A Shifting Perspective ~ Friday, May 15, 2009

This is the longest span of time I have ever let pass since 2005 to write a little bit about my adventures of preparing for an endurance event or comical training escapades. A few times I have asked myself why I willingly chose to cease writing for a few months, why I willingly decided to make other activities a priority and what, I wonder, would motivate me to sit down and write again. I recall the internal shift of pulling inwards and losing interest to share via the written word for others to see, read, and perhaps judge. This shift came right after Ironman Canada 2008. My parents, along with some friends, Britni and Warren Bakk, graciously came to experience the Penticton event unfold – a race I have now done six times. As like most of us, I can now see that something was not right from the get-go - my body was not “clicking.” Maybe I had raced too much already, many I was tired, maybe I was over excited to have my parents watch, or maybe I was just not that into the race? Regardless, it came, went, and made me a stronger person and athlete as a result. Having both my parents there was a real treat and I am hopeful they will come to a few more.

Shortly after Ironman Canada, I had an interesting discussion with an acquaintance that has watched me train and race from afar over the years. He asked if he could make a few suggestions to help my performance (in his opinion). Since I was more intrigued than anything, I spent a considerable amount of time sharing my experiences with this person and listening to his feedback and input. Sometimes a distant observer can offer the most accurate perspective. It was at this point when I decided to operate a bit more internally and keep many of my thoughts to myself until I was ready again to put words on paper. I went on that September to race in the Sooke Half Ironman (http://www.lifesport.ca/) where I place a stunning 2nd next to up and coming talent Haley Cooper.

For most of September and October, I traveled over to Victoria on the weekends to prepare for Ironman Arizona. This was an intense block of high mileage training with Steve Kilshaw and Jasper Blake who were preparing for the same race. Together, we toughed out the Pacific Northwest weather and bonded through epic rides up and down the Patricia Bay Highway. Again, always smarter after the fact, I may have pushed my needle a bit too much during that block and arrived at Ironman Arizona with lingering fatigue which caught up with me on the run. I finished up in the top 10 and ended my season fulfilled and ready for a break from structure.

Another major change was to start working with Client Lien as my coach. Clint is based in Victoria, BC and close friends with Lori Bowden and Peter Reid amongst a multitude of other triathlete types around the world. He once coined himself a competitive athlete but now revels in working with others, sharing his knowledge and passion as a coach, mentor, and the ultimate motivator. Clint’s personality, disposition, and temperament really jives with my character. He is a laid back guy all the while stirring up some great training blocks, encouraging smart efforts and recovery practices. He doesn’t over analyze any situation but is astute enough to read into the subtleties of a training log, conversation, or lagging swim times. Better yet, his interest in his athletes is unconditional, meaning one’s performance or fitness level does not correlate with their worth. His athletes are first and foremost highly valued individuals with depth and integrity. At a very distant second, they are seeking to do their best in sport under his guidance. Clint willingly, without arrogance I might add, gives back to the sport through his endless hours of swim coaching, group rides, and coached track sessions. On occasion I asked myself where this sport be if we didn’t have dedicated people like Clint encouraging a thriving community of participation. And furthermore, do we acknowledge these efforts? Surely the volunteer or coach is putting in the effort because they love what they do and are not looking for validation but it never hurts to express one’s appreciation. As I head out solo for my ride and run I often refer back to Clint’s efforts with admiration, gratitude and respect.

December quickly became January or so it seemed. I was well recovered from any fall racing or training and ready for something different from years past to build my fitness back over the winter months. On January 1st, the stars aligned while snowshoeing up Mont Tremblant. In minus 30 temperatures, my friend and guide, Louis Ludwig, and I were sweating buckets. As my heart rate soared and my lungs burned, there was nowhere else in the world I’d rather have been. And so it was - for the winter months, Nordic skiing and snowshoeing were the sports of choice with only a small amount of running, biking and swimming sprinkled in. The white snow, blue sky, and view from the mountaintop spoke volumes and were timely reminders of how small and meaningless we all are. On many occasions, I was overwhelmed with appreciation and a sense of privileged for these experiences. For some reason the training effects felt a distant second to the main benefit.

On February 22nd, I raced in the Whistler Nordic Ski Loppet that covered 30 km and most of the Nicholas North Golf Course. Being a timid Nordic racer, I started at the back (sound familiar to all you non swimmers?) and let the “fast” girls go. Big mistake. After the first climb, I was stuck behind those that had a good sprint but no endurance. The fun part was herringboning (skis in a “V” quite similar to scrambling up a hill) through others in the narrow trails while working my way into the top 10. Upon finishing this excursion, I realized why Nordic Skiers tend to have the highest V02 max levels of most athletes. Every muscle in the body gets worked with no reprieve.

This race seemed to mark the shift away from winter sports back towards the traditional swimming, biking and running. Fortunately, my dedicated training partner, Britni Bakk, and I were able to link in for some indoor computrainer sessions. We’d set up, as we have for a few years going now, in my unfinished makeshift garage, with a new itunes playlist and some concoction of intervals to pass the time. We were purposefully both on track for Ironman 70.3 California on April 4th, Ironman 70.3 Honu on May 31st followed by Ironman Coeur D’Alene on June 21st.

In my logbook, my training seemed to be coming along and California was scheduled as a season opener to get the cylinders firing. Now that it is over, it was the platform I needed to practice the mental, physical, and organizational steps for my 2009 racing season. From the travel, taper, preparation, transition, and raw exposure during a race, I was left hungry for more after crossing the finish line. As it turned out, the highlight was not the race; it was my travel companion (and second mom), Roslyn Boniface, and our accommodations in Fallbrook, San Diego. The Grierson’s (Jackie & Dennis) are long time golfing companions of my parents from Montreal who have made Southern California their home. They graciously opened the doors of their “guest house” for Ros and I, making us feel like we’d landed in heaven. Perched on top of the rolling hills overlooking endless acres of vineyards and avocado orchards, their home can be likened to a sanctuary. We lounged on their deck with a miniature putting green, infinity pool and mindless magazines at our disposal. Roslyn brought her golf clubs and planned to play at a local golf course while I was resting. As her luck would have it, the Grierson’s already had golf games lined up and included Ros in their foursome at one of the most prestigious courses in Southern California, Pauma Valley Golf Course.

Roslyn was a brilliant wingman and awoke at the crack of dawn to join me on race day. I left her in the very capable hands of Clint and his social crew. Amazingly enough, Jackie and her daughter, Cassandra, arrived just in time for the final stretch of the run. As a memento and expression of our thanks, I left behind my “hat” (a.k.a. helmet), as Jackie liked to call it, a term she will never live down.

My attitude towards specificity training started to shift after the California trip. I was, and still am, open to the workload and dedication to lift my fitness for Honu and Coeur D’Alene. Up until this point, I had been maintaining consistent training and following my program but willingly diverting from the structure of “specificity” in favour of fun, social, or a different sport. I’d maybe opt for a road ride instead of a triathlon ride if it meant I could ride with a group. Or perhaps I would participate in the masters swimming workout when Clint had suggested a straight 4000-meter set. I figured there were a million ways to get fit and if option B was more appealing than option A, I was game. Playtime and sharing experiences with others were (and still are) a high priority for me. Despite adding more structure, I am still of this playful mindset but practice it with a bit more consideration. My roadie friends will have to endure riding with me whilst I am on my TT bike.

It is almost one week until I leave for Hawaii. Steve Lafave, my surrogate brother, is joining me for the race. He’ll be a wonderful energy to have as company and always keep things light and fun. This race is very low priority since we have had two four-week “builds” in the past six weeks. The first two “build” weeks were daunting on paper and approached with trepidation. I sailed through the training (and intensity) without draining the tank dry…until the final two days. The final 48 hours were painful. I was done. Almost to the point of declaring “dysfunctional.” The upside was that I was granted a full week’s recovery prior to starting the second build.

Now in the middle of a second build, I have rediscovered the roads of Whistler and Pemberton. Whistler, an international resort destination for winter and summer travelers, is home of the 2010 Winter Olympic Games. The Sea to Sky community is bustling as they prepare to welcome the onslaught of international visitors and athletes next February. Until then, it is a training haven equipped with arduous mountain climbs, endless rural roads, soft packed technical trails, a 25-meter swimming pool, icy lakes for post training sessions and best of all, some great training partners.

New York New York ~ September 08

After sixteen Ironman, I’ve finally figured out the best way to cope with a performance that was not what you had hoped for as mine was at Ironman Canada on August 24th. The magic formula: a weekend get-away to New York City with your closest friends and family.

Five days after crossing the finish line in Penticton as 11th female professional, 45 minutes behind my time goal and a long shuffle with a slushy gut, I boarded a plane from Montreal with Steve Lafave (a lifelong friend), my brother, Mark, and his wife, Caroline. Having grown up in Montreal, it seemed unfathomable that I had never been to New York with neither my school nor my parents. I had seen images in movies, books, photographs and newscasts during the aftermath of 9/11 but to actually go to a Broadway show, run through Central Park or shop in the endless retail districts of Soho, 5th avenue or Tribeca is an entirely different experience. Was I ever excited to take a chunk out of the Big shiny red Apple!

Regardless of the excitement in heading to New York, the days following Ironman Canada were still filled with familiar thoughts playing through my mind. My thoughts would replay the build up to race day and its unfolding details. As a result, it has taken a long while to write my report since I am still not sure what happened. What I do know for sure is that I was very confident to have an all time best performance. I had a solid depth of fitness, felt rested, mentally fresh, and excited to have the day come together as I had envisioned.

My parents and a few special friends were sharing the experience with me each of whom made huge efforts in traveling to Penticton for race day. Over the past year, my father has been exceptionally busy managing two separate companies located at opposite ends of the Continent, one north of the border and the other south. Him being there was no small feat especially since traveling to Penticton is more cumbersome than a direct flight into Chicago or LA. He was quite disillusioned when I told him my cell phone would not be with me during the race. I had to explain that we would need to last a solid 12 hours without electronic communication.

My parents were chaperoned around the course with Britni and Warren Bakk, seasoned Ironman event people as participant and spectator. They also know the Ironman Canada course like the back of their hand so they were the perfect leaders for my parents. Britni, being someone I have shared many long training days, emotional highs and lows and with whom I share a mutual passion for the sport, is preparing for her Ironman performance in Hawaii in early October. Having her on the sidelines seemed so strange; I wanted to yell, “let’s go for a ride!” Instead, I carried the memories of our training days with me as a reminder to all the great days we spent preparing for our respective Ironman races. Having missed a spot to Kona this year, I will not be sharing in Britni’s experience in a few weeks time but I know much of the work we did together this past year will carry her to a very solid race.

My day began with an enlightening chat with Belinda Granger (the eventual winner of the race). We discussed her season (Ironman China and Roth) as well as her plans prior to Kona. Since she knew she would never win in Kona (so says her coach Brett Sutton), she may as well come to Ironman Canada to win some money before going on to a few more races prior to Hawaii. I was so impressed with her enthusiasm and energy, I promised myself to stay in touch with her after IMC.

With lots of time to spare, the last few minutes was spent with my parents, Britni and Warren. I started right behind Desiree Ficker. Next time I will start next to or in front of others since it is all too easy to lose quick feet if positioned slightly behind the pack once the gun goes off and arms are flailing.

My promise to myself was to ease into the bike and hold back until I saw the 90-mile marker. This is usually where I feel so strong and ready to open things up a bit. Using my power meter as a constant reference, I stayed in my zone, fuelled, and drank all the while keeping my focus having a strong marathon leg. Come 70 miles, I sensed things were not going in the direction that I liked. It could have been sodium, it could have been calories or it could have been pacing but even two weeks later, I am still unsure why these unpleasant signals were popping up. I started to feel like I had to dig for energy whereas I yearned to feel the flow in strength and power that I had felt so many times before. I experimented with a few options, more water, 2 gels, a few salt tabs but nothing helped me strip down to my Super Woman outfit. Nonetheless, I was constantly suspending judgment and staying focused on the marathon leg.

Come T2, my mind was always hopeful things would turn around. Like a training day, the first few minutes of a jog are never comfortable. My stride usually opens up after seven to thirteen minutes; my body slowly forgets about the bike muscles and gets serious about turning my runners over and over. My fuelling menu consisted of Gatorade and Water and I did this same meal every mile. My vision of a galloping horse with rhythm and grace turned quickly to a shuffle – my body gave me no other option.

When I finished, I felt my throat choke up in relief, pain, and gratitude. Gratitude overwhelmed me since finishing was my main goal and by crossing the line, I had in fact done just that with the strength and encouragement of the people there and many more that were sharing this experience through different ways. And even though it was not the performance I prepared for, it is still part of the journey and one that I welcome, love and choose to not live without. It humbles me, strengthens me, and teaches me that I am only scratching the surface of my potential.

I have dealt with the post Ironman phase in many different ways. One thing is certain; I do not train and always try to find something to do that is equally fulfilling yet low stress, non taxing and totally unrelated to triathlon. A spontaneous trip to New York was just the ticket. For 3 days straight, I wore real clothes, carried a real purse, drank copious amounts of wine, and ate dinner after 10:00 p.m. every night. This vibrant city carried any thoughts I was having about my race to a far away place. The locals oozed with pride and energy. Times Square was lit up like a day-time neon dreamland; the cabbies seemingly blended into the architecture, Central Park felt like a sanctuary of clean air and green space, and the structural landmarks were every bit as splendid as portrayed on NBC. Three days of the Big Apple was just enough time to remind me that a beat goes on all over the world regardless of when things feel like the be-all-end-all on the race start line. My weekend get-away was a wonderful dose of perspective. It reminded me how much fun “not caring” about sleep, nutrition, and a schedule can be. It reminded me of my love for the arts, curiosity of new places and appetite for culture.

In fact, the distraction, and intense sensory stimulation generously offered by a city like New York was so refreshing that my enthusiasm to continue my endless pursuit of excellence journey in sport was stronger than ever. Even with two Ironman in me for this year, my mind and body feel like we are just getting going. Over the next few weeks, I’ll be jumping into a few more races and potentially plan for a late fall Ironman in Florida or Arizona.

If only Ironman New York existed I could race then refresh all in one trip. Maybe Ironman Lake Placid is in my future for 2009…

c

Setting The Stages for Ironman Canada 08

We are one week away from Ironman Canada, Penticton, BC. The weatherman reports a sunny day with temperatures rising to +30 degrees Celsius. The weather is something we, the athletes, cannot control so we must all take what Mother Nature delivers. Instead, we look to things that we can control and focus on those critical aspects of preparing for a race, or in my current perspective, preparing for a Play. On Sunday, August 24th, my plan is to act out the character that I have been refining in my training and preparing for in my mind. Everyone around me, including my support team, are all part of the cast and crew with very little influence on my race execution plan and final scene (a.k.a: finish line).

The curtains roll back at 6:45 a.m. for the professional field of triathletes and 7:00 a.m. for the age groupers. What follows will be like any of my long training days – Act One: 2.4 miles of solid steady swimming with a bunch of friends, Act Two: 112 miles of ride paced 100% within myself fueled and hydrated with my favorite treats, and Act Three: 26.2 miles of running with the last few miles (the Grand Finale) being the pinnacle scene of the day.

The other cast members already know their line for race day as I am most certain they have been preparing equally as diligently as I have. I trust they will perform to the very best of their ability and follow their script word for word. Fortunately, what they do is well beyond my control so there is little need to expend energy thinking about other cast members.

With the lessons from my Ironman Coeur D’Alene experience in my back pocket followed by a couple of recovery weeks before building back fitness and endurance on the Ironman Canada course coupled with the awe inspiring performances of Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt at the 2008 Summer Olympic Games, it would seem incomprehensible if I did not have my greatest race this Sunday. This is, by the way, my goal – to have My Greatest Race yet at the Ironman distance. The successful outcome will hinge on a well paced bike leg and first half marathon using all the supporting props, lighting and staging to help get me there. While nothing will be unfamiliar, everything will require trust, patience, and focus.

And, much of that trust, patience, and focus will come from time in Penticton during late July when I had the very impromptu fortune to reconnect with Jasper Blake and link up for our long rides. We would meet at 7:00 a.m. at Starbucks for “one shot, long” as Jasper calls it. There was hardly enough fluid in the cup to wet your palette yet its main purpose was to “giddy up” the body so we could be alert for the next 6 to 7 hours. Jasper generously shared some “Ironman rules” with me (you’d think after 15 of them one would start to catch on…). Two of which I will forever remember: 1) Nothing ever happens quickly in Ironman. Be in control at all times and save surges and power efforts for a short course race. Be strong at the end of the race not at the beginning. 2) Your best race is only within the framework of your fitness (mental and physical). Always race within yourself during an Ironman event. It will never matter who shows up on race day, you can only do what you can do. If you try to do more, you will blow. And since you never know what others will do, stick to your plan.

I have, of course, heard these theories before in different formats and told them to myself many times but for some reason when Jasper said them to me, I heard them as truths and as loud reminders that I needed to abide by these truths on August 24th. He too would be there racing with his new baby, Finlayson, and wife, Jude watching proudly as he will hopefully reclaim his title from 2006.

The first two weeks of August were jam packed with adventures and high quality training. August 6th my mom came for a week’s visit, which is always too short when one considers all the tasks she does to heighten my quality of living, namely stocking the freezer, cleaning up the garden, and creating useful systems around the house. The days were gloriously hot for her stay and I really wanted her to enjoy some of the ocean views during the morning hours. So I enthusiastically invited her to ride my mountain bike along side me for a morning run around Stanley Park (8.8 kilometers). Stanley Park is recognized around the globe as one of the great parks of the world. It is an evergreen oasis of 400 hectares (1,000 acres) close to the Vancouver downtown core but you need to get there early in order to beat the tourist buses that unload by the hundreds. While Mom is a veteran at riding along side while I run, we typically do this when in Florida where the more senior demographic rarely leave their homes and the streets are traffic free. On this particular morning, the crowds on the seawall were abundant and worst yet, I looped us in the WRONG direction around the park. She nearly took out a few roller bladders when coming around some blind corners and got the “lady, you are going the wrong way” glare every so often. Regardless of the directionally challenged navigation on my part, mom got to see the beauty of the coast that I enjoy most mornings. A few days later, I invited her to join me again. She gracious asked a few more specific questions about the length of my run? about the direction of my run? And whether she could have an Advil before hand? She opted to stay home and garden…

My final big weekend of training was August 9-10th. Mom and I traveled over to Qualicum Beach to visit with my Aunty Janet and Uncle Bill. Apparently, Qualicum Beach has the highest retirement population in Canada nesting in its town so it was a no wonder I felt like sleeping all day. We were lucky enough to time our visit when my cousins Paul, Arleigh and their two daughters, Amanda and Melissa were also visit. On our last night, another cousin, Karen, join the party. Paul cooked dinner every single night. It was as though we were staying at a five star hotel. We didn’t even notice him prepare the meals and when dinner was called we thought we’d stepped into a culinary dream. From his recipe-less combinations of spices and herbs to his creations of vegetables, meats and sauces, every morsel was divine. The girls did the clean up which I could see what the unwritten deal of the marvelous meal. I wasn’t arguing!

I was absolutely stunned and thrilled to see this part of Canada. Qualicum Beach is north of Nanaimo on Vancouver Island and sits right on the edge of the Pacific Ocean. I rode along the coast towards Campbell River whilst sight-seeing all the small towns I have only ever heard about like, Fanny Bay (famous for its oysters), Comox and Courtenay. Each town was small, quaint, picturesque, and serene with ocean and beaches bordering its edges and umpteen fresh fruit and vegetable markets. I promised my Aunt and Uncle I would be back for a visit…and maybe the odd long ride too!

So, with one week to go, we IMC athletes are resting up, staying supple, loose, and focusing on having a great race day. Watching Olympic games are a wonderful and inspirational past time, I wish they were on every time I was preparing for an Ironman.

In closure, I thought I would share this link that I read in the magazine Popular Science. And while Andy Potts did not make the Olympic team it is an excellent overview of his training method and focus.

http://www.popsci.com/entertainment-gaming/article/2008-07/making-olympian


The online Ticket Master opens at 6:45 a.m. @ http://www.ironmanlive.com/

Chrissy Fletcher
(My Stage Name)

Ironman Coeur D'Alene June 2008

So much boils down to numbers in a race. How many competitors crossed the finish line before you? What was your wattage on the bike? Your heart rate and pace per mile on the run? Your time in transition? These are the figures we pore over as triathletes. Yet at Coeur D’Alene, the most critical numbers I had to contend with were in the medical tent: five bags of saline solution, and blood pressure of 70 over 50.

Those are the stats that I will learn from in this race. As for the other data, I finished the Ironman in eighth place, with a time of 10 hours and 30ish minutes. This is well longer than I was hoping for but I am permanently suspending all judgments of my race and time and using the wise perspective and comments of my coach to help me move on to the next race.

Every time I write about a race, I always talk about “my” race. In truth, the race itself pales in comparison to the people and the process involved in getting to a start line. In this report, I want to talk about all the support I receive, both before and after a race.

The two days leading up to the race, I spent with Kevin Purcell, my coach, as well as Geoffrey Glotman, my friend and sponsor. Both were racing the Ironman, Kevin for his twentieth time and Geoffrey for his first. We tested out the lake together since it was reportedly 55 degrees Fahrenheit. We were equipped with new Aqua Socks, neoprene caps, and a whole lot of courage. After the initial shock to the face, our bodies adapted and we were pleasantly surprised after a 20-minute splash. It was really my Nineteen Frequency wetsuit that did the trick. It not only felt like a soft silk shell on my body but also kept me toasty warm after the first 5 minutes.

I was most excited for Geoffrey’s first attempt at an Ironman. It had been many months that he was “on the fence” about actually racing the distance. He purchased a new Time Trial bike and jammed in some added training hours to his already hectic schedule. He was out riding on the wet and cool days, swam with no additional motivation from a masters group, and ran the necessary miles to pull off the Ironman distance. He was practicing his nutrition plan, preparing his gear and wrapping his mind around this first-time challenge, all while running a hugely successful engineering firm, renovating his office, attending social functions, playing a pivotal leadership role in the community, managing the Glotman Simpson Cycling Team and being a superstar husband to Myriam and dad to three teenagers. Despite Geoff’s self-deprecating sense of humor, we all knew this feat was going to change his life and solidify his “superhuman” status forever. Geoffrey had his parents, wife Myriam, his nephew Benjamin, as well as his son Harrison and daughter Isabelle (missing was daughter Beckie), to cheer and greet him at the finish line. Nothing could be better than a crowd like that to welcome him through in just over 13 hours.

Kevin’s experience was not the bang-on day he was hoping for, since after two flat tires and long waits for mechanical assistance he decided to call it a day. Kevin is a veteran in the world of Ironman racing; he knew the questions to ask himself in order to make the best decision for the day. It takes courage to end something midway when you have only considered 100% completion as the option. It takes a definitive mind, determination, and self-kindness to know that whatever decision is made, it was the best one and no looking back because there will be more races ahead. His race exit was a bonus for me because I saw him out on the course as well as at the finish.

With Kevin’s guidance, I can honestly say my preparation and taper felt spot on. My stomach was filled with excited butterflies all week as I readied myself to expend some valuable energy. I could tell I was primed to race my best. My head must have been overflowing with thoughts while still in Vancouver—when I packed two bikes, bins of gear, helmets, nutrition products, groceries and gifts into my little car on the Wednesday before the race, I forgot to include my suitcase. It sat patiently at my back gate waiting to be stacked amongst the others while I drove away, completely oblivious. My only saving grace was that my upstairs neighbour Monica found it when storing away my garbage bin later that day. Three and a half hours into my drive, my cell phone rings with her questioning voice, “Did you forget your suitcase?” Oh My Gawd! Sheer panic filled my entire body. My stars were lined up since Geoffrey was flying in the next day and agreed to check an extra piece. This good deed surely contributed to his impressive race!

After the unnerving phone call from Monica, I peered back into the depths of my car to make sure I did in fact pack my TT Specialized Helmet. Yes, it was there. My Specialized TT Shoes were in, as was my Specialized Transition. Good to go!

Should anyone take note of what most triathletes lug to races it would be cause for a sanity check-up. My bins were packed with training aids, nutritional supplements, tools and wrenches, and most importantly my trusty Trigger Point massage kit. I take at least one piece of this 4-part kit with me everywhere when I travel and every room in my house has a collection of Trigger Point options on the floor. Be it my piriformis, quads, calves or hamstrings, this kit has been my saving grace. Adam Janke, my running and cycling custom orthotics sponsor, supplies the Canadian market with the TP Massage product. He was at Coeur D’Alene assisting Cassidy Philips (founder) at the TP Massage Tent during the pre-race Expo hours. I cannot say enough positive comments about how my running gait, alignment and reduced susceptibility to injury has improved since working with Adam. I am a firm believer in his practice and the importance of addressing one’s alignment from the feet up. Adam was there on race day, cheering loudly and enthusiastically. I would have loved to race that day with all the poise his support has given me.

Six days prior to race day, I had my one-hour joint mobility session with Carmen Bott. She is the ultimate expert at preparing athletes for a big event and even more so, for a season of performance. I have been working with Carmen since November 2007. Her pliability to my program has been the only reason we are a successful team. Her knowledge and expertise in athlete performance and strength conditioning is world class and world renowned. She backs herself up with an impressive team of Human Motion coaches from a diverse background of specialties that, together, make her company a diamond in the rough. Carmen spent the hour with me loosening up my body and oiling my joints, something I try to do on a daily basis now but it is always much better with her guidance.

The two people who played a pivotal role in keeping my frame injury-free while addressing some chronic symptoms as well as a few acute flare-ups were Tyler Hunsberger and Harry Toor. Tyler is a topnotch chiropractor specializing in Active Release Therapy at Broadway & Burrard Chiropractic and Harry is a physiotherapist specializing in sports therapy and a partner of Envision Physiotherapy. Every week, these two magicians would listen to me as I claimed to have “figured out” what the issue was once and for all! I would have a new hypothesis on why my glutes were tight or why my hamstrings were in knots. I even went so far as to buy my own muscular skeletal map so I could speak directly to the muscles, joints, and ligaments at play. As diplomatic and understanding professionals, they would nod their heads, validate my theory, and get the treatment underway. Needless to say, my theories were rarely definitive and thankfully I arrived at race day in perfect form.

While my family was not able to come to Coeur D’Alene, I knew they were with me in spirit. It has been a busy year for our Montreal-based sporting goods company, Fletcher Leisure Group, as we have recently launched a new golf brand, AUR, signed on Sunice as a licensee of the 2010 Winter Olympic Games, and formed a new relationship with our US partners Ashworth to have the distribution rights to sell Sunice in the US. My brother is at the helm of Fletcher as President (and jack of all trades) while my father has taken on the CEO role of Ashworth Inc., based in Carlsbad, California. Despite their crazy schedules of traveling back and forth across the country and preparing for major sales meeting, they both called before my race, to make sure I knew where to send the cheque should I place in the “money.”

Being in the golf business for 40 odd years, my father’s perspective of triathlon is a fairly accurate and pragmatic one. He believes this is a “poor man’s sport” since the top professionals don’t even come close to what a golf professional makes for just showing up, never mind actually playing a round. He sees how hard triathletes train, the investment in equipment, the sacrifices made to be rested, recovered and primed for training sessions and yet, as he noted post-Oceanside 70.3, triathletes are so grossly undervalued in the eyes of sponsors and corporations. Golf, on the other hand, gets tremendous media exposure and corporate support, which feeds into ridiculously generous pay cheques as well as sport development programs and a rich legacy and heritage. There is, however, a bright future for the relatively young sport of triathlon, with some of the six-digit paychecks given out at the Lifetime Fitness Series races. We are also seeing an exponential increase in amateur participation and significant momentum from new programs such as Irongirl and Kids of Steel. Thankfully we triathletes are motivated by rewards other than money!

So far, I have touched on my support network before a race. Yet, especially at this past Ironman, I realized how lucky I am to have friends rally around me after the race, when my tank is empty. I’m so grateful for the patience, care and support that Kathryn Gardiner, Monica Marchenski and Marc Perrot (my Ironman Crew) dished out selflessly and in generous quantities as I made my way from the IV bag in transition to the comforts of my home-stay bed some 10 miles away. They did so much more than just collect my gear bags, bike, wetsuit and helmet. It even went beyond holding a plastic bag for me as I upchucked my insides whilst perched on the edge of Monica’s BMW front seat (meanwhile Monica is trying to buy me a piece of pizza and pop!). They were all one step ahead of what I might need to feel better: a warm face towel, clean clothes, fresh air, flip-flops, or peace and quiet. In my humble state of discomfort and queasiness, all I could think was “thanks guys …I’ll be better tomorrow to thank you appropriately.”

When we arrived back to my home stay after the race, we were greeted with such authenticity and interest from our home-stay hosts, Marie and Tim. I was of course embarrassed (without reason) to expose such an ailing side of myself to these gracious people who opened their home to us and made everything so comfortable in the lead-up to race. Monica took the helm and managed the social graces on my behalf. The following day offered a chance for me to visit, as they were both very curious about my experience.

I have stayed at many home stays in the past, be it for cycling races or triathlons. I am always amazed at the willingness of people to open their doors, offer a bed and share their private space with not only complete strangers but athletes complete with greasy bikes, surplus equipment, strange nutritional products and inhuman wake-up times on race morning. Isn’t this a disruption to their life? Or perhaps they enjoy the interaction of meeting new and interesting people from all over the world. Well, Marie and Tim take home-stay generosity to a new level. As I drove up to their peaceful lake-view home in Post Falls, Idaho, I could tell immediately they lived for the moment and made every effort to make their home a sanctuary, a place of comfort and beauty. Monica, Marc and I shared the lower floor with a panoramic view of the lake. We could escape down to their dock, snuggle on the couch, and watch their massive flat-screen TV or relax in the hot tub not two feet away from my bedroom. Had the race not been scheduled, we may have cracked open a bottle of wine or two from their wine rack.

I suspect in a matter of days, Marie and Tim will have framed our picture and added it to their Wall of Fame next to other framed photographs of athletes they have hosted as well as endless pictures of friends and family. We are honored to now hang where many other great memories rest in their home.

It took three full days after Ironman Coeur D’Alene for the swelling in my ankles to flush out and any severe stiffness to subside. I reflected on my race, on my own time and with friends and family. Sometimes I cannot find the words to describe the experience as I would like my gracious listeners to understand it. It is truly a march of personal determination and search for excellence. I look for something in the lives of my listeners to relate my drive and passion to and, like magic, we have a connection and a newfound bond.

As Eddie Fadel (President of Ashworth and my father’s roommate in San Diego) would say, when he was 21 years old he knew everything, when he was 31 years old he knew almost everything, when he was 41 years old he knew only a little bit and now that he is 51 years old he realizes he knows nothing but he continues to learn in hopes of never repeating the same mistake twice.

Since June 22nd, I too have learned and hope to not make the same mistakes twice. I am humbled yet wiser, and much more motivated to seek excellence through learning from the past, training hard every day, taking care of recovery and believing in the possibility of true excellence.

Christine
cfletcher@fletcherlg.com

Countdown to Ironman Coeur D'Alene 08

Twenty-two days until Ironman Coeur D’Alene. I hadn’t really been counting the days down this time, until I realized today that it was the first of June. When did that happen? Has spring arrived yet? It sure didn’t feel like it today in Vancouver, at the 137-metre outdoor saltwater pool a few blocks away, by Kits Beach. This pool is usually full of sunbathers soaking up the rays on the deck while the odd serious swimmer hops in for a lake-like simulation swim. Given how big it is, the pool needs a series of hot-weather days to warm up its massive body of water to an acceptable 78 degrees. Britni and I hazard to guess it was 73 at best. We contemplated using our wetsuits, but realized that this would surely catapult us into tri-geek territory. We heard many people using the “getting used to swimming in my wetsuit” excuse but we agreed that it was the sissy way of swimming in this outdoor pool. With the wind howling at our backs, we opted to play it cool and jump in sans protection other than two swim caps (to keep the heat in). Needless to say, we suffered dearly but we sure looked tough—I hope!

Outside of swimming at Kits Pool today and two half Ironman races this spring, I will not have had an authentic opportunity to swim in open water as practice prior to Coeur D’Alene. Since I feel very comfortable in my Nineteen Frequency wetsuit and love the open water, I am more than confident in my swim preparations for race day. For the record, I’ve given myself an “A” for effort in attempted open-water swimming, since three weekends ago, Monica Marchenski and I were in Penticton for some Ironman specific training and woke at 4 am to eat breakfast, swim an hour in Lake Okanagan, ride the IM Canada and polish the day off with a run. We arrived at the lake at 6:30 am, lathered our bodies with glide, pulled on our wetsuits, warmed up our shoulders and psyched ourselves up for the lake swim only to discover that after walking in up to our ankles the water temperature was glacial, and in our opinion way too cold to even consider a swim. We guessed it to be maybe 6 or 7 degrees Celsius. The onlookers had a good laugh at us “triathletes” as we sheepishly unzipped our suits of armour and clambered back into the car. This episode put us on our bikes an hour earlier, which meant we were poolside and recovering by early afternoon.

After Napa Half Ironman on May 3rd, I took some time to recover before the Ironman build-up. As luck would have it, I got to go home to Montreal and celebrate my father’s 65th birthday with my family, including my niece and nephew, Jacqueline and Harrison (Jackie & Harry). Spending time with these two quickly reminds me that life is a game and the only things that really matter are sharing with others, eating our vegetables and getting to bed by 7:30 every night. It matters more that we are having fun than how we look. It matters more to be curious to learn than to have all the answers (although Jackie is usually curious and knows the answer). It matters more to laugh out loud along the way than to get to the destination miserable. My visit with them reminded me of my passion for this sport and all the people that I am surrounded by while training and racing.

Once back to Vancouver, my training ramped up and I was ready for it! The crux of my preparations has focused on a few key workouts each week, set up by my coach. After a long rainy and cool winter, it was definitely time to train outdoors, rain or shine. My favourite training destination is Penticton, the home of Ironman Canada, and some of the best cycling routes. Monica, also racing in Coeur D’Alene, and I made the trek to Penticton two weekends in a row for some focused hours of riding, running, (no swimming) and recovering. The first trip was hot, windy, and sunny. We had many co-triathletes to keep us company during the ride. It seems “our friends” were participating in a camp with Kevin Cutjar and Barb Scatchard. Since this was a supported ride, they had a van meeting them at various spots along the way with cold water and fueling options. Monica and I, being hard-core, fended for ourselves. The weather was so hot and the wind so strong, we ran out of fluids much earlier than anticipated on the backside of the ride. This forced us into Keremeos for a water and food stop. I think we both consumed a full bag of pretzels each along with Coke, Smarties and anything else we could find that looked appealing. This rest stop did the trick and gave us a second wind for the infamous Yellow Lake climb. Monica had a very strong ride, and we managed to stay together for almost the entire day. We were in sync with each other and communicated with body language. We both knew we would review the nuances of the day over dinner that night and enjoy reminiscing about our personal ebbs and flows during our 6 hours of cycling.

We followed a similar travel program the following weekend, except we upgraded our accommodations and Monica improved our meal preparations tenfold. Let me just say we were dining like queens, with homemade nibbles for all our snacks! The purpose of my ride was far most focused than the week prior and Monica was onboard. We agreed to ride as continuously as possible for 180 kms with only the shortest stops for water and a pee. Isn’t that how we race, after all? We hung together for the first two hours and arrived at Richter’s Pass 20 minutes quicker than the previous time! This was encouraging— we were on track for a solid uninterrupted ride. Monica was again in fine form but chose to make her own way at her own speed … as did I. We reconvened for only the shortest time a few hours later, suffering separation anxiety, but managed to say goodbye until the end. I experienced but one small hiccup of low fluids at miles 95-100 with no store in sight—only vineyards and farmland. Once regrouped, thanks to the water tap at Yellow Lake, I was back on track and riding strong to the end with a sweet short run to top off a great day.

I would like to extend sincere thanks to Monica for her driving. She drove 90% of the time, which allowed me to do a bit of computer work in the passenger seat.

The preparation phase of building to an Ironman is when I do quality thinking about ongoing projects, lifetime dreams, friendships, family, and my sport. I always end a training session feeling richer in thought and more motivated to “do” than before. Sometimes I wish I had a scratch pad and pen with me to jot down quick thoughts. I went so far as to create acronyms with the first letter of each person I was thinking about during my last 2-hour jaunt to ensure I would follow up with them. But when I am out for a focused training session, my whole existence is concentrated on the effort, the experience, and the flow of the movement. After those sessions, I find myself refreshed and fulfilled, with a sense of clarity to address life, work and responsibilities.

With three weeks to go until my 2008 Ironman event, I can wholeheartedly say my preparation and learning have been the best to date in my professional career as a triathlete. This past weekend I rode with Britni for the first time in a few weeks. We met in Lynden, Washington and climbed Mt Baker. The round trip was 6 hours and close to 180 kms. Fortunately we were both in the same mind space of enjoying a long ride together with no sets, no intervals, no tempo work—just ride, chat, listen to music, take in the scenery and bank the endurance. We did just that and had a few good laughs. We did end the weekend with a cold swim in Kits Pool, as mentioned, but we chalked it up to “flushing” more than a workout.

I would like to finish by sharing an email from my coach Kevin Purcell, who has just returned home from Italy after training under the founder of Active Release Technique (ART), Mike Leahy. It certainly gave me food for thought.

Kevin writes:

“The seminar is in Italy and while we have been quite busy in the classroom I have been able to get in a couple rides (some rain, some sun) in the Tuscan countryside. I look forward to sharing details and perhaps a couple photos. I do appreciate your patience as communication has been slowed and phone time almost nil. Some of us are already planning some time together to discuss key sessions or post race briefings as well as training nuances that always occur as we juggle work, family and sport. Lets keep working to communicate.

Interesting notes on communicating:

I don't speak Italian. However I get loads of information from eyes, hands, tones, inflections, smiles/frowns, head nods etc. I can tell when I have made someone happy or when I leaned my bike against the wrong building! The words are not always clear—so communication is not always perfect.

For us (you and I), we communicate so much via e-mail, it is important that we be extra vigilant in our efforts to share ideas, theories, feelings, concerns, pleasures, humor and frustrations. E-mail is an acquired skill. Why? Because while the words are crystal clear, we are absent the hands, the smiles, head nods, the tone or inflections that make communication for me in Italy possible at all.

One arena has fewer words / one arena fewer clues. Very important that you all remember we are on the same team and pulling in the same direction. I work for you and am here to help solve the puzzles we face in sport as they best fit into your busy daily lives. That puzzle is different for each of us and is why I enjoy my work so much. Never assume my meaning if you have questions. Always ask for clarification. Sometimes I think I am funny and you may think I am impatient. Much can be lost if we are not careful to consider the possibilities. The language barrier I have faced this week in Italy reminds me of these facts.”

Stay tuned & thank you!Christine

Napa Valley Half Ironman May 2008

Welcome to racing in the Napa Valley: as we toed the start line, the race director announced that the only flat part of this course was going to be the lake, so we’d better enjoy it. The bike and run courses would be taking us either up or down. It was good to start my second half of the season with a laugh! The race took place on the outskirts of Napa Valley, California. My upstairs neighbour and dear friend Monica and her boyfriend Marc Perrot were my partners in crime for the weekend. With three bike boxes and overstuffed weekend duffel bags in tow, we turned some heads at the airport. Most people thought we were musicians traveling with a harp
or trombone. It was essential to rent the most transformable minivan we could find, and Chrysler came through for us! That Lee Iacocca really knew a thing or two about designing cars and vans. We stayed in a town called Fairfield, 12 miles outside of quaint Napa, and $300 a night cheaper. Wendy’s, MacDonald’s, and Denny’s were the only dining options around, but we quickly located a trusty Trader Joe’s store and brought dinner back to the comforts of our hotel room. I have met my eating match in Marc—he can definitely put back the calories. I was impressed with his attention to fueling and topping up his stores. Friday was a day of exploration and relaxation. As chauffeur, Marc navigated the minivan through 57 miles of twisting roads, switchbacks, and rolling hills to Lake Berryessa, the location of the race start. Without a person in sight, we thought we had come to the wrong venue. We city slickers carefully hid our van keys, stuffed our wallets under the van seats, and worried about our bikes going missing if we all swam in the lake together at the same time. Once I pointed out that there was not a soul in sight for miles, we laughed at our paranoia and headed out for a 20-20-10 swimming, biking, running suppleness session. A few friendly competitors rolled in to do the same, which confirmed we had in fact come to the right venue.
The roads were so winding and rolling that I requested the front seat, which Monica graciously offered up for fear of me losing my breakfast. We drove the course backwards and noted the level of difficulty this course would offer us on race day. I focused on the smooth parts of the road yet realized that these patches were few and far between. We all agreed to keep our wits about us so as not to fall into a pothole or ride off the cliffs. Fueling, pacing, and hydration
were going to be the keys to a solid ride. I was certainly coming to the race with a bit of fatigue in my body from the past three weeks of solid training. Yet, mentally and physically, I knew I was up for the race and felt a burning desire to give it 110 percent. The run was where I wanted to shine the most, knowing full well that this leg of the race would only be brilliant if I had taken care of things prior to that point. I shared this strategy with Marc and Monica so they too might take note for their own performance and race execution.

Race morning meant an early start. Our saving grace was the local Starbucks 24-hr drive thru! I think the Starbucks sales in the Napa Valley region increased tenfold while we were in town. We were all craving our special potion at about the same time each day, multiple times a day.
Our minivan pulled into transition at approximately 6:30 a.m., 90 minutes before race start. Marc and Monica were in steady form, eagerly preparing for their first half IM of the season. I was feeling calmly confident and excited for the day. I was almost more excited for it to be over so we could tell our stories and laugh at the idiosyncrasy of an event such as this.
With everything in place—no more tweaking, positioning, stretching, peeing, pumping, checking, or lathering left to do—we got the race underway at 8:00 a.m. I started as close to the front as I could and stayed there for the first lap of the swim. Come the second lap we were mixed in with the second and third swim waves and things got a bit busy with so many bodies in the water. I was second female to exit and passed the first female in the transition area. It was a decent hike to our bikes, which benefited the legs, sending blood and energy to the required muscles.
The ride did not disappoint. It was just as rolling, technical, and rollercoaster-like as it had been the day before. It played to my strengths brilliantly and I felt totally at one with the road. For most of the ride I was out there alone, with only the odd cyclist ahead. I rode aggressively while keeping the run in mind. By the two-hour mark, the sun was heating up and hydration was becoming more of a priority. I never once felt like I had drained my fuel tank permanently. I was completely in control of my pace (except for on the very steep climbs when my power would spike somewhat). Marc rode past just over halfway into the ride, at which point he immediately proceeded to slow down. Is that a guy thing? It was nice to have a familiar body in proximity yet we only exchanged a handful of words. He did witness another racer ask me for a swig of my water bottle. I found this quite odd since I was in the lead (hence focusing) and I only had a mouthful or two left with 16 miles to go. The course offered up some flatter sections towards the end along with a final steep climb and steeper descent into T2.
The speed bumps in and out of transition were likely the most disconcerting sections of the ride. I had to check if my bolts were all still intact when I rolled over them.
After locating my runners under two unfamiliar wetsuits, towels and empty water bottles, I headed out for the run. It took a solid 20 minutes to find my rhythm. But once I did, I locked it in as best I could. The run route was simple—out and back, twice—with a serious climb on the way out and an even more serious multi-stage climb on the return. We were protected from the wind so the sun was even hotter than it would have been with a slight breeze. I was never sure
of my lead but hoped it was more than three minutes. Katya Meyers (a pro and sports model) was behind me with a few others trailing behind her. It didn’t bother me that no one was biting at my ankles. I was racing for myself and for a performance indicative of my fitness. I could have been out there alone and I would have given the same effort. Marc was always close by but again we never really spoke other than when he was buckled over stretching his back. I muttered “You okay?” but I knew full well it would be a volunteer to assist him, not me. He got a second wind and finished up 2nd in his age group. Monica was charging along with a huge grin and strong stride. We got to high-five each other during her outbound leg and my inbound leg. The finish line was hugely satisfying as were the Advils I popped within moments of finishing. I finished with a respectable time of 4:42 and my best half-marathon split yet this year.
The Canucks cleaned up the awards. Monica was 2nd in her age group, Marc 2nd (in a very competitive division) and I was first female and 7th overall. We celebrated with a trip to Starbucks (just kidding), an Italian dinner in downtown Napa, and some serious shopping in the Sports Basement on Sunday in San Francisco.
This race was a low-key event that worked into my schedule perfectly. It was an opportunity to test out some fitness, fueling and race-pace efforts. My coach, Kevin, says that my race data, heart rates and wattage, is textbook based on our predictions.
Next up is Ironman Coeur D’Alene on June 22nd. If the timing works out, I may jump into a half ironman in Victoria, BC on May 25th. The racing scene is picking up on all fronts: running, cycling, triathlon and multisports. It is great to see everyone streaming outdoors, ready to play in the sunshine. Mother Nature tells me we are in for a hot one!
Christine

Dedication & Consistency in Sport

Lately, I’ve given some thought to what kind of athlete inspires me. There are so many individual athletes, both elite and recreational, who serve as role models for me. They all share one defining characteristic: unwavering dedication.

I am inspired by runners like Ryan Hall (U.S. half marathon national champion, and the first American to break the one-hour barrier at that distance) and Paula Radcliffe (women’s world marathon record holder, with a time of 2:15:25 in April 2003). While both of them are blessed with a significant amount of genetic talent and have been able to draw on a complete support network throughout their athletic careers, they are still the ones who go out there every day and work hard, do the training and stay focused in hopes of continuing to occupy the pinnacle of their sport.

Ryan Hall would never have run a sub one-hour half marathon if he did not get in his steady tempo sessions, his critical speed workouts, if he had not gone to bed early each and every night, and fuelled his body diligently and focused his mental energy. Radcliffe would likely never have run 5:15 minute miles 26 times in a row, as she lived up to the expectations of spectators and race organizers, had she not dedicated her life to running by working for years with the same coach, surrounded herself with the best physical therapists and doctors, planned her training program to peak for a specific time of year and put in countless double run sessions a day.

These two athletes have enjoyed huge success, and define the very top level of achievement in their sport. But it isn’t their phenomenally fast pace itself that inspires me; it is their unwavering dedication to the relentless training regimen required to succeed.

Hall and Radcliffe are able to focus their entire lives around this dedicated quest for athletic success; most of us have to work hard to carve out time for our athletic endeavours. I am equally inspired by this type of dedication, of the busy father who gets up before dawn to fit in his workout, or the top executive who squeezes in a run every day despite her overpacked schedule. Jobs, children, spouses, and all the rigours of everyday life cannot be pushed aside by the recreational athlete, so every achievement is all the more hard-won, and worthy of celebration.

The dedication shown by such athletes is just as impressive as that of elite athletes because the motivation is purely intrinsic and empowerment of self is the reward. I have met many senior corporate executives running major corporations, leading talented teams of employees and managing millions of dollars with extreme competence, strategic thinking and intelligence, who “all of a sudden” decide to register for a triathlon, a 10 km race or a major cycle trip. They may never have swum, ridden or run before but they are ready to learn the ropes and invest in the gear and find a challenge. Some even approach their new sport like a business: they plan their workouts, log their split times, count their calories, research the gear and acquire only the top notch carbon fibre, super light or aerodynamic training tools. Nothing makes me smile more than to see these high-powered individuals enjoying the challenge of an activity that brings new rewards and adventure into their lives.

No matter what the performance level of the athlete, in order to pursue a goal and to find success, we all need to focus on consistency and dedication. Enjoyment and accomplishment are sure to follow. I often remind myself to be dedicated and consistent when I reflect on what I have accomplished and where I want to go, and the journey along the way. I’ve been an athlete long enough, as a long-distance runner, road cyclist and Ironman triathlete, to know that there will be ebbs and flows, injury and energy, focus and distraction, but in the grand scheme of things it is my consistency that will allow me to be healthy, strong and fit. That, coupled with my dedication to the program, the plan and the goal, will get me closer to reaching my performance potential. There is no substitute, no easy short-cut.

This summer I raced in Lake Stevens, Washington. It was a 70.3 Half Ironman event (www.ironman70.3.com). I had the pleasure of racing alongside Heather Gollnick, Melissa Ashton, Rebecca Keats and Heather Fuhr, all full-time pro athletes and multiple Ironman champions at one time or another in their careers. Heather Fuhr is likely the most decorated of all the women who raced on that day, and I was thrilled to have finished just a mere 3 minutes behind her, in 7th place. What was most impressive about Fuhr was the way she ran by me like I was jogging on the spot. I watched her fly by and thought to myself, “I aspire to run at that speed and I know with work and consistency, I can.” On the backside of our calves our ages were written in ink. I glanced down at Heather’s calves and read “39”. She has seven years on me in life and likely 10 more in triathlon. She didn’t just wake up one day as a speedy runner. It took dedication and consistency. At first I felt deflated when I saw Heather run by but quickly I turned this mental blip into energy, and focused on the quality of my own run. It was like putting money in the bank for my big picture goal and moved me one small step closer to my athletic potential. And ultimately, it is my untapped potential that keeps me motivated, consistent and dedicated.

I often ask my coach, Paul Cross, what we could do differently to improve my performance. We tackle the issue from all angles and this year we have added a number of new approaches. We’ve experimented with strategies to improve my run, my nutrition, my explosive power and strength, and my equipment and stride. When we are gearing up for a race, I always get the same reminder from him: “This week is no time for games.” In other words, stay dedicated to the program and consistent with the training plan. We both know I will not become a sub 1:20 half marathoner or a 55-minute 4 km Ironman swimmer overnight, but every day is another opportunity to improve on what I did yesterday and to prepare myself for my race day goal.

It is just a few more weeks until my second Ironman of the year, on home turf, at Ironman Canada. It’s an event that I love because of its location (Penticton, BC) and the course. The course suits my strengths and my preference of racing in a lake with a hilly bike loop and a glorious out-and-back run course. My mom, sister-in-law and “mother-in-law” are coming to watch. My mother is a veteran Ironman spectator (god bless her) so she will have the pleasure of shepherding Caroline and Elisabeth around 140.2 miles of water and road for some 10-plus hours. Countless friends will be racing alongside me, all of whom were also diligent in their training and committed to their goals. I commend and thank them because, together, we enhance each other’s experience and spend long hours training together in hopes of getting to the same start line fit, fresh, focused and committed to the effort ahead.

So when I read about people like Paula or Ryan, or see performances first-hand like Heather’s, or interact with the businessman or woman or with the mother of four who just ran a 3:45 marathon, I applaud each and every one of them for their effort, their dedication, and their achievements. I think these people followed a process to get to where they are today, just like me. They trusted, put in the hours, followed a program, rested and believed in themselves and tapped into their potential as athletes and humans.

Christine

February Training Camp in San Diego

When I was in Kona last October for the Ironman World Championships, my father made a major career decision. After 42 years of living and working in Montreal running the family business, he was offered a new career opportunity that would take him to Carlsbad, California, for at least 3 weeks of each month. It’s ironic to me that my father is living in the city that thrives on a culture of triathlon, running, cycling and holistic living—my dream city. Fortunately, he has enough room in his rented home to accommodate a visitor every once in a while.

While I was lucky enough to have had a few weeks of sunshine and warm weather while in Florida for the Christmas holidays, the month of January in Vancouver has been breaking weather records for rain, snow and cold temperatures. I always run outdoors, but it was rarely dry or warm enough to ride outside. The one time I tried it, I spent the rest of the day defrosting. My indoor Computrainer workouts have been creative enough to keep me motivated and consistent but I was certainly yearning for some scenery.

My first visit to “Casa Papa” in Carlsbad was in mid-January. I snuck out of town for a half-marathon on Sunday, January 20th. The race was a success, as I focused on building intensity and leaving some kick for the last few miles. Having not done one iota of speed work to date, race pace offered a terrific injection of intensity (top 12 female overall), I managed to finish strong, which is always a huge reward. Once back in wet Vancouver, I started to add some cycling hours into my weekly training and hosted Britni Bakk, my ultimate training partner, in my garage for an epic day of riding and running. We encouraged each other to stay strong for the entire five hours we sweated it out.

Britni was preparing for a wind tunnel test in San Diego in the beginning of February. She encouraged me to come along for our own self-run, week-long bike camp.

Britni and I arrived at Casa Papa on Saturday, February 4th. Tired, pale and overwhelmed by the potential hours we were going to log in the days ahead, we organized ourselves for our first day of riding with Kevin Purcell, my coach. We woke up to torrential weather on Sunday. Rain pounded down, and gusty winds howled from every direction. But surely, we thought, we can handle this—we are from Vancouver! Kevin was in full gear with 2400 calories on-board, and booties and multiple layers on top. Us girls, on the other hand, felt underdressed and ill-prepared. As we coasted along the ocean at 45 km/hour (tail wind), Britni rode through some glass and punctured her rented Zipp Tubulars. This mishap required us to stop for ten minutes to repair the puncture with popsicle fingers, blue lips and chattering teeth (thank you Kevin!). This entire scenario was not my idea of quality riding in California. I demanded a pit stop at Starbucks to warm up, but by now we were too chilled to recover. Kevin carried on (amazing!) and Britni and I sheepishly called for a taxi to take us home. We salvaged the day by finding treadmills under a rooftop and opted for a mid-length run to get our hearts working.

We started fresh on Monday and insisted on riding the exact route that had defeated us the day before: coastal through Camp Pendleton up to San Clemente. The sun was beaming, as it should in California. Kevin joined up for a “Take Two.” This was my first ride with Kevin so it was great to have him see me on the bike. We headed out at an easy clip, before upping the pace and effort while riding on the camp’s grounds and pathways. After a lengthy but wonderful stop at a bakery in San Clemente we headed back. Ride time was upwards of 5.5 hours. Britni and I did a short run off the bike to stretch out our legs and feel the post-ride burn!

Tuesday was Britni’s test day so she ventured into San Diego for the morning and experimented with the experts on positioning, equipment and pacing. I decided to try out the UCSD Masters Swim Program (18 lanes of 25 yards!) at 6:00 a.m., followed by a run through Del Mar. We met for an easy spin in the afternoon down to La Jolla and already she was looking more aero and sleek!

Wednesday was a moderately epic day. We had a late-morning ride planned with Kevin that would take us up some gnarly climbs inland from the coast. With that in mind, we wanted to save some juice for the afternoon yet still squeeze in a swim and run. The two of us swam again with UCSD and jogged around the campus for half an hour. I was feeling pretty stoked to be heading inland for the infamous climbing plus I was excited to explore the backcountry. As always, the plan was to head out easy, and save something for the end. Seems we were all successful in following this plan. It was an out-and-back route with the turnaround in a tiny town called Santa Ysabel. Kevin snacked on a pound of processed turkey full of sodium, protein and fat. This gave Britni and I the giggles for the rest of the afternoon. Kevin and I worked well together on a twisty backcountry ride, the Old Julien Highway. We stuck together and navigated the turns and descents to ensure the fastest yet safest path home. Britni isn’t much for sitting on the back of a wheel so we were always making sure she was just around the bend. With gusto and charm, she always was. We were back to our cars in 4.5 hours, sufficiently spent but high on adrenaline.

Thursday was classified as a highly epic day. My body was certainly feeling the work and hours we were putting in on our bikes but it didn’t seem to be draining my strength or enthusiasm, so I was fairly eager to go long and climb high that morning. Kevin and Britni were less exuberant but willing troupers. We all left Casa Papa with some uncertainty of ride length, destination and best roads to follow. Normally I am one to have the exact route laid out but for some reason we left our plans wide open, and paid for it later. The end result: 12,000 feet of climbing, 7:18 hours of riding, thousands of calories consumed, and one hitch hike, taxi ride and many emotions later, we arrived back at Casa Papa, in one piece, but exhausted and depleted. Kevin and I were communicating without words after the six-hour marker. He has a fun thread to read about the ride:

http://www.coachkp.com/cgi-bin/config.pl?read=4617

Neither Britni nor I knew how we were going to feel on Friday. Regardless, we planned on swimming at 6:00 a.m. with a new swim group out of Oceanside. The air temperature was close to 5 degrees in the morning so jumping into an outdoor pool was a bracing beginning to the day. Our body temperatures plummeted while we changed into our run clothing to jog the race course of the California Half Ironman (the next race on our schedules-March 31st, 2008). It’s a beautiful route that parallels the beach in Oceanside and rolls through a residential area for two loops of 10 kilometres. We ran one loop and headed straight to Starbucks, followed by a well-deserved afternoon of rest, recuperation, a tour of my Dad’s Carlsbad-based office (Ashworth Inc.) and shopping therapy with my mom.

Saturday was our last day on the bikes. Britni and I made it a “girls’ ride only” and downloaded a route from the Map My Ride website, which highlights an endless variety of routes from around the world. This one was supposed to be 123 km. Due to a typo in my scribbled directions, we turned it into a 160 km ride and saw more of the county than we bargained for. Once onto the right roads (Gopher Canyon Road and Old Castle Road) we were charging aero up and down the rolling hills and navigating tight switchbacks. Our biggest climb was up Cole Grade Road, which when looking at a flat map that morning hardly seemed intimidating. Britni, in her 23 cassette, had her endurance, strength and weights workout built into one! For whatever reason, neither of us was bothered by the 6 hours on the bike that day. We were both happy to be pedaling along through some of the most glorious and cycling-friendly countryside we’d ridden. I will vividly remember riding the last stretch of our homemade route: down Rancho Sante Fe to a right on La Costa Ave (love the names of the streets) to a right into Casa Papa’s driveway. We slipped on our runners and headed out for a jog down the boulevard towards the ocean. Again, we just mimicked the running motion and saved the tough intervals for another day.

The biggest workout is always packing after a week of training. The duties include doing last-minute laundry, packing the bike, leaving out morning workout clothes, breakfast food, one water bottle, a gel or two and your heart-rate monitor. I had convinced Britni to stay an extra night so that we could do get in one more quality workout: a half-marathon race in San Dieguito County. We woke up at 5:00 a.m. to run 21.1 kilometres on very tired legs (not unlike an Ironman). Pre-race I was feeling sheepish about convincing Britni to punish herself further, since I knew the race would be a suffer fest. However, in true San Diego style, hundreds of healthy, fit people toed the start line and motivated us to put our best race face on. We started the race together, but somehow separated as we climbed one of many steep and long hills, only to reconnect after the finish, both with smiling, satisfied faces and mutually admitting that we did in fact have some kick left in our legs. My parents were there to greet us at the finish and share in some of the wonderful post-race energy.

After the race, Britni and I drove directly to Starbucks, changed into our plane clothes, ordered our venti, extra-hot, extra-foamy, no-whip, no-sugar, no-water soymilk green tea matcha lattes and drove straight to the airport, bound for the cooler temperatures of Vancouver.

I think I should approach Starbucks about a sponsorship deal.

Comments/feedback: cfletcher@fletcherlg.com

Ironman Hawaii - Race Report 2007

My decision to add a third Ironman to my season was a last-minute one. Racing in Kona is always a privilege, and it offered another opportunity to practice a new nutrition plan and to implement some new mental techniques I had been working on. I was excited to be back in Hawaii, and had no expectations other than to have a great time. It was a celebration of my hard work, and a chance to race with the best of the best from around the world.

The week prior to the race lived up to its reputation, as the town of Kailua-Kona was overtaken by an international cadre of fitness fanatics. The coffee shops, highways, bike stores and supermarkets buzzed with triathletes preparing for the big day. The high energy of my co-athletes didn’t faze me at all—I was inspired by the experience and interaction. I found myself feeling quite relaxed all week. Perhaps a few fleeting moments of panic and anxiety seeped into my subconscious but they were quickly tamed by empowering thoughts and positive imagery. When I decided to attend the Welcome Ceremony the Thursday before the race, I knew I was in a relaxed frame of mind. Usually, I wouldn’t go near a jam-packed event right before a race, especially one characterized by long speeches and a skimpy supply of food. I was motivated to engage with others since I had both my mom and my two good friends, Alyssa and Scott, on the island with me, there to watch the race unfold.

My alarm was set for 4:00 a.m. on race morning. It felt early but I was up. From our less than luxurious condo, I could hear the ocean crashing on the lava rocks. The sky was clear black with stars shining brightly. Perhaps this was a sign of a blue sky day despite there being late afternoon cloud cover all week. Race anxiety was brewing inside but I knew the feeling was normal and I found calmness in thinking strong positive thoughts, walking tall and deciding that no matter what the day presented, I was going to smile and welcome the pain and effort.

As I looked around at the athletes surrounding me, the influence of technology and aerodynamics could be spotted everywhere, with both pros and amateurs. The vast majority of the competitors sported the newest speed swimsuits, aero helmets, deep-dish race wheels, lightweight running shoes and compression socks. Amazingly enough, Chrissie Wellington, who ended up winning the women’s race, wore her regular old “open vent” training helmet as she out-split the entire female field. Her “come out of nowhere” win was likely the biggest surprise of the day.

But back to the start line. My arms were numbered, my tires were pumped, my mom was hugged, my chip was on my right ankle and my goggles were sealed to my eye sockets. I didn’t see Alyssa and Scott before the start but I knew they were out there watching the start of this prestigious event. Alyssa, being my swim partner, was surely sending me energy for a speedy swim start. With a few minutes to start, the announcer informed the field that the legendary surfer, Laird Hamilton, would lead the swim start for the professional athletes. What a treat!

The swim start was explosive as always. I stayed in with a big pack until halfway to the turnaround. When I lost contact, I settled in with a smaller pack, which felt a bit slow but it was worth saving energy for the day. My mind was focused on a smooth and strong pull while sighting every third breath. The swells were alive and churning for the swim. Being one to have a sensitive internal system, I was feeling a bit woozy towards the end of the swim. No matter, I told myself, I would give this feeling no energy and would instead focus on having a great day. All my motions were deliberate through transition and on to the bike.

As we all headed out on to the famous Queen’s K Highway for 56 miles of lava fields, the sun unleashed its ferocious heat. I started on my nutrition plan within 20 minutes of getting on the bike. My first sip is always an indication of how my body is feeling. If my body can accept the liquid, I am in good shape for the day. If it revolts at the thought of a swig, there might be tough times ahead. On the bike, my body hovered between accepting and refusing my fuel. In any given moment, I did what I could to feel strong and powerful yet I knew that with the salt caking around my cheeks, I could have benefited from increasing my salt by a few hundred milligrams per hour. This is an awesome example of why I go back to the challenge. I love to experiment, and to strive for that perfect balance that will bring out the best performance.

The bike ride is rarely lonely since the age group men charge past you in a peloton, tempting a penalty. It seems an impossible situation for the referees when sixty men are clumped together along a straight line of highway. For the female pros, we must always back down if we want to avoid a four-minute stop.

The heat was at an all-time high during our stretch home. Even though I didn’t have my game legs attached to my body, I kept smiling and waving and devouring the experience. The crowds of people in town are so welcoming and proud of each of us, from the first to the last. Prior to my final turn down Makala Road towards T2, I spotted Chris Lieto, in a universe of his own, running down the highway in first place. Not another soul was in sight. I was sure he had it in the bag. Lieto is one of the strongest bikers on the triathlon scene. He won Ironman Canada in 2005, the same year I was third. I admire his talent since he has endured painful injuries and upsets over the course of his career.

The best thing about the bike-to-run transition is the cold towel the volunteers drape over your shoulders prior to sending you off on the run. It’s like a gift from heaven that brings you back to life. I was actually looking forward to the marathon, happy to be upright and testing out my new Zoot runners. I had two flasks in hand: one with water and one with Accelerade in it. The water went down but the Accelerade was nowhere near my mouth. If it wasn’t for the cheering spectators, home-made signs of encouragement and my enduring spirit, I may have packed it in, since my goal was to enjoy the day. The 8-mile stretch out along Alii Drive and back is humid, flat and crowded with people. At mile 4, I knew my energy was running low so I was going to have to start on the Coca-Cola 18 miles sooner than I had anticipated. After chugging 4 ounces of Coke, I felt like I was plugged back in, but the socket wouldn’t hold tight, and my pace soon slowed to a crawl. As I headed up Palani Road, my mom was cheering loudly, but instead of acknowledging her, I turned to the aid station and asked for more Coke. She knew my nutrition plan and thought this may not have been a good sign. Nonetheless, I stuck to my promise of smiling and waving, despite being in survival mode.

At mile 18, my body had finally had enough. I was no longer willing to use sponges or ice water to cool my body down, since it was feeling chilled, even in the 90-degree weather. Others were suffering as well, and all the men that had sped past me on the bike were now starting to walk. The highway portion of the run is also where we get some race scoop. I heard that Chris McCormick won the men’s race, having made up a big deficit from the bike, that Norman Stadler dropped out because he was throwing up on the bike (or maybe he heard there would be drug testing), that Natascha Badmann rode into a pylon and crashed, that Michellie Jones withdrew due to a blown ear drum, and that pros were dropping like flies. Each Ironman has a lesson to teach even the most experienced racer.

At mile 22, I traded places with Desiree Ficker (who placed second last year). I thought about running with her just to have some company. Instead, I quipped, “Just think, we could still be on the bike.” With one mile to go in the World Ironman Championships, I spotted my mom on the sidelines, cheering for my final journey home. I tossed her my Zoot visor, since after 25 miles my forehead needed some breathing space. This gave her just enough time to bolt down the block to see my smiling face at the finish line. After the volunteers walked me to through the finish line chute, I found my mom waiting for me just inside the spectators’ holding bin. We hugged, laughed and reminisced about the day. For my mom, the craziest part was just how happy I was despite her knowing it was not the outcome we had hoped for. She admitted this to me only the day after the race.

The finish line is like the walkway to heaven. And this year, it lived up to my expectations: plush, bright, deafening, surreal, satisfying, addicting and empowering. My arms went up, my face was flush with relief and my heart was full of appreciation for the support from strangers and loved ones. Of course, I wanted to have the outcome I know I am capable of but on this day, it didn’t matter. I got so much more out of the experience than I could have even anticipated and it came from the never-ending smile on my face, that stayed there throughout the trials of the day.

Congratulations to Britni Bakk, who placed first in her age division and secured a spot to Kona for 2008. And to Tara Norton, who was in 10th place for most of the day until she lost two spots within the final few miles. Thank you to Alyssa and Scott for cheering all day (they stayed until midnight and claim the race really only gets going after 12 hours, when a party takes place on the finish line carpet). And to Warren for making me feel like he was as much there to cheer for me as for his own wife. For those of you who read my reports on a regular basis, you’ll notice that my mom rarely misses an Ironman. She is my ultimate encouragement and pillar of unwavering strength and without her, the day would never be the same.

You’ll catch me at yoga and movies for the next short while. And since I had so much fun in Kona, I am all the more excited for next year!

Mahalo!
Christine

My Perfect Race - Ironman Hawaii, Kona 2007

Less than 2 weeks until Ironman Hawaii and my sixth time back to the Big Island to toe the start line. Having finished Ironman Canada a mere five weeks ago, it’s been a quick build to longer workouts while also making sure my body is well recovered and ready for another test of endurance. It took a good two weeks to settle my body and emotions after Ironman Canada. I was almost unrecognizable due to the edema in my face, hands, knees and ankles so I stayed low profile for as long as I could. After some long sleeps and well deserved hot fudge Sunday’s, I started back with some base training miles. Fortunately, I had company for most of the early sessions so it was most enjoyable.

Ironman Canada taught me so much about the importance of planned nutrition and the tape recorder that plays over and over in my head. And I knew then, as much as I know now, I will plan to never repeat a day like that again. Yes, I am thankful for having the lesson because it made me a better athlete. It gave me a chance to start anew with a fresh page. Like clean sheets and a fresh pillow, my build to Kona is about a new reality and planning for a day I want to have. Sounds simple? Well, you’d be surprised how many athletes plan for the day they fear, myself included.

Everyday since Ironman Canada, I have been laying the groundwork for a perfect day in Kona. I love this quote from one of my sports books, Mind Gym by Gary Mack - “Learn from the past. Prepare for the future. Perform in the present.” This saying resonates with me since it takes into account experience, forecasting and the moment in time.

My attitude towards Kona is quite relaxed. With friends and family coming along, I will savor the experience and love everything the race and the island send my way. In all my recent training sessions, I have solely focusing on the process, my form and my strength as my body passes through the water, the wind and over the road. With each passing day, I feel more excited about the upcoming challenge and more ready to test all this wonderful fitness I am building. Each day has been another opportunity to practice my mental focus, hone in my cue words and paint my picture of a perfect race day.

September 30th was my last key training session. It was pouring rain outside so I took the session indoors to Innovative Fitness. My preparations for this key day started well before Sunday morning. On Friday, I reviewed the nutrition plan for a 4.5 hour Computrainer Session and a 50-minute treadmill run (broken into 2 phases of Bike-Run / Bike Run). In fact, it turned out to be a perfect opportunity to practice race day nutrition minus the swim and pain at the end of the marathon. Friday evening was purposefully restful. On Saturday, I rode easy with friends followed by a time consuming session of nutrition preparation for Sunday. Eight water bottles later, I calculate and assemble my salt and gels requirements. Once I knew I had everything measured, bottled and bagged, I put my legs up for the entire evening to watch Grey’s Anatomy repeats.

Sunday morning felt just like a race morning as I rehearsed my mental mantra and mustered up some serious physical strength for the day’s work. Breakfast came early, as did its digestion (thankfully). Once my supplies, dry clothes and recovery nutrition were packed, I rolled over to Innovative to begin the day. My set up was yet another perfect opportunity to practice process instead of the long day ahead. Step One: post power words to the wall for both the bike session and run sessions. Step Two: plant nutrition exactly where it would be needed and at what intervals. Step Three: turn inward for five and half hours and focus on the task at hand. With almost no breaks in the action, I pedaled and ran my way into more fitness and endurance than I had before the session but, more importantly, I stayed focused with a sense of calmness and resiliency.

What lies ahead are shorter sharpening workouts and rest. I know my body will be feeling more energized as the days move forward. My coach, Paul Cross, and I have worked out the plans for the last stretch both knowing that them most important thing is to visualize the day I want to have and fill my body with nutritious fuel to top up all the energy stores.

Share The Dream. Christine