No more Tri dreams for me

Yes, that’s right: next year, no triathlons. My goal for next year is to increase my core strength and functional range to prevent future injuries to my back, neck and hips. I am presently dogged by lower back spasms, constant deep-tissue back pain, a tear in a ligament near the hip, strained hip flexors, a flare-up of my old trapezius injury, and neck issues severely limiting mobility; in short, I am a mess. And at my worst state of health so far this year, I am due to race a Half-Ironman tomorrow morning.

I am close to giving up cycling. I’ve spent hundreds of dollars and countless hours on physiotherapy, massage, new bike parts, bike fittings, medical appointments, and gear. I suck royally at swimming. My running has always been slow. I am at my wit’s end.

I will have to take up Yoga or Pilates (seriously, anyone want to join me?), probably continue swimming if it doesn’t hurt, and consider getting a personal trainer. I doubt I’ve seen my last massage treatment, and I’ll soon get to be good friends with the sports doc, x-ray machine, and painkiller bottle. But for now, I have tomorrow to worry about.

My bike has been modified to help me get through the race: my aerobars have been removed. I’ve ridden with aerobars all summer and now I’m back to roadie-style, just in time for the biggest event of my season… hoping that a straighter, more upright back will ease the tension and spasms. My bars have been moved up 0.5 cm’s; my bike still has a net increase in seat-bar drop of 2.5 cm’s over last year, and riding in the aerobars all season increased the virtual drop by another 2-3 cms. My poor back/ hamstrings/ hip group just couldn’t take it… I couldn’t get high enough on the seat to ease the hip angle (due to tight hamstrings and pedalling style), or forward enough (due to huge decreases in power and stability). I couldn’t even raise my bars further up due to stability issues. So tomorrow I’ll attempt the Half, riding on the hoods 60%, tops 30%, and drops 10%.

Frankly, I’m scared. I can barely bend over now, and woke up this morning with my back in spasm. Currently taking muscle relaxants and painkillers, and totally at a loss to fix this problem. From its gradual onset, I’d expect an equally slow recovery.

I just want to finish this one, last duathlon.

Do you have everything you need?

... that was what the guy called out to me as he sped down Cedarview N. I had pulled off the road to tighten my seat bolt. I had time to consider briefly the politeness of that question, because it did not necessarily imply that I lacked mechanical skill, but merely that I may have been so short-sighted as to forget to pack my multi-tool. Regardless, if/ when my chain breaks en route someday, I will certainly be at the mercy of some fellow asking that same question. In that case, I will say "Do you have a chain tool?"

But in this case, no help was needed. I gave my most macho, "I don't need a Y chromosome to fix a bike"-smile, and said "Everything except a cute cyclist like you."

Ok, actually I didn't say that. I just held up my multi-tool and said "Thanks".

I may have seen the same fellow on my way back (50k and a nasty bee-sting later), because he gave a distinct wave (most guys give me a half-hearted nod) and I grinned like a madwoman and waved back. So altogether, an okay ride considering I've just started to eat real food again. Averaged just less than 27kph for 100k, took some flat gingerale on the bike and just hoped to get home by dark without puking. In that light, success. Overall, still weak and tired. Still can't believe I have to do a Half Ironman next weekend in this condition.

*sniff* Also, a splash of vinegar helps a bit for the pain of hornet stings. Just so you know.

Not for sensitive stomachs

Well Saturday I rode 3.5h and ran 1h, and pretty much exhausted my legs and killed my poor butt on the brand new saddle. How frustrating. Sunday, I sat in a daze in front of my computer and looked for solutions to my bike gear problems. After ripping out my hair and generally wasting way too much time, a great friend saved me and it was off to MEC and Bushtukah, followed by some eats at The Works in Westboro.

Weird place, but good! I had never heard of drinking soda/ coffee/ water out of measuring cups before. It also took me 15 minutes just to read the darn menu…. I ended up having this chicken burger with the "Down Under" toppings: Pineapple, caramelized onion, beets, and fried egg. Surprisingly good… with sides of sweet potato fries and onion rings. I then had a beer and some flax chips at home, while relaxing with an episode of CSI and attempting to stretch out my sore back and legs. While I missed my workout yesterday, and ate heaps of junk food to boot, it's all good because I ended up losing much of that food to the porcelain goddess early, early this morning.

Didn’t get much sleep, and probably should have stayed home from work, but? I can’t really workout today either, so why bother staying home when my cubicle is quieter, and explaining Monday morning sickness to my boss just isn’t palatable right now. However, I did have a lot of time to research the evolutionary science behind vomit and vomiting… fascinating stuff, but I’ll spare you the details. Wiki has a good article...scroll to “Nausea Inducement in Groups.”

Now attempting to sip diluted grape Gatorade… hopefully I will graduate to Jello and crackers today. The good news is, my estimated net caloric intake over the last 3 days is -1100, so I'm smack-on my diet plan. I’m not advocating bulimic behaviors, but I do find it interesting that my body self-regulates food intake: must be a survival instinct. Also, combining heavy, unusual foods with caffeine, vitamins, booze and painkillers might not have been a great idea.

Sports Nutrition

I have decided that I’ve finally had enough of being the fattest female triathlete in Ottawa. Ha… seriously though, I’ve identified some nutritional deficiencies and bad habits that could be hazardous to my health as the off-season approaches, and as I get older and my metabolism slows down.

Numerous diet attempts, calorie-counting, and other restrictions have all met with failure over the years… I have neither gained nor lost a single pound since I was a teenager. My body seems programmed to stay at this composition and I’ve also “plateaued” athletically. Well this is causing me some distress and unhappiness, so I’m going to try a new and more balanced approach.

Wenzel Coaching/ Scott Saifer’s main Fueling plan for endurance athletes seems to be a good place to start, so I’ll outline the four general “Rules” to follow:

1. Cut out all processed sugars (except DURING exercise); avoid sucrose, glucose, fructose, dextrose, and corn-syrup. Consumption of fruit is not restricted. Reduce consumption of high glycemic index foods, e.g. white flours and starches (except DURING exercise).

2. Balance in every meal (include “good” fats and protein).

3. Drink lots of water. Avoid fruit juice and soft drinks.

4. Eat lots of vegetables.

Now, this plan doesn’t explicitly address alcohol, but since booze contains only empty calories, I’m going to restrict myself to a maximum of two (2) alcoholic drinks per 15+ hour workout week, one (1) drink per 10-15 hour workout week, and zero (0) allowed for each week where I exercise less than 10 hours. The only exception is during a race week: one extra drink is allowed that week, post-race.

Another source I am consulting is Monique Ryan’s “Complete Guide to Sports Nutrition”, and various publications from the Australian Institute of Sport. Stay tuned for updates as I attempt to wean myself off sugar and junk between Labour Day and Thanksgiving.

Flash 'n' Dash

Why is it always such an ordeal to get my butt into the bike shop?

So yesterday I spent 2.5h cruising around on wonderful public transit, getting to the UPS customer service centre to pick up my new bike saddle. It’s a Selle Italia Lady Sport Gel Flow. Long name for a relatively simple thing, isn’t it? Anyway, my old Trans Am Lady was getting “smushy” and worn, so I opted for getting another—practically identical—model. Don’t want to take risks when it comes to my ass. Needless to say, for now it’s surprisingly hard and uncomfortable… only time will tell.

The other issue was my floor pump (Joe Blow Sport), which has been giving me crazy readings of 140-160psi and bottoming out there, while the “actual” tire pressure is no higher than 80. I need to inflate to 100-110psi about twice per week, and this is infuriating. Snap, flip, psst, PUMP PUMP … bottoms out. So I release the lever to reset the gauge… wffffffffft. Snap, flip, psst, PUMP PUMP … bottoms out. Tires still soft. I groan and curse; why is cycling so complicated? And then I go for a run. I’ve done two 18k runs already this week, just because I am pissed off at my bike.

So I went to the shop and this Super-Lean-Guy (SLG, married perhaps to a S-L-C) pumps my tires up with a fancy, powerful piece of equipment and reads out the pressure from its fancy, digital gauge. Nice. “Do you want me to pump the back one up too?” he asks. “Er, yes, if you don’t mind…” I say, cringing in embarrassment. #@$%*(& …you’d think I’d know how to use a bicycle pump.

As I head out, he asks if I ever get hot in the sun, wearing all black kit. I say that I just wear black ‘cause I don’t want to be flashy. I say, “I think you need to go a certain speed to be flashy”. He laughs and says “Well I go slow, and I always wear as much white as I can.” I secretly wonder whether he means white shorts as well… then I think of a gazillion better things I could have said, like “I don’t suppose you ever go shopping for women’s jerseys, but if you did you’d see your colour choices confined to pink, lavender, and baby blue. I’m lucky to even have found black.” White? White is a euro colour, to be worn by skinny, flashy, super-serious fast dudes like that SLG… in fact all the SLG’s at my shop, in matching white gloves and shoes for heaven’s sake. They even do ‘cross races in white; maybe whoever stays cleanest gets the Snob Award and bragging rights.

The price of hope

I have always believed that the human body is extremely adaptable and the spirit is nothing short of miraculous. The amount of pain and suffering that some people can go through during their lives, all the while maintaining a positive outlook and an overall enjoyment of life’s remaining good moments, is to me, an incredible and awe-inspiring mystery. I am fortunate to be in better health than probably 90% of the world’s population, and live in one of the best countries in the world. I have good friends, a job, a safe place to live, and a full fridge. And I have to remember these things most of all.

So this morning I attended what was expected to be a routine visit to the dentist. It’s usually a bit arduous because of the damaged lower quadrant and nerves of my face—areas which are very sensitive to sharp instruments—but this time I was totally thrown…

I had requested a consult with the top dentist there, but did not anticipate his diagnosis. A permanently dislocated and mal-tracking left jaw, a worsening bite, and massive third-branch trigeminal nerve damage that he says could have been prevented with better surgical techniques. He then starts talking about recent scientific advances in nerve regeneration, and tells me that orthodontic work could fix my jaw joint and the attendant pain and snapping. He tells me that if I ever have a kid, take her to see him first, before doing any wisdom tooth extraction, as the healing process must have stopped partway through my ordeal. Worst of all though… was that I was on the verge of tears… I couldn’t get control of this, so I couldn’t ask questions, I couldn’t talk to the doctor, I just nodded and blinked and prayed like heck that I wouldn’t break down completely. I couldn’t even remember my own age. Although he gave me some pamphlets and such, I didn’t hear a word he said afterwards. The hygienist was surprised and asked me why I was upset. The dentist said I could bring my mom in with me next time (WTF!? My mother!?) And I realized just then that I looked like an idiot. And I knew that nobody really, nobody at all would understand why this was a big deal to me, and for that moment I have never felt more alone in the world.

I can accept that I will have permanent pain, and permanent loss of function in my jaw. I can accept that I will never eat a carrot without my jaw locking, that I can never sleep on my right side, that I will never again feel the space between my lip and my chin, that my right lower lip will drag when I get tired, that even kissing is uncomfortable, and that talking too much will eventually hurt. I can adapt, and I have. Seven years ago, with my doctor and after numerous tests and referrals, I decided that I wouldn’t pursue a career as a woodwind player because it caused me constant jaw and facial pain. I moved to Ottawa and studied Finance. I kept on living. I counted my blessings. I am in good health and lucky even to be alive. I live in a beautiful city. But what I can’t accept is that there could be hope to “fix” this…and that there could have been hope, back when I needed it. I can’t accept that my dreams were washed away unnecessarily, that the right amount of money and time could have prevented this, that I could be living such a different life than I am now.

I can’t accept that my last year of high-school, waiting in vain for my face to heal after surgery, teaching myself to play all over again, to eat and speak carefully… never needed to happen. That it was all a mistake. Not merely a twist of fate, but an outcome that wouldn’t have happened if my family had been well-off, or even had cared; if I had only been treated by a different surgeon and orthodontist, in a different city, at a different time.

And now I am torn; should I save up for a couple of years for the treatment (10-20G?) or is it too late… does it even matter to me anymore, like it would have mattered at age 18.

Athena's revenge

Alright, alright… about last weekend’s National Capital Du:

International Distance = 5k run, 40k bike, 10k run. Just long enough to demand some endurance, and just short enough to need some speed. I make no claims for speed; my comparative advantage is merely in shuffling along forever at a given pace. Thus, I do relatively “worse” in these events. Hey, I’ll never place in the top 10 but that’s not the point is it?

All in all, it was a beautiful morning, and a lovely day for this event. I’ve learned some lessons since the last time (June), and I made these changes:

1. Took a couple of days off before the race to ensure I had juice into my legs. This included having beer and pizza with my friends the night before. From now on, I’ll try not to stew anxiously at home, trying to get to sleep early – this is a futile exercise. 5 or 6 hours is plenty.

2. I got myself all packed up and ready to go the night before, including pumping up my tyres! Even planned what to cook for breakfast, put my water bottle in the freezer, and chose my Gatorade flavour du jour. Really reduces stress on race morning.

3. Had a nice, easy spin to the race. This got the blood flowing and my head in the game. I got there in plenty of time, and was racking my bike a full hour before the event started… got a decent spot, had time to stretch, walk around, check out the “real” washrooms; I even managed to avoid those horrible Porta-potties this time!

4. Re-laced my shoes with Yankz. Highly recommended! My running shoes fit like a glove and are a cinch to get on and off. Avoids pressure spots on the top of the foot, too.

5. Actually ate breakfast before the race this time. Also brought emergency food in case I needed to eat during the bike split.

The race itself went ok… I usually find the Start line a bit intimidating, with all these super low-fat people in team suits, playing with high-tech gadgets, talking about their workouts. I self-placed near the back; my goal for this event was to give it 100% on the bike leg and just relax on the runs (i.e. the last 10k should not feel like hell). I have been so disappointed with my cycling this year… my power dropping, my positioning problems, etc. I know I’ll be lucky to match my average speed at last year’s Half Iron (30.8kph), and this alone is depressing. Considering all the work I’ve done, frustrating beyond belief.

First 5k out of the way, nothing eventful. T1 was quick; only shoes and helmet this time around. (My awful glove-tan is gone now; half the time I ride bare-handed). The run out was long though, and I got stuck behind some people who were practically STROLLING out of the transition area. I watched with envy as some guy did a flying start with his bike… click click click jump - WHOMP and he’s pedalling away. I poked along from a standing start and tried like mad to pass him later.

Gave it my best on the bike…. some crosswinds halfway down the loop really ate into my speed. Still fighting with my positioning and knew that my back would be killing afterwards… probably should raise bars for breathing, too. Still had more power last year with a less aerodynamic position. Anyways, I wasn’t passed by many girls… one was the eventual winner, and the other was this serious, super-lean chick (SLC) in a cut-away tri-suit. She said something to me as I was rolling along, minding my business on the right side of the lane. Not sure exactly what it was, but a bit snobbish, like “coming through”. I mean, yeah, she’s skinny and fast, ok … it just bothered me. Needless to say, when I caught sight of her again (about 500m from the dismount line), it became a personal test to ride in on her wheel. I let it all go, doing 38kph up that incline on Colonel By, passing several guys on the way (who probably thought I was an idiot for ripping out the last part when I should be spinning in preparation for the run). I didn’t care, it was a vendetta! Revenge of Athena on the SLC! I sprinted out of the corner and reached the line within one bike length of her. Ha!

So I booted my ass into T2 and stood there, blinking for a second, wondering if I was forgetting something (rack bike, helmet off, change shoes). It was so fast with those darn laces! And then with a grimace, I forced my poor legs out of transition… right on the tail of the same SLC. I allowed myself just one self-satisfied smirk before she took off ahead of me on her superior running legs.

Settled into the 10k run and tried to enjoy it… not surprisingly, passed often by people I’d beaten on the bike. Watched with envy as light, skinny girls with bulging arm muscles (what? from swimming?) practically FLEW over the course. Soon realized I’d never hit my 2h30 goal time… next year, gotta work on that running some more.

Happy to see the finish line (at 2:38), but had no juice left for a final sprint. After two bottles of water, a banana, a granola bar, some unflattering pictures (!) and good company, I was off to ease my aching legs with a nice spin home.

So far I’ve come… and yet, so far to go.

Dog days

It’s August, and it’s hot. Dog days, indeed. My poor, over-worked portable Danby A/C tries valiantly at night to cut the humidity so I can sleep; during any other time of the day, it is futile to even attempt cooling. Environmentally friendly, yes…. miserable, yes again. So far I have had the most luck sleeping with ice packs, in a wet T-shirt, with 2 fans blowing right over me. I also sleep on a futon, which helps in proximity to the floor. When I get really frustrated, it’s time for frozen yogurt and beer. I mean, sleeping is over-rated and I really don’t spend much time at home, but… I suppose I’m getting soft in my old age.

Especially now that I’m trying to rest my exhausted legs before Saturday’s race… ugh. I can barely climb stairs at this point and have two strained hip flexor muscles, plus a nasty foot cramp in the right forefoot. Yesterday was interesting: my swim coach said my form was downright “awful” while I almost drowned in exhaustion, and my planned 60k ride with a few tempo efforts turned into a survival spin on the pathway, where I was easily passed by commuters. I also got caught downwind of some spit, spurting from the craw a crotchety old fellow on a flat-tired mountain bike. I flicked it off my knee and made some awful faces while gesticulating wildly and shaking my head; the Cyclelogik guy coming the other way must’ve thought I was a “crazy”.

All this is ample warning indeed for a sub-par duathlon performance… don’t expect any great things from me this time. Feeling quite subdued after a recent discovery; lessons learned.

Nothing like the blunt truth to cheer you up.