberg, joined us in the waiting room for moral support and to push the bureaucratic envelop a bit. He too had had a medical procedure that day. We were like the Three Stooges awaiting our fate.

Two and a half hours later, I was admitted, questioned, x-rayed, changed, drugged and checked into a single room much unlike the Ritz Carlton but a minor upgrade from the Motel 6. Ruthie was at my side every solitary second except for when she ducked out to retrieve our sushi dinner and fashion magazines. We dined in the casting room amongst plaster and medical supplies and somehow found laughter in every subtle occurrence (a.k.a: fatigue + nerves + girls = Giddy). Once we both knew I was spending the night, she made her way home to her own family and responsibilities.

Surgery was elusively scheduled for Tuesday. Somehow Ruthie made it back to the hospital just in time for a pre-operation farewell. She held my hand while tapping updates on my Blackberry to family and friends. She told me everything would be fine and I believed her.

Emotions flooded over me when I couldn’t see her anymore and the reality of someone playing around with my bones was closing in. Playing, may I add, with bones that were the lifeblood of movement and the hinge of my very important right limb. However, the importance of racing, training and my professional career as a triathlete was dimmed to a shadow in relation to basic mobility and health. It is amazing to me how perspective changes under dire circumstances and how our priorities, values and desires shift when striped of gifts as precious as mobility.

The surgery was a brilliant success. The bones were fused with three pins and the blazing pain was gone from the moment my anesthetic wore off. Post-surgery aches and throbbing persisted but trusty drugs rescued my wincing every time. Meanwhile Ruthie’s infected root canal went on to swell up and take over her lip and right cheek. Her beautiful face was transformed to that of a Fraggal Rock character. Had she not dealt with it I would have been accompanying her to a hospital bed.

My mother arrived from Montreal just as my four-post bed and IV was being rolled back into my Ritz Suite. Butlers and maids were waiting ever so patiently to refill my refreshments (IV) and change my bedding (plastic cover). In fact, they were so gracious and helpful, they didn’t even let me get up to use the Loo. They brought it to me. What a treat.

Thanks to fading anesthetic I was free entertainment for all my visitors with delirious and socially inept chatter and eyes at half-mast. My friends (even the ones I didn’t know I had) contacted me with concern and interest. From down pillows to sushi, books, magazines, flowers, super greens, yoga pants, home made lasagna, copious texts, emails, visits and phone calls and invaluable moments of laughter and tears, there wasn’t a moment to wallow in my sorrow.

Last time I digress. Promise.

A word about the way the universe works…I believe this was meant to happen. The Adjustment Bureau was in full control here. They even sent Angels to watch over me well before my final diagnosis, the surgery and prognosis. They wanted to give me strength before I even knew I would need it. I suspect they choose my coach Jasper Blake to deliver the message because it was he who stabilized my emotional wobbles and enlightened me to how it was going to be and who I needed to emulate. He repeatedly said the present moment is all we have and we must live it with integrity and perspective. “Don’t jump ahead,” he said, “and don’t regret the past. What’s done is done. Be in the now and live it out, as it should be. What lies ahead isn’t within your control so there isn’t any point worrying about it. Be who you aspire to be - authentic, respectful and grounded.” He also told me to think of someone I truly admired and how they would handle this situation. How would the world’s most respected athlete handle being somewhat derailed from regular training and the best laid performance plans? He also said (and always says), “Don’t panic.” Those simple words scream loudly and pointedly to someone as focused and goal driven as myself when I feel a tug at my carpet under foot. Breathing becomes easier without panic.

Jasper’s confidence in me as an individual (with or without my next bike ride) stabilized my emotions and planted my feet firmly on the ground. I knew how I needed to embody this situation and almost enjoy a completely unplanned change in direction and priorities. I also knew this mindset would cause the least amount of stress on others and myself. Having a peace of mind and patience was going to be a critical component to my recovery and neither pity nor negativity was invited to the party.

The number one question my (athletic) friends ask me is whether I am climbing the walls anxious to train. My reply is categorically no. Would I like to be mobile? Yes of course. But at this moment, I am far more inspired to regain my health. My goals have shifted 180 degrees from racing to rebuilding with the same passion and focus as applied to my training. Amazingly, when I gain another inch of mobility in my hip it feels gaining 2 seconds in a 100 meter swim.

What has been the biggest shift as a result of a fractured hip? Likely the newfound time and energy to dedicate to entirely different activities that don’t involve sweating or a heart rate monitor. This new time is also breeding rejuvenation thanks to living a little lazy, sleeping in a little late, chatting endlessly with friends and family, reading entire books, soaking in more movies and watching the grass grow one blade at a time. It’s been years - maybe 20 - since I have lived a little lazy. It is mandatory. It feels wonderful. It has a window. It is a break through.

Off to nap.
Christine

Summer Love & Integrity

Summer Love

 

It’s hard to believe Labor Dar weekend is already here and summer is closing in on us fast. As much as I enjoy the warmth and sunshine of a glorious summer day, I also love our seasons - the ebb and flow of nature, temperatures and daylight hours. Summer seems to be the only season that comes to an abrupt halt. One day it’s hot and sultry, the next day it’s breezy and cool. In the midst of an endless summer streak where day after day brings blue skies, the sun never sleeps, the beaches are packed and freedom of expression is rampant it’s hard not to notice that love is in the air, all around us. Can you feel it?

While our Canadian summer arrived late this year, it was one of my most fulfilling summers in some time. From a training, racing, professional and personal level, I found new heights of engagement, challenge and adventure. Was it the weather? Was it my aging wisdom? Was it a few good results? Perhaps a mixture of everything but likely it was the result of timing, perspective and letting it happen.

The experience of racing is something I have always loved. Building up to race day is a process. It begins with a block of training that is intense and purposeful followed by a taper that calms the body and mind down in preparation for race day. Race day (and the days leading up to it) are filled with emotions and only the grounded few are able to cope with the highs and lows of the stress and excitement surrounding race day. Exhilaration is intensely mixed with uncertainty and confidence. In reality, racing is simply a journey to challenge our fitness. It strengthens our character and provides resilience. There is unsurpassed effort, pacing, fueling, focus, integrity, respect, hopes and pitfalls all of which come together and drive us to a finish line of that given day only to tempt us to the next challenge. A successful race day experience can also provide tremendous satisfaction and fulfillment. For most athletes, myself included, training and racing are true love affairs. The unexpected injections of emotions we didn’t even know existed culminate in so many athletic endeavors. One might say these experiences are addictive. But true love isn’t addictive; it’s authentic, genuine and embodied with integrity. Maybe I am maturing but this feels like true love.

And so, it’s been a busy summer of love since my last post. Jasper Blake (just placed 5th at Ironman Canada) kept me on the program building strength and fitness with a packed race schedule. Victoria Half Ironman (3rd place), Desert Half Ironman (1st place) and Lake Stevens Half Ironman (5th place) filled the calendar nicely. My focus is now on Muskoka Half Ironman on September 11th followed by Austin (October 23rd) and Miami (October 30th). This schedule excites my senses and blends nicely with my perspective and feelings of centeredness, not to mention the adventures of getting to each venue and exploring the area.


But I must continue to share more on the topic of integrity and the weight it should carry more of in all our lives (I am taking notes here)…

Yesterday was a pivotal day for me to have re-emphasized the importance of perspective and approach to something as precious as having the ability to train every day healthily and happily (that can be a tall order). I rode with a friend, Mike Ryan. He is a seasoned rider having been a professional mountain biker and multiple road-riding champion (national and international levels). While in his 50’s, he continues to destroy the young pups in any given field. He does it with humility and integrity…every time. Mike and I have known each other for over 10 years. We met riding and continue to share our passion for sport and adventure. His easy spin is my hard effort any day of the week. He lost his father this week. He was with his dad when he died. He is training with his team today, hard. He is racing Gran Fondo next weekend. He has a V02max of a 25 year old. He brings one water bottle for 5 hour rides. He takes pride in his sport, workmanship and space in the universe. All of this does not go unnoticed. He lives in the present. He keeps his ego in check. He isn’t the centre of attention yet he is centered from within. He has many interests and embodies an old soul. He is grateful and inclusive.


Mike shared some of his insights with me during our ride. They were timely and relevant on so many levels. The most prominent was in relation to integrity. This is how I internalized our discussion and the lessons he taught me climbing the hill out of Furry Creek Golf Club.


No matter what Mike is doing in his life – training, racing, socializing or working, Mike approaches each scenario with integrity. He is relentlessly consistent, honest, truthful and accurate in his actions. He looks after his body and mind so that when the time is right, he can deliver. He knows the difference between comfort and pain. He knows how to hurt and endure. Mike is an amazing speciment with more battle scars than most people walking the streets have combined. He uses all his experiences to live more fully and perform on demand. Whether all those riders trying to drop him on Cypress see this in him doesn’t really matter. He knows.


Mike didn’t try to drop me at any given moment (although he did unknowingly, he then waited). With all his grief from losing his father, he willingly shared little snipets of wisdom. I was listening attentively. As I sit here finishing up this post, I think about the swim I have ahead of me. How can I best approach it with integrity, purpose and love? I think I’ll nap first before contemplating my strategy.


Hope you all had a Summer of Love. Maybe we’ll meet in San Fransico next year for Wildflower “Woodstock” Triathlon and express Free Love.


Christine

Summer Riding

Look Up. See More. Your Energy Will Follow.

Looking from the outside in with no emotional attachment to the outcome or performance, many situations are crystal clear to the spectator. Someone's path may appear ridden with pebbles and roots since their trees were too tall and forest to populated. Some people may be just one step away from a stumble that had they asked you, you would have had all the clarity, wisdom and perspective in the world (and very willing to share it may I add).

When on the inside following your own yellow brick road in hopes of finding Emerald City, it is sometimes impossible to see the man-eating plants and fierce beasts before it is too late. If we are enlightened enough to capture the lessons along the way your chosen path becomes all the more worth it and makes you oh-so much smarter.

Perspective is seeing the bigger picture, is it not? Perspective is when doors open to new possibility and the little things are minimized and belittled. When we look, listen and learn, perspective becomes our fuel and forward momentum is uninhibited. Consider life, minute by minute, with perspective. With perspective, we can manage the details but keep our eye on the distant lofty and tantalizing goal. One little hiccup is meaningless in the grand scheme of things. One windfall doesn't mean we can stop our journey now. Perspective and journey go hand in hand, don't they?

This journal starts with a philosophical slant simply because the past month has been ridden with people, experiences and observations popping up on my yellow brick road offering me signs and signals to see things with a little clarity.
As it is July and the heart of triathlon race season, I find myself unabashedly following the race circuits closely. My motive is part fun and part education. How do professionals get to the podium and how did the race flow. Did they lead from the swim? Did they have a strong run? Who was behind them? How has their season been rolling? What was their strongest leg of the race? How did they get there in the first place? What was their previous race? What's next? What can I take away from this and integrate? If anything.

When I am not in a race, perspective prevails. Would you agree? Bet you could win Hawaii Ironman from your Lazyboy arm chair. Had you been racing you would have attacked on the bike, waited until the second half of the run or practiced faster transitions. The race was lost in transition, right? Yes, we are so smart from the side lines. And yet, there is tremendous learning and observing that takes place from the side lines and if paying attention you might find yourself integrating the lessons to improve your own meager performance the next chance you get. To do so, I would hasard to suggest we must therefore pay attention to the things that matter verses the clutter that stagnates.
Being emotionally unattached and completely unaffected by the outcome are very powerful ways to have perspective. When I started my racing career, this "beginner's mind" depicted was my state. I didn't know what a split was. I didn't know I was racing in an "age category". I didn't know anyone cared or would care about a result. I didn't even know what the Hawaii Ironman was. I recall running my first sub-40 minute 10km in Montreal. Without formal training, a watch, any knowledge of pacing, fueling or course recon and certainly no idea what a "sub-40" meant, I was elated for the purity of the experience. A somewhat more competitive man approached me at the end and said, "wow, you ran sub-40." My "So What?" expression caught him by surprise. The ignorance to times, outcomes and results was bliss. The journey was bliss. Perspective, to be frank, was irrelevant since it was so innate. Until it wasn't anymore and the details started to matter.

My journey to a more competitive lifestyle is not unique. Many others have followed a similar path from the casual weekend warrior to owning a PHD in triathlon gear and becoming a walking encyclopedia for splits and results (of others). While I have played little attention to results (mine or others), I have been side tracked by the art and science of executing a sound, graceful, unchallenged and ideal performance. From my arm chair, an optimum performance takes perspective, and tons of it.
For some unfounded reason, I feel my beginner's mind journey is making a come back thanks to a few simple occasions that have shown up on my jaunt down the YBR. People (friends, coaches, family, therapists), insightful books, racing, travel and most imperatively, observing others with compassion and curiosity has gently nudged me back to see a bigger brighter picture. The details live on but there is no one entity that is the be-all-end-all. Another way of looking at it is to say our circle grows and so does our view.
Since many people read this blog from a triathlon/racing perspective, I will share these two small sporting examples. After Kona 70.3, I did not seem to recover well, physically or emotionally. I had tremendous discomfort in my right hip, was experiencing overwhelming fatigue and felt somewhat depressed. Adrenal suppression perhaps, post-race blues perhaps or a lovely concoction of both coupled with race effort, heat exhaustion and travel. All of which called for rest to rejuvenate. I begrudging did just that - rest - since training was not an option. Hoping to back up Kona with a stellar performance at the Victoria Half Ironman on June 19th was therefore a tall order and from this Lazyboy arm chair, not a realistic request of myself. Pushing all my inner voices aside and bottling up some lingering fatigue, I toed the line in my new Blue Seventy Helix Wetsuit (which contributed to fabulous swim and best leg of the event). Once onto the bike, my mind was unfocused. When I finally caught Sara Gross, I really just wanted to tuck in and chit chat. Where was my edge? Where was my fire? I had to go hunting for it.
Thankfully, I have enough race experience to always stay in the game and race with heart but on this day, it wasn't the effortless flow we athletes all envision to descend upon us. Out on to the run in first, I was searching for my stride. My hips were locked up and my loping gait was stunted. When I came through the first 10km lap, Jasper was encouraging me to relax and turn my legs over a bit faster. Wasn't I looking relaxed? Wasn't my turnover breaking world records? Couldn't he see how damn hard I was working? Apparently his perspective and my experience were worlds apart. Finally as I rounded up the race in 3rd place, thrilled to be finished at all, I stumbled over to Jasper. While proud yet consoling, he knew it was a sub par performance for me. His observation, "good job fletcher. you just looked flat on the run. you looked stiff." I was. And I realized that Jasper (in this instance) was my mirror. We went on to discuss the nuances of my form, training and what might help or what was hindering my run potential. Jasper's educated and skilled observation widened my circle and helped me look at things through a different lens. I needed to address the limitations in my hips, relax my run (and maybe in life?), switch up the order of some workouts and focus on form. Needless to say, I have since been tapping into what is holding me back and diligently unlocking my hips (and my potential?) with dynamic movement, massage, myofascial release and visualization.  Could there is some psychology wrapped into this example? Regardless, I will gracefully spare you my hypothesis. Just consider how locked hips means running nowhere fast (in a race and in life).
The second example of perspective is when I watched Vancouver Half Ironman on July 3rd. A race I was scheduled to do but opted out of since having learned my lesson from the aforementioned experience. Therefore my experience was reversed yet equally powerful to reinforcing more perspective.

Arriving upon a race in progress is like watching battery-powered energy bunnies moving purposely in every direction. It is organized chaos that draws you in. What is motivating everyone to move around so much? Let me in! While interested to know who was racing, I was mostly focused on observing body language, postures, facial expressions, leg cadence, shuffling strides or loping gaits, sources of propulsion, attitudes and subtle changes as the race progressed and fatigue set in.

From my trusty mountain bike, post-shower and nourished, I was the smarter of the bunch. Yup, all spectators were. For the few athletes and friends I zoned in on, it was compelling to observe them. A poised posture, quick cadence and good rotation coupled with a high glance says Speed, Power, Fuel, Strength. Conversely, a plodding gait, stiff shoulders and downward line of vision screamed "get me to the finish line, I'm done."

I found myself thinking, "if only they would look up" (your energy goes where your eyes go), "if only they increased their cadence", "if only they stood up instead of collapsing at the hips." And yet, experience is all relative. Maybe those racers felt a Gazelle-like resemblance moving swiftly at personal best speed's. Maybe their leg cadence was twice as fast as it was last year. Maybe this was their very best effort and if so, perspective becomes irrelevant and encouragement becomes essential. By the looks of how many racers finished with arms in the air and big smiles, the experience opened up a whole new world to them. Either way, observing helped me see a new perspective and if by shouting words of tangible encouragement helped just one racer, we all benefit.
I have been told that we must always look up. Where your eyes go, your energy goes. Consider this option the next time you walk into a stop sign while typing on your blackberry.

Next up, Desert Half Ironman, July 10th, 2011

Christine
@chrisy_fletcher

Hawaii Ironman 70.3. A Trip To Cherish

Outside of being just four short minutes off the win of the Hawaii 70.3 Ironman, this trip was nothing short of perfect. Is it a cliché to say how seductive Island life is and how the climate is so completely conducive to living. In fact, everything about this trip to the Big Island felt like walking through a sanctuary far away from reality, responsibilities and urban big box living.

Upon arrival, the three of us girls (Sarah Strother, Christine Cogger and I) were enveloped by warmth, sunshine, energy and anticipation of race day - Saturday, June 4th. Sarah provided exquisite accommodations at her family’s Keahou villa equipped with a pool, multiple coffee makers, papaya trees, a blender, a BBQ, WiFi and invaluable privacy from everything and everyone. Lounging in her backyard won convincingly over exploring the Hawaiian shops or scuba diving with the turtles. We all vowed to return again for the adventures we opted out of this trip.

The three of us used our 35-mile drives to the equally exquisite race site (The Fairmont Orchid Hotel) to review our individual race strategies, plan our nutrition, consider our race attire and walk through our transitions. Sarah and Christine graciously agreed to join me at the Pro Race meeting at 12p.m. instead of attending their own Age Group meeting at 3p.m. I assured them (over and over) they would blend in, no one would notice, “just come,” I said. How wrong was I. In fact, the complete reverse happened. The Pro meeting was a small group sitting around a boardroom table discussing race logistics for a mere 10 minutes before moving into the politics of professional triathlon racing. They pretended not to mind and were forced to read the race guideline cover to cover.

Wake up time was 3:15 a.m. Departure time was 4:15 a.m. Race start time 7:00 a.m. The entire field of incredibly fit and wiry athletes bolted into the sunrise en masse from the shores of Hapuna Beach. Hapuna is one of Hawaii’s most renowned beaches; known for its beauty, white sand and swimming. Finding Nemo came to mind as we swum over the visible universe of marine life lit by sun rays. Dolphins had accompanied Christine and Sarah’s on Thursday morning during our practice swim but we were pretty sure they would not grace their presence with so many bodies invading their home.

I chose the inside line at the advise of the Kona Aquatics Swim Coach whose attention I caught just before the start. Never without hundreds of bodies around me, I found some clear water and kept my arms turning over at a rhythmic pace. As we were turning the second to last buoy I sighted ahead and caught a glimpse of the beautiful line of swimmers neatly working together to wrap our group around the 1.2-mile circuit. The beach, soft sand, hard concrete and finally a steep hill came all too quickly as we moved from horizontal to vertical in search of our bikes and the second leg of our event. My only focus was to get out of transition and onto the bike course with as much speed and focus as I could.

There was little over thinking before this race. Process, Rest and Perspective were combined to prepare for Saturday. Focus, Quiet Mind and Steadiness were my cues. Focus and steadiness defined my ride. I tapped into an extra gear for the first 30 minutes to catch some of the speedier swimmers but once the climb to Hawi begun, I turned inward and settled in knowing and believing in my pace. The descent was the only place I had a pause to consider gearing. I was riding compact and a 12-25 cassette. On another day, I could have used an 11-23 cassette. I was spinning out and losing a bit of momentum without this extra gear.

Sarah and I caught a glimpse of each other about 75 minutes into the ride. I could only hope that Christine was close by and moving along steadily. The anticipation of hearing about their days was almost a distraction and we weren’t even half way through the race. I had to calm my eagerness to reconnect with them for a few more hours.

Coming into T2 on the Fairmont Orchid grounds was exhilarating. I caught sight of a few gals that I would love to be running ahead of. It gave me a boost that I had ridden up to them and made up ground. The half marathon course was comparable to an obstacle course running straight over the golf fairways (my grandfather, a Golf Pro, would be turning over in his grave), looping us up and around golf cart paths and along a nasty 3-mile false flat road. The culmination of twists, turns and terrain made for slower run times. That’s my story and I am sticking to it.

Not analyzing my energy levels too much was a challenge yet I knew my mental energy was better spent on keeping the legs ticking over. Perseverance and determination themed the run leg for all three of us girls but we all agreed that in the heat of the moment, discomfort, exhaustion and fatigue were at the forefront of our consciousness. While counting my footsteps, my mind would wonder to Sarah and Christine – where were they? Would we see each other on course? Were they having fun? At mile 6, we came through a major artery of the run and Christine and I passed each other running in opposite directions. Chris has near perfect run form - tall, light and compact – which is few and far between. She was also wearing the new Hoka runner, a lightweight minimalist shoe to watch. We exchanged a high five and she shared her precious breath to encourage my effort for the second place gal just 30 seconds ahead.

Sarah would have been easy to spot since she was sporting a colorful new triathlon sports bra and bright pink race belt but we were not meant to cross paths. Instead, I would have to wait to see her smile at the finish line.

The women’s race was close with a few talented age group gals sprinting ahead of the pro’s. In the final mile, I hunted around for an extra gear but there really wasn’t one available. The final stretch was on soft fairway grass and felt like the world was moving in slow motion. I had one gal just seconds ahead of me, 8 to be precise. Although I was gaining, there was just not enough real estate to catch her. I finished up as 3rd Professional Female, four minutes off the win.

The Hawaiian finish line was understated and lush. Without a word to anyone but Greg Welch to acknowledge my salt-caked body and thank the timing chip removers, I carried on through to the massage tables in seek of comfort and a bed to lie down on.

“Christine Cogger from Whistler, Canada” was pumping through the loud speakers within moments of a rub down. We only had time to remove her timing chip and hug in celebration before Sarah came barreling though the finish. They both looked exhilarated and surprisingly fresh. The three of us stumbled out of the finish line chute in anticipation of how to deal with post race emotions and which story to tell each other first. This is the best part of racing. It’s these experiences that we live for. To have this adventure take place in one of the most beautiful places in the world, made it all the more special.

I could never retell the experiences of Christine and Sarah and do them justice although they both had stellar races finishing in the top 15 of their very deep categories. Sarah had visiting the island a few months earlier and rode the course with her husband John. Apparently the winds were howling to the point that even locals were commenting. She and John feared for their lives as the gusts threatened to throw them from their bikes. It’s no wonder that this experience plagued Sarah’s confidence before going into Hawaii 70.3. While the wind did blow on Saturday it was nowhere near the strength of the gust she had experienced during her recon practice ride. As a result, her ride was the highlight save for a slow leak we discovered the next day in her back tire.

Post race can be summarized in the following words: stumble, stiffness, port-o-potties, groans, smiles, celebration, waiting, texting, port-o-potties, giggles, analysis, stories, pride, beer, salt, aloe, texting, bed. I relished hearing about the day over and over again as we reveled in our own game of triathlon trivia.

We had some 36 hours to decompress before a long trek home. It was a trip to cherish and somehow somewhere we will all do it again.

Mahalo.

Christine

Pieces of a Puzzle

Two girlfriends and myself leave on Wednesday, May 31st for the Honu 70.3 Ironman on the Big Island of Hawaii. As usual, it seems an overwhelming task to pack, especially when there is a plane involved.

The heat and humidity will be a shock to our system.  Warm clothing is not what is filling our suitcases. Stuff is. What stuff? And why does it feel like a puzzle to pull it all together? Assembling the pieces that will all fit together on Saturday (and the days leading up to Saturday) is a challenge in and of itself. Isn't the race enough of a challenge? I must admit, however, it is a cathartic process since things get sorted, purged and re-organized for the remainder of the season. Let’s hope.

Walk through this with me.

Let's start with the Garage puzzle. Out must come all the "race gear". Tools are a must especially the ones you think you might not ever need like scissors, zapstraps and really good electrical tape. Race wheels and a spare tire are located. Is the spare fresh, glued and useable? Next, is the time trial helmet still with last year's number glued to the forehead. Also must come my regular helmet since I refuse to ride around town in my TT helmet prior to race day. It’s a thing I have - we look like we are from Mars as it is and I try to lessen this image by at least wearing a regular joe helmet until time matters.

The pieces starts to build as I locate my race belt, flasks, elastic bands, markers, ankle chip bands, cycling shoes, runners and racing flats (both must come), wetsuit or speed suit, goggles x 2, swim cap, race kit x 2, visor x 2, sunglasses x 2, flip flops, water bottles x 2, sunscreen, Vaseline and compression socks. Amazingly, these are only what goes into my bike box. Oh and where is my bike box?

Onto my suitcase - an entirely different masterpiece of misassembled and out of season paraphernalia. Truth be told, I pack a ton of fueling and nutritional products. It gives me comfort to know I need not shop for gels and electrolytes before a race. Vitamins, protein powders and whole food bars are stowed in Ziploc Baggies. Salt tablets, Motivators and Chlorella are succinctly separated and sorted into containers. This process gets started a week out from travel day because more pieces will complete this section of the puzzle.

Clothing is a crap shoot. It's the blue sky and white puffy clouds of the puzzle. Casual or semi-non-casual is all I own so pack what I hope will fit the occasions. Shorts, tank tops and flip-flops are staples. In case we do some little training sessions before race day, I need to look the part.

Moving on - technology. Heart rate monitors and all the associated chargers must be carefully stowed in a protected pocket. Blackberry, Cell phones, IPod, IPad and laptop are coming and so do the cords for such essential obsessions. I'll spare you my cosmetic bag only because it contains the least of my worries. I could leave it behind and might not notice. This is a very different attitude for my bike tools and running shoes. My passport, boarding pass, car rental confirmation and race schedule are printed and waiting to be tucked on the top where I can easily find it along the route. Let's refer to travel documents as the bottom of puzzle, the foundation, since without them I am not going anywhere.

With all these pieces in place, the perimeter of the puzzle is complete. It’s those last few pieces in the centre that will come after a restful sleep and clarity of mind. It’s the small things that make a big difference like leaving two pieces out of a puzzle then framing it. Do you think anyone will notice? If they don’t, you will.

I love a good puzzle. My family would sit for hours working away at fitting pieces into a puzzle with only the odd mutter of satisfaction or frustration. Getting ready for race day right through to the finish line is putting all the pieces together. You may try a few misfits and close encounters only to eventually find the perfect fit. The result is the pure fulfillment of completing a true masterpiece.

Christine

0.25 Hours

Have you seen the biographical adventure film 127 Hours starring James Franco? If not, see it. With nothing but determination to live and embodying a bit of insanity, he cuts off his right arm to free his life from being wedged by a boulder to the side of a canyon wall. This mere act of survival takes place after 127 hours without food, 250 ml's of water and hallucinations that would have left anyone else dead. I was moved by this film. I felt invincible on the one hand yet weak and soft on the other from all the times life has thrown me a curve ball and I buckled. The real life character, Aron Ralston, goes on to survive this experience, savouring precious moments with his family, falls in love and has a family of his own. Nothing was amiss except his right forearm. His heart, mind and soul were/are still intact.


Was this freak of nature the result of overcoming the mental battle? I should say it was indeed. His hallucinations were coupled with powerful visualizations that kept him motivated to live. During the 5 days he is trapped, we see Aron experience passion, excitement, happiness and yearned for human interaction again someday. Through severe blood loss, dehydration and fatigue his mind transported him to new places - swimming with friends, making love, sipping a cold beer, re-enacting a Game Show. This mental transportation seemingly numbed the current reality and sensations that could have prevented another breath.

The day after seeing this film, I had dental surgery. "Ha," I said to my dentist of 35 years, "no need to freeze my gums, pain doesn't scare me." Dr Kay obviously didn't believe me and went on to poke a dagger size needle in my upper left gum. I was weepy and sore for a week.

Come the Oliver Olympic distance triathlon last weekend, I was (as all athletes were) faced with another major challenge: the temperature of the lake water. Nevermind the race itself, it was the glacial temperatures of the water that had me running for the hills. Even writing this makes me feel like a wuss but standing at the race start on Sunday morning, I may have almost opted for a boulder on my arm than to enter the 14 degrees water of little Tuc El Nuit Lake. Spring had not sprung and the algae were floating popsicles.

Damned and determined to stay warm, I wore three bathing caps (including a neoprene) and refused to even dip my toes in the water prior to the Start Gun. A parka, gloves and beanie were waiting for me after the swim (assuming I survived). My plan was to yank, pull and struggle these dry clothes onto my wet body for the bike leg of the race. The race organizer hardly seemed to care that the water was below "normal" temperatures. He was readying the field for the start and giving the last minutes safety tips (was this a joke?). Before my mind would buckle my knees, we were off. The last thing I remember was a friend saying to me, "hope you don't hyperventilate." Yep, okay then.

While I never did warm up, I had the good sense to make light of my petty insecurity about submerging my body in cold water. Was this the worst thing in the world? If Aron Ralston can be stuck in a canyon for 127 hours prior to removing his own arm, I think I can handle 0.25 hours of uncomfortable water flowing through my wetsuit. I think I can.

Once into transition, I had a momentary lapse of reason when I considered riding without my parka, gloves and beanie. I forced myself to stick to my plan and dress accordingly. This did take an additional eternity no matter how swiftly I struggled. I choose warmth over T1 speed and knew it would pay off. I reasoned that a warm body is a fast body.

The rest of the race unfolded as I had hoped. I hunkered into an aero position and never came up for a breather until T2 was in sight. In the lead position and just about to break a sweat (that was how cold the air was), I disrobed to my race suit. Another moment of comedy struck when everyone leaving transition yelled, "I can't feel my feet." Surely 10 km run would take care of that.

With a two loop run course, athletes were able to share in the candy pain and feel the support from the spectators. Tara Lee Marshall and her husband Sean Clarke were hosting a CMS Coaching Training Camp for a handful of their talented athletes. Tara Lee's vocal projection of encouragement went unmatched and she had a serious contingent of athletes to cheer for.

As the finish line neared, feelings of excitement crept in knowing the triathlon season was truly open for play. The swim felt like a distant past. The weather seemed almost pleasant. Thoughts of, "when can we do this again?" jogged around in my imagination. The finish line creates perspective. Accomplishment creates belief.

Aron Ralston's innate capacity to use mental creativity and unwavering determination was/is astounding. He would mock my fear of cold water, as do I (in hindsight).

May we all thrive in our pursuits and seek to find opportunity when initially "it" was an obstacle. Sport gives us the arena to overcome, be great and rise to the challenge. Use your arena today, tomorrow and the day after that.

Next up, Honu 70.3 on June 4th. Shall I rant about the heat next time?

release the brake

Jasper Blake, my coach and mentor, emailed me yesterday as I ready myself for the Oliver Olympic Distance Triathlon on May 15th. He says, "racing is about releasing the brakes and red lining your effort." Racing is supposed to hurt - candy pain I call it or just another way to say, Let It All Hang Out.

What's amazing is that our bodies do what we tell it to. If we say to ourselves go for it, we always do. If we say, take it easy, we always do. Sometimes when en route to a quality session or key event, I wonder with uncertainty if I can muster energy to reach the upper levels of my fitness. Unless suffering from a virus or under very unusual circumstances, I always find the power, strength and effort. When the session or race is over, I often pause for a moment to remind myself that my fitness and ability was there all along. Our bodies are amazing machines when we let go and let it happen with the mind engaged and the heart's soaring passion.

Tomorrow's race will bring out fitness, endurance, strength, speed and fun. Whether swimming in the lake (just shy of glacial temperatures), pumping the legs past glorious vineyards or jaunting through the back roads of Oliver's neighbourhood, the brakes will be off and the uncomfortable effort will dissipate when all is said and done.

The 7 Success Principles of Steve Jobs

When listening to an interview with Carmine Gallo, author of The Innovative Secrets of Steve Jobs, I was overwhelmed with hope, motivation and amazement.

Here is a link to an summary of Steve Jobs 7 Success Principles:
http://blogs.forbes.com/carminegallo/2011/01/04/the-7-success-principles-of-steve-jobs/

Enjoy.

exaggerated compliments

My dearest friend Deanna Wigmore is the maestro behind a blog called A Mother's Tonic www.motherstonic.com. Through her writing and wonderful entries, her followers read about her inner most thoughts - often insightful, sometimes funny, occasionally sentimental but always articulate and intelligent. While educated as a journalist, Deanna has been busy bringing up three beautiful girls and managing her family life for the past 10 years. Thankfully for all of us following her blog she started writing again this year.

Monday's mark the day of the week Deanna features others. This week happens to be me. I am not sure how she convinced me to agree to this or whether her comments are warranted but since it is out there on cyberspace, I will share. http://motherstonic.com/2011/05/09/christine-fletcher-modesty-is-everything-to-this-triathlete/

Figure Out What You Want and Learn How to Ask for It

I heard someone say this quote today. It struck a cord. It relates to anything - career, wealth, relationships, athletic goals, the list is endless. It was in the context of answering "if you had one piece of advice to give someone, what would it be?" The reply was simple, "Figure out what you want and learn how to ask for it."

For some people, myself included, it's a hard thing to do. Ask for help. Ask for what you want. Put your self first. Fulfill your needs. Be clear about what you want. We are notoriously putting ourselves last in line, second guessing our abilities or our value as individuals. It shouldn't be so. Not because we should all be selfishly thinking of ourselves before others but rather so that when we are authentic, confident and clear on who we are, we can better serve and help others as siblings, partners, parents, friends and work colleagues. I find this insight a powerful reminder and clear the way for positive thoughts and human potential.

My feeling confident and energized in and for sport is a living entity in my life. I yearn for days when energy supply for the demand is ample and the mental focus is sharp and unwavering. When my mind forgets the unanswered emails, laundry to be folded or promises to follow through on, a breakthrough workout inevitably takes place. Amazingly, I return to work, life and responsibilities with more clarity and calmness. There is no magic formula for when and how those moments arise but I'm pretty sure they revolve around times when I am rested, well nourished and have recently shared good times with friends and family. Sunshine doesn't hurt either...

There are a few people in my life that are role models for living a life on purpose because they simply know what they want and are going after it. I welcome their vibrancy and company. On the flip side, I want to send this message to a few others that could be bubbling over with potential and opportunity yet are choosing to build barriers and resentments. May this same message get to them someway, somehow. Figure Out What You Want and Learn How to Ask for It.

The Indoor Thing

It's almost Spring outside and yet I still find myself rolling into my garage for a few quality hours on my computrainer. Since I am a fairly social being, I am quite certain this practice is not to hide away and train solo staring endless at concrete and a computer screen but rather to get the job done. It won't be long before I am hitting the sea 2 ski highway and cypress mountain with friends but right now I feel the need for focused workouts eliminating the chance of traffic jams, red lights or fowl weather.

Is there a benefit to staying indoors verses outdoors? Maybe but as long as the list is for positives, there is a list of negatives. It's a personal thing right now. The indoor thing is working for me. Maybe the efficiency of being indoors and close to the action is what I need as I find myself more and more engaged in my family business, Sunice. Maybe I like to be available. Maybe I like to be accessible.

I have outfitted my training space with towels, my ipod (loaded with great podcasts and music), water bottles and a workout. For X time, it is my sanctuary to focus on building my engine and revving my heart rate. I have even taken my running indoors. Treadmills give me feedback and consistency. There is no cheating or deviating from the stride. With a plan in hand, I start up the belt and get the feet turning over.

With all of this focused training, I balance it with outdoor spins and jaunts, playful and recovery in nature. The outdoors is where I am most free and alive. Fresh air and blue sky takes me to another level of gratitude. But the indoors is where I find my focus and mental stamina. It is where I zone in on the task, the effort and the sensation. It is where the work gets done.

Maybe someday I will purely ride for pleasure. Right now, there is pleasure plus specific goals and the indoor thing is working for me. Take it or leave it.

Up Tick

Finally I have had an up tick in my swimming fitness. Geez Louise. Getting 2 seconds from my 100's has been like squeezing a rock for water.

My speed in the pool goes in phases. I am hopeful you can relate. Is it fitness? Is it the other sports we do? Is it the early hours in the pool? Is it technique? Or all of the above. While the exact answer for my fluctuating speed graph isn't totally necessary, life just feels better when my body is moving through the water with ease and fluidity. Swimming 5-6 days a week means the pool and water play an important role in my life.

Tuesday was my "up tick" day. It was also after having a couple of weeks of focusing purely on turning my arms over with power, efficiency and strength instead of focusing on the minute details of high elbow, relaxed hands and perfect head position all of which has given me less speed, less confidence in the water and a bundle of frustration. Technique in swimming is incredibly important and if I could live my life over again I would have included swimming in my sport repertoire as a youngster. Since I was skiing or golfing instead, feel for a golf club or the slopes instead of density of water comes far more naturally to me.

If swimming Masters Competitions was purely my focus, perfecting the elusive swimmers stroke would continue to entice my curiosity. With a bike and run to follow a 2km swim, my stroke needs to be strong, rhythmical and efficient leaving me fresh for the next two thirds of the race. Since turning my attention in my pool workout to "race pace" efforts, high stroke rating and rhythmical turnovers, times are moving in my direction. Funny thing, I am riding and running faster too.

If a swim coach reads this, they will curse my name in vain, I have no doubt. But, if the red needle on the pace clock keeps slowing down (I keep speeding up) then my personalized formula may just be working. Pass it on.

My Promise

I promised myself I would start writing again on my Blog. It's been so many months and each day that passes makes it easier to avoid. Yet, this is a place to share experiences and pass on my passion for sport and life. I am lucky enough to have triathlon in my life and even luckier to experience it racing with the professional field. Every little workout and thought about sports and preparing to tax our bodies is a chance to learn and improve. We must share in this so we all get better and love what we do more and more.

Of late I have been learning about social media and the power of online communication. Faster than a click we can find out if an athlete won an race, an earthquake hit Japan or what the hottest topic is around the world. Amazing. It has changed the way I think about communication and the relevancy of so many exchanges, in person or online. It has also opened up a new community to me and when respected and purposed, online communication has its own etiquette and do's & don't. Although I am very much a neophite, I am fascinated and committed to delving in more and more. At first I was resistant to following topics related to sports and triathlon. Do I really care what Chrissie Wellington had for breakfast? But I sorted through those companies and people I respect and want to learn from (Chrissie is included on that list of people I respect) and read what I want to and leave the rest.

As I prepare for my racing season ahead of 70.3 Ironman's, I'll be using social media, tweeting about topics and things i think are relevant and hope you will too.

Much more to come and thanks for your patience.