"Time heals all wounds".
It's been 4 months since my DNF at IMC last August, where I spent 1 hr 20 mins in T2. I was dumbstruck, I couldn't comprehend what happened to me on the bike, and I feared what might occur on the run. "To conquer fear is the beginning of wisdom." Fear won out, and honestly, I was relieved to DNF.
The Chairman of the Board might croon "Regrets, I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention..." but the sting of DNF still lingers. In that moment, in that place and time, it was the right thing to do. Life is made up of a multitude of such moments. And with the passage of time, I look back on the movie of my life, from a perspective not known to me last August. Reviewing A day in my life.....
"I read the news today, oh boy
About an Ironman who had a rough day
And though the news was rather sad
Well, I just had to laugh
There was no finish line photograph"
I should have left T2, and tried to finish what I started.
"Time wounds all heals."
I lived to see another day. Hopefully, "another day" will be IMC 2012, when I'll participate in my 14th consecutive Ironman Canada, and look for my 13th finish.
In previous Ironmans, I might be disappointed how slow I was, or how difficult it got for me. I'd cross the finish line half hearted, not appreciating the accomplishment.
But next August, the Tri Gods willing, I will respectfully redeem my awe and humilation of the event. I hope to defeat the demons of my DNF, even if it takes finishing past midnight.
My friend Kevin says there are 2 kinds of pain: The pain of discipline, and the pain of regret. The pain of my DNF still stings, and likely will until I cross that line next August.
In 1999 I was proud to join the Ironman finisher's club. In a way, I'm equally proud to be a member of the Ironman DNF club. Experiencing my DNF put Ironman Canada in perspective for me. As I get older, and slower, there will be a day when I won't be able to finish under 17 hours.
"And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming
Or the moment of truth in your lies
When everything feels like the movies
Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive"
I bled that day in Penticton. But I'm alive, and I choose to Tri again. See you next August.
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Sunday, August 7, 2011
The Taper, and apologies to Stephen Hawking
Ironman Canada in 3 weeks. My lack of training wishes it were 3 months. Can't do anything about that now, it's officially "The Taper".
With apologies to Cosmologists, one could say IMC is a black hole, and the taper the event horizon. Months ago, IMC seemed distant, light years away. Now, not quite visible, I know it's out there, I feel it pulling me in. It looms ominously, I'm caught in it's gravity, and there's no turning back. I'm on a collision course with IRONMAN.
From 3 weeks out I'm in the safety of the taper. Things still seem fairly normal. But with each day's dawn, I'm nearer to my fate. The taper will stretch my wits, and challenge my sanity. I'll feel lousy and out of shape. I'll reduce my training, and have extra hours each day, as if time itself were slowing down. Then I'll idle in doubt, anxiety, and temptation to do more.
It will peak in Penticton when I see the chiselled bodies of disciplined training. The figures fast and aero on machines of carbon. Runners fleet of foot, an effortless display of fitness. Like Hubble, I view the pure Universe of Ironman, seeing images of beauty and awe. "Starstuff pondering the stars" (Carl Sagan).
As a species we're on the shores of the Cosmic ocean, just dipping out toes. But we exist, we ponder our existance, and we seek to find answers.
What happens in a Black hole is theoretical; it's secrets revealed only from first hand experience. So too with Ironman Canada. Some secrets you'll discover, others Ironman Canada will keep. What you learn from Ironman Canada, is what you learn about yourself. And to find these answers, you'll have promises to keep, and miles to go, before you sleep.
With apologies to Cosmologists, one could say IMC is a black hole, and the taper the event horizon. Months ago, IMC seemed distant, light years away. Now, not quite visible, I know it's out there, I feel it pulling me in. It looms ominously, I'm caught in it's gravity, and there's no turning back. I'm on a collision course with IRONMAN.
From 3 weeks out I'm in the safety of the taper. Things still seem fairly normal. But with each day's dawn, I'm nearer to my fate. The taper will stretch my wits, and challenge my sanity. I'll feel lousy and out of shape. I'll reduce my training, and have extra hours each day, as if time itself were slowing down. Then I'll idle in doubt, anxiety, and temptation to do more.
It will peak in Penticton when I see the chiselled bodies of disciplined training. The figures fast and aero on machines of carbon. Runners fleet of foot, an effortless display of fitness. Like Hubble, I view the pure Universe of Ironman, seeing images of beauty and awe. "Starstuff pondering the stars" (Carl Sagan).
As a species we're on the shores of the Cosmic ocean, just dipping out toes. But we exist, we ponder our existance, and we seek to find answers.
What happens in a Black hole is theoretical; it's secrets revealed only from first hand experience. So too with Ironman Canada. Some secrets you'll discover, others Ironman Canada will keep. What you learn from Ironman Canada, is what you learn about yourself. And to find these answers, you'll have promises to keep, and miles to go, before you sleep.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Ironman Canada run course
Original post Aug. 5, 2009 slowtwitch.com:
One of many special things about IMC is the out and back run course. By mile 5, you're out of town, away from the crowds, little or no shade, with a glimpse of OK Falls in the distance....for me, that is where Ironman slaps you in the face. You have lots of time to think, as the layers are peeled away, exposing your soul. Now it's just you and the course, one step at a time, with miles to go the finish line. It's here where you realize it's been a very long day.
It's also here that you realize Ironman's are hard! The swim is a distant memory. You vaguely recall how good you felt early on the bike. You look forward to the oasis of the aid stations. You see the next mile marker, but can't believe what your watch says your pace is.
Sure there are distractions, like the runners coming toward you, heading back to town. Or you look out across Lake Skaha, the sun's rays sparkling on the surface. Way across the lake you see where you biked down from Yellow Lake, and you wonder how many bikers are still out there. You strike up conversations with other runners and shufflers. Afterall, misery loves company, and no one should suffer alone. You struggle, you're experiencing the lowest of the lows....... And then come the hills.
Ah, but if you can persevere, block out the pain, and keep moving forward..... If you can will yourself to run just 10 steps more, and then another 10.... to get to that tree, or the telephone pole, and now the big crack in the road. Next the walker up ahead. Before you know it, you've reached the top of the hill. It's a big deal!, but your only reward is to keep on keepin' on. You elate in these little victories, until you're able to make it to the turnaround. Now, you tell yourself, with every step, I'm getting that much closer to the finish!
Yes, you are talking to yourself. You're hearing voices, maybe even foaming at the mouth. Who cares. This is Ironman baby! And the voice you hear is that of your Ironwill.
This Ironman has beaten you up, but it hasn't beaten you. This Ironman might leave you broke, but it hasn't broken you.
You're in Penticton British Columbia, and you're doing Ironman Canada, and you WILL finish what you started. So stop feeling sorry for yourself, and haul ass to the finish line.
Finally you're on the outskirts of town, back from the abyss, back to familiar territory. Back to civilization, back to the belief that you're going to make it. The pain of each step is now masked in the joy of what's to come. Groups of spectators are cheering for you, as you reach the cobbles of downtown. Wall to wall people now, you feel energized, renewed, reborn. You hear someone say "Congratulations", and you burst into tears. Yes, it got ugly out there, real ugly, but here you are, just a couple miles from the finish, and you will be an Ironman!
You hear Steve King in the distance, and that's where you want to be. You turn on Winnipeg, the atmosphere is electric. You don't even see the 25 mile marker, it's blocked by the exuberant throng. You know enough to turn left, away from the finish line, away from the crowd, the noise, the excitement. . . back into the dark. . . abyss. . . NO! This is just a reminder that great rewards are earned. You run to the Siccamous, and make the turn in virtual obscurity. But soon, in a moment you'll remember forever, you'll be running on the carpet, between the bleachers, amid the flashes of cameras, with all your senses on overload.....
One of many special things about IMC is the out and back run course. By mile 5, you're out of town, away from the crowds, little or no shade, with a glimpse of OK Falls in the distance....for me, that is where Ironman slaps you in the face. You have lots of time to think, as the layers are peeled away, exposing your soul. Now it's just you and the course, one step at a time, with miles to go the finish line. It's here where you realize it's been a very long day.
It's also here that you realize Ironman's are hard! The swim is a distant memory. You vaguely recall how good you felt early on the bike. You look forward to the oasis of the aid stations. You see the next mile marker, but can't believe what your watch says your pace is.
Sure there are distractions, like the runners coming toward you, heading back to town. Or you look out across Lake Skaha, the sun's rays sparkling on the surface. Way across the lake you see where you biked down from Yellow Lake, and you wonder how many bikers are still out there. You strike up conversations with other runners and shufflers. Afterall, misery loves company, and no one should suffer alone. You struggle, you're experiencing the lowest of the lows....... And then come the hills.
Ah, but if you can persevere, block out the pain, and keep moving forward..... If you can will yourself to run just 10 steps more, and then another 10.... to get to that tree, or the telephone pole, and now the big crack in the road. Next the walker up ahead. Before you know it, you've reached the top of the hill. It's a big deal!, but your only reward is to keep on keepin' on. You elate in these little victories, until you're able to make it to the turnaround. Now, you tell yourself, with every step, I'm getting that much closer to the finish!
Yes, you are talking to yourself. You're hearing voices, maybe even foaming at the mouth. Who cares. This is Ironman baby! And the voice you hear is that of your Ironwill.
This Ironman has beaten you up, but it hasn't beaten you. This Ironman might leave you broke, but it hasn't broken you.
You're in Penticton British Columbia, and you're doing Ironman Canada, and you WILL finish what you started. So stop feeling sorry for yourself, and haul ass to the finish line.
Finally you're on the outskirts of town, back from the abyss, back to familiar territory. Back to civilization, back to the belief that you're going to make it. The pain of each step is now masked in the joy of what's to come. Groups of spectators are cheering for you, as you reach the cobbles of downtown. Wall to wall people now, you feel energized, renewed, reborn. You hear someone say "Congratulations", and you burst into tears. Yes, it got ugly out there, real ugly, but here you are, just a couple miles from the finish, and you will be an Ironman!
You hear Steve King in the distance, and that's where you want to be. You turn on Winnipeg, the atmosphere is electric. You don't even see the 25 mile marker, it's blocked by the exuberant throng. You know enough to turn left, away from the finish line, away from the crowd, the noise, the excitement. . . back into the dark. . . abyss. . . NO! This is just a reminder that great rewards are earned. You run to the Siccamous, and make the turn in virtual obscurity. But soon, in a moment you'll remember forever, you'll be running on the carpet, between the bleachers, amid the flashes of cameras, with all your senses on overload.....
The edge of forever
Spring is the season of hope. Nature begins anew, and we too long for a rebirth. A do over. It's a glorious time when anything and everything is possible. Grand thoughts scheme in our brains. This is the year I .... Climb that mountain, run that marathon, break that record, etc.
But aren't we supposed to act our age? The embodiment of Spring is renewal. A forward looking attitude to Life, to the unknown, to the undiscovered country. This is not for people my age, who should reflect backward, in the safe (and often inflated) reminisces of past glories, right?
Spring is a time to embrace Life! To bleed to know you're alive. To not go gentle into that good night! To break free from the doldrums of mediocrity. Oh me! Oh Life! To let the World know "I was here"! That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
As I lace up my shoes for another Season, I am thankful that Life is still giving me more things than it takes away. I'm excited for what lies ahead. Until my Springs are taken away, I stand at the edge of forever, anxious to take my next step...
But aren't we supposed to act our age? The embodiment of Spring is renewal. A forward looking attitude to Life, to the unknown, to the undiscovered country. This is not for people my age, who should reflect backward, in the safe (and often inflated) reminisces of past glories, right?
Spring is a time to embrace Life! To bleed to know you're alive. To not go gentle into that good night! To break free from the doldrums of mediocrity. Oh me! Oh Life! To let the World know "I was here"! That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
As I lace up my shoes for another Season, I am thankful that Life is still giving me more things than it takes away. I'm excited for what lies ahead. Until my Springs are taken away, I stand at the edge of forever, anxious to take my next step...
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