Tri. Write. Live.

Bikram challenge - an update

2013-05-09T08:28:00.001-07:00

Today is Day 10 of my 32-day Bikram challenge. I opted for 32 days because I wanted to devote the month of May to this. Of course May has 31 days. And I did not want to miss practice on April 30, as a competitive swim meet had left no room for classes in the previous four days. Hence the 32.

Incidentally, today it is also six months ago that I began practicing Bikram regularly.

Day 1 of the challenge had felt extra difficult. My body was tired from competing in six freestyle events (1500m on Friday evening, 400m and 100m on Saturday, followed by the 800m, 200m and 50m on Sunday) at the MSABC provincial championships.

I had to (chose to) lie down a couple of times to fend off dizziness during triangle and tree, and ran out of water well before the end of practice. So, I was glad I had told Bikram Yoga Sea to Sky owner and teacher Jena about my 32-day plan before class because otherwise it just might have gone out the window.

I was apprehensive on Day 2, feeling overwhelmed with the month ahead. Teacher Kirsten offered advice that immediately struck a chord.

"Just take it one pose at a time," she recommended.

One step at a time is how I run marathons, ultras and have finished Ironman triathlons. One pose at a time, or one breath at a time as teacher Jena later added, will be the mantra for May.

And Day 2 turned out to be one of the happiest classes I have done. My doubts about the challenge completely washed away during the savasanas. It was not a conscious thought, but a simple observation that arose, a deep sense that the challenge was what I needed to do.

Practice was not easy, easy is not the point after all, but I felt light and focused. Happy and content to be there. And my bottle even had water left at the end of the class.

"Perfect is the best you can do today," Kirsten quoted Bikram.

On Day 3, I stuck the 30-day-challenge note on the studio's Wall of Fame, and added two stickers across Days 1 & 2. I waited until after practice to mark completion of the third one. I did not yet write my "Intention" on the note. It had to be short, and initially I thought of "release, strengthen, run."

Practice on Day 3 was easier than on Day 1, but harder than Day 2. My training journal says, "Good class. Definitely feel that stuff is happening in my body."

Perhaps "stuff" sounds vague but I do not want to over-analyze or prejudge what is going on, neither physically nor mentally. I trust that whatever needs to happen is happening as long as I show up for practice and give it the best effort I can that day.

After Day 4 I had formulated my Intention for this challenge and wrote it on the note in the studio: "Set my body free so I can run!"

It was a good class.

Day 5 was an emotional one. I was physically off balance -- despite my best efforts I kept falling out of eagle. I appreciated the teacher's comment that on some days we simply can not seem to balance, a great reminder to let go of my irritation about it.

Emotionally, I was off kilter too. After triangle, I felt weepy and this persisted until camel, when the second set made me cry. I did not notice, nor tried to analyze, a specific reason behind this wave of emotion that finally disappeared and left me with a sense of relief after camel. This is becoming one of my favourite poses exactly for the mysterious sensations that follow -- as the teacher advised, I watch them float by and take another deep breath.

Day 6 was so different. "Felt calm and strong and focused," the notes in my journal say.

Day 7 was called into question when I strained my neck in the morning. It might have happened as I warmed up in swim training, or I might have slept funny, or it might have been the long phone call I made the previous day. Regardless, I cut short swim training because my neck/shoulder was sore with every stroke, and I did not want to risk injury.

Surprisingly, the stiffness that made turning my head to the left very difficult barely affected my practice that evening. Keeping my left arm straight up in the air in triangle was hard, and I avoided leaning on my left arm when turning to get into savasana. But everything else was fine, and practice felt good.

Day 8 was almost as great as Day 2. I felt strong and focused, and I could really notice an increased mobility in the hips in certain poses. A quarter of the challenge done!

Yesterday, Day 9, was harder. I did not have as much energy, and my body felt tighter to begin with, especially in the right glute/piriformis area in the first sets of some poses such as the standing forward bend, or forward fold, in the half moon pose. However, in the second sets my body released.

Overall, I had a good class and felt much better for it.

There is so much happening in my body from daily Bikram practice, even after only nine days.

I have also noticed recently that practice leaves me less smashed -- I am still tired afterward, but no longer so deeply exhausted as I was in previous months.

I have physically and mentally relaxed into the notion of the 32-day challenge. There is a peacefulness from knowing that I have committed to going daily; I do not need to think about whether I “should” go or perhaps wait a day, I simply go once a day every day this month.

Take my mat and towels (one for the session, and another for the shower after, since the first gets absolutely soaked), my one Bikram outfit, a bottle of water, and get to the studio on time.

Like in running, or any type of training, the knowledge that you have a manageable schedule you want to stick to is mentally relaxing. Commitment can set you free from throwing obstacles into your own way. It stops you from thinking, “It is so hard, maybe I should rest” or "I am too tired today", or "Too busy today"—you simply go.

I have also found that it allows me to relax in the practice itself. Taking class once or twice a week, I felt I had to make them count, whereas now I am conscious of sustaining the effort for 32 days in a row. That does not mean I am taking it easy; it means that I am extra careful with technique and listen better to where my body is that day.

I know that there are still another 23 days to go, so I am reluctant to say that it has been easier than I expected. The challenge is no doubt ahead.

But I am focused, I know exactly why I am doing this. I need it, my body needs it, not just to run, but to live a good life, to live a full life.

We miss out on so much when we do not use our body, cannot use our body, hate it as so many women do, as I used to do in my early 20s, focusing on the things it is not, can not do -- and assuming that it simply is the way it is.

We can change so much about our body if we learn to use it by giving it the time it needs, the effort it deserves. It will give us so much in return. I have experienced it as a runner and as a triathlete. Earlier this year I noticed it in the pool -- beliefs we have about our ability change if we challenge them.

Heel pain has prevented me from running for 10 months now. I have not been diagnosed with a medical reason for this problem. To me, that means there is no reason, none whatsoever, that I should not be able to return to running. I just need to listen carefully to what my body is trying to tell me.

Right now it is clearly saying that daily Bikram -- stretching and strengthening -- is what it needs.

A huge thanks to the enthusiasm from Bikram Yoga Sea to Sky for my challenge, your energy lifts me every practice.

Bikram yoga challenge -- 32 days

2013-05-01T09:56:00.002-07:00

Last week, with 17 weeks to go until Ironman Whistler, my body made clear that it was not ready to run. In fact it made clear it was not ready for much riding either, especially in the aero position.

While that was far from good news, it also confirmed that the pain in my heel was merely a symptom, not the cause. The real problem lies in my hips, glutes and piriformis. Unless I fix that soon, I will only be able to do the 3.8K swim on August 25.

From the outset, my registration was about helping me cope with the injury. It was about helping me overcome the reluctance to resume swimming and cycling as it became clear run training was off the menu for a while. As an athlete I am new to dealing with a long layoff from running; I have never had to do that before.

For me, registering for Ironman was also about not losing hope that one day I will be running again, training and racing freely. And in the last few months my optimism about my future as a runner has strengthened. But I have also realized it is going to take a lot more effort and work. And Ironman might arrive too soon.

Bikram yoga will form a key part of my new plan of action to help restore my body's ability to run, to increase my chances to do Ironman, as planned.

Yesterday I began a 32-day challenge of practicing daily. I feel that my body needs it -- my hips, glutes, piriformis, my spine need more flexibility and strength. I have no doubt that these 32 days will be extremely hard but I believe that the benefits and rewards will far outweigh the effort.

Last night, before practice, I told Bikram Yoga Sea to Sky owner and teacher Jena about my intention because I wanted to commit myself to it. Accountability is also part of the reason I am writing this post. In the past three months I have done 21 Bikram classes, so an average of seven per month, less than two a week, compared with the 31 I did the prior six weeks, as I have easily found reasons to "go tomorrow".

Life is busy, so if I want to add something to the schedule I have to commit wholeheartedly and create the time. Reserve the space in my day and mind to practice those 90 minutes every day for one month.

Yesterday's practice was challenging, as my body was tired from the three-day swim meet over the weekend. I probably had not rehydrated well enough either. It confirmed that it had been a good decision to tell Jena about the plan because otherwise I might have skipped today, and the next day, thinking the challenge could wait until "later".

But I know that my body needs it now. How do I know that? Ten days ago, Jena read a quote during practice, which went something like: When you come to the end of what you know, you arrive at the beginning of what you sense. And I sense that Bikram holds the key to my recovery. I certainly sense it is worth trying and seeing what happens.

So I am planning on today's 5:30pm class for day 2 of my 32-day challenge. Namaste.

I love swimming -- MSABC provincials

2013-04-29T10:03:00.001-07:00

My second swim meet ever, the MSABC provincial championship, was a great experience, and not just because I was very happy with most of my races.

Earlier in the week, my body showed that it was not ready for a 15-minute run after 10 months of struggle, treatments, rest, and a very slow easing back into running. The setback was very tough to deal with. Yet it also forced me to consider a new plan of action and by now I feel good about that.

Three days of competition were perfect to take my mind off the things I cannot do at the moment, focus on what I can do -- and be grateful for that.

Swimming has never been my sport of choice. And it takes a good dose of humility to compete at a different level than I have grown used to in the past few years as a runner.

However, at the end of the day I love being active, I love competing, and I love setting benchmarks as targets to improve upon. Those are far more important than finishing at a certain level, and those are what helped me get "good" as a runner in the first place.

It was a love for running that helped me improve from 2-hour 20K in 1997 and a 4:44 marathon in 2001 to the personal bests I set just a year ago. I did not get fast, or faster, overnight; I simply loved running and getting better, slowly but surely, made me love it even more.

In the past four months I have certainly grown to enjoy swimming, mostly because it fills part of the hole that my temporary inability to run has left in my life, my soul. Swim training has allowed me to release all that pent-up mental and physical athletic drive that had nowhere to go for the last six months of 2012 into the pool. I trained three times a week, an hour at a time, over the past four months.

From the start in January, the enthusiasm and approach of Squamish Titans swim coach Roseline Mondor-Grimm has helped me do that to an extent that I now look forward to each session, I am excited and motivated to train in the pool because it makes me happy. And the results showed this weekend.

On Friday, I did a new distance -- in the pool at least, the 1500, and was stoked with my time of 25:56.03. I suffered a brief moment of panic as I started the third lap (counting 50s) when the mental weight of the next 27 laps hit me hard. I quickly refocused on my breathing, and counting sets of 10.

I felt good and swam hard enough that I had trouble lifting my arms after the event -- no doubt in part also because I had not swum farther than a consecutive 800 recently. My splits showed I did the first 800 in 13:51, a 33-second improvement from the 14:24 I needed to do the 800 event in February.

Yeah! I was psyched for the next two days.

On Saturday, I swam the 400 in 6:28.32, compared with 6:59 at the meet (in the same pool) two months ago. I went hard in that race, high on the 1500 result and I must admit that I was a touch disappointed with the 6:28, given that I was timed at 6:33 in training about a week ago.

But a 5-second improvement is a 5-second improvement, and I am closer to the 6:15 qualifying standard for the 2014 FINA World Masters.

Later that day, I swam the 100 in 1:22.52, down from the 1:27 I did two months ago, and compared with the 1:20 worlds standard. Getting closer!

On Sunday, we began with the 800 and I was stoked with 13:31.73. I felt a touch tired which I think helped me pace the effort well. The worlds standard is 13:20.

Next up was the 200, and the 3:01.43 I did here might be the result I was most pleased with. It was 11 seconds faster than two months ago. The worlds standard is 3:00.

Last was the 50. I was so determined to make the 36 standard but had to settle for 37. Or so I thought. The final official results list my time as 36.52. This was the first time I swam this distance in a meet, so I have no comparison. I am excited that it is so close to the worlds standard.

The past six months have transformed me from someone forced to get back into the pool after a 7-1/2 year break, dreading the prospect, to a swimmer seriously considering taking part in the world masters championships, believing I have a chance to make the qualifying standards.

That's right, four days ago, I said truthfully that aiming for the standards was a way to add focus and motivation to my swimming in general, and this meet in particular. Since the weekend, I am actually thinking of competing in Montreal next year should I be able to speed up enough.

If I qualify, I would be among the slowest in my age group there but an opportunity to compete in a world championships in Canada might be too good to pass up. Never prejudge your potential.

My transformation, mentally and physically, in the pool has also provided the perfect reminder for my efforts to restore my ability to run. Huge changes can take place in our body, and mind, over a relatively short period of time.

If I can evolve from wondering whether I can cover the 25m length of a pool in October, to almost qualifying for the worlds in April, I believe I can transform my body into a better, stronger and faster version of the 3:00:29 marathon runner I used to be.

***

Click to read Triathlete Tim's report on the MSABC provincials.

Speeding up in the pool

2013-04-21T12:35:00.001-07:00

As the deadline to sign up for the MSABC Provincial Championships in Vancouver got closer, I began doubting my plan to register for the three-day event. I had not missed any training, but felt that I was lacking progress.

A few weeks earlier, when our coach was away for spring break, I was convinced enough that I had sped up in my 400m time to send her a note about it. She was excited too and said she would time me upon her return the following week. I was convinced my 6:54 400 had dropped to 6:40-ish.

But on March 27, the coach's stopwatch showed I swam a 6:49. And no matter that it marked a five-second improvement from my 400 a month earlier, I was not happy. At all. My mind was fixated on that 6:40, and those extra 9 seconds made me grumpy with impatience about getting faster.

It is easy to lose perspective, despite good intentions. I was sure I had swum better the previous week. But the clock did not lie.

I knew a 6:40 400 was not going to make me a "competitive" swimmer at the provincials either, but I wanted the time and money spent on the meet to boost my confidence and enthusiasm with a good chance to better my own times from February's meet.

In February, five of us swam at the one-day meet while Squamish Titans swim coach Roseline was there to guide, time and cheer us. A lot of fun. This time, few people from our squad were interested or able to compete at the three-day provincials.

But, after some encouragement by the coach, Triathlete Tim and I decided to register after all.

For $85, you can race as many as 7 events. Tim and I both ticked all freestyle distances: there is the 1500 on Friday evening, followed by the 400 and 100 on Saturday, and the 800, 200, and the 50 on Sunday.

We are not sure yet that we can both attend Friday's 1500.

I mailed the registration package on Monday, so it could arrive by the deadline.

And then I ended up having a great week of swimming. On Wednesday we did some hard 50s, 100s, and 200s. And on Friday the coach was timing another swimmer in my lane, when she asked if I wanted to be timed as well. I was feeling good that morning, already in the 200m warm-up, as well as the 350m of drills and an easy 600m free that followed, so I said sure.

I also promised that I would not be grumpy, no matter what the stopwatch showed.

There were just two of us in the lane, with my teammate soon well ahead -- I had left five seconds after him. I felt in tune with the water, moving through it smoothly without much effort. "I feel fantastic," I thought, and kept repeating that phrase so I would hold on to that sensation.

I briefly had to adjust my swim cap after 300m, and increased my effort in the final 100.

"Six thirty-eight!" Coach Roseline said.

Wow, are you sure?! As it turned out, she had not yet deducted those five seconds I had started after my teammate, so I had in fact swum 6:33, a 16-second improvement from the time that had so disappointed me just 2-1/2 weeks earlier. (And compared with 7:32 I did in a time trial in January.)

I am getting excited for provincials now. The 400 qualifying time for the 2014 FINA World Masters Championships is getting closer -- at 6:15 it might not be within reach next weekend but I sure am going to try my best.

The standards for my age group in the other events are 36 for the 50, 1:20 for the 100, 3:00 for the 200, and 13:20 for the 800.

By comparison, in my first swim meet two months ago, I swam 1:27 for the 100, 3:12 for the 200, 6:56 in the 400, and 14:24 in the 800. Securing one, any one, would make me very happy.

I have no intention of going to Montreal if I qualify (though I never say never either) but the times provide great goals to work towards. Goals are what keep me interested and focused on digging a little deeper, which is ultimately what makes me happy -- knowing that I gave it all I had, whatever that might be on that day in whatever aspect of life.

That is what I love most about training as an endurance athlete -- it teaches you to keep challenging your beliefs about your ability and what you have to give, physically and mentally. You always find more than you expected. And on days that you don't, you just try again the next day.

Thoughts on the Finish Line: Boston

2013-04-16T13:26:00.000-07:00

I sat down at my desk just past 6am to write in my journal, as I do every day. After marking the date and day -- April 16, Tuesday -- my fountain pen moved along the page to form "the day after the Boston Marathon got bombed," and my eyes filled with tears. I feel so, so sad.

The horrendous details known as I write this -- three dead and more than 180 wounded, according to CNN -- are devastating, particularly considering the description of the types of injuries I have read in various reports about the blasts near the finish line of this iconic race, the world's oldest marathon.

Anyone who has ever been at the finish line of any race, whether as a spectator or as a competitor, has experienced its magical qualities. On any other day, this area is just a city street or a town square. But on race day there is nothing like it in the universe—it becomes a place where long-held dreams are fulfilled and new ones are born.

Each one of us who has ever accepted the challenge to try to race a certain distance, particularly the marathon, was forever changed at a finish line.

Who knew that there was this person inside of us with the will, determination, imagination and the simple faith that they could cover 42 kilometres and 195 metres on foot? The time it took did not matter, truly it does not. (If anything, the longer you needed the more courage the effort required.)

Those who prove to themselves that they, too, can run a marathon simply by doing it float across that finish line into a new identity, a marathoner. They are forever altered as the seemingly impossible just became reality because they made it so, one step at a time.

Runners never travel alone, however, even if theirs is a personal quest. Everyone around the runner is touched by their explorations as they prepare for the journey to that finish, that closure of a chapter -- often several chapters – which in turns open up a new and broader horizon.

Husbands, wives, daughters, sons, mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, friends, colleagues, and sometimes even perfect strangers, come to witness the culmination of their efforts, somewhere along the marathon course but most often especially at the finish line. The energy released and exchanged among those waiting and those arriving is palpable and magnetic.

“I am at my best nearing the finish of a race. Until then I am just another mediocre distance runner… But with the finish in sight, all that changes. Now I am the equal of anyone. I am world class. I am unbeatable. Gray-haired and balding and starting to wrinkle, but world class. Gasping and wheezing and groaning, but unbeatable,” wrote Dr George Sheehan in Running & Being: The Total Experience.

Any and every race is a celebration of all the training an athlete has put in over weeks, months, years. The finish line is the zenith of that celebration. It is both the symbolic and the tangible end of a pilgrimage that is nothing short of transformational, the sacred destination after a long journey where every person fights their own battles, struggles with their own demons, and hews their own paths to come out victorious.

Reaching the finish is proof of that, each and every time, and of immeasurable value to the soul.

Every marathon, every race, is a journey of hope. It is about gathering courage, strength, and discovering another Self within. Running is about the drive to become a better person, about opening up to possibility -- for ourselves and for those around us. It is about believing in that which we cannot see, that which we cannot touch other than with our hearts.

The finish line is a gathering of spirit, and a belief in that human spirit -- the drive to improve ourselves, to challenge our own assumptions about what we think we can do, to defy self-doubt, to grow, to release what is hidden in our everyday persona, a character we have adopted without wondering often enough what else we might have to give.

Running is a quest for awareness, insight and understanding -- of our Selves and, with that, the Universe. It is about finding that we can extend ourselves and liberate another part inside of us we did not expect to see there.

The finish line is innocence, happiness, gratitude, and potential -- both the one realized and the fresh potential uncovered, all in one step that passes underneath that timing clock, a rite of passage not just registered by the chip on our laces or ankle, or the BIB number pinned to our chest. It is felt deeply and stored in our psyche so we can touch its essence whenever we need it.

The finish line is a gathering of human potential, that of the individual and of the collective. We reach it by transcending the ego, towards and into the Self. Every marathon prompts an honest inner dialogue that soars beyond words in our brain into peace and stillness in our mind; this quiet conversation with the Self occupies our entire body, permeates the Spirit and lifts us to that finish line, the start of a renewed and more inspired life.

My love, my mother, my father, my sister, my dog, my best friends have waited for me at finish lines, craning their necks in anticipation to watch me complete the next leg in my pilgrimage. Willing me closer to my goal, the loved ones patiently standing guard at that otherwise ordinary place in history and geography just to witness what they know to be important to me, and therefore for them.

I, too, have waited at many finish lines, cheering my loved ones -- Tim, my sister, best friends, team mates, competitors -- in their own pedestrian pilgrimages. Witnessed, and shared in, their personal victories of goals reached, fresh ones conceived in the sheer joy that comes with achievement.

Each of the more than one-hundred finish lines I have crossed held me still in time and simultaneously propelled me forward.

It could have been my love, father, mother, sister, friend, colleague, dog at that finish line yesterday, and it could have been me. Therefore I feel it was me, though I realize I cannot fathom the true extent of what it must be like for those affected.

At that finish line we all become one and that is why I feel so incredibly sad about what happened to all of us yesterday at the Boston Marathon. My thoughts are with you.

Easing back into running after injury - update

2013-04-10T09:34:00.002-07:00

Yesterday I did my longest stretches of running yet as I hope to have rid myself of the injury that stopped my training dead in its tracks nine months ago just as I was in the best shape of my life.

The plan called for three 10-minute runs, separated by walk breaks of 2 minutes. I warmed up by walking 13-1/2 minutes to a trail that offered a flat experience.

A year ago, I was getting ready for what would turn out be my fastest marathon yet, 3:00:29, with a relatively easy week of 100K of running.

Yesterday it was challenging to run 10 minutes at a time. I realized I had to remind myself to enjoy it because my mind is still busy "running scared"--constantly surveying my right heel for signs of trouble, as only the continued absence of pain will tell me whether the injury is behind me.

It felt like a real run, and I tried to relax into the joy of it as much as I could. But toward the end of the third 10-minute stretch, at about 7-1/2 minutes, I thought I felt something in my heel. And I mean this very literally indeed--I thought I felt something in my heel. I stopped, immediately, and started walking.

Before yesterday, Tuesday, I did three 8-minute stretches, with 3-minute walk breaks on Sunday, and three 7-minute runs also with 3-minute walk breaks on Wednesday, totalling 24 minutes and 21 minutes of running respectively.

Yesterday's run, even with the third stretch cut short by 2-1/2 minutes, added up to 27-1/2 minutes, so I am pretty stoked. Perhaps I was too cautious in stopping early yesterday, and my heel was OK as I walked home. It seems OK this morning too.

As my friend and life-long runner Dessie Suttle reminded me in a note the other day, "Don't be a slave to any program. Be flexible if you can't do the distance, say 3x 10 minutes, drop back to maybe 7 minutes, whatever your body or healing injury dictates, listen to your body. Use that program as a guide but don't be afraid to change times and distances to suit YOU."

Great advice, indeed.

Learning a new language: Czech

2013-04-09T09:25:00.001-07:00

"To know another language is to live another life." - TG Masaryk, President of the First Czechoslovak Republic

Seven days ago I began a Czech language course. I opted for Pimsleur's digital package with thirty 30-minute audio lessons and have progressed at the recommended 30-minute lesson a day so far. I like the method and think it is good value at $129.

It is not the first time I considered trying to learn this language spoken by about 12 million people. For now I am simply focused on finishing the Pimsleur beginners' course, though I have already discovered other great resources.

It takes time to learn a new language; it is not so hard to pick up a few words here, a few sentences there. Becoming fluent, however, takes years of enthusiastic and committed effort.

Even in our mother tongue--mine is Dutch--we can always discover fresh words to add to our vocabulary.

I grew up with snippets of Czech as my mom was born in Czechoslovakia, the country that existed from 1918 until 1992, when it split into the Czech Republic and the Slovak Republic. I never learned more than the odd word, sentence and expression, though the Czech sounds are familiar.

As a native Dutch speaker who became an Anglophone journalist, copy-editor and author, I am well aware of the effort ahead. The key is to take it one step at a time and to enjoy the journey.

Of course my mom was enthusiastic, addressing her emailed response in Czech, "Ahoy Marketa".

I asked my friend Graham Fuller, who has studied more than a dozen languages including Russian, Turkish, Persian and Japanese, for general advice.

“Czech is not all that easy, like other Slavic languages lots of (unnecessary) endings and irregularities. I don’t really know it, but know Russian well. It is mildly harder than Russian I think due to a few added grammatical demands, but there is much encouraging arts and music in it, including great Dvorak and Smetana and Janacek operas,” Graham said.

He also gave me a copy of How to Learn a Foreign Language, the first book he published (1987).

"By learning a foreign language, you are in a way getting into the mind of that Frenchman, that Russian, or that Chinese," he writes in How to Learn a Foreign Language. "You are starting to share with him the way he 'dresses' his own thoughts and expressions--in linguistic clothes very different than your own."

He recommends recording yourself in the language you are trying to learn so you can compare the sound of your pronunciation with that of the native speaker.

I also found some neat Czech online resources like www.surfacelanguages.com and www.locallingo.com.

And I discovered that the Squamish Public Library offers free access to Mango languages including Czech to all its members.

So for now I have plenty of material to study and I am very excited about it.

Return to running, an update

2013-03-25T13:35:00.001-07:00

It seems that I have graduated from the initial ease-back-into-running program. On Sunday, I ran four minutes, followed by a 60-second walk break, and repeated this another three times for a total of 20 minutes.

My heel/ankle has not protested so far so I am now progressing to the next stage of my return from injury. Tomorrow I will start this program, by Pete Pfitzinger, which -- if all goes well -- will have me running half an hour in three weeks. That would be amazing!

Despite my body's cooperation and a positive attitude, I am still running scared too, worried that the pain in my heel might return as the distance slowly increases.

I am determined to keep taking it easy; my first run after a complete 4-month layoff from running consisted of just 30 seconds. I have taken seven weeks to build up from 30 seconds to 4 minutes.

Bikram yoga remains a fundamental part of my new training regimen; last week I practiced four times, bring the total number of classes I have taken in the past three months to 43. (I would have gone more often had it not been for a few small mishaps, including a cold, bruised knees from a fall, followed by badly chafed hips from a 3-hour ride on the Computrainer).

I also finally invested in a proper outfit for hot yoga, which makes an amazing difference from running tops and shorts. I opted for a pair of dark blue Tonic shorts and a racer bra top by Onzie (Tie Dye), both offered at the studio so easy shopping.

Each class provides another stretch of hard-won and much-needed flexibility. Many of the teachers' cues remind me, indeed make me more aware, of the frame of mind as a runner.

Most importantly now, I focus on this one: "You are exactly where you need to be."

***

On Saturday afternoon, the Chief's Third Peak was the perfect place to be.

Luka & I are exactly where we need to be

Drew, Luka & Tim

Vanessa Fulfils Sub-3 Marathon Dream

2013-03-21T12:05:00.000-07:00

Follow Vanessa on Twitter

A little less than a year ago, Vanessa Gosselink was preparing for the Utrecht marathon in the Netherlands where her goal was to finish before the clock reached 3:00:00.

In October 2011, she had targeted Sub-3 at the Amsterdam marathon, but had to settle for 3:02:42, a stellar time that was not only a personal best but also fast enough to earn her the Dutch national masters championship.

Utrecht proved a disaster—rain, wind, and a wrong turn resulted in a 3:07:50 finish instead. It was a sharp time given the circumstances, but not at all what she had in mind.

Vanessa, a former pro cyclist, originally began running to recover from a leg fracture that ended her Olympic dreams. As a road cyclist, she had made the Dutch national team in 1988 and earned two stage wins in the Tour de France Feminin.

After missing out on a spot for the 1992 Olympic team, Gosselink swapped her road bike for a mountain one and excelled once again; she earned three Dutch national titles, two Benelux (Belgium, the Netherlands and Luxemburg) championships, and was ranked in the world's Top-10 for three years, from 1993 until 1996.

She was selected for the Dutch mountain bike team heading for the 1996 Olympic Games but it wasn't meant to be. A broken leg three weeks before the Games shattered that dream (read more here). Once recovered, however, she found solace and joy in running. And a fresh goal.

By 2009 she ran her first marathon in 3:47, finishing a second one six weeks later in 3:31. She knew she could go faster, and proved that by running a 3:08 and then a 3:06 in 2010. The following year, she went faster again, crossing the line in 3:05, before speeding up to 3:02:42.

Utrecht, held in April 2012, was the first marathon where she did not improve her time. She realized weather, organization, and plain bad luck had played a key role in that result. Still, doubt is never far away.

But the confidence she was capable of Sub-3 won out.

Six months later, she proved herself right when she smashed her personal best by a whopping eight minutes, flying across the Amsterdam marathon finish line in 2:54:09.

Another two months later she improved her half marathon time to 82:48, speeding up from her previous PB of 86:41.

To top it off, she ran the Apeldoorn marathon in February 2013, finishing in 2:53:57.

To what do you credit the breakthrough successes you have experienced in the past six months?
First of all, I have not been injured (knock wood), so I have been training consistently, day in and out, just taking a break once a week (mostly Saturday) and an easy run on the Mondays. I think this is the most important factor.

Second, I started to do some short-interval training seriously on the road, where every 100 meter is marked, which makes it easy to do short intervals. For example, 3 sets of 3x300metre and 1x 400metre at 100 percent. Really hard, but very effective.

Third, I lost some weight… I am not big in the first place, but losing some muscles in my upper body and thereby another 2-3 kilograms makes me just that little lighter. So all energy and oxygen can flow into my legs, and no "useless muscles" in my upper body are using any of the precious energy during the race.

Though I must admit that I have gained them again after the last marathon, because my body just needs a break. Getting into my next goal, I will have to cut back again on all the delightful chocolate.

Which result are you most proud of, or have you enjoyed most, and why?
The marathon in Apeldoorn was a big surprise. A hilly course and I never expected to run a personal best and almost winning the race. Finishing second feels great. And in the last 10K I made up almost 2 minutes, racing the last kilometers in 3:44, 3:52 and 3:48. I continuously felt like running in the flow….but maybe the memory is most fresh and therefore mentioned here.

Did you change your training since Utrecht?
Yes, I started doing more short intervals, continued running 6 times per week.

How did and do you silence your doubts, in training and racing?
I do have doubts of course, like everybody else. Not so often in training, because I just love to run. But whenever I am about to start a hard workout and motivation is lacking, I think about the last race where I had that ‘perfect feeling’ and try to get back into that flow. And make myself remember that I will only improve when training is hard and you keep pushing beyond the comfort zone.

And when race day comes, especially when it is my big goal, like a marathon or half marathon, I know that I should feel a little stiff and ‘not so good’. I have learned that feeling that way is a good sign for me—it means that my body is fully loaded with energy, and that it is just a little lack of endorphin that is making me feel that way….

What, in your opinion, were the key sessions that helped you improve over the marathon distance?
Short intervals as earlier mentioned and pyramid training at 95 percent, e.g. 4/5/6/5/4 minutes at (almost) full speed. Recovery is jogging half the time of the interval in between. It makes my technique better and forces me to be very relaxed in the upper body in order to be able to fulfill the training.

In addition, I build up the amount of running at marathon speed, starting with 40 minutes about 2 months before the marathon and finally running 70 minutes at marathon speed once a week. This makes my body get used to that speed, so that when running that pace in the marathon it feels good, familiar.

And are those the same that helped you speed up your half marathon time?
Yes, I do think so!

Did you change anything in your marathon race-day strategy that helped you go faster?
My race day preparation is the same.
In the week before the race, I keep running 6 times a week, but do short sessions, where I used to run only 3 times. I feel that I do need some tension in my body to feel good.

And what about your half marathon race-strategy?
Exactly the same!

Have you noticed a change in your mental approach to training and/or racing? If so, did you consciously seek or work on those changes?
I am just a little more confident right now. And after running a Sub-3, the pressure is off. I have reached my goal, and though I would love to improve even more, I am very, very satisfied with my current PB and just love to run and hope that I can keep doing it for a long, long time!

What are the most important lessons you have learned in the past year:
-    in training
Listening to my body is extremely important. Always feel how your body is recovering, and if I do not have the motivation to do a training session on a certain day, because I feel tired, then I know I have to give myself a break and adjust my training.

-    in tapering
Take a 2-week taper period and taper once in training a few weeks before the race. So build a mini-tapering period into a preparation race. This will tell you how good you feel. Then a 3- week training period, 1 week ‘rest’, 1 week preparation into the race, and….a PB might follow!

-    in racing
Never take off too fast! Let all the others go, take your time to get into your rhythm and speed up in the second half of the race.

-    in recovery
The hardest part for me….after a marathon, I always promise myself to take it easy, but always end up running on a daily basis. No training, just run-by-heart and do whatever I like. Not running feels like not breathing. Though I know it is good to take a break, I never succeed in doing so.

What is your key advice to other runners gunning for the Sub-3 marathon?
See all the above! And start running on a personal schedule, do not follow other runners blindly. A standard schedule is a schedule that will fit nobody; it’s in the name already!

Buy lightweight shoes, lose some more fat (if you have too much), lose some upper-body muscles and go for it. And always remember to just have fun training!

Now that you have more than accomplished your goals, what are the new ones? Are you setting your sights on Sub-2:50, Sub- 2:45 for the marathon and Sub-80 for the half? How fast do you believe you can go?
Tough question….I might crawl a little further to 2:50, but think that will be absolutely the maximum. My stride is pretty short, so I will have to move up the rate. It would be nice to hit a 2:49:59, but I honestly think that this will be a little too ambitious for me.

Which races do you have planned for 2013?
This weekend a 10-mile race [she ran 1:0:39, finishing first female], and I might run a small marathon just for fun in May.

I will seriously build up again into the Eindhoven marathon in October, which is also the Dutch Championships, and hope to improve myself again.

I would also like to run a very low 38 on the 10K, probably in the next few weeks somewhere. In order to become a little faster again.

Anything else I should be asking you?
The most important thing of all: enjoy every mile that you are running!!

(Read the 2012 Q&A about Vanessa's marathon training here)

Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award Reviews

2013-03-13T11:47:00.001-07:00

I had entered my novel, From my Mother, into the 2013 Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award and made it into the second round in which 2,000 out of a total 10,000 entries over five fiction categories were chosen based on the pitch for the manuscript. Mine was entered into General Fiction.

While my manuscript did not advance to the next round, the quarter finals for which 500 out of those 2,000 were selected based on an excerpt consisting of the first 5,000 words, I did receive the Amazon reviewers' feedback.

Here's what they (names are not disclosed) said:

ABNA Expert Reviewer 1

What is the strongest aspect of this excerpt?
You somehow made me care about running which is something I have NO interest in. I liked the way you worked in bits and pieces from the past both the past of the grandmother and for Nadia.

What aspect needs the most work?
I wasn’t really taken with the pitch. If that’s all I’d had to read I’m not sure if it would prompt me to read the excerpt or book. It was by no means terrible just a bit lackluster. The thing that caught my attention the most is the mention of WWII Europe. This will sound to minute but your use of the word ‘lore’ piqued my interest especially in referring to this family. It made me want to settle in for a good story.

I was a little confused about where Nadia lived. At first I assumed because of where she was racing that she lived in Canada but later it seemed she lived in Australia.

What is your overall opinion of this excerpt?
As I said the story was doled out nicely. I loved being inside Nadia’s head while she worked on her here and now race and her family’s legacy and how that impacts her and better yet what the mystery is and what that will mean. You build great word pictures of both these women. Oma hiding from the Nazi’s is suspenseful and scary. I just knew nothing good would come from that. I loved her stubbornness and how it’s reflected in her granddaughter. The illustrative story of Christmas in the church and the contest of wills for winning the prized pew seat told volumes about Oma’s character and world outlook. She was not going to be taken advantage of again!

All the while I read many questions came to me. Did the Nazi kill or take the child, rape grandma and the child she had was Nadia’s true mother? Was this why she seemed estranged from her daughter and her son in law? Why is Nadia so obsessed with running? What is she trying to get away from or to?

I know you’re writing general fiction but you’ve built a wonderful level of suspense into this excerpt!

The use of WWII seems very timely since so much is being written about it today. Personally I can’t get enough of fiction and nonfiction about that era and hope the personal stories and the re-analysis continue your book included.

ABNA Expert Reviewer 2

What is the strongest aspect of this excerpt?
What a very haunting, and engaging beginning to this excerpt. We learn a lot about Nadia’s character by the way she approaches her running. The scene of the race is so well-written that I feel as though I am right there with Nadia. Oma is a feisty and endearing character; the scene of her pushing the other woman out of her seat in church is hilarious. Oma’s history is fascinating, and her relationship with Nadia is appealing and sweet. The rich history of the family, and the hint that there are many parts of the family story that Nadia does not yet know, generate strong engagement in the story.

What aspect needs the most work?
While the portions about running are interesting, they may be a bit lengthy and technical so early in the excerpt, and risk some readers, particularly those who may not be interested in running, becoming disengaged.

What is your overall opinion of this excerpt?
This excerpt captivated me from the start with compelling, well-developed characters and a rich tapestry of family history. The focus on the more technical aspects of running may have been a little overdone for so early in the story, and could risk losing the interest of readers who are not interested in the sport; more early focus on the relationship between Nadia and Oma may help to prevent this from becoming a risk. Overall, however, this was very compelling, and something I would like to read more of.

Returning to run training after injury

2013-03-11T13:04:00.001-07:00

After a four-month complete layoff from running -- which followed more than three months of drastically reduced run training -- I am now slowly easing back into running.

I began by power-walking five weeks ago; if my body, or more specifically my right heel, could not deal with that, it certainly would not be ready to run either.

My injury has been a persistent and mysterious one that has not responded to various types of treatment (ART, IMS, massage) and did not show up on an MRI either. The roller coaster of hope and disappointment has made me extremely cautious; yet the only way to find out if I can run again is by running.

If the injury, resulting in pain in my right heel has not healed by now, after eight months, I need to know. In the past five months, I have taken charge of my own body again by revamping my diet, adding Bikram yoga, as well as bike and swim training. And of course a complete break from running.

By December I was able to walk again without pain. Easy daily walks with the dog, initially flat for about 30 minutes, later moving to the undulating local trails for up to an hour. By then I could also do some simple strengthening exercises like calf raises.

By the third week of January I introduced power walks to my routine, beginning with 45 minutes and increasing them to an hour. I felt comfortable enough to try the steep hike up, and down, the Chief by February 1. As the pain stayed away, I began a very easy walk-run routine on February 3.

It consists of a 20-minute workout with four stretches of running, interspersed with walking. It begins with four and a half minutes of walking, followed by 30 seconds of running, repeated another three times. I don't know anything about the source, but I liked the low-key approach and am using it to build up to running five minutes.

When I can do that, I plan to follow this seven-week returning-from-injury program by running coach Pete Pfitzinger; I am a big fan of his approach to training though his book Advanced Marathoning.

A couple of setbacks have slowed progress but I am ready to run 3-minute stretches tomorrow. So far so good, though the proof will be in the pudding; will the pain stay away?

Yesterday I did my second workout with 2 1/2-minute stretches of running -- it is amazing how long such a short run feels right now, after I thought nothing of going for a mid-week 24K run not that long ago. But I am certainly not complaining -- any running is bliss, and I am loving each second.

As the teachers at Bikram yoga remind me each practice, "You are exactly where you need to be."

Running into roadblocks

2013-03-06T12:30:00.001-08:00

Everything happens for a reason. If it is meant to be, it is meant to be. What goes around, comes around.

These often-heard lines portray the human desire to make sense of life, to see purpose and meaning behind what might also be seen as a series of random events that happen to each one of us, to create a moral compass for our conduct especially in the way we treat others, and to instill an awareness that our actions have consequences.

Image by Sorca

Yesterday morning was a nice one as Luka and I set off on our walk. I opted to head to the start of our street, passing the site where the new neighbourhood of Crumpit Woods is being built, and then veer left onto a trail that splits and offers several options.

A favourite, Summer's Eve, is closed because of the construction which at this stage includes regular blasting of the underlying rock.

Instead, we headed over to The Graduate, a relatively new trail that slowly winds its way toward the Three Virgins, before connecting to the part of Seven Stitches that remains open for now. It was quiet and we had the trails to ourselves.

Enjoying the immersion into lush rainforest, I was also lost in thoughts, pondering the application to a writing program, while Luka was entertained by the ball I had brought for him.

WHAM!

Both my knees hit hard rock embedded in the trail. The pain was instant and severe, one knee of the Levi's jeans I have owned for less than three months ripped on impact. Sitting dazed on all fours, I couldn't help myself and started wailing, out of agony but especially frustration.

What the hell?!

I was still recovering from the flu -- my first in a long, long time -- that had knocked me flat for the past five days; no Computrainer on Thursday, no swim on Friday morning or no Bikram on Friday evening, no long ride on Saturday morning or yoga on Saturday afternoon, no power walk with short stretches of running on Sunday. I also had to forget about the swim on Monday evening and the once-a-month flip-turn training on Tuesday morning. I even had to miss daily doggy walks.

And now I could also clearly forget about my plan for Bikram yoga on Tuesday evening.

It has been only four weeks since I stubbed the middle toe of my right foot so hard against the metal leg of my wind trainer that I went to the hospital to rule out a fracture with an X-ray; earlier that day I had successfully tried running 30-second stretches after a four-month complete layoff.

The last thing I needed were a pair of scraped and bruised knees, demanding another interruption of training and more patience. Grateful that at least the fall hadn't seemed to cause anything worse, that my jeans were the only thing torn when my left shoe got stuck under a root in the trail, I wondered about the meaning, the purpose of these ongoing interruptions to my training.

Am I being tested? And if so, why and for what? Or are these just random events that happen to occur in a relatively short space of time to the same person? Is it a reminder to live more in the moment, do I need to pay more attention, am I trying too hard to do too many things? Or is it just an unfortunate accident, something that simply happened?

After the past eight months of dealing with an injury that has been slow to heal -- and I still don't know for sure that it has -- I notice my tolerance for additional pain and misfortune is low. The aggravation by yet another little mishap that keeps me from the training routine I have only recently found again may seem out of proportion but I have been walking on athletic eggshells for a long time.

I just want to train. I am not even asking to run right now, though I was thrilled to run four 2-minute stretches last Wednesday; swimming, cycling and practicing yoga have made me a very content athlete over the past three months. I love being active. I need to be active.

"Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterward," read a quote by Vernon Law I found in an article in my inbox this morning.

The lesson, for now, is to get up again, brush myself off and keep moving. Be grateful. My knees feel much better this morning; I have hurt them worse in previous face plants which, come to think of it, hadn't happened in nearly two years.

My flu is almost gone, but I'll skip tonight's swim training to be safe. I should be OK for a doggy walk later today, though I might avoid Seven Stitches for now. The sun is shining.

Qualifying for the Worlds -- Swimming

2013-02-25T16:46:00.001-08:00

Yesterday I did the first swim meet of my life. It was not a big deal, and yet it was, as with everything you do for the first time.

There is a clear advantage to being a novice at something -- if you are willing to accept and embrace it.

"Eighty percent of success is showing up," as Woody Allen said.

That indeed was the measure for me. The biggest obstacle to yesterday's indoor swimming competition was finding the courage to try it, challenging the idea I have of myself as someone who cannot swim fast, that I am not -- never -- going to get any better, and that I wouldn't enjoy competing in the sport.

As a runner, I always encourage novices to try a race -- it's not about speed, it's about having the guts to prepare and start, it's about trying something new to challenge yourself. The results are invariably amazing (see The Casual Ultramarathoner and Never too Late to Discover You're a Runner).

We all possess potential that lies far beyond our expectations. That's where a fresh challenge can help us get unstuck as it reminds us that we are capable of more than we think as long as we are willing to try and take that first step.

Getting to the swim meet was a matter of overcoming my reluctance -- mental resistance -- to showing up, fuelled by negative scenarios. Mental resistance can take many forms; I am most familiar with fear, procrastination, and being hard on myself.

"Resistance is not a peripheral opponent. Resistance arises from within. It is self-generated and self-perpetuated. Resistance is the enemy within," writes Steven Pressfield in The War of Art: Break Through the Blocks and Win Your Inner Creative Battles.

All of us battle resistance every single day. Awareness helps to overcome it.

In the superb Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail, Cheryl Strayed writes about the solo 1,100-mile hike from California to Washington state she undertook at the age of 26 after losing her mother to cancer sparked a deep personal crisis. Strayed had no previous overnight hiking experience.

On her first day on the trail, starting from the Mojave Desert, Strayed descibes her attitude toward the potential natural dangers including rattlesnakes, mountain lions and "wilderness-savvy serial killers".

"... I wasn't thinking of them. It was a deal I'd made with myself months before and the only thing that allowed me to hike alone. I knew that if I allowed fear to overtake me, my journey was doomed. Fear, to a great extent, is born of a story we tell ourselves, and so I chose to tell myself a different story from the one women are told. I decided I was safe. I was strong. I was brave. Nothing could vanquish me.

"Insisting on this story was a form of mind control, but for the most part, it worked. Every time I heard a sound of unknown origin or felt something horrible cohering in my imagination, I pushed it away. I simply did not let myself become afraid. Fear begets fear. Power begets power. I willed myself to beget power. And it wasn't long before I actually wasn't afraid. I was working too hard to be afraid."

Challenging our preconceptions about ourself -- our ability, our talent, our potential -- is necessary for growth. Doing so often inspires anxiety as our mind races through all the things that could go wrong, the ways we could fail, fall short of expectations -- our own or those of others.

I could not help but feel a wave of regret wash over me as we -- Coach Roseline and teammates Simon, Andrew, Tim and I -- arrived at the Vancouver Aquatic Centre where 119 people had registered to compete in this cross-shaped 50-metre pool; though 25-metre lanes were used for this meet.

Why did I make myself do this? A swimming competition? I am not a swimmer, certainly not a fast swimmer.

After we found a spot on the pool deck to park ourselves and our gear for the day, we began a warmup at 10am among the myriad of other competitors. Aside from getting your body ready to race, it is also helpful to navigate a pool you don't know, experienced teammate Simon said.

Indeed, the water was a touch cooler than I am used to, while the sides of the pool were very different to those at Brennan Park. I couldn't help but feel nervous between the organized chaos of swimmers warming up, even as I had ordered myself to stay calm. It was just a first swim meet after all, not a big race I had trained months for.

Like many of the swimmers, I took a couple of turns on the only start block (also different to the Squamish pool) where we were allowed to practice -- both times my goggles flew down my face as soon as I hit the water.

Why did I make myself do this?

The first heat in the first event, the 400 free, was scheduled to begin at 10:30am right after the warmup and I was in it -- the swimmers with the slowest time estimates go first.

Coach Roseline double-capped me to secure the goggles, as she had done in training earlier in the week; add one cap, then add goggles, add another cap over top low enough so it sits over the top rim of the goggles. She assured me they wouldn't budge.

I got ready to line up behind lane 6. An issue with the timing system delayed the start for about 15 minutes during which my goggles were so firmly pressed onto my eyes that I could barely stand it, but I didn't want to risk moving them from their failsafe position.

Then it was time for my debut as an indoor competitive swimmer. As you wait behind your lane, the timers check your name. Then there are two signals, one indicating you can step onto the block, and the next sigalling the "Take your mark" command will soon follow, upon which you stay completely until the Beep start signal, then you go.

As soon as I hit the water surface with my goggles still firmly in place, I relaxed instantly. I was in the water; all I had to do was swim 400 metres, sixteen 25s, though I count them as eight 50s. I felt good, smooth. I focused on breathing out under water, an easy thing to forget, and keeping track of the number of laps so I could pace the effort.

I wanted to beat the 7:32 I had swum in training 5-1/2 weeks ago, and I was very happy to swim 6:56.

Getting that first heat out of the way made all the difference; my dive was fine, the goggles stayed in place, and it was simply a matter of swimming back and forth. And I had just improved my 400 time by 36 seconds.

Coach Roseline was taking our 50m splits at each event, so we could see how we paced ourselves, how it compared with previous times, and our goals. Her enthusiasm at the meet, like in training, was infectious and encouraging. She loves the sport and she loves helping others love to swim, and swim faster.

A five-page program listed each heat with the names and times of competitors in every event so you knew when and in which lane to swim. It was fun and inspiring to watch the others, especially of course the other three Titans.

A swim meet is very different to the running races and triathlons I am used to -- there you have one start, and one finish. Here you race, hang out, eat, drink, time and watch others, race again, and repeat. There is no fixed start time for each event, and each heat -- just a fixed sequence, so must pay attention.

Next up was the 100 free. My 1:45 estimate had seeded me in the second heat, in lane 7. Now I was more relaxed though it is important to stay focused. In the heat before me, a guy lost his balance in between "Take your mark" and the start signal and was disqualified. He shrugged his shoulders, not a big deal but a shame to miss out on an event.

Two 50s, or four 25s, means going as fast as you can, though I have learned that at this stage my stroke is better if I don't try so hard. Again, my dive went smooth, as did my swim and I was thrilled with 1:27.

In the 200 later that afternoon, I swam 3:12 compared with my estimate for 3:45.

And in the 800, I swam 14:24, instead of my 17:00 estimate.

It was a great experience; by showing up I gained a much better handle on my swim times and fitness and found fresh concrete goals to aim for. Coach Roseline has been trying to get the Titans squad excited about the FINA World Masters Championships, held in Montreal next year. Aside from a 1K open-water event that anyone can enter, swimmers need to meet age group standards. Superb benchmarks.

So, not only did I survive my first swim meet, I enjoyed it and am already planning to take part in the next one, the MSABC Provincials in April, where I hope to secure at least one worlds standard. I need a 36 50m, 1:20 100m, 3:00 200m. 6:15 400m, 13:20 800m or a 45:50 50m breaststroke.

The one that speaks most to my imagination is the Sub-3 200m of course :-), as it has been a magical target that has been on my mind for a few years now, just not in minutes and in a different sport.

I have to be grateful for the injury that has sidelined me as a runner for eight months, and counting, as it has forced me to challenge a few key beliefs I had about myself. I love to run, I am a runner. But I don't want to be trapped by my inability to run and the conviction that no other form of exercise can replace it.

My key goal is still to return to running, so that I can resume my quest for the Sub-3 marathon. But in the meantime I am discovering and aiming for new targets to challenge myself, physically and mentally. Goals that force me to overcome mental resistance, in whatever form it may arise.

The swim meet helped me challenge the notion that I am not a swimmer.

I was a beginner runner once -- a woman who started jogging such short distances at such a slow speed that it would take a few years before I thought of myself as a runner. And it would take a few more years before I discovered an ability to run "fast".

Fast is relative, and that is a good thing. I have no plans to compete in Montreal in 2014. But you never know. It is all about finding inspiring goals to motivate your training, and to keep challenging the preconceived ideas you have about yourself.

And if you encounter resistance, embrace it, even follow it, Pressfield recommends: "The more important a call or action is to our soul's evolution, the more Resistance we will feel toward pursuing it."

Tapered for tomorrow's swim meet

2013-02-23T13:41:00.000-08:00

It's been a week that was focused on tomorrow's English Bay Swim Club "Love to Swim" meet at the Vancouver Aquatic Centre.

Coach Roseline Mondor-Grimm had a taper week in store for the four of us, all Squamish Titans, competing there tomorrow; this meant less volume and higher intensity over our three one-hour sessions in the past five days.

I also had to learn how to dive off the start blocks, something I had hoped to avoid by simply diving off the edge of the pool. The Coach said, firmly, "I'd rather you don't."

On Monday, those of us headed for the swim meet swam about 1.6K (compared with 2.5K in the previous session), with the longest set a 400 free, then it was time to practice our starts. Assistant Coach Yi-khy Saw, a 1500m specialist who swam for Malaysia at the 2004 Olympic Games in Athens, was on deck to help.

The others already knew how to dive off the blocks, and soon went to the other side of the lane to practice their flip turns with Yi-khy. Doing flip turns at the meet is beneficial, but optional -- a proper start is not, so Coach Roseline taught me how to do it.

There are two key things to focus on. One, Roseline said, you must stay still in the time between the "Take your mark" call and the "Beep" start signal -- movement means disqualification. This may seem obvious if you have watched swimming competitions on TV, as I have, but I am glad she reminded me because there are so many other things to think about on those blocks.

Such as not falling flat on your face and/or losing your goggles. Indeed, you must remember to tuck your chin to your chest before your head hits the water, Roseline said, as my goggles slid down my face during the first few attempts. I'd hate to swim 16 or 32 25m lengths without goggles on Sunday.

She recommended I put my feet side by side with my toes curled around the edge of the block. I double forward my body with my fingers gripping the block too, and my knees slightly bent. Once cleared by the start signal, I need to use my leg strength to push forward, which will lift my arms forward too, while keeping my chin firmly on my chest. Roseline recommended I do not look ahead for now.

I practiced on Monday and again on Wednesday, both for about 5 to 10 minutes. Hopefully that will allow for four smooth starts tomorrow -- staying motionless when required and keeping the goggles in place will be my key goals.

Wednesday was a sharpening session; again we swam 1.6K in total including 3 sets of four 50s, doing each set slow, medium, fast and superfast respectively. I did not feel superfast.

Friday morning's workout I almost missed as I woke up late and tired. I am glad I went, though, as the core set provided a great boost of confidence. After a 400 warm-up, we did 3 100s of drills, swimming on our side, and streamline kicking. Then we swam four 50s aimed at a target time, followed by 30 seconds rest between each (unless we missed the target time then the recovery got shorter).

The Coach had me aim for 50 seconds, saying 55 would be OK too. Swimming behind Andrew and Tim in the lane, I forgot to watch the clock in the first 50 metres. I thought I made the 50-second target in the other three, possibly even 45. I felt good, strong and comfortable in the water.

Next we swam another 400 free, then did a second set of four 50s. My goal was 50 seconds this time -- no leeway to 55. I paid better attention to the clock, and left when the four coloured hands were on 15, 30, 45, and 60 respectively, though I focused on the blue one on 30.

Both the coach and I were surprised to see me hit the wall in 43 seconds. And repeating that time in the other three 50s too. Roseline's coaching and the taper are working, yay!

Earlier in the week I had questioned my decision to do the meet, but now I am glad because it has helped me become more aware of my splits and current level of fitness. I will not be among the fast swimmers tomorrow, indeed I will be among the slowest, but I will certainly be a more educated, and therefore more motivated, one because of the preparation for the meet.

It is not just about times but knowing them helps gauge your progress, and encourages you to sustain the training. It has only been seven weeks since I joined Roseline's squad, and I cannot wait to see the results after another four months.

Each swimmer is allowed to compete in four events and had to provide time estimates for seeding. I opted for the 100, 200, 400 and 800 free, predicting I'll need 1:45, 3:45, 7:30 and 17:00.

The 100 free is the most popular at tomorrow's meet, with 89 people registered. My time estimate of 1:45 ranked me at 80, shared with two others including fellow Squamish Titan Andrew Clegg. Tim's 1:30:01 put him at 69, while the fastest Titan in this meet, Simon Crevier, is ranked a shared 13th with an estimate of 1:02.

The longer events are less popular: I am one of only 19 people listed to do the 800 free, and my 17:00 predicted time seeds me last. Both Tim and Andrew are among the 17 registered for the 1500.

Tomorrow will be the first time in eight years that I will swim 800m continuously, a thought that is less intimidating when considering that distance makes up less than a quarter of the 3.8K I will have to swim in August at Ironman Canada.

Words on Writing I Like: Deena Metzger

2013-02-22T09:19:00.000-08:00

"In their purest use, words not only describe reality and communicate ideas and feelings but also bring into being the hidden, invisible, or obscure. Words can leave us in the known and familiar or transport us to the unfamiliar, incomprehensible, unknown, even the unknowable. Words, therefore, are the primary route toward knowing the particular worlds we inhabit and our unique and individual selves."

- Deena Metzger in Writing for Your Life: A Guide and Companion to the Inner Worlds

Trying new things -- a swim meet

2013-02-17T10:24:00.002-08:00

This week I pushed away my final doubts and registered for the English Bay Swim Club "Love to Swim" meet held next Sunday, Feb. 24. You can register too until the 20th.

It will be my first time at a swim meet. I do (yet) not do flipturns and have yet to learn diving off the start blocks. But I can swim, which is a good start.

I opted for four freestyle events: the 100, 200, 400 and (gulp!) 800.

You have to provide your estimated finish times. I based mine on the 400m I did a month ago, when Squamish Titans swim coach Roseline Mondor-Grimm clocked me at 7:32.

For the meet, I estimated 7:30 for the 400, 17 minutes for the 800, 1:45 for the 100 and 3:45 for the 200.

Tim is registered too, he's doing the 50, 100, 400 and 1500 free. This will be his third swim meet, and Tim recommended I try one after doing his first two years ago encouraged by his then-swim coach Jan Francke.

The key goal for me is swim-specific fitness as I gear up for a return to triathlon, and Ironman.

"While the swim portion of the Ironman may only represent 10 percent of the race, it does play a significant role in the outcome. The time taken to exit the water is just a fraction of the whole picture of performance— the state in which we exit the water and how much energy is expended during the swim is critical to the overall performance at the end of the day," writes ironguides Coach Alun 'Woody' Woodward in Swim Technique - Part 1.

I am working hard on my swimming because it will help me lower the amount of bricks I will feel in my stomach come race day -- the more fit I can get in the water, the more comfortable I will be. Anxiety is a pre-race sensation I am looking to avoid at the start of Ironman Whistler in August.

My goal is to feel exited and confident, nervous in a good way, the way that helps sharpen your focus.

Sunday's meet will provide a great opportunity to test my current level of fitness, and watch some very fast swimmers in action.

Since the first week of January I have been training in the pool three times a week with the Titans, which means I have 18 one-hour sessions under my belt. I hope to do another three this week before Sunday's meet.

On Friday, I swam a little over 2.5K in the hour-long workout with coach Roseline. The longest continuous distance I have swum is 600 metres, so I'll be very curious to see how Sunday's 800 time will compare with my 400.

***

I have only once done a pure swim race, the 4.2K Across the Lake Swim in Taupo, New Zealand, in 2005, as Tim and I spent six weeks there getting ready for Ironman New Zealand. At its deepest point, the bottom of Lake Taupo is 186 metres below the water surface, an interesting fact to ponder as you swim across this massive body of water, also popular with cyclists as they follow the 160K around it in the annual Lake Taupo Cycle Challenge.

Getting ready to run again after injury

2013-01-28T13:54:00.000-08:00

It has been four months since I last ran, a 14-1/2 minute jog on October 1 that ended in pain, just like most of the jogs I did, as cleared and/or prescribed by various therapists, in the prior three months; never before in the 17 years I have been a runner have I been unable to run for 18 weeks.

It has changed me in ways that I will only be able to think about if, and when, I am able to run again. Without knowing whether I one day will be able to become again what I am, a runner, I cannot -- dare not -- think about what that means. It is simply too terrifying to consider.

I am a runner, and cannot not be one. Even when not running, I am and will always be a runner. For my own sanity, I have had to push the runner into the background by allowing her to do other types of exercise, but she knows that I am only doing them so that she can return, hopefully stronger than ever.

My body had made clear that treatments were not the answer to whatever its problem is: it stubbornly refused Active Release Techniques, chiropractic moves, ultrasound, deep tissue - and trigger point massage, and Intramuscular Stimulation (IMS) to provide anything but temporary relief and hope that was quashed in the next jog I was allowed to do.

An MRI showed nothing to explain, or solve, the pain in my heel. Neither my Achilles, plantar fascia nor a stress fracture could be blamed. One specialist thought a missing ligament might be the culprit, though this was dismissed by two other medical experts.

Tired of the medical merry-go-round, I have very much enjoyed a return to training in a new discipline, Bikram yoga, and a couple of old ones, swimming and cycling.

In the past seven weeks, I have done 28 Bikram yoga sessions. Each class has been challenging, each class has been rewarding, both physically and mentally. Each of the 26 postures in the series shows me where I am weak, tight, imbalanced; returning to class and trying again shows where I am becoming stronger, more flexible, slowly but surely syncing the left and right sides of my body.

Bikram yoga is hard work. It takes a lot of focus and mental resilience, yet it also requires the ability to let go, especially of expectations and judgement. As with many things in life, the hardest part is showing up for the 90-minute class -- I feel smashed after each one, in a good way.

It's about listening to the teacher who talks you into and through each pose; the more often you go, the better your body and mind absorb her words, taking you more accurately and deeper into the poses. It's about overcoming mental resistance to do the poses that are hardest for you, varying per person.

Each class I feel a tiny victory, a hip that moves a little better, a pose I can get into for the first time, or a little deeper, or hold a little longer. It's what motivates me to return to the 40-degree heat and work as hard as I can that day; I wholeheartedly believe that Bikram yoga is helping me to bring back that runner.

And yet I am scared. Increasingly so as February approaches. My heel can now handle three sets of 20 one-legged ankle raises, a threshold a specialist had said would clear me to try a run once I had been able to do them for two weeks in a row painfree.

Since mid December I have been able to walk doggy Luka again daily without worrying about heel pain.

And in the past week I have done two powerwalks, one of 45 minutes, and one of 55 minutes, followed by an hour swim and a Bikram session respectively, without protest from my foot. I do them because of this article Returning to Running After a Stress Fracture or Another Major Injury by Pete Pfitzinger.

"Before you can run you must be able to walk briskly without pain. During walking, your body absorbs forces of about 2 times your bodyweight. This is a stepping stone for determining when the injured bone will be able to handle the greater impact forces of running. When you can walk briskly for an hour without pain, you should be able to try a small dose of running," Pfitzinger writes.

"The impact forces of running, however, are over twice as great as for walking, so the only way to know whether your body is ready to handle running is to run."

And that is exactly my fear; as much as I am looking forward to running again, I am terrified that it might show my body is not ready after all, despite all the promising signs.

Despite the dozens of treatments I have had in these past seven months, despite the four months of complete rest from running, despite all the good advice from the people who have helped me, despite my own hard work on strength and flexibility, despite the fact that I am glad the injury has made me a triathlete again, despite the fact that I am loving the swim squad, and Bikram yoga sessions. Despite the calf raises, despite the powerwalks. Despite the patience, despite the confidence in my recovery.

I am scared to try that first run, and I am in no rush to do so, even as February is only three days away. Even as every single runner running past my office window gets me a little angry, jealous at their ability to run, especially if their face is showing discomfort or boredom instead of happiness and gratitude.

Tonight I'll powerwalk to the pool, 5K from my house along the exact same route I have run so many times. It seems that my powerwalking pace is 9 minutes per K, perhaps I'll take the Garmin tonight to register it more accurately. I want to do a few more powerwalks, and a few more sets of 20 calf raises, before I put my body to the test in miniscule runs of a couple of minutes at a time.

I have been waiting for seven months because I had no other choice, I can be patient for a little longer.

Running in Moscow, Russia

2013-01-24T11:24:00.002-08:00

Derek Gagne

After living in Squamish and Whistler for the past decade, two-time Ironman finisher Derek Gagne accepted a job working on the 2014 Sochi Winter Olympic Games.

The Senior Project Manager for Contemporary International arrived in Moscow in October 2012, just days before Ironman Canada said it had found a new home in his former backyard.

Alas, Derek consoles himself with a running regime as he believes it a perfect time to work on improving his marathon personal best time of 3:55:15. Moscow offers two marathons in the time he'll live there, and he plans to do both.

Derek spent his first two months getting used to his new environment, before heading back to Canada for the holidays. He'll return to Russia next month, this time with his wife Kirsten and their three young children; the family will be based in Moscow until October 2013, before moving to Sochi where they'll be until April 2014. They haven't yet made plans beyond that…

I was curious about his thoughts and experiences on running in Moscow, and here's what he said:

I assume you brought running gear with you. What did you bring? Anything you're missing?
I brought two brandnew pairs of shoes, clothes for indoor running at the gym and all my outdoor fall/winter running wear. My thermal Under Armour tights are a life saver and it is key to wear several base layers when outdoors here. It's windy. I also brought 24 Double Latte Power Gels, a few tubes of Nuun, my Garmin watch, Petzl headlamp, mini foam roller and all my favourite running toques. I brought all I needed to make it from October 11 to December 19.

During a break in Canada over the December 2012/January 2013 holidays, Derek decided to upgrade his Russian running wardrobe only with "an old-school track suit."
Even in Whistler, I just wear my normal running gear and add either the track pants or jacket or both depending on the weather. Just needed another layer but, quite frankly, I was too cheap to buy the 'proper' winter technical running gear as the window to use it is a small one. So far, what I bought is working out well for me with a toque and gloves.

Are there any running stores or some place that allows you to buy clothing, shoes, socks, nutrition for running?
I have not really looked yet as I have not needed to but I am sure they are here. The locals have an expression here: "In Moscow you can find anything you want...as long as you are willing to pay the price."

Funny story—I did come across one running store by luck just walking around, great shop, I was admiring the Salomon shoes with the metal spikes on the bottom. The owner of the shop did not speak great English but enough to tell me he competes in ultra races in the Alps. He said, "Ah you are from Vancouver, you have Arc'teryx...very good, I like."

Why did you decide to run there, rather than any other sport?
As a triathlete, of course I considered the three sports to try and stay in tri shape. Cycling here is a death wish. You only see bikes in the parks. I will swim to cross train but with no races on the horizon (tri races), not much point being in the pool too much. I decided to run because for me it is a great way to stay in all-around shape, I can do it anywhere.

I figure, if I can keep my weekly long-run fitness at two hours, I could do a half iron at any time; my swim and bike would not be as good as usual but if I keep the running, I know I will maintain the base I want and can plan to increase from two-hour long runs for a few marathons in 2013.

How long after you arrived in Moscow did you go for your first run?
About three days, I was jet-lagged and wide awake at 6am so I decide to go out on the sidewalks of the busy streets where I was living at the time.

How had you prepared?
I did not prepare at all—that was not smart. I went running down a busy street trying to get to a park and went the wrong way in the dark. I had my Petzl light on my head which was flashing: let me tell you, that got a lot of weird looks and some people stopped in their tracks to observe what this crazy person was doing.

What has surprised you?
The overall lack of outdoor recreation, although I knew this based on the research I had done prior to coming here. Overall, it is not a very fitness/wellness oriented culture—unlike Vancouver. For example, most people smoke, in restaurants, bars, cafes. I took my body about two weeks to adjust to the (poor) air quality. You go out on a run, even in the park, and it smells like cigarettes.

The other thing that surprised me is how aware you have to be of the road surface you are running on. Out of nowhere there are holes in the road, pieces of rebar sticking out, overall very uneven surfaces.

Have you seen any other runners at all so far? Are there running clubs? Races? Magazines (whether Russian or any other languages—a Runner's World available anywhere)?
I am now settled into a routine where I do short runs indoors at the gym during the week cause it's dark and I do my long runs on Sat and Sun in Gorky Park. Here there are many runners, roller bladers, cyclists—and NO cars. I have not yet found any clubs but there a few websites 42km.ru which is a good resource.

How many runs have you done by now?
I have been here just under two months and I have done at least 10 long runs in the park...not many, I know...still getting settled. I took me about two weeks to get over the jet lag, worst I have ever had as it is exactly 12 hours ahead.

What kind of routes have you found?
Gorky Park is great. You can do pavement (road), "seawall" along the river or go into the woods and do trails with some great hill climbs. I am very happy to be living next to this park. It is a great place along the Moscow river and can be compared to the Seawall in Stanley park. Without the trees, without the even road surface, and without the ocean but, regardless, you get my point – it's nice for Moscow.

There are great hills, trail running and the "seawall" along the river. You can easily do an out-and-back 20K run. And, there are other runners! You can tell the expats who are running because they recognize your gear (Ironman visor, Subaru shirt, Vancouver Marathon gloves) and they say hi. So, I have made it my mission to wave hello to every runner I see. Occasionally a few wave back and others just go along their way.

Do you feel comfortable running there?
Yes, absolutely, but it took a few weeks to get over the initial fear of traffic and stories of police stopping people to ask to see your passport (which I have not ever seen actually happen). I would say that other then the traffic, it just as safe as any other big international city.

What time of the day do you usually run?
For my long runs outside, usually around noon when it warms up and it is bright.

What do your colleagues think about your running? Any of them running with you?
Some have said, "That is crazy—it's too cold, that's too far, that's to dangerous..." Others are gym rats so they do not get it. Many of the gyms are more of a fashion show than a gym. None of them are running with me.

What are your running goals in Moscow, Sochi? Have those goals changed since you arrived?
For Moscow there are two marathons, one in May and one in September 2013. I would like to do both. I am still after my 3:45 (or better) PB. At this point I have no idea what Sochi will bring although I am told the traffic there is worse than Moscow because it does not have the public transit (metro) like Moscow.

Any cool local races you're drooling over? Any you've committed to?
Not committed to anything yet. Was looking at some winter ice marathons but logistically too complicated. I would like to get in two or three good marathons in 2013. I might also plan some vacation in Europe and tie in a race...I am starting my research.

Derek also decided to join a gym in Moscow and experienced his first spinning class.
This week was the first one where I really started to get into the return on the price of my gym membership (organ donation required). I joined a chain called World Class after visiting four other local gyms. This is the first gym membership I have purchased: as a triathlete, I run outside, bike outside and just go to the local rec centre pool. There are no rec centres in Moscow, not that I have found. So, as long as there is no ice on the ground, I will run outside but I have gotten into the pool (25m, two lanes), weights, core exercises and yes... a spin class.

I figured I should stay in triathlete shape for when they announce Ironman Moscow in 2013...

The gym is entertaining. The people range from your normal gym goer, to men who look like those strong men who pull a bus or jet with a rope (with the biggest beards I have ever seen), to the fashion queen in designer gym wear and D&G sun glasses (yes, sunglasses indoors).

Spin class...always wanted to try one, now is my chance to see if a keen cyclist can survive on spin classes alone. First, yes, the class is in Russian. The gym uses a program called LesMills; from what I gather they have a series of programs that gyms get certified to offer.

Even if in Russian I thought, how hard can it be, pedal fast, pedal hard, out of sadle....just watch and copy the instructor. It turns out to be really fun and it is one hell of a workout as the class lasts 55 minutes, and it is high intensity. And, they use some key English words thrown in with the Russian like: easy, race, aero, plus (more tension). All this to say it is fun.

My last class, the instructor asked me a question to which I replied "No Russian, English" (with my broken Russian). He then said something in Russian and the entire class laughed so not sure what that was about...

Follow Derek's life in Moscow on http://gofasterdada.blogspot.ca/
Check out his professional page at http://derekgagne.com/

Swimming: a 400m baseline time

2013-01-17T13:00:00.000-08:00

Last night was my fifth session with the Squamish Titans' masters swim squad led by coach Roseline Mondor Grimm. We began with an easy 300-metre warmup, using whatever stroke we wanted. I opted for a mix of freestyle, breast stroke and backstroke.

Next up were four sets of the following: 50m regular swim, then 50 sprinting (freestyle) as hard as possible, following by 50 of gliding, i.e. swimming with relaxed long strokes. We had 20 seconds of rest between each 50.

Then there was the core set; the two fastest lanes had three sets of 400m -- the first was a timed 400 freestyle, followed by a minute rest, then a 400 freestyle with pullbuoy, another minute rest, and a 400 with fins.

The 'slowest' two lanes, which include me, only had to do the 400 pullbuoy and 400 fins.

I love swimming with a pullbuoy, and fins make it completely effortless. In our 25m pool, we had to count eight 50s of course, which can get a little more confusing than you'd think. It was a nice set.

As I was getting ready for the final 200 cooldown, Coach Roseline suggested I try a timed 400 freestyle as well. Erm, OK.

Thirty seconds later I was off on my first unassisted 400-metre swim in, well, forever. I focused on two things: keeping track of the laps and breathing as calmly as possible. I pushed myself and soon enough very much enjoyed the challenge. Having struggled with a running injury since late June, I have missed the pleasure and satisfaction that hard endurance efforts against the clock bring.

I had no idea of what lap times I was swimming; I can tell you my kilometre and mile pace for every race distance as a runner, but any references in the water are only held in my mind by half Ironman and full Ironman swim split times from races done in 2005 and earlier.

The final two 50s I tried to push a little harder; I could hear Coach Roseline yell encouragement each time I pushed off the side of the pool where she was timing me. The result was 7:31. Partly because I was tired from the effort, and partly because I don't recall doing any timed 400s before, I said I had no idea what that meant, as in, I had no reference point.

She said it was good because it meant I had kept it under 8 minutes, and the simple math of sub-60-second 50s occurred to me.

In a way it was harder to do the timed 400 after the other two (and the previous 750m) because I was a little tired and because I had just experienced the extra buoyancy and power of using the pullbuoy in one set and fins in the next, neither of which I could use in the timed set of course.

But it was also mentally easier because I had just felt how long it took to count eight 50s twice before, and by starting a little fatigued I had less energy to begin too fast.

I'm glad Coach Roseline encouraged me to do it. It's great to have a benchmark 400 time to work with, and aim at improving it over the next few months.

I also came across this neat comparison between 400m swim- and 1-mile run times on Let'sRun.com.

My best timed one-mile run is 5:42 (set in mid-2012), compared with 7:31 for my 400m swim, of course set yesterday. I look forward to narrowing the difference -- hopefully not just by having slowed down in my running in the layoff because of injury :-).

Tim has swum a sub-6-minute 400m (set in mid-2012 in, of all things, an 800m time trial where he covered the first 400 in 5:54 and the second in 5:59), while his fastest timed one-mile run is a 6:06, also done in mid-2012.

How do your 400m swim and 1-mile run times stack up? Worth testing, just for fun, if you haven't already.

A welcome gift for new squad members

And, fittingly given the timed effort, Coach Roseline last night handed all new squad members including me the Squamish Titans swim cap.

You can find more info on the Squamish Titans here; the running program begins next Tuesday, details coming soon.

Can this triathlete finally learn to swim?

2013-01-15T11:53:00.002-08:00

I did my first triathlon on June 27, 1999, at the age of 29. The almost-Olympic-distance race was held at Guelph Lake, Ontario. There were 13 of us in the 25-29 age group. The swim was 1.5K and I made it out of the water in 36:13, swimming breast stroke as I could not do freestyle, 11th out of the 13.

(The 40K ride took me 1:25:26, good for 10th out of the 13, and I needed 53:18 to cover the 9.5K run, 9th out of 13. My total race time was 3:01.)

My third triathlon was the half Ironman in Forster-Tuncurry, the home of the Australian Ironman for two decades until 2005, on December 3, 2000. In Forster, I took 46:38 to cover the 1.9K swim, among the last out of the water in a field of 732 athletes. Tim took 35:22. (I finished the whole race in 6:04:16, while Tim took 6:01:12.)

Next up the Canberra half Ironman on December 17, 2000; I spent 45:59 in the water and was the slowest out of the 22 in my age group by almost three minutes. The only other woman in my age group who needed more than 40 minutes to complete the swim took 43:01; the fastest woman in my category swam a super-swift 24:37.

To say that the swim was a struggle for me is an understatement.

In early 2001 I got my first coach -- Sydney-based John Hill, triathlon coach and elite age-group triathlete who by now has more than 50 Ironmans under his belt -- 95 percent of those were Sub-10, according to his website.

By then I had completed four triathlons, two Olympic distances in Canada and two half Ironmans in Australia, where I had moved for work on my 30th birthday in June 2000. Those races cemented two things for me; I liked triathlon and I could not swim, especially compared with Australian triathletes seemingly born to move through water like fish.

Hill's group of triathletes would meet for open water swims, either at Bondi Beach, or one of the other Eastern Suburbs' beaches, or Manly Dam, and I was consistently among the slowest for the four years I trained with them. Hill's group included some outstanding athletes and several went on to become professional triathletes and age-group champions. Others were 'regular' age groupers.

(His squad also produced a slew of triathlon coaches. And triathlete marriages, and babies.)

All training in the water was helpful, though no miracles followed. It seemed to be a lot of hard work with only minor improvements at best.

In the 2001 Canberra half Ironman, I swam 44:17, 26th out of the 29 in my AG and 724th out of a field of 756 athletes. By comparison, I rode 3:03, 13th in my AG and 642nd overall, and ran 1:49:55, 9th in my AG and 502nd overall, for a 5:37 finish time.

Still, it was better than the 50:05 I had needed in the Cairns half Ironman in June 2001, though this was an ocean swim days following a shark sighting.

At the 2002 half Ironman in Canberra, I swam 44:33, 39th out of the 40 in my division, and 772nd out of 812 athletes overall. My 3:36 bike (28th in my AG and suffering a flat on my rear wheel) and 1:46:27 run (5th in my AG) helped me finish in 6:07:46, 18th in my category.

Hill, however, stressed the importance of continuing to practice the swim, often considered of relative unimportance by triathletes since it takes up little time of any triathlon; a race is rarely won in the water, and it's human nature to be drawn to spend more time on things we are good, or at least better, at.

But Hill argued that the sooner you get out of the water, the better the athletes you'll be riding with. While drafting is not allowed, it's helpful to ride with stronger cyclists at a draft-legal distance (varying in distance but always at least 7 metres). It was key to keep working on swim technique in an effort to improve speed, he said.

So I kept at it. Tim and I did a Total Immersion Swimming course with Australia's Shane Gould who won three gold medals, a silver and a bronze at the 1972 Olympics.

I also remember swimming in a group coached by Spot Anderson, a talented and quirky fixture on the Australian triathlon scene since the 1980s.

The last time I swam with a squad was in early 2004, when I was swimming in the 50-metre Cook + Phillip pool in Sydney, Australia, initially coached by Neil Rogers before he moved to the Bondi Icebergs pool (another location for my swim workouts and one of the most stunning pools in the world). Neil swam for Australia at the 1972 and 1976 Olympic games.

As I worked on my swimming, it remained my weakest discipline without a doubt. Even in my fastest half Ironman -- 5:22:11 in Forster in late 2002 -- I needed 40:24 for the swim, after clocking 38:23 on the same course the previous year, my PB and only time I dipped under 40 minutes for that distance.

In my first Ironman (Forster-Tuncurry, Australia) in April 2002, I swam 1:19:27 in the salt-water lake. The following year, on the same course, though different conditions, I swam 1:17:16, and in April 2004 I got out of the water in 1:20:20 -- though this was a non-wetsuit swim because of the heat.

Next up, three months after the previous IM, I did Ironman Germany -- a distastrous swim, starting in the middle of the pack, and soon enough hyperventilating in the crowd of about 3,000 athletes, finishing in 1:18:55. Still not very fish like.

By then, Tim and I were travelling for a year. We were still coached by Hill, though obviously unable to train with the squad. His programs always listed when to swim, though not how. In September 2004, Tim and I began following the detailed swim workouts from Paul Huddle & Roch Frey's book Start to Finish: 24 Weeks to an Endurance Triathlon. We also followed the book's strength training program for six weeks.

These workouts included plenty of drills. And in March 2005, at Ironman New Zealand, all my hard work finally seemed to pay off: I swam 1:13:35 to cover the 3.8K in Lake Taupo. I was thrilled, even though still only 32nd out of the water in my age group. By comparison, a 3:57:29 run split there ranked me 7th in my division.

Of course that was my last triathlon. While I thought it a shame to let go of those hard-won gains, I also did not feel motivated at all to swim in the next 7-1/2 years, as I focused on my running.

I got back into the pool after signing up for Ironman Whistler 2013 to help pull myself from the depressed stupor a stubborn running injury had put me in. I anticipated another Herculean struggle. It is what I associated swimming with and I prepared myself for a very hard road back to a level of swimming fitness and ability that would allow me to finish an Ironman swim of 3.8K, regardless of time.

Easing back into the first nine sessions on my own, guided by workouts Tim wrote for me, I moved through the water better than I thought I would in the first half of November in those first few laps.

Then the local pool closed for annual maintenance and upgrades, and I didn't return until January 7 when I joined the Squamish Titans masters swim squad coached by Roseline Mondor Grimm, an NCCP swimming coach and ex-competitive swimmer who is now a Master Long-Distance swimmer.

I was worried, for sure. But, surprisingly, the first four one-hour sessions have been OK; I actually feel good in the water -- there's more gliding than fighting involved -- and the coach even tells me that I'll be speeding up as my swimming fitness improves. While that doesn't mean I'll be heading for the Olympics any time soon, it does provide a sparkle of hope that I am finally learning to swim.

To be continued ...

Writing success = showing up at the page

2013-01-10T11:32:00.001-08:00

Some output of the past 6 months

Key advice from and for most writers is that you must show up at the page, if not daily then at the very least more often than not. That's certainly what I have done in the time since I last published a book, From my Mother, in October 2011.

This morning I finished another journal, an A4-sized 192 pages that I began on September 26 (2012). The cover is a beautiful green, following up on a similar one in bright pink that I had filled with my words between July 29 and September 25 (the bottom two in the image).

"The important thing is that keeping a journal is one way, and a well-established way, of developing your writer's muscles and of creating the material (the clay, the ingredients) for the more substantial writing that you want to do," writes Sara Maitland in The Writer's Way.

Many writers keep journals. John Steinbeck wrote his Journal of a Novel as a warmup exercise for working on East of Eden. While Journal of a Novel was not intendend for publication, Steinbeck's notes are full of superb advice.

"Just as it always does – the work started without warning. It is always that way. I must sit a certain time before it happens," Steinbeck writes.

His book inspired me in June to start a new file on my computer titled Journal of a Book. Unlike Steinbeck, I didn't have a specific story in mind, at least not specific enough to my liking, so I hoped that the notes I kept in this folder would help me find one.

Cover

Between June 15 and July 29, about 40,000 words accumulated in that document; I turned it into into a 132-page paperback titled Journal of a Book. It's private, not for publication. I wanted something tangible to show for my writing efforts to keep in my office.

Increasingly, however, I prefer handwriting in a journal, certainly in the stage where I am still looking to translate my thoughts into words on paper, simply a way of grabbing hold of part of the intangible stream of consciousness swirling around my mind and body. It's part of the process, and cannot be skipped.

"[T]he first goal of writing, like reading, is to understand; only then can one make that understanding available to others in writing," according to VA Howard and JH Barton in Thinking on Paper: Refine, Express, and Actually Generate Ideas by Understanding the Processes of the Mind.

Writing in a journal, I always use the same instrument; it's a Waterman fountain pen given to me by a good friend when I left Brussels to transfer as a reporter with Bloomberg News to the Toronto office. The inscribed date reads 20-3-1998; it is a small miracle I have never lost this pen in my many moves since, and it is now a very prized possession indeed.

There's something about the way this pen sends the ink to the page that I love.

I now use it daily, nearly every morning; writing is about practice, and then practicing some more, moving this fountainpen across lined journal pages at the start of each my days. Getting up early on Canadian winter mornings, I have begun lighting candles instead of turning on the light in my office; the warm flickering glow across the page seems to suit both the paper and ink better.

Write, write, and write some more

Throughout 2012, in a separate diary (the red one in the picture) I kept daily notes on my running, which went from my best races to dealing with an injury as I have never experienced before. This diary with a page for each a day is a good record that I am so glad to have kept as it has been helpful in keeping track of what turned out to be my body's best and worst times ever.

From the peak of fitness, culminating in a 3:00:29 marathon in May, to its rebellion six weeks later, followed by months of resistance to various types of treatment and, only just recently, a turn for the better as I am slowly transforming my body into a Bikram-yoga-practicing triathlete. She's completely motivated by the runner who has been locked inside for the past six months, and counting.

Another notebook, about 200 pages and kept more haphazardly, I completed between my birthday in June 2011 and July 25, 2012, the majority of which I wrote in 2012.

And in the 30 days of November, I typed about 52,000 words as part of National Novel Writing Month, which would be a paperback of nearly 200 pages.

Then there are the blog posts I regularly write for this site; I published 96 of them in 2012. That would add up to another 48,000 words if they are on average 500 words each (this one alone is a little over 1,300 words).

I had hoped to complete a manuscript for another book in 2012, but it didn't happen. However, that does not mean I am not writing. Indeed I am writing more than ever as I am searching to create a different book than the ones I have done before, and the quest is taking the time it needs to take.

Hard consistent work will eventually pay off, I am certain of that.

Meanwhile, I keep showing up at my desk, first thing every morning. A mug of steaming coffee, my favourite fountain pen and, tomorrow, a fresh journal, a new page. The output is there, a book will follow.

The backyard project keeps on growing...

2013-01-02T22:03:00.003-08:00

What began as a simple project to replace a fence that ran along the back of our backyard grew to taking down another 50-foot fence on the side of the house and an 8-foot panel on the other side, and demolishing a big shed -- the latter a tour de force Tim and I started on Saturday and finished on Sunday.

Removing the roof's shingles.

We began by emptying the shed of the stuff we had stored in it -- tons of old wood, a satellite dish, a door. We used a screw driver to take off the door, the easy part. Then we took turns standing inside while punching out the roof with an old painter's extension pole, a solid strength workout as it was covered in a 2-inch layer of moss, and another 2-inch layer of snow.

We wore glasses to protect our eyes.

Tim loves a good demo.

We used the Stanley "Wonderbar" to pull off the trim from the outside corners we could reach, then handled the hammer to knock out the siding, again standing on the inside of the shed.

Then came the tricky part -- taking down the frame. We didn't want to risk working further on the inside of the shed while removing more parts to weaken the structure. Since the shed partly overhung the ravine, we needed to be careful that we didn't accidentally push it down the hill -- there was no risk to anyone, we just didn't want a pile of old wood in the forest below.

Almost down ...

And it would be a nightmare to have to retrieve it from there.

We also had to be careful that the remainder of the shed wouldn't sway to the side of the neighbour's; again, no risk of harming anyone, as they weren't home. We wanted it to fall to our right, into our yard, but without destroying a fence post that was only a metre beside the structure.

So we positioned ourselves side by side, and began rocking the structure back and forth -- pulling on the roof's edge, in a diagonal line to where we wanted it to end up. As the movement gathered strength, the structure began to sag increasingly though slow enough for Tim to take a picture.

Then we pushed it back and forth, back and forth, until we believed we had enough momentum, stood clear ... and watched it crumble in the exact spot we had wanted it to. High five!

Taking down the structure had taken about three hours of hard work; it was time for some rest and a Bikram yoga session.

Happily oblivious to the next day's work.

The challenge that awaited us on Sunday was dismantling the fallen structure. We wanted to split the roof into the four parts it had been constructed in, which required more hammering, Wonderbarring, but especially sawing the supporting beam. Tim took care of the latter, as I lacked the strength to do that -- though I tried.

Meanwhile, a friend asked for part of the wood to build a treehouse for his kids and came to take a bunch of 2x4s from the shed's sturdy frame on Sunday morning, another load on Sunday afternoon after we had finally managed to dissect the roof into four pieces. (Today he came to pick up a final stack that contained the fence boards of six 8-foot panels).

This fit a ton (and a half) of stuff.

But there was still a ton left to get rid of -- literally, and then some. Tim called the guy who replaced our roof a few years ago, and he agreed to rent us his truck. He came to check out the amount of wood we wanted him to take to the local tip and estimated we'd be able to fit it in comfortably if we loaded efficiently -- the truck holds about 1,500 kilograms.

A day off on Tuesday, New Year's Day, was the perfect time to do it.

January 1, 2013, turned out to be a beautiful sunny winter day. We began shortly before 11am, though we had carefully considered our plans the day before. First we loaded one of the four roof panels upside down in the truck; the length just fit. Then we loaded fence boards into the structure, and the debris that was a mix of shingles, moss and snow, before adding another roof panel and repeated the process, then did the same for the next two.

Hard work, and unfortunately we had to be neat about it -- we couldn't just fling debris into the truck, as it became increasingly clear it would be a tight fit. We dragged beam after beam, carefully avoiding a myriad of long and nasty nails still sticking out from them, and focused on adding one piece to the pile at a time. Somehow the pile in the yard got lower, and the one in the Ford got higher.

The shed's foundation.

As the piece de resistance we got to the foundation of the shed; here it was time to use a pick-axe, a first for me. It is amazing how precise swings from way above your head can be when you're aiming to get right between a couple of 1x3s.

Swinging that pick axe felt great.

Learning to get rid of the foundation for something that was no longer functional but that had seemed too tough to tackle provided a renewed sense of capability; I like working with my hands.

Truck stuffed - and so were we.

By 4pm we had piled as much into the truck as was possible. Most of the debris was gone; we each had hauled well over 700 kilograms of wood into the truck, and a few 100kg of stuff that went to a good (tree) home.

Demolishing all those items in the backyard that had been bothering me since we moved into the house four years ago felt like such a great way to finish 2012. The weather, while cold, had been beautiful and it was spectacular to work in the snow.

Beginning the New Year with productive teamwork to rid ourselves of the things that no longer served us was also very satisfying. At Bikram yoga last night, the teacher mentioned that 2013 is a year of the Snake, a time for shedding old skin, she said; Tim and I have made an appropriate headstart.

There is still plenty of work ahead, yet it is of a constructive and creative nature. The slate has been wiped clean to start afresh, ready to be rearranged as we'd like it to be. Happy New Year!

(pre-)Ironman training begins

2012-12-31T22:04:00.000-08:00

As the New Year approaches rapidly, it's time to do some planning for the 2013 athletic season; mine will certainly look very different than it has the past seven years. (Here's a great article on the importance of season planning by ironguides' Austria-based Coach Alun 'Woody' Woodward.)

For the past seven years, my race planning revolved around marathons, with 10Ks and half marathons, and the odd ultra, thrown in as preparation, finetuning, or pure fun. My training consisted of running, as did my races. I ran. Period. Choose a marathon, start specific training four months earlier. Recover at least one month. This is how I planned my seasons for the past 12 marathons, or seven years, and loved it.

2013 will be different. There will be cycling, and swimming, and yoga. And -- hopefully -- running too.

For me, this year is all about Ironman Whistler, my goal race of the year, about finding the courage to start. Held on August 25, I'd like to use a 16-week race-specific preparation -- this means that real Ironman training starts on May 5.

There are another 18 weeks between today and May 5. And that's a very good thing; the last time I raced, and trained, as a triathlete was in March 2005. You can imagine that both my swimming and cycling need a little work.

One benefit of a temporary inability to run (I've been struggling with heel pain for six months after allowing myself to be guided into a high-intensity program too soon after my fastest marathon) is that it makes time-consuming triathlon training easier to manage; it's always good to look on the bright side of things.

As of January 7, I will begin swimming with the Titans; Coach Roseline Mondor Grimm leads a masters program that involves three one-hour sessions a week. Those are held on Monday evening, Wednesday evening and Friday morning, so that's the weekly swimming taken care of. These sessions also help firm up my new weekly schedule.

I don't expect to finish the one-hour whole workouts initially; the local pool has just reopened after a six-week closure for annual maintenance and upgrades. Prior to the closure on November 12, I got into the water nine times with my longest swim covering 1.5K in total.

As of this week, I plan to cycle on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, with the latter reserved for the longer rides; those will all be done indoors until Spring, mostly on the windtrainer at home, though Tim and I also plan to accept a local bike store's offer to use its Computrainer sometimes.

I first got back on my bike, on the windtrainer, on October 16, before I knew I'd sign up for Ironman two days later, as I was desperate to return to some kind of training; since then I have done about two dozen spins, though only two of those happened in December -- we were away for a couple of weeks and upon our return near-daily Bikram yoga sessions have taken up most of my time and energy. Today I did my 16th Bikram session in 22 days.

Tim and I opted to buy a second windtrainer, which we did not think particularly luxurious for two Ironman triathletes training in a Canadian winter, even if only a West Coast one. Previously Tim had this toy all to himself, as I simply never used the bike I have thought of selling many times.

We got a great Black Friday deal on a Cycleops Mag+ in the Western Bikeworks store in Portland (also, Oregon has no sales tax). The bike is now set up in my office, and I like the new view from my desk.

I will continue doing yoga (I'll likely stick with Bikram), though I won't be going as often as I have in the past 22 days.I will also keep doing daily exercises to strengthen my feet, ankles and calves, and plan to add core strength exercises; the key is to develop a sustainable routine that is effective and time-efficient, and fits into the weekly schedule.

Training is all about consistency, ask any coach. Eight months is a long time to stay consistent, so it is crucial to avoid burning out before you even get to the Ironman-specific preparation phase. In the five Ironmans I did between 2002 and 2005, I found the third month of each four-month prep the hardest to sustain and I certainly wasn't alone in the squad I trained with back then.

Mental and physical fatigue can easily overwhelm the Ironman triathlete after a few months of training just a little too hard too often, breaking the willpower and ability to remain consistent in the Iron prep at a time when it is most needed.

To help break up the season and get some much-needed refreshment in tri racing, I have entered the Victoria Half Ironman on June 16; this will be my first half Ironman since I last did one, in Nieuwkoop, the Netherlands, in May 2004. (A race report on my chilly experience there, titled Triathlon Popsicle, ran on Xtri.com; my body had adapted to the Aussie climate by then and did not appreciate the return to water temperatures of my native land.)

For the past six months I hung in the unpleasant no-man's land of injury, suspended in the unknown, expecting to be training and racing again "soon". Planning revolved around injury treatment, while training sessions began in hope and ended in disappointment.

In August I entered an early December marathon as I believed, as did those who treated me, that surely I'd be running by then. I still am not of course but I have made great progress; I am focusing on the things I can do and plan accordingly. It has taken me a few months to find joy in training that does not involve running, but now I am grateful for the forced change in pace.

Planning the athletic year ahead is exciting and fun -- I hope yours is taking shape too.

Wishing you a healthy, fit, happy and inspired 2013!

Update on DIY backyard cedar fence

2012-12-28T13:54:00.003-08:00

The fence in the backyard is progressing well. As mentioned in this previous post, I am a novice carpenter so this is easy to do. I began by cladding the front of the old 4x4 posts, which did not need replacing but were a different wood, in cedar 1x4s; once the weather permits I will paint the sides of the old posts.

Then Tim and I began placing the 1x6s, three per panel. We opted to start at the far right, and spaced them 12-1/2 inches apart in height to allow for two 1x3s between each 1x6. We also chose to make them level, though the retaining wall is not; it may have been at one point but certainly no longer is.

Once the first three 1x6s were in, we matched the height of each one on the subsequent panels to the left, still using the level on each.

We had to cut the length of some of the 1x6x8s, and this prompted us to switch from the hand saw to the power mitre saw, a tool we have owned for at least three years but had not yet tried. It is actually very easy to use, though naturally you must pay attention and wear protective ear plugs and glasses.

Once the 1x6s were in place, it was time to head back to Rona. They only had 10-foot 1x3s in stock but with the power mitre saw that was not a problem. The guys were laughing at me for building a fence in winter, though I was not alone in their lumber yard; they have been very helpful including with fitting these twenty-eight 10-footers in the Pathfinder.

We used two shorter 1x3s to space them from each 1x6, an easy and surefire process to line up all boards neatly; they also only needed one screw on each side so the job of adding four 1x3s to each of the seven panels went much quicker than I had thought. (Rona suggested to allow at least 3/4 of an inch from any edge to prevent the cedar from splitting; I used one inch everywhere.)

There is more work left to do; we need to decide how to finish the top of the fence posts, which are currently very uneven, as you can tell, and possibly add another 1x3 near the ground. Again, the cedar planks are perfectly level, the retaining wall that carries them is not. On the far right side, there is a small section -- perhaps a foot wide -- that we still need to replace; if possible we may opt for a tiny gate there to allow access to the ravine.

The bigger challenge is to finish the fence on the left side as a big shed needs to be tackled first, a project we plan to attempt tomorrow. The shed, which looks more ramshackle on the outside than it is structurally on the inside, overhangs the retaining wall. It's about eight foot at the highest point.

Both Tim and I have enjoyed demolishing and rebuilding the fence; as novice DIYers it is empowering to realize a project that had seemed too hard is actually quite manageable. I absolutely love working with cedar; it's soft yet sturdy, the colour is warm and diverse, and it smells fantastic.

And Luka isn't complaining either, as he loved playing ball in the snow between each board going up.

Running injury: a blessing in disguise

2012-12-26T12:26:00.003-08:00

The past 12 months have been dramatic, to say the least. As a runner, I have enjoyed the highest highs and suffered the lowest lows.

2012, which marked my 17th year as a runner, began with a training regime I loved and responded well to, both mentally and physically. Everything clicked; I thoroughly enjoyed my training and saw the results in races, lowering my best times for the half marathon to 86:54 (from 88:13 in 2008) and the 10K to 39:39 (from 39:51 in 2008).

Those PRs were simply picked up along the way to my key goal -- improving my 3:06:06 marathon, set in October 2011 when I bested another 2008 PB by 64 seconds. Consistent marathon training and racing since June 2005 paid off in May this year when I ran 3:00:29 in the Vancouver marathon, a 5-1/2 minute improvement. I was on top of the world, and I knew I could go faster.

Then I made what turned out to be a critical mistake.

Instead of taking my usual time to recover, allowing at least four weeks, I embarked on a 10-week running clinic that started two weeks after the marathon. It was led by a coach I was keen to work with and I was not sure if the opportunity would come around again. It was high intensity and I ran my best times for 400m, 800m, the mile and 2 miles, all within six weeks of my fastest marathon. I also raced a 10K and a half marathon.

Not a good idea...

Increasing tightness turned into pain and six weeks later I knew something was very wrong, though did not yet have a clue about the extent of it.

I have always been extremely careful, taking care to avoid injury. I love to run, and I want to be able to do so as long as I live. Until this summer I had enjoyed nine injury-free years, during which I raced three Ironmans, 12 marathons in 3:15 and faster, completed five ultras (one 45K, two 50-milers, and two 100Ks), and a slew of other shorter running races and triathlons; I am very disciplined and work hard at staying healthy.

My success in warding off injury was part of the reason I let my guard down when I should have been most careful, and I am still suffering the consequences; I have not run for three months, and even in the prior three months my kilometres run totalled 200K at most. (That's an average of 15K a week -- in comparison, I ran at least 100K a week from July 2011 through September 2011, and again from January through April this year without any issues). I probably will not try to run again until February.

An MRI in early November (there is a two-month wait period) showed little to explain the pain in my right heel/ankle.

Crazy.

The healing procress has been frighteningly slow. It is only in the past couple of weeks that I am starting to feel a real difference; I can now walk the dog again without pain during or afterward. And I have been able to do Bikram yoga, eleven sessions in the past 14 days; at the start of July I had bought a 20-visit pass, valid until January 2nd, but stopped going as it aggravated the pain in my ankle/heel and I first needed to find out what was going on.

It is only now that I can truly start to picture running again, and that I am able to see the injury may prove to have been a blessing in disguise.

Bloodwork done because of my injury helped detect that my calcium was low, so I am now taking a supplement to boost it. The results also prompted my GP to recommend I take vitamin B12 and D and magnesium. (My iron levels were excellent, however).

To help the healing I also made significant changes to my diet, cutting down on caffeine, alcohol, sugar and gluten, while boosting the amount of veggies and fruit. Bread and pasta formed a huge part of my diet for years and nearly eliminating them has been enjoyable so far, even if a little challenging at first.

In October I signed up for Ironman Whistler 2013 because I needed positive motivation to swim and cycle again for the first time in more than seven years, cross training that I have been encouraged to do while the injury heals. I doubt I'd otherwise have entered what will be my first Ironman in 8-1/2 years. And by now I am excited about it, even if still scared too.

With the help of Tim, who gave me some fantastic workouts, I returned to the pool and found that I did not drown, even actually enjoyed swimming again after such a long layoff; freestyle has never been my forte. I am now comfortable enough to join the Titans' masters swim program, which offers three sessions a week; in fact, my first race of the season might be a swim meet -- gulp! -- on February 24 in Vancouver with the club.

I had hoped to start 2013 with the First Half Marathon and have until January 9 to accept a spot, but that is not a good idea, as tempting as it is.

Meanwhile, spinning on the wind trainer has also proved a welcome outlet for pent-up energy, and the Argon 18 Platinum and I have reconnected on short easy sessions of between 30 and 60 minutes so far.

The injury has forced me to work on strength and flexibility, and I can only benefit from this. The postures in Bikram confirm I have plenty of tightness, weakness and imbalance; they are pretty good at pointing out their exact location too. This also confirms, indeed strengthens, my belief that I can improve all the personal records I set this year with a stronger, more flexible and balanced body.

I hope to do another five Bikram classes before the end of the year to finish the remainder of my pass, and I certainly plan to incorporate this or another type of yoga in my training regime in 2013.

Also part of my new rourtine are specific exercises for my feet and ankles. My supportive sponsors Drs Paul Fleming and Leah Stadelmann have provided me with great strengthening exercises for my foot, aside from a slew of treatments, while Australia's Dr Daryl Phillips, the first ART therapist I ever saw because of an ITB injury in 2003, has given me superb ankle-mobilization exercises. I thank them for their ongoing support, which has been much appreciated.

A sports med specialist in Vancouver told me that calf raises were the key to my return to running; when I last saw him on December 12, he gave me a concrete goal; when I can do three sets of 20 single calf raises with fast drops without pain, I can try a run. He estimated it might take me six weeks. He also recommended I learn to balance on the ball of each foot for 30 seconds.

The No. 1 priority remains a return to injury-free running, period. For now, it is about Bikram, swimming and cycling, strengthening, and mobilizing. And calf raises.