can’t stop won’t stop

I know I said I was handing my blog over to momma, but my mind has been spinning lately, and blogging seems like as good a release valve as anything. (Just slightly behind running, meditation, and controlled substance abuse).

I’ve been telling everyone that I probably wouldn’t race Ironman this year, citing a lack of time, more responsibilities at work, and life transitions as my excuses du jour. I even made a bet with a friend who knows me well: “I won’t!” “Yes, you will.” (She won.) But given my line of work, racing is always an option, tempting me with race-cations in far-flung locales. I started looking at the race calendar and dreaming of finish lines in Mallorca, Barcelona, and Australia.

Then—and I’m not sure why it took me so long—I realized that I HAVE AN IRONMAN RACE IN MY BACKYARD. For the first time ever. Not many people can say that, and especially not about a race like Whistler. Whatever the reason, it took about 12 chatty long runs, 35 instances of “maybe I’ll race Canada…”, and learning of about 8 new Vancouver friends’ plans to race to finally get me to drink the Canada Kool-Aid (or in this case, Gatorade). Apparently the saying “If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans,” applies to triathlon, too.

Photo by Nils Nilsen, courtesy

This will be me. But not in pink. (Photo by Nils Nilsen, courtesy

In terms of those ridiculous excuses, I realized that nobody has any time and you make time for what you care about.

I realized that the harder I train the more shit I get done in general and the better I use my time.

I realized that transition is as good a time as any to swim, bike, and run.

And I remembered that I just really like training for something, regardless of personal bests and goals. “Personal best,” like my slooooow half marathon last month reminded me, is sometimes just your best on that day. Or in my case, that year.

Truth be told, there was one final push. When my mom decided on Ironman 70.3 Victoria, I knew I had to do it with her. It was part of the plan that I wouldn’t just be a sherpa on the sidelines, but right there in the thick of it. Then two weeks ago, when the half was announced in Whistler, she decided she’d rather do a harder course (right, mom?) and have an extra month to train. Once again, Ironman fell out of the sky like the Looney Tunes ACME anvil and landed squarely in my path.

On July 24th, my Ironman racing will come full circle, on the other side of the same country where I did my first. I’ve signed up for Ironman Canada twice and not raced due to unforeseen health issues (2014) and work circumstances (2015)—here’s hoping the third time’s a charm. And yes, I’m going to do Victoria, too.

Last week I logged my biggest training week in months—motivated partly by dear old mom and partly by the amount of clothing in my closet that no longer fits. (Hint: Don’t buy clothes when you’re in Ironman shape.) It’s going to be a good spring and summer of training in the Pacific Northwest. Now, if this constant rain would just let up for one day…


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