racereport

Oliver Half-Ironman: Revel in the challenge /  by Jonas Caruana

Tuc-El-Nuit Lake: what a place to race!

TL;DR

The Oliver Half-Ironman went down on Sunday June 5th, 2022. The course included a 2.0km swim, 89km bike and a 21km run.

Overall, it was a pretty good day out! Rather hilly, very wet bike. Run was solid. Swim remains my biggest area to improve: I’m giving up 10-20 mins of time there. Transitions were slow (6 mins each vs. the usual 1-3 mins) as my hands were cold and not working, and everything was soaking wet from the rain. And I needed to pee like a racehorse in T2. I gave myself the small comfort of fresh, dry socks for the run and that turned out to be a great move. Pumped with how I played the day as it came; kept a strong mental game (even in the water); fuelling + nutrition strategy were on point; good gear choices (road bike with mini aero bars was 👌🏼). Overall a well executed day. I’d say we’re in a good place going into the final three months leading up to Ironman Canada in Penticton.

Goals

The overall theme was about learning versus ‘crushing it’. Of course I wanted to do my best time on the day, but it’s easy to get lost in fighting the clock and then forget about everything else in the process. So here’s what I wanted to focus on.

Can I get through a half-Ironman distance event healthily? It’s been six years since my last half-Ironman and I’ve been working through some persistent right knee issues (again). In January, I was ready to throw the towel in because I couldn’t get on the bike or go for a run without the knee really becoming painful over the course of an effort. Instead, I doubled down and got to work with more and different recovery protocols, and sought out the help of some new body workers (physio, chiro, and RMT). I’ve since been able to ramp up my volume, layer on intensity, and the body’s been able to absorb it well. So largely, this race was about overcoming my fear that something was gonna flare up and I was going to have to hobble my way home or worse, DNF.

Pacing. When you race it’s hard to fight that GOOO! impulse. I often feel like my natural default setting here is that if my heart’s not pounding out of my chest I’m not going hard enough. But the thing with Ironman is that you’re not operating at threshold for 12 hours. Not even close. You’re pretty much Zone 2ing the whole thing, and getting used to that is a thing I wanted to work on in this race.

Is an all liquid fuelling strategy still best for me? Six years ago I used 1st Endurance’s EFS to power me to my best 70.3 result to date. It has the highest electrolyte levels of anything on the market, which works for me because I lose a high amount of salt through sweat. They’ve since made some updates to the product’s chemistry and at some point, you need to test whether it really works for you. And while you can use it in training, it’s never quite the same as a race day trial. No-one wants to crap their pants in their A race!

Does my race kit work? I came to Oliver with some gear that’s tried and true, and some newer stuff that I’d only used a few times but not raced with (e.g. sleeved tri suit, race hat). Again, you can train using your gear but there’s always something unique about a race day test.

Mantras

Forecast for race morning: Rain. Lotsa rain.

Typically when I go into these things I set mantras for each of the swim, bike and run as a thing to repeat in my mind when the going gets tough. You want a simple, positive thought to repeat rather than leave empty space in your mind that negative thoughts can creep into. Mantras usually come to me at some point in the weeks prior to an event, but not this time: my primary goal was simply to test my body at half-Iron distance, and see how it held up.

But then, one of my besties, Dave Mackey, sent me this at 4:51am on race morning:

“Revel in the challenge. When the going gets tough just remember who you are and why you’re out there. For the love of sport. For the challenge. Because you can”.

This really resonated because it was the distillation of a few key things.

“Because you can”. It’s a gift to be able to choose your suffering. Lots of people don’t get that choice: suffering is thrust upon them. Or for any number of reasons, they couldn’t make the choice even if they wanted to (e.g. in the case of physical or mental disability). I get to choose to put myself in these situations of discomfort so that I can find ways to learn and grow as a human. I am so grateful for that opportunity and am determined not to waste it. Every start line represents opportunity (in racing, and in life).

“Remember who you are and why you’re out there”. What’s interesting about endurance sports is that we sign up for these things because we want to challenge ourselves. We actively go looking for the discomfort so that we can have a chance to see that we’re made of tougher stuff, capable of doing things we didn’t think we could. We want to see if we can endure. And then all too often you get into it and when things begin to really hurt you start wishing it to be over. It’s normal – almost reflexive – to pull back from discomfort. You start disengaging; searching for physical or mental escapes to the discomfort you’re in and the distance yet to cover. But that’d be missing the point.

What I’m seeking in these experiences isn’t the kudos from having finished the event but the reckoning with self that only this kind of endurance event can dish out. I came looking for discomfort as an opportunity to learn how to experience myself differently when I encounter discomfort in life.

There’s a moment when you feel discomfort and it’s a classic stimulus→response situation. The beauty of endurance sports is that you get served up those moments second after second, for hours upon hours. And it’s just you vs. yourself out there. What I’m looking for is the opportunity to catch myself at the stimulus – “this hurts” – and to learn to linger there for a while, long enough to create some space so that I can think about, and then choose, my response, rather than reflexively pulling the proverbial rip cord. In that space, I want to make friends with the pain, and appreciate it as a necessary step on the path to getting stronger. Then I want to respond with a positive choice: keep going; “good job”. And then do that over, and over, and over again until the finish line.

That’s why I’m out there.

“Revel in the challenge.” This became the mantra of the day; the four words that tied together all the above into one anchoring statement. When I got to the end of the first lap in the swim I thought: “Enjoy this – it’s going to be a few months before you get to do this again. Don’t wish it away”. Same on the bike. When I got to the turnaround: “You’ll be in T2 before you know it. So enjoy this. It’s your favourite”. And on the run: “Revel in this challenge. You’ve worked all day to get to this point: when you’d like it to be over. This is your chance to be in it and choose different. Don’t miss the whole point of today. Make friends with the discomfort. Choose to continue in the discomfort. Revel in the challenge.”

The race

The Swim: This remains my area of biggest opportunity. Yes, the swim is a small portion of the overall event – but I’m just losing so. much. time. in the swim. The gap between me and the fastest swimmers in Oliver was 18 minutes! All aspects of my swim need work: fitness, form, tactics and open water navigation. What went really well this time around was the head game: no major anxiety aside from a few nerves; I stayed positive the whole time and came out of the water in a good head space. Having that positive mantra really helped keep the brain train on the right track.

The Bike: My favourite. It’s always a big confidence boost, because – having come out of the water relatively late – I then spend the next 2.5 hours passing people. I realized that I was a bit heavy on the power in the first 10km and eased up knowing that this was a 90km ride, not a 40km ride. I was grateful for all the climbing in the first half of the course because it helped generate body heat while we were being hammered with the rain.

Elevation profile for the bike course: no flat sections; if we weren’t going up, we were coming down!

The Run: Perhaps the best part of the day this time around. Historically the run – for me – has been about just hanging on until the end. Not this time. I’ve been running consistently with Mile2Marathon since January and those twice weekly group workouts have really improved my run fitness. I felt strong throughout the run and found my body naturally gravitating toward ~4:45/km pacing which was awesome. The day was starting to heat up Okanagan-style and I made sure I practised using the aid stations like it was a full Ironman: walk through them, take lots of cold fluids + nutrition if needed, keep going. The knee started feeling a bit tight around the seventh kilometre but it was entirely manageable and not a big issue. That built a lot of confidence.

Final times:

  • Swim: 43:41

  • T1: 6:03

  • Bike: 2:38:59

  • T2: 6:05

  • Run: 1:44:42

  • Total: 5:19:30

Kit + gear choices

Equipment won’t win you the day but it can definitely help. Here’s a roundup.

Bike: Scott Foil with mini-aero bars over my tri bike option. Why? Forecast was for rain; roads were unfamiliar; hilly elevation profile with no flat, you were either going up or coming down. Overall, I went with the roadie and I’m certain that was the better choice, because I had more stability and more confidence rolling at speed through wet conditions. Also, I’ve been having some troubles with my left QL (quadratus lumborum) and being able to get out of the saddle and up onto the hoods during the climbs really helped release the lower back and help keep me comfortable.

Keeping the transition gear in the plastic bag was a big win: my runners stayed dry!

Helmet: POC Omne Air Spin. It’s my regular and works great. Probs gonna get an aero helmet for Ironman.

Cycling shoes: Giro Imperial with double Boa closures. This was a change from normal. Typically I use triathlon shoes and have them pre-mounted to my bike, so that I can do the whole flying mount / dismount thing and reduce my transition times. That said, I’m going to use the Imperials in Ironman, I’ve had all my recent bike fits done with them, and they work really well for me, so I’m choosing them over speedier transition times.

Race suit: It was time to try a sleeved race suit and I also wanted something that looked good that wasn’t entirely black. There are surprisingly few options out there: it’s either plain black, or colour / logo barf. I’d like to race and not look like a complete dork! Wyn Republic is a company out of Australia who are making some pretty nice suits, though they are a bit on the expensive side (pricing in US dollars doesn’t help). I snagged a Memorial Day deal and am stoked with my new suit. It fits perfect, has everything I need in terms of fabrics and function, and the design is super rad! When you feel like a boss you race like a boss and it was also pretty fun getting a bunch of comments on course from the crowd to the tune of ‘hey that kit actually looks good’. Post-race, I had one tiny point of chafing on the front of my left hip but otherwise, top marks for the suit and I’ll be rocking this one at Ironman.

Wetsuit: Orca 3.8. Old faithful. I’ve had this one since I started triathlon back in 2014. It’s always fit pretty tight – but for some silly reason, I’ve never actually really checked. So post race, convinced that my wetsuit is indeed too tight, I went and checked the Orca sizing charts. And if things haven’t changed, my suit is indeed, one size too small. Now, it’s entirely possible their fit blocks have changed over the last eight years. But either way, I’ve definitely got my money’s worth out of this suit, and I really want to be comfortable in that Ironman swim, so I’m gonna start looking for a new one.

Run shoes: On Cloudflow. I love these kicks. I’ve trained and raced in all three generations of them and they keep delivering. They’re light, comfy and damn fine lookin’. I love On Running’s aesthetic. I tried the Cloudboom in training (an even more race oriented shoe with a carbon plate) and they gave me blisters and chafing, so I stuck with the Cloudflow. One thing I just didn’t make time to do was set them up with elastic laces, and that cost me time in T2. My hands were so cold coming off the bike, it took me a loooong time just to tie my laces. Will fix that for Ironman.

Run hat: Got me a Ciele trucker hat (“TRKCap SC“). I have a big melon and most of the Ciele caps don’t work for my head. This is a new (bigger) construction and it rocks because it does. And it wicks. And looks rad.

Sunnies: Oakley Sutro Lite with Prizm Low Light lenses. These were a great choice because the bike was super rainy and the sky was dark and overcast. I love the Sutro lenses on the bike because they give you great coverage – kept the rain and wind out of my eyes.

Hacks that worked really well: Putting all my stuff in transition into a plastic shopping bag so that it wouldn’t get soaked in the rain. Being able to put on dry cycling shoes and dry runners was sublime.

Extras: I took a wind vest, merino arm warmers, and two different options of cycling gloves. Despite the rain, I felt like I’d be warm enough to not need the extra bulk on the bike, so took none of these with me on the ride. Indeed, my hands were cold coming off the bike, but my core body temp was good and ultimately, I’m happy with my choices.

Nutrition + fuelling strategy

Pre-swim: One small bottle of EFS, pre-loading the body with electrolytes and carbs.

On the bike: 2x 770mL bottles with 1st Endurance EFS at 7% carbohydrate concentration: 54g total carbs in each bottle. 1x Huma gel (with caffeine) and a splash of water from a bottle grabbed while rolling through an aid station.

1st Endurance salts content vs. other popular products.

On the run: Huma gels at 4k (with caffeine), ~10k (no caffeine) and 17k (no caffeine). Last one was probably a bit late. Had salt chews with me but didn’t take any – that may have been a mistake in a longer event but I got away with it this time. Only one energetic wobble the whole day and that was at 17k. It was probably a bit late to take down that last gel but I did it anyway, just in case. If nothing other than a placebo effect, it worked and I had power through to the finish line.

The event

Pre-race briefing at Tuc-el-Nuit Elementary School.

This triathlon was put on by Dynamic Race Events who are a Canadian owned company and they did a great job. The organizers are friendly and helpful and the volunteers were fantastic. The only thing that sucked was the race tee – but they’re not alone on that front. So many races just have the most barf-worthy t-shirts; I don’t get it! I’d love an option to not get the shirt (save the resources), or choose something else like a bottle opener or key ring (i.e. something I might actually use).

Overall

It was a well executed day and I’m stoked to be participating in long course triathlon again. Onwards to Ironman Canada!

Ironman Canada: DNF /  by Jonas Caruana

This is not the post I was hoping to write after Ironman Canada weekend. After training for 36 weeks, I hoped to write about a graceful swim, an easy bike and a powerful run (my race mantras) that led me to putting a solid first Ironman time on the boards. I hoped to put on a show of grit, heart and power not just for myself, but for my close friends who had traveled in from Montreal, San Francisco and Vancouver.

So on Friday July 22nd, two days before race day, it was with a heavy heart that I sent the following email to my crew:

Hi Team,

First of all let me just say that I am so stoked to see you all, to introduce you to each other, and so grateful to have your support this weekend.

Second, this is a hard email to write and I am still processing it but I'll get straight to it. I will be starting the race on Sunday but will be unable to finish it.

Five weeks ago I had a fantastic race in Victoria at the Half-Ironman triathlon there. I suffered on the run but that's to be expected after four and a half hours of endurance racing. One week post-race, I started experiencing pain in both my knees. I thought it was just some leftover inflammation from the race (and nothing out of the ordinary) so I cut my training volume by 2/3 and assumed it would sort itself out.

Unfortunately it hasn't and I have a case of patellofemoral syndrome that has continued to get worse over the last few weeks. Basically what that means is my knee caps are tracking off centre due to excessive and imbalanced muscle tightness in everything that surrounds my knee. Your knee caps are shaped like a wedge on the underside, with a pointy bit that needs to track nicely down the middle of an equally wedge-shaped valley formed by the joint of your Femur (thigh bone) and your Tibia (the bigger lower-leg bone). I am quad dominate (thank-you cycling) and those bad boys have been yanking my knee caps towards the outside, creating pressure, inflammation and irritation on the underlying cartilage, bone and surrounding tissues. Thankfully no long-term damage done; just pissed-off knees. As an athlete I take full responsibility for the situation as I've learned that I haven't been stretching, rolling and recovering enough, to counter-balance the work I've been putting my body through. 

The result is that even short runs at slow pace are painful and I can't put power through my legs on the bike – and we all know how much I love to hammer on the bike. A final, 40min test run this last Monday was fairly excruciating and I needed the assistance of handrails to get down stairs on Tuesday due to the extent of the irritation. A final session with my Physio early this morning – and another stern talking to (she knows how stubbon I can be) – and we have decided that I will start the race, do the swim, and try to complete the first third of the bike, which is a 60km out-and-back section that runs back through Whistler before heading north for the latter 2/3 of the course. I will take that 60km as it comes and mentally it's about being amongst fellow athletes and soaking up what parts of the experience I can, given the circumstances. I will then withdraw from the race and join you all in cheering on the athletes for the rest of the day. 

I have been delaying sharing this news because frankly, I have been working towards July 24th for 36 weeks, since last November, and have been hoping I would be able to get right for race day. I have trained over 315 hours in that time: 174 on the bike, 61 running, 53 swimming, 27 strength training, and countless more hours in yoga, stretching, physio, massage etc. It's a tough pill to swallow. 

And it's not lost on me that you all have traveled, organised to take time off, and chosen to spend this weekend with me and I truly wanted to put on a show for you all. To the extent that I can I will do my best.

And then, I'll look forward to spending time with you, enjoying the mountains and having a beer.

I am not done with Ironman. This is a frustrating, but humbling, part of a journey that continues to be very rewarding and enjoyable. After next week, I focus on recovery and getting back to basics as I build toward the Noosa Triathlon, which is an Olympic distance race in Australia, at the end of October.

Let's enjoy a great weekend in Whistler first. 

Much love and see you all soon,

Jonas

How did I not address this problem sooner?

Frankly, I'm stubborn, a little ignorant, and there's always the stuff you don't even know that you don't know yet.

Up until Ironman 70.3 Victoria, I hadn't had any significant problems except for some pain in my left foot that came on after longer runs. This might have been a symptom of a bigger issue but at the time I put it in the bucket of "suck it up buttercup", did some localized stretching / mobilization which helped, and kept pushing.

I should have gone to my physio earlier. Stubbornly, in my head, I was home. "The cake is baked!" I thought to myself after Victoria; time for one last three-week training cycle to bank some more fitness gains and then taper into Ironman Canada. We're good. But I really wasn't and should have been at physio a week after Vic.

Gotta love IMS

When I finally did make it onto my physio's table – two weeks out from Ironman Canada – a few movement tests showed that my core strength was really not great, and my stability and alignment through each individual leg was also seriously sub-par. In a single-leg squat with my eyes closed I was so wobbly my physio said my level of control was like that of an old lady (we've worked together for two years and she knows I like a good dose of humour – so she serves it up from time to time). No amount of IMS was going to help. Though we tried...

I had the cardiovascular fitness to race Ironman but musculoskeletally (is that even a word?) I didn't have the alignment and control needed to push my body hard for 10+ hours. It didn't occur to me how critical this was until it was too late. Ouch.

Taking responsibility

Part of me just wants to shrug, make a deep sighing noise and say "Wow, I guess sometimes luck's just not on your side". But to brush this off as a bad stroke of luck would be wasting the most powerful learning of the experience.

The reality is, as dedicated to the training plan as I was, the plan was insufficient. I thought I was doing enough recovery work. Since committing to Ironman in November last year, I started doing a monthly session with an RMT, doing yoga once per week, and putting a 30-minute 'therapy' block into my calendar every day: time for stretching, rolling, Theraband exercises etc. I thought I was on it.

I did the RMT and the yoga. But was really slack with the 30 minutes of daily therapy. With busy days building a new career, and after training was done in a day, that therapy session was the first to go. There's a big difference between the intention to do something and actually doing it.

The lesson I've learned through all this is that the recovery aspect of my training has to be as robust as the 'work' part of the training. It has to be non-negotiable, just like training sessions are. I'm now painfully conscious of what happens when you work your body harder than you recover it. At some point it will tell you in no uncertain terms: enough. And that can happen at the worst possible time.

I won't waste more time beating myself up over being slack with my recovery work in the lead up to Ironman Canada. By the same token, I won't waste this opportunity to learn a powerful lesson.

Because even if it wasn't for Ironman Canada, or any other race, I'd still be doing a ton of physical activity. This is still my lifestyle. I love to sweat. And I want to be active well into the future. I want my body to keep up. 

The shift that's occurred is that now I truly get that I need to take care of my body. I can't neglect it. Tough way to learn the lesson but if this is what it took –  so be it.

What's the plan?

Back to basics. The big muscles are strong but the little ones are not. Without them as best supporting actors, my joints aren't protected, and as a whole the system lacks the integrity required to get through long course events. So back to physio, and lots of core stabilizer work. Back to technical skills development in the pool. Time in general to take a step back and make a new plan.

So far, no plans for another Ironman start line this year. Ironman Taupo, March 4th, 2017, is on the radar. I am registered for the famous Noosa Triathlon – an Olympic – at the end of October this year, and I'm really looking forward to that. In the meantime I want to be back on the bike ASAP and riding well because that brings me endless joy. I'm planning on trying cyclocross to mix things up and want to have a blast doing it. Fun = critical element of the mix. I would love to throw in another triathlon or two this year. But I will prioritize the foundational work and not race before I'm ready.

Mementos

These are my Ironman souvenirs. A bunch of branded artifacts that only competitors get. A part of me wanted to get rid of all this stuff so I'd get to stop answering the question "You did the Ironman? How'd it go?" 

I'd be lying if I said I didn't put my whole heart into this and that it didn't matter as much as it does to me. Ironman represents more than a race or a bucket list item. It represents a new level of personal progress – physically and mentally; a shift in what I experience as possible for myself.

My friend Dave Mackey also said after the race that Ironman is a great example of what's good about humanity: it brings people together regardless of who you are or where you're from, aligns us around a common goal and makes us pull together in support of each other. We need more of that. I love being a part of it and in my own way, being an ambassador for it. These mementos are the symbols of that and I will wear them proudly.

They're also mementos of the hardest lesson I've learned in training and racing to date. It hurts right now but that'll fade and the lesson will endure. I will keep them to remind me that recovering my body allows me to keep working it and be healthy for the long run.

Gratitude

Friday the 22nd – when my physio and I agreed the plan for race day – was a tough day. Ironman weekend was a tough weekend. I've never withdrawn from a race before. You know when people are in your corner when you send the email above and they immediately respond with messages of love and support. 

To my crew who traveled from near and far to be with me over Ironman weekend: you were such a rock solid foundation of unconditional support. Mackey, Sciacca, Mathieu, Christie, DK, Kristian, Pete, Andy and Sara, I can't thank-you enough.

Likewise, to all the training buddies, friends and family who called, messaged and gave hugs – I don't have the words to express my appreciation. You are the best. Special shout out to Tom Waller and Ryan Muir: you both have been rad training buddies and I can't wait to toe another start line with you.

To My Team who helped me prepare for this weekend, a wholehearted thank-you: Vital Supply Co. for feeding me, Christie Baumgartner for yoga, Barb Tyers for massage, Noa Deutsch for bike fits, Steph Corker for winter riding inside, Movement108 for strength training, Paul Cross for swim coaching and Musette for community and coffee.

Points on the board

I still got to put an Ironman swim time on the board and it's great to have something to improve on. And I got to be out there on the bike course for 60km of the bike, amongst all the athletes and soaking up the experience on what was an absolutely perfect race day, weather-wise. I got to ride alongside my training and racing buddies Ryan and Siân, and exchange a few words and smiles. And then I got to spend the rest of the day cheering people on and watching friends run across that line.

My friend Sasha Gollish is an elite runner from Ontario who just missed out on making the Rio Olympic team. She knows a thing or two about the ups and downs of training and racing. She is a true sportsperson whose reflections on her own performances continue to inspire me. She sent me a note with some words which I'm taking to heart, as I regroup and begin working towards the next start line. Thanks again Sasha:

“You are going to be a smashing success. Do not look at this as a failure but as a stepping stone to greater things.”
— Sasha Gollish

Here's to the next start line!

Photo credits: Dave Mackey, thank-you also for documenting the weekend in photos, many of which appear in this post. You got some great shots!

The 2016 Vancouver Sun Run 10k: Racing as Training /  by Jonas Caruana

I love the Vancouver Sun Run because it's just, so, Vancouver: 43,000-somethin'-odd runners (this year), we take over West Georgia Street, the course is lined with supporters, and the race is accessible to everyone from wheelchair racers, to pro runners (the winner ran it in 28:52!), to families walking it with strollers. It's an incredible excuse to get out with the city and be a part of an awesome, decades-old tradition – this was the 32nd instalment of the annual run, held on Sunday, April 17th, 2016.

Intention

Race Day Protocol – kit check: New Balance 1500v2 shoes. Garmin Forerunner 630 watch with HRM-Run strap. Lululemon 5" Surge Shorts. Asics New York Marathon gloves. Oakley Jawbone sunnies. iPod Nano: the square one (the best Apple ever made!)

In the context of my annual race schedule, this was a 'C' priority race meaning it's just another workout on the plan for the week: its purpose was racing-as-training, not to run my fastest 10k (although that'd be nice!). I knew it was going to be a hard one as the plan was to go for it and try to break 40mins, whilst not losing sight of the fact that the intention of doing this event – aside from getting a hard workout and being a part of a special Vancouver event – was to practice race day protocol.

Race Day Protocol = all the things you do in the 12-24 hours before arriving at a start line. It includes: preparing all my kit the night before. Preparing what I would eat for breakfast. Setting the alarms. Getting up, eating, showering, doing physio exercises, mobilizing the body, putting my kit on. In that order. Paying attention to all the details. Getting into the right headspace, and staying there. This gets challenged when you get on a bus heading downtown and it's full of other runners with lots of nervous energy. I hopped on a bus, looked around at all the other runners, and that was when I felt my heartrate rise and nervousness level increase. It's good to expose yourself to that frequently because the more you do it, you become less sensitive to it, and the more relaxed you can be heading to the start line. And even then, breathe. Control the response. Remember, it's your race. Racing as training is a great way to practice your Race Day Protocol and make progress on the mental side of your race preparation and execution.

Mood boosters

When I know I'm going to show up to a start line feeling less than optimal physically (heavy legs, tired, etc) anything that can help boost how I feel mentally or physically is worth considering. In this case, I wore some dope new socks (definitely won the sock game on Sunday, if I may say so) and put together a race kit that looked wicked. Dressing for success is as true for sport as it is for any other area of life. I gave the legs a fresh shave (again: Athlete mindset. Be ready for action). I also knew that I didn't want to be 'in my head' so decided to listen to music on the run (something I don't do in most events), made a hard-hitting playlist beat-matched to a running cadence of about 180 steps per minute, so I would just lock onto the beat and move my legs to that.

The Race

A 10k is pretty much a red-line effort the whole way for me and that was the plan, plain and simple: stay out of trouble early on (there are so many people to dodge!); then get to – and play with – threshold and push it to the finish line. It's a mostly flat course with just a few inclines involved in getting onto (and over) the bridges. So pretty easy to find and hold a rhythm, and to power through the tough spots.

I had a running buddy – Chad Clark – and we knew we'd use each other as pacers for the first bit and then see how it went: we were both clear that if either of us was feeling good and wanted to go for it – they would go for it!

I felt steady and strong the whole race through – but when I got into the final kilometre, I had no kick in me. Chad lit the jets with about 2km to go and I tried to lift to keep him in sight, but the legs just weren't having it. The pace crept up in the final 500m, but that was due to the downhill of the Cambie bridge offramp, not a surge in leg power!

 Here's a screengrab of the data from the race (from Strava):

Overall

Official chip time: 40:50. Not my fastest 10k, but a damn hard workout and a race day well executed. Mission accomplished!

 

Links:

Subaru Vancouver Half-Ironman: Always Wear Socks /  by Jonas Caruana

2014-07-22-at-15-35-32.jpg
Very important piece of race kit: the trucker hat!

Very important piece of race kit: the trucker hat!

The Subaru Vancouver Triathlon was my first big “A” race of the year. I’d trained for the better part of five months with this race in mind, logging about 160 hours of swimming, biking and running; training over about 20 weeks. That time also included a series of prep races, including my very first triathlon (see Shawnigan Lake Olympic post).

So it was funny when the half-Iron weekend rolled around and all things considered, I felt pretty calm about it and mostly, excited. I mean, compared to the Olympic, I only had to swim an extra 500m (we've previously established this is not yet a strong suit) and in return, I got to ride my bike more than twice as far (I love the bike!); and same for the run. I was basically thinking that I had more than double the time to make up for slowness in the water – and I was stoked about it.

We're going to break this recap down simply into wins and misses. Here goes!

Wins:

The day: just look at it!

In terms of conditions? Can't ask for much better than this!

The swim: I didn’t want to tap out once. This is progress when compared to my experience in the water at Shawnigan. I didn’t feel stressed or panicked. I just got in the water and got ‘er done. I even enjoyed it. It was not fast: 43mins-ish. I swam breaststroke for more than 90% of it. But I felt good coming out of the water, running across the beach toward transition whilst stripping down my wetsuit and thinking about the game plan for the bike. All the right thoughts were flowing!

The transitions: I freakin’ nailed those transitions! At Shawnigan, T1 took me 5:03 and T2 took 2:20. Experienced triathletes look at that and say “those are whole minutes of free time for the taking. Take them!". So I bought some triathlon cycling shoes, learned the flying mount and dismount, and got everything else together so the amount of time I needed to be in transition was minimized. Result? T1 time down from 5:03 to 2:01, and T2 time down from 2:20 to 1:08. So pumped!

The bike: I rode a controlled effort on the bike with the plan of feeling fresh for the run so I could clock negative-splits through the half-marathon. Plan executed. This took discipline, because I love to open it up on the bike.

What a backdrop to race against!

Overall execution of race strategy: finished the swim feeling good, controlled the bike and set up perfectly for the run: felt fresh, fuelled and ready to fly.

Misses:

The swim: still the biggest area for improvement. My strongest swimming peer came out of the water in 25 mins! (Me: over 43 mins!) Now, he used to be a ranked, competitive college athlete. My goal is to get a 1.9k swim time under the 30 mark.

Nutrition on the bike: the exact same nutrition I had used on the bike in training on the actual race course, didn’t work exactly as planned. Race conditions are a different game: your body is in a heightened state of stress and that translated to me dry heaving on lap 1 when I tried to eat the first energy bar. At this point in the race you really want to start getting calories in the tank. But I took a break from trying to eat, let the stomach settle down and switched to liquid calories which worked well. Got the solids down later, but also subbed out an energy bar for a bottle of the on-course Gatorade and – having done the mental math to ensure I’d get in enough calories – was good for the rest of the day. This actually turned into a big win because it represented being able to successfully switch up strategies on the fly and keep going strong.

Salt on the run: I cramped the last 3k. Not badly, but if you have to slow down because the cramp is that strong, that’s not good. It was a stinking hot day, and the heat radiated down from above and up off the bright, white, crushed sandy beach path. I underestimated just how much salt I’d lose. Needed more.

SOCKS: nope, didn’t wear socks on the run. FAIL! Funny this, because it was actually a choice (I didn’t forget). I was so committed to dropping my T2 time that I decided I didn’t have time for socks. Epic. Mistake. Hot day, wet shoes, swollen feet, sand in the shoes, and no socks had me feelin’ that blister feeling at kilometre 4. The remaining kilometres were excruciating! This is evidenced by the following race photos. First two photos: Jonas heading out onto the run course. Light, bright and feelin’ mighty. Later on... Jonas on the second half of the run. Every foot placement was just… pain. I ran across the finish line, and went straight to the med-tent to get wrapped up. And my good friend Audra piggy-backed me outta there.

The run: with my feet in bad shape, I couldn’t amp up the pace to run negative splits as I’d planned. A 1:39:15 ain’t bad, but it could have been a lot better as otherwise, my body felt great and ready to turn it up.

Results:

  • Swim (1.9km): 43:17
  • T1: 2:01
  • Bike (90km): 2:38:34
  • T2: 1:08
  • Run (20km): 1:39:15
  • Total: 5:04:15

If I were to adjust for the shorter run and add 1.1km at average race pace (4:57/km), I'd get a run time of 1:44:27 and a total race time of 5:09:12. That's useful for future comparisons.

Overall, it was a solid second triathlon, a great first half-Ironman, and a total win from a goal-setting standpoint. My goal was to come in somewhere between five and five and a half hours and stopping the clock at 5:04:15 was a rockin’ time, even more so knowing that with some strategic tweaks (i.e. wearing socks) and skill acquisition (swimming), times in the mid- 4 hour range start to become possible. That’s exciting!

Thank-yous and shout-outs:

Extra special thank-yous go out to friends and loved ones who dragged their butts out of bed to come and cheer me on, early on a Sunday:

  • Syd: my #1 fan who came back from LA just for race weekend!
  • Training buddies Juliet & Greg: to Juliet who stuck around to cheer me on after having finished her race, and to Greg for yelling extra loud! I kicked a little extra every time I saw your yelling faces!
  • Tim Schokking: seeing you up at the main intersection of the bike leg was something I looked forward to each out-and-back. You da bomb!
  • ‘Bomber’ Kevin, Paul Cross and the VEC crew: thanks for welcoming me into the club tent even though I wasn’t yet a member (stoked to be rolling with you now!)
  • All the friends who couldn’t be physically present but who sent messages of support and encouragement
  • The lulu crew: the loudest, brightest, funnest looking group of cheerers ever. Special shoutout to Chrissy Abram who made it out, crotches and swollen knee be damned!
  • Audra for piggy backing me back to the car after having my blisters patched up in the medical tent. You’re the best! IOU: 1x piggy back wherever and whenever you need.
  • Michelle Armstrong: such a pleasant surprise to see you on what became a pretty quiet part of the bike course!
  • Shout-out to all the folks from lululemon (past and present) who also competed: Juliet Korver, Colin Knudsen, Jon Carkner, Scott Van Doormaal, Laurel Richardson, Jen Cerullo, Felix del Toro, Delaney Schweitzer, Deanne Schweitzer, Eric Peterson, Cindy Bokitch. It was rad seeing you out on the course!

Lastly, thanks to Ed, Nick and the team at Mighty Riders for being so rad and helping me get my bike position nailed and bike setup just right. You guys are my secret weapon!

Subaru Shawnigan Lake International Triathlon: My First Tri! /  by Jonas Caruana

So Shawni Lake Triathlon was – for me – equal parts excitement (my first tri!), performance of a newly acquired skill (swimming), facing fears (that I’d suck at it and / or potentially drown), practicing what I love (racing), and livin’ a dream. 

For the longest time I’ve wanted to do a triathlon and not being a swimmer has been the barrier to entry. For whatever reason: busy at work, busy with other projects, busy with life – I didn’t make learning to swim a priority until this year. Aussies also have a particularly strong background in the sport of triathlon, and I can remember as a kid watching triathletes on TV, in awe at how fast they’d swim, how fast they’d ride (and the rocket ships they’d ride!) and how quick they’d run – and that they did that all in one race. I’ve always admired triathletes.

So this post gives the blow-by-blow of my first triathlon experience. If you’re a first-time triathlete, and in particular, someone who’s struggled with the swim part of the training, I hope that sharing my experience helps you along your path to getting that first triathlon under your belt. And for my friends and family – I finally did it! And here are all the gory details.

The Work: Learning to Swim

Think about the last time you tried to learn a skill for which you had absolutely zero prior knowledge or competency. For example, if you’re not a musical person and you’ve tried your hand at guitar, or not an ‘artsy’ person and tried to paint, or not multi-lingual and tried to pick up a foreign language whose letters or sounds bear no resemblance to your native tongue (say, an English speaker trying to learn Mandarin). It’s a humbling experience, right? Because you really have to start at square one, and it’s a while before you hit an inflection point where things start to get dramatically easier, as your learnings begin to compound.

So it was for me and swimming. It was all the above, with the added fear of being in a completely foreign environment (water) along with maybe drowning each practice. And after 4+ months of being in the pool 3-4 times per week, I’m yet to hit that inflection point. 

Now, I don’t necessarily have a fear of water – I love pools, the beach, diving in and swimming around. But I lack the kind of confidence that comes from knowing I can be self-sufficient  (i.e. stay afloat without any help) in the water for an extended period of time. 

December 2013: At the Vancouver Aquatic Centre with Coach Therèse from the BC Dolphins

And that was the work these last few months. Getting in the pool. Developing a new sense: “you must feel the water!” Coach Therèse would urge me, “Press down on the water; pull the water!” Easier said than done, lady! Hearing those words and translating that to what you actually do in the water felt hard and frustrating. It didn’t come naturally. My first reaction was to work harder: kick harder, pull my arms through the water faster, take bigger breaths. It seemed like the harder I tried, the worse it got. The coaching? “Relaaax in the water!”. Huh? I’m fighting for survival out here!!

So I found swimming really counter-intuitive. As compared to most other athletic pursuits where harder, faster and stronger usually gets better results, swimming – at least when you’re learning – is the exact opposite. Because as soon as you try to strong arm your way to the other end of the pool, everything falls apart with a rapid, domino-like effect: you tense up, which causes your body to sink in the water, which creates more drag, which makes it harder to move forward, which makes you fatigue faster and need more air, which makes you panic a little, and now everything’s gone to hell! 

Listen up, beginners! (Can't believe I'm about to say this.) Truly, the work in learning to swim is really about learning not to fight it, but to feel it: to tune in and work with the water, and really develop a sense for how to move through it. Stick with it, even if it feels like the slowest progress, session after session. Do your drills. I hate some of those damn drills, but they teach you building blocks and they do add up over time. You will get there!

Personally, I have a long way to go. But the good news is I like eating humble pie and every time I jump in the water I get a big ‘ol serve of it! And before I knew it, the weekend of May 25th – Subaru Shawnigan Lake Triathlon – had arrived. Time to jump into the lake and see what happens. Here’s how the day went!

Goals for the Day

Target times for the Olympic distance:

  • Swim: 35mins
  • T1: 3mins
  • Bike: 1h 5mins
  • T2: 2mins
  • Run: 45mins
  • Total: 2h 30mins

Intention: most of all, the day was about getting that first triathlon under my belt. First, I wanted to get it done. I borrowed a friend’s goals here: “Don’t get pulled from the water because you’re drowning, and don’t get pulled from the water because you’re outta time.” Thanks Robert!  Second, I wanted to notice everything I needed to notice so I could learn for next time – there’s a lot going on in a triathlon. And third – perhaps most of all – I wanted to finish the day thinking “That was fun and I want to do it again!”

Pre-race

The day before the race is pre-race briefing and bike check-in. You learn a ton of tricks just by watching and listening. Your bike’s outside overnight. What if it rains? Turns out there are bike-fitting ‘raincoats’. Hot temperatures forecasted? Let some air out of your tyres so they don’t blow out. Gear selection: put it into take-off gear straight up. You won’t be riding it ’til you’re flying out of T1 tomorrow anyway. Where do I stash my gear bag on race day? Along the fence, where everyone else will be stashing theirs. You’ll pick up a ton of helpful tips that first race.

With all the pre-race stuff done, it was time to get an early night, and get ready for…

Race Day

Tip: have a race-morning routine planned. Everything from the breakfast you will eat and the clothes you will wear, to how you’ll get to the race site and how much time you’ll need for body marking, setting up your gear by your bike, getting into your wetsuit (this still takes me the better part of 20mins) and warming up in the water. The more planned this is, the less curve balls you’ll have that will stress you out. 

Because before you know it, you’ll be shuffling down the bank to the water’s edge with everyone else, and it’s game time…

That’s me hanging out at the back of the men’s wave. Red caps = Men. White caps = Women. Bright orange caps = beginners!

The Swim

Here we go! The gun goes off and I let the men’s wave go off in front of me. I wait around a bit because I want some clear water - doing 1,500m is still a challenge for me without the open water wrestling involved! 

See that orange cap looking around? That might be me...

Straight up: the swim was rough. Lots of new sensations: first time in my wetsuit (oh the buoyancy!), first time in open water (zoiks! So murky!), first time swimming with all those people around (the women’s wave caught up to me reeeal quick). Beginners, practice in that wetsuit in open water before game day. I knew this beforehand but didn’t do it for a variety of reasons.... lesson learned.

There are waves in my face, goggles are fogging up (making it hard to see the buoys, and you really want to swim the shortest line possible). Lots of things that could make you tense up and forget everything you’ve learned in the pool. Which is exactly what happens. 

About 150m in, I have a mini-freak out: someone brushes up against me, I turn to breathe and suck in a wave of water. In a split-second of wetsuit-constricted choking and spluttering I’m really panicked. A wave of emergency thoughts flood my head: “Man you are WAY out of your depth! Stick to biking! Today is not your day. Do I go back?!”. At which point, the rational brain kicks in with “Dude, you couldn’t sink in this wetsuit if you tried. Caaalm the heck down. Just keep moving your arms. Keep moving forward. Get to the buoy!”. 

Happy to feel terra firma under my feet!

So having rounded the first buoy, about 280m from shore, I swim over to the safety paddle boarder and hang on for a break (it’s legal so long as the object you’re clinging to isn’t providing propulsion). It feels like minutes but I need to reset and regroup mentally. By this point, the women’s wave – which had started three minutes after the men’s – has passed me for the most part and there is less traffic in the water. Time to go again.

I swim to the next buoy; hang on to another boarder for a break. Regroup, reset. I’m really working hard; at the same time, trying to relax, knowing that will help me go faster. I also start to realize that this is the ‘worst’ part of the day, and that I don’t get to bike if I wuss out, and I really want to ride. So it’s non-stop from that point on. 

I probably swam breast stroke for 95% of the swim, and finish it in 34:43. No shame in that though: I’m stoked simply to have covered the distance, in that water, in race conditions. Mission accomplished!

T1 (transition from swim to bike)

Getting out of the water, I’m a bit disoriented and wobbly (experienced triathletes say this is due to the blood being in your upper body, not your legs), and my body feels kinda shocked.

Struggling to get the wetsuit off before I reach the bike!

That said, I’ve effin’ made it and stoked about it! I walk from the beach to the bike – need a minute to reset and make sure I set up properly for the ride, and that I don’t do anything dumb like break a rule (clip the helmet, then unrack the bike) or forget my timing chip. So I take my time and get everything right, but it eats the clock: T1 time = 5:03. 

Mentally, things were turning around fast: “Ok race: you owned me out in the water. I’m gonna own you out on the road.” #letsdothis

The Bike

The course was a hilly, two-lap ride around Shawnigan Lake, which actually totalled about 44km (standard Olympic distance is 40km). It was raining, the roads were bumpy and patchy in places, and the course wasn’t closed to the public, so there was occasional traffic and I got stuck behind a car for the longest descent of Lap 1 which sucked. 

But dammit I enjoyed that ride! My legs felt strong, I was moving fast and just chewing up people on the course. My ride position felt awesome, thanks to working with the fit master Ed at Mighty Riders in Vancouver. Beginner tip: get your bike fit by someone that knows what they’re doing! I have a Specialized Venge and at first, got the official Specialized BG Bike Fit done… which was fine, but that set me up as if I were an inflexible 50-year old. Ed got me set up like a racer: lengthening me out on the bike, getting me low and out of the way of the wind.

Now, the bike’s my favourite leg and when I’m on those two wheels I don’t think too much because I’m having such a blast. What I tried to keep in mind was fuelling (I had a couple gels to get down before the run), and some advice another racing friend – Erin Llewyk – gave me “Remember this ain’t a bike race – ride it strong, but leave plenty for the run. Because it’s even more fun smokin’ people on the run!”. It’s good advice.

It was a great ride with beautiful scenery and locals out cheering which I’m always grateful for. And after 1:15:23, the bike was done and it was time to run.

T2 (transition from bike to run)

Coming off the bike, I noticed my feet were really cold – I didn’t wear shoe covers or toe-thingys on the bike (though I did wear socks) and with the wet conditions and wind chill (temp was about 10ºC), the front half of my feet were numb. “Ok take it easy first part of the run – find your running legs and go from there”. I was checked-in and ready to rumble. This transition was a lot quicker at 2:20 and I felt good going into the run.

The Run

The first kilometre was slow: a stiff uphill climb out of transition to the Trans Canada Trail trailhead, whilst getting my running legs under me. At this point in the race, I’d learned a ton and more than anything, wanted to finish the race feeling awesome – so rather than pushing the pace to 4:00/km and saving 5 mins on the race clock, I settled into a nice 4:25-4:30 pace, started smiling and enjoyed the race to the end.

Results

The bike ended up being a little over 4kms longer than expected, which at my average speed (~35km/h) added about 7mins, meaning I wasn’t far off my total goal time. Transition times need to come down as I could save whole minutes there without much work. 

Overall? I felt awesome coming across that line: a big personal goal achieved and one that did not come easy. I felt great (plenty of room for improvement next time!), learned a ton and most importantly, didn’t realize exactly how much I’d enjoy piecing together those five different bits together (Swim, T1, Bike, T2, Run) into one race. It really is a challenge and involves more than just a little bit of strategy!

With racing buddy Juliet Korver. This lady is fast!

The best thing? I discovered that the triathlon community is overwhelmingly inclusive, helpful and just plain nice! I asked a million questions and got a million helpful answers. And the Shawnigan Lake folks were awesome: just so kind and friendly; they put on a great race. I’d definitely do it again.

Shout-outs to racing friends Juliet Korver and Colin Knudy, who also crushed it out there at Shawnigan. It was wicked seeing you out on the course and trading stories on the ferry home.

Last but not least: huuuge thanks to my #1 fan Syd, who braved the cold and rain for 4+ hours to cheer me on and snap a ton of photos. You da bomb!

The next race? Four weeks today: Subaru Vancouver Half-Ironman.

The 2014 Vancouver Sun Run 10k: 30 Years Running /  by Jonas Caruana

Today was the Vancouver Sun Run, the second race on my schedule for the year. It’s one of the largest races in North America – in this, its 30th year, over 45,000 people attended. The Sun Run has been a race I’ve wanted to do ever since I first visited Vancouver back in 2011. I’d seen all these signs and made a mental note to one day, come back and race it. Today was that day!

2014 Sun Run Course Map

It’s a downtown course with enough elevation to keep things interesting (including one special kicker up Hornby before hooking onto the bridge).

And today was a great day for it: somewhat overcast, cool, and the rain stayed at bay for the most part.

The sheer size of the event lends to the sense of occasion: the six-lanes wide, arterial West Georgia Street is converted into a half-dozen runner corrals that stretch over five city blocks. Each corral is colour coded and giant balloon arches float above helping runners find where they should be.

Whoever sang “Oh Canada” had the voice of an angel. There’s something about a national anthem that rouses people. You hear voices you’d never expect, and a different look comes over people’s faces. I like to think those looks are mostly of pride and gratitude. That’s what I feel in those moments (and Canada’s not even my birth country). Because it’s not lost on me that a lot of people gave a lot so that I could show up today on this cool Vancouver morning to chase down a fast time. There’s something special about that shared moment - the energy shifts somehow and you feel a sense of resonance. You feel connected to thousands of people you don’t even know. I always get a little emotional in those moments - I feel grateful for every start line and the connection it enables between me and all those people who also showed up to do their best. I’m grateful to participate with them.

Race Mantras

I had three ‘mantras’ for today:

  1. I am ready to hurt
  2. I run my own race
  3. I am injury free

And goal times:

  • Under 40mins = good outcome
  • Under 39 = great outcome
  • ‘Dream time’ = 38:30

The first mantra was about leaving the house ready to go where I knew I’d need to go mentally in the latter half of the race when I knew I’d be suffering. It was also a learning from the B&O 5k I raced in Toronto last year where I set a tough time goal but didn’t leave the house willing to hurt as much as I’d need to to achieve it. I got that right today and declared my willingness to dig into the hurt locker from the moment I swung my feet out of bed this morning. My good friend and triathlete buddy Juliet Korver sent me a message that was right on point:

The second mantra was a reminder to stick to the plan and run my race and no-one else’s. This isn’t revolutionary thinking but time after time, I’ve told myself this before the race, the gun goes off and it’s like my lizard brain takes over and the plan goes out the window. All the sudden I’m trying to keep up with this or that guy who’s up ahead or running past me. So today was yet another exercise in the never ending practice of learning to run my own race... "Stick to the plan, man."

Running my own race is also about ownership: everything that happens today is 100% mine. Everything I did do, and did not do. I can’t explain away poor performances with “Oh, I tried to keep up with this one guy and that just blew me out for the last part of the race”. As if trying to keep up with someone were in some way, an admirable strategy for running a race and a fair reason for not doing as well as you’d hoped. Running my own race is thinking that also calms me down at the start line - because now it doesn’t matter what everyone else does: all that matters for my race is me, my goals, and my plan to achieve them. Then the execution, and the outcomes. With that kind of ownership you really set yourself up to learn from each race and improve for the next one.

The third mantra was about staying checked in to my body throughout the race. As things start to really hurt I can sometimes focus too much on handling the hurt in my head and forget about how I’m placing my feet, relaxing my shoulders, leaning forward and just scanning my body and reminding myself “we’re good”. I’d also had a week of the 'tweaks’. My right knee had this weird tweak to it, my left hip felt tight and kept mini-cramping, my right shoulder had an annoying click to it. Sometimes you can over focus on those little niggling things and make them into something they’re not. This mantra reminded me to stay checked-in to my body, and if I did that, I knew I’d have the best chance of an injury free day. 

So how’d it go?

A few pacing reminders

A few pacing reminders

Well, the 1st km was about getting the heart rate going and finding my legs. Don’t go crazy, don’t get held up in traffic. That all happened.

Kilometres 2-5 were about staying strong and steady, and not burning too many matches. That mostly happened, though I might have still gone a little too hard for this point of the race. 

Kilometre 6: deal with the Hornby climb and Burrard Bridge. Basically, run it strong but not so strong that it causes unnecessary lactate build-up. Check. Pain level is climbing. Also somewhere around here my heart rate strap started acting up. I’d just come up an incline and my watch said I was at 109, and I knew that couldn’t be right. While I don’t hang off the HR numbers, I use them as a sense check for how I’m feeling vs. where my body’s at.

Kilometres 7-9: now we’re hurting pretty good. My lungs and torso felt strained. I go to some not great places mentally. I actually considered stepping off the gas significantly to catch a break. My version of “The Blerch” – what my favourite funny cartoonist The Oatmeal calls it - was saying all sorts of unhelpful stuff around being unprepared, under-rested, etc. Thankfully, this was also that part of the race that I’d decided I was willing to hurt through so you just push on. I did not enjoy it. 

Last km: Paaain! Time to lift – and get that last km split back down under 4 mins. I’m stoked to see that finish line; my whole body is well past the red line. I’m toast.

Results:

Final times: chip time 40:32, 10k time on Strava 39:49. For me, knowing I can run 10k in under 40 at this point in the season is what I care about – so I go off Strava time and consider my ‘good’ time goal as having been achieved. Clearly I have work to do on hitting that ‘dream time’ – there is speed work in the near future…

Thank-you Strava!

Thank-you Strava!

And goals 2 and 3? Check and check. I didn’t pace off anyone else. I noticed people passing and said to myself “that’s ok”. Checked-in with my own pace and carried on. And I was constantly scanning my body and separating the good hurt from the bad hurt – of which there was none. 

Post-race. Glad to be done.

Post-race. Glad to be done.

As for the race itself, it was well organized in that they got all the basics right (chip timing, corralling of competitors, gear check and pick-up, course signage and marshalling) but no points for surprise and delight. Email communications could have been better (more clear and concise); they ran out of my size of competitor shirt (but, being plain cotton and not exactly awesome it wasn’t anything to feel miffed about missing out on). At $50 for entry into one of North America’s biggest 10k races, I felt like it was good value and I’d definitely do it again. 

The next race is a big one: my first solo triathlon; the Olympic distance at the Subaru Shawnigan Lake Triathlon.

Onwards.

Colour me crazy, “Color Me RAD”! /  by Jonas Caruana

Imagine a 5K run where they don’t bother giving you a timing chip, nor organising you into time-segmented corrals despite thousands of participants at the start line. Instead, you’re instructed to turn up in your tennis whites, ready to get clobbered by The Colour Bomb Squad. Losing would mean finishing the race clean. Winning happens to those who come out looking like a tie-dyed hippy batting flecks of coloured corn starch from their eyelashes. This is “Color Me Rad”.

Colo(u)r Me Rad is a ridiculously fun event – we had such a blast! Check out the video above to see the action. Shout out to the crew from Dave’s Run Club at Lululemon St. Catherine, and to the peeps at my Lululemon store on Greene Avenue (where I’m a proud Ambassador). So cool running with you guys!

Now, this was a proper event after all and for the record, a well executed operation. Packet pick-up was a breeze. The staffers were cool.  The official race shirt is a casual cotton tee with a sweet design – I’ll actually wear it. We also got some cool sunnies and a “RAD” temporary tattoo. The event course was well marked. Plenty of Porta Potties at the start. I didn’t use the coatcheck, but it was available, for free. Starting and finishing at the Olympic Stadium gave the event a cool backdrop. All in all, solid marks for a well-run event.

Now, a few tips for those who plan to do an event like this:

  • Don’t come planning to “run a good time”. You’ll have to time yourself for starters, and more importantly, you’ll be missing the point. Get a crew of friends together and come ready to get messy!
  • There are a lot of people and believe it or not, you kinda can’t rely on getting lucky to get coated with colour. If you wanna come out looking like you just went to war against an army of Skittles, get in front of the volunteers who are hurling colour powder and shout for some love. They’ll happily oblige. Sometimes with an entire box of it.
  • Bring a waterproof / dirtproof camera so you can capture the action and some priceless shots on the course. I ran with a GoPro Hero HD. A ton of people carried their smartphones in ziplock bags which worked fine. A few carried smartphones without ziplock bags. Not sure those phones still work…

You might be wondering how you clean all that colour off. Well, it comes off pretty easily, but 36 hours post-race and my buddy Dave’s inner ear is still stubbornly blue and my feet look like they’ve actually been tie-dyed. It’s not for lack of scrubbing, let me tell you. Oh, and we’re still blowing blue boogers! Might sound gross, but it’s kinda like what you’d get if you surfed a rainbow and got dunked – souvenirs of a great day.

Would I recommend? Absolutely. It was Canadian Thanksgiving (Sunday, October 7th) and getting together with a big crew of mates to run and laugh our heads off was the perfect way to get it started. And, looking back over the 2012 race season which included obstacle races, half marathons and other more intense physical challenges, this was a fun way to cap it off before we start thinking about winter sports.

Dave, TK and me

Dave, TK and me

Stair Climbing for the Win! /  by Jonas Caruana

On the weekend, I participated in the WWF CN Tower Climb: a timed race up the stairs of the CN Tower in Toronto, the tallest freestanding structure in North America at 553.33m.  The event is a fundraiser for the World Wildlife Fund, whom Training Mobs partnered with to help promote and to prepare participants in advance with stair-climbing specific mobs.

The race itself involves climbing 1,776 stairs; 144 flights. You get sent up in small groups about every minute so as not to clog the stairwell. According to the official results released yesterday morning, there were 4,343 individual times recorded and at 13m 06s, I was 33rd fastest. 

Going into the race, I’d had limited training, considered myself “out of shape” compared to my personal fitness benchmarks and had no idea how to tackle that many stairs – so this one fell into the “have a crack at it and let’s see how we go” bucket. All I knew was that I seem to cross my anaerobic threshold somewhere around a heart rate of 175 bpm - and that if I blew past that too early, I’d be toast.

So the first 40 flights I’m thinking “This is a race, I’m gonna run these!” and at a steady but not crazy cadence, am hopping up stairs two at a time, taking a one at a time break every several flights for mini-recovery.

But when I got to that 40th flight, I was already starting to feel the burn and knew I had to change strategy. So I settled back into a steady stepping between stairs, taking two at a time, and grabbing the rails to help pull myself up. Another guy passed me and I paced up to stay with him, and we went the next 40 flights or so together.

Having passed the halfway mark and seeing how quickly the flights were going by, I overtook my pacer, urged him to come with me and started to amp things up. Before I knew it I had 20 flights to go and I could hear people shouting at me from above telling me I was almost there, and next thing I knew I was handing my timing card (yep, physical timing card!) off to a volunteer and taking the last few steps to the finish.

I didn’t go all out at the end because I had to be on my feet and bursting with energy for the next 5 hours of promoting at the Training Mobs stand, so it felt great to finish strong and still have plenty left in the tank; I was nowhere near the puke zone.

How would I play it differently next time? I’d be steadily stepping - not hopping - between stairs from the beginning. I’d use the rails, and go early to make sure I got a clear stairwell like I did this time. And I’d leave it all on the stairwell and push to the puke zone by the top (I barely spent any time in my anaerobic zone). Next time, my goal is a sub-11 minute time.

The fastest guy I saw did it in 10:06, and he looked like the kind of guy that would just float up the stairs. He was completely nonchalant about his 10 minute time and calmly mentioned that – given a clear stairwell – he’d easily knock another minute or two off that time. Looking at this guy, I believed him!

Overall, the event was great. The volunteers were many and all super helpful and nice: I lost count of how many times I was told “great job!” and “thanks for your support”. Small gestures; but they made a huge different to the guest experience. The card-based timing system’s a bit old school but I was told that this year they were testing electronic timing and hopefully next year that’s how they’ll roll for everyone.

Would I recommend the event? Absolutely. It’s got high novelty factor and I get a total kick out of walking down the streets of Toronto, looking up at the CN Tower and thinking “f*** yeah, I raced up that thing!”. It was also a really cool way to make my very first trip up the Tower – and the view from the top is incredible.

Worth it. Totally worth it!