Patience, Grasshopper

"Good things come to those who wait"
"Patience is a virtue"
"Slow down and smell the roses"

All of these well-known and frequently-used quotes extol the virtues of slowing down. So why is it in the 21st Century, we all want things to happen NOW? Cell phones let us communicate with our friends, family and work wherever, whenever. We can Tweet the whole world our current status. Hungry? There's probably a fast-food joint right around the corner or if that's too unhealthy you can grab an organic meal-replacement bar instead. Marshall McLuhan would have a field day in 2009 ... (if you are not familiar with Marshall McLuhan or his philosophies, I encourage you to check out the link. You may find it interesting!)

I received a Thank-You card in the mail the other day ... The mail!!! It sat there quietly amongst various flyers for take-out restaurants and carpet cleaning waiting to be discovered. The same words could have been emailed just as easily. The fact that the sender decided to use this method of communication says as much as the message itself - the author took her time composing her message without the benefit of a delete key, addressed the envelope and took it to a mailbox. Quite different from "firing off" an email. And, the card still sits on my fireplace mantle.

I resisted buying a digital camera for some time. I have had my old-school film Canon Rebel TI for 6 years now and I wouldn't trade it in for even the most sophisticated digital SLR. I love spending time composing and shooting my photos, which I realize you can still do with a good digital SLR. What I love just as much is picking up my photos from the processing lab, getting them home, looking at them and reliving the experiences all over again.


So why did I give in and get a digital camera? Well, there are times when I would like to have a photo quickly, to post on my blog, for example. There are also times when it is not convenient to pack an SLR, 2 lenses, film and other accessories around with me. So when I saw this camera in a points catalogue, I couldn't resist. The clincher? It's waterproof ...

Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of things that frankly we can't move fast enough on - finding cures for life-threatening, -altering and -ending diseases; agreeing on solutions for seemingly senseless wars and securing alternate fuel sources, to name but a few. But there are many instances in daily life where faster does not necessarily mean better.

Survey says ...

A few weeks into my training moratorium, I figured it was a good time to take stock.

PHYSICALLY - Obviously, this is where the most change has occurred. There have been equally as many positive as negative effects. A few of the more notable ones: Positive: my feet have been hurting less than in the recent past. Negative: I already feel a bit weaker / less fit. Positive: my calves are happy for the first time that I can remember! Negative: nutrition. I always find it easier to maintain good nutrition when I'm training.

EMOTIONALLY - This has been tricky ... On the one hand I am way more relaxed about my injury and its impact on my goals. However, training has always been a good way for me to manage stress. I come up with my best ideas, solve problems or clear my mind of the day's chaos when exercising. Admittedly, I have had a hard time finding a replacement for this. Many of my friends are very active in triathlon or other competitive sport and I do find myself getting a bit upset when they start talking about their summer race plans or training.

INTELLECTUALLY - I can't say that I'm smarter or less smart as a result of the change in my training situation. But, I also know that "smart" isn't the only thing that fits into this category. HOW you think is more important. I knew full well that dropping my goals for this summer was the best thing to do, yet I fought it. Just accepting the need to change plans wasn't good enough; this is why I've had to come up with a list of things to do. I have managed to keep several plants alive. As small as my garden is, I have had to give it some attention.

SOCIALLY - I am a bit of an introvert. Training has become a way for me to connect with other (like minded) people and I do miss this aspect. So, I've had to go outside my comfort zone. I've invited myself over to friends' to watch hockey and I've invited friends over for dinner. With summer coming up I will have to find other ways to get myself out of the house.

SPIRITUALLY - Not sure where I stand here. There has been a lot going on in my life recently that makes me feel like I am in a bit of a "spititual deficit". Training has always helped me reconnect spiritually, grounded me.

NOT training has been an interesting challenge for me. This will be the first summer in over 5 years that I won't be racing. It makes me wonder if perhaps I was relying on it a little too much.

Slight change of plans

Things change. I don't think there's anyone out there who would be able to successfully argue this point. Sometimes things change for the better, sometimes for the worse. Sometimes we initiate change, sometimes we resist it. Regardless of these fine points, it happens.

So, given that introduction, it may not come as a surprise that things have changed for me. For better or for worse? I have yet to figure that out. Was I resistant? Yes. Have I accepted it? Mostly.

One thing that HASN'T changed recently is the status of my injury. I still have chronic plantar fasciitis, but instead of in one foot, it is in both - so I guess that IS a change! Anyhow, in an attempt to maintain some sort of connection to the racing world, I had decided to put Seattle to Portland Ride and Lake Cowichan Swim on my schedule for this year. Unfortunately I was not able to maintain the necessary volume, even early on in the pre-season. The result? I was experiencing a fair amount of pain and more importantly I was getting frustrated. To make matters more interesting, I will be starting prolotherapy this week and it will greatly hamper my ability to train this summer. When I finally asked Rob (one of my fabulous trainers at Innovative Fitness) "What's the point?", he knew I was done. So, he benched me. No swimming, no riding, no working out, no event spectating - nothing. I felt like I had just been fired from a job.

That was about three weeks ago. During this time (and I've have LOTS of it!) I have had to do some homework: to come up with a list of things that I can do this summer with these loose criteria:

I will be able to do it (I will have to be off my feet a bit this summer)

I will enjoy doing it

Easy to execute - no major planning involved

At first I was completely stumped. Almost EVERYTHING I enjoy doing involves walking, riding, hiking, training of some sort, or just being on my feet. To say I was not happy with this new direction would be an understatement. I sat, ruminated, moped, I even looked for sympathetic friends who would tell me "Oh no, you need to keep going!" Much to my surprise my friends were supportive if not excited about the "new plan".

So the list has been started, and a couple of items have even been checked off (like writing my Blog!) It is a fairly fluid list - I add, delete, edit items almost daily. I will share it over the next little while, and hopefully some of you will join me!

So while the description of this Blog explains my ultimate goal of swimming the English Channel, and my training efforts leading up to that event, I can honestly say that it still is my long-term goal. I've just had to put it in my back pocket for a while (perhaps in a pair of jeans that doesn't quite fit right now!) I am making NO predictions as to when that, or any other event, will happen. So if you've been lead to this Blog thinking that it is about long-distance swimming, triathlon, training or anything like that, know this: it still is. The focus is slightly different right now because guess what, things change.

2 Year Plan

The two-year plan ..

2008 English Bay (check!), Lake Cowichan
2009 DC2daEC
2010 click HERE not a whole lot of info yet, but that opening montage got me all fired up … already bookmarked on my web browser …

Bay Challenge Race Report

VOWSA Bay Challenge Race Report

“Nemo, I've a feeling we're not in Batchelor Bay anymore.”

I’m a swimmer. As far as sport goes, this is what comes naturally to me and this is what I’m relatively good at. There is a certain feeling I get when I’m in the water. It is one of those feelings that is hard to describe; part Zen, part power, part humility. All of those mixed in with a lot of respect. Sometimes respect for the water has to take precedence, and today’s event was a prime example.

Because of ongoing problems with my foot, this year I decided to return to my roots with the goal of swimming English Bay. As the crow flies, the swim from Sandy Cove in West Vancouver across to Kits Beach is about 9 km. Unfortunately I’m not a crow. More on that later. Add currents, shipping channels and cold water and you’ve got yourself quite a goal to accomplish.

The mandatory pre-race meeting Saturday night was quick and to the point. Boat drivers and crew members were reminded that their job is to monitor swimmers for hypothermia, stay out of the way of other teams and to make sure their swimmers are eating and staying hydrated. And to watch out for freighters. We found out that an out-bound freighter was scheduled to be passing under Lion’s Gate at around 8:30 am which meant that things could get interesting. Meyrick and I quickly decided that this only added to the bad-assness of the event and we would deal with it (in other words get the hell out of its way) accordingly.

Like any good endurance athlete, I had a race plan all figured out. Hold between 1:40 - 1:50 per 100m, eat every 30 minutes and to negative split and I should be crossing the finish line around 2:45. That was the plan at least. It seems though, that Neptune had plans of his own.


On the way to Sandy Cove - Pre Race


Chris - skipper


Meyrick - Photographer, bottle thrower, cheerleader

Race day weather was almost perfect; high overcast skies (makes sighting a bit easier and it is easier on my pale crew!), no wind and calm seas. The water temperature felt a bit colder than usual, but after a few minutes it was fine. The first third felt great. I settled in to a nice pace, I had a good line all figured out and I was getting good air (breathing, that is). I stopped for my first feed (Carbo-Pro and Ultima) at around 30 minutes then again around an hour. Just after this point things started getting a bit challenging. As I got into the shipping channel the water temperature dropped a bit and the seas picked up. Nothing too bad, but enough to give me grief. According to Chris (my very skilled skipper), the chop wasn’t coming from any direction in particular, instead it was disorganized; coming from all angles and at different frequencies. To deal with this I had to “choose my breaths” carefully and it seems this is a skill I can improve upon. I think for about 30 minutes 2 out 3 breaths had more water than air. I also found a couple of times I’d go to catch (the first part of the stroke when your hand enters the water) and instead of grabbing water, I found air (not helpful to a swimmer). But, I just kept my head down and pushed on.


Carbo-Pro on a string... mmmm!

There was a period of relative calm, but for how long I don’t know. Somewhere around 2 hours (give or take 15 minutes) Meyrick suggested that I pick up my pace. We were just over 5 km across and he was getting worried that I wouldn’t make the 4 hour cut-off time. This was not part of the plan! I listened though, and felt I was making good headway. I found out afterwards that there was a very strong surface current today. This might explain the “drift” I was experiencing. I felt like I was moving forward, but I was actually moving somewhat sideways. This would also explain the wide arc that added a few hundred meters on to my swim.

At three hours, my arms were done. I really had to focus on rolling my body to take some of the pressure off my shoulders. It turned into a bit of a mantra: “roll ... roll … roll…” At 3:44 I glanced over at the boat and Meyrick yelled “10 minutes!” If I didn’t make it to the swim buoys at Kits Beach within 4 hours, I would run the risk of being plucked out of the water by the Lifeguards. I gunned it. I am not a sprinter. I absolutely suck at 50 m intervals in the pool and 100s aren’t my forte either. Today, however, I called upon every fast-twitch muscle fiber in my body to get me across that buoy line. Despite what felt like a lot of thrashing around in the water, I made it inside the buoy line and across the finish line in just over 4 hours. I was very shocked when one of the medical personnel told me that I was one of the few who made it. So it WASN”T just me having a tough time of it out there…


Finishing kick... near the buoy line

This is a very challenging event. I expected it to hurt (my longest openwater swim up to today was 6 km in 2 hours) and I expected to be challenged by the water. I did NOT expect the mental game to be as hard as it was. Imagine running (or riding) across a landscape that affords no perspective; there are no trees, no other people and absolutely nothing changes under your feet (or wheels). Take away the connection you have with the earth (by way of your feet or wheels) and this is getting close to how it feels to swim in the open water for 9+ km. I had to start off by sighting on something that was almost 10 km away from me so I really had no idea where I was in relation to it. Even when I got closer to the beach, I was having a hard time figuring out distances. Was I 1000 m away or was I only 400 m away? I remember thinking a couple of times “Am I actually moving forward?”

In the end, I got through it (without having to deal with any freighters, by the way). It was definitely slower than anticipated, but considering the conditions, today was about finishing. The winner of today’s event is incredibly fast and strong and his swim time was well over an hour slower than his last year’s time. The only record that got broken this morning was for the longest crossing so I’m glad I didn’t break any records today.

I would like to give a HUGE “thank you” to my crew Chris and Meyrick. Without them, I would not have been allowed to enter this race. Thanks as well to Kevin for driving out to Kits and giving me a lift back to Sewell’s Marina … the though of getting in a little boat for the trip back did not go over to well with my stomach!

Photo Gallery


Pre Race Briefing


VOWSA Organizer


Deb - mid-bay.... Lion's Gate Bridge in the background


Sighting - Deb went straight all day.... (*Another guy kept unintentionally turning around and heading back to West Van... must have been a long swim for him.)


About 2/3 through with downtown in the background


#3 - Eye of the Tiger!

*All photos and captions by Meyrick Jones

Ironman Canada 07 - Race Report

As I approach the Ironman Canada finish line, it is hard not to notice the emptiness of Lakeshore Boulevard; the crowds have gone home after their tiring day of cheering and encouraging, the fences are almost all down and the finish line is being packed up. There is no voice over the speakers announcing my arrival. The timing clock is still going though, and it shows my time – just over 17 and a half hours – 30 minutes past the official cut-off time. It is one of the best moments of my life.

I had never thought of the day as a race, more like a test of the months of training – to see if I was in fact capable of completing the 3.8 km swim, 180 km ride and 42.2 km run. I knew the day was going to be physically challenging, but I had no idea how hard it was going to be mentally and emotionally.

Ask any triathlete and they will probably tell you that the swim is their weakest of the three disciplines, as well as their least favourite. Swimming is my strength, so the thought of completing the swim in Lake Okanagan with 2700 people, the largest swim start in Ironman history, didn’t faze me. I finished the swim in a little over an hour, 7^th in my age group and 403^rd overall. Of course I didn’t know my official position as I got on my bike, but I could tell I had beaten some very strong racers out of the water as they started catching me on the bike. It was hard to not follow their pace in the excitement, but I knew I had to settle into my own tempo otherwise I’d be in for a very rough day.

I was having one of my best rides in a long time. I was able to keep a comfortable and steady pace all the way to Osoyoos. Richter Pass felt more like a bump in the road instead of the 11 km hill that it is. I was above my planned pace at the half-way point and I was feeling strong and confident. At 140 kilometres, things started going badly for me. The winds had been ferocious, greatly reducing my speed and for some reason I was having problems with swelling in my hands, making it almost impossible to get water, fuel and electrolytes out of my bottles. The result was that my hamstrings were in spasm and I ended up having to walk up a good portion of the gruelling climb to Yellow Lake. A race official reminded me of the 5:30 cut-off time and at this point I was worried that I wouldn’t make it. I was terrified at facing the crowds and my supporters if I didn’t make it, so I pushed through the pain and made the cut-off with minutes to spare.

The marathon is an out-and-back, so you get to see people on their way back in as you head out, or vice-versa for the faster athletes. As I headed out onto the course, many runners were already approaching the final stretch into the finish line. I had a hard time believing that these were some of the people I beat out of the water. I wished I was one of them but as I started seeing friends on their way back in, their words of encouragement perked me up.

Because of a stubborn injury to my foot, my plan was to walk the entire marathon, only running until the very end. By about 10 miles, I knew that finishing within the 17 hours was going to be almost impossible; I did the math over and over in my head hoping that I had miscalculated. I was at my lowest point of the day and I questioned continuing and was angry with myself for undertaking such a huge challenge. By the half-way point I had a decision to make: carry on and finish after midnight, or stop. Either way I would show as a “DNF” in the results.

The decision to keep going was easier than I thought it would be. I knew that if I stopped, I would never be able to live with myself so I fought through the physical and mental fatigue that was quickly setting in and kept my pace and my spirits up as best I could. Dustin and Terri came out to find me and as they drove alongside me, I began feeling more and more excited about finishing. My spirits were definitely rising.

When the fireworks that signify the official end of Ironman started, I was still about two miles away from the finish line. I thought watching the fireworks from the wrong side of the finish line would be hard; a reminder that I hadn’t finished within the official time. But as I watched them light up the sky, I knew what my reality was – that I had finished Ironman Canada and I was going to cross the finish line with my coaches, my best friend and another friend who had also raced that day. I couldn’t have asked for a better ending.

Ironman is more than a one day event. It is months of intense training. It is getting up before dawn almost every day to go to the gym or to the pool or out for a long ride or run. It is having priorities that sometimes don’t fit with your friends’. It is about making a commitment to yourself and following through with it every day, even when your body or mind isn’t on board. And even though you spend race day alone, it isn’t a solo event; you only get through it with a support team. My support team is so huge that it would be impossible to mention everyone by name without missing someone. So to the following I give my deepest thanks: to my amazing family, for their never-ending support and understanding; to my many friends, for putting up with early weekend nights and for joining me on early weekend rides and swims; to my coaches, trainers and RMT, for keeping me motivated, strong and limber. You all got me to the finish line.

Just after finishing. Not sure I knew where I was at this point.

Me & Karen enjoying a post-race brunch complete with bubbly. We fell asleep about 20 minutes later.