Shit Happens

A lot on my mind lately.

"Shit happens"   But I need to remind myself that there is an important nuance to this phrase.  Shit Happens is different than "This shit always happens to me?"   There is a level of acceptance with the the first one.  I'm thinking of this after catching a passing interview on NPR last weekend that was really well timed.  There was an interview discussing the perception of pain in subjects who were receiving a shock.  

Each patient received 3 shocks.  A three shocks were of the same intensity - but the people did not know that.  All they were told is that they were either receiving a shock 'from the wall' or 'from a person pressing a button'.  Interesting enough, those in the group who received that shock from the wall interpreted each successive shock as less painful. Classic habituation to the stimulus.

However, those who thought there was a person responsible for the shock they received rated each successive shock as MORE painful.  Same level of shock for all conditions.  I find this interesting.  My interpretation is that there is a level of feeling victimized which alters perception.  My conclusion.  In situations in which we are not in control, it is better to accept what is happening rather than feel victimized.  

With that in mind I through my hands up and accept that I am powerless. I cannot control everything in my life.  I must admit that this mentality has helped me lately. There are things that I can control, but I need to realize how limited that is.  I can control what I do, I can control who I see, I can control how I feel (most of the time). 

To anyone reading this (I know I have a limited audience), what I am alluding to is my control over the health of my parents.  My father has been struggling greatly with Parkinson's Disease.  Over the past month he has gone from functional to a level where he cannot care for himself.  It is incredibly difficult for me to observe.  He was and is the strongest person I know.  The man who knows how to fix anything, could talk to anyone, cares for everyone.  He's a humble man with a gigantic heart.  He is strong, he is funny, he is soft-spoken.  He is the man whose image I can only hope to honor.  He is my motivation to be a better person. 

And while my concern is certainly with him, I really need to care for my mother as well.  She is the one in the trenches.  She has been by his side for 50+ years.  She often gets overlooked and taken for granted like many mothers.  She has her own struggles with arthritis and diabetes.  But she too is strong.  So strong that we take it for granted.  In a family with outspoken daughters and soft-spoken sons, my mother has taken her share of grief from her children.

My mom is the hardest working person I know.  (I find it eerily Freudian that the only person I know with a work ethic near hers is my wife)  She worked multiple jobs, long hours.  She raised 5 children while she obtained her Masters degree in counseling.  She worked as an addictions counselor and family therapist.  But she never had just one job.  She'd work for Kohl so that she'd be able to get discounts on clothes to get us for Christmas,  she had side jobs with Avon and Pampered Chef.  She never asked for credit, she just plugged away.  She listened to everyone's problems all day, then came home to care for us.

Part of my ability to accept everything occurring now is knowledge of how truly blessed I have been to have such amazing parents.  I fully accept that I am a both a momma's boy and the apple of my dad's eye.  I've had a special relationship with both - and I'm not sure that is normal.  My parents had me later in life and were well broken in. They exposed me to tons of amazing experiences, where able to provide for me (spoil me rotten).  I never questioned that they had my best interests in mind.  To me they were always a hybrid of parents and grand-parents.

So what can I do to help them.  I'll do my best.  First off, I need to hold strong to the concept that I am not a victim here.  I am not able to help if I can't be strong for them.  It's my turn to give back - not because I owe them, but because they deserve help.

http://youtu.be/hhPzTKps0g0

I'm a bad blogger.  I didn't even write a post for Ironman Canada?  Bummer.  I guess I've been so busy and the event was memorable enough that I'm safely excused.

Update on the last year since I've posted.  Moved from Vancouver to Madison.  Gave up the hectic Sports Junkies bikes/skis/consignment gig for an opportunity of a lifetime to coach with SBR Coaching.

While retail was hectic, it hasn't been much easier to get in workouts.  I REALLY enjoy coaching.  So now, despite being surrounded by computrainers, treadmills, kettlebells, trx's, amazing bike roads and warm lakes, I have been fitting in fewer workouts.  How? Well, I really like my job.  I catch myself doing work rather than wanting to 'skip out' and get in workouts.

There is a theory that all the great Tour de France winners come from unhappy and/or abusive pasts.  These are the hardmen of the world with chips on there shoulders, something to prove every day.  Insecurity is a very powerful motivator. I've been there - but I'm not there now.  Right now I'm rather content with where I am as an athlete.  I feel like I've proven that I can do well over any distance.  I know I could do better, but I also know what I'd need to do to do better.

I have worked very hard in the past to earn the times that I have posted.  I've nailed nutrition, paced well and gotten the most out of my body for nearly every race I've done.  My biggest opportunity for improvement continues to be my running.  There won't be any magical breakthroughs this season there.  My running has been and will continue to improve steadily each year - if I'm patient.

My aggressive goal for the year was to improve my ironman run split to reach the 3:30-3:40 range.  I had the fitness for it last year at Penticton, but 95 degree heat  required that I moderate my pace.  I was set up to go for it this year, but a severe ankle sprain in February probably eliminated that chance.  If I were to have gone for it (3:30) this year, I would have needed to have hit the run training hard 6-9 months out.  With a sprained ankle which while finally pain free (it still swells post workout) I am realistically 4 months behind.  Reality is that this year's run goal is just to hold onto the form that I had from previous years.  Sort of a bummer, but there's no shame in a 4:20 ironman marathon.  Don't get me wrong that I'm calling it quits on trying to go faster, I'm just being honest with myself.

These sound like sandbagger excuses, but I know my body.  There are reasons why I will do well and reason's why I know I could do better.  Like I said, I really like my job.  Coaching and helping other's figure out to get faster makes me happy.  I've gladly shifted this season's focus from me, to the athletes I work with.  I am content with that shift in balance.  Triathletes are known to be a bit selfish with their time - it's almost required if you want to get the most out of your racing.  If your priority is on 'you' getting faster, one must realize that making 'you' your priority is requisite.

Pressure.  One of my greater concerns as a coach starting out is that I'm an unknown.  I haven't been in Madison for the past couple of years and while the tri-scene is very dynamic, many people simply don't know who I am.  If I were an athlete looking for a coach the difficulty with the decision is understandable.  Athletes want the best out of their performance, and they need coaches that can guide them there. But how do you choose a coach?  Most of it is word of mouth.  It's difficult to choose someone who you might not have heard of.  Now in the triathlon business how do you hear about people?  And I'm just being honest here, most people aren't looking in the yellow pages - they are looking at race results.[topic for future discussion, my thoughts on being fast as a requirement for being a good coach].

My placement in the results of a race should not be used as a quantifier for my skill as a coach. Coaching and training can pull in separate directions when it comes to time management.  But here is the thing, people who NEED coaching often don't understand the difference.  What I want anyone who sees my results to understand is that it represents the path that I have followed.   If anyone is going to judge me from my results, look at all of them.  If you look at them and notice how I have improved steadily every year.  I have finished every race I've entered [future discussion topic - hint: there is an appropriate time to call it quits].  I have not had mechanical or physical breakdowns - great, now I'm due.. knocking on wood.

I have not been fast from the beginning.  When I started I was slow and out-of-shape.  But I have progressed.  I know how painful it can be and challenging it is to 'race' at the back and middle of the pack.  It can hurt just as much as leading a race, but for longer.  I've gotten to where I am now because I like that 'hurt'.  That hurt is part of my passion for the sport.  The hurt is what makes it special.

On the topic of hurt.  This weekend is a great opportunity - and the reason for this rant.  Verona Triterium is tomorrow.  I'll be working to help set up the course today.  I know this course well, well enough to understand that I am not ready to take on the Olympic distance course.  I will be racing the Sprint.  I will save the Olympic for next year when I can have a better pre-season training geared specifically for it.

Tomorrow is my new debut.  I will be racing.  And while this is a low priority race as far as my season, I feel all the pressure to treat race day with respect.  It's been difficult to be surrounded by races every weekend and not be racing myself.  Here is my chance.  Judge me if you want - but I'm doing it for me.

6 weeks out.

Just returned from a restorative trip out to B.C. - Alberta border. We believe that the actual border is defined by the continental divide; so as one could expect there was some elevation. The Honda (ultra) Fit handled the trip with Kim's Daphne and my Betty upon the rear Saris rack. Camping in bear country so the dogs were at home with our apartment sitting friend Brittany.

The previous few weeks have seen a steady dose of volume. Last weekend was our course recon of Pentincton. My legs were ready for a slight decrease in intensity this week. Our trip was inspired to join up with our friend Sara and a few others; as they were traveling to the western mountains. Her friends were inexperienced bikers - providing a wonderful excuse to have to hold back on the ride we had planned.

On Friday we braved the sporadic mountain weather. Neglecting to factor in the base elevation at which our route began - I found myself a bit underdressed for the occasion. Going slow was nice and easy, but did little to warm my bare legs and hands in the wet 50 degree weather.

After a slow start featuring some highway riding to the steadily climbing "Icefields Parkway". (In retrospect - it should have been more obvious to pack warmer clothes). Nice easy spinning for the first 20k, up until the two slower friends turned around - eventually we picked up the pace in hopes of warming up. The increase in tempo left us with the realization that we must be at a decent elevation. After about 40k and a few spectacular views of the cloudy aquamarine glacier fed lakes, at a potty break for a hiking trailhead, I learned that our elevation was 1900 meters. That's a far bit over a mile high.

Eventually our elevation topped out at about 2100m. Kim's garmin data should be interesting. At 45km point, the road descended 400 meters at a 4-6% grade. On an out/back route planned - what went down, must go up to get home. Finally at 55km I was able to convince the group that instead of the arbitrary (Ironman) distance of 112 miles, we could instead do a metric conversion of the distance and turn around at 56km's instead. The heavy rain in the distance we were traveling supported by logic.

On the climb back up I stayed back with Sara to get her up her first official mountain climb. She managed quite well. A quick banana bread break at the top and then we were back to a mostly downhill return trip. Descending may be faster - but when your doing it for more than an hour with bare wet hands, it is cold. The sun peaked out for short moments just to tease us. Kim tried to take a few shifts out front to return the favor of the warm draft I had been providing her. To be fair, I didn't get much of a draft off of her, but I do see why the boys seem to enjoy the view so much. Yeah, that's my babe.

With 10 km to go and the Icefields Parkway about to end - we suddenly found ourselves next to a line of stopped traffic. A few ambulances ahead at a curve in the road. The road was blocked off by a police cruiser. 45 minutes of sitting in the rain while medivac came to rush what we guessed to be an injured female motorcyclist to the hospital in Calgary. Not exactly a scene I'd care to have front row seats to again. Eventually we returned to camp, stoked a fire, ate bratwurst, cookie dough and a couple of beers.

This morning we arose to sunnier weather. Our friends had left early to white-water raft. Kim and I enjoyed a leisure breakfast of camp-style bacon, eggs, and coffee from the perc. We checked out an hour late upon deciding to hike instead of run. We found a nice 5k climb where we gained a good 500 meters. Map estimation round-trip 3 hour hike, done in crocs in half the time. Rather cool hike, but we had to hurry to hit the road for 10 hours of driving. We made it home by 11pm - but I'm still awake when I should be in bed.

My goals need to be revisited to include more sleep.

Half-way there.

So here I am with tired legs, a full belly and an under-exercised dog. (Bella is staring me down and tossing a bouncy ball on my feet in hopes that I will stuff it with treats). She gives me a look of jealously and accusation - all weekend around bikes, runners and beeping garmins. But due to a rather standard NO DOGS on a race course policy - she has not been running all weekend. Double bummer, her people are too tired to run today.

In the meanwhile, my legs are up and my butt is planted. Kim and I have discussed our results from the weekend. I had a hard time and am more tired than usual. I also had to wake up early and work on my feet all day. I've always preferred Saturday races.

This weekend's race was the Victoria 1/2 Iron - technically the bike and run distances were shorter than the standard. No respect for 70.3 miles in the land of metres. What the course lacked in distance it make up for in terrain. I misinterpreted the words 'rolling hills' to mean 'no hills'. But I counted at least 3 hills on each of the two laps of the bike. Enough hills to negate my power advantage and tip the scales in favor of the higher watts/kg crowd. Besides hills the bike course featured ocean views, distant snow-capped mountains, islands, bald eagles and even a pair of 6 point deer - one of which can run approximately the same speed as I can bike and just about as high as I am tall on my bike (lucky me). Next year I will be adding an automotive deer whistle to Mr. Brownstone (my bike) - the stupid thing came within 6 feet of me traveling 40 kph. (25 mph).

Enough about the bike course itself, onto my race report.

I don't care for events that force bikes to be checked in the day before. Huge hassle. Just a scam to get people to visit the race sponsor tents. I was more in the mood to relax away from the stressed out people. Speaking of stressed out people - I was abandoned at the race site for a couple hours while Kim raced around trying to resolve a leak in her rear tubular race wheel. As a note, 25mL of a product called Doc Blue got her through the race.

Once the transition area stress was resolved it was off to eat and relax at Victoria's house with our friend Christine and fellow racer Kellen. Kellen possesses what I would consider a rather common trait among triathletes. He is neurotic - not over the top by any means, but he had a 40L tuperware container of triathlon specific goodies to lug around and still managed to need to visit a bike shop to get inner tubes for his bike (his logic was sound - it's much better to use long stemmed race tubes than short stemmed tubes with valve extenders). We all enjoyed a wonderful spaghetti dinner made by Victoria's mother and then unwound watching Hitchhiker's guide to the galaxy (a wonderfully metaphorical movie for any race weekend). I slept great despite being awakened a few times by Kellen and his wiggling upon his costco thermarest. (I think it's made of the same material as the new Sun Chip bags - if you don't get this reference check google). I was rather low stress about sleeping or not sleeping just so long as I wasn't comfortable and laying still. Yes Kellen, I could hear that clock ticking but my brain analyzed it to be a non-threat and allowed me to tune it out.

Race morning was sun shine and roses. I left my dad a message to wish him a happy father's day back home while we were driving to the race site. Weather was good. Cool (not cold) and overcast - perfect race weather for a man my size. I tend to overheat running in the heat. As I readied my transition area my phone range. Seeing as the front screen on my crap phone is busted I can ID the caller but answer assuming to hear my dad's voice - sadly it was about the furthest thing from what I wanted to hear. My sister called me and in worried tones to explain that my father had checked himself into a hospital due to not feeling well. A continuation of a 20 year battle with heart disease and now a few more confounding issues. He has since been released and news is positive. My entire focus for the day had changed. I took a walk away from the race, sat and looked at the lake and mountains. We have been through this issue often in my family - this is reality that I've been forced to accept since the 5th grade. I worked to clear my head and remain calm - my heart was with him the entire day (and remains there with him). I sat back, took in the atmosphere and used my fear and concern to be motivation. He'd want me to do well - some day I'll grow old and unable to do such things, I'll enjoy it while I can. Bad news is no reason to half-ass the task at hand. If anything, the race was a perfect thing to occupy my focus while I digested and put life into perspective.

Often when I swim I'm grateful for having learned while young. My form is not great and I'm above average at best, but the years of competitive swimming as a kid are all thanks to the man that drove me to the bulk of my practices. Swimming will always relax me and bring thoughts of my happy childhood. Our family has always enjoyed the water. Boats and L&R Sport Marine dominate my childhood memories. Swimming with a pack of 400 people into flat water is exhilarating. A rustle of action at the start, I didn't hear a countdown and still hadn't put my goggles on. I was positioned in about the 2 or 3 rows back and had to fight through white-water for the first 100 meters in order to find enough space. My goggles fogged so I blindly followed feet and bubbles for the next 300 yards until the race spaced out enough for me to rinse my lenses clear - no big deal. I latched onto a pair of feet the the next 1500 meters. Swimming isn't a huge priority over the longer distances. To get out of the water in 30 minutes was exactly where I'd hope to be the the training that I had done.

Transition went smoothly, I moved up from 44th to 33rd. I heard Andrew Powell's name called out next to mine while in transition. We met up briefly on the bike course. After I misjudged the sharp right-hander coming out of the park he passed me and remained 100 meters ahead for the remainder of the first loop. He looked steady (although I noticed a slight wag in his spine with each pedal stroke). There is more speed to gained by him if he can lock down his core a bit better - just my opinion. On the second loop I completely detached from the small group with Andrew. I was alone for long stretched of time with nothing but a clock (no speed devices) to remind me when to take in calories. I struggled with the climbs more than anticipated - a good reminder for me to do more high intensity work before Ironman Canada. I had to pee soooo bad during the second lap. Some people pee themselves (intentionally) while biking - I would have if I had the ability - I don't. Hard to bike fast on bumpy roads with an overfilled bladder. Other bike course notes - yes I almost hit a deer. I also had a lid fly off my exchange bottle and dumped it all over my bars - again no big deal, just note worthy at the time. I got cut off by a car in a round about. Driver got nervous and pulled over to the right, right in my way. That's when I lost contact with Andrew and never saw him again.

Came off the bike in 15th and left transition in 13th. I ran into the beautiful trails, found a private tree and peed for well over a minute. Worlds longest pee. Great White North worthy.

The run course was flat, shaded and consisted of two 10km loops around a lack. The path was mostly organic and soft - roots were well marked. Little ups and downs, but nothing to really slow my momentum. Very entertaining trail. Little zigs and zags, fun lines to choose. I passed a few families out to walk the trail or exercise their dog on father's day. Wished a few older gentlemen a good one. Lap one felt rather good, no pacing devices , just RPE (relative perceived exertion). A clock could only have told me bad news - I was running as fast as possible, knowing just how fast I am running doesn't necessarily help. I took a look at the overall race clock at the finish line after my first lap, it read 3:45. I briefly calculated that I ran about 45 minutes for my first lap, which was dead on my goal pace - in reality I ran a 47 (but don't forget that time wasted peeing). I had only been passed by two men. The second lap started well but I started to get beginnings of a side-stick which laid me up during last month's American Triple-T. I tried tighten my race belt around my waist in hopes of preventing it from getting worse. I couldn't get it very tight but I think it helped. Eventually at about 16km fatigue started to set into my legs - nothing overwhelming, just fatigue. On the penultimate aid station if made the poor decision of water over sports-drink and forgot to grab a gel. My brain was starting to get a bit foggy, focusing became more difficult, holding my form became more difficult. I was beginning to run out of calories. 15 minutes from the finish line I new I would be able to make there however I suffered more than I should have. On the final aid station I begged for gatorade and was handed a great cup with a gatorade emblem, but it again only contained water. Why didn't I grab a gel? I just needed some sugar to clear my mind and carry me home. Oh well - deal with it. I took a page out of my buddy Carl's book and started to count to 20 over and over again with each strike of my right foot. The racers behind me continued to close in as they usually do to me (not as many as races past). It's difficult to accept being passed and still keep focusing on moving faster. It's difficult to be on that racer's edge and have a positive mid-set. Passing people is much more fun. My head began to drift forward and my eyes focused more on the foreground than they had been before. No scenery for me during this bit of suffering. Suffering is a part of racing. Gut through it, get there and then it's all over. My second lap must have been faster than the first at about 45 minutes. Considering my recent 10k PR is 43:30, I'm rather happy with the result.

At the finish line the clock read 4:31 and in respect to my father, I patted my right hand across my heart at I crossed the line. The finish-line volunteers were quick to realize that I had pushed hard to the end - I believe 3 or more stood by on the ready to stabilize me for fear that I may topple. I felt fine physically, but my still racing heart combined with a much greater than usual emotional swing (which I credit to low blood-sugar) and a totally unexpected sound of a 70 year old man with a soothing voice, I started to break down. I'm never really lost control of my emotions in that way before, but I couldn't hold it together, not that day. I settled down, laid down in the lake and watched the rest of my friends finish.

It was good to relax for the rest of the afternoon. I heard an update from my family than my dad would be release that evening and that they were able to visit him. I wish I could have been there - because truly he has been there for me every time I've needed him. He always will be.

Begin 2nd week of dedication

Improvement in diet, attitude, productivity and physical health - of the knees and forefeet specifically. I got every workout in last week. Celebrated with dinner out at The Red Onion. Burgers with fresh fixin's plus cheese and avocado - Chilli fries as an app; could have done without. Some of this overlaps with previous itinerary; but a refresher is welcome while the pattern has not yet become habit.

Biked a speed workout last night (Friday evening) 7x 20 second high intensity intervals with 40 sec recovery. Knees a bit tight on the ride home in the cold & wet. Saturday biked the very flat Iona 10km TT with a strong headwind on the return leg - 15:23 result and no knee pain. Rode Richmond loop- this evening I feel some right forefoot clicking & sensitivity. Cold feet seems to be a contributing factor - as do stiff shoes (ski boots, carbon soled cycling shoes).

Following today's post long ride nap, I had 2 cups of coffee. I think it gave me the sweats - and I definitely felt the caffeine. Did an evening recovery run to Southland's soccer field. Logged 25 minutes of mushy running in my neoprene surf booties. Feet felt great - surface was very soft.

Now begins another week. Tomorrow entails a 5:45am wake-up (losing an hour due to Daylights Saving Time). Run 50 minutes. Work. Kim's performance at church. Ride 1:15.

Monday: Morning Swim 8 x 100 main set. Aim to keep 100's under 1:30. Work. Bike 1:15

Tuesday: 6:15am wake-up. Run 30 minutes (6x 20sec strides). Work. Evening swim 11 x 100 main set. Goal 1:40 to 1:20 descending.

Wednesday: [no work] Morning long run 55 minutes. Nap. Swim 1500 base. (goal 23:45 - 1:35/100m). Shop for produce.

Thursday: First REST. Long day of working.

Friday [no work] Morning swim 6x 150 [50 build/25 descend] + kick set. Leave for Bellingham to XC Ski with Christi, Jon & Sarah.

Saturday [no work] Plan was ride 1:15 and run 20. Skiing should suffice.

Accountability

My life is flexible. I like to do a lot of stuff. You'd be surprised what variety of stuff my wife, Kim and I can get into in a week. But I need to instill a certain amount of structure into my week. And I can't structure a week without first structuring my days.

So here I am; a flexible guy in need of structure. Here is my plan for the next 9 days.


Tomorrow: Wake up early to swim and make it bake in time for bacon with Kim. Wake up at 6, back from the pool by 7:15, out the door 7:50. Ride to work. Work. Ride home. Run 45 minutes. Eat. Feet up.

Wednesday: Swim in the morning. Run 80 minutes in the evening.

Thursday: Normally a rest day due to working a long shift, but Monday's snowboarding caused me to miss a swim and a bike. Make-up the swim only.

Friday: No work today. Swim in the morning. 4th consecutive swim - congrats, spring for breakfast. (will work for food) Friday night fights; cycling power workout 7x 20s sprints.

Saturday: Ride 3 hours. Run easy 30 minutes.

Sunday: Run 50 minutes in the morning. Work. Bike 75 minutes in the evening - it's DAYLIGHT SAVING TIME, enjoy the extra evening sun.

Monday: Morning swim - welcome back. Work. Evening 75 minute ride.

Tuesday: Morning swim. Work. Evening 50 minute run.

Wednesday: Morning swim. Work. Run 55 minutes.

Thursday: REST finally after 9 days on.

Imperial Unit

5280 feet.

63,360 inches.

8 furlongs.

4 laps.

1 mile.

The Mile.

There is a deep connection to the word mile. The word represents a standard. Mile high. Mileage. If you give and inch, you give a mile. Going the extra mile. Walk a mile in a man's shoes. The trial of miles and miles of trials. The sound of this word bristles the neck hairs of those who run. And while all runners log miles; not all runners are brave enough to tow the line and to RACE THE MILE.

The mile conjures up my memories of high school gym class requirements or a minimum fitness test for high school soccer. (High school is Grade 9-12 to those of us in the good old US of A). And while I can't speak for any Canadians, I can let you know the dread that crosses the minds of kids in the states when they are asked to run the mile for gym class. Perhaps today's kids are soft... some of them certainly look quite squishy these days. But the day of the mile probably elicits more doctors notes and excuses for non-participation than any other day - with the possible exception of Opening Day for Major League Baseball.

I remember training for my first mile. I had my dad drive his car around the park road at the park near my house. I wasn't much of a trained runner back then - in fact I knew nothing of training. But I remember feeling an excitement about timing myself for the distance. I wanted to race a mile, so I practiced by racing a mile. It was yet to cross my mind that running further than a mile would be good training. And when I performed for my first actual race I still remember my time. Fast forward 15 years to 2009 and I would race my next mile as part of last year's UBC race series, it wasn't until last year's race that I would finally improve upon my first mile. It was what I call, a PR (personal record - aka personal best).

Now, thanks to the 2010 edition of the UBCTC Fall Race Series I have returned to test myself against the very same mile. To follow is my recollection of the events as they unfolded...

To me, my race was against myself. Sure I was hoping to pick-off a runner or two who had finished ahead of me last year - but deep down this was between ME (now) and ME (then). In order to improve on last years race I needed to run a smarter race. I had been training differently between the two years. Last year I had more volume and was in the midst of recreating myself as a run - this year my training was lighter in volume but richer in quality. I have been working on my form and efficiency - I've continued to strengthening my core, focused on turnover and keeping my contact time with the ground to a minimum.

First item to running a smarter race was not going out too fast on the first lap. Last year I went out too fast and surely paid the price later in the race. This year I wanted to keep all my laps within 5 seconds of each other. I've found that mentally running through my game plan helps me to execute a better performance.

Here was my plan for execution of a PR:
Lap 1 Get out clean, breath and remain relaxed.
Lap 2 settle into my pace and be as efficient as possible.
Lap 3, Don't get distracted. Now is not the time for weakness.
Lap 4. Accelerate through the corners and push like hell.

I also had specific time goals for each lap. In addition to the goal of following my plan above, I also like to have some specific goals. I could write a whole blog on goal setting, but for now I will share that in my experience, setting multiple levels of goals can be helpful. My time goals were a bit loftier - but I'm not afraid to set a goal that I can't quite reach.

Now if anyone actually remembers the actual events of the race - more power to them. To me the race was a blur. I focused solely on myself for each step and did fairly well. I set a PR and reeled in one runner who had beat me before. But I did not reach my time goal and I got out-kicked in the finishing straight by 2 runners.

Nothing motivates me more than being beat by an honest effort. I am very lucky to have clawed my way up in the race where I have several competitors. I will be motivated for next year's mile and will train to now beat this year's time and perhaps out-kick a few more runners.



Now for those who have read this so far here I will attempt to start some discussion. My hope is that through the 'Comments' section, we can re-create the events of the race by each personal account.

- This year's event featured a Battle of the Sexes. The Men were held to a 60 second handicap start. The grand prize was a 3 point bonus for the first racer (man or woman) to the finish line. I was on the opposite side of the track when the finish line was crossed, but I believe that John claimed the prize for the Men. The women's winner on the night, Kaley was caught just before the line. Go Men!

- Barry has some competition for the official position of 'Super-fast runner man'. An honorary title.

-Winston is learning to run a steadier pace - finally Harmin the Garmin is happy. According to Kellen's Garmin, he ran a spiral route out into the Georgia Straight. These two will battle again in the future.

- I, Kory finally caught Liam. Liam discounted the achievement by stating that he was fat and out of shape. (I'll still take it).

- Victoria ran herself back to physio. Were have I seen this before? She's tough as nails, but also as smart as them. Will her hamstrings gain the strength needed to counter-balance her ever increasing quad strength? Or will she continue to race until the wheels fall off? Stay tuned.

- John set a new tri-club record, one that I predict will stand for a long time.

- President Kim took almost 20 seconds off of last year's time.

- Matt beat Vince. Vince still blames his concussion.