Lesley Rasmussen

Bigger Than Me

2011-02-07T15:54:00.003-05:00

Selfish is a word often used by professional athletes when describing their own personalities. I can't say I disagree. Now, I'm not saying that athletes are all a bunch of selfish a-holes who don't care about anything or anyone other than themselves; but I do think that to be a sucessful athlete there has to be a certain level of self-focus.
Actually, I believe this applies not only to athletes but to the human race in general. The majority of us are programmed to think of ourselves before others. Most people, especially parents may turn a blind eye to this statement thinking "How can I put myself before my child?" But honestly, how can you take good care of someone else if you don't first look after yourself? Anyway, that is a different topic.

My point is, that although some people race and compete while raising money for various charities or other good causes; the majority of us race for reasons none other than ourselves.
I have completed my share of goodwill races; raising and donating funds to a good cause. But most of the time, in the forefront of my mind, I race for nothing and nobody bigger than myself.
Today, I want to share a quick story from Ironman Canada this past Summer.
In the final days leading up to the race, Tim, Ian and I had several visitors to our condo in Okanagan Falls; a few guys who had come just as far as me to take on the IM challenge.
One of those folks was a a middle-aged guy named Glenn. Glenn had been seeing a chiropractor in Mississauga for a while to treat his injured hamstring and decided that he wasn't happy with the treatments he was getting. A friend had recommended Tim to him and so he paid Tim some visits along with his buddies to get a few pre race tune-ups.
While on the treatment table Glenn and I shared stories about our treatment, pain management strategies, and our fears about the race ahead of us. At one point Glenn told me that his plan for the marathon was to walk parts, if not most of if since his hamstring was so bad. "Brave man", I remember thinking. I too, had considered walking instead of risking my hamstring but my stubborn side had talked me out of it.

After a few days of treatment, Glenn and I wished each other well in our IM pursuit and of course, with our injuries and went our own way to get ready for the day ahead.
Glenn finished his race (his first IM) in under 15 hours. I remember seeing Glenn on the run course, staying strong and walking it out.
Glenn has been in to see Tim at the office a few times since IM, but I haven't seen him since race day.

Last week while putting some miles on my trainer, I was flipping through some magazines during my warm-up and came across this letter from Glenn:

"My name is Glenn Van Zeumeren and I am 43 years old. This summer I completed my first Ironman Canada in Penticton in 14:52. Shortly after the race I got an infection from a small cut and, after various attempts to fix wit with drugs, I was admitted to the hopsital with infections and severe muscle pains and an inability to walk. Three weeks into the hospital stay I was diagnosed with MDS (Myelodysplasia) which is a bone marrow disorder that affects the bone marrow's ability to produce proper red (oxygen carrying), white (infection fighting) and platelets (blood clotting).
Apparently I have had this for some time and Ironman deflated my immune system enough to hospitalize me. In hindsight, it was a real blessing that the race forced the issue and made for a quicker diagnosis. My doctor was amazed that I even completed the race with such low red blood cells.
The reason I am writing is that I am now in another Ironman battle to fight the disease. The only cure for this is a bone marrow stem cell transplant. I am urging other triathletes, their friends and families to step up and help me in this race. In Canada, you can visit onematch.ca to sign up on the national registry. You don't even have to leave your home, a swab kit is mailed to you. Follow the swabbing instructions and send it to Ottawa. It's that simple and you could save a life."
Glenn Van Zeumeren
Mississauga, Ont.

After reading Glenn's letter, I visited onematch.ca and filled in the five minute questionnaire. A few days later I received a phone call from Canadian Blood Services. Ten minutes and a few questions after that, I was off the phone and I'm now watiting for my buccal swab kit to arrive in the mail.
I encourage anyone who reads this to do the same. It takes only five minutes, and it could save the life of someone you know, or even someone you don't. Someone bigger than Me. Someone bigger than You.

iRun! (Even if it is with the odd walk break.....)

2011-01-30T13:50:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year~

..And what better way to ring in the New Year than with hockey?! (says the crazy hockey mom)...
Ethan's 8th birthday fell just two weeks before Christmas, and in the middle of his Silver Stick tournament in Sudbury.
We surprised him with tickets to the Jan 1 Sabres vs Bruins game in Buffalo.

Ethan taking the ice on his birthday

Miller Rules!

The early days of the New Year also brought on a few changes to my training. After finishing off countless rounds (10 months worth) of injections in to my hamstring and adductor tendons, it was time to put the newly reformed leg to the test.

I wish I could say that I hopped off the table 100% better, but unfortunately that is not the case, and it may never be. I have come to accept that I may never be able to go out and run a standalone just-for-fun marathon again; and it will be a challenge to pull off a decent marathon as part of an IM event. Sometimes 'as good as it gets' just has to be good enough. This may be one of those times.

They key for me in the coming months will be to keep my injured areas as happy as possible while avoiding re-injury through continued treatment and maintenance. My run training will need to change as well. Quality over quantity will be the focus. Days of long runs and logging endless miles will be few and far between.

After a 14 month running layoff, I couldn't exactly just go out and run.

First I underwent a full body bio mechanical evaluation then a run gait analysis to determine what corrections could be made to my run form and stride. The idea behind this was to reduce the likelihood of re injury and of course to minimize the pain to the existing injured areas.

The biomechanical eval proved to be incredibly useful in uncovering some weaknesses and creating a plan to overcome them.

The run gait analysis led to a complete overhaul of my running gait. Learning to run with a completely different gait while coming off a serious injury scared me. However, seeing that I was basically starting from scratch anyway , this was probably the best time to make these critical changes.

Out came the orthotics I've been wearing since running cross country in high school (not the same pair...I changed them twice yearly), and away went my beloved Asics 2100 series shoes.

These changes in themselves were huge. My feet felt robbed of the familiarity these running staples provided. Next came the stride overhaul. As a heavy heel striker, making a transition to forefoot striking was difficult and felt completely foreign to me at first.

On the advice of my coach I headed to Running Free to pick up a pair of Newton's. "I need to most aggressive model....the ones for the biomechanically retarded" I said.

Once home with the new shoes, I headed down to the treadmill for my first run in as long as I can remember (Ironman Canada excluded) to try out my new leg, my new shoes, and my new gait.

The plan, if my leg allowed, was to very gradually build up my run tolerance on the treadmill taking frequent walk breaks. If the injury heated up too much, I would be forced to shut down the workout.

That first run on the treadmill was successful, and the next and the next. Over the course of a few weeks, my coach worked me up to 10/1's , then 15/1's.

The progress may seem small, but for me it's pretty huge. My friends at the pool have congratulated me on my progress and offered sympathy for my 10/1 situation. (Thanks Bern.)

Hopefully it's very temporary, but in the meantime my patience will be on high thanks to the 'whatever it takes' attitude I've been using to get through this ordeal.

I have since even had a few runs outside and was able to do a double V02 Max. I would love to say that it's easy and I feel great. Aerobically, yes, the running is easy, and it does feel great to think that maybe I'm nearing the end of this mess.

The challenge for me is the new gait. I have to mentally reprogram my brain to run a completely different way than I'm used to. Gone are the days where I plug in my ipod and just go out and run. Now I'm forced to be tuned into my every step from start to finish. Of course there is also the worry that the pain will come back or I will re-injure; completely foiling plans for my 2011 season. It is a volatile situation and every workout has to be taken seriously and done exactly right or I could lose everything I have gained and possibly more.

In terms of treatment, I have started a new set of weekly injections that unfortunately come with some nasty side effects.

Weird skin rashes, night sweats and midnight trips to the bathroom to toss my cookies followed by what can be hours of dry heaves and ulcer-like stomach pains are starting to take their toll. Thankfully, some nights I feel no effects and can sleep through the night soundly.

The idea behind these treatments is that they will block the formation of any more scar tissue.
It will all be worth it to me if the treatment works. Pukey, sweaty nights and all.

Time Flies

2010-11-19T14:53:00.002-05:00

A few months have passed since my last post. It's not that I've had nothing to post, I've just been having a hard time getting around to posting my thoughts. Even though my training is still, yes STILL on hiatus; I have been busy. Stupid busy. Between day to day goings on with the twins (who are now in swimming lessons and well on their way to becoming strong swimmers like Mom), my daughter's swim team practices and lifeguard classes, my son's AA hockey and goalie clinics, and my weekly and sometimes bi weekly muscoskeletal ultrasounds and injections, there has been very little blogging time for me.
To be fair, I did draft most of the dirty details from Ironman Canada, but never got around to posting them. Oops...
Better late than never, I suppose.

My decision to do IMC this year was a last minute semi-impulsive one. I hadn't run a step in over 10 months, and my ride training was sporadic because of all my injections. The only thing I really had going for me was my swim; even though I had a fractured forearm at the time.
However, great memories of the previous year and my undying determination got the the best of me and I decided to go and see what came of it. I figured I would *gasp* walk *gasp* parts of the marathon if it came down to that.
I took a week off from my injections and headed out to Penticton with Tim and Ian.

Me & Mantis getting ready for our ride

I'd love to say race morning went off without a hitch, but that wouldn't exactly be the truth. I had a wetsuit malfunction ten minutes before the start which left me with a 6 inch rip in the left arm of my wetsuit. I kept calm, headed for the water and hoped to hell that the rip didn't get any bigger during the course of the swim.
My plan for the swim was to be conservative, keep off to the side and start in the middle of the pack. Little did I know that Ian was in kahootz with a fellow athlete of mine who forced me to the front of the pack, where in honesty is exactly where I should start based on my swim speed.
Doug brought me up to the first row, torn wetsuit and all and took off back to the comforts of mid pack.
I stood there for a minute before the start gun fired and took in my surroundings. It was a clear morning and I was surrounded by mountains and lots of..... men. Yes...as far as my eye could see, only men were brave enough to start where I was starting. "This will be interesting" I thought as the gun fired and I surged out into the chilly open waters of Lake Okanagan.
The start of any Ironman event is a shark feeding frenzy of arms, legs, bubbles and bodies. I trudged through the bodies in search of a little bit of open water to stretch myself out into a proper swim form, hoping with all hope that nobody knocked me in the forearm.

Swim start. I'm up front..somewhere

At last I found a little bit of room to swim, only to discover the guy I was swimming beside seemed to be having a voice conversation under water as he exhaled each breath. The voice bubbles quickly became very irritating. I picked up my pace to get away from him and focused on the rest of the swim course. Buoy by buoy I got closer to shore.
I crossed the timing mat after 1:00:25. Decent for having a fractured arm and a busted up wet suit.

Started with the men, finished with the men

My ride started out strong, but close to the 60km mark, my back reminded me of the herniated discs that like to cause me some grief every once in a while. Apparently this was going to be one of those times. "It's ok" I thought..."nothing I haven't dealt with before". On I rode.

80km into the ride. Ian is yelling at me in the background

As I was leaving Silkameen valley, about 100-120km into the ride, some inclement weather came through the mountains. Insane headwinds and hail had many riders pulling off to the side of the road. I just wanted to get to T2. I rode on, strong as I could.
Tim and Ian met me at a few points along the course and followed me through some of the crappy weather. Safety was definitely a concern on the course. I heard later, that there were a few really nasty crashes.
By the time I got back to T2 my back was so sore I wondered if I'd be able to stand upright, but I was glad to be off the slick roads.

My transition from bike to run was as expected; pretty rough. I had zero run training in over 10 months, a lower back that didn't really feel like supporting my efforts at the time and 26.2 miles to cover. The outlook was sketchy, and only one thing was for sure....it was going to be a long run.

The pain in visible in my face

I really had no plan for my run. I knew that I wouldn't be able to run fast, but I also knew that walking would only prolong the misery. I figured unless I was about to die of pain overload, there was little point in slowing down to a walk. The first couple kilometers must have resembled something of a decrepit shuffle; that's certainly how it felt for me. After I got into somewhat of a rhythm, my back realized I wasn't giving in to the pain and decided to let me do what I was setting out to do.
Somehow I reached the 21km turnaround, and was on my way back. The winds were picking up again and I could see that the hail was on its way once more.
Luckily, I reached the finish line before the next bout of bad weather hit.
After 11:35:08 (20 minutes faster than last year despite the horrible excuse for a marathon...thanks Ian!!), I finished.
It wasn't exactly what Ian and I had worked for and hoped for, but not bad for a last minute Ironman.

It was a long journey to get to this place

A few days after IMC was over, we returned home. A few days after that, I turned 30. ( Ick.)

Me, E & E celebrating my 30th

After my birthday, it was time to rest. My doc and I decided it was time to take a few months off, do a few procedures and give my body a chance to rebuild without the stresses of training.
It was tough at first but thankfully, October brought another exciting time which took my mind off the physical state of my body for a while.
The second week of October Tim and I headed to Kona for the low-key private wedding we had been planning.

Everything went off without a hitch and we were married at sunset by a fellow Ironman. The ceremony was beautiful, and best of all it was private. (With the exception of a few sea turtles who sauntered onto the beach).

Here are a few shots from the big day..

Our stay in Kona happened to coincide with the IM World championship weekend. I felt fortunate to see so many pro athletes out on the course. On our way back from breakfast in Hualalai that morning, we were actually driving alongside the likes of Craig Alexander, Andy Potts and Tim DeBoom as they made their way back to T2. We were so close, I could have opened my window and touched them. I felt like a twelve year old girl at a Justin Bieber concert. Eeeeeeee!

Since our return from Hawaii, I have resumed my routine of weekly injections, and more diagnotic testing. I'm far from able to consider myself in training because of my treatments and the overall lack of understanding behind my symptoms.
Although my recovery has come a long way in a year, it is still unclear how far I may have yet to go. In the back of my mind I hold on to the hope that the end will soon be in sight.

Attempting to keep up with my kids certainly helps to pass the time. If ever I need a distraction, I don't need to look much further than one of the arenas or training pads within an 80 km radius. Ethan is on the ice at least once a day evry day of the week. Keeping up with his training and following his games always motivates me to keep my thoughts positive.
Whether I like it or not, time is flying.

Ethan mastering his domain

Lonely But Never Alone

2010-08-18T16:58:00.001-04:00

You can ask anybody who's done one and they will likely tell you that the road to Ironman is long, painful and often lonely.
Today I wanted to take a few minutes to write a little note of thanks to the people who's support I simply could not do without.

To my "big" kids; Eleanor and Ethan....
Eleanor, your energy and enthusiasm are contagious. You don't know how often I think about you when the going gets tough for me. Knowing that you are proud of me for my achievements is huge motivation for me to keep going. (And those leg massages you often give me after my workouts.....I really look forward to those!)
Ethan, you are the strongest kid I know; and one of the strongest people I know. I draw from your strength whenever I'm feeling weak, and it always helps me to regain my composure and keep going. Whether you know it or not, your dedication and motivation are admirable. Keep doing what you're doing and don't ever give up!

To my sweet liddle angels Griffin and Oliver,
Thank you for lighting my way. No matter how rough the road is or how dark and deep the water seems, I know you are waiting for me at the end of it all. Your faces light my way and keep my fire burning bright. You are my "twinkling stars".....thank you for keeping me safe ;)

Tim, you are my greatest supporter and my best friend. Thanks for always standing by me. Even when we don't agree on everything, I know that you are always there and in the end you will support me and my goals; no matter what they may be or how often they may change. Your optimistic words are often just what I need to hear when things get rough. Thank you for always having my back.

To Ian....thanks for kicking my butt over and over and over....
I know I'm stubborn, and you've had to put up with a whole lot of my...let's call them "quirks" since we met. Your persistence with me is paying off and I owe you a big thanks for all those butt kickings; mental and physical. I know it would have been easier for you to turn your back and walk away while I've been sidelined for the past ten months; but instead you stood by me and you did so with confidence. Thanks....you're a great coach and a good friend.

To the extensive group of professionals who have helped facilitate my healing process thus far; there aren't enough words to express my gratitude to you all. My sport and my goals are such a huge part of who I am, I would be unrecognizable without all of this. Thank you for helping me keep my dreams alive.

And of course, no note of thanks would be complete without a note to the people who started it all.
Mom and Dad, thank you for giving me life...for my lungs, my legs and the drive to do what I love to do. Thanks for all the start lines and the finish lines you stood beside, and even the ones you didn't. I know you were there with me even if I couldn't see you.
Thanks for making me me, and for allowing me to pass my best traits along to four completely new little people.

Even though I do most of my training alone and as a result I spend hours a day isolated from the rest of the world, it is comforting to know that I am never really by myself. At times I may feel lonely, but deep down I know that I am never really alone.

Just like Mom

2010-08-11T20:29:00.005-04:00

It sounds like a cheesy cliche, but it really is crazy how quickly kids grow up. It seems like every year that passes, time speeds up and they grow even faster...or maybe that's just me getting older. Ugh.
It can be hard to watch my kids gain more independence each day and become less dependent on me for... well anything really...with the exception of shuttling them to friends' houses, swim practices, endless hockey games and the odd soccer tournament.
But at the same time, it's great to watch them transform from kids into these little people with personalities, interests, strengths and faults...."real" people. It's can be amusing to watch them go about their day and pick out the ways they are like me and the ways they are like their Dad.

My only daughter, Eleanor is 10. I believe that makes her a "tween". Yikes. She is the oldest and is without a shred of doubt, 100% me. Everything from her looks to her interests, her taste in clothes and her personality is all me. She has my silly sense of humour that can sometimes push the boundaries of "over the top" into annoying territory. Lately I have found myself having to bite my lip when her sense of humor and talkative nature crosses that boundary...after all...she's getting it all from me...

Eleanor is not your typical "girly girl". Sure, she dabbles with her lip glosses and hair accessories and once in a while she enjoys getting all dressed up in a fancy dress. But for the most part, you will find her in comfy pants, hoodie and flip flops or running shoes. Just like me.

In her younger years, she gave dance classes, singing lessons, acting classes, gymnastics, and yoga a try. She had fun...Eleanor has fun anywhere she goes; but none of those things ever really grabbed her. She is a successful cross country runner, and enjoys being on her soccer team (but only the games...not the practices).
It wasn't until last year when she joined a swim team that she really found her niche. My GOD, this girl can swim. When I look back, I'm not sure why it didn't occurred to me earlier. She is long and lean; the perfect body type to be a successful swimmer. From and endurance standpoint, Eleanor is set. She can swim, bike, run, and talk without stopping for hours at a time. Another trait courtesy of me.
I enjoy taking her to the pool with me on occasion where I can get my swim done without worrying about her...I know she is just a few lanes over doing her own thing. I'm secretly waiting for the day that her swimming skills outweigh mine. I'll never hear the end of it....

My oldest son, Ethan is 7 going on 17. Sure, a lot of the time he acts like a regular 7 year old. Life for Ethan consists of video games and sports. But Ethan also has a maturity to him that amazes me. His adult sense of humor and thirst for "grown-up" knowledge often makes me step back and wonder if I have somehow missed 10 years.
Ethan has inherited a few of his quirks from me, but I have to give credit to his Dad here for most of what makes up Ethan.
The freakishly close resemblance between Eleanor and I is the same between Ethan and Tom. Everything from his looks, to his jokes and his mannerisms...and his incredible lust for chocolate and chocolate related products....and beer...and steak.....

From me, Ethan has inherited his drive to be in a state of constant improvement. He is always in practice mode, always looking for a way to be faster, stronger, better. It is a very admirable quality, but sometimes it comes with a silent dark side that I am always watching for with him. It can be dangerous. I know, because I've been there.
In many ways, Ethan is one of my idols. I really respect and admire the drive and maturity he posses at such a young age.

There are no two ways about it; Ethan is a jock. He is going into his second year of rep hockey as a goalie, and finishing up his first year of rep soccer. It doesn't stop there...he's already got his cross country tryouts planned and he has recently grown an interest in joining Eleanor's swim team. Ethan will engage in any conversation about any sport with anyone and seems to retain every piece of information he gains during these conversations. He can often be found watching sports highlights on TV in the morning and on TSN.com at random times throughout the day. He is known to spend an entire day outside with friends playing road hockey, soccer, and peeling around on his bike without so much as a request for a drink or a snack. I am envious of Ethan's constant stream of energy.

Every year for the past four years (with the exception of the summer the twins were born because well, let's face it...in terms of anything other than the twins; that summer was a write off), Ethan and Eleanor have taken part in what has become their annual triathlon.
Eleanor had a amazing time the first year. She had no fear and went at it as if she'd done it a thousand times before.

Eleanor is on the far right (pink bathing suit)...the one with hardly and teeth

I won't go into the dirty details of Ethan's race that year since he recalls his experience with casual humor as "really embarrassing". (Your secret is safe with me buddy....)

Thankfully, the next handful of races were by his standards, "awesome", including this year.
Ethan was nervous about his swim. He knows he could use some work on his endurance in the water although we had been practicing. He carries himself well in the water considering he's never had any formal lessons. I take him to the pool whenver possible and he has made some improvements. In the days leading up to his race, I reminded him that even if he's not a super fast swimmer, he is a strong rider and a good runner and that would allow him a few opportunities to make up for lost time in the water.

This year, he came out of the water in the middle of his pack and bolted in and out of T1 with the idea in his head that he could catch all the kids that beat him in the swim.

Blast off! Ethan's race really began after swim.

Both the kids had outgrown their old bikes this year and were fortunate enough to get multi speed MTB's as replacements. With some practice they figured out how to use the gears to their advantage and Ethan chewed up the bike course, passing all but one of the kids in his age group.


Approaching the finisher's chute.

Heading out of T1

Once off his bike, he drew upon his seemingly endless energy and kicked his run up into high gear. I knew he could run, but his pace surprised me. Ethan is a tall skinny guy and he can run! He blazed through the finishers chute in second place and even had enough energy at the end to give his ol' Mom some knuckles.


Way to go E!

Next up was Eleanor. I knew she was confident in her swim and rightfully so! She blasted off at the sound of the gun with amazing form and speed. Meters ahead of the second girl and right on the toes of the first place boy. She held her pace and her place and came out of the water on the heels of the first boy, smiling all the way....total Eleanor style.

Eleanor blasting out from the swim....not another kid in sight!

I followed her as she got herself ready in T1 and shouted helpful hints on how to make her transition faster. Soon enough she was out for her 6km ride and still holding her place. Her bike course consisted of 6 loops. She held her place for the first several loops, but then we noticed she seemed to have forgotten how to use the gears on her bike to her advantage. I could see that she was getting tired and I assume she rationalized using a higher gear becuase it felt easier....but it did slow her down and she was passed by one girl.
Still in high spirits entering T2 I could tell she was thirsty. I caught up with her as she started her 2km run way ahead of the next girl, and gave her some water. After a few huge slugs while keeping pace, she got a nasty side stitch. Despite my running ban, I decided to run alongside her to help her along. I knew she wanted to stop, but I also knew she wouldn't be very happy to be passed by any more girls. I offered her some hints on how to get relief from her stitch while running and reminded her that there was an aid station coming up after the hill, and she could splash some cold water over her head to cool down. She gave me that "you're crazy" look she always gives. Im very familiar with this look; I invented it. Tom used to refer to it as "stink face".

Once we got to the aid station, she called out for two cups of water. She chugged one and dumped the other over her head. (Afterward she admitted it was a good idea.)
With 1/2 a mile to go and the finish line ahead, she was getting tired. I ran beside her and encouraged her to work through the tired feeling; it would be worth it in the end. She did, and as she rounded the final corner I let her go and instructed her to use her long legs to sprint through the finish. Whoa...I should have said that sooner. She picked up her pace, stretched out her stride and was running like a deer toward the finish line. The final 400m was a head to head sprint between her and the boy ahead of her. An amazing effort on her part, but the boy won by a shoulder length.
An exhausted but happy Eleanor crossed the finish line and accepted her medal with pride.

Working hard to finish her run

Me with my heroes of the day!

'

All together it was a great day. After the race, the kids discussed the areas where they would like to improve for next year. Ethan talked about how he really wanted to get faster in the water, and Eleanor admitted she needs to work on her shifting. We headed back to our campsite and no sooner were the kids bikes unloaded from the car, they were back at it; riding with passion and purpose........ Just like Mom :)

What a Tool.....

2010-08-10T20:30:00.003-04:00

It's long established that I'm an injured soldier. Officially sidelined, out of the running so to speak.
But what is a driven, self-motivated triathlete like me to do when she is on a running hiatus?
Well, it just so happens that I came upon a swim/bike half iron distance race which runs alongside my favorite half iron distance race of the season.
I have to admit, I was a little reluctant to sign up for this one. I was sure it would feel just plain weird to swim and ride, and then.....stop?! But since I was in no position to be picky, I decided to take whatever taste of my sport I could get...and be happy about it.
In terms of training, things were looking pretty decent. Since I'd been laid off running for nine months, I'd had a training calendar filled with swimming and riding. Perfect!
If for nothing else, it looked like a good opportunity to try out Mantis; my brand spankin' new ride from Guru and Younique Cycles.

It was an early morning as we woke up the boys, packed up the hotel room and headed to the race site so I could get myself organized.

My swim went off without a hitch, with the exception of some pain in my left arm, which I would learn in a few days was due to a fractured Ulna.

Now....before I finish my race recap, let's rewind a few months and allow me to explain the fractured Ulna. Picture this....

I'm at home in the upstairs part of my house assembling a small shelving unit from IKEA. My project is 90% finished (and amazingly I've not had a single interruption from any child in my house), when one of the little wooden pegs refuses to slide in to its' little slot. At this point, the right thing to do would be to go down to Tim's workroom in the basement and search out a hammer and return to my project. However, this detour would almost certainly mean an interruption from one or more children and who knows what else?! Let's be realistic here...it could be days before I'm back upstairs with that hammer to complete my project. Besides, I saw a no- interruption record in the making and I couldn't let that slip away!
So, a few short blows to the side of the shelf with my forearm, and VOILA! My shelves were done, and a new household record set! I would have been a sucker had I gone downstairs for that hammer! HA! Strong women don't need tools!

Anyway back to the race.... I came out of the water leading the women in my race and was able to keep my lead on the bike for a while..until my seat post dropped forcing me to conform to a riding position much like that of a clown on a circus tricycle with aero bars. (No, I didn't have a multi -tool with me to fix my seat, and Yes, I usually carry one).

Needless to say, I lost my lead and struggled to get through the remaining 75 hilly km's that were left in my race. I don't know how the clowns do it....riding in that position really takes a toll on the medial quads.
By the time I got off my bike at the end of the race, I was unable straighten my legs, I was in pain and in tears. I used the boys' stroller as a crutch to get myself back into the lake to find some relief from the intense burning and swelling taking place above my knees. I stayed there for a while unable to move and too scared to assess the damage. Eventually the boys came in the water to keep me company, splashing around with a carefree innocence I wished I had at that moment.

I later found out that miraculously, I took home second place. But honestly, I couldn't have cared less. I knew that the recovery time from this experience would set me back. I was happy to take home the lessons learned from the day, heal my quads and move on.

A few days later while at my weekly hamstring repair appointment, I brought the arm pain up to my doc, who ordered a diagnostic ultrasound which promptly revealed a fractured Ulna. "Ugh, I'm such a tool" I admitted aloud. Stupid F$%*@! shelf!
So in conclusion, Yes, I should have gone downstairs to find a hammer. Nobody ever said us Ironman people don't have our lazy moments too!!

Until we meet again

2010-07-08T15:25:00.006-04:00

Oh, running. It's the sport I love to hate. So, there's a lie. I don't love hating it because I used to love it. Make sense?! So, I guess it's the sport I hate to hate. Let's just say I hate it. And, just in case my older kids (both of whom I'm trying to teach that "hate" is not a nice word to use) happen to read this; let's say that I "strongly dislike" running.

Once upon a time not so long ago I was a good runner, a strong runner. Me and running existed together in perfect harmony. Running was a chance for me to clear my head, focus my thoughts and temporarily carry me away from reality when life got the best of me.
But, the truth is that my body is not built for running.

It can be said that I have the body of a swimmer, a cyclist, or even the beginnings of a weight lifters' body. But a runner, I am not.
"Amazon woman" I believe is how my ex father in law used to refer to me. (Thanks for that Farfar). I have learned to embrace my hugeness and now see it as a positive. I am many a triathletes' worst nightmare.
Standing tall at 5'9" and a bit, and layered with bulky muscle, it can be said that running is probably the last sport I was meant to take part in. I'm ok with that. Running is the root cause of every sports injury I've logged to date. And of course, the reason why I've been sidelined for this season.

The very unfortunate part of all this is that running happens to make up 1/3 of the sport that I do love; triathlon. Take away running, and I'm out of triathlon. Now there is something; I am defenitely not ok with.

For the last nine months, I have been in treatment for various tears in my hamstring muscle and tendon tissue.
My weekly appointments have become a part of my routine; fitting nicely into my adapted training schedule.
I've also undergone a few procedures in an attempt to drain my ischiogluteal bursa and clear me of the bursitits that has been plaguing me for some time. As well as a proceudre to provide some relief to the herniated discs and spinal degeneration in my lower back.

At first, my injuries seemed fairly innocent and straightforward. But as the weeks progressed, turning into months, it became clear that we were dealing with so much more than a few simple tears. I don't think any of us were expecting me to require so many invasive procedures. Nobody really knew how bad it was. I watched the calendar pages turn knowing that every week of treatment needed was another week I would be out of training. And another race at stake.
.
At one point, Ian had given me a "drop dead running date" by which I had to start my run training for Ironman Canada in order to come out of the race with a good time. That date was two months ago.
Triathlon season is now well underway, and I have yet to lace up my running shoes. My season was over before it began.

Many people question my motivation through all of this. Why would I put myself through all that pain? For what, and is it all worth it? I won't lie. I have gone through some low periods where I have begun to question my own actions.
After all, I am a strong rider and swimmer; so maybe it's time I switch sports?!
I know that at some point, my triathlon career will need to come to an end. My body isn't made for that last leg, and given my laundry list of chronic conditions, the odds are not in my favor.

Call me stubborn, determined, crazy, or whatever else you will, but I have some unfinished business in this sport before I hang up my running shoes for good. There are some goals on my radar that I am not willing to let go of.

One thing I have learned through all of this is that there is not one thing in our lives that defines us as a person; it is a combination of everything we have a passion for that really makes us who we are.
How can I simply turn away from the thing I am most passionate about without fighting until the very end? Who knows...maybe in the end I won't win. But as with everything else in my life; I won't go down without a fight.

Luckily, my doctor listened to me plead my case and came up with a more aggressive treatment protocol for me going forward.
I may be out for this season, but I am determined to keep fighting my fight so I can get back to what I love and do what I need to do.

So, to all my comrades in the triathlon community; the next time you're struggling through a weak point in your race, or fighting those mental demons we all know too well; take a deep breath and consider yourself the luckiest person on the face of the earth. Know that I would do anything to feel what you're feeling.

I'll see you out there....one day.

The Value of a Rest Day

2010-04-26T09:24:00.013-04:00

Since the very beginning of my athletic days, the weekly "rest day" has always been a tough one for me. I don't know why. Maybe it's becuase I'm a naturally active person and I hate, I repeat, *hate* sitting still. Or maybe it's because I just can't find anything else to do that interests me enough to want to relax, or maybe it's becuase I'm afraid to be alone with my own thoughts. I don't know. But whatever the reason, the result is the same. Rest days suck. They are hard for me. Harder than running a marathon or racing a triathlon.

It's not that I don't understand that the human body needs a day (and *gasp* sometimes two) off from a rigorous training schedule to repair and heal damaged body tissues. And, it's not that I don't understand that *sometimes* a rest day can be good for one's mental health. I know all this. But still, resting is hard for me.

Over the years various people have encouraged me to take these weekly days off. Everyone from my husband du-jour, to doctors to coaches and everyone in between. There has been yelling, threats of injury, threats of sponsorship loss, and all sorts. So, I'm stubborn. This is not news.

Back in the early days I felt invincible. I wasn't going to get hurt, are you kidding me?! The more I train, I thought, the stronger I will become. This is often the mentality of an amateur athlete which is often replaced with a nasty injury of some sort. Miraculously, I reached the end of my first several years of amateur training and racing without injury. I was lucky.
But as my body aged and my training and level of competition increased, my luck started to run out. I started to get injured. It began with the odd stress fracture here and there. A bone scan would reveal a fracture or two, I would be ordered to rest, they would heal, and off I would go back to my wreck less ways of training. Only now, I felt I needed to "make up" for lost fitness over that period of healing. The cycle would repeat.... a few times. I became so familiar with the feel of a new stress fracture, I didn't even need the bone scan. I just knew..and I no longer cared. I just kept going. Ignoring pain became an art form, and one that I'm quite good at.

It wasn't until recently when I started to work with Ian; my current coach, that those rest days became a mandatory part of my weekly training calendar. During peak weeks, sometimes I see more than one. It's a nightmare. But it's important; I know. I don't have to agree with it, I just have to do it. People often ask me how I find the motivation to keep up with my training calendar. For me it's easy. It's those rest days where I find myself looking for motivation. Just get through that rest day Rasmussen. You can do it.

Just a few weeks ago, Ian busted me at the pool on a day I was supposed to be resting. He hauled me out of the water...in front of my swimming peers and we had a little spat on the deck...which turned into a verbal brawl in the parking lot. We made up after a few days, of course and things are good now.
But at the time, we were both very upset. He was mad because I had strayed from his well planned training week and of course he is worried about my current state of injuries. And I was mad because I didn't think that he understood where I was coming from.
It's not that I was being my stubborn self. Well, ok maybe that was a small part of it. But for me there are other demons that have to be faced on a day of rest. (This of course is another story for another time).

I certainly learned my lesson the next day when I headed back to the pool for my coached swim session with Ian. The workout he had for me that day was tough. I couldn't fake it. I was tired from the swim I had snuck in the day before, and it showed. It showed in the worst way possible; a slow, lagging time trial. My arms were burning after just a few thousand meters and I couldn't hide it. I came out of the water a few minutes; (minutes...not seconds) later than what was projected. It was shameful. I was devastated and embarrassed, Ian was satisfied with what was hopefully a lesson learned. Ya..point taken. Let's never speak of this again.

My sneak-a-swim took place during the most stressful week of the year. Come to think of it; that could be part of the reason why I went to the pool that day. I needed some extra stress relief. It was try out week in the world of rep hockey. Laugh if you will. I am a hockey Mom, and rep try out week for parents (especially goalie parents) is one of the most stressful events ever to be experienced. I promise.
Ethan handled it well last year, and I figured this year would be no different. I was 100% confident in my son's ability to score a spot on the AA team. Did I mention he had just been awarded a giant trophy for most improved Tyke player in his league for the '09-'10 season, and scouted by a top coach for a Gold level competetive Spring team?!
By the time the first day of tryouts rolled around, Ethan had accumulated 14 hours of goalie school over 11 consecutive days.
***Before I continue, please know that Ethan's Dad and I do not push him in his practices or games. We aren't those hockey parents. I don't wear a button with my son's hockey picture on it, I don't own an air horn, and I do not push my son beyond his ability or out of his own comfort zone. I have seen too many psycho hockey parents who are trying to live vicariously through their kids in the three and a half years Ethan has been playing. I will not be one of them.***
No, I don't think Ethan is the next Ryan Miller or Roberto Luongo, and the chances of any of the kids he plays with making the NHL are pretty low....let's be realistic here. But he is good, and he does work very hard. Whatever Ethan achieves he does so by way of his own motivation, practice and skill.
He has definitely inherited my athletic drive which can be both a blessing and a curse. It's bittersweet and I can only hope that as he gets older, he learns to manage it better than I ever did. I am still trying to figure it out; trying to find that sweet spot where I can train at a high level and know when and how to call it a day before it's too late. As an athlete, I understand. As a mother, I worry.

The first few days of try outs went very well, but by the end of the first week I could tell he was burning out. We watched him out on the ice and felt like we were looking at a different kid. He looked as if he either had no energy or he just didn't care. But this was Ethan...my Ethan. I knew he cared. I knew he REALLY cared. Luckily his performance that night was still good enough to grant him an invite back to the next and final tryout. We were all surprised. It was that bad.
After a few chats with Ethan, he revealed that the problem was that he was just really tired. Burnt out from being on the ice for two weeks straight at this point. As much as he loved it; he needed a day off. I knew it even if he didn't want to admit it.

I declared the two remaining days left until the last tryout to be hockey free days. Rest days. The next night, the two of us went out for dinner and a night out at Playdium. All fun..no hockey. We had a blast playing every game we could get our hands on. Other than a few rounds of air hockey, the weekend was hockey free.

When Ethan hit the ice that Sunday for his last tryout, the transformation was amazing. He was back in full force stopping every shot that came his way and skating through the drill sets with energy and gusto.
Needless to say, Ethan earned his well deserved spot on the AA team for the upcoming season. All his work had paid off and the weekend of rest had done wonders.

I have made a mental note of this experience and plan to look back on it whenever I question whether or not I really need my weekly rest day. Thanks Ethan for reaffirming to your Mommy, the value of a rest day.

Big strength comes in small packages

2010-03-20T09:22:00.005-04:00

So I admit it. I haven't been updating my blog all that much lately; and most of my recent entries have been about my kids. Truth be told...I don't have a whole lot going on right now.
I mean, I could write about all the races I have forfeit becuase of my leg injury (which thankfully has only been a few marathons so far); but who's going to want to read that pitiful drivel?!
The healing process of said injury has been long, painful, and slow. My last running step was taken nearly five months ago, and still there isn't much light to be seen at the end of the healing tunnel.
Don't get me wrong; my swim and ride workouts have been ramped up so much that I can blow almost everyone out of the pool, and I'm probably going to be doing all of my riding alone this season since I'm too fast to ride with...well, everyone I know.....
So there is a bright side to be seen, but anyone who knows me knows that I am probably the most impatient person. Ever.
I am coming to terms with the fact that my injury, now two and a half years old isn't going to heal in six weeks; even under the best care and with the most innovative cutting-edge treatments. This realization has not come easy. Admittedly, I have spent several recent weeks wallowing in my own self pity and stupidity.
It wasn't until a few nights ago that an incident occurred with Ethan which forced me to snap out of my own funk.

Enrolled in a March Break goalie camp, Ethan spent his days at an arena in Toronto doing on ice drills and dry land training. All day.
I was foolish to think that by the time he got home at 5:30pm, he would be too tired to do anything. No....he headed right outside each night to fit in a few more hours of road hockey with his buddies on the street.
One night after cleaning up the kitchen, Tim and I had just found a few minutes to ourselves to catch up on each others day when we heard a blood curdling scream coming from the front door.
I jumped up and raced down the hall to see a bloody faced Ethan standing there screaming and shaking. One thing you need to know about Ethan is that he's not a "crier". He only cries when it's bad. Really bad.
I grabbed him and carried him over to the kitchen counter to asses the damage as I tried to understand his replay of what happened.
As the story goes, he was taking shots on the guy in net (yes hes a goalie, but his buddies don't like him to be in net too much becuase they can never score on him; Lol!) and the hockey ball bounced off his stick and right up into his face.
After a minute, I had the whole picture. Three loose teeth (one of which fell out later that night) a fat lip, and some bruised gums and misplaced teeth. Ok. Could be worse....?!
Some Tylenol and ice cream seemed to get him through the rest of the evening.

"So what do you think about goalie camp tomorrow?" I asked later that night. "All my teeth will fall out and my whole face hurts." he replied still in a bit of shock and a lot of pain. I told him to sleep on it and tell me in the morning if he wanted to go or stay home.
The night settled down and the older kids went to bed. Or so we thought....
A few minutes later, Eleanor came down with Ethan alongside her. "Uh Mommy, Ethan has a problem."
Oh boy...
"What's up E?" I ask. "I hate my life" he said with a straight face.
My heart almost stopped. After everything we do for you....how can you hate your life, I thought....
Relax Les; he's only seven....
After talking to him for a few minutes it turns out that he was upset becuase he feels he is always the one who gets hurt.
"I'm always getting sick, getting hit by pucks and sticks, having surgery...and remember when I was in the hospital and almost died and all the doctors had to save my life?!"
So, I had to admit, that Ethan was right in way. He has definitely had his share of bad luck when it comes to health over the last few years. But I didn't feel like I could let him feel sorry for himself for getting hurt during hockey. I had to make him feel better here. Think fast Rasmussen....
I could feel my face getting hot as I explained that getting hurt was all part of the game. Everyone who is a decent hockey player gets hurt. Please let him understand, please don't make this the moment where he decides he doesn't want to play anymore...he's too good! I can't watch his talent go to waste over a few teeth!!!
I continue....."The same goes in any sport....if you play hard, you're going to get hurt. But that doesn't mean you give up and walk away! You have to be tough not only physically, but in your head too. You gotta be tough buddy." I added for good measure.
"Yeah" he said. "Crosby gets hurt all the time!! . And he always goes back and plays another game!"
Phew. He's getting it, I thought to myself.

The next morning came around, and sure enough Ethan was good as new and ready to go back to training camp. Add a fat lip and take away a few teeth.... but other than that; good as new. Really.....

As I thought about the end of the conversation that night and Ethan's final words on the subject....... "And look at you Mommy! You can't run and you had like, a hundred giant size needles right in your butt cheek with all that weird yellow stuff and you never give up!"....I found the motivation within myself to end my stint of self pity. Ethan was right. My kid sees me as a strong person; I'm not going to let that change.
Just as he stepped out on the ice the next morning for another day of training camp; I too will keep getting back on my bike, into the pool, and one day back on the road...running shoes and all.

Spring Training

2010-02-19T17:59:00.001-05:00

My oldest son Ethan is like me in many ways. One reason being that we are both morning people, and very early risers. I get up early to get in my first workout of the day and he gets up early for hockey practices and goalie clinics. Even on our days off, we just can't seem to be able to sleep past that regular alarm time.
Most days Ethan catches up on game scores from the previous day via SportsNet, but once he's all caught up he usually heads down to the basement to watch me finish my bike workouts.

I enjoy the company and he seems fascinated by the copious amounts of sweat that his mother can produce. He likes to chat with me while I ride, but he also knows that sometimes I'm too tired to talk. He invented a "secret code" for us to use to signal to him that I can't talk. All I have to do is hold up four fingers and he knows that means I'm in zone four and am not able to carry on a conversation at that moment. He's learned to hold his conversation until I lower my training intensity. Mornings like these have been great bonding time for us.
One morning as I pedaled away, he asked me "Mommy, when my legs are long enough, do you think I can ride that bike?" I said "Sure buddy, as soon as you're tall enough". He said "Good, I'm going to do Ironman one day". I melted.

There have been a few mornings where Ethan has caught me in the middle of my strength workouts. He is less satisfied to just sit there and watch these workouts as he is the rides. No...when I'm doing a strength workout, he really really REALLY wants to workout with me.
I was able to satisfy his urge for a while by doing push ups and sit up with him and spotting him on the pull-up bar, but soon that just wasn't enough. I explained to him that it's not a great idea for kids to lift weights while their bodies are still growing. “But I need to grow my muscles for hockey" he pleaded.
On a few occasions I went downstairs and caught him working out with some of my weights on the sly. He was sneaking workouts on me!!!

I mentioned this incident to Ian and he suggested I take him along with me to an Endurofit class. It would be good cross-training for him, he added.
I presented the idea to Ethan and was able to use the classes as a bargain with him. If I took him to the classes, then he had to stop working out behind my back. "Deal" he confirmed.

We headed to our first Endrofit class together last week. Unfortunately because of the PRP treatment I’d undergone the previous day, I was not able to participate in the class that night.
In light of the first day of the Olympics, Ian had designed an Olympic inspired workout.
The workout was three rounds of a series different cross fit exercises, each inspired by an Olympic event. The workout was to be timed and reps were to be counted. At the end of the three rounds the participant with the most total reps would be the winner.

Ethan was not even a little intimidated by all the grown-ups (he was the only kid in the class), and he threw himself into the workout with enthusiasm.
At the end of the three rounds he was tired and anxious to know how he finished. He was happy to learn that he got second place! "Silver medal" he said.

Every day since then, Ethan has been asking when we are going back to cross fit. He is anxious to keep training to get himself in shape for his upcoming hockey try outs. Another cross fit addict is born!
I can hardly wait to go head to head with Ethan once my hamstring has healed!

Rockin' pipes E!

A pain in the butt. The story continues...

2010-02-14T11:16:00.013-05:00

September 30, 2007; Winegalss Marathon in Corning, NY. I remember this day for a few reasons. First, I ran a decent race that day; claiming second place in my age group for the marathon. And secondly; somewhere on that drive home from NY state; I felt a sharp stab in my butt. The first of many I would soon learn.

At first, I didn't think much of it. I figured I had just run a marathon and things were achy. This was a fairly normal occurrence for me after such a race. Not a big deal, right?!
Little did I know that this stab would be with me for the next two and a half years....and counting. My new friend would accompany me everywhere I went; with me during every marathon, triathlon, Ironman and every training session in between.

After months and months of rest, three methods of diagnostic imaging and visits to various specialists with failed attempts to diagnose my injury, I was starting to lose hope.

Although there were several theories among these professionals, nobody was able to pinpoint exactly what my injury was. The MRI, bone scan and x-ray all showed no abnormalities.
Just as I was about to accept that I would have to make a choice to either stop running altogher, or continue running with the pain; knowing that I would not be able to reach my maximum potential that way; another option fell into my lap. 4D ultrasound.
I was lucky enough to get an appointment with a few days for my test. (Sometimes it's all about who you know...)
I arrived at my appointment with the hope that the scan would show something; anything. But with all the other tests I had done, I wasn't feeling too confident.
As I lay sprawled on the table watching the ultrasound create pictures of my leg muscles on the screen; I tried to guess what the technician was seeing; if anything.
He zoomed in to the area where the hamstring attaches to the ischial tuberocity and took some measurements. He explained that the white parts of the image where healthy muscle fibers. Then he showed me what looked like two large black caves. These were tears in my hamstring tendon. There were two of them.
He moved the ultrasound probe further down my hamstring and showed me another cavernous gap in my muscle. Another tear.
He continued to take various measurements and passed them along to the doctor.
As I waited to talk to the doctor about the ultrasound findings, I felt a sense of relief that there was finally an explanation for my pain. My friend Dave acknowledged how hard it must have been to get through all those races; for performing at my level while in that degree of pain. I was pronounced a "champion". Thanks Dave....
After discussing a few options with the doctor after the ultrasound; we decided that PRP (Platelet Rich Plasma) Therapy was the most promising option. Although this procedure is somewhat invasive, it could possibly spare me from needing surgical repair.
During PRP, the doctor draws blood from the patients arm. The blood is then spun in a centrifuge to seperate the plasma from other components of the blood.
The concentrated plasma is then injected directly into the injury. This method is thought to speed healing of muscle, tendon and ligament tears significantly.
Depending on the location and severity of the injury, the patient may require more than one injection.
The doctor prescribed two rounds; four days apart for me.
It sounded pretty simple, so I scheduled my first appointment for the next day, and the second four days later.
I arrived back at the clinic the next day as planned.
The doctor marked my leg with the for the injection sites; I would be getting one injection for each tear, and he set me up to have the blood drawn.
From what I had read, only a small amount of blood was needed for this procedure, but I hadn't taken into account the fact that we were basically treating three separate injuries. As a result, the doctor drew several ounces of blood, which took a few minutes.
After that was done, he put it in the centrifuge where it spun for about twenty minutes while he began setting up for the rest of the procedure.
I was only moderately nervous until this point....then I saw the horse-size needles that would be used to inject the plasma into my injuries. These were some big boys.

I watched as he filled them with various mixtures of blood and platelets. As he did so, I deicded this would be a good time to confim that I would indeed, be getting a shot of freezing first. He laughed and told me that unfourtunately, freeizng wouldn't help me; the needles would be going in far too deep for freezing to make a difference.

Oh boy.
A moment later he was ready and declared it "show time."
I managed to stay still as I latched on to Dave's hand as though my life depended on it.
I felt the first needle go through my skin. That wasn't so bad, I thought. Then, almost after a pause, I felt it inch down deeper and deep through my muscle until it was almost flush against the bone where the muscle tissue had torn away. The deep throbbing sensation was quickly replaced by an intense burn as the plasma was slowly injected into the site of the injury.

A few moments later, the first needle was removed.
The doctor gave me a minute to compose myself and went to work on the second tear.
A few mintues later, we were ready for the last needle of the day. This one was going lower down in the hamstring, and with it came an entirely different sensation. This one was by far the worst of the three. The throbbing felt more like a knife stab and the burn felt more like a shock. Needless to say, I was very happy when he was done with that one. By this point, I had a case of the cold sweats going on.

After the injections were done, the doctor cleaned off and bandaged the area. A few moments later, my entire leg gave way to an intense throbbing that made me want to run out of my own skin. I could feel all the extra fluid pooling in the back of my leg. It was a very strange feeling. I wanted to pop it.

After twenty minutes I was allowed to leave until the next appointment, but instructed not to limp or favor the sore leg. Yeah, right. I hobbled out of there like a 95 year-old lady, and somehow managed to drive myself home.

Three days later, the pain has mostly subsided, but sitting down on my left side is still a bit sore....

Soaring to New Heights at CrossFit Altitude

2010-01-23T11:27:00.007-05:00

For the past four months, Ian has been putting Cross Fit style strength workouts into my training calendar. At first, I was a bit skeptical because everything looked way too hard! After all, I was an endurance athlete; trained for speed and stamina, not for crazy all over body strength.
I think Ian was hoping he could defeat me with his workouts, but obviously he didn't know me that well. There were definitely workouts where I would have rather sat on the floor and peeled my skin off than finish the workout; but not once did I give up. Not even on the 1000 perfect form push up days, or the 1000 consecutive sit up days. Nope. I did them all. (Although the 1000 perfect form sit-ups left me with a lovely bruise on my lower back).
After a few weeks of these workouts, I started to get used to them and even started to like the fast sets of push ups, pull ups, burpees, weighted lunges and turkish get ups. Most of them were quick workouts, but all done for time and with proper form. Within a month, there were notable changes to the shape of my muscles. My stronger lats and shoulders translated to a faster more efficient swim stroke and precious seconds shaved off my swimming time trials. I was hooked!
For Christmas, Santa brought me a shiny new 16kg kettle bell which gave Ian even more opportunities to try and defeat me with cross fit. Try he did, but I'm still embracing the challenge that comes with throwing that thing around and have been loving it so far.

Recently, Ian announced to me that Cross Fit Altitude in Burlington would be starting Endurofit classes; crossfit workouts designed with the endurance athlete in mind. It sounded pretty intense to me, but I'll try just about anything once. And this sounded like something I definitely needed to try.
Because it was my first actual cross fit class, I was a bit worried that I wouldn't be able to survive the workout. He assured me that I would be fine; it was nothing I had never done before.
When we arrived, Ian explained the workout and had us try each of the different components to make sure we were clear on what was expected.

We wished one another luck, and began our race against the clock; and each other.
This is what we were to do:

1000m row
50 Kettlebell swings (with perfect form)
50 Tire slams
500m Row
50 Weighted ball slams
50 Knees to elbows on the pull up bar
1000m Row

(No breaks, no pauses, no pit stops) Go, go, go!

I finished second to Jenn, who happens to be a daily cross fitter and one of the owners of Cross Fit Altitude. My time was 23 minutes. Not, bad I must say. I'm hooked and I will definitely be dropping in for EduroFit Classes whenever I can.

Below are a few pictures from our class. I should warn you though, I look a bit like the spotted dog from the kids book "Put me in the zoo".
Remember how I said I'll try pretty much anything once?! Well, on the same day as my Cross Fit experience I had consented to being a guinea pig for my massage therapist, Michael.
He had just been certified in a massage technique known as cupping, and he wanted some more practice. He warned me that I would be covered in hickey looking marks, and he wasn't lying. I am covered..from head to toe.
During cupping, small plastic cups are placed over a specific area of the body; usually an injury, and all the air is sucked out of the cup. This draws the skin and fasical tissue into the cup; increasing blood flow to the injured area which promotes healing...and leaves hickeys.

Normally, you wouldn't have this done over your entire body like I did; just over one specific site. Like I said, I was a guinea pig.
Perhaps this could mean new hope for my still undiagnosed butt injury?! Will let you know! But, for the next two weeks I get to walk around looking somewhat like a freak show...should make for some interesting conversations at the pool! LOL

In the meantime, I invite all my fellow endurance athlete types to try out an Edurofit class at CrossFit Altitude! You won't be sorry...I promise! Here are a few shots from our workout.

For more info check out their website! http://www.crossfitaltitude.com/crossfit_altitude/

Jenn and I after our workout!

The highlights of 2009

2010-01-06T16:34:00.084-05:00

Most mornings are the same at our house, depending on who's around. During the week when breakfast time rolls around, Tim grabs his coffee and turns on TSN to watch the sports highlights. When Ethan and Eleanor are here, Tim grabs his coffee and turns on TSN to watch the highlights; only by this time Ethan has them all memorized and can pretty much review the previous night's hockey scores and stats in English, or French.
Mornings like those are the inspiration behind today's post. Presented below in chronological order is a review of the best moments in sport around our house in 2009. (A few days late for the New Year, I know. I'm busy, ok!?)

January 2009- A Goalie is Born
2008/2009 was Ethan's second season of house league hockey. He liked it...until he started playing net. At that point his liking turned into a passion for the game backed up by an extreme interest in the NHL, all driven by an intense urge to be the best goalie he possibly could. Most people in the family tried to discourage this goalie in the making we seemed to have on our hands. But not Tom, or I. Yes, we knew goalie equipment was/is astronomically expensive, but Tom could see that Ethan had something going for him between the pipes. As for me, well I could definitely understand the passion, drive and dedication Ethan was feeling at that time. Sometimes the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree....
Early January came around and Ethan's coaches at the time had been putting him in net for most games. And with reason; he was good. The annual Christmas playoffs came around and if there was a shred of doubt in anyone's mind about Ethan's potential as a goalie, this game blew it right out of the water.
The last game in the tournament went into a nail biting, double overtime. No goals.
After an extra 20 minutes on the ice (which felt like a lifetime to Tom and I), the coaches called a shoot out.
"They're not..." Tom hoped, "I can't watch this" I said. Something about watching Ethan, who had turned six only a few weeks before, out there on the ice alone, facing one opponent at a time; made me want to run away. I didn't think I could watch Ethan face shot after shot, until one of the other kids prevailed.....or until our team scored on theirs. But of course, Tom and I weren't thinking about the other guys. All we could see was Ethan. Our Ethan, alone on the ice in front of all those people, team mates and coaches, waiting to save the game or lose it for his entire team. All of a sudden, he looked so small out there all by himself.

Tom and I secretly hoped the shoot out would end quickly so we could relax. But Ethan was good, and it lasted. It lasted through a full rotation of all the players on the other team. They had all taken a shot, and Ethan had stopped every single one. It wasn't until the end of the second rotation that our team scored on the other goalie. We had won. Ethan had done it. The rest of the team ambushed him right there on the ice with hugs, knuckles, high fives and more hugs. For a few minutes, Ethan was gone. Buried under a pile of the happiest 5 and 6 year olds on the face of the earth. After the game, a sweaty Ethan driven by his own success proclaimed to Tom and I; "Next year when I'm old enough, I'm going to be a real goalie and play Rep. I want to be a Raider."
"Rep?!" I thought, I didn't even know there was rep for kids his age. But he knew. Apparently he had done his research and he knew what he wanted.
So on that January afternoon out of the woodwork in small quiet Georgetown, a goalie was born.

February 2009 V-Day Waffle Wars
In February, Tim and I took our annual trip to Myrtle Beach to visit his parents. As usual, I was signed up to run the marathon there, which happened to be taking place on Valentine's Day.. But unlike other years, this particular race made it on to my top 10 list of "worst marathon experiences ever". However, it was totally, 100% my own fault.
Normally on race morning I wake up in plenty of time to eat a boring easy to digest breakfast, and get to the race early enough for a few leisurely stops at the porta-potties before the start gun fires.
This morning was different. Tim and I were in zombie parent mode. The boys were still getting up several times a night and I was still breast feeding. There was little sleep to be had.
So, in an effort to compensate, we decided to "sleep in" until 4:45 am, grab a very quick bite on the way to the race and get there in "enough time".
This plan had potential. Really, it would have worked if it weren't for my idiotic breakfast choice. (See below).

A note to all you marathon rookies and wannabe's out there. Never eat chocloate-chip-pecan waffles an hour before a marathon. Bad choice.

I lost count of the number of times I saw those waffles again that day. On the road, in the porta-potties, on the grass, in the forest....at the aid stations; you get the point. The volunteers that day loved me, I'm sure.
By the time I hit mile 22, I was actually starting to feel pretty good again. I managed to calibrate my pace to something that appeared normal and respectable, and brought myself in for what looked like a strong finish; leaving everyone to wonder why my finishing time was so horrible. Never. Again.

So, I guess you're wondering why this race made my top 10 list for '09....

Well, overall (except for the waffle experience), it was a great weekend.

The boys joined Tim and I in the family run, and were publicly recognized for being the youngest twins to ever participate. That made the whole ordeal worth it for me :) And I got to celebrate Valentine's day with Tim and my two teeniest Valentines.

May 2009- Mother of All Marathons
I celebrated Mother's Day of '09 the same way any Mother should; surrounded by those who love her and doing what she likes best. My choice was to run a marathon with my top five favourite people in my corner.
Their support must have been my good luck charm that day. I ran a PB, and took home second place in the overall female division.

Two weeks later at the start line of the Ottawa marathon, amongst thousands of like minded athletes, and a few race photographers; Tim and I got engaged. (We never did buy the "official" engagement photo...ooops!)
A bit shaken from the surprise, I managed to run a second PB that day.

June 2009- Ironman Bound
June brings a few celebrations to our house. There's Tim's birthday, Father's Day, and the ever popular last day of school. In the world of local triahletes, June also marks the month for the Muskoka Chase. For many Ironman hopefuls, this is their chance to qualify for one of those much sought after spots in various upcoming IM races. I was no exception. This was my chance to "make up" for the Ironman title I had "traded in" for the twins the year before.
I gave it my all that day, and with Tim and the boys in my corner, I managed to race my way to the prize. My entry to Ironman Canada.

July 2009- 1st Year Finish Line
Ok, so this isn't really a moment in "sport" per se.....but anyway, the boys turned 1 at the end of July. Now, this may not seem like much of a feat to the non-parents out there, or even to the parents of single one-at-a-time children. But for Tim and I; it was a big deal. We had survived. We made it to the First Year Finish line with two happy gorgeous boys to show for it.

It was a happy day shared by us and the family. How quickly a year passes in a fog of sleepless nights, overtime breast pumping and endless smelly diapers. Oh yes, and the end of July also marked my one year of breastfeeding! Now THAT was a glorious day. My boobs were mine again!! ALL mine! Or, whatever was left of them......
Anyway, we survived. Another finish line crossed in the marathon of life. Yay us!

August 2009- Ironwill
August brought a rather empty race calendar to our house in comparison to previous months. I had three races on my radar. A half IM, a Kids of Steel race for my older kids, and of course; the legendary IMC.
The rest of the month was taper time. This proved to be a complete test of my will and patience, and the most horrid two weeks of my life. Most people look at a training plan and see the taper as the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Shorter, less frequent workouts, and more rest days. To me, and most other obsessive triathletes (which pretty well covers all of us...*ahem*); this sounds like a death sentence. A time when we are to restrain from "one last" long ride, swim, run, brick, whatever. The taper is a time when we must act maturely and responsibly for the sake of our race. Easier said than done.

The weekend of the half IM and KOS race turned out fairly well. The kids race was on Saturday and mine on Sunday. We decided to take the kids up north for a weekend of camping and racing.

The first night was great, and we had great weather for the KOS race. Both Eleanor and Ethan had stellar performances, and Eleanor even got honourable mention from the announcer for her stylish racing attire.

This was their third KOS race, and of course, they loved it.
Eleanor definitely proved herself during the swim by utilizing the various swim strokes I had taught her, and Ethan hammered out his run, passing several other boys over the run course.
When I met Ethan at the finish line, he said to me between laboured breaths "Mommy, that was the hardest thing ever, I have no idea how you do it". I melted.
This year, Eleanor and Ethan's step sister, 4 year old Rebecca joined us for her first KOS. She was awesome. She smiled the entire way and gave Tom, who raced alongside her; a run for his money. Did I mention she had a broken wrist at the time?! This chick is tough!! She chalked it up to her stylish red running shoes. Haha, Go Rebecca! ( I wonder if those shoes come in a women's nine and a half?!)

It poured Saturday night. Luckily, the rain held off until we went to bed. Did I mention we were camping?

We managed to get my bike into a tent to keep dry, along with us and the babies. Morning rolled around, and unfourtunately the sun did not come with it.
I set up my transition in the muck, gave Tim and the boys a kiss, and headed to the river for the swim start with little motivation.
Because of the heavy rain, the riverbed was turned up and the water was nice and murky. I got through the 2 loop swim course and grabbed my bike. It wasn't until about 10 minutes into the ride that is started to rain. Thinking back now, "rain" is probably not the most accurate term. Bucket, torrential downpour, monsoon, etc. are probably better terms. We all rode the 90 km bike course through thunder, lighting, hail, "sharp" rain (you know that kind that hits your face at such force it feels like it's drilling holes through your skin?!) Add to that a good 35-40km/hr ride pace, and faster on the down hills; and you'll understand why I saw lots of riders pulled off to the side of the road. Not me, I wanted to get off my bike alright, but not until I was back in T2. I kept on through the rain, the hail, the hills. At one point, I decided it was best to ditch my clear lens glasses since the little protection they were providing was trumped by the fog that kept them covered. At various points along the course, I rode with my eyes shut periodically to protect them from the hail.
Anyway, I made it back in one piece somehow, and started out on my run. It was about five minutes after my run began that it stopped raining, and the sun came out. How nice. Ugh.
I managed to keep a safe 20 mminute lead on my direct competitors. I caught up to one of the female pros on the run course and we had a lovely chat between aid stations. She asked if I was the "one with the twins" (it seemed that most people in the tri community now referred to me that way. I would often get random spectators cheering "Go twin Momma", or "Go supertwin mom"). I said yes, and we talked about the boys and her little one who was a few months older than G & O. Eventually she confessed that she couldn't keep my pace and wished me well for the rest of the race. I pressed on along the incredibly hilly run course, and pulled myself in for another hard earned 1st place on podium.

It turned out to be a good day, and I have to say that Tim deserves a "Supertwin Dad" award for packing up the campsite in the rain, keeping tabs on me over the bike course, and waiting around for me during the run; all while keeping the boys safe, dry and amused. A Dad's work is never done!

The end of the month rolled around fairly quickly, and it was finally Ironman time.

I had a phone call from my older kids the night before the race and they asked if I was nervous. I said, "yeah a little bit". They told me to remember all the things I told them when they were nervous about something, and Eleanor signed off by saying "Mommy, it's time to rock your race on!!" I can't even count the number of times I replayed that part of the conversation in my head the next day.

Long story short; it was my first IM, located in my favourite place on earth, and shared by some wonderful family members. Enough said. Go to http://lesleyrasmussen.blogspot.com/2009/09/my-road-to-ironman.html to read my full Ironman race report.

September 2009- Let the (Rep Hockey) Games Begin

The end of summer brings the start of hockey season. Ethan had absolutely no intention of letting us forget about the rep tryouts taking place early in September.

The tryouts consisted of five days of drills, evaluations, and every hockey parents' nightmare; cuts. Each child would be subjected to skill evaluations, and would either be invited back or denied a second chance in the form of a letter in a magical white envelope (which we were instructed by officials not to open until outside of the arena).

The first day weeded out the kids that didn't have basic skating skills, the second day got into technical skills, and each day after that got harder and harder. Ethan was invited back each time. He opened each letter outside the arena as Tom and I held our breath.

On the fourth day, Ethan came down with an ear infection and a high fever, but he insisted he couldn't miss his chance. He made it, and was invited back for the final day. By the next day, his ear infection had spread to his mastoid which caused it to swell out his entire ear.

It wasn't until then that we encountered a major problem. Tom couldn't fit his helmet over his massive ear. It was the last day of the tryouts, the final cut to see who would become a Raider for the upcoming season. I knew in my mind that Ethan was very sick, but I knew in my heart that there was no way he would miss his chance. He let Tom contort his head into the most comfortable position possible to get his helmet over his swollen ear.

I decided right then and there that no matter what the outcome of this final cut; my kid was a champion.

Ethan did become a Raider that day, but was so sick when they delivered him the news that he could hardly muster a smile. Tom and I asked him if he wanted to go out and celebrate. The response from his pale clammy body was "Not today. I just want to go to bed". Rockstar.
Ethan continues to prove his dedication and will to succeed every time he steps onto the ice for a practice, game, power skating or goalie clinic. He is amazing and I admire his persistence.

Ocotber 2009- Sometimes The Girls' Just Gotta Run

October was definitely the month to run for Eleanor and I.
Eleanor made it to the cross country finals for Halton and came home with a second place ribbon for her age group. It looks like she may have inherited my legs and lungs :)

I decided it was as good at time as any to attempt my first 50km trail race. Despite my leg injury, and the mucky trail conditions, I managed to take home 2nd place for the Female 40 and under age division.

A few weeks later, thanks to Ian's pacing and Tim's pain management strategies, I pulled in another 2nd place at the Niagara Marathon.

November 2009-Remembering A Great Season

November is normally a pretty blah month; nothing too exciting goes on in November. Although,this year, November marked the '09 Subaru Tri Series Age Group Champion awards banquet to which I was lucky enough to be invited. It was held in beautiful wine country on a lovely Sunday morning. Tim and I decided to leave the twins at home with a sitter. Eleanor joined us for the ceremony (Ethan had a hockey practice and game, surprise, surprise) and Ian came along as well.

All the series age group winners received recognition, for their series wins, awards and various prizes over some good food and camaraderie. It defenitely brought back the memories of my '09 Subaru victories at Victoria's Du, Muskoka chase, Guelph Lake, Peterborough, and Belwood Lake. It was a nice day.

Aside from the countless hockey commitments, December was a month "off" for all of us. Several week of shopping, wrapping, cooking and cleaning. Christmas madness swept through our house. We survived and all had a great time despite the insanity of the season.

Another year over, another finish line crossed with high hopes and excited anticipation for the coming year.

Happy New Year.

Life is good

2009-12-18T07:38:00.004-05:00

On December 12th for the second year in a row, I took part in the Toronto Santa Speedo Run to raise money for Sick Kids hospital.
2009 marked the 5th year for this run and participants raised $34,206 for the Sick Kids toys and games fund this year alone. I was happy to see that there were a few more participants this year than last and I really hope the run continues to grow.
Each year, participants raise money for the hospital with the promise to gather in Yorkville decked out in red Speedo's and Santa hats. Snow, freezing rain, sunshine, wind, doesn't keep us crazies from holding up our end of the deal.
We meet up in the early afternoon on the busiest shopping Saturday before Christmas to run past the stores signing carols, doing jumping jacks, and on occasion the odd set of 10 push ups on the street corner.....in our bathing suits. (Note to anyone considering taking part in this next year....be careful who you run behind as this is the person who's rear you will be faced with during those sets of push ups).

People who aren't aware of my son Ethan's history at Sick Kids often ask me why I would do something so weird, bold and in some cases, stupid. Why would I run around in the dead of Winter with no clothes on? Won't I get sick? This year, yes I actually did get sick. But, it's nothing compared to the illness all the kids in that hospital are facing. To me, it's a very small price to pay.
Next year, I'm hoping to have my older kids participate with me. I know they both remember Ethan's hospital stays very clearly.
When you listen to them talk about it, they both paint such different pictures of that time in their life.
Eleanor talks about how lonely she was when Ethan was gone from the house for those months. She talks about how she had to walk to school without him and couldn't see him at recess. She remembers being scared for him in the middle of the night and hoping that the doctors were helping him and making sure that nothing they did was hurting him. I remember bringing her to the various hospitals to visit him, and she was so happy to see her brother (even though just weeks before he got sick they were fighting like cats and dogs; well, like brothers and sisters). She wanted to jump up and hug him but knew she had to be quiet becuase Ethan was too weak.
Ethan remembers things differently of course. He vividly remembers needles. Lots of needles, and how after a while some of them didn't really hurt anymore. Sometimes he talks about blood. About how he needed to get new blood from another person, and how it came from a machine and went through the needle and into him. This particular conversation always makes me want to go out and give blood, immediately.
I think his biggest memories of it all were the ambulance rides. He talks about how fast the ambulance took him to the hospitals. And how the sirens were so loud and all the cars on the highway had to stop and let them through. He almost makes it sound fun. Too bad those rides were some of the scariest moments in me and my ex-husband's life.
I see that his experience has awarded him a level of maturity towards life and death that not many kids his age have. As a matter of fact, I think this maturity in him far outweighs that of some people three times his age. On the outside he is still just your average, normal 7 year-old hockey and video game obsessed boy, but somewhere inside there is a kid who has a pretty clear understanding of life and death. In a way it's kind of humbling to see.

My memories of this ordeal are again, much different. I spent many nights sleeping on the hospital provided parent cot at his bedside. This place was in a way "home" for me, my ex-husband, and other family members who took shifts sitting by Ethan's side. Not once did any of us ever leave him alone. Not even for an hour.
At the time, my office was a 15 minute walk from Sick Kids. I'd haul my butt over there at lunch time everyday to play a few games with him if he had the energy for it. Sometimes he did, other times he didn't.
Every few days, I would take my regular GO train home. Only now it was a different commute. Instead of lugging my laptop and Blackberry, I'd also have my overnight bag. I would come home quickly to do my laundry and re pack another weeks worth of my PJ's, and work clothes and take the train back to work and "home" to the hospital for another week. On weekends, I would come home to do laundry and pack a new array of games, movies and clean clothes for Ethan.
My life during that time passed in a fog. I don't know how I managed my job. I remember showing up to the office to interview a P. Eng candidate for a high profile job at our company wearing my "Sick Kids Parent" badge around my neck. Life felt completely out of sorts to say the least. I spent many days behind my close office door crying on the shoulders of some good friends and colleagues.
Often in the middle of the night, Ethan would need treatment. A new bag of blood, an IV change, a blood test. I'll never forget the night I woke up to a horribly loud beeping sound. I looked at Ethan and he was asleep, and very blue and yellow in color. I looked at the screen that displayed all his vital signs and noticed that his heart rate was dropping by the second. His monitor set off an alarm in the hallway and within a minute an army of nurses and doctors had taken over the room, and my son. What happened next, I've only seen in the movies; they began shocking him to bring his heart rate back up. I can't even remember if I watched. But I can remember the sounds and the commotion of the room so vividly. I stood there like a deer in the headlights. In my pajamas, alone with all these medical professionals who were too busy saving my son's life to explain to me what was going on. I could see Ethan, and I wanted to hug him, to shake him, to make him wake up. Surely his mother's touch would help?! I couldn't get close, and they wouldn't have let me if I'd tried. So, there I stood, waiting, holding my breath to see the outcome; to learn my son's fate.
Thankfully after a few shocks, Ethan's heart rate stabilized. He had one more episode of cardiac arrest during his tenure at Sick Kids. The second just as horrible as the first.

I am so thankful that this part of our life is in the past now, but seeing my child in such a serious state of health shook things up for me. It definitely gave me a new appreciation for life. Not just his, but also my own. We are all so glad Ethan is fine now; things could have turned out much worse for him. He made it through his ordeal with no long term repercussions. He is now a happy kid in grade two french immersion, a pain in the butt little brother to Eleanor, a wonderful older brother to the twins, and is soon to become a big brother again! (On his Dad's side; not mine. Just to be clear, lol). I am reminded to appreciate life every time he steps on the ice for a hockey game and each time he celebrates a birthday.

As life continues on, and I remember the events of Ethan's ordeal I also remember the other kids I saw there. Lately, I have especially been thinking about an extremely brave 2 year old boy I know of every who continues his battle against cancer every single day. Yes, a 2 year old who has been fighting cancer for months and months. With these thoughts it is virtually impossible to pry myself away from my commitment to this event.

To my supporters, I send out a heartfelt thank you for your kind donations. I look forward to putting on my Speedo again in 2010.

Life is good.

A pain in the Butt

2009-12-09T05:48:00.011-05:00

My five week running layoff drew to a close last week. I have to admit that I missed my running shoes and that clear headed feeling I get when I get out for a good run. Don't get me wrong, last five weeks have brought me some incredible fitness gains in my riding. Ian re tested my bike V02 max last week, and although we were both hoping for improvements, the actual results shocked both of us.
Since my last test just a few months ago, I have increased my fat metabolism substantially, increased my anaerobic threshold by 7 BPM, and increased my v02 Max by 7ml/kg/min, all while maintaining my max output of power watts for a longer period of time.

The test felt really hard (as it should). I was so relieved when Ian said I could stop pedaling. Taking off the sweaty face mask felt so liberating! I was hot!
"Well, it looks like we aren't working you hard enough on the ride anymore" is what he said. Translation: I "Passed" my test. Definition: My v02 max had improved to a level where I was no longer being challenged by the current level of riding I was doing; I am now capable of much more.
The last week of this new level of riding has been tough, but I'm getting used to training in my new zones. And really; anything is better than pushing yourself to your body's limit with a mask over your nose and mouth. Talk about hot.
Seeing those results made the last several weeks of grueling trainer rides seem not so bad after all.

Excited that my five week running break was over, I laced up my running shoes for the first time since the Niagara marathon. Five weeks of treatment and rest. Five weeks of deep tissue massage, ultrasound, TENS and stretching. We all hoped that after all that; I could run without pain; that my injury had healed.
"Just a twenty minute run around the neighborhood" Ian had said.
Off I went. Within minutes, I felt the familiar stab in my butt.
Twenty minutes later, I arrived back home frustrated and somber. Now what?!...

After a chat with Tim and Ian, we was decided I would go and get another opinion on the injury. A second opinion? No; make that a 2,3,4th; yes, 4th opinion. I'm not sure why, but I always get stuck with these no-mans land injuries that are uncommon and hard to treat.

Frustrated and doubtful, I headed to my appointment on Tuesday night. After a quick description of my race history, all the pain that came with it, and a lot of eye rolling and "I told her not to's" from Ian; I was asked if I had been checked for a stress fracture yet.
Ok , duh. I'm not sure why I didn't think of it before, but now it seemed so blatantly obvious. I have a dark history of stress fractures, not in this specific area of my body, but I am no stranger to the symptoms and the tell-tale pain that comes with these hairline fractures. I really don't know why I didn't consider this possibility before, but now it seems so clear. It seems that I may have succeeded in something I didn't know to be possible. I have fractured my butt. (Way to go Rasmussen! Way to go....)
That would explain why all the treatments I have been receiving for the past oh, say, 2 years and all the stretching I've been doing hasn't been helping all that much. And, it would definitely explain why five running free weeks have done absolutely nothing to heal this mysterious injury.
So, if a fracture is causing this pain, why didn't it heal last year when I was pregnant? After all, I was banned from all physical activity. well, think about it. The Ischail Tuberocity (the bone in question here) is part of the pelvis. With the weight of a twin pregnancy; a 5lb 14oz Griffin, a 7lb 2oz Oliver (who was delivered breech), and all the lovely fluid, blood and gore that came with them, it's no wonder the bone couldn't heal. Not to mention the pubic symphyis Displaysia I was diagnosed with during the 4th month of my pregnancy. My pelvis was not a happy place, as is still the case it seems.
Yup, 2 1/2 years I've been feeling this pain; training and racing like a lunatic. I'm a hero! HA! kidding. The truth is that I'm an ignorant fool for having ignored and pushed on through the pain. (Although, it does somewhat confirm my freakishly high pain tolerance theory). But, imagine where I could be now if I'd addressed the pain properly in the beginning.

So, as I tried to focus on the rest of the conversation that evening, all I could think about were the races I would have to forefit if I really did "break" my butt.
I decided that I wouldn't think too far ahead until I know exactly what's going on. Only a bone scan can reveal the truth here.

"A minor setback" Ian reveals. Oh sure ,says the guy who's know dreams and plans aren't at stake here. Actually, that's not entirely true. Ian's hopes for me are probably higher than my own. I have a feeling he knows more about my potential than I do. Gotta love a coaches' confidence in his athlete.
With the Goofy Marathon and a half less than a month away, I had to ask about that one. "Not a hope", my therapist said; "Not a hope". Ok, so that one is out, (much to Ian's delight). I'm not too upset about that one. The Goofy was about a -Z on the race priority scale for Ian and I. Something stupid I signed up for a year ago; more just for a little getaway than for the race itself. The Goofy consists of running a half marathon on Saturday and a full marathon on Sunday. I've done it before, and to be honest, I don't need to do it again.
I have to admit that I'm starting to see more positives in this situation. Tim and I still get to go to Disney World for a few days....without ANY kids, and now without any race obligations. Hmm, sounds kind of like an adults only getaway to me! A few days of get this: WHATEVER WE WANT!!!!!!! Nice!

So in the meantime, I wait for December 23rd to come around when I get my bone scan. Although I'm pretty sure I already know what it will tell me, I know nobody can truly say until I've been injected with radioactive serum and place under the gamma camera. Until then, I keep swimming like a shark, riding like there's no tomorrow, and living with this huge pain in the butt.

Race award mix up

2009-11-21T13:20:00.006-05:00

So, a few weeks ago when I emptied my mailbox I noticed I received a package from the Niagara Falls Marathon. I wondered what it might be. I recognized the familiar shape through the padded envelope. A medal? Can't be. I picked my 2nd place award on race day.
Turns out, they had mistakenly sent me the 3rd place medal for F25-29, thinking I was her and didn't claim my award. If you'll recall; the 3rd place medal belongs to white shirt girl who I painstakingly sprinted past in the last few hundred meters of the marathon back in October. The same girl who passed me on the Peace Bridge. The girl I had to watch fade away in front of me since I was under coaches orders not to push past a specific intensity because of my lame hamstring. Ya. That girl.
I wanted to laugh, "Ha ha white shirt girl, I have your medal". But in the spirit of the season, I decided not to. Plus, I'm not really that cynical.
The question was, what do I do with this medal now? It's not mine, and I haven't a clue where to find white shirt girl.

Do I give it to one of my kids? I figured there had to be a way to put this medal to good use.
I did some searching and came across medals4mettle.org; a non-profit organization that donates finishers medals and award medals to children who are fighting chronic or terminal disease.
I decided that this is the best place for "my" medal. I also did some housekeeping of my medal shelf and found a few others to donate.
One of my favorites is a medal from one of the Las Vegas marathons in 2005. Tim was runnning on and off with me (not as a marathon participant, but as the super supporter he always is) for the last few miles of the race and got caught up in the finishers chute with me. He ended up running across the finish line beside me. Despite the fact that he had no timing chip or race bib and looked every part the race bandit that he was, he was given a medal. At the time I was frazzled. I had just busted my butt to finish 26.2 miles in desert headwinds within a certain time parameter to qualify for Boston and he ran a few measly miles beside me and he gets a medal!? Lol. Sorry honey, but there are kids out there who deserve this one more than you. :)

I think this organization provides a great way for us endurance athletes to offload some of our hard earned medals and put them to better use than the dust collectors they tend to become.
I encourage my fellow athletes to take a look at their collection and decide if ALL of those medals are really necessary. Really.
For more information, or to donate a medal please visit:
http://www.medals4mettle.org/index.htm

And, thank you white shirt girl for helping me (and you) find and support this useful cause.

'tis the season

2009-11-21T12:46:00.006-05:00

The week of November 11 was a busy one at our house. My son Ethan, who has bravely battled way too many serious health problems in his six years had to go in for another, but thankfully not too serious surgery on Wednesday.
The following day, I had to go in to have a mole removed from my left arm.
Ethan made it through his surgery, made a full recovery and was back on the ice within a week. He really is such a strong and brave child.
I on the other hand, am not so brave. I made it through my little surgery with much hand holding from Tim. Push a 9lb human out of my body without drugs? Sure, any day. But cutting and stitching my arm?! No thanks, I'll pass. The mind works in weird ways. I guess for me it's all about reward. I'd do just about anything to meet my baby, but what did I get for this? A big, ugly scar dead centre on my arm. Nice!
A week after his surgery, I took Ethan to his family doctor for his post-op check up which is on the second floor of a medical building.
On the way out Ethan asked me why we were taking the stairs down and not the elevator. I explained to him that we are strong, able-bodied people and we don't need to take the elevator. Ethan absorbed this statement and said "Oh, so the elevator is just for people who are really sick, like I was when I almost died".
For those who don't know Ethan's history; he was hospitalized for several months and at Sick Kids when he was four. He had contracted an E-coli infection that overtook his body. The infection caused several complications, one being Haemolytic Uremic Syndrome(HUS)which nearly took his life.
Ethan seems to have a vivid memory of this part of his life, and it comes up frequently in conversation. For example, at the grocery store: Ethan: "Mommy, those chocolate cookies look REALLY good."
Me: "Ethan, you know I don't buy junk food."
Ethan: "Don't you remember when I almost DIED?!"
Me: "Ugh, get the cookies".
Ok, so that's an exaggerated example and really, I'm not a pushover parent and I really don't buy much junk food. Ask my kids; they will confirm we live in a nutritionally sound house. I don't think there is a bigger waste of money or health than processed sugary and chemically sweetened foods, but you get the idea...
Anyway, there is something about this time of year that makes me want to do something "good" to help others. After all, isn’t this season supposed to be about giving; and not so much the commercialized money grab we as a gluttonous society have turned it in to?! After Ethan's stay at Sick Kids, it seemed I had even more of a reason to do so.
So, beginning last year, I decided to take part in a run to benefit Sick Kids. I think it's a "fun" way to show my thanks for the amazing care we got while Ethan was there. And of course, for the fact that they saved my son's life; a few times.
The Toronto Santa Speedo Run takes place mid December every year; where participants run through the streets of Yorkville decked out in red Speedos. No coats, no pants, no long johns.

Last year, the temperature was -18C.
The run is short, fun and full of energy. It definitely draws large crowds of wide-eyed spectators.
It's a fun event and I definitely recommend it to anyone who is looking to support a good cause.
I hope each year the number of participants in this event increases despite the fact that many people are too self conscious to wear a bathing suit. My advice is try not to let your shyness get in the way of helping out. If I did it last year with my 5 month postpartum-with-twins double time breastfeeding body; anybody can! It's not about us as participants; it's about the kids.
For more information about this run, please go to www.torontosantaspeedorun.com
To donate online, please visit:
http://my.e2rm.com/personalPage.aspx?registrationID=794161
All levels of donation are greatly appreciated.

Next time, I'll take the epidural

2009-11-03T08:45:00.021-05:00

They say child birth is the worst pain most women ever feel. After giving birth drug free to my first two children who were 9lb a piece, I can honestly say that I disagree with that statement. Yes, it hurt, but it wasn't THAT bad.
When I had the twins, I had no other choice. If I wanted to give birth in the hospital, I had to take the epidural. I fought with my OB for months over that, but to no avail. I had the epidural, and it was one of the worst experiences of my life. But soon enough, my two little angels were out and it was all worth it.

I mean yeah, child birth hurts. And if you consider what is actually going on "down there" during the birth process, how could anyone expect different? But why so many women call for the epidural during the labor process, I'm not sure I'll ever understand. Anyway, to each their own. We are all different. Maybe I just have a freakishly high pain tolerance.

Yesterday, I confirmed my belief that childbirth is not the worst pain out there. I successfully discovered a torture that feels much worse than squeezing a 9lb human being out of my body. This new-to-me torture is known in the world of massage therapy as stripping of the IT Band. The goal here is for the massage therapist to realign the deeper layers of muscle and connective tissues, and strip away any adhesions in the fascia using deep tissue massage techniques. Not your typical day at the spa relaxation massage.
Here is today's anatomy lesson for those unfamiliar with the IT Band.
The iliotibial (IT) band is a tough group of fibers that run along the outside of the thigh. The gluteal muscles and the tensor fascia lata muscle attach to the top, and the lower part attaches to the tibia, just below the knee. It functions primarily as a stabilizer during running and can become irritated from overuse.

Although I don't have IT Band syndrome which is a common injury among runners and cyclists; my IT's are generally tight, and I have never had a treatment dedicated to these muscles. Seeing that I'm on a running break right now, I thought it would be a good time to fit in such a treatment. It is recommended that a runner take a minimum of 4 days off running to recover from such a treatment. Now, I understand why.

Michael, my massage therapist had warned me last week that this treatment would be very painful. He wasn't lying.
He started with my right leg, which is my "good" side. Despite my best efforts to control my reaction to the pain, I screamed and whimpered like I've never done before. Michael didn't lessen the pressure (we agreed at the start of the treatment that he would keep the deep pressure unless I told him I could no longer handle it). Instead he turned up the music so others in the clinic wouldn't have to hear my cries of pain. After 20 minutes, he was done the right side. Phew.
On to the left which was much, much worse. By this point Michael was directing my breathing to help me get through the pain. I was sweating, I was biting towels, I was clutching the "huggy" pillow he had given me as though my life depended on it. I wanted out of there.
"I want to die" I said. "No you don't." he replied. "This is going to help you. And maybe next time you won't let things get so out of hand" he said. I know, I know. I made my bed, and here I lie.
25 minutes of torture on the right side, and thankfully I was done...until my next treatment later in the week.

I limped into the house and rested with ice packs strapped up and down my legs. There was so much blood flow around the treated areas, that I could feel heat radiating through my jeans.
Michael warned me that I may see some superficial bruising on my legs. "I don't bruise easily" was my response. He rolled his eyes and walked away shaking his head. I know, I'm such a pain.
As I got ready for bed last night and took some Advil to ease the discomfort, I noticed that I indeed had some bruising going on.

Yep, next time I'll take the epidural.

On another note... I am super happy and proud to confirm that my friend Tamara, did in fact qualify for Boston on Sunday as I knew she would! I'll be so gald to have her company for the 2010 running. Way to go Tamara!

The last Hoorah

2009-10-27T10:06:00.014-04:00

Long distance running is hard. Hard on the body that is. I have yet to meet a seasoned long distance runner who is not recovering, treating or suffering from a running related injury. I am no exception.
Over the years I've come face to face with three recurring stress fractures, plantar fasciitis, patella tracking syndrome, random bone spurs and everyone's favourite; shin splints. For the last year or so, I've been struggling with an on again off again injured obturator internus.
For those who aren't sure what the heck that is,exactly; here is the obturator Internus explained: The obturator internus muscle originates on the medial surface of the obturator membrane, the ischium near the membrane, and the rim of the pubis. It exits the pelvic cavity through the lesser sciatic foramen. The obturator internus is situated partly within the lesser pelvis, and partly at the back of the hip-joint. It functions to help laterally rotate extended thigh and abduct flexed thigh, as well as to steady the femoral head in the acetabulum.
(Living with a chiropractor comes in handy sometimes).

An injured obturator (in my opinion) feels like a sharp knife stab in the muscle that attaches to my butt bone. The faster I run, the more it stabs. Obturator is also a very difficult muscle to stretch and treat because of it's location and size.

Over the past year I have received enough treatment to "keep me in the game" and keep the discomfort to a minimum, but as any expert would tell someone in my position, an injury at this stage of progression won't heal without rest.
The last month or so has been especially tough. It seems that obturator has started to "give up" in a sense, and hamstring is now overcompensating. Things are messy, and my running performance has definitely suffered.

After a few especially painful run workouts leading up to the Niagara Falls Marathon, I finally came to admit that it was time to give this mess a chance to heal. This admittance came as a huge, but welcomed surprise to Tim who has been encouraging me to just that for a very long time, and Ian who has been anxious to do speed work with me; but unable to given my injuries. I'm sure they are both wondering why it took me so long to take their advice. I suppose I just needed to be ready.

With less than a week left before Niagara, I kept to my scheduled workouts knowing that my marathon time would be slower than I wanted and painful to say the least, but no different than any of my runs in recent months. Ian did cut a few workouts from my schedule that week because of a chest infection that hit me hard in the last days leading up to the race.
I did what I could to keep things low key throughout the week, got lots of rest (or as much as a mom of four can get in a day), ate lots of garlic (it does help sometimes), and drank enough fluid to float a cruise ship.

On Saturday after lunch, Tim and I packed up the twins and headed for Niagara Falls. (Eleanor and Ethan had too many sporting commitments of their own to attend my race). Hmph.
One last Hoorah before taking who knows how many weeks off from running. I decided that whatever the outcome of this race, I was going to have a good time, damn it!
After a nice, but very windy day at the Falls, we had some dinner at the Keg and headed back to the hotel to get the boys to bed.
The night passed nicely and quietly until about 2:30 am when our neighbours came back from the casino and decided to crack open just a few more beers. They kept Tim and I up for a good two hours, but luckily the boys didn't hear anything. Had our beer drenched gambling friends woken up our little guys, however, I was prepared to knock down their door and hand over our crying 14 month olds just for spite. Surely that would have scared them into silence.

Tim and the boys drove me to the start line in Buffalo, NY and hung around with me for an hour or so until the race started.
Ian had given me specific pacing instructions for this race knowing that I had been sick all week. I know he had seriously considered pulling me from the event entirely, so I was determined to follow his direction. I was to keep my heart rate in a mid to upper zone three for the duration of the event. Plain and simple.
He had planned to meet me around 13 miles on his bike and ride alongside me for the second half of the course.

The first few miles through Buffalo went off without a hitch. I found my place and kept my pace.
We approached the Peace Bridge and the winds picked up. As I ran up the bridge, my heart rate crossed over into zone four, so I pulled back my intensity as I had been instructed. After a minute or so, a girl who looked to be my age, wearing a white shirt passed me. Ugh. Instinctively, I cranked up my stride. My heart monitor beeped again and reminded me to pull back. "I'm not racing today. I'm lucky to be well enough to run this at all, I'm lucky Ian didn't pull me from the race", I kept telling myself. Despite the self depreciating thoughts going through my head, I let the white shirt girl go. Out of sight. Unfortunately, not out of mind. Oh well.

I kept on. Around the 12km mark, the hamstring pain was starting to intensify. I was prepared, "it's just pain" , I told myself. Nothing I hadn't been managing for the last 12 months.
I made a quick pit stop, and kept going.
There were a few race officials on bikes who kept riding around. They would update me on my place. "7th woman, top 10 in women's field" etc.
Tim and the boys were able to meet up with me a few times along the way. I always love seeing them!

The miles ticked by and I hit halfway. No sign of Ian yet.
Somewhere between 13 and 14 miles, we met up and had a quick chat about how my first half had gone. He told me how happy he was that I stuck to my pacing instructions. I told him about white shirt girl, and how unhappy I was to have let her go. He reminded me that I was not racing. "Yeah, yeah" was my response, I think.
We chatted for a few miles, about his weekend, about mine, about how the wind was picking up and now right in our faces. I told him about Eleanor's auditions for Beauty and the Beast, and I confessed that Tim and I had killed the battery in the van that morning while in Buffalo and had no booster cables. Every so often I would have a minor cough attack and bring up some of those lovely "chest chunkies" that come with these chest colds. But overall, I was feeling good.
Around the 30km mark, we started to see people dropping off as often happens in marathons around this point. Often the result of improper nutrition, pacing, or race preparation.

By 35km, my hamstring had started to feel like a cold rubber band. Sticky and not so stretchy. I could feel it creaking with each stride. I tried to put it out of my mind and kept pace.
The aid stations ticked by.
At one point Ian pulled off the course for a pit stop. When he caught up to me again, he told me there was another girl a few minutes back. No threat at this pace, but warned me not to slow down. No problem.
We hit the last aid station, about 3km from the finish line. At this point Ian noticed another girl in a pink running skirt who seemed to be picking up her pace, and had passed the other girl. Her pace was a bit more of a threat. Ian told me about her and said "if you've got anything left to give, give it now". I picked up my pace. There was no way anyone wearing a "running skirt" was going to pass me. Sorry. Within a minute or so, she was off the radar.
We hit 41km, and who should Ian see about 15 feet in front of me. White shirt girl. "Pick it up" he told me. "Get her". I picked it up, I got her, and I wanted to puke. My hamstring was screaming and my lungs were chunky. "Don't let her pass you" I heard Ian say. "Come on, pick it up and keep it". "Hold it". I did. Ian pulled off the course as I approached the finishers chute with white shirt girl at a safe distance behind me.
I finished in 3:25:57, securing 2nd place in the F25-29 division and 10th place in the overall women's field.
The Niagara marathon was a good day, and a fun run. It was my last Horrah.

Now it's time to focus on healing my hamstring and obturator. An intense few weeks of T.E.N.S, A.R.T, Massage therapy and patience are in store for me.
I know Ian is happy for this break. It will give him a chance to put some more power into my ride. Fun for him, torture for me.

November 1st is the Road2Hope marathon in Hamilton. I had been asked by a friend to pace her for Boston that day. She needs to run a 3:50 marathon to qualify for Boston, and missed her time by mere minutes at Scotiabank last month.
I know I can pace her to a 3:50 no problem, and the plan up until now was for me to do just that. I have decided, and my friend agrees that I need to sit this one out if I want to heal what plagues me.
Secretly though, I know she can do this without me. She will definitely be in my thoughts on Sunday and I look forward to hearing her great news.
See you in Boston, T! It will be great to have your company!

Welcoming a couple new additions....

2009-10-09T07:56:00.006-04:00

.....to my family of sponsors!

I'm happy to announce that I have recently teamed up with Body Systems Nutrition in Milton! New in town and located at 81 James Snow Parkway, Body Systems specializes in providing everyone from exercise enthusiasts, to body builders, to gym buffs with the proper combinations of protein powders and supplements to help build the body of one's dreams!

My gig is to help the Milton location expand their Endurance section. Currently, they stock a wide variety of gels, electrolyte replacements, and other nutritional supplements designed with the endurance athlete in mind. Dwayne Rundle, owner of Milton Body Systems has asked me to help tweak the offering and be sure that Milton's endurance athletes have a one-stop shopping option to pick up exactly what they need for their next event.
Next time you're out, be sure to stop by Body Systems to check out their bounty! And definitely try one of their super delicious frozen shakes, made fresh on the spot. My pick of the week is defenitely the Chocolate-Peanut Butter. Mmmmm.

I am also pleased to announce that I have been chosen as an ambassador for Reflect Sports. Reflect Sports is an up and coming company based out of Ladera Ranch, CA.
They have an awesome line of hair care products called Reflect H20 designed with the female swimmer and triathlete in mind. The shampoo, conditioner and sun protecting gel are amazing. No more green, limp swimmers hair for me!

I have to say though, that my ultimate favourite of their products is the Hoo Ha Ride Glide. Finally a chamois cream designed specifically for women! I have tried a many a chamois cream, and have found some pretty decent ones. This one is by far, my favourite! No more saddle sores. I can hardly wait to get out for my next six hour ride on my new glide!!
Although Reflect Sports is based out of California, you will soon be able to buy their products from Younique Cycles right here in Milton! Yeah!!

Run for the Toad

2009-10-06T05:37:00.024-04:00

Run for the Toad. A four-loop, 50km race through damp forest, and rolling trail terrain. What better way to spend a rainy, muddy, mucky Saturday morning?! Well, that depends on who you ask. If you ask me; I could think of maybe one better way (in bed with my box of Kleenex since I was in the middle of a lovely Fall season cold). But if you ask my coach, I'm certain he could list at least ten better ways for both of us to spend that particular morning. Ian was not in favour of my participation in this race from the start because of the way it clashed with my A-priority races. Somehow, I managed to convince him that given the circumstances under which I was registered, I kind of had an obligation to go. Reluctantly, he agreed. I hadn't exactly trained for it. I had come off a few light weeks after Ironman, and was just getting back into a somewhat structured schedule as race day approached. Ian made the best of the time we had and was able to toss a couple short, but really mean hill workouts into my schedule.
Race week arrived, and low and behold, a lovely seasonal cold virus swept through our house. I'm not sure who brought it in. The twins, or maybe one of my older kids brought it home from school one day. Who knows. Regardless how how it got here; it did. My body refused to live by the age old rule that Moms are too busy and too imperative to the household to get sick. I was sick. With only a few days until the race, Ian pulled back my training volume and tried to convince me that switching from the 50km event to the 25km event was something I should consider. Ha ha. This was obviously an excellent opportunity for Ian to learn a little more about me. We sat down and I explained that there was no way I would complete the two-loop course when I had my mind set on the four-looper. If my choice was between 25km or nothing, I would defenitely choose nothing. At least then, I wouldn't have to miss Ethan's hockey game which I was incredibly bummed about missing in the first place. We had a minor argument about risk versus reward, and in the end came to an agreement. Seeing that it was a looped course, he would see me several times throughout the race. If at any point during the day he saw that I was not looking well enough to continue in HIS opinion, he would pull me off the course with no, well, maybe a little argument from me. Reluctantly, I agreed.
We arrived at the race site, picked up my race kit and focused on keeping my feet dry unitl the race start. It had rained for two days prior to the race. The grass was soggy, and the trails in some spots were deep muck. Ian and I started to discuss race strategy, but quickly dropped it remembering that this was not a race (for me anyway). I was there to just finish as a training run, and above all, not worsen my cold. I found my place at the start line with strict instructions to keep my heart rate in down in low zone three for the duration.
The 50km race consisted of four 12.5km loops. I'm generally not a fan of looped courses. This race reminded me why. Something about knowing what looms ahead and having to pass it not once, or twice, or three times, but four times. Some people fear the unknown and quite like the familiarity of a race like this I guess. I'm much better off not knowing what lies ahead and just going at it as hard as it comes at me. Ignorance truly is bliss sometimes; for me anyway. The first and second laps were pretty congested since both the 25km and 50km races began at the same time. As much as I dislike loops, I was glad when the first one was over since I knew what the worst of it looked like. Now all I had to do was run it three more times. Aside from the blisters I could feel developing on the bottoms of my feet, I was feeling pretty good. After I finished my second lap, the field thinned out quite a bit.
I have a nagging hamstring injury that decides to crop up once in a while. Today was no exception. By the time I saw Ian on my third lap, I called for my trusty stick of Bio Freeze. A quick stop to slather my leg, and I was back on. Shortly after I passed the 10km marker on that third lap, I saw a woman lying on the side of the trail amongst all the mud and muck that had been churned up by hundreds of runners. I stopped to ask her if she was alright. She looked up at me with a pian in her eyes that almost knocked me over. She had hurt her legs and she was in too much pain to get up. She said she had been crawling along for 45 minutes and nobody had bothered to see if she was alright. Moments like this really ignite an anger toward the human spirit for me. 45 minutes. How many people passed this poor girl in 45 minutes and didn't bother to even try and help her?! Although, as runners, we are generally running as individuals; in a sense we are all in it together, from start to finish. I gave the girl what was left of my Bio Freeze for her legs, noted her Bib number and picked up my pace until I reached medical aid. Eventually, they sent someone out on an ATV to pick her up. I didn't see her again, and can only hope she is ok. While I was at medical aid, I took my shoes and socks off and smeared vaseline all over my feet which were now quite blistered. Shortly after that, I was back at the start heading out for my fourth and final lap.
My last lap went by fairly quickly. I was getting pretty tired of passing the same landmarks over and over. By this time, most of the trails were pretty churned up and very sloppy which increased the overall effort needed for each stride. Around this time, I realized I wasn't feeling that great. My feet were burning with pain, my hamstring was screaming, my head was congested and aching and I was starting to feel tired.
I remember thinking about Ethan, and his rep hockey try outs. On day four of the try outs, he came down with an ear infection that spread to his mastoid and caused it to swell so much that he couldn't get his helmet on. Maybe we share the same athletic genes, or maybe we just share the same level of outright stubborness, but there was no way he was going to let the pain get in the way of his last day of tryouts. His big chance; the moment he'd been waiting for since last season....which is a really long time for a six year old. He let us jam the helmet over his swollen head and out he went on the ice; clad in full goalie pads, pain, fever and all. His dedication was stronger than his pain that day, and he made the team.
I decided that for the rest of the race, I needed to be just a little bit more like my Ethan. Although this particular race didn't mean to me what rep hockey means to Ethan, I pushed through the burning blister pain and the screaming muscles and made it across the finish line.
Ian met me at the finish line with my dry clothes and I headed for the change rooms. When I came back, Ian was waiting for another one of his athletes to finish. Once he finished, we headed over to check the results. Somehow, in all that mess, I had managed to make podium. I placed 3rd female age 39 & Under, 5th overall female, and 17th overall finisher. Not bad for a training run that I really shouldn't have done. Ok, yes, I admit it. I probably shouldn't have run for the toad. But, like always, I'm glad I did.

A whole new level of Normal

2009-09-23T15:17:00.016-04:00

I'm not quite sure how it started, but our flight home from Penticton was full of discussions with fellow Iron people about sponsorships, coaching and all things "pro". It's no secret that throughout the season I had many people ask me if I would be racing pro next year, and after hearing "no" as a response, tell me that I should. After all, I had just come off an amazing season. I have to admit that the thought of it was exciting, but I also didn't know if I was ready.
And of course, I knew that Tim was very much looking forward to our lives returning to "normal" after Ironman; at least until next year. No double session training days and long hours of me away from the house, and no more tag team parenting as we began to call it. We had gotten into a groove of Tim walking in the door and me swimming, biking or running out.
Fall was supposed to be a time for us to get all the things done that we had been putting off during the Summer. Tim's to-do list of home Reno's grew longer and longer as the Summer months passed.
As I listened to Tim chatting away on the plane to Ryan Cain; 38th overall finisher at Ironman Canada, I wondered if he was actually thinking what everyone else had been thinking. Was it time for me to start taking this a little more seriously?
Once we got home and were unpacked and settled back into real life, somehow the conversation came up again. We discussed it from all angles and in the end, decided that I would put together a resume, pass it around and see what; if anything, became of it.
Within a week, I had a few meetings set up with potential sponsors, and within 3 weeks, I had even turned down a few offers.

I met up with Ian MacLean, owner of Imfit.ca and Younique Cycles at his studio a week or so after he had received my resume. He outlined what his expectations would be of me, and I discussed what I was hoping to gain through sponsorship. It was clear that he and I were on the same page. It also seemed as though we would get along really well. I continued to interview potential coaches, but in the end I decided that Ian was my first choice for coaching. Above and beyond that, I was happy that he wanted me to represent IMFTIT and Younique Cycles.

Seeing that Younique Cycles specializes in custom bike fitting, the first order of business was for me to bring in my bikes for a proper fit. Remembering the seven hours rides I did with numb toes, a sore lower back, knee pain, and various other numb areas, I was curious to see if a proper fitting would take away those ailments.
The bike fitting process was a lot more elaborate than I had expected; and seeing the results made me wonder why more serious riders don't take advantage of it.

It took about 90 minutes to complete the fit process. It involved me on my bike hooked up to various sensors which produced several computerized images of all my body angles. Ian would ask me to pedal, stop me, and make small adjustments to my positioning on the bike, then have me pedal again until everything was literally perfect. The computer gave all sorts of crazy readings, and displayed various "blobs" on the screen which I later learned represented my pedal stroke. Not only did I walk out with a perfect bike fit, I had also learned where the weaknesses in my pedal stroke were, and direction on how correct them. Amazing.

The following week it was time for my V02 Max testing. I would be tested on both my ride and run.
I told Ian I had planned a swim workout for later that day. He laughed and pointed out that it was obvious I had never done a double V02 Max test before. It was a workout on its own. I was stubbornly unconvinced.
I showed up at the studio first thing in the morning after an overnight fast. I was instructed that breakfast and coffee were not allowed before the test. Ugh.
The first stage of the test was easy. I sat in a chair in a dark room with a mask over my nose and mouth. All I had to do was sit with my eyes closed and breathe normally for 15 minutes while Ian watched the exchange of gasses from my breathing patterns on his computer screen. These readings calculated my Resting Metabolic Rate (RMR), which in essence is how many calories my body burns per day at complete rest; meaning if I sat on the couch all day doing absolutely nothing. Interesting.

Next was the bike portion of the test. My bike was set up on a trainer and I was to pedal continuously. Every 2 minutes Ian would increase the resistance and I was to maintain a cadence of at least 85 RPM. Much like the resting test, I was wearing the face mask and gas exchanges were interpreted. In addition to that, the computer gave a reading of the wattage I was exerting each time the resistance increased. Ian was excited with the results to say the least. Me? Well, I was hot and tired, but I had to keep going. I looked over in the corner of the studio at the fan that stood there, not moving. I asked, almost begged if we could turn it on for the run test, but the answer was no. It could skew the results, and I'd have to do the test all over again. No thanks.

After a quick break and a few sips of water, I was ready for the run test. I put my face mask back on, Ian hooked me back up to the heart monitor and the computer. The run test was similar to the bike test, only I was set up on a treadmill. Every two minutes, Ian increased the speed on the treadmill by 1 MPH, until I was running as fast as the treadmill could go. Then he added an incline. I have to admit; I was not unhappy to hear him say it was time for cool down, meaning that I was done. I was absolutely drenched with sweat.

After I had changed and cooled off, it was time to see the results. I found it incredible how much there was to learn from these tests. Ian gave me a quick breakdown and later sent me a complete analysis of the results.
I walked away knowing more about my current level of fitness and athletic potential than I ever thought possible. Ian walked away with a solid starting point for my training, and a massive grin on his face as he saw my potential.
In two or three months we will repeat the test to measure my progress which will allow Ian to tweak my training schedule if needed.
I did still make it to my swim workout that afternoon. After hearing that, I'm guessing that Ian is wishing he'd pushed me a little harder during the tests. He'll get me next time, I'm sure.

I've been following Ian's training plan now for about 3 weeks. I am definitely never bored. Each session is a challenge in some way. But most of all, I am now actually looking forward to, and embracing my weekly rest day. In all my years of training and racing; this is a first. A really good first.
The coaching I'm getting is very interactive, and better overall than I would have expected from any of the coaches I interviewed. I feel like I'm getting the right amounts of everything. From sentimental encouragement to good old fashioned butt-kicking; Ian does it all, and at the right times.
There have been, and probably will me more instances where we have disagreements about things like race entries. Over the years I've become quite accustomed to entering races whenever I felt like it. Focused training is new to me, and I'm learning to listen to, and above all, trust my coach; even during my most stubborn moments. At the same time, Ian is learning a little more about me and who I am. I think he is seeing that sometimes what seems like me just being stubborn, is really just me being in tune with my own capabilities and limitations.

Currently in my off season, home life is fairly "normal". Tim and I may actually get a few of those home projects accomplished while my training volume is relatively low. Imagine!!
My off season happens to be my older son Ethan's, busy season. He is six years old, playing his first year of rep hockey. His training schedule is another story. A completely different definition of "insane"; and a whole new level of "busy".
Are things back to normal; as in pre-Ironman normal? Well, no, not really. But at the end of the day, I think Tim and I are both coming to accept that this may just be considered, the new "normal".

Ironmom- Turning my dream into reality

2009-09-19T10:28:00.002-04:00

On July 30th 2008 at 3:40pm and 3:45pm, I became a mother to my 3rd and 4th children. My two newest sons; Griffin and Oliver.
After a safe and uneventful pregnancy I finally had them in my arms, less than two weeks early. They were healthy babies, Tim and I were, and still are, very happy parents.

In the world of obstetrics, a multiple pregnancy is generally considered high risk. Given my already sketchy pregnancy history, I was banned from doing anything in excess of 40 minutes of light walking a day for the duration of the pregnancy. It was definitely a shock my system but one I was able to get used to. I knew there were two very good reasons behind this restriction.

I had a feeling that my first season of triathlon after the birth of the twins would be an interesting one. My training for Ironman Arizona in 2008 had come to an abrupt halt when we found out that the boys were on their way.
Time passed, along with race day in Arizona. But my dream remained constant. As my pregnancy progressed and my belly grew bigger, so did my aspirations of becoming an Ironman.
Less than two weeks after Griffin and Oliver were born, I went out for my first run in more than nine months. I have to admit, I was nervous about racing again. Afterall, it had been nearly two years. I wondered if I still had what it took. But at the same time, I could hardly wait for tri season to start; to see what I was made of. My training progressed over the Winter and I managed to fit in four marathons, including back to back marathon PR's with Boston qualifying times.

Seeing that I hadn't done a multipsort race in nearly 2 years, I wanted to start the season with something light and easy. I did Victoria's Du, finishing 3rd in my age group. A few weeks later I decided to do the Lakeside Sprint and finished 2nd in my age, and 3rd overall female. One of my favourite races every year is Muskoka long course. This year was no exception, it was on my list, and I just had to do it. I ended up finishing 2nd in my age group and got a spot for Ironman Canada 2009. I was completely stoked. My focus shifted that day. Instead of working out to race I was now training for Ironman, and I had exactly 11 weeks to get myself ready for the 3.8km swim, 180km ride and 42.2km run.
Over the next 11 weeks, I had to be a bit more selective with my races in relation to how they fit into my training. I raced Guelph Lake Olympic, Peterborough 1/2 Ironman, Belwood Sprint and Bracebridge 1/2 Ironman, placing 1st in my age group at all four races.
After my win at Bracebridge, it was time to think about tapering. For someone like me coming from a background of very unstructured training, this was a true test of mental and physical restraint. The urge to fit in an extra 7 hour ride or 40km run and a couple extra 5km pool sessions was so strong. I really had to focus on the reasons behind the taper, figure out ways to use my new found "free time" and channel my energy in ways unrelated to Ironman. Easier said than done. But, I somehow got through those two weeks relatively unscathed.
All of a sudden, 11 weeks had passed since my race in Huntsville. It was race week. Go time.
We started our journey (Twins in tow) out to Penticton on Thursday of race week. The flight to Kelowna was full of Ironman veterans and virgins like myself. You could cut the nervous energy with a knife. It was awesome.
We landed in Kelowna, picked up our rental car and made the one hour, very scenic drive through the Oakanagna valley to Penticton.

When we arrived in our hotel room, my bike, our double running stroller, 2 playpens and 2 high chairs, plus my hockey bag full of race gear was already there waiting for us. (Thanks Keith).
We decided to drive the bike course on the first day to get that out of the way and tame my wild imagination. The drive took over 2 hours. It's funny how much longer 180 km seems in a car than on a bike. Equally funny is how a car can make giant climbs look easy. Almost. Needless to say I was glad when we reached the top of Richter's Pass, even if by car. At least then I knew what I was in for. There really isn't much terrain close to where we live that even comes close to the IM Canada course. It looked challenging, and I was up for it.

The next morning I hopped on my bike for a short 90 minute ride up and into the mountains. The sun was just coming up and the view of the valley was absolutely amazing. I could have ridden the entire day. But knowing that in less than 48 hours, I had to cover 140.6 miles, I knew I needed to keep it short.
Later that morning we all headed to athletes village for the first time. First stop was the merchandise tent to load up on IM branded stuff. I bought something for just about everyone! Heaven.
Next was registration. The line up was long, even though it was the second day, but I was in the tent in less than an hour.
Once in there, the process went fairly quickly. I checked in, weighed in, got my bracelet, swim cap, timing chip, and of course my coupon for a free pair of Crocs Prepair sandals. (The line up for THAT tent was a different story). Good thing I'm not a Crocs fan.
I have to say that it was during the registration process that I saw for myself what I'd heard everyone say about the volunteers at Ironman Canada. They are simply amazing people.
As I walked out of the tent and looked down to my wrist at the sparkly purple wristband that had just been put on my arm, it hit me. I was about to (hopefully, with any luck) become an Ironman.

For the rest of the day, we kept things low key. A mandatory trip to Penticton's premier bike shop; Bike Barn (I could have spent all day in there!), some lunch and a trip to the beach.
After lunch we decided to head back to our room for a rest.
Shortly after that, we got a call from the hotel front desk. I had a visitor! (A visitor?!)....
My Dad had flown out to cheer me on! I was completely stoked, and a few hours later my brother also arrived. Any nerves I had at that point were replaced with gratitude for all the people who were there for me that weekend.

The next day came quickly, and it was time to take my bike and gear bags down to transition for check in. I packed up and rode my bike down to the beach. After a triple check of brakes, drive train and tires, I racked my bike and said my good-byes. Tomorrow would be a long day for both of us. Then I dropped of my ride and run gear bags. After that, the day was free. Well almost; I had one small detail to take care of. Registration for 2010. I waited for 90 minutes, but was 5th in line. I much preferred that over coming later and camping out for 4 hours like I saw some people do. (A few even had camping BBQ's with them). Nuts.
The rest of the day went by quickly. We went down to the race start, I got my wetsuit on and went out into the water for one last workout, and to get a feel for the lake. I was very impressed. The water was so clear in the shallow areas. You could easily tell where it became deeper. After a relatively short swim, I got out, peeled off my wetsuit and called it a day. Time to leave the race site and get some dinner.

After dinner we said good night in hopes of getting a good night's sleep. My alarm was set for 3:45am. Easier said than done with the boys. Griffin had a bad night and was up from 10:00pm until about 2:30am. Tim ended up taking him out for a drive to get him to sleep. I probably ended up with 3 hours of broken sleep by the time it was all said and done. Thinking back, I'm not sure I would have slept more than that anyway with all that was going on in my head. Besides, I'd been living on broken sleep since the middle of my pregnancy. What's one more night?!

Tim and I snuck out of the room just before 4:30am, leaving the twins with my dad until later on in the morning. The plan was that Tim would go back and get them around 6am to get back to the race site for the 7am start.
I drop off my special needs bags, lined up for body marking and made a final stop at my bike to fill the tires and give it a final once over in the dark. Transition was a crazy place at that time, I got out of there as quickly as possible. I found Tim, handed off my bike pump and said my good byes. He left to get the family, and now I was alone with my swim gear, my thoughts, and the endless potty line ups for the remaining hour and a half before the start. I felt pretty relaxed at this point. I had not set any time goals or expectations for this race since it was my first of this distance. I just wanted to be an Ironman, not matter how long it took me. This definitely took the pressure off.

I took the time do do some stretches, took in a few calories and some water and chatted with a few others sitting nearby. The time went by very quickly. I must have done a very good job at getting lost in my thoughts because all of a sudden I looked up and everyone around me was clad in their wetsuits. I followed suit and headed down to the beach to drop off my dry clothes bag. I got there in enough time to see the pros start their swim. The national anthem began which triggered a very emotional moment for me. I scanned the massive crowds knowing that somewhere, among the throngs of people were Tim, my Dad, my brother and my youngest boys. I found myself thinking about all the training I put forth to get to where I was standing, and all the sacrifices my family had made for me to make it all possible. I felt the soft bottom of the lake between my toes and the water over my legs. I experienced an intense moment of gratitude and appreciation for my life and those in it. As I thought about all the support I had received not only in the past two months, but over the past few years in the jigsaw puzzle that had become my life. That was a feeling I don't think I can ever recreate. I had a tear of happiness and pride in my eye.
The countdown began and I regained focus just before the horn blew, the clock started and this long awaited, hard earned day began.

I have taken part in several mass swim starts over the past five years. None of which have ever come even remotely close to the magnitude of Ironman Canada. 2600 people, pushing out to begin their 3.8km swim at the exact same moment. It was madness. It took what felt like a very long time to find enough open water to get in a decent swim stroke. There was much bumping around and I sustained several hard blows to my head and face. I didn't care, I knew it was going to happen, there was nothing I could do about it and nothing was going to stop me. I kept going. The crowding didn't let up like I had expected it to. There were way too many people in the water to spread out enough. I did eventually get into a semi decent rhythm and made my way around the turn markers (and yes, I did see the infamous scuba divers at the bottom of the lake). Soon I was heading back towards the beach. The last 1000m felt quite long. I think it was because I could see the beach and I could hear the announcer, the crowds, and the media helicopters overhead. However, for a few minutes I really felt like I was going nowhere.
Finally I approach the beach. I swim as far in as I can knowing that I can swim faster than I can run through knee deep water. (I always wonder why more people don't do this.) I come out of the water, and hear my name announced. I drop to the grass and succumb to the 3 volunteers assigned to strip me of my wetsuit. They do so in record time. This is by far one of the best parts of the day. They toss me my wetsuit, I go find my ride gear bag and make my way into the change tent.

Although I was tempted to get through my transitions at race pace since this is what I was used to, I stuck to my "no time goal" plan and kept things relaxed. I had decided before the race to race all three legs in the same outfit; again this what I was used to doing. Once in the tent I took the time to dry my feet, get my socks, bike shoes and helmet on. This is also when I slipped on the beaded bracelet that my two older kids had made for me especially for this day. It said "Ironman" on it and had hearts all around. I chose not to wear it during the swim in case I lost it. I looked at this bracelet several times over the course of the day . Thanks guys.
I let my volunteer spray me down with sunscreen and off I went to find my bike.
As I left T1 and passed over the timing mat, I heard the announcer listing off my '09race stats. This surprised me somewhat. I thought it was very cool that the nice folks at IMC headquarters took the time to look me up.

The first part of the bike course took us along the main drag in Penticton which is lined thick with spectators. The energy was amazing. I knew I wanted to keep my ride fairly easy, so about 40 minutes in when I looked at my speed which was holding steady at 44kph, I knew I had to pull back. Once the crowds thinned out, it was easier to do. I managed to take it easy on the first few sets of rollers and soon I was out in Okanagan wine country. The scenery was beautiful. Once through Oliver and Osoyoos, I knew what lay just around the corner. The highly anticipated Richter's Pass. I stopped at the aid station at the base of the climb to take a bathroom break and adjust my rear brake as it was rubbing on the rim. I didn't want any extra resistance up the mountain.
The climb through Richter's Pass was challenging, but not deadly. I am a strong climber and was very thankful for that at that point. (I later find out that this is thanks to my incredible power to weight ratio). I found myself passing guys who looked to be having a much harder time than me.
By the time I got to special needs the temperature was at its high; 33 degrees. The heat there is better than the heat in Ontario in that its a dry heat, making it much more bearable. At special needs I took another bathroom break, grabbed my PB sandwich, some Bio-Freeze for my back and headed back out onto the course. The rest of the course was rollers until we hit yellow lake, which is another climb similar to Richter's. The real difference here is that it is so much farther in on the course and athlete energy reserves are a bit lower. I took the climb the same way I took Richter's. I ended up climbing beside a guy who struck up a conversation with me. It was a nice distraction and I found myself telling him stuff about my life that I would never have told a random stranger. (Poor guy) Haha.
After yellow lake (which was very pretty) we were faced with some more rollers until we made our final climb to the top of the mountain and back out onto the highway. From here we had a 14km trek back into Penticton. Most of this was downhill, which was very welcomed by all at this point. After we finished our descent into the valley, we were hit with a strong headwind which didn't let up until we were back in T2. I tried to put it out of my mind, knowing that I was almost done the ride.
Once over the timing mat I handed my bike off to the volunteers, went to find my run gear bag and headed back into the changing tent.

I changed socks before the run (I just had a feeling it would be a good idea to start with a fresh pair); got my shoes on and headed out on the run course.
The first 10km of the marathon was lined with people; lots of cheering going on. We passed a lot of pubs and restaurants crowded with fans who'd obviously been drinking since lunchtime. It was quite entertaining to hear what they had to say to us as words of encouragement.
I passed my family just as I was leaving town. I stopped to admire the t-shirts Tim had made for the boys which said "we love our Ironmom" (complete with m-dot logos). I blew the boys each a quiet kiss, secretly jealous that they were deep in sleep and I was running through intense heat. Thank god for wet sponges.
After we made it back through town, we headed towards OK falls; a nice scenic route along that lake. It was a fairly hilly route, and there were some pretty quiet times when there were few spectators. Most of the other athletes at this point were too tired for much conversation. I plugged away, knocking off one mile at a time determined not to walk a step until I reached the finish line. I was about 9 miles in when I started to see the pros on their way back to Penticton from the turnaround at OK falls. It was awesome to be so close to the racers I usually only see in magazines. A few of my idols, Belinda Granger and Tara Norton. Very cool. I also saw a few of the "regular" pros who I see at local races. Also, very cool to see them out there.
I hit the turnaround and grabbed my special needs bag, but didn't take anything from it. Nothing was appealing to me at that point. I made a quick pit stop and was off on my way back for the final 13 miles.
I saw Tim just after I hit the turnaround. He had somehow managed to drive the course on the way out.
As I made my way back, I passed so many people still making their working on the first half of the marathon. Some looking close to death. I did a mental check of how I was feeling and realized that I was feeling great, and happy to not be one of those other people.
When I hit 30km the reality of how close I was to finishing sunk in. Only 12km to go. I looked at my watch for the first time all day and realized that if I kept my pace I could come in under 12 hours. I liked that idea. I kept on and pushed through the hills and past all the people who were starting to fade. I made my way back into town and rode the energy from the crowds for a few miles. There were still athletes just starting their run at this point.
I saw my family around mile 25 and yelled to them "see you in 1.6 miles!" and kept on going. As I approached the finish line I slowed down for a moment. I remembered a good friend telling me to savour the last moments of the race, because in no time at all, all that time and energy spent training, and all the things that had been invested into getting me to this sweet moment would all be a thing of the past. I thought again about the personal sacrifices I had made, and those that my family had made for me. There is no question, I felt incredibly lucky. I took in as much as I could in that last minute and dedicated it in my head to that friend who, just the year before was not as fortunate to cross the finish line feeling as strong and happy as I was. 11 hours, 8 minutes and 51 seconds after the start of the race, and exactly 13 months after the birth of the twins, I finally heard them. The words that I had been wanting to hear for months, well OK; years. "Lesley Rasmussen of Milton Ontario. You. are. an. IronMAN!" Yes I was. Yes, I am.