This site’s always been a bit of a sandbox. Lately, I’ve been thinking it could also be a place to share the gear I’ve actually used, broken, fixed, and replaced — not just because someone paid me to say it’s great, but because I needed it to not suck when it mattered.

So yeah — I’m adding some product stuff here. Reviews? Maybe. Rants? Probably. Affiliate links? Also yes, because if I’m going to spend 45 minutes writing about a headlamp or running vest that doesn’t bounce like a caffeinated ferret, I might as well get coffee money from it.

This doesn’t mean geodee.com becomes a product dump. It’s still me — still weird, still scattered, still figuring it out. But I’m spinning up athlidiot.com too — where I’ll go deeper into the “gear + grit” angle. That’s where I’ll throw the heavier stuff: training notes, race disasters, the backpack I swore I’d never use again but now secretly love. You know. The usual.

If you’re into that kind of thing — gear with a bit of mileage and some attitude — stick around. If not, no worries. I’ll still be yelling into the void either way.

The post What the hell am I even doing with my life? appeared first on geodee.

When I exited the finisher’s recovery area, the first question Christine had for me (after asking if I was alright) was “are you disappointed?” I had just finished my first competitive full-distance Ironman, dropping nearly 3 hours off my last attempt at this distance, six years ago, with a 10:06 finishing time. 15th in my highly-competitive age group (out of 258) and 86th overall (out of 2396). I could still feel the buzz from the crowd and the electrically charged finish on my skin—disappointment was not a feeling I could understand at that point. However, it was a valid question. Christine knew how high I had set the bar before I even signed up for this race.

The battle for the overall win in this race was between two pros from Ontario; Lionel Sanders and Cody Beals. In a way, their battle mirrored my own battle. For the record, I typically don’t care about sports personalities. They’re just people who are good at a sport—what makes them any more interesting than the random person running beside you in a race, or in line for coffee? The difference for me is that these two pro athletes are both local (I’ve even raced in the same events as them), approachable, friendly, and I can directly relate to the way both of them present themselves.

Lionel is all heart. When he shares his thoughts and feelings on his YouTube channel, he is very genuine. He’s passionate about his sport, and his dedication is as you’d expect from a pro. His emotions dictate his actions, and because of that, he pushes himself far beyond the limits he should have set for himself. Sometimes that strategy works. Sometimes it causes him to crash miserably. He’s also fiercely independent. He has fired his coaches and prefers to make his own mistakes and then learn from them, instead of trusting in the counsel of others. He overcooks, then dials it a bit back a little bit from there.

That has been my default strategy even before I started triathlon. I would race cars the same way. Push beyond the limits, upset the car, learn how it drives when you exceed those limits, then dial it back to the point you’re at just before you lose it. The more I think about it, the more I can see how it applies to how I handle everything. When I do IT support, I will cause faults in a system to see where it breaks, then use what I’ve learned to fix it better. Same with building websites. Instead of learning how to build something cleanly from scratch, using proper protocols and programming principles, I hack something together, break it, then figure out how to make it work better and in less time than I would have on my own.

There is another side of me that’s in constant tension with my heart. There is the engineering side of my brain, which will methodically parse data, prepare and run simulations, practice, visualize, and use every tool at my disposal to make sure that when it comes down to it, there is only one attempt that matters.

I’ve always had a little bit of this analytical and methodical side of me in other endeavours, but with triathlon, and especially in long-distance it has become crucial. While you can have a full season of sprint and Olympic-distance triathlons during a season, you only really get one or two attempts at a long-distance A-race per year.

Cody is all brain. He has a BSc in Physics, and uses it when he regularly goes into very technical analysis into very technical triathlon-related minutiae on his blog (his lengthy technical mathematical analysis of whether and why setting a treadmill to 1% incline is ideal for simulating running outdoors stands out as the type of rabbit hole I would go into had I more education). His training is very structured; he’s methodical, calculated, and patient; his racing strategy is very similar.

The two halves were very well balanced during my training. I would rely on the brain to make sure the structure of my workouts were in place, then the brain to push through them. Sometimes the heart had a chance to stray from the workouts, so the brain had its turn afterwards to analyze how well I adhered to them and to make any changes as a result. It didn’t hurt that most workouts were at a comfortable effort level, and didn’t require as much heart as the ability to watch and learn videos.

The lead up for the bike – brain 1, heart 0

Using Xert I was able to train myself to push big power numbers on the bike, and then to build enough endurance to take advantage of it for the duration of the race. I’ve gone into the technical details on Strava on how I set my targets, but basically I was able to build myself to have the strength that I had on the road bike at my peak two years ago (nearly 300 watts at threshold), but in my aero position on my tri bike, and with the endurance to be able to hold a high percentage of it for a long time.

Not only that, but I backed up the estimates using heart rate data (using a peak heart rate that was 15 bpm lower than I previously used as an estimate, simply because I hadn’t reached that peak heart rate this year). Then with a week and a half to go before the race, I did another test to triple check my targets for the race. My threshold only registered as 285 watts. But using Xert’s estimates for long-term power I could see that it actually corresponded with the TSS-based estimates, as well my heart rate-based estimates.

All three methods pointed to a conservative target of 220 watts for this race. I used that, as well as a conservative calculation of my aerodynamic drag to build three different race simulations in Best Bike Split. I then took those simulations and simulated them in Xert to see which one gives the best tradeoff between carb:fat ratio used during the race and finishing time.

You could call my three race plans “easy,” “conservative,” and “aggressive,” but even the most aggressive one was conservative compared to the ones I had used in previous races—when my heart had control of the keyboard. All of them came below 220 watts normalized. One used the Best Bike Split default settings, one was 10 watts lower, and the other had lower peak power surges to limit the amount of carb burned. The night before the race I chose the most aggressive one.

The lead up for the run – brain 2, heart 0

My run training was by comparison, very boring. I stuck with a straightforward plan for the duration of my training. Four runs per week: 8k brick (after biking), 12k base, 16k base, and 21-32k long. I would do intervals when I felt ready for them, but never more than once a week. If I felt fresh, I might do 5x1k intervals on my 12k run, up to 8k tempo on my 16k run. That was it. No recovery days, but a very gradual build-up of distance. The same plan that helped me qualify for Boston last year: my training was more-or-less identical.

My run plan had me simply running at my long run base pace, which I had run the vast majority of my training miles. I was to hold 5:00-5:10/km, which would have resulted in a 3:30 marathon. I wasn’t sure what to expect once I started at that pace, so I’d reassess every 10.5k and make changes accordingly.

The lead up for the swim – brain 2, heart 1

The swim was a total wildcard for me. I haven’t been swimming at all this year or last. Like next to zero. The only reason I’ve been able even to consider doing triathlons is because of the base of swimming that I had developed over the last eight years swimming with Ayesha and Team Atomica. It’s been about 450 hours worth. That base was enough for me to have a 35-minute 2000m swim (about half an Ironman swim) in Welland this year, compared to my previous best (when I was at peak swim shape) of 32 minutes on the same course. Not bad.

In the leadup to this race, my taper schedule had to undergo some modifications due to life. I delayed my long swim from the Tuesday before the race to Thursday. And I swam. I really swam. I got in the water, and I didn’t want to go back and get out. I would pick a buoy far away as a target, and once I hit it, I would pick the next one and go for it. My sighting and open water skills got pretty sharp during this swim. When I checked my distance on return, I saw I hit 5k. Three days before the race. Oops. I was only supposed to be out for about 3, and even that was probably a bit more than I should have at this point.

I justified it after the fact that I would experience super-compensation.

Aside: Super-compensation is the basic training theory that predicts that immediately following the decrease in fitness following a workout, your body then experiences a jump slightly above your baseline. This is when you plan your next workout. You perform your next workout when you’re on this peak.

Typically super-compensation to prepare for races is only done on a macro level. Instead of taking advantage of your fitness from one day to the next, we will use weeklong and monthlong cycles—this is not the ideal way to do it.

I did experience quite the boost in confidence after this, despite my swim pace dropping after my first 3300m.

The lead up to the race – brain 2.5, heart 1.5

Our family was lucky enough to be able to have three weeks of vacation around this race. We spent a few days at home, but we spent most of our time in Tremblant and Meaford. The only problem travelling with a 3 1/2 year and an 18-month-old is the unpredictability, especially with sleep. Oh man, sleep. Sweet, sweet sleep.

I had a reasonably solid schedule for taper. The week before the race, I was able to have a beautiful ride on gravel roads with no power meter. My only focus was concentrating on having an enjoyable ride (my favourite of the year). The timing of workouts had to shift around a lot, though. I spent a lot of time getting all my workouts scheduled before the week, only to have to shuffle everything around, hoping for the best. The kids were a bit of a handful, and sleep was. Did I mention sleep? Even with all the help, there was little time for that.

Race morning – brain 2.5, heart 2.5

Thankfully the kids let me sleep through the night before the race. There was little drama, and I was able to wake up on my own, just before my 4:20 alarm went off. I had everything ready, and all I had to do was get to transition to insert the foot pod in my shoes and pump my tires.

I was proud of myself for being smart enough to take Christine’s bike down to transition. I would save the 1.3k walk to transition, and then the 600m walk to the swim start. That’s a lot of time on the feet saved! I rolled down, had my tires pumped, inserted my foot pod, and got back on the bike. As I put my morning clothes bag over my shoulder, I felt a rip and I saw my wetsuit hanging out. I wasn’t sure what to do. Would I end up in a mad panic if I tried to find a replacement bag, or would it be better to trust that it’ll hold? Or can I find someone to give my morning gear to?

Now that the three shots of espresso and double dose of beet juice were kicking in hard, I thought the best idea would be to ride back to the chalet and put my wetsuit and goggles on there. Uphill, of course. Hard. Because at this point I was super hyped and ready to go.

It was a relief to know I didn’t need to worry about anything after the race, but I was starting to sweat a bit, especially after I put my wetsuit bottoms on. But whatever, it was race day, and maybe I could consider that a warmup? I was lucky to end up riding beside my friends in the race, Erica, Troy, Andy, and Mike, with Laura, Heather, and a surprise with Donnacha and Mike as support. I was super happy to get a chance to see them, as they grounded me a bit from my squirrely state.

I positioned myself in the rolling start corral exactly where I hoped to finish in my best-case scenario. Slightly faster than 1:10, but no more than the 1:08 I had done in Tremblant six years ago.

The swim – brain 2.5, heart 3.5

The swim couldn’t have gone any better than it did. I found a great pair of feet to draft from and stuck with them for the first half. The swimmer went super straight—she almost went right under the buoys. Because I was drafting off her right side, I actually did go under the buoys a couple of times—I had to duck under a few of them. My effort level may have been harder than I should have. It’s hard to tell, as I have no heart rate data to refer to, but it just felt good. I wasn’t sure if my watch was giving me the correct pace, because for the first while I was showing an average of 1:35/100m, which was about as fast as I’ve been in any race of any distance. But I kept on.

After losing her, finding good feet was hard. So many swimmers would randomly veer off from swimming straight at sharp angles. I don’t understand what they were doing. I would scan ahead for open water and rely on my own navigation, to keep out of the mess. I learned that just heading directly toward the buoys is the best strategy. If you go under, so be it—it just proves you’re swimming straight. Just point right at the buoys, instead of trying to keep a consistent 5-10m off to the side, as I’ve done in every other race I’ve done!

I had to do a double-take as I exited the water when my watch showed a 1:05. That was a massive PB on the swim. My pace was right in line with what I had done in my half-ironman swims when I was at my all-time peak swim fitness! I was super hyped. The swim is where my race started to differ from this year in Welland.

In Welland, I had a 35-minute swim, but my effort level was very easy. I went into it just thinking that I’d be happy to get out of the water, and there was zero pressure to go fast. Looking at my heart rate data (which was available), I didn’t push very hard at all. So when I went into the bike, I still held on to this calm feeling. My brain won the swim and the bike in Welland. This race was different.

The bike – brain 3, heart 4

I was buzzing at the start of the bike. I was super happy to see Andy getting on his bike at the same time. I don’t think he expected to see me and didn’t realize I was there until we passed back and forth a few times. From there, my Garmin was working fine, giving me power targets, and I happily obliged.

The only pacing issue was that I was pushing a little harder to pass the other competitors cleanly. There were a lot of bikes to pass (Cavin who was watching at home said I had passed 250 people on the bike), so there wasn’t as much of an opportunity to follow the pacing targets exactly.

My targets had me at 220 watts normalized, and 210 watts average. That would allow me to push a little hard up some hills, when it’s advantageous to do so, and lay off on downhills and flats. It theoretically should give the fastest bike split possible.

Aside: Normalized Power is an equivalent power estimate. The concept is based on the idea that when you push harder, especially closer to and above your threshold, the physiological effect is much higher than what your average power would suggest. For example, if you’re pacing at a constant 220 watts, your effort would be very flat and consistent. You would find your NP to be 220 watts and your AP also to be 220 watts. If on the other hand, if you held 220 watts on the flats and pushed hard up the hills, your NP would rise quickly, while your AP may increase just a bit. You may see a 225-watt average power, but more like 245 watts normalized.

While my Garmin was dictating my targets for hills, based on my plan in Best Bike Split, I still had to rely on my feel. I still believed my targets were a bit conservative, so it was okay—I would make up for it on the second loop when traffic was minimal. I still think that was a solid play. However, with the changes in the bike course, and the general issues my Garmin has following a multiple-loop out-and-back course, I didn’t get any alerts for most of the course. I knew most of my targets anyway, having simulated this race at race power a few times in training, so it wasn’t a huge deal.

I was making good time on the first loop, still riding the buzz. My Normalized Power was around 225, with average around 215, but I felt really good! Singing songs out loud, reminding fellow cyclists that we just caught lightning in a bottle, and this is our best race ever!

About three hours in, on the second loop, I had the first sign that things weren’t going to go according to plan. My legs were feeling a little bit tired. I knew from training that when this happens, it’s not the end of the world. But I also knew that it didn’t bode well for the rest of the workout. I knew right then that I wouldn’t have the race I was hoping to have.

An hour earlier I was dreaming of finding a phone so that I could book an Airbnb for the World Championships in Kona. I knew I was going to qualify. It was lightning in a bottle. Now I was just looking forward to getting off the bike.

I tried to avoid using the K-word in the months leading up to this race. I made it my internal motivator. I would visualize me crossing the finish line in nine and a half hours, hearing my final placement, and knowing I had a good enough race to get a slot. Christine knew that I felt like I had a chance. Some people who were tracking my training and analysis on Strava could tell too.

When pressed for an answer on if I thought I would be capable of qualifying in this race, my response was that there were too many variables for me to speculate, and I would try my hardest. When pressed harder, I would admit that like my first failed attempt at a Boston qualifier, I was going to fail. I only didn’t know how I was going to fail yet. I needed to have the experience (my heart had to push beyond my capabilities to learn how to scale back).

I knew that there are too many factors outside my control on race day to expect to be able to qualify, but like many people who are within spitting distance of the pointy end of the stick, I had a strong hope that it would happen anyway.

I had a choice to either push through and try to maintain my pace and possibly sacrifice the run, or to adjust my targets way down. I ended up doing a bit of both. I didn’t want to completely give up, as I didn’t know what I would be able to handle during the run, but I also knew that I’d fall apart before I even had a chance on my feet if I tried to hold my original targets. Also, the wind by this point had become quite stiff. While I took advantage of it on the way out 117 on the second loop, it took a mental and physical toll on the way back.

My next lesson came around for the final climb up Duplessis, 160 km into the 180 km bike. I realized how much nutrition I had left, sticking to the bottom of my bottle. I never had to mix my drink so thick in training, so I didn’t know I wouldn’t be able to drain the fluid entirely out. I realized I had taken about 350 calories too few during the bike—about an hour’s worth of nutrition.

That said, I didn’t think that would have that negative of an effect on my race. Based on my simulation of the simulation in Xert, I would only use 1200 calories worth of carbs on the bike, which coincidentally was about how much I took.

The plan was that I would be able to start the run completely fresh (at least from a glycogen store perspective). I was planning for a surplus of calories on the bike, making up for what I used in the swim. I’d still have a 100% full store of glycogen in my liver and muscles; all saved just for the run. At least that was the idea. Based on how I felt, I’m not sure if that was the state I was in at the time.

The run – brain 3, heart 5

I felt like garbage at the start of this run. I had pains in the arches of my feet that I had never felt before. I felt like I was seconds away from a full-body cramp. Once I started running, I began to feel pretty good. Everything loosened up, my feet felt better, and I was able to have conversations with fellow athletes.

I ran with someone named Andrew, whose watch malfunctioned back in the swim. He didn’t know what pace he was running at, so I was able to help him pace for a short time. It felt good; we were holding around 5:00-5:10 until the first hill, right as planned. It was here, during the start of our first loop, the race leader, Lionel had passed us as he was starting his second loop. We were encouraged by this—it meant that the race leader was only about an hour and a half ahead of us!

As we passed an aid station on a hill, I missed the hand up of a gel. When I reached back to grab it, my hamstring completely cramped up and seized. I had to stop and sit down.

A volunteer hung out with me while I spent three minutes waiting for the cramp to go away. I didn’t think my race was over, but I suspected it might be a brutally long haul to the finish. He offered ice for my hamstring, and I took it. Usually cold is a trigger for cramps with me, but I took it anyway. It seemed to help in this case. I thanked him and hobbled off for the rest of the run.

My hamstring felt progressively better as I ran, and the just-about-to-dive-into-a-full-body-cramp feeling subsided. I saw the second-place athlete bike pass me, followed by Cody close behind. The pro race was looking to be quite entertaining, even from my perspective on the course. A few years ago, I purchased Cody’s used wetsuit from him on the website Slowtwitch, so as he passed, I mentioned how that was the reason I just had my fastest Ironman swim ever. He laughed and said “that’s awesome”—clearly he was feeling pretty good at this point.

At this point in the race, I started the inevitable race math phase—using fuzzy math, which of my goals were still achievable?

1. Kona slot – no
2. 9:30 finish – no
3. 9:59:99 finish – I only need to hold 5:30/km, so yes
4. finish with a 10:xx showing on the finishing clock – yes
5. finish running – more-or-less
6. finish in the daylight – yes
7. set a PB – absolutely!

The run became quite fun. I went back and forth with Andrew a few times—encouraging each other as we passed. I saw Erica, Troy, Andy, Mike, Sean, Jeanna, Kim, and Clare all on the course. There were smiles all around. I was super happy.

Aside from a little dizziness and nausea, most of what I was feeling was as expected. I didn’t know how it would all turn out, but I was making forward progress and felt mostly… okay… I guess. My biggest mistake was when I tried to adjust my nutrition on the fly. I wasn’t sure if I was digesting and absorbing the food I was taking in on the run, so I thought I could use some salt. Because that’s what triathletes need, right?

There was a BASE salt tent handing out samples right at the end of the first loop. They handed me a vial, and thought I’d find some salt pills inside. Instead, there was just a bunch of pink salt on the bottom. I didn’t know how much was there, so I just took it.

I should have taken the water they were offering (I didn’t see any), because the ensuing burn was very very real. I didn’t realize until after the race that you’re only supposed to lick your finger, dab some salt on, lick it, then follow it up with water—not down the whole thing. Furthermore, there was no water anywhere on the course until way later. I started off feeling thirsty. Then it just burned. It burned so bad. After the race I had a look at the label. I had just taken 20 SERVINGS IN ONE SHOT!

The burn started in the mouth and spread down my esophagus, and into the top of my stomach. I could push through it because the excitement of seeing everyone at the halfway point was amazing! But after coming through onto the second loop, this became quite unbearable. I took a banana, all the water I could find, and (big mistake) some Red Bull. I just hoped it would go away before it tore apart my whole system from the inside out.

At this point, I was able to see the race leaders’ final push to the finish. With a few km to go, Lionel ran past with his typical lopsided gait and focused and determined expression. Right behind him was Cody, who had just gotten Lionel in his sights and by the look on his face, he was even more determined than Lionel to catch him.

The brain went on to beat the heart.

The expected “why am I even doing this?” feeling kicked in around the 32k mark. This wall wasn’t as bad as it had been in my first Boston-qualifying attempt in Hamilton, but it was still a huge effort to push through. I started walking the aid stations, and maybe a little extra at points. I stopped looking at my pace and just tried to hold on as best I could. My stomach mostly recovered, and I was able to finish relatively strong, considering.

The highlight of my finish was seeing Catrina with Christine and my dad while I was coming down the finisher’s chute. C&C put up with so much to get me to this point that I was super grateful to see them still smiling after such a long day of spectathleting!

When I exited the finisher’s recovery area, I was super stoked to have finished with such a good time. When Christine asked if I was disappointed, I told her “no way!” There were a lot of goals that I was able to hit. I already had a few hours to get over the disappointment of not hitting my best-case scenario goal already, and I was more than happy with how it all turned out. I may not have qualified, gone under 9:30, or even gone under 10 hours, but I did the best I could, and it was so far above anything I had ever been capable of before, that there was no way I could be anything but ecstatic!

So what happened?

After taking some time off, looking at the data, and talking it out, I’m still not entirely sure. With my list of contributing factors below, it might sound like I’m building a list of excuses. I’m just trying to figure out how to fix this for next time if I’m ever in a position to do this again.

1: A short bout with overtraining

The first potential setback was immediately following Welland. I performed better in that race than the data would have suggested I would have been able to do. My functional threshold was likely actually higher than when I had built my plan.

So after the race I adjusted my threshold power. All my targets increased. My 210w race target became 235w. My functional threshold went from 280 to 290. All of it seemed to work, and it was correct. However, what I failed to do was historically adjust the data to show how I got to that target.

I was stronger than I thought, which meant that I was working out at a lower intensity than I was capable. Which ironically turned out to be the ideal way for me to train. There’s a saying where you need to keep your easy workouts easy and your hard workouts hard. Well in retrospect, easier was the right intensity. If I had adjusted my historical data, I would have seen I was already doing this and wouldn’t have made a massive increase in my intensity in the weeks that followed.

i.e. I did multiple race simulations as my long rides on weekends. What I was really doing was race simulations at 90% of my race intensity. If they were actually 100%, I would have been exhausted and needed more time to recover. But I didn’t need any extra recovery time at all, at the effort I was doing it at.

That was the cause of my overtraining. I didn’t realize it at first, but I had the classic symptoms right after I increased the intensity. I was constantly tired. I was hungrier than usual. I ate enough to gain an extra 5 pounds. My workout targets were harder to hit. Ultimately my functional threshold dropped.

After a few days completely off, and a week and a half of reduced duration and intensity, I went back into my training. I didn’t know where my targets would be, so I did one final test a week and a half before the race, to confirm my targets.

The race confirmed my targets, but also took a higher toll on my body than I anticipated. I didn’t think enough to simulate the workout before I did it, to see if I had enough time to recover. I knew it wasn’t the best idea, but I just wanted confirmation that I was doing it right. It took more than a few days to recover, which was probably at the worst time during my training.

2: Doing all my training indoors

Avoiding doing all my training indoors is one that I haven’t been able to work around yet. It’s inescapable with two young kids. I figured out how to make it work timewise, but compromising and riding indoors is still a different experience.

The pain in my feet off the bike was a completely new feeling. It was likely because I was spending a lot more time with weight on my feet. Indoors I don’t move much, just put my butt on my seat and evenly distribute it 1/3 arms, 1/3 butt, 1/3 feet. When you’re riding outside, everything changes. There was a lot more pressure on my feet.

My quads were also asked to do something that they hadn’t needed to do before. Going down hills and tucking my knees into the top tube, lifting off the seat for bumps. These are things that don’t happen inside. There are a lot more support muscles that are asked to do more when you’re outside.

Also, riding indoors, I didn’t have a chance to test my nutrition solution (literally). The pooling on the bottom of the bottle didn’t have to happen, but I never had a chance to know this would be a problem.

3: Rest, or lack of it

I did not get enough sleep leading up to the race, particularly in the last two weeks. We spent time away, but the kids don’t sleep very well when they’re not home. I got about 4-5 hours average a night leading up to the race. I thought I would be able to caffeinate through it, and I did in a way, just not in a way that let me prepare for the race.

The days before the race, I was also busy being a dad. I wouldn’t trade that time with the kids for anything—it’s not a regret—just the reality of the situation. They are pretty demanding at this point. Running with Xander while he napped on my shoulder during his first IronKids race was priceless. But looking at all my trips into the village, up the hills, around on the bike, up Duplessis, down again, and all around… might have been better spent sleeping. At least if doing well in this race was my number one priority.

4: Incidentals

If I had a smarter nutrition plan (with contingencies) for the run, it would have helped a bit. I don’t think cramping was due to anything other than overexertion (I spent a lot of time considering this). Having a little more confidence in my position and my gear would have helped.

Ultimately though, having a dedicated coach would have helped more than anything. I feel like I am good at self-coaching, but some things take an outside eye to catch. A coach would have immediately spotted my overtraining. Building a more solid taper and race day plan would have been forced by a coach. All the little things would have been handled well by a coach. When do you listen to your brain, and when your heart? I would have seen these things if I were outside myself. If I were coaching someone else, I would have pointed them out and guided them around it. But when it’s yourself, it’s hard to see.

Ultimately my heart won my internal battle. But like when Cody managed to pass Lionel for the win in the leader’s race, it would have worked out a lot better if my brain were in charge. My brain would have seen this all and come up with a better plan to make it all work within the restrictions that I had.

What’s next

I’m not sure what’s next for me. I wanted to sign up for another full in six weeks in Chattanooga or Maryland, using what I’ve learned to try to have the perfect race. I think it is a bit too much. It’s too much money, too much time, too much effort, too much risk. It’s a shame to let this fitness taper off for the season, but I’m not sure what to do with it. Doing Barrelman is an option, but I don’t want to think about this until I have fully recovered. I’m raring to go for a run right now though, so signs show I’ll be out of this phase pretty soon!

Next year it would be great to try another full. I would love to get a chance to do St. George again (with its 75 Kona slots up for grabs and moving into the 45-49 age group bracket, there could be 5-6 slots up for grabs in my age group) but I think the demands of the family will be too much to make that happen. 2-3 halves during next season would be nice, combined with a fast marathon in Boston perhaps? Maybe focusing on short-course for a couple of years again, mixing lots of group rides with the Morning Glory crew. There is so much fitness to be gained that way—it is what turned me into a competitive athlete the first time around.

There is lots to consider. So we’ll see.

Super special thanks to Christine for not only putting up with my triathlon-obsessed lifestyle but doing everything in your power to help me get to the start line to achieve my goals! You’re the number one member of my team. I wouldn’t have been able to do any of it without you!

Also, thanks for the pics of the IronKids race, and for trying to get me out to swim Erica. And thanks to Ayesha for the years of swim coaching—it actually stuck with me! And thanks to Armando for the help and guidance with using Xert to reach my highest potential on the bike. And thanks to George and Christine for making our stay in Tremblant way better. And thanks to Kim and Troy for providing the motivation to actually sign up. And thanks for all the kudos and encouragement from friends/riding buddies/strangers on Strava. And thanks to the other friends who were along for the ride (in some cases literally). I hope we’re all able to do this again!

The post Tremblant 2019: What happened? appeared first on geodee.

Social media sucked the life out of personal blogging, and now its turned around and is sucking the life out of us. I think this is why I’ve seen a few inactive blogs in my Personal blogs folder becoming active again. And that’s why I’ve dusted this one off. I have things to share, and I will have control over it’s done.

Here’s what’s happened in the last five years (almost to the day!?!) since I’ve posted.

First, this is a story all about how I met my partner Christine, and my life got flipped turned upside down. My focus shifted almost immediately. Five years and two kids later…

Obviously, my run for mayor took a backseat. Swimming has taken a backseat. I have had a couple of interesting shifts in my career. Running has been great, and I really enjoy my early morning group bike rides.

I’m not sure how much of a resurgence this blog will actually undergo, but this post feels pretty good.

The post The resurgence of the personal blog appeared first on geodee.

In the last post I started using the political terms left, right, and centre to describe the mayoral candidates’ positions. It’s really hard to escape using these terms. They represent a deep core philosophical belief—not just for candidates—but as a way to describe our own beliefs too.

I hate to admit that while I’ve understood the ideological differences between federal Conservatives on one end and NDP on the other, I’ve only recently figured out which one of those is labelled left and which is right. I would like to hope that I’m in the minority, and that this post is pointless. If that’s the case feel free to move on. But based on people I know who have liked my Facebook page—some of whom are inexperienced or don’t really care about politics—this may be worth a read.

The most basic way to describe the difference between the left and the right is that the left believes in more government involvement, and the right believes in less government involvement. The left believes in supporting the community, and the right leaves things up to the individual.

There’s a chart here that I found being used on a couple different sites—if I’m using this unfairly, please let me know and I’ll recreate it. I have a couple minor gripes with it anyway.

Here’s what happens when you put four of the (probable) candidates on the chart above.

That’s Olivia Chow on the left, Soknacki to the right of centre, Stintz further right, and Ford all the way over. Realistically, there’s little difference between Stintz and Ford, but I couldn’t place them on top of each other. Hrm. Okay, that’s a lie. One more correction.

For the record, this is totally a Photoshop in case you were wondering. Again, all of this is based on my interpretation. I may be totally off-base with this. Please let me know if there’s any misinformation and I’ll do my best to fix it.

Real world: what does this mean?

If you put Chow and Stintz on opposing sides and compare, you will likely pay more in taxes with Chow, and less with Stintz. You’ll have better services and social systems with Chow, and less with Stintz. Unionized city employees will be happier with Chow, not so happy with Stintz. With Stintz, you may end up saving a bit of money—or at least having a lower tax increase than you would have under Chow.

The real-world impact of that hasn’t really been determined yet. I don’t see it making a big difference whichever route we take. For example, in the current budget debate, Ford and deputy mayor Kelly were at odds over whether to increase property taxes 1.75 or 2.25%. This would amount to $13 per year per household per year.

Where do I fit in?

That’s a good question, thanks for asking. I don’t think my personal views are as important as the views of the residents of this city. I do have some though! I’d gladly discuss my views as a citizen over a pint, but I’d rather listen to what you have to say. I want to find a consensus between both sides. I suppose if you want to view it that way, my goal is to be right in the absolute dead freaking middle. Halfway between both sides ideologically, and halfway between both sides of the city—downtown and the suburbs.

I feel like I’ve got a fairly balanced view. Not only have I voted for every major federal party at some point in my life, but I’ve spent huge parts of my life living in different parts of the city. I live for downtown, but my heart is still in Scarborough. I cross that suburban divide and live both sides every day. This is one city, and both sides need each other to survive. Basically.

The post On Picking a Side of the Political Spectrum appeared first on geodee.

This is all a new experience to me—I’m looking at this as a complete outsider, so my perspective may be a little naïve. This is by no means a comprehensive, exhaustive, or well-researched list. It’s just what I’ve come across over the last couple days. If I’m off base with any of my assumptions I’ve made, or if you’d like to rebut anything, please let me know in the comments.

Much of the information comes from Wikipedia and the sites it references, and there’s a bit more I read via Twitter. I’ve got a list of candidates (at least the ones I’ve been able to find) here if you’d like to check them out yourself!

Don Andrews

I don’t want to say anything bad about anybody, but apparently he’s a white supremacist who is leader of the neo-Nazi Nationalist Party of Canada. In that case I hope he chokes on a chicken bone. I don’t care if you want to throw your vote away, just don’t throw it in this guy’s direction. I’m not going to mention this name again.

Jeff Billard

Jeff seems to be a really nice guy—probably the one I’d most likely want to sit down and have a pint with. Probably the most respectable of the fringe (should I even say fringe?) candidates, who also keeps his own blog. He’s also another zero-budget candidate, which obviously I think is a great idea.

Mark Cidade

I really liked the first tweet from his campaign account: “A mayor brings their city into alignment by taking themself out of equation.” It really should be about the people, the position of mayor should be a reflection of the population—not his or herself. He’s got great taste in t-shirts. He appears to have had some PR issues in the last election, but he appears to be doing well this year.

Olivia Chow

I think we’re supposed to pretend that she’s not running. From what I understand, she’s expected to be the only credible left-wing candidate.

George Dedopoulos

This guy doesn’t know much about politics, nor does he have a platform. But his heart is in the right place, and he’s pretty good at figuring things out on the fly.

Ryan Emond

An entrepreneur who runs a private member’s club. Sounds like a great guy to know if you are image-conscious and/or into the club scene.

Rob Ford

The number one guy for the job if you want to get a pothole filled.

Al Gore

Seriously. This guy needs to say something! Who is he? Perhaps he’s related to the person this street was named after.

Charles Huang

This guy equally makes me laugh and cringe. His campaign slogan appears to be “Vote for Charles. I promise that I’ll do something really small.” Choice tweets include “People, I am the only candidate that can promise I won’t screw up @Toronto because I am lazy to do anything.” and “It’s time senior get a better deal, two for one lap dances on Sunday in all @Toronto’s Strip Clubs”

Diana-De Maxted

Diana has run before, and is likely the only candidate who has shown up to a debate wearing a tiara. She is an advocate for people with disabilities.

Matt Mernagh

Matt is a marijuana activist with a huge twitter following. Interests include writing guidebooks for stoners, video games, organizing rallies.

Karen Stintz

I know little about Stintz and her platform. She hasn’t registered her candidacy yet, because she needs to step down from her position as chair of the TTC first. She’s considered a centre-right candidate (like most). She led a revolt against Ford’s transit plan in 2012. She says that she believes in Ford’s fiscal agenda, but without actually being him. I’m totally paraphrasing, but you get the idea.

David Soknacki

My first impression of this candidate is actually really good. He’s another centre-right candidate, who comes from Scarborough. After he answered the obvious first question “have you smoked crack” with “no, I’m not nearly that interesting,” he announced his statement on mayoral transparency and ethics. In a nutshell, he totally copied my first blog post about being transparent, and made it look professional. I’m sure that’s exactly what he was thinking. He also borrowed my future blog post about non-partisanship.

David isn’t a no-budget candidate, but the fact that he’s updating his donor list in realtime, and he’s disclosing when he meets with lobbyists, it’s pretty close.

I believe that every candidate should hold themselves to the same standards as David. Step it up people, this is important!

Michael Tramov

I don’t know too much about Michael yet, but it looks like he’s taking the high road by not taking pot shots at Ford. Via his twitter:

Looking through twitter at the latest #TOpoli news and I’m starting to see a disturbing trend. Almost every other one is an attack on Ford.
Which I guess is understandable. It’s an election year and he is the incumbent. But swipes at Rob Ford are low hanging fruit…
You’re not going to say anything about the mayor in any wittier or more intelligent than what the staff writers for late night TV have.

Richard Underhill

Richard sounds like he’s got a lot of supporters in his community, and apparently is a super nice guy. He is a saxophonist, who was a member of the Shuffle Demons. You might know their hit song from 1986, Spadina Bus.

That’s about all I’ve got right now! This is really shaping up to be an interesting race!

The post The Good and the Not-So-Good—the Competition appeared first on geodee.

I’m not sure what I was expecting when I walked into the elections office on the way to work yesterday morning. I half expected to find a lineup of hopeful registrants vying for one of the dozens of available positions available. Perhaps there would be a member of the media or two asking questions. It wasn’t like that.

I walked in the door and was greeted by a lone woman at the front desk. We exchanged pleasantries and then I told her “I want to run to be the mayor.” I don’t think she knew what to make of me—she looked at me with a bit of suspicion, and then asked if I had filled in all the paperwork. There really wasn’t much paperwork to it. Two pages, printed from a PDF from the City of Toronto website, asking what position I’d like to run for, which Ward (for mayor it’s listed as Ward 0), and a second sheet that said that I wasn’t legally disallowed from running.

I gave the woman my identification, and she cross-referenced it against a list of names of people who aren’t allowed to run. When I was cleared, she brought over a Commissioner, who filled in a few fields, stamped it, signed it, and asked me to do the same. The woman behind the desk warmed up when she realized I wasn’t completely crazy. I paid my $200 fee, was given a receipt, and a package. It was a pretty simple process!

The package

I walked out with envelope containing:

1. Letter to the Candidates
2. Preliminary Maximum Expense Limit Certificate
3. Letter to Banks
4. Contribution Rebate Guide for Contributors
5. 2014 Candidates’ Guide for Ontario Municipal and School Board Elections
6. Candidate Reference Guide
7. Nomination Paper
8. Receipt

I’ll report more on the contents of the package later (I hope this isn’t too boring), and about the My Campaign website. I think it’s amazing that they went through that much work to build such a detailed and helpful site for us to be able to manage our campaigns!  I managed to update my contact information after I had set up a specific email address and phone number for my campaign.

The initial reaction

I publicly posted a picture to Facebook of me in front of the election office holding my package. I’ve been open to my friends about wanting to run for mayor, but I’m not sure how seriously they actually took me until I actually did.

Missing from the image above was the 5 minute phone conversation where we figured out the logistics of our evening. My friend was referencing this blog posting, but she obviously assumed I was joking.

This is pretty much how it went down on Facebook. It’s a public image, you might as well read it yourself. I was very happy to have some amazing support. It was completely unexpected. What I also appreciated was that some friends were already there to ask the tough questions, like if I have ever done drugs. If you can’t trust your friends to be honest and tough with you, then who can you trust? If you don’t go through the link, here was my answer:

…you’re the first to ask that, but you’re *definitely* not going to be the last! There are three things I’m not going to talk about publicly, because frankly they’re none of the public’s business.

1. my dating life (or lack thereof)
2. drugs
3. what’s inside the speedo.  

That’s what I refer to when I say that I’m baring all and being completely transparent, other than the speedo. 

That said, I don’t do drugs, but if for some reason I do during my campaign I’ll definitely let you all know!

There was a minor backlash, which was nothing compared to a critical text message exchange with another friend. I’m going to clear it with her first before I reference any of it, but these kinds of critical questions helped firm up my stance on why this is important, and also why I believe that I’m not trying to make a mockery of the system by running for mayor. Far from it. I love the system!

There was a fairly big reaction online as well. I had a few new followers, a bunch of retweets, a few jokes with friends, and I was introduced to another two candidates. I even got on Wikipedia! Also this site got quite a bit more traffic over the course of the past two days.

Days two and three

I’ve got too much actual work work to get done to be able to work on my campaign this weekend. There is a possibility for a very minor TV appearance on day five though. I’ll keep you all updated on that if I actually have the cojones to actually go through with it!

The post Day one of my mayoral campaign appeared first on geodee.

I’m curious and maybe you are too

I really want to know more about this process. I’ve always been interested in the city and how it runs. I’d like to go through everything involved and share. If I actually get elected, then you’ve got a great window into what’s involved in the day-to-day dealings of what goes on inside the mayor’s office of the fourth-largest city in North America.

I’m not a politician. I don’t owe anyone any favours. I don’t play with that crowd, but when the time comes and I do, you’ll know about what happens. I plan on being completely honest, open and transparent. I do have a personal life, so while I’m going to give a naked view into everything, I’m still going to cover up the dirty parts. Kinda like my speedo. Don’t worry, that’s not a crack pipe in there—it was just really cold.

The position of mayor is largely a symbolic one

The city of Toronto has actually been running quite well with they mayor we have. The position of mayor is only worth one vote in city council. One vote out of 45 is just over 2.2%. The mayor has slightly more power than the random potential councillor you put a checkmark beside because you liked the look of their name. Think about that for a minute. You may have an opinion on who might be the right person for the job of mayor, but most of us (myself included) have had no idea what they were doing when it came time to vote for a councillor.

Arguably by mismanaging your vote for councillor, you’re doing more of a disservice than if you voted for the wrong mayor. Your councillor is there to support you and your community. They are the ones who are going up to bat for your needs. This is what you should be paying attention to.

If there’s one thing you should take away from this, it’s that. I would have run for council, but I wouldn’t want to take such an important job away from someone.

There could be an argument made that the mayor is supposed to rally the councillors to come to decisions in the best interest of the city. The mayor also holds the deciding vote in case of a tie. I suppose in that case my personal beliefs and interest should come into account.

About geodee

I’m a minor transportation geek. I love cars, public transit, cycling, running, and walking. I love this city too. All of it. I believe that the residents of this city have a lot more in common than what we’ve been led to believe. It doesn’t matter if you’re downtown, uptown, suburban, or living on a farm in the Rouge, we all want what’s best for everyone. Wasn’t it Jesus or Plato who said “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few?” I believe we’ve all got that in ourselves, we just need to be able to listen to each other.

Full disclosure

I’m not a politician, but I have met a few. I’ve met Michael Coteau, MPP, when I was doing some print work for him. Super nice guy. I’m sure he’s doing a great job. I met Barbara Hall (former mayor of Metropolitan Toronto) and George Smitherman (former mayoral candidate) in same day. I may have exchanged a hello with Barbara Hall, and when I met George Smitherman I was excited that we had the same first name. That took about 30 seconds.

The post Geodee for Mayor of Toronto. No, seriously appeared first on geodee.

It didn’t take me long after finishing Ironman St. George to sign up for Cozumel (or what I like to refer to as The Coz). They seemed like the perfect complement—the first and the last North American Ironmans of the year. After the travel logistics, brutal swim, crazy hills and hot run of St. George, I was looking forward to the opposite end of the spectrum an all-inclusive vacation with a fast swim, a flat course, and tons of support. The word “easy” never came out of my mouth, but it was implied.

My race goals shifted throughout the year, depending on what I was feeling like at the time. At first I was hoping to heavily build upon my post-St. George peak fitness throughout the duration of the summer. For the first couple months it actually worked. I continued racing almost every weekend until the end of June, when I completed an amazingly fast (for me) half-iron distance race in Welland. After which I was totally burnt out.

The rest of the summer was spent training for the LOST 10k swim, which also meant that weight management wasn’t a priority at all. On the contrary I was hoping to gain a little insulation and buoyancy. I figured with the flat course in Cozumel it wouldn’t matter too much anyway. My running was improving every week, so there was no reason to keep my weight in check. I realize this may be a bit of revisionist history to justify having never said no seconds of The Girl Annie’s decadent cooking combined with the increase in frequency post-swim recovery beers. Either way, I had a very enjoyable summer.

The biggest difference between this race and St. George was the fall addition of training with power on the bike. It improved the quality of training almost immediately. At first I trained as usual by heart rate, but once I found the power level that it correlated to, I used power as a constant instead. It took a while to get used to how it worked, then after a few tests I found my training and racing targets. Without going into too much detail (I could spend hours on this alone), I figured out that I would want to target between 155 and 162 watts in Cozumel. A big range, yes, but I would start at the bottom and see how things went during the race.

Leading up to the event

The trip to Cozumel went very well. Annie, coach Ayesha, Mike, Erica, Roland, Ali and Marvin and I were all on the same flight. It seemed like most of the people on the flight were there for the race—maybe one third of the people waiting in the check-in line had bikes. Unfortunately that meant that all these bikes were unable to fit into the plane.

Once we landed in Cozumel, there was a woman from WestJet who was going through the lineup for customs with a list. This list had all the people whose bikes didn’t make the flight. Mine was one of the ones on the list. I have to give credit to the way WestJet handled the situation though. We found out while we were waiting in line, and we all got our bikes that night. They were flown into Cancun and then shipped to our hotels. It was actually easier, since we didn’t have to lug them around to our hotel.

The days leading up to the race were spent doing as little as possible. Thursday was suntanning and snorkelling at El Cozumeleño, the resort that Annie and I were staying at. I made an effort to eat as heartily as possible, without eating too much. I also started eating as much hot sauce as possible, and as much of a variety food as I could find. I was hoping to find if there was anything that would disagree with me I would find it early on, and not the night before the race.

While swimming and snorkelling at the hotel, I felt a few sharp pains on my exposed skin. The first was on my foot, then on my thigh, then another on my shoulder. I had heard about sea lice and jellyfish—that was actually one of my bigger fears of the race. What if they really hurt? What if I had a reaction? I still don’t know what these were. Apparently real sea lice are something that only affect fish. There’s another thing called sea lice, which is actually the tentacles of jellyfish which get dislodged from the jellyfish and cause a rash in areas where bathing suits cover. That wasn’t this. I think they were probably small jellyfish, but I really don’t know. I’m going to call them “sea ouchies,” one of which caused a rash on my arm that lasted a couple days.

Early Friday morning I met up with coach Ayesha and Mike at Chankanaab National Park, the site of the start of the race, to get a feel for the water. The conditions were perfect. The water was crystal clear—you could see the bottom of the sea, which had to have been at least twenty feet down. I almost felt acrophobic!

That afternoon was the athlete’s meeting at Hotel Cozumel. There was no shuttle from the host hotel we were staying at to the meeting, but there were a group of us that split the cab. After the meeting, we made our way down the street to the Convention Centre to actually register.

Registration went very quickly and was organized well. What wasn’t very well organized was the expo its self. I’m not even sure if the official store was in the expo, but there was a booth selling gear. I didn’t bring down enough nutrition with me, since I planned on supplementing what I brought with what I was able to find at the expo. I also needed four CO2 cartridges (two for the bike, two for my special needs bag). Out of the three bike booths in the building, I found the least busy one, and managed to find the Gu gels that I was looking for. The only problem was that they only had double caffeinated espresso and blackberry ones. Still, I took what I could get, knowing that I would be able to supplement my nutrition on the course.

There was some time to kill between my registering and the athlete’s dinner, so Annie and I went looking for WiFi to be able to contact Alex and the rest of the group. We found a decent restaurant with a great connection, and ordered an appetizer and drinks. After the drinks, the expo started to seem less likely. Not knowing if we would be able to figure out transportation back to our resort (which was located at the far north end of the island), we decided to skip it. It sounded like me missed a fun time, with Roland renting a “Mexican Ferrari” to drive the group back into the town.

The day before the race

Saturday morning I did my final bag packing and bike prep.

I rode my bike down to the bike check-in and finally got a chance to run into Alex. He relayed a small tidbit of information from his coach—the current is weaker the closer to shore you are. The fastest way through the race would be to swim close to the shore when you’re going northeast, and further from the shore when you’re going southwest. This may have helped me more than I expected.

On the shuttle back from bike check-in, I met a couple from Tennessee. They certainly didn’t look like the typical Ironman type—they weren’t wafer thin, and the man had a long beard and a Grateful Dead T-shirt. It was to be her first Ironman and his third. It was inspiring to hear what brought them down to do this race. He knew he could do a fast race, but he was going to do it with her. He had done Louisville twice already, and this time he wanted to share the experience. They certainly did a good job seeding the thought of a back-to-back Tremblant/Louisville double-header next year!

Back at the hotel, dinner wasn’t to open until 6:00. Annie and I headed to the main lobby/bar to have a couple drinks before it opened. It was busier than most nights. I hadn’t clued in exactly why that was yet—I thought it was just because there were more people there because of the event. I had a small glass of beer before the doors to the buffet opened. There was a mad rush and the entire lobby cleared into the buffet and filled the room. We all needed to get our nutrition in before the race. If it would have been open at 5:00 I would have gone then. It seemed like everyone else in the hotel had the same thought.

After last year’s pre-race dinner horribly affected my race, this time I chose much wiser. Chicken, rice, nachos, All-Bran cereal and beer. For the record, I think I may have found my ideal pre-race meal. I’ll give about as much detail as I did with my last report—everything nutrition-related was awesome between dinner and the end of the race.

Immediately after dinner it was off to bed. I didn’t fall asleep right away—nor did I have a particularly deep sleep, but it was deep enough. I woke up just before the alarm. I had been adjusting my bed and wakeup times by one hour per night, and it worked perfectly to get me moving at the right time.

Race Morning

The morning of the race, Annie opted to avoid the ride down to the swim start, and instead watch from the VIP area between transition 2 and the finish line. It worked out very well for her. She had shade and drinks for the entire day, as well as a direct entry point to the finish line.

I boarded the shuttle bus, and quietly zoned out, feigning sleep for the 20-minute bus ride to the start. It would be crazy enough at the start of the race—I didn’t need to get worked up yet. Even though I had an hour before the start of the race, there was still a mad panic from the minute I got there. I had to line up for the porta potty, drop off my morning gear and special needs bags, and get my tires pumped. I suppose those were only three seemingly minor things, but they took the entire hour.

First step was to pump the tires. I borrowed the pump from the athlete whose bike was next to mine. It seemed strange that my tires only had 80 psi according to his gauge. I had pumped them to the ideal 110 psi the afternoon before. Could they have lost 30 psi overnight? I didn’t think much of it, and inflated my tires to the upper limit of their pressure range.

After the (under-stocked) rest stop, I dropped off my bags. I couldn’t find the busses to drop off my transition bag though. Luckily, Ali’s husband Marvin called out to me and offered to take them to the bus for me! It couldn’t have worked out any better, since people were already starting to walk out onto the deck for the swim start!

While walking down the deck I was told by an official that compression socks weren’t allowed during the swim, and I had to put them inside my speed suit. I thought it was a bit strange. Actually, I was a bit pissed off. Similarly to the start of Ironman St. George, I was into a focused, selfish state. Take no prisoners in the swim. So when the marshall asked me to take them off I nearly snapped at him. Nearly. It wouldn’t have been worth it, and really for all I knew it could have been in the rulebook.

The Swim

I got in the water about 150m from where I wanted to start the race and swam to the start. It took me much longer than I expected to get there. In fact, I wasn’t even sure if I was actually at that point when the race started. I barely even knew where the start line was, or when the race started. I saw a bunch of people around me and I was somewhat close to the shore. There was a horn, and everybody started swimming. I had no time to relax, hang out, or stand my ground. I just swam out and the race started.

The race started off rougher than it did in St. George. I know I was swimming faster (relatively) than I was then, but I still got hit by other swimmers. My goggles nearly got smacked off, and I got a pretty rough elbow to the face. Whether those hits were intentional or not, instead of just getting pissed off, I used it to my advantage.

Whenever someone would hit me as they were passing, I would draft them. Not just a wimpy little “I hope I can hold on to his feet” draft—I planted myself right on their hip. I practiced that during a few of the Cherry Beach swims in the summer with friends. The difference was that they were friends. I was mindful to avoid hitting them. I would stroke at the same rate as they did—working as a team. I didn’t need to do that with these guys. They were my enemies! They hit me!

I found some very aggressive swimmers to draft off of. I didn’t realize how strong the current was at this point. Looking at my Garmin data post-race, it appears that I was averaging a 2:15 pace for the first 700m before the turnaround. My equivalent pace for that effort would be around 1:50 (not taking into account drafting or the buoyant salt water), so I was at least 30 seconds slower than I should have been.

After the first turn we had the current at our backs. I could feel the speed through here. I still had some good enemies to draft off of. I managed to stick to the same guy for most of this section. The current was amazing. For the next 2.1 km I was averaging a 1:20 pace. I’ve never kept those speeds up for longer than 50m at a time. I could see that the buoys had drifted southwest, because there were little trenches in the sand where the sand bag anchors for the buoys had been dragged. When I checked my watch at the halfway point, it looked like I would finish the swim in under an hour! I was hoping for 1:05 if the conditions were to be absolutely perfect, but this was just crazy! At the last turnaround I realized why—after we made the turn we had almost completely stopped moving.

The current didn’t seem too bad at first. I had a decent group to draft off of, until everyone seemed to split. I couldn’t understand why. Someone had jumped ahead, and I wanted to get back on his feet (or onto his side). I gave my biggest effort of the swim, and within a minute I had caught up to him. But when I looked up, it didn’t look like the scenery had changed. The next buoy was still a far ways off. Then the current got even stronger and I was making less and less progress.

I thought back to the tip about the shore having less of a current, so I tried to swim alone toward there. There was a man in a boat who was directing me back into the pack. Then the water started to appear blurry. I thought my goggles were fogged, but when I looked up to the shore it was crystal clear. The current was so strong that it actually distorted the view. As the my watch showed 1:00, then 1:05 without much forward progress being made, I had a sinking feeling that this might be another St. George. I had a slight panic, and then realized that I’m not alone in this. All I could do was put my head down and see what I could get done. I dipped into my reserves, and instead of the easy pace I had maintained most of the race, I pushed through to try and get this swim done.

The final 1000m of the swim averaged a 2:30 pace. The numbers weren’t all that bad, but that did not reflect the amount of work that had to go into it. It was tough. Still, I was very happy with my very respectable time of 1:12! I think my drafting technique may have pissed off some of the competitors. In the run from the swim exit to transition, I was body checked hard as I was passed by one of the guys I drafted off of. I held in my cursing—maybe I deserved it. Or there were kids around. Either way. Jerk.

I had heard that 10% of the entrants were unable to finish the swim within the 2:20 time cutoff. This is a much larger number than last year, where there were no people who missed it. That would be nearly 300 entrants! It was actually comparable to the number of DNFs in St. George, which was one of the highest ever.

Transition 2

Because of my bib number (2001), I probably had the best location for my transition bags. My T1 bag was the first bag in the middle top rack. I flew into transition and tried to find a volunteer. They seemed slightly disorganized, but I managed to find a kid to help me unzip my speed suit. I showed my back to him, and said (what I thought would be universally-understood) ziiiiiiip, while I pointed down hurriedly. He touched the zipper and gave me the thumbs up. I shook my head and again said “zip down-down-down” as I pointed down again. Again, he touched the top and gave me the thumbs up. We did this four times before he realized what I meant and finally unzipped the suit.

I tried putting on my wet compression socks, but there was no way they were going to go on over my feet. I just threw them back in the bag and ran down to my bike.

Unlike in St. George, we were allowed to keep our shoes on our bikes. This made transition much easer, since I could just run barefoot through transition and hop on the bike at the start. It went perfectly, and I was on the bike in no time. Total transition time was only 4:44, which was much better than I expected.

The Bike

The bike went very smoothly. I popped a double caffeinated gel, and started hydrating right away. I needed to rinse out some of the saltiness in my mouth from the swim as well. I had my power target range of 155-162, and I stuck to the bottom-end of it. I figured I would play it safe for the first lap, then reassess for the other two. It was dead simple on such a flat course. Set and forget. What could possibly go wrong?

Halfway through the first lap I refined my “legal” drafting technique. For the record, I do not consider myself an illegal drafter. I know it may be like how nobody in jail thinks they’re guilty, but I really believe this. I don’t subscribe to the idea that whatever you can get away with is considered legal. I have never voluntarily joined a draft pack, and I’ve done whatever has been in my power to be as honest a competitor as possible—not just to be within the rules, but within the intent. However, when you’re playing by the book, and immediately letting off the gas as soon as someone passes you, there are times where you’re not going to go anywhere at all.

When I was passing people, I most definitely did a proper “legal” draft. When I was within 10 metres of the bike in front of me, I would stick right behind them, pass within 30 seconds, then hop in front. When you’re lucky enough to be able to pass a large, spread out group, you can essentially have a draft the entire time. During these passes, I kept my power the same, but my speed would see an appreciable increase. Alternatively, if I kept my speed the same when someone passed me, I saw my wattage drop from 155 to 135. Very tempting to try to hold on to that for a few seconds…

I started off where I was completely letting off as soon as someone passed my front wheel, and got to the point where I would let them pass, hold on to them for just a few rotations of the crank, then slowly let off. Just a few rotations. Well within what I considered legal. It simply cancels out the freewheeling you had to do when they passed you. Net effect is zero, right?

While I did this behind one particularly strong rider, I heard a whistle from an official on a scooter. I thought he was pointing at me. I really didn’t know if it was meant for me though. Was that even a penalty, or just a warning? Was he even pointing at me? I thought that was legal enough. How would I find out if that was a penalty or not? I had a lot of questions, and no one to answer them, so I continued on toward the next penalty tent where I could ask.

A couple kilometres later, I heard a thwacking sound coming from my front tire. Very similar to a flat, but the tire wasn’t losing any air. I had picked up a piece of electrical tape that got stuck to my tire. Smartly, I unclipped my right foot and tried to scrape it off at 25 km/h. Instead my foot got caught in the spoke and it got spit out and away from the bike. Maybe not the brightest maneuver ever.

The official at the penalty tent was not on the ball. I was standing there patiently while he was processing the cyclist before me. While this was going on, there were volunteers who took my picture and scratched a big red mark through my number with magic marker. By the time I got to the official to ask if I had a penalty, my number was already on his list. His English wasn’t good enough to be able to figure out what I was asking, so I just took the penalty. Maybe I deserved it. I’ll take it.

While I was waiting for my four minutes, there was a guy who came into the tent asking if anyone had a spare tire. Not a tube—the whole tire. I didn’t have one. Nobody else understood what he was asking. If I had one I may have offered it—but I would soon find out that I would have regretted it.

The support coming back into town was amazing. There were so many locals on the street cheering. The ride through the city with all the turns made it so much fun. There was another cyclist on the course who told me that on the second and third laps it gets even better. I couldn’t wait.

Just before the start of the second loop, I heard Annie yell out my name. I tried to tell her about the penalty when I saw Alex standing beside her cheering too. It was great to see Alex, but I was hoping to be able to see him on the course. Before the race he wasn’t confident that he would make the swim cutoff. The conditions wouldn’t have helped that. It put a bit of a damper on the excitement of being in the town.

I slightly increased my power output for the second lap, but still kept far off from the upper limit. It worked well for the first lap, so I didn’t want to take any chances. My heart rate during the whole race was considerably higher than I had experienced in training (about 10-15 bpm). Since my power numbers and perceived exertion agreed with each other, I chose to ignore my heart rate and use those two. I attributed it to the heat at first, and later to the caffeine intake. I didn’t have enough non-caffeinated gels, since every time I grabbed (what I had hoped to be a non-caffeinated) gel from the aid stations, they had double caffeine. So much for getting nutrition from the course. Note to future self: don’t rely on what’s available on the course for nutrition.

Around the back half of the island I felt a thump-thump-thump from the back tire. At first I figured I must have picked up another piece of tape, only this time there was more of a feel than a sound. I looked back and the tire looked slightly out of round. No big deal I thought. I just wanted to make sure before I passed the bike special needs area. I had a spare tube and a couple CO2 cartridges, so if I needed anything there, maybe I would grab them.

When I stopped and had a look at the tire, I noticed it was actually beginning to split and separate at the seam. It was like I had too much air in the tire. But how could that be? I started riding again when I realized what I did that morning. I added 30 pounds of pressure using someone else’s pressure gauge. Not only that, but I did it early in the morning when the temperatures were cool. I was riding on some very hot, fairly rough pavement. When we were racing cars, we would see tire pressures jump up to 25% between the time we pumped them up and when we were on the track for a few laps.

I immediately pulled over again and let out a bit of pressure from the tire. After that, every twenty minutes or so I would squirt water on the tire to try and keep the temperatures down. Not sure if it helped, but it managed to hold out for the rest of the race.

Coming back through town I tried to relay to Annie that I may end up having to get a new tire somehow, but she was cheering so loudly, and there really wasn’t anything that could be done anyway.

The thump-thump-thump continued to get worse throughout the third lap. I was getting stressed out, and I started to get a bit of a headache. I didn’t know why. I’ve had them before from dehydration, but I was going through a bottle of water at every aid station. I was drinking more than I usually did, and I was still stopping to pee twice a lap. I figured maybe that was the problem, so I took a few salt tablets which coach Ayesha recommended I keep in case of an emergency. Did you drink too much water? Take some salt.

I’ve never used salt pills before, and before this point I’ve never been convinced that it’s been a problem for me. I’ve taken nutrition containing _some_ sodium, but I’ve always believed that if you hydrate properly you’ll never need to take pills. The difference was this time I was not hydrating normally, and I had no idea what to do about this headache.

At the same time my power dropped off considering the effort required. It got really hard to continue at the same wattage, so I listened to my body and backed off. My heart rate and my body were telling me that I should ignore the power numbers. Two against one again. I didn’t know if I was pushing too hard. Maybe I had too much caffeine (the aid stations had completely run out of gels by this point). If my issue was salt or hydration, maybe that would cause this too. I started cooling myself off by pouring water on my head. I didn’t know what helped me recover, but twenty minutes later I was feeling mostly back to normal.

Transition 2

It was a great relief to make it back to T2. The total bike time was 6:02. I’m slightly annoyed that I was unable to get under 6:00, which would have given me a 30 km/h average, but considering how I got there I’m still pleased. Annie caught me coming in and again coming out of the T2 tent. Pretty surprising, considering I was in and out in only 1:41.

The Run (well, sort of run)

The start of the run did not feel very good. I knew it was going to be a long afternoon, but I wasn’t expecting it to be that bad. I wanted to be conservative through the run too. I knew that if I would be able to run eight minutes at a 6:00 pace then walk two at 8:00, I would be in great shape to finish within my 12:00 target. Maybe. As long as I could keep things up and maybe skip a couple walk cycles.

I started the run by skipping the first walk cycle. The support walking out of the city was amazing. I wouldn’t have been able to walk if I wanted to. It was a bit of a mixed feeling having all the people cheering when I really didn’t feel very great at all. This was not like last time when I couldn’t stop smiling. It was an effort just to keep moving.

I didn’t see too many friends on the first loop. Mike was finishing up his first as I was starting. I think I saw Ayesha too, but things really started to get a little blurry.

There were mini missions that I would play in my head during the run to try and keep myself entertained. First was dealing with the math involved in reaching my sub-twelve hour goal. Another one was was to see how long I could hold off Erica from passing me. In St. George I had the same mini mission, and we had a great (walking) battle during the marathon. While I was walking before the finish of the first loop I saw a flash of pink pass me—I knew it was her. It wasn’t over yet though. I was going to skip the next walk cycle on the way in to town, and I was going to skip it again on the way out.

It seemed like the whole town was there to cheer us through the turnaround. There were so many people in the middle of the street giving high fives—there was only a narrow path for people to run through in single file. It was amazing to have this support with this group of latin drummers playing music at the perfect tempo for running. It was as much a dance as a run at this point. Annie was there again to cheer, where she asked me how I was doing. The only response I had was “I feel like death.” Apparently the drums didn’t help that much.

Coming out of town, I saw another flash of pink as Erica passed me again (or not—really at this point things weren’t feeling normal anymore). By the first aid station coming out of town things were starting to get fuzzier. I felt like I was drunk. I started talking to myself, which isn’t exactly unheard of for me during a long ride. Only this time I was talking back. I didn’t know what was going on. Volunteers were offering peanuts at the aid station, and despite what may do to my stomach I took them. That tasted like the best food I ever had.

Still I was unable to run in a straight line. I didn’t realize at the time, but I also had stopped sweating. I was still drinking water, but I was having problems coordinating the water to actually go in my mouth! I started walking when my walk timer went off, then I had the good sense to keep walking. The solo conversation continued. Part of me was arguing that the reason I was feeling so disoriented was because I had too much caffeine. My blood pressure was too high, and I needed some tequila to bring it back down. The other part was arguing that it was because I was drinking too much water, and I needed more salt to counteract it. Obviously they didn’t see the connection between salt and tequila yet!

The debate started to get heated as I saw Erica run by in the opposite direction. I wanted to cheer her on, but at this point all I was capable of doing was making an exaggerated happy face with two thumbs up. Eventually both sides of George agreed that the real culprit was my Movember moustache. I was still grabbing everything I was offered at the aid stations, so while this argument was going on I somehow ended up with a bag of ice. I put this bag of ice on my head, then I moved it to my chest. I put it under my armpits, I put it in my shorts. From there it went back to my head again, and over and over until the whole bag melted.

With about five k left in the second lap I was mostly recovered. I cheered Ali as she passed me on her final lap, looking amazingly fresh. She would go on to secure a Kona slot. At this point I made a deal with moustache that if he brought us back into town running then I won’t shave it. It worked. I started sweating again, and I ran the last two kilometres into town to the cheering and the drums.

This time I stopped to talk to Annie. I told her about how moustache saved the day. I knew she thought I was a little bit crazy, but then I confirmed it by talking about everything happened, and how I finally realized I had heatstroke. But despite all the setbacks, the real reason I made it was because of moustache. Moustache brought me back to her, so he’s going to live another day.

The third loop was about as miserable as you could expect. I spent most of the time walking, sometimes talking to people, sometimes just taking the time to reflect. I got to cheer Melanie from LOST as she was walking in the opposite direction. I saw the couple from Tennessee walking together. The woman hadn’t been able to make the swim cutoff, but she was able to rejoin the run. I later found out that she walked over 55k between the swim start, transition, our hotel and the marathon. I met a guy who was going to propose to his girlfriend at the finish. He was running with the ring, and he was getting excited as he was starting to close into the finish. He kept me running as long as I could, but eventually I had to let him go and finish on my own.

After a couple false starts, I finally managed to run it in to the finish. The drums were still going, but the crowds had thinned out. I was going to make it, but nowhere near my twelve hour target. Not even close to my second or third 12:15 or 12:30 goals. But I was still going to come in before the goal I had set at the start of the third lap—thirteen hours.

When I turned the final corner into the finish chute, I was able to run faster and better than I had at any other point in the race. I saw 12:57 up on the clock, and gave an unintentional fist pump when I knew I would make my goal. It was a great finish, and I was super excited. It wasn’t really a letdown that I wasn’t as excited at the finish as I was in St. George. But I wasn’t.

More than anything, I was relieved that the marathon was over. I got my medal, my pizza, my picture, and sat on the ground with Annie for a half an hour before I wanted to do anything. I wasn’t looking forward to the walk out of town for a cab, but there was one about 100m out from the finish offering rides. It was all we needed. It got me back to the hotel—and of course the beer—quicker.

Post-race

The last couple days of the trip were nice to unwind and catch up. Annie and I were able to get in a nice recovery swim together, she had a run, and I had a very helpful recovery spin. I was finally able to descend steps again. I was too lazy to make the awards non-banquet, where Ali got her Kona slot, but we were able to make the after non-party at Señor Frog’s. There didn’t seem to be too many athletes showing up there—most must have just stayed at their resort.

On the last day Annie and I rented a car and met up with Alex and his wife. We drove the bike course, did a tequila tour, ate at a restaurant on the far side of the island, and saw some ruins. It was exactly what we needed. Time to chill out and recover. Of course not everyone got the same memo—we ran into Ali at the ruins. She, Marvin and her friends had ridden their bikes out along the most pothole-filled road to get there. They endured an unexpected storm, and ended up covering around 60 km over the day!

That night the group of us from Toronto had a great dinner in town—the perfect way to close off a great week away. I admit that I may have had been partially responsible for a few hurting faces the next morning in the airport. Tequila is the one Spanish word that seems to roll off my tongue quite easily.

There were a few people upset when we landed back in Toronto when their bikes didn’t make the trip. Mine was one of them again. While I was at the counter there was a man complaining about how the past five years he has taken the same flight on the same week, and they’ve left his bike every time. Those are pretty bad odds, but I’m not sure how they could get around it. I had to wait a couple days to get my bike, but I still got it back in one piece.

Not sure how to close this off. It was an amazing trip and a great race. I feel very lucky to have had such great people to share it with. That’s all, the end.

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The Swim

The swim takes place at 12:00 noon at the base of Sunnyside Pavilion, as a part of the Toronto Polar Bear Dip, in support of Habitat for Humanity. To enter the race, you would be required to fundraise a minimum of $30 for the event. Since there’s no actual swim, and not everyone is interested in jumping into frigid water without a wetsuit, there’s a bit of a change from a traditional triathlon.

Whoever would like to do the dip automatically gets a three-minute bonus subtracted from their time at the end of the race. On top of that, the person who stays in the water the longest gets an additional three minutes subtracted from their race time (for a total of six minutes).

For those who are unable or unwilling to swim, they can choose a swimmer as a proxy for them. If they choose the swimmer who stays in the longest, they will also get the winner’s three-minute bonus (just the three minutes, not the full six).

Transition 1

There is no rush for the first transition. All participants can dry off, warm up, and get their bike gear on in peace. The timed portion doesn’t start until the bikes leave en masse.

The Bike

The bike course is a 12.5k route that starts at Sunnyside Pavilion, travels west along the Martin Goodman Trail, then up the Humber Valley Trail to Old Mill. From there the trail goes out to the main street, turns right, goes down a cobblestone street, and up a fairly decent hill. At the top there is a left turn, a steep descent, and then the course follows the same route back.

In case of deep snow… well things might just get a little interesting.

Preliminary route is available here.

Transition 2

Simple enough: throw your bike in the car or lock it up.

The Run

The run is a simple 5k out-and-back along the Martin Goodman Trail. It encircles Marilyn Bell Park (the first person who swam across Lake Ontario), and ends back at the transition area. Here is the preliminary route.

Transition 3

This ends the timed portion of the event. From here, all participants will meet back at the transition area / finish line for the last participant to finish. At that point, the trip is made to as-yet-to-be-determined location.

The Recovery

From here, participants will be able to consume Irish and Spanish coffees and greasy food, thereby eliminiating any last possible side-effects of the previous night’s escapades.

This is a work in progress, so everything is subject to change and will be updated as it goes along!

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Immediately after the race I was guided by my “catcher,” who is a volunteer who… well… catches a lot of people who collapse at the end of the race. I didn’t think I needed it, but I was wrapped in a foil blanket, and tightly guided past the medical tent (“do you think you require any assistance from the tent?”), and into the food area. I had a couple slices of pizza, and hung out with other finishers and talked about our races.

E came in soon after and we took the shuttle back to the hotel so we could come back for our bikes. We had a bit more pizza and some ice cream sandwiches. We could hear the last finisher in the background, but we couldn’t move quickly enough to get there in time. We did manage to see the fireworks though.

Days 5 and 6

The day after the race was spent doing absolutely nothing. I started my preliminary race report, caught up with all the comments from friends, and read as many reports of the race as I could. I missed the awards, which started at 7:00 am the next day, opting for bed instead. It was worth it. This is where I noticed how bad my burn was.

The next day we headed to Bellagio back in Las Vegas. It was one of the best decisions of the trip. It was relatively inexpensive, centrally located, and (unexpectedly) had a 50m pool. Walking wasn’t too painful anymore, so I went around checking out what was different, had something to eat, then went back to the pool to get in a short 900m recovery swim. It was much harder to swim than I expected. I felt very sloppy after all the survival mode swimming I had done a couple days earlier.

Brian from swim recommended a mountain bike tour shop in town. I wanted to do a tour, but they weren’t offering anything during the week for one person. Instead I just rented a full-suspension mountain bike, bought a map, and went out to Red Rock Canyon for what I expected to be a relatively light recovery workout. It wasn’t.

The first loop was one called Dinosaur Teeth. It was classed as an intermediate trail. I wasn’t sure if that was referring to the fitness level required, or the balls required. Turned out it was both. The first 5 km were completely uphill. I was moving along fairly well, and only fell once before I reached the peak.

Of course I took some video too. You might want to turn down the sound—it’s still pretty windy.

The descent was fairly technical and fast. I was riding my brakes down most of the way, and there was no way I could stop smiling. I forgot how much I used to love mountain biking. This is something I need to do more of.

The loop was just over 10k, which took about an hour. I used one water bottle and felt pretty good. I went back to the gas station (I must have visited this gas station every time I’ve been to Vegas), grabbed a sandwich and some hydration, and went back out for a different loop. This one was about double the distance. I only had room for one water bottle on the bike, so I downed a litre of water and Gatorade before I left, thinking that would be enough. It should have been—if the ride lasted two hours.

Dead Horse Loop was a much harder trail to follow. I missed the first turnoff, and ended up taking a fire trail to climb the first ascent. Once I met up with the trail it was gorgeous. Every turn the scenery changed. One minute it would be dry, boring desert, then the next the ground would be yellow. Then it would turn pinkish, then deep reds and browns, to rocky whites. The vegetation changed colour and density at the same time. It was surreal.

After climbing a switchback (which I thought was the Devil’s Escalator), the climb just got worse. My GPS was showing a 25% grade (it was actually only 19). I had to walk the bike up the rest of the hill, mostly because the rocks were insane.

The descent from this wasn’t as much fun. It was still rocky, so I wasn’t able to build up much speed. About an hour and a half in, while still descending this hill, I pretty much ran out of water. I was still traveling away from the car too. This made me slightly nervous. Even though the bike shop said there were always people out there, I hadn’t seen anyone on this trail at all. There were fire trails, but how exactly would I get rescued if something happened?

This is where I decided to turn around without completely following the trail. Apparently I just missed the part where you get a scenic view of Las Vegas from the top of the mountain. Did I mention how much climbing this trail had? It started at 1400 metres, and the peak was 1600 metres—one mile. That’s 600 feet right there, but when you include all the ups and downs the total was 700 metres, or about 2300 feet.

Just after turning around, I came across a pack of wild horses. I really thought wild horses was just an expression. They were spooked by me just before I took this video (and they ran off soon after).

Right after that I started the final descent. I read in the map that it was called the Three Mile Smile. For some reason I was thinking it was called Three Miles in Heaven, which might have been something completely different.

I wish I had some imagery of this, but it was way too amazing to stop. It went back through the deep reds and browns from earlier. It was very technical and very fast. I didn’t take it easy either. All the worry of running out of water was forgotten, and my ear-to-ear smile came back. The three miles were over way too quickly. If I had more time and more water I might have actually done it again. Just amazing.

After dropping off the bike, I quickly drove back to the hotel for a quick dip, got dressed, and started the trip home. It was much easier on the way back, and this time we weren’t charged much for our bikes.

And that’s it!

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