So hey, about
that Ironman… Yeah, I did it. And there will
be a race report. But not today. As I write this, I’m up in Penticton, on the
eve of
Challenge Penticton. Yeah, like the very same race that was
my first iron distance race last year. Only I’m not racing it this year. The Hub is. It’s
his first real triathlon and he’s doing the Half distance. I’ve been winging it
as his coach and this weekend I’m faking it as a deferential, supportive type
instead of my usual high maintenance diva self. I’m very good at the latter.
The other? Well…
Anyway. So I’m not racing the Challenge this year. I’ve actually
taken August “off” – which was supposed to mean taking a break from structured
training and just doing what I wanted. That’s not quite how it’s worked out …but
more on that in another post. Since the month has been low key, and I’m feeling
left out not being able to race with
the rest of the free world my triathlete
friends, I decided to make the most of having to sit out, and take advantage of
some of the
Festival events that I wouldn’t ordinarily get to do. Like a 5K fun
run and the
Ogopogo Swim Race. I know. Swimming.
Thursday, we rolled into smoky Penticton a couple of hours
before the Feed the Valley 5K Fun Run. Time to unload the van, change, and then
stroll down to The Peach. We watched the kiddies 1K fun run, while trying to
figure out who’s-who among the pros handing out medals.
Even though it was a “fun run”, no bibs, no timing chips,
and I wasn’t looking for anything particular from this race… it was +30
degrees, smoky, I’d been sitting in a car for 5 hours, and this was my month
off… I was still nervously sizing up the “competition” and worrying with this
small field, it was not out of the realm of possibility that I would be last.
The route was a two loop out & back along Lakeshore, running right past our
hotel 4 times. I told my family that if I was last, I was ducking into our
hotel on the way back from the second loop. Screw the finish line.
And then we were off. As I approached the first turnaround,
Jeff Symonds was making his way back, leading a pack of speedy peeps, all of
them looking comfortable. There weren’t a ton of people ahead of me, and once I
made the turn and was on my way back, I saw that there were plenty behind me.
Good. I’d gone out a little too fast, and my pace was slowing a bit, it was hot
and I felt the smoky air stinging the back of my throat. At the turn to start
the second loop, I stopped to grab water – something I wouldn’t ordinarily do
in a 5K - walking a few seconds to gulp it down, and then off for loop number
2.
This time, well before I reached the turnaround on the 2nd
loop, Jeff Symonds was running by. All by himself now, and running effortlessly
with none of his trademark Ugly, he offered some words of encouragement as he
ran by.
My 5K PB is 25:11. Set January of this year at the Athletes
in Kind New Year’s Day Generation Run. I didn’t expect to beat it, and told my
family as much as we were walking to the start. My daughter asked how long it
would take me… My PB is 25:11. I won’t beat that but it’ll be something under
30 minutes. She was surprised – and impressed – that I could run 5K in under 30
minutes. Yeah, that used to impress me too. So I ran in to the finish at 24:54.
My daughter ran over and said “Mom, you PB’d!” I knew I wasn’t running PB-pace –
I’d been checking pace from time to time and watching it creep slowly up. I
glanced down at my Garmin when she said that, seeing a 4.76, and dismissed her
congrats… “Yeah, but the course was short.”
“Don’t DO that!” she replied.
Oh, in the days before Garmin, we would have been none the
wiser, taking that PB at face value and celebrating it. But I don’t know… is a
PB still a PB, even when the course is short?
We waited a while at the finish, then started walking back
to the hotel since we had family waiting on us for dinner. The final two
runners were still making their way back and as we neared them on course, I
would stop, put my shoes down, clap and cheer. Feeling inspired and impressed
by these women. I’m not sure why the idea of being last feels embarrassing or shameful
when it’s me, but a mark of determination, spirit, and triumph when it’s
someone else. When the final runner passed by, a bike volunteer who’d ridden
out to check on her told her she had some friends coming out to run her in. I
turned to see pros Jeff Symonds and Nathan Killam jogging out to finish with
her. Like the final finisher in an Ironman, there’s a lot of support for the
last one in. No, last was not a bad place to be.
My big brave move had been wearing a top that exposed a bit
of midriff. A counter to some self-esteem bashing “picked for you” pins that
Pinterest had been taunting me with. All bones, flat stomachs, and thigh gaps.
I was trying to embrace strong, fit, and powerful and be a better role model
for my girly. But mostly it just made me hate all the race pictures. And then
the next morning, when I went for a short swim, I ended up in a conversation
with a teeny-tiny super-fit and lovely woman, also heading in for a swim. She’d
won her age group at IMC in a previous year. She’d been to Kona. And she
described it as terrible because the Island shuts down and is overrun by
triathletes… all these teeny-tiny super-fit women. Hmmm. Are any of us
comfortable in our skin?
Today was the Ogopogo swim race. Three distances to choose
from: 500m, 1K or 2K. 500m hardly seemed like struggling in to the wet suit,
and 2K seemed like work, so I’d signed up for the 1K and was actually looking
forward to it. I’ve done very little swimming since IMC… this will be fun I
thought.
Walking to the Peach, I watched the lake churning in the
wind, listened to the waves crashing on shore. Gross. I texted my friend Jenn
who was swimming the 2K: I’m not sure I’m going to swim. I told her the water
was rough, and this was supposed to be fun. So drop down to the 1K she said.
Ha.
After some expert bodymarking, I wriggled into my wetsuit
(in its last season I’m afraid), and waited for the start. Two 500m loops,
swimming mostly across the waves… darn it. At the start, I struggled to get my
breathing right. And I don’t think it was the slightly choppy lake as much as
it was the absence of time spent in any lake this last month, but it was a
rough start. I was aware that pretty much everyone was swimming away from me,
leaving me thrashing about pretty much on my own. I had a “yeah, what else is
new” feeling, but other than that, didn’t really care. I knew that with a bunch
of people doing the 2K, it’s not like I’d be emerging 20 minutes after everyone
was done. So I just settled in and swam, taking a moment at one point to
acknowledge that it was fortunate that I was a bilateral breather and could
choose which side to breathe on given the rough water.
I finished in 26:11,
with a 2:19/100m pace. Not fast by any standard but 1 second faster than any of
my previous open water swim race paces. Go figure.
I’m glad I didn’t bail.
So, tomorrow I’m doing this thing. It seems kind of crazy, even to me, and especially FOR me because well… who signs up for an ultra swim when they’re not a swimmer? Well, me, it seems. Chalk it up to a chain-reaction of crazy ideas beginning with my 2019 Ultra520K application, followed by a little post-Hyack hot-tub encouragement peer-pressure from super swimmer Ann. And hey, it was so far away, surely I could become a better swimmer by then, right? 
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