Things Not to Do on a Triathlon

I have been doing triathlons for about 7 years and it has been a slow learning curve.  So I thought I would assemble a few things I have learned over the years.

1.  Do not do a race in a wetsuit if you have never worn one before.  See previous blog about Cobourg.  It is an entirely different experience swimming in a wet suit. 

2.  Do not take eyes off the road even if a hot shirtless man is mowing his lawn.  Did this at the Musselman Half Ironman in 2010 and slid off the road into sand and crashed my new bike going about 33 km/h resulting in torn shorts,  split forehead above left eye and loss of about 5 lbs of skin from road rash.  Every step of the run was agony and a painful reminder to keep eyes on road!!

3.  Do not try out new products the day of a race even when they say "designed for women by women" - especially an ironman.  Decided to try out some new "YooHoo" cream on the day of Ironman Canada 2011.  For someone who has such sensitive skin that I burn if I stand too close to a 50 watt lightbult and cannot use Crest toothpaste because it burns the skin on my face, I am not sure why I thought it was a good idea to try MINT YooHoo cream instead of my usual butt butter on race day.  That is a burning sensation only rivaled by a bladder infection.  The first hour of the race was interesting.  There is no truth in advertising.

4.  Do not chew Sharkies when outside running if temperature drops below -10 degrees.  They freeze and lock onto your teeth like cement glue.  Then you have to wait until you run home and thaw out before you can open your mouth. 

5.  Run in your socks even if they are wet.  At the Muskoka 70.3 in 2008, it poured torrential rain the entire day.  When I got off the bike in transition, I had dry socks tucked into my running shoes and covered with a garbage bag.  Apparently I missed the herd of elephants that ran over my gear in transition because my stuff was strewn all over the place and my socks were soaked.  So I made the questionable decision to run without socks.  I really did not notice anything chafing until I hit a water puddle at 18 kms and thought someone had set my ankles on fire.  It had gone beyond chafing to gouges all around both ankles.  The last 3 kms were painful and I ran right into the medical tent.  It took forever for the wounds to heal.  See pictures below.  I still finished the race.

6.  Finally my friend Susan's favourite.  Wash all racing apparel before the race.  I purchased a new tri suit for the run at Ironman Lake Placid 2009.  I did not want to wash it - I wanted it pristine with all the good mojo still on it.  Despite injuring my calf muscle about 3 weeks before Ironman, I had a fabulous time doing the Ironman and smiled all day.  On the run I noticed that I was scratching a bit on the personal girl parts and assumed one of my gels had slid down inside my suit during the run - I had them tucked all over my suit including under my shoulder straps.  I finished the race and when we went back to the hotel after it was over, I was changing out of my tri suit and looked down and realized it was not a gel - I still had the crotch protector on my tri suit.  Sadly this was the suit that I tore falling off my bike at Musselman.

So there are are few hard learned lessons about what not to do training for a triathlon.  I hope my experiences save a lot of people from a lot of embarrassment.

Lisa

How It All Began

My Inspiration:

From early days, the only way to calm Tavis was motion so I carried him around in a snuggly at home.  We also walked laps around Whitby in the double stroller with his twin Ethan.  He loved to be outside and constantly moving.  Tav and I continued our walking for a couple years.  We invested in a running stroller and he became my partner and coach.  

I had heard of the Running Room and my husband suggested that since I was enjoying the running so much that maybe I should take one of the running courses offered.  I opted to do the Learn to Run on line because I thought I would be the oldest fatest person at the Running Room.   When I ran with Tavis, he was my heart rate monitor.  I usually ran talking or singing to him so when I got so out of breathe that was no longer possible, I knew it was time to slow down.  Tavis is non verbal but when he was in that running stroller, he never stopped communicating.  He giggled and talked to himself and yelled at me - I like to think he was yelling encouragement to me, especially on hills, and not actually laughing at my efforts.  The best runs were Saturday mornings when we got up and ran to the Marina in Whitby.  We would stop and sit on a bench and I describe to Tavis the lake, the boats at the Marina, birds, anything that I saw. 

When I ran without my son, I was surprised at my speed and distance but I was equally aware of how lonely I was without him.  I missed the squeals when we bounced up over a curb, I missed watching his little shoes kicking in the stroller, I missed telling him about my day, but most of all I missed the smile on his face when we got home and I bent down to pick him up out of the running stroller and would say “good run Tav”.  If it came down to a choice between being alone and running farther and faster or taking it slower with my son, Tavis won hands down every time.  I am no longer able to run with Tavis.  We have been unable to find a running stroller to accommodate his length and let’s face it - he is getting bigger and I am getting older. There are running strollers designed for special needs children but the cost is exorbitant.

I eventually did attend the Running Room in person.  One night they had a speaker come to talk about triathlons - a certain Paul Johnston.  At the conclusion of his talk, he said that he knew that at least one person in our group would do an Ironman - I swear he was looking right at me.  I went home and told Glen about it.  I had always been fascinated by triathlons and especially the amazing store of Rick and Dick Hoyt.  So I signed up for Paul's beginner triathlon classes at the Whitby Rec Centre.  The first night I went over and asked Paul's right hand, Christine Charest-Monty who was also the mother of twins, a year younger than mine, how she found the time to train for a triathlon.  She told me, if you want to do one, you will find the time.

The training was for three months.  I had a mountain bike and no idea how to swim.  The only thing I could do was run but I persevered.

Our try-a-tri was Guelph Lake.  The day of the race it was about 35 degrees in the shade and the try-a-tri started at 2:00 p.m.  I stood on the shore with Paul as he pointed out the bouys and decided I was not going to do the race.  I still think that Paul was just helping me into the water with that friendly shove but I may be wrong.  I used every stroke imagineable in the water and made up some new ones.  Lost my water bottle on the bike since I had no idea how to ride and drink at the same time.  The run was gruesome.  When I crossed the finish line - Paul has video - I was completely purple and had a white ring around my mouth from dehydration.  I cross the finish line and broke into tears when my husband hugged me and I told him I was never doing a triathlon again.  Glen said it might not be a good time to point out that I had already signed up for Paul's Summer Challenge and registered for the sprint in Cobourg.

I did not fare much better at the sprint in Cobourg.  I used a wet suit for the first time.  It was pouring rain, the water was choppy and if I could have wrestled that stupid thing off, I would have and left it at the bottom of the lake.  The kayaker came over to see if I was having an asthma attack.  I wanted to quit so badly but I always do my triathlons with my sons initials painted on my toenails so I ket thinking about my toenails and my Tavis and I kept swimming.  When I got out of the water, I was once again purple and crying.  Paul was an official that day and he came over to me when I was in transition and asked me what was wrong.  He told me to calm down and take it easy on my bike - my new Cannondale which I had got the week before and still had not learned to clip out of.  I jumped on my bike and away I went.  I fell off my bike on one of the hills and walked it but got back on.  In any event, I finished the race.

After my first season doing triathlons it was surprising I ever went back but by then Paul had his hooks in me and I had met my good friends Sue Typert and John Raccovali.  We have since done all our triathlons together including Ironman Lake Placid in 2009. 

I will be on my own for Ironman Texas 2012.  Sue will be there to cheer me on along with my amazing husband Glen who makes it possible for me to do triathlons at all.

I often wonder what would have happened if I have not been at that class at the Running Room and never met Paul.  I would be richer, probably fatter but I would not have met the amazing people that I now I call my friends and witnessed so many incredible stories.

The Reasons for the Journey

Six months from today on May 19th, 2012 I will be competing in Ironman Texas in The Woodlands, Texas.  My reasons for entering this race are twofold.  I want to honour the two "Ironmen" in my life - my son Tavis and my brother Kevin.

Tavis: 

Twelve years ago, my husband and I were blessed with the arrival of twin boys.  Due to complications during my pregnancy, the boys arrived 7 weeks premature and were delivered by emergency c-section weighing in at 3 lbs 3oz and 4 lbs 2 ozs - Tavis and Ethan.  Tavis was born with no vital signs but after a few minutes they were able to revive him.  For two days we were unsure whether Tavis, the smaller twin, would survive but he pulled through and after extensive testing we were told he had no residual problems from his difficult birth.  Eight months later, Tavis started having seizures and we were shattered to learn that Tavis had cerebral palsy (specifically spastic quadraplegia meaning all four of his limbs were affected), cortical visual impairment, and a spinal cyst. 

Today Tavis is twelve years old, non verbal, non mobile and confined to a wheelchair.  He has a wicked sense of humour and an infectious laugh.  To meet him is to love him.

Kevin:

Through every phase of my life, my brother Kevin was there for me.  Though we both married, had our own spouse and children, Kevin and I maintained a close relationship.  He was the epitome of what an older brother should be.  He loved me unconditionally but when I was in the wrong, he pulled no punches.

About 6 years ago, Kev started to not feel well.  The diagnosis was colon cancer.  Kev told me he was going to beat the cancer and he would be fine.  

5 years later after 3 years of chemotherapy, 5 weeks of radiation and 8 major surgeries my brother Kevin lost his battle with cancer and passed away at home on September 25^th, 2010 at 50 years of age surrounded by his wife of 29 years, Debra and his two children Meagan and Chad.

For 5 years I watched my brother battle against a demon he could not defeat.  The cancer would disappear in one spot, only to reappear in another.  Through it all Kevin maintained his dignity and grace.  He continued to farm - to plants his crops every spring and harvest them in the fall.  Every morning and evening he went out to feed his cattle.  He even drove other cancer patients to chemotherapy when they were too sick to do so.  When you asked him how he was, he was always “fine”.  He expected sympathy from no one and continued on his life as if the cancer was merely an inconvenience.  Ironman training is nothing compare to what Kevin endured in his fight to live.

I see Kevin everyday in my son Tavis.  Tav resembles his uncle with his big blue eyes and his funny patch of white hair at the back of his head that Kevin had when he was younger.  But mostly I see Kevin in the way that Tavis tackles life.  Everyday Tav, with an unrivalled perseverance, tries to do things we take for granted.  His fine motor skills are minimal, he is unable to feed himself, or dress himself and he is confined to a wheelchair but he takes it all in stride and he faces everyday with a smile.  He has accepted what life has given him and he is okay with it.

My ironman in Texas will be a fundraiser to support Grandview Children's Centre in Oshawa, Ontario.  Tavis first attended Grandview Children’s Centre for therapy when he was a year old.  The screaming and the crying – both me and Tav – must have scared the daylights out of the staff but the amazing therapists would continue on even though their ears must have been hurting from Tavis’ screaming and never lost patience with him.  Throughout the last 11 years Tavis has seen the therapists at Grandview for physical therapy, occupational therapy, and speech therapy. 

I am not sure what we would have done without Grandview.  Grandview has made arrangements for us to purchase equipment such as a wheelchair, car seat and braces; monitored and scheduled appointments for AFO fittings; supplied equipment; arranged to have someone look at our home for possible renovations; arranged appointments with doctors, hospitals; provided reports for our insurance company; and so much more.

When I decided to register for Ironman Texas 2012, I knew that I wanted to do a fundraiser in honour of my brother Kevin.   My husband Glen and I decided to do the fundraiser for Grandview Children’s Centre for a number of reasons.  Grandview has been constant in Tav’s life since he was a year old and we wanted to be able to somehow repay Grandview for all of their assistance over the years.  I was shocked to  recently learn that there are over 1,000 children on a waiting list for the services that Grandview offers and I am so delighted to be able to help Grandview in any way that I can.

My son Tavis is an Ironman to me.  I train for over a year for an ironman race and the day of the race arrives, I compete and it is over.  Tav’s ironman training is for life.  He never gets a day off from training, he never gets to hear the cheering of the crowd as he crosses the finish line, and he never gets to have a medal placed around his neck that tells the world that he has competed in one of the most gruelling endurance events ever.  He doesn’t, but he should.