On Sunday, August 19th, I had the opportunity and privilege to start Ironman Timberman 70.3 in Gilford, New Hampshire. 2500+ athletes plunged into the warm waters of the glorious Lake Winnipesaukee some 8 minutes after the men's and women's pro waves. Sunshine and near perfect race conditions made the day that much more pleasing for its participants and spectators alike.
Timberman had been on my radar for a few years after hearing how well organized it was coupled with the idyllic setting of Gilford. Its location was also a smooth four hour drive south from my hometown of Montreal so my travels allowed me to visit family and to a race. My mom joined me for the weekend so, for consistency, we made it an adventure including a post-race hike up Belknap Mountain followed by burgers and watermelon sangria at the much touted Patrick's Pub.
After building up some fitness this past year, a few fun victories at the "Lifesport" Victoria (June) and Vancouver (July) Triathlons as well as a mediocre performance at Lake Stevens 70.3 in mid-July, my engine was idling for a satisfying effort at Timberman. Mentally there was very little that could happen to rattle my cage. I had a sense of confidence in my willingness to endure some serious discomfort. Relatively speaking, racing entails some suffering while facing that sensation with eyes wide open. No matter who you are accepting this discomfort goes with the decision when you sign up for a race if part of your M.O. is to break through the barriers and enter a zone you didn't know existed.
Truth be told, when the gun goes off and I often hear myself saying "is this how awful it is supposed to feel?" or maybe "damn, this hurts" and quite typically "I gotta slow down." Now, I'd like to report that my stronger voice always speaks up and dampens these weak thoughts however that would be a lie. Nonetheless, as I gain more experience, my stronger voice, the confident one, the one that invites pain in, the one that believes anything is possible, the one that supports my every dream and the ones that knows much more than I even fathom, gains more air space and speaks louder with each and every challenge. It says "you got this" or "dig deep, the strength is there" or "do YOUR best, that's all you need to do." When I listen attentively to these grounding words all the tension, anxiety and uncertainty melt away. Focus takes over and determination leads me through a journey, unique every time. Of course, these voices ebb and flow but as time goes on the peaks become far more prominent than the valleys.
Timberman had been on my radar for a few years after hearing how well organized it was coupled with the idyllic setting of Gilford. Its location was also a smooth four hour drive south from my hometown of Montreal so my travels allowed me to visit family and to a race. My mom joined me for the weekend so, for consistency, we made it an adventure including a post-race hike up Belknap Mountain followed by burgers and watermelon sangria at the much touted Patrick's Pub.
After building up some fitness this past year, a few fun victories at the "Lifesport" Victoria (June) and Vancouver (July) Triathlons as well as a mediocre performance at Lake Stevens 70.3 in mid-July, my engine was idling for a satisfying effort at Timberman. Mentally there was very little that could happen to rattle my cage. I had a sense of confidence in my willingness to endure some serious discomfort. Relatively speaking, racing entails some suffering while facing that sensation with eyes wide open. No matter who you are accepting this discomfort goes with the decision when you sign up for a race if part of your M.O. is to break through the barriers and enter a zone you didn't know existed.
Truth be told, when the gun goes off and I often hear myself saying "is this how awful it is supposed to feel?" or maybe "damn, this hurts" and quite typically "I gotta slow down." Now, I'd like to report that my stronger voice always speaks up and dampens these weak thoughts however that would be a lie. Nonetheless, as I gain more experience, my stronger voice, the confident one, the one that invites pain in, the one that believes anything is possible, the one that supports my every dream and the ones that knows much more than I even fathom, gains more air space and speaks louder with each and every challenge. It says "you got this" or "dig deep, the strength is there" or "do YOUR best, that's all you need to do." When I listen attentively to these grounding words all the tension, anxiety and uncertainty melt away. Focus takes over and determination leads me through a journey, unique every time. Of course, these voices ebb and flow but as time goes on the peaks become far more prominent than the valleys.
I could sit here and recount my every stroke and stride of Timberman but oh how boring. If you were hoping to participate in this race I can offer that the venue is stupendous. Consider getting a quaint motel or bungalow on the lake, park near the start on some one's lawn for twenty bucks to avoid the morning shuttle from Gunstock Resort and plan for tons of spectator support, amazing volunteers and home-made ice cream at the finish. The swim start requires some dolphin diving, the bike course has some decent climbs and the run feels like a route you'd choose for a long Sunday jaunt along a shore (apparently Mitt Romney lives close to the run route). The run is two loops, out and back, offering spectators and athletes multiple viewing opportunities.
So instead of telling you how awesome, sometimes ironic and momentarily devastating my race was, I'd rather share how I composed myself the morning of the race. These thoughts were largely inspired by reading some of the Ironman New York recaps (weekend before) along with a plethora of other influences I have witnessed over the course of the past few...years. Admittedly, I have also been reading The Hunger Games trilogy (to avoid reading the Fifty Shades trilogy) and while the plot is unforgiving, the protagonist, Katniss, is a survivor. Her character is creative, skilled, confident, resourceful and extremely passionate. Her aptitude to survive and fight came to mind a few times during the day.
But I digress.
Here are my work in progress thoughts that keep me grounded, focused, calm, motivated and encouraged:
big day ahead. respect it.
do my best as i define that to be.
unleash my best effort.
trust. savour. thrive.
nerves are energy.
nothing to prove.
go beyond.
test my own fitness.
give my best effort every second.
And so, these thoughts led me to 5th place female pro and a PB at this distance. It also led me through a remarkable journey that I shared with my mom and many others that have been a part of my efforts. In the big picture, one race day is only a small stepping stone yet pivotal in that I can refer to it again in the future.
A special call out to Jeff O'Connell that has been a steadfast training partner for years. Of late we have completed a few quality sessions together in the pool, on the road and through the trails. These sessions came to mind not just a few times during the race. Gratitude to the Velvet Hammer is an understatement.
A special call out to Jeff O'Connell that has been a steadfast training partner for years. Of late we have completed a few quality sessions together in the pool, on the road and through the trails. These sessions came to mind not just a few times during the race. Gratitude to the Velvet Hammer is an understatement.
Next up, Vancouver Triathlon on September 3rd followed by Ironman Muskoka 70.3 on September 9th.
Send me your inspiration so I can share with others. Do YOUR Best.
Christine! Congrats on your effort and result. What a great read. Reminds me of my racing days. Which seem like a liftime ago. Remembering dealing with the pain of the effort, and thinking of many ways to justify it, accept it, bury it, bare it, and always, always, somehow rationalise, it. I used to call it "taking a front row seat in the house of pain" :-)
ReplyDeleteBest of luck in the upcoming events in September. We got your back...I mean bike! :)
Cheers,
Gord.
Dizzy Cycles, Vancouver.
you are a wildly inspiring human being Fletcher! thanks for sharing, always. xo, steph
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