"You're back."

My skin was tingling and my heart was singing, climbing out of the cool lake with my family. After a long overnighter at work, Andrew had come home empty, wanting more than anything to lie on the couch and wake up tomorrow. Knowing the lake would clear his mind, Maddy was the one to ask her Dad to join us....yes, like most Dads...he's wrapped around his little girl's finger. We just swam to the four-poster dock, our 'minimum' swim. In that short distance, Maddy had already scrambled on and off her paddle board about four times, played tag, raced to the buoys, chased birds...as six year olds do. The sound of a little girl giggling is the best way to erase the stress of the day.

Not having seen each other for a few days, I noticed Andrew staring at me in the kitchen as I danced around making dinner and laughing with Maddy. A slow smile spread across his face. "You're back." I knew what he meant. I just realized it myself. I wasn't moving around the kitchen like an old lady anymore. The pit in my stomach was gone, and I was genuinely laughing out loud, instead of trying to look happy for Maddy's sake. I just smiled back.

It's amazing what some sleep and some mobility can do for one's mood. Here's the part where I share way too much information. I got a rash about 10 days ago. This was a sneaky rash that looked totally innocuous in the cool morning air, then ramped up throughout the day as the temperature rose, and by nighttime it was a raging mess of raised hives. Initially I thought some Benadryl would do the trick. My doctor then gave me a steroid cream, thinking I had 'lake itch'. A week later, down in Penticton watching Ironman, my dear friend and nurse marched me into a drop-in clinic where I was prescribed Prednisone. I take this high-powered drug with respect, and for the first time in a week have slept like a baby. Back to normal sleep.....CHECK!

I know darn well that it is pitiful to mope about a tiny little injury while people are struggling with real physical challenges, illness, and massive injury. As I've mentioned before, I'm embarrassed about my mood, as my rational brain scoffs this small physical trial. At this point, I haven't got the tool set to alter my mood when my activity level is limited. Over the years, movement and physical effort have become integral to my way in the world. I'm getting the picture that my tool set needs expanding, as these may not always be available to me. As I dance around the kitchen, jump up and down cheering at Ironman, mobility is back....CHECK!

Watching Ironman this year was moving. It always is, and I've never spectated without my heart in my throat as the start canon explodes, jumping for joy as the riders race out of town, and tears of admiration as they make their way back to the finish line. As I watched more than 2000 people, of all different sizes, ages and backgrounds, undertake this massive task, I just felt awe and respect for each of them. I watched most people finish ecstatic with their performance and completion of the event. I spoke with a few people after the race, however, who were devastated with their performance being off their goal times. I've been there, and have felt that disappointment. From my perspective on the weekend, I felt so sad that these people could not see how brave they were to tackle the day and all the unexpected challenges that came their way. They could not see their race as a success to have confronted such challenges and persevered. I think my own perspective on racing will be altered.

So, on that note, I have a plan! I am registered for Ironman Wisconsin, where my own start canon will blast in two weeks time. Andrew is fit and ready to rock this race. I'm not, but I have a plan. I plan to participate. I will put on the athlete wrist band. I will swim my heart out. I will ride my road bike upright, as it's more comfortable on the knee. I will walk the whole darn marathon. And I will finish before the 17 hour cut-off. The bike and run courses are looped, so I'll bow out and take off my race number if need be. Otherwise, I will just take it all in, and enjoy an awesome day of participating in a phenomenal event surrounded by people demonstrating guts and determination. Sound like fun?! Let's hope so.

Here are some photos of things that make me happy...kids being pirates...girlfriends...deer that eat my garden...sweating on a trainer...even for 30 minutes...family swims.

Stream of consciousness

Well here I am....16 days out from IM Wisconsin. Here is some stream of consciousness from the past few weeks.

Week One:
"OK Self, use your brain. It's still 6 weeks until your event. Carefully plan your rehab, and it will all fall in place. Andrew is going to tease you when you are standing on the start line raring to go...All that fuss for nothing."

Week Two:
"Geez, maybe I'm just trying too hard and giving too much stimulus to the area. I have spent hundreds of dollars of physiotherapy and massage. I'm grateful for the expertise I'm getting...but maybe I should just buy a T.V. and chill out!"

Week Three:
"OK, Powers that Be, I realize that I've been greedy. I'll trade my IM experience for comfort while sleeping, driving, and playing with Maddy...oh, and maybe paddle boarding too...or is that too greedy?"

Week Four:
"Ok ok subconscious. Pipe down. Don't get excited. I know it's getting a little better. Yes, you're right...it didn't even hurt walking with Maddy to the park. Oh stop it, that wasn't really a run...but you're right, it felt pretty darn good. Remember, I haven't even tried the bike yet. OK YES, I'm excited, it's WAY better!!! But that doesn't mean I'm racing...so calm down."

What a wild few weeks. As I mentioned in my first blog entry, I NEED to exercise. I could feel my sanity slipping as the days went by with a low heart rate. At one point I did SpiroTiger (a device to train your respiratory system) for an hour, just to breathe really hard and see if it would lift my spirits. It actually worked a little, as I loved feeling of at least one part of me being tired for a moment.

With all this extra time, I attempted to get a few things done...some accounting, homework for a course I'm taking, a start on my long term business plan etc. I was about as successful as a crack addict with ADHD.

The real highlight of these weeks has been the support from my beautiful family. Imagine coming home from a long stint of work with a few night shifts thrown in, with a long commute in 35 degree heat, in the height of your own Ironman training, barely getting enough rest and sleep, and arriving home to a CRAZY person. Somehow my remarkable husband was able to love me when I was unloveable, and subtly coax me in the right direction for recovery. My sweet daughter is wise beyond her 6 years, and the essence of joy. She has taken on my return to fitness as a mission, and gone paddling with me while I swam, and biked with me while I walked. Most importantly, I was reminded every moment where my priorities lie.

The Lioness

I saw this short clip of Lauren Fleshman following her success of getting to the finals in the U.S. Olympic Trials in the 5000m. She is over the moon with reaching the finals. She had been injured for months with ITB syndrome. As you'll see in her interview, she trained almost exclusively with swimming and elliptical. As the months ticked off, she was not much closer to being ready for the olympic trials. She could sprint but not run. Prior to the event, she had run no more than 2 miles consecutively. She got to the start line on 10 miles of running a week. With an opportunity to run at the Olympics, at 30 years old, she would attempt the impossible. She had to step up to the line in a high-profile event, and believe it was possible to outrun her highly trained compatriots to earn a berth at the Olympic games.


Lauren Fleshman-US Olympic trials 5000m

At the very end of the interview (this is the short version), she mentions the lion. She visualizes the face of a beautiful healthy lion to represent courage. In the final 200m sprint to the line, every cell in her body is screaming for her to stop. Her mind has to override the instinctual safety mechanisms that make us slow down. She needs a powerful mental force to continue to push the pace and run even harder. The visualization allows her to replace the inner voices reminding her that she has trained a fraction of what the other women have done, she has not run more than 2 miles in a stretch, she hasn't raced since the year prior. She sees the lion. She is the lion. She has the courage of a lion. She reaches the line to make the final for the 5000m Olympic trials. The lion will be summoned again at the final, to earn her Olympic berth.

OK...so I'm not going to the Olympics. I race as an age-group athlete, admiring the professional triathletes from afar. But whether you are first or last, your body and mind still try and convince you to stop the discomfort, stop running, stop moving, have a beer!

I raced at the Desert Half Ironman in July this year, just after watching this clip. I had thought of the lion a great deal, but the concept needed just a little tweaking for me. In my visualization, I had a lioness leading my way. The lioness is the mother and the hunter. She is smart, savvy, self-controlled, and powerful beyond measure. The lioness was with me much of that race. In my mind she would pad ahead of me at a trot, and look back over her shoulder straight into my eyes. There are so many choices to make during a long race. I would make a decision about fuelling or pace, and she would simply support me in my decision. Her encouragement came in the form of a strong a confident nudge, "good. move on." She didn't allow me to dwell on things too long. She allowed me to enjoy the race without self-doubt and distracting thoughts. At one point she moved from her trot to a flat out run, and she was amazing. I love that she can be calm and calculating, but also fierce and powerful.

The lioness has been with me briefly a few more times in hard training sessions. She had me laughing out loud on one occasion. I was swimming with my friend Kara in the lake, and the wind kicked up. I was having trouble getting a breath as the waves curled over my head. I felt a tad scared, but knew deep down that I was not in trouble. I tried to summon the lioness to support me. She appeared in a haze, and I couldn't quite see her eyes like I usually do. Her message was something along the lines of "Um no....you don't need me." She was chastising me for summoning her for something trivial, that didn't require her immense power. Apparently I'm not to waste her time.

The brain and the heart...a disconnect.

I've been writing a blog in my head for years. I write it while I'm on the bike trainer, spinning away in the garage. I write it when I'm trotting through the trails at Elison Park, enjoying the sounds and smells of nature. I write it when I'm mid-race, and I want to share it all with someone. The only glitch is that the words have never gone digital. It's all tucked away in my neat little brain. I'm not sure if anyone will ever read my words, but my brain is running out of room, so I'll begin to bleed the lines a little...

It just turns out that I'm very sad these days. I'm embarrassed to be sad because my life is brilliant. I have all the opportunities in the world for fulfillment. I'm well loved. I have superb friends. I live in luxury. I have constant adventures. I'm pretty much spoilt rotten. But these days I've got a pit in my stomach as I negotiate my way through the day, and I'm on the brink of tears much of the time. The problem is that I won't be competing at Ironman Wisconsin with my husband in 3 1/2 weeks. I've got an inflamed bursa and patellar tendonitis, and it's a show stopper. I'm devastated about it.

I've had to analyze why I'm so gutted. I think I would be less upset if something happened last minute, like stomach flu, or a bike mechanical. I might be wrong, but I feel most upset about missing a month of adventures with Andrew. He took some time off work, and we arranged daycare on certain days and had hours of shared training and adventures planned together. We had a taste of it two weeks ago, and it was the best day of my summer.

Last week the BPR crew had training days together, and stopped at our place to refuel mid-ride. I was so incredibly jealous of their need to pound the fluids and carbohydrates. Yes, I was even jealous when Emma smeared a peanut butter gel on her toast! Ok...not really...but you get the point. I crave that feeling after miles on the bike, skin thick with salt, when the body and mind has only one goal...to recover from the awesome effort.

Another reason I'm on the brink of tears all the time is that I NEED exercise. Really...I NEED it. Just ask my poor husband. I'm not even likeable without exercise. It's makes me wonder what I'll be like when I'm ninety, and perhaps not up for Ironman training. Oooohhh...I'll be a real treat.

I've given it a good shot with acupuncture, IMS, massage, stretching, rolling, positional changes on the bike, praying, begging, tantrumming, but alas...no change yet. I guess it's time to pick up my pom poms, and be the best support Andrew could have in Wisconsin. I expect that he will dig deeper than he's known, as I've impressed on him how fortunate he is to just get to the start line.

Rationally, I know that my feelings do not match the nature of the issue. Rationally I know that I should be disappointed and frustrated, annoyed perhaps, but not grieving. My brain just has to communicate better with my heart. Therapy is on it's way. Tomorrow I've got the girls coming for a swim and coffee. With this crew I can count on laughter therapy and caffeine, both of which make me just a little bit more tolerable to be around.