New Blog!

Joy here...Some of you have noticed that basically since sometime in 2011, my entries on this blog have had less to do with running and more to do with some other sports that I've taken up, including cross-country skiing and cycling.  One of you even suggested that it's about time I changed the name of the blog to something that reflects this.  I've taken this to heart, and I've started up a new blog:

Training Joy.

So this is my fond farewell to this East and West Running blog, and from now on, if you are interested in my updates as I chart my training progress from knowing nothing about sport to running a couple of half marathons and starting to race bikes, check out the new blog:  www.trainingjoy.blogspot.ca.

See ya at the new blog!

Over and out,

Joy

Riding Etiquette and Consistency, or What I've Learned So Far...

Joy here...After our great ride on Tuesday with Training Payne in and around the Milton Ontario area, we had a few false starts with our ride goals for the rest of the week of our holidays.  And even though we somehow didn't manage a ride on Wednesday (thanks to a too-late night socializing on Tuesday), or a ride on Thursday (thanks to a too-late night socializing on Wednesday), we were all set for a good Sunday ride with a couple of my grad school friends who are super fit.

All loaded up and ready to go!

The girl has around a 1:30 half marathon time (and for reference, my two half marathons came in at 1:49 and 2:01, so she soundly kicks my butt as an athlete), and the guy has finished a half IronMan in 5:27 (and for reference, the average half IronMan time for men in his age group is 5:52, so he's a beast).  I've mentioned him before on the blog, because, bless him, he was there at the bottom of the killer hill at km 25 during my first (and only) 30km run.

Before our road trip, I stuck my courage to the proverbial sticking post and asked them if they'd be willing to take us out on a ride, and when they said "yes," I just had to keep my fingers crossed at hope that we'd be able to keep up with them.  So bright an early on Sunday morning, we headed over to their house to pick them up and load up the car with four bikes, supplies, and four friends, so that we could drive out to the country roads outside of the city.  And then, we were off...

...And what I've learned is that since I started riding my bike this summer and have been able to ride with more experienced riders, I've learned a lot about the sport and its etiquette...and, well, I have to admit, I like what I've learned.  This Sunday's ride was a textbook case in what I've learned and what I like about the kinds of unwritten rules governing good riding.

Below are three of the most important pieces of etiquette that I've learned that were textbook this weekend:

Bikes lined up at the halfway rest point.

1.)  Consistency - A rewarding ride is one that allows the rider to exert a consistent effort.  Now what that effort is--hard, easy, medium--depends on what his/her specific training goals for a given ride might be, but working to keep your cadence consistent, your speed consistent, your effort consistent, your power consistent etc. makes for a ride that feels like its worth your time.  Otherwise, anyone can go rip-roaring down the descents, slow down on the climbs, and then pedal inconsistently throughout the rest of the ride--pedal, pedal, pedal, coast, pedal, pedal, pedal, coast--and I think that kind of riding is the difference between riding for fun or commuting and cycling as a sport.  And this summer I've definitely started to come around to this sport of cycling.  So while we were out there on the road, the half IronMan triathlete beast friend of ours was set on keeping his power at 75%, so we pegged our efforts off his, and all four of us rode together.  It was super annoying when we were riding along, consistently, when a group of 3 guys passed us on the downhill, and then proceeded to ride slowly enough for us to have to pass them, only to have them speed up to try to prevent us from passing (which we ultimately did).  You know when you're driving on the highway and you have your cruise control set, and you're driving along at the same speed, and then you pull out to pass someone, and then they speed up?  And then you pull back behind them, only to have them slow down again?  You know how annoying that is?  Now imagine that on a bike.

We look happy, don't we?

2.)  Group Riding - When not riding alone, it's best to stay close to the wheel of the rider in front of you, and if the group is big enough that you're riding side-by-side as well, it's best to be as close as possible to the rider to your side.  This tight formation can allow you to draft and conserve energy, and, well, it's just more polite than hogging the entire road by riding way out from the curb, making other cyclists and cars swerve widely to get around your particular group of cycling buddies.  Our Sunday ride had us riding with two in front and two in the back, and we were able to carry on good conversation as we rode, trading in and out with who was riding beside whom.  It's up to the riders on the back not to get dropped off the pace of the riders in the front, rather than the duty of the riders up front to slow down for stragglers.

3.)  Communication - When riding with others--whether that's a single file pace line or a group--it's important for the riders in the front to signal to the riders behind when there are things on the road such as holes or gravel.  It's also up to those on front to signal when the group will be slowing down or stopping, and when going through an intersection, all riders need to look for traffic and let the others know if it's clear or not.  In this way, all riders operate almost as one unit, swerving around the same thing at the same time, slowing together, turning together, and keeping good form throughout.  And so while The Man and I had never done this ride before, we didn't feel lost or out of our element, because we just stayed with half IronMan triathlon beast, and he lead us through the rolling countryside with ease.

In the end, we had a great, consistent 90+km ride where we got to catch up with friends, plan world domination in the future, and enjoy a Sunday in the country!

Over and out,
Joy

Training Payne

Training Payne
(aka The Captain)

Joy here...Two years ago, The Man and I met an IronMan competitor through a mutual friend of ours (also an IronMan competitor).  I had just finished my first-ever running race (the 10km running race that Nomi and I did together), and I was high on that experience, and so when I met Training Payne, a triathlete from my hometown who had a very popular blog, I came up with the idea of this little blog as a way to chart the progress that Nomi and I might make on the heels of our first-ever running race.

In October 2011, I gave him a shout out in my race report from my first-ever half marathon, and when he and our friend who introduced him to us in the first place were both coming to compete in last year's Lake Placid IronMan, we had them both over to our house with a bunch of our other friends.

The view up to the Niagara Escarpment.

This year, when we decided to hop in our car to take a one-week road trip vacation, one of the places on our "must visit" list was this guy's house.  Both he and his wife are super fun, generous, and open-hearted people, and their kids--a daughter in university and a son in high school--are really good kids too.  So we showed up on the doorstep of the House of Payne with our bikes and our bags and hoped that they wouldn't turn us away.

And they sure didn't.

Top of the Rattle Snake climb!

Training Payne took us out on an excellent bike ride for just under 70kms through some rolling countryside north of Burlington (averaging 27km/hr).  The sun was high up above us for our late afternoon ride, and there was a strong headwind making us seem a lot slower out of the gate than I would have thought, but as we warmed up our legs, got the conversation going, and got used to the wind, we fell into a good and comfortable pace.

And then we approached Rattle Snake Climb.

It's a zig-zagging climb up to the highest part of Rattlesnake Point, and one Toronto cyclist calls it a "monster," describing it:  "this is as close as it gets to an alpine climb in the GTA. Sure, it's not as long, but with multiple switchbacks and a crazy gradient, this is an absolute leg-breaker!" (click here for the site where I lifted this quotation from).  So as Training Payne, The Man, and I approached this steep hill, I put my bike into its easiest gear and just settled in for a long climb.  Training Payne was by my side, grovelling just as I was.  The Man?  He was nowhere in sight.  He just stood up on his pedals and rode out of our sight.  I just pedalled as much as I could, but about halfway up, I needed to pull over in a driveway to have a drink...I stopped and clipped out of my pedals.  Training Payne stopped with me.  Then when I was done having a drink, I couldn't get clipped back in!  The gradient was so steep that I couldn't get enough speed to clip in and keep on going.  Training Payne waited until I was clipped in, and then on we went again...onwards, upwards...onwards, upwards...onwards, upwards.

Post-ride libation courtesy of the
amazing hospitality of the House of Payne!

And then we saw The Man near the top; "it's only about 60 more meters to go!" he shouted, but then the road turned around once more and headed straight up.  I saw my speed go from 8km/hr to 6km/hr to  4km/hr, and I started to worry that I'd be going to darn slow that I would just fall right over, so I hopped off my bike, swallowed my pride, and humbly walked it up the last few steps to the top of the climb, where I then rested, huffed and puffed, and ate and drank, high-fiving Training Payne and The Man before continuing on with the rest of our ride.

And what a ride it was!  Each time I ride in the countryside around Ottawa, I end up feeling like something is ever-so-slightly lacking, but these roads through lush farmland, beautiful golf courses, large acreages, and over rolling hills were truly beautiful.  No offence to Eastern Ontario around Ottawa, but Southern Ontario sure does have some pretty sights!

The sunrise from Training Payne's backyard after
a night well spent with chit-chat!

On most of the climbs, The Man and Training Payne would drop me, and I would just ride at my own pace until I would catch up to them on the flats or the downhill, so I wasn't feeling too bad about my abilities.  On one of the climbs, I just stayed right behind Training Payne, and try as he might, he just couldn't shake me.  I just kept going with him pedal for pedal, and then as we turned towards the last stretch of straight road on the way back to his house, he and The Man were topping speeds of 57km/hr, and I was just flying at 52km/hr with that tough headwind finally becoming a blessed tailwind!

We turned into his driveway, unloaded our stuff, and then showered and were treated to dinner and all-night socializing with Training Payne and his wife.

There's no better way to close out a post-ride high.

Thanks TP!

Over and out,
Joy

50km Recovery Ride: Watch your Dog!

Us with the Ottawa River behind us
and the blue skies above us.

Joy here...With yesterday's 108km ride in our legs, a few of us--my new friend Trish Turbo and her coach (now MY coach) Andrew, The Man, myself, and a fellow rider, ex pro-football player Jed (aka Handsome Jed)--decided that we'd head out for a nice, easy recovery ride this morning.

So we rode out from our Kanata hotel past the start line from yesterday's event, and towards the bike paths.  The sun was high; the grass was dry, and we were ready to fly.  Well, not really.  Even though all our legs felt peppy and ready to go, we reigned ourselves in (for the most part) and rode at a leisurely 30km/hr (even slower on the bike path sections), chatting with each other, and stopping for a few photo ops along the way.

And while there were many fun things about today's 50km ride, many laughs, many good conversations, and lots of friendships cemented, there were a couple of not-so-good moments that bear mentioning.

The Man, Andrew (my new coach), Turbo, and
me.

You see, in Ottawa there are these great multi-use recreational paths.  I usually just refer to them as the "bike paths" (as above), but in all honesty, they're shared by loads of people.  I've run along these paths more times than I can count and first blogged about them nearly two years ago.  People of all shapes and sizes, all ages, and doing all sports use these paths.  There are parents with kids in strollers; there are cyclists; there are recreational bike riders; there are runners; there are walkers; there are rollerbladers; there are skateboarders; and there are dog walkers.

Dog walkers.

That's where we're going today.

Two days ago, during Stage 18 of the Tour de France, former Belgian national champion Philippe Gilbert (who I saw in person last year at the Montreal Grand Prix), amongst others, was injured when a big dog ran out into the middle of the cyclists out there riding their hearts out for Tour de France glory.  Gilbert had to be held back as he gave those dog owners a piece of his mind (no doubt a profanity-filled piece at that).

Philippe Gilbert fearing his Olympic dreams may be
crushed because of irresponsible dog owners.
(Photo Courtesy of Velo News)

Now, I don't have anything against dogs.  I'm not a big dog hater or anything like that.  In fact, I have quite a soft spot in my heart for many of my friends' dogs.  However, I do have a pretty big hate on for irresponsible dog owners.  But while it may be rude or inconsiderate for dog owners to leave their dog's shit on the sidewalk, it's downright dangerous for dog owners to fail to keep their dogs on leashes in public contexts.

As our little group of 5 recovering cyclists headed out on our leisurely ride today, I was thinking of poor Gilbert and all the other cyclists who get taken out by careless owners who let their dogs randomly walk in front of a pro peloton...dangerous to both cyclists and dogs alike.  And as I was musing on the stupidity of some people out there who put the lives of cyclists and the life of their pet at risk by being irresponsible, what should we come upon?  You guessed it.  There was a lady just walking along the path...ON THE WRONG SIDE...carrying her coffee in one hand...with her dog trotting along three feet in front of her...WITH NO LEASH.  So not only was stupidhead walking on the left side of the path, forcing us to veer around her into the other lane, but she was just merrily letting her dog go unleashed on a public, multi-use path, not only putting cyclists at risk, but probably scaring the pants off any dog-fearing path user as well.

Here's a clip from the 2007 Tour de France.

I just shook my head and thought mean thoughts about her.

Then we turned around a bend in the road to come upon a guy on roller blades with his dog on the leash.  Sounds good so far, right?  Yeah, it would have been good if he either knew how to use roller blades, or had his dog under control.  Neither was the case.  The dog was pulling him left and right, and  he was wobbling around utterly unstably.  Then his dog jumped on another rollerblader as his owner rolled right into the ditch at the side of the path.  Seeing all this, I turned to the group behind me:  "go slow, dog ahead!" I shouted, as I took our speed right down to a crawl so that we could stop, veer, or react as necessary.  The guy merely looked at us sheepishly.

So now I take a moment for crazy-coffee-no-leash-lady and stupid-rollerblader-no-control-guy and any other dog owners out there wanting to take pets out into shared public spaces where there might be folks with wheels:  BE CAREFUL!  Unless you're at a leashes-off dog park, please keep your dog on a leash.  Please.

I will just enjoy my friends' dogs...all the fun, none of the responsibility!

Over and out,
Joy

100km Medio Fondo (Second Ever Metric Century)

Joy here...Last August I signed up for and completed my very first metric century ride (100kms).  I rode with a group of people out on a cold and windy day as part of the "Share the Road" initiative.

The long line of keen cyclists waiting outside the
registration tent.

This July I signed up for my very second metric century ride (100kms), as part of the 1st annual Ottawa Gran Fondo...a three-distance event organized in the spirit of gran fondo rides in other parts of the world.  There's a SuprFondo (220kms), a GranFondo (170kms), and a MedioFondo (100kms).

We signed in on Friday, and as this is just the first year of the event, there are a few wrinkles still to be ironed out in the execution of the event...I don't want to complain, because I'm super happy that this event exists, but the line ups to register were INSANE.  After our looooooong wait to register and get our kit, we went for a much-needed drink, followed by dinner at the hotel, where one, by one, we texted our other friends who were riding and lured them from the line up to the dinner table.

Post-Registration, Pre-
Ride libation.

Why wait in line when you can
hang out with friends??

Then we got up bright and early on Saturday morning, and my new fast friend, Turbo Tricia, (who I met on Thursday and then rode with on Friday) told us that she opted to ride the 100km distance with me and The Man.  We met up under the blue sky and hot sun for our 9am start time and got right up to the front of the starters.

We thought we'd average around 30km/hr, taking it easy as we rode over the rolling terrain through the countryside to the west of Ottawa, but as soon as the announcer said "Go!" that front group (with us in it) was off like a shot!  We were racing out of there at speeds around 40km/hr.  Soon a tight, but fast group arranged itself around us, with that little Turbo up on the front, and me working in the group, staying on the wheel of the person in front of me.  It was faster than I thought we would be going, but I felt good and strong.  The group was working well together, with some strong riders up front, and the rest of us along for a fast, hard ride through the countryside.

My average speed...just under 33km/hr.

At around the 30km mark, we wheeled into the first water/toilet station.  As is usual for me, I was in the portapotty before the wheels on my bike stopped turning.  When I got back on my bike and headed out with the rest of the group, we were still on our hell-for-leather pace.  I was sweating under the ever warming summer sun, but I was able to hold the wheels of the strong rider in the group; I was able to take my turn on the front pulling the group; I was able to stay strong over the rollers; and I was feeling great...like there was nothing my legs couldn't do.

At around the 60km mark, we had to take a detour for the next water/toilet station.  By that point I was all out of water.  My two 750ml bottles were utterly dry, as I had been sucking on them for the previous hour and a half.  I filled them up with stale (but icy cold) water from the coolers at the feed station, and then our group rolled out.  Unfortunately, a few of us got caught behind traffic trying to pull out of the feed station.  While the stronger riders up front peeled away from us, some of us were stuck watching traffic go by.  Then when our opportunity presented itself, I pulled out and put my head down and just time trialled away on my own to catch up with everyone (including The Man who had made the split).  I was riding at over 40km/hr, and the rest of the group who had been caught behind with me couldn't hold my wheel.  I was on my own, when I saw the group up ahead.  They were just rolling away from a stop light and were slow enough for me to catch them.  I slowed down to the 35km/hr pace that the group was holding, but my legs were tired.  Our group was a lot smaller than it had been before the split at the last feed station.

So with two strong guys up front, Turbo, me, The Man, and a couple of others, we rolled onwards, over a rough gravel section of road and onwards to the last 1/3 of the metric century.

And then my back pain showed up.

Not again!!!!

That back pain first appeared at my first ever bunch fondo ride back in May, and then it showed up with a vengeance when The Man and I rode two loops of the park before the bike race, but it was a real pain in the back during my first ever bike race last Sunday, and now it was here again, at kilometre 79 of this 100km ride.  And with the arrival of the lower back pain, I experienced the departure of any power in my legs.

The group was riding, and my legs were turning, but those riders were getting farther and farther away from me.  I watched my speed go from 38km/hr, to 35km/hr, down to 32km/hr in a matter of seconds, all the while the group was riding away from me into the blue skies and rolling green hills.  The Man soft pedalled back to me, but I couldn't even catch up to him or shout to him to carry on.  I was just in my own, small world filled with pain.  I told him to go on, and he began his own time trial to catch up to the rest of the group.

I looked down to see that I was at kilometre 81, and I had less than 20 kilometres of pure suffering ahead of me.  Well, I figured I could do that.  So I just put my head down and went to a dark, dark hurty place.  I was sure that my back pain was actually renal failure from something in the mystery water I drank.  I saw a long life ahead of me with dialysis; I've seen Steel Magnolias...I know how bad that ends.

So I just put my head down and suffered my own, personal kidney damage, pedalling all by myself and just wallowing in self pity.

But then, at around kilometre 85, suddenly my legs were turning more quickly even through the back pain.  I caught up to another rider and clung to his heel for a while.  He had a sign on his back "I'm riding for Martine" with a link to the Princess Margaret Cancer care centre, ibelieveit.ca, on his back.  I don't know who Martine is, or what that person's battle is or why this guy was out there under a hot sun  by himself suffering through the final leg of a 100km ride, but it sure put my own little back pain into perspective.  After recovering on this guy's wheel for a while, I was feeling better, and I pulled in front of him; "hey, thanks for the tow, I'll take my turn on the front for a while," I said.  So we took turns pulling on the front, and we were joined by another girl who was out there suffering by herself.  The three of us rode together, each taking turns on the front, each making small talk, and each counting down the final kilometres.

And then we hit kilometre 100.

But we were in the middle of the country side.  There was no finish line.  There was no hotel.  There were only trees and rural country roads.

Kilometre 103:  Still nothing familiar.

My well deserved post ride meal & beer.

Kilometre 105:  Finally, we turned into a subdivision that looked familiar from Friday's "loosen the legs" ride.  I put my head down, pedalled, and my speed was back up to 40km/hr before I knew it.  The group of us all gathered together at the red light, and with nearly no time at all, we were turning down the road towards the finish line where The Man was waiting, people were cheering, and there was cold beer waiting for me at the conclusion of my second ever 100km ride.

Ride Stats:
Distance:  108km
Time:  3:17
Average Speed:  33km/hr

Over and out,
Joy

30km Loosen the Legs Ride!

Joy here...On the heels of my first ever bike race, the Gatineau Grand Prix (where I placed 6th, just in case you needed a friendly reminder), I basically took this week off.  I took both Sunday and Monday as pure rest days and did a whole lot of nothing.

Then on Tuesday I did a short bike workout.  On Wednesday I did nothing, and on Thursday I did strength training with The Trainer.

Some of the folks out for an easy, peasy
"loosen the legs" Friday afternoon ride.

But Saturday was the Ottawa GranFondo, a fondo cycling event organized by local cyclist and all around great guy, Greg Capello, and I had signed up for the 100km event (there's also a 170km and 220km event).  So I knew I'd have to get out there and ride to loosen up my legs before Saturday's big 100km effort.

As luck would have it, The Man and I decided to check into the hotel at the start line of the fondo event--a little "staycation" for us--and ex-pro cyclist Andrew Randall who just retired after a 10 year long professional cycling career was leading a small group of riders out on a little ride just to get the blood flowing, and we joined up.

We rode easily out for around 15kms, and then at the turn around point, Andrew had us all start 30 seconds after each other in order to do a 5 minute effort.  "Don't time trial, or anything," he said, "just ride hard to get your legs firing."  Ha!  "Don't time trial"?  Really?  You're going to tell me to do a 5 minute effort and NOT treat it like a time trial?  Good luck.

So, yeah, I fanged it outta there like a maniac, hitting speeds around 49km/hr, chasing down the woman who started in front of me, but then I did slowly begin to realize that I couldn't actually sustain speeds over 40km/hr.  I slowed down to about 34km/hr and kept on going until we regrouped with the rest of the folks out for this easy "loosen the legs" pre-ride.  Then a category 3 UCI racer--who I nicknamed the "Pocket Rocket" since she's 5 feet tall and 105 pounds--and I went to the front of the group and rolled easily together back to the hotel, holding a nice, comfortable 30km/hr pace.  Trish-the-Pocket-Rocket, whose real nickname is "Turbo," and I chatted along the way, becoming fast friends.

Andrew is her cycling coach, and by the end of the ride, she had planted the idea in my head that he should be my cycling coach too.

So all-in-all it was a good, little "loosen the legs" ride, one that may just have netted me a new cycling coach.

Over and out,
Joy

First Ever Road Race: Gatineau Grand Prix (Loops #19 & #20)

Joy here...Earlier this spring I made the decision not to train for a full marathon this summer, even though my co-blogger, Nomi, has now gone on to do TWO full marathons (read about her first one here and her second one here) since we first started this blog as a way to track our training after competing in our first-ever running race (a 10km race in Singapore in May 2010).

Hot on the heels of the decision not to train for a full marathon, was my decision to take my cycling more seriously and throw myself into as many local events on the bike that I could find.

Race kit all set and ready to go!

So in May I competed in my first timed bunch bike ride--the Gatineau MedioFondo--as well as the 10km Time Trials--on three separate weeks in May, finishing in 17:51, then in 17:13, and finally in 16:59--now I'm also competing in the weekly 15km Time Trials--averaging around 25:45 so far--and back in mid-June I began toying with the idea of competing in my first ever real cycling road race, the local Gatineau Grand Prix (which, by the way, is the largest annual bike race in Canada, with over 600 participants in various categories).

Today was race day.

I did it.

It was just before 8am when we loaded the bike and the cooler and the supplies up in the car to head over to the park where the race start was (and where the more competitive categories were already out on the road racing).  It was already 30C by then, and by mid-day the mercury would reach 35C, feeling more like 41C with the humidex.  So it was hot, damn hot.  I rode around for approximately 40 minutes to try to warm up my legs by doing some hard efforts, and then, before I knew it, I was looking down at my clock and realizing it was time to roll my way over to the start line with the rest of my category's racers, the Novice Women.

Many were lined up along the side of the road by the start line, looking nervous and eager.  Most had never raced before, and we wished each other luck, and looked around to figure out the proper kind of start-line etiquette.  Should we be on the front?  Should we find a safe place at the back?  Is it better to be at the side of the group?  Since the Novice Women were starting with the Men 60+ category, there were about 40 of us all gathered in a group to begin.  I was on my bike behind an elderly guy who looked pretty fit, so I figured that he'd know what to do off the start line.  Then the race organizers counted us down, and we were off.

Or rather, some of us were off.

Getting ready to warm up and get started!

My first mistake of the race was getting behind that old guy, who took about a 100 years to clip onto his bike and get pedalling.  I ended up riding around him to make sure that I was in the main group off the start line.

My second mistake was being on the outside right of the group, because as I pedalled my way to try to get closer to the front of the group, I had to pass people on the right-hand side; I shouted that I was "on your right" as I came up beside people, but I know that it was probably disconcerting to be passed on the right.  Oh well.  They should have just pedalled harder.

Then we approached the first climb--Fortune Climb--and already my third mistake was beginning to take its toll.  By not being right at the front of the group when we started the race, I put myself at the mercy of the riders ahead of me.  If they didn't stick to the riders ahead of them, then I, too, would fall back from those front riders.  And that's exactly what happened.  As we started the climb, I looked ahead, and there was already a smaller group part way up the first part of the climb, and I knew I wouldn't be able to catch them while climbing.  So I just settled in with a group of four women riders and rode up with them.

And that's when things started to get good.

One of the riders was more experienced than the rest of us, and she had us taking turns on the front of our little four-person cycling group.  Each of us stayed on the front for no longer than 30 seconds, and then we rotated back.  This way we kept our speed up without taxing ourselves too much.  I felt good and strong.

Photo courtesy of the Ottawa Citizen. (Photo by Jana Chytilova)

And then when I was on the front for one of the rollers after the turnaround at the top point of the 21km loop (the whole race was two loops), my back pain from last week showed up, and I began to fall off the pace.  In a matter of seconds, I went from taking my 30second turn on the front of our group of four women and two men who had joined us, to drifting back through the group and off the back.  Then, before I could do anything about it, I could see them slowly pulling away from me.  I tried changing to an easier gear to pedal faster to see if I could catch them...that didn't work; I tried changing to a harder gear to force myself up to them...that didn't work.  I was forced to watch them pull ever-so-slightly away from me, leaving me all on my own, knowing full well that a single rider just can't keep the same high pace as a group of riders working together.

I was deflated.  And to add insult to injury, my back was killing me.

Photo courtesy of the Ottawa Citizen. (Photo by Jana Chytilova)

So I entered that sad and dark place where all my insecurities jumped to the fore of my brain with a vengeance.  "What are you doing, cycling, you don't know what you're doing!"  "You're probably causing permanent damage to your back."  "You should just quit now."  "You'll never be able to finish."  "Your time will be embarrassing."  "Just go home."  etc. etc.  So while the sun got hotter and hotter up above, and the sweat was pouring down my face as I struggled through every pedal stroke on an empty stretch of road high in the Gatineau Park I had to contend with those little voices getting louder and louder and more and more insistent.

Then I remembered the motto on my road ID--"pain is temporary"--that got me through last week's painful ride, and I remembered the full quotation from which that little motto is taken:

"Pain is temporary.  It may last a minute, or an hour, or a day, or a year, but eventually it will subside and something else will take its place.  If I quit, however, it lasts forever."

Lance Armstrong

Now I know that people are of two minds about Lance Armstrong.  One camp sees him as an inspiration, a living legend, while the other camp sees him as an unrepentant doping cheat.  All I can say is that while I was out there ticking off the kilometres all by myself, I sure was happy to think of those words of his.  I used them to shut up my little voices but good.

And then, just as I was able to shut up those voices, I rode past The Man on the side of the road cheering loudly for me and yelling, "you're in the top five, keep going!"  And I thought to myself, "top five?  How is that possible?  He must be wrong."  

Photo courtesy of the Ottawa Citizen.  (Photo by Jana Chytilova)

I started that Fortune Climb for the second time, the group no longer visible ahead of me, and all alone in my suffering up the hill.  I tried not to look down at my little computer that tells speed, because each time I did, I was surprised by how slow I was going.  I mean, I've ridden that climb many times before, and I have a rough sense of what kind of speed I can hold as I ride up it.  Let's just say, I was nowhere near my normal speed today.

Then as I hit the rollers after the top of the climb--the very spot where I had been dropped off the group I had been riding so well with--my little cycling guardian angel showed up.  Mr. #476 who was in the Men's 40+ category and doing 4 loops of the park had clearly been dropped off his main group, and was riding alone.  He came up behind me and said, "the two of us suffering can just pull each other home."  And that's exactly what we did.  The two of us began taking turns on the front, keeping our speed up, and somehow with the advent of company, my legs got that extra burst of energy that they needed.  Then as we rode the two of us together, we passed one of the women who had been on that original group that I was riding with.  We blew right past her and she wasn't able to hang on to our wheel.  Then we approached another woman, and I shouted to her to join us, so the three of us made a pretty solid group riding home together.

Maybe next time, I'll be racing in this kit!

As we approached the finishing straight, the other girl and I knew that we were in the same category, so we started sprinting each other.  I didn't have much in my legs for a sprint, but I put my bike into a hard gear and pedalled as hard as I could.  I thought I had her, but the finishing line was about a foot too far away for me, and she was able to pull ahead.  

In the end, she snagged 5th spot, and I took 6th.

But as we rolled over the finish line together, congratulating each other, she looked at me and said, "what team do you ride with?"  And I said, "um, no one, this is my first race."  And she said, "well, you should ride with us!"  So I've been invited to join an actual cycling team (CycleFit Chicks)...after my first ever race!

So in the end, I learned a lot about what mistakes not to make in a bike race, and I learned how to suffer through discomfort.  

And now that it's all over, I couldn't be prouder or happier.

Fabian Cancellara (or what I imagine I look like in
my own mind sometimes).

Fabian Cancellara, one of my favourite professional cyclists (who you should totally follow on twitter, because he's hilarious), said that in a race there are two results:  there's your personal result, i.e. how you felt about your performance on the day, and then there's your result when you compare yourself against others.  That makes a whole lot of sense to me, and I was thinking about that as I huffed and puffed in the hot sun at the finish line, feeling contentment at being sought out for a team (she came up to me numerous times to make sure that I'd join her team).

So here are my race results:

Time:  1:27 (under the 1:30 time that I had set for myself)

Average Pace:  28.6km/hr (better than the 27km/hr I average on my Wednesday rides)

Distance:  42km

Placing:  6th out of 23

Over and out,

Joy

Note:  For more pictures and a video, please see the Ottawa Citizen's coverage of the race, by clicking here.

WOW Ride + The Man = Fun (Loop #18)

Joy here...After a lacklustre performance on Tuesday night at the Time Trial, I was feeling a little apprehensive with the approach of the weekly Women on Wheels (WOW) ride on Wednesday night.  The sun was hot; the sky was blue; the air was still, and so I couldn't blame the weather for anything.  Twelve riders showed up at the meeting spot, and I could feel myself getting more and more nervous--if my back pain from Sunday and my metallic legs from Tuesday show up again, I'm gonna be really embarrassed in front of a pretty good group of people.

So, swallowing my nerves, and resisting the temptation to fall back on my childhood habit of nail biting, we rolled out of the parking lot in neat rows of two, heading towards the Pink Lake climb.  At first I wasn't on the front of the group, but tucked nicely in the middle, and the pace wasn't too high, so I was feeling good and was sucked along in the middle of the group, keeping my legs light and easy.

Then we rotated in the group, and I found myself on the front.  I kept the pace steady, and I didn't work myself too hard, but before I knew it, some of the ladies were having a hard time holding on to the wheels of the riders in front of them.  And then we approached the Pink Lake climb, and while a couple flew off the front of the group up the climb, I just kept my pace steady, and one by one, I began catching up to those riders on the hill.  By the crest of the hill, I was at the front, and as the group re-gathered itself to keep on going, we pedalled slowly a bit until those on the back caught up, and then we carried on in our group, taking a moment to practice all the rules of group riding etiquette (some of which you can find listed on this helpful website; just click the hyperlink).

As we approached the Fortune Lake climb, one of the group organizers shouted for the stronger riders to get in their biggest ring and climb while standing.  Feeling much better than Sunday's ride, I thought that "stronger rider" might just refer to me, so I stood up and climbed up that hill.  Eventually, about 1/3 of the way up the hill, I had to sit down, but I kept my bike in that big ring (the hardest gear) even while seated for a while.  Then those of us up front got the word that the group had splintered, so I slowed down my pedalling and waited for everyone to catch up, and then I rolled to the back of the group and put my bike into its hardest gear again so that I could stand up for the rest of the climb.  We crested that hill in no time and had a bit of a drink, and I was starting to feel good.  My back pain hadn't showed up, and my legs seemed to have enough gas in them to keep up with the demands of the ride.

And then as we paused for a photo at Champlain Lookout (and a wee snack), we also found The Man out in the park on his ride.  As we rolled away from our pause and passed him, I shouted out:  "Hey Handsome Husband!"  And all the girls checked him out as we sped past.  He said, "I'll catch up to you," and one of our riders turned to me and said, "I think that's a challenge!"

The gauntlet was dropped.

Here we are at the top of the world!

Then as our group roared over the rollers after the main climbs, and tore down the speedy descents (with me topping speeds of 69km/hr), The Man and his friend were ahead of us on the road, and it just so happened that I was at the front of the group at the time, so I stood up and pushed the pace, heckling The Man and his friend...and soon other WOW riders joined in with the heckling:  "speed up guys!" "you're about to get passed by a bunch of girls!" "Beep! Beep! Get a move on!"  With a pack of 12 women chasing them, The Man and his friend had to push their pace and pedal their little hearts out to avoid being passed.  I could hear our group splintering behind me, and one rider shouted:  "stay on her wheel!" meaning mine, to which the response was "she's chasing her husband, I can't keep up!"  After Sunday's crummy ride and Tuesday's crummy ride, it was encouraging for me to hear that my legs seemed to be back in form.

Eventually we all regrouped, and passed the guys on one of the descents and leap-frogged each other throughout the rest of the park.

Ultimately, The Man pulled ahead, but before he knew it, our WOW group was roaring past him on our way out of the park, and it was all he could do to jump on the back of the group.

As I pulled up to the car and hopped off my bike, The Man was nowhere to be found.  In a moment or two he caught up to me and arrived at the car, and the girl who had noted his challenge shouted over to us:  "So, who won?"  "I did, of course, as it should be!" was my response.  The Man looked back and forth between us, not understanding, and I winked at him and told him of the challenge that he had unwittingly issued, and that I had won.

All in all, our ride was 43kms and our average speed was 28km/hr, much better than Sunday's painful ride, so I have no complaints.

Over and out,
Joy

Fourth 15km Time Trial: Metallic Legs & Figuring Averages

Joy here...After my painful two-loop ride of the park on Sunday, when my back and my legs were screaming in pain, and I tried in vain to convince myself of the truth in the slogan that "pain is temporary," I took Monday off and was all set for Tuesday's weekly time trial.

The day was not too hot (around 28C), with very little wind, blue skies spotted with white, cotton clouds, and a number of team race riders showed up to compete, making us all think that tonight was a night for fast times and personal bests.

While last week only 14 riders showed up to race in the gusting winds and the rain, this week there were 34 racers gearing up to start.

While last week my start was screwed up a bit, this week, I was off like a flash as soon as my countdown was done.

I quickly hit 40km/hr as I got up to speed, topping 400w.  So I was all set for a good ride.  All I had to do was keep my power at around 200w and my speed over 35km/hr for 15kms.

It wasn't a tall order.  I've done it before.

Lady Deathstrike

But somehow, each time I looked down at my little computer, I was disappointed with what I saw.  My wattage kept dipping down to around 180w, and then I'd have to pedal harder to get it up to my target of 200w.  Then I'd hold it there, thinking that I held my cadence steady, only to look down and find out that my speed had dipped down to 33km/hr.  No matter what I tried, I just couldn't keep my numbers up.  My legs must have been pumped full of liquid adamantium, like that scene from the X Men 2 when Wolverine kills Lady Deathstrike by filling her veins with liquid metal...as he lets her die we hear her head clink hard against the glass container in which she is laid.  And I somehow felt like I knew what she must have been feeling, because as I was out there riding tonight, I'm sure my legs would have clinked heavily were there anything to touch them, because they sure weren't moving fast at all.

There's nothing more discouraging than looking down at disappointing numbers, but not being able to do anything about it.

And then, when I was feeling dispirited, at the 11.44km mark that back pain from Sunday's ride showed up with a vengeance, and all I could do was convince myself that I had less than 4kms left of suffering, and I just needed to stop looking at anything--distance, speed, time, wattage--and pedal my little heart out until the finish line, blocking out everything (including back pain and metallic legs).

In the end, my time was 25:50 and my speed 34.84km/hr, so certainly not a personal best, but better than the day I raced with two glasses of champagne working their way through my system.

Discounting that tipsy ride, I now have three 15km Time Trials under my belt:
June 5th--Time: 25:44, Speed: 34.97km/hr
July 3rd--Time:  25:41, Speed: 35.04km/hr
July 10th--Time: 25:50, Speed: 34.84km/hr

Thank goodness for salty, post-race delivery food!

So my averages for these three (giving me a baseline measurement) are:
Time: 25:45, Speed: 34.95km/hr.

Now my next step is to look into getting aero bars for my bike and playing with positioning, to see if that can help me improve on that average baseline.

But before that...I'm going to settle down and eat a nice meal from Greek on Wheels who just showed up at my doorstep with balm for my hurt and metallic soul.

Over and out,
Joy

Pain is Temporary (Loops #16 & #17)

The sun already high in the 7am Sunday sky.

Joy here...After taking two weeks off the bike, I felt like I was back in the groove a bit this week with Monday's easy flat ride, Tuesday's Personal Best Time Trial, and Wednesday's strong WOW ride; then Thursday I went to the gym with the Trainer and did some intense strength training, took Friday and Saturday off, and thought I was all set for a strong two loops of the park...only one week before the Gatineau Grand Prix, the very first real bike race that I intend to compete in.

So as we rolled out early Sunday morning, into the gusty winds and under the blue sky, I felt like I was strong and ready to have a powerful ride, challenging myself up over the hills and maintaining a strong and consistent pace for my first two-loop ride in the park in about a month (my last one being when I first started toying with the idea of doing the race...but back then I figured I had 5 weeks of training to prepare...now I'm down to 1 week).

But while my brain seemed to think I was all set to go with a strong and powerful Sunday morning ride, my body seemed to have other ideas.

Even before we reached the first steep climb (the Pink Lake Climb, about 1km of climbing around 70m of height gain with an average incline of 5.6%), my back was killing me.  I had a sharp pain in my lower back like I had been stabbed in the right kidney.  I don't know if I slept wrong and had back pain, if I was pedalling too hard and was straining my back, if I had worked my back too hard on Thursday and it was seizing, or if an invisible monster had jumped on my back and was digging in his claws.  I'm not sure what was going on, but no matter how I tried to stretch my back on the bike--leaning forward, standing up, sitting on the back of the saddle--nothing seemed to work.  The pain had settled in and seemed like it was there to stay.

So the battle between the brain that wanted a strong, hard Sunday ride and the body that was suffering began.

I huffed and I puffed; I tried to moderate my breathing lamaze-style to deal with the pain; and I just tried to ride beside The Man and not be too slow as to ruin both my ride and his ride this Sunday morning.  My face cringed; my mouth groaned; and my hands clenched.  I was doing everything I could to mind-over-matter this back pain.

Then, just before the start of the second big climb in the park (the Fortune Climb, nearly 2km of climbing over 150m of height gain with an average incline of 6.2%), we came upon The Professor and Cili Padi relaxing with their bikes and having a snack before tackling the climb up to the Champlain lookout.  We had a bit of a chat with them, caught up a bit, and I complained about my back, and then we hopped back on our bikes and headed up the hill.

At first my back seemed to calm down a bit with my pedalling up the steep part, but then that dagger started twisting its serrated edge in deeper and all I could do was settle into my bike in my easiest gear and pedal as consistently as possible.  I could feel the tears in the corners of my eyes and was happy that my sunglasses were hiding those eyes so no one would be able to see.

The Sunday morning view from Champlain lookout.

As I crested the steep part of the climb and rode towards The Man, he took one look at my scrunched up, "I'm in pain" face and said, "you know, we don't have to do two loops, we can just turn around at the top and go back."  I could have kissed him right then and there for the offer.  Everything in my body screamed:  "YES!  I wanna go home!"  But instead, I heard myself say:  "No, I need to finish these two loops."  What?  Did I just say that?  My brain seemed to be winning this battle between body and mind.  My brain was thinking that I needed the experience of suffering through these two loops as this Sunday's ride would be my last two-looper before Saturday's race, and without these two loops in my legs, the race would come along and I wouldn't have the mental fortitude to complete it.  When those voices in my head show up during the race (as they always do), I knew that I'd be quitting.  The only prevention strategy that I have in my arsenal is to finish this painful two loop ride on a hot and windy Sunday morning so that when the race begins to hurt, I can say, "shut up little voices, I can suffer through two loops, and even coming in last place is better than quitting."

Shadow Joy giving a thumbs-up, but definitely not
feeling thumbs-up-like!

So onwards we trundled, up to the Champlain Lookout, stopped long enough to eat and visit with The Professor and Cili Padi as they eventually reached the lookout, and then The Man and I began our descent so that we could reach the turnaround point and do it all over again.

I looked down to my Road ID on my wrist--it's a little velcro bracelet with a metal info plate engraved with my name, phone number, The Man's phone number, and my blood type.  It was a gift given to me by Simon (aka TriTwins), our friend from Malaysia who came to visit us last summer and rode with us in the park.  In addition to the info Simon had engraved on my little wrist ID, he also added a slogan:  "Pain is temporary."  So as the stabbing back pain spread from my right lower back to radiate to the rest of my lower back, not letting up at all, I looked down at that slogan, swallowed hard, grimaced, and just kept on pedalling...suffering up the Fortune Climb for a second time and suffering over those rollers on the way down from the top of the climb and suffering all the way out of the park.

In the end, our average speed was 26.5km/hr, and the ride was just over 80km door-to-door.  My average speed should have been somewhere between 27km/hr and 28km/hr (ideally even faster), so I was disappointed with that.

But when I think about the fact that I suffered through more than 3 hours of riding and was still able to complete the ride within spitting distance of the time that I would have expected of myself, I am pleased.  While this ride certainly doesn't represent a triumph of the body with fast legs and a fast time, it represents a triumph of the mind.

Napoleon once said:  "The strong man is the one who is able to intercept at will the communication between the senses and the mind," and this Sunday I can't say that I intercepted that communication between my body and mind, but I sure did prevent it from stopping me, and that's my triumph for the day...one week away from the two-loop race day.


"Pain is temporary...Pain is temporary...Pain is temporary...Pain is temporary..."


Over and out,
Joy

Beautiful Day......[Nomi's Second Marathon]

Nomi says,

So, Lulu wanted to run her first marathon this year and she wanted to run somewhere with pleasant weather and a very flat route. She suggested Gold Coast, Australia, we badgered our respective families into agreeing and thus, our great adventure began.

As with my previous marathon, i had a training plan all mapped out on a nice big calendar. And as with my training for the previous marathon...I couldn't really follow it. I tried to run at least 3 times in the gym during weekdays and tried to do a long run during weekends with Lulu. About 1 month before race day, we decided to do one long run of at least 30kms. If we could do that much, I was sure that we could finish 42kms. Lulu gave me a pair of CW-X compression tights, and i decided to try those out. Which was not a good idea. I was not used to them, and they compressed in ways that made my right knee and thigh hurt. So, I decided not to run anymore after that. I wanted my knee to recover for the marathon. I would go to the gym and use the various machines there to maintain my fitness, but not strain the joints. It was a compromise of sorts. If i didn't run anymore, my knee would recover. But, I knew that my endurance and strength would be affected to a certain degree. But I guess, as long as i could finish in time, it would do.

The weather in Gold Coast was expected to be in the range of 9 to 20C during the race. I had no idea what to wear. I live in a place with only 2 types of weather. Hot and dry or hot and wet...with haze intermittently.  I thought that I had to wear long sleeves, long tights, a wind cheater, a hat, a balaclava maybe, throw in some gloves, thick socks and make a thorough fool of myself :) ...So, i asked the Guru of Cold Weather -Joy, for her opinion...and she said, a sleeveless T and 3/4 tights would do. 'Cool and clear is the best weather to run in ', Joy said. Honestly, i was a little skeptical, cause she was used to sub-zero temperatures, but she would know cause she ran in similar weather during her first half marathon. So, a T-shirt and tights it would be. It was also raining in the days right up to the race, so i managed to get some plastic rainwear, which kind of looked like a garbage bag with a hood and sleeves. I assumed that the race would be well organized, so left my camelbak at home. I would rely on whatever hydration fluids provided but I did bring my GU gels. I also didn't bring my GPS. I would run with my usual pace and there probably would be pacers and distance markers by the road.
The day of race dawned bight and clear. It was truly a Beautiful Day. The rained had stopped the day before and temperatures were expected to be about 10 to 23 degrees. But to me it was still cold. It was about 14C before the race. It was like going to a big, big party . There were thousands of runners mingling around. Most were in sleeveless T's and shorts. Some were covered from head to toe, with wind cheaters, hand warmers, gloves, full tights, garbage bags with holes for the head and arms. And some were in costume too. There was a Japanese lady with a tutu and a veil, a few with short cotton kimonos over running gear, one dressed as a frog, one as 'Dragonball' , one in a superman costume, and there was an air of festivity and fun. The runners were categorized according to the expected finishing time. Me and Lulu were in wave D, which was 4 hr 30mins and thereafter. We made our way to our category.....and there were so few runners there, maybe less than 75 or so. The majority of them were in groups expecting to finish much earlier.

The gun went off at 7.20 am and it took 5 minutes before i crossed the start line. I think that this race was one of the nicest that i have run. The weather was wonderful. The route was through coastal roads alongside beautiful beaches, through suburbs along the sea and since it was a Sunday, a lot of residents had decided to come out and make an event of it. There were street musicians along the way Some people had barbies in their gardens, many were walking dogs, some stood by the road holding placards for people running the race, some stood in the boot of their pick up trucks with load hailers cheering the runners along and the participation from all these people and observers were fantastic. Strangers clapped, cheered you on, waved, called out your name on your bib, encouraged, told you what a good job you were doing, drivers honked and shouted encouragement from their cars, children stood by the road-side to touch your hand as you passed them and this was truly a novelty for me. These people made you feel welcome running in their neighborhoods.

My knee was fine in the beginning of the race. However, I did wonder if the Australian kilometer was longer than the Malaysian one. It felt like it took forever just to complete a kilometer. 1 hour and 10 minutes into the race, when all i ran was about 11kms or so, the elite runners were returning! There was a wave of Kenyans....soon followed by the elite runners and after another kilometer or so a hoard of A wave and B wave runners thundered pass. And I had only completer about a quarter of what i was supposed to do...The temperature may be moderate but the sunlight is strong. It was hot and blasting in my face for the longest time. Luckily i had a hat and sunglasses. I kept wondering about Lulu who only wore a bandana cause she was not used to hats or sunglasses. We had started of running together initially but we drifted away after a while.

After 25kms or so, i felt the muscles of my legs stiffen, tighten and become mildly uncooperative. However the knee held up and there was no outward discomfort from it. I stopped and drank at every hydration station. But, I think I probably drank too much cause I needed at least 3 toilet stops.The fluids provided were dilute and mildly 'detergent' tasting. But, something was better than nothing. Also, it was hot but quite dry. I could feel my skin baking and drying out in that strong glaring light. Somewhere before the 32km mark, Lulu caught up with me and we progressed together. However she soon started cramping up at 32kms or so. She couldn't move and was in a lot of pain. To cut a long story short, we had to walk after that. Despite hydrating herself and consuming energy gels, she did not get better. She knew that these cramps were from under -training, not electrolyte imbalance. I asked her to rest  by the road, to sit for a while, but she told me, 'Once i sit - i know i won't be able to get up again'. So, limp, hobble and push forward she did. I could see the frustration and pain she was in. She had been doing really well and if she didn't have cramps, she would have finished her first full marathon in very good time. After walking for about 6 kms or so, she told me to go on without her. She said - 'This is not what i wanted for you. You go on'.  By that time we had less than 4 kms left to go and a little more than an hour before cut off time. My legs were really hurting by then and I ran-walked to the finish line at 5 hr 54 mins. Lulu reached 5 minutes later. I am so proud of the both of us :) It was a good race to run I look forward to our next race together, hopefully with Joy too.