The Voice Within

I got a chance to do some cycling in "lands unknown", the pretty countryside and waterfront of Barrie and Oro, Ontario. I would have enjoyed the ride more if I had known what to expect (distance and elevation) and wasn't pressed for time.

SS: I have three hours to ride. Is this going to be an easy ride? How hilly is it?

CK: Yeah, it'll be an easy ride ... not hilly, pretty flat.

Yeah, right.

[Start of Rant]

It's rare when I get pissed off, but without giving you details, let me say that after a very hilly 85k ride that of course went way past three hours in length and got us back WAY later than intended, it was not fun to deal with the consequences. I'd have turned back sooner but I was dependent on my cycling buddy for my bearings as we were out in "no man's land". As well, he was already pissed off at my cycling inabilities/limitations and kept dropping me.

So what were the consequences?

1) I had trouble finding flowers for my mom since the florist shops were closed when we got back and I got cleaned up.
2) I arrived much later at my mom's gravesite than planned, after the administration office was closed, meaning there was no one to help me find her grave.
3) I had to cancel a cup of tea with a friend, and couldn't check out the reno job he was doing on his new house.
4) My dinner plans with other friends got totally screwed up. We were supposed to go out together for supper but they were too hungry and tired to wait anymore.

Yeah, I was pretty pissed. I have nothing against hard rides, but that particular day, I didn't need to do that distance and I didn't need to do all those hills (I'm not even trained enough for this kind of ride), but most importantly, I didn't have the TIME!

Of course though, this ride was all about HIM.

[End of Rant]

Whew, I feel better now ... thanks for listening.

It took an hour to drive to my mom's cemetary and as I drove through the gates onto the paths that separated the different "gardens", I started crying. This was my first visit back to my mother's final resting place after her funeral and I wasn't sure I would find her grave as the headstone had not been erected right away.

Interestingly, the following song started playing in my car as tears fell onto my face and I felt my mother speaking to me through it ...

"The Voice Within"
by Christina Aguilera

Young girl don’t cry
I’ll be right here when your world starts to fall
Young girl it’s alright
Your tears will dry, you’ll soon be free to fly

When you’re safe inside your room you tend to dream
Of a place where nothing’s harder than it seems
No one ever wants or bothers to explain
Of the heartache life can bring and what it means

When there’s no one else, look inside yourself
Like your oldest friend just trust the voice within
Then you’ll find the strength that will guide your way
You’ll learn to begin to trust the voice within

Young girl don’t hide
You’ll never change if you just run away
Young girl just hold tight
Soon you’re gonna see your brighter day

Now in a world where innocence is quickly claimed
It’s so hard to stand your ground when you’re so afraid
No one reaches out a hand for you to hold
When you're lost outside look inside to your soul

Life is a journey
It can take you anywhere you choose to go
As long as you’re learning
You’ll find all you’ll ever need to know
(be strong)
You’ll break it
(hold on)
You’ll make it
Just don’t forsake it because
No one can tell you what you can’t do
No one can stop you, you know that I’m talking to you

Young girl don’t cry I’ll be right here when your world starts
to fall

So not knowing exactly where my mother lay, and after walking around for a while, I placed the pot of pink petunias where my heart told me to, a still open grave with an unnamed headstone, and then told my mom I loved her.

I called the cemetary adminstration office on Monday once back in Montreal and they were able to confirm that I had placed the flowers correctly.

My mom led me to her and sent me her love through a beautiful song ... Oh God, I miss her so much ...

I miss you so much, Mom ...

Today, I'm driving my friend GB to the Ottawa Marathon. He's co-captain of my charity team, Operation Triumph, which raises funds and awareness for cancer. It's his first marathon and I'm so proud of him! I was supposed to run it with him but I've had a strange hip injury that's kept me off running. It'll be strange to be there as a spectator ...

In 2007, GB did the same favour and drove me to Ottawa so I could run the marathon. It was an especially emotional race for me because I was running to symbolize Hope that my mom would be strong enough to fight her cancer again ... she had just been diagnosed with metastisis to her lung and we were looking at viable treatment options.

But unfortunately, there weren't any ...

On April 24, 2009, at the young age of 66, my mom slipped away quietly from this world. She courageously fought a three-year battle with a horrible disease and inspired me to be a better person ... to be more patient, more loving, and more giving and I thank the Universe for this precious time that I have had with her.

Mom, I will be thinking of you tomorrow as I watch the runners go by ... and I will laugh remembering your comments and worries about my racing such long distances ... but you never told me to stop. And I will remember how you awoke early to see me off for my most recent marathon in Toronto last fall ... and how you had the most delicious bowl of soup waiting for me when I got home after finishing ...

Who would have expected that the grief from missing you, Mom, would far surpass the sadness I felt for you when you were ill? I cannot cry hard or loud or long enough to empty this horribly deep pain from my heart ...

Native American Prayer

I give you this one thought to keep
I am with you still – I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night
Do not think of me as gone
I am with you still – in each new dawn.

I will always love you, Mom!

Ironman Louisville - August 31, 2008

It had been over two weeks since my collision and I thought I was alright ... But this particular day while driving to a friend's, a dark mini-van cut suddenly into my lane and I felt overwhelmed with emotion.

And then the tears finally flowed.

My recent accident with a similar van flashed through my mind and I finally understood what I had just gone through.

I hadn't had the time to digest all that had happened since my bike collision in Toronto, four days before my big race. I had just arrived in Toronto after a six-hour drive from Montreal and had met up with my roadie friend, Zute, for a training ride before supper.

Only a kilometer from our start point, an irresponsible driver passed us both, then without looking, turned suddenly into a parking lot, hitting Zute on his left side while I collided abruptly into the back of her vehicle, denting it. And as my bike ricocheted backwards, my body flew like a projectile over my handlebars and I whacked my face and shoulder hard into the van's back door.

In that split second as I felt my neck snap back brusquely, I saw my Ironman race fizzle. Hurting my neck again was definitely a bad thing as it had not yet healed from my 2006 car accident (pics here) for which I was still in physio. Sitting there after the accident by the side of the road, gripping my neck, all I could think was, "Would I be able to race?" and then, "Is my bike okay?"

Zute wiped the blood off my face and leg, and spoke calmly with the woman, instinctively not letting me do the talking as he sensed how much I would have screamed at her at the top of my lungs for her stupidity and negligence. She could have killed us both!! How could she have not seen TWO cyclists!?!?

The rest of the evening was spent trying to normalize, as my mother was expecting us to take her out for supper and there was no way I wanted her to know what happened. Besides, I didn't want an overnight wait in a crowded emergency room with the hassle of out-of-province medical coverage when I had an early start and a 12-hour drive planned the next day.

I told myself, rest and sleep, that's all I needed. The long drive followed by a bike collision did not make for a peaceful day.

"I HAD to be alright."

I had no time or energy to digest the accident. I was racing. The days before and after my race were a complete blur ... 36 hours of driving alone to and from the race, the crash into the mini-van, dealing with the injuries, obtaining a bike, the complicated race prep, trying to squeeze in a bit of training, Race Day, taking care of my mother, then finally, dealing with the enormous amount of red tape (police, insurance companies, health care professionals, etc.)

And through my delayed tears, I realised that I was lucky not to have done more damage to my neck and back, or to not have landed on my head and suffered another concussion.

So now I am finally writing this race report, still healing from injuries, still sorting out red tape, still not ever planning to tell my mother about the accident (cause she would freak!) ... but one Ironman race richer in my life experience, feeling even more awake to the power of the mind.

I've reached an "enlightenment", a sublime understanding of the workings of the mind and of the body and how everything in life is intertwined. Through this all, I've somehow made a quantum leap in wisdom gained and a peaceful understanding of "letting go" and "life goes on".

It's hard to explain this epiphany to you without giving you more details, but let's just say, it's been a tough year. This Ironman race, dedicated to my mother who is dying of cancer and the reason I pushed on to finish albeit the injuries, was symbolic of the end of a journey and the fresh exciting beginning of another ...

******************************************************************

I am admittedly an undisciplined, imperfect athlete, with an artsy soul that is easily distracted. Training schedule, what dat? I trained horribly and entirely inconsistently, not doing the necessary miles, no, not even half of them, convinced that my one long run of 30k and my one long lake swim of 6k would get me by (had to wrap my mind around some distance, you know!) Long ride? Nope, but I'd done some tough hills ... I cheated my training with short swims, rides and runs, perhaps enough to scrape by for an Olympic distance, but who was I kidding?

Not an accident or insufficient training could make me DNS (did not start). I had too much riding on this race:

- I had already paid for the race entry and hotel
- Through the charity group I created, Operation Triumph, many people had sponsored me with donations to the Canadian Cancer Society
- I was racing in honour of my mother who's been so strong throughout her cancer. Now it was my turn to be strong ...

I told myself, "What will be, will be. I will finish."


Race Day Morning, August 31

When Mike, a fellow triathlete, called at 4:30 am, I was already wide awake. I lay in bed another 10 minutes and visualised the race and my transitions.

Breakfast consisted of a small bowl of Oatmeal Crisp Almond cereal, a few pieces of honeydew melon, a banana, and a cup of tea. I wasn't very hungry though as my stomach felt off. I was relieved when #2 finally happened ... so important on race day ... yay!

I rushed to the transition area to finish settling in my stuff, check in my special needs bags, and check over my bike. My nerves felt raw and the multitude of details to take care of felt overwhelming.

Yesterday, fifteen minutes into a short test ride, my bike flatted. After changing the tube, the tire rubbed against the frame, and not knowing how to fix this and needing to check my bike in before the cut-off time, I realised I had no choice but to have it looked at race morning. The bike tech guys made some adjustments and pumped up my tires. All clear! I scurried to rack my bike as transition was closing.

I'd forgotten that the swim start was a mile away and nervously set out on the walk, trying to calm myself down by chit chatting with the other athletes. My inability to locate the body markers only added to my pre-race anxiety and even the volunteer I asked didn't know where they were. But then I found them, grouped together haphazardly on a non-designated spot with no signs pointing them out.

[Warning: TMI] All endurance athletes are happy to do #2 before the race start, as it is quite unpleasant to get sick during the race, but c'mon, four times?!?! My stomach was definitely off and I was not a happy camper!!

Mike and I unfortunately ended up at the back of the "second" line and in fact, for a while, I was the last person. We cracked jokes and shared stories and this helped to lighten my nervousness. I was real happy though when the line started moving quicker and eventually others who had made last minute potty trips had to rejoin the line after us ... Now Mike and I were only almost last! There were now about ten people behind us!

If I ever do this race again, remind me to write to the race director to ask that they clear the path of all those sharp little pebbles.


The Swim


The race start is a time trial start and after passing the timing mat, each athlete jumps or dives into the water. It took about 52 minutes for Mike and I to get to the swim start. I learned to swim less than three years ago and because deep down, I am still afraid of water, jumping into water is very difficult. But here, I had no choice. That's me, second in line from the right, jumping hesitantly into the water. Mike was already away and swimming.


Down I went into the water ... and before I could surface, someone jumped in on top of me and kicked my head.

Fantastic start. Yeah.

I was happy to make it back up the surface without drowning and after taking a pause to refocus, started the swim upstream. Slow and easy ... long strokes ... be as efficient as possible. It was not long though before I noticed the uneveness of my stroke. Even with frequent sighting, I had trouble keeping a straight course.

Old left arm injury from my 2006 car accident + new shoulder/lat injury from recent collision = annoying veer to the right

To top it off, my too tight swim cap kept slipping off, forcing me to stop repeatedly to readjust it along with my goggles. Also annoying was the huge air bubble trapped inside my cap, a result of not being able to squeeze it out after the jump start.

I quickly realised that starting extreme BOP (back of pack) while swimming against the current was quite disheartening, but I tried to not let this get to me.
Long, efficient strokes ... long, efficient strokes.

I made it past the little island and into the open water where the current got stronger. Though it seemed to take forever to reach the red buoy that signaled the turn-around point, it was uplifting to know that it took some of the other swimmers even longer ... and I happily started passing people.

The opaqueness of the water was strange ... no sunlight penetrated the super polluted Ohio River. And surprisingly, though the swimmers were spaced out much more so than in a mass start, I ended up whacking a few people that I came upon suddenly due to zero visibility in the water. Oops, sorry!

I doubt that the down-current after the turn-around point improved my swim time as I zig-zagged all over the place. I was happy to finally reach the metal stairs that marked the end of the swim leg as I had accomplished what I had set out to do ... a relaxed, centered, peaceful and energy-efficient swim.

I knew I had a lot more race to go!


Transition, though not super fast, felt pretty smooth ... until I took my bike off the rack and wheeled it over to the bike start. My tire was once again rubbing the frame, and crossing the timing mat out of transition, I shouted to a volunteer, "Where's bike tech?"

I was sent back into the transition area where I had to find a mechanic to take care of my problem. He checked over my bike, took the wheel off, then ran off to grab some tools. While waiting, I cracked jokes to spectators and ate half a granola bar. What the heck, I had time to relax ... Turned out that it was the set pins and once recalibrated, the wheel went back on, and off I went, again over the transition out timing mat.

Finally, I got to ride!

Swim 1:36:56 (2:33/100m)

Rank after swim: overall 1624/1975, Division 62/82

T1: Swim-to-bike 7:20


The Bike

The first part of the bike course was flat, so no problems there. The aero position seemed alright and I was able to get up to speed pretty quickly until I found a pace that was comfortable. The thought hit me ... "Wow, I'm on a new bike, I wonder how it's going to go!" and I felt all excited.

Then I arrived at the hilly section, La Grange. I'd never climbed even one hill with Ingrid, my new tri bike. The shifters were in a whole new position, on my aerobars, as opposed to my old racing bike, which were on the downtube. In fact, there was lots different about this new bike, besides the much lighter weight. Ingrid had a different geometry which meant that I'd be using my muscles differently. The 650 wheels made for tighter handling and a much different feel to the steering. Even managing the water bottles had changed as I now had two behind me. This was a mighty sharp learning curve to manage.

So, as I headed into La Grange, I realised that this part of the race would not be easy, especially with the head and cross-winds. With the climbs and descents, I had to concentrate on shifting correctly and often, ended up in the wrong gear at the wrong time since I was not yet used to the new shifters or their nuances. My chain dropped twice while climbing, probably from shifting too quickly, as I was still unfamiliar with the timing. Getting back on a bike mid-hill is not easy to do, and I was forced to walk up a particularly steep hill after putting my chain back on.


Somehow, the hills seemed so much smaller the day before while checking out the bike course with Mike and his wonderful parents, Johnie and Brenda, in their air-conditioned mini-van. But today, in the 95F/35C heat (104F/40C factoring in the 80% humidity), with cloudless skies giving us no reprieve from the blazing sun, combined with the winds ... these "gentle rolling hills" felt HUMUNGOUS to me.

I passed a stretch of La Grange where a local festival was taking place. Cheering spectators lined the road and I felt a surge of disbelief, emotion and pride.

"Oh my God, I'm doing an Ironman!"

I thought about my mother and how much I loved her. The tears started rolling down my face but I wiped them away quickly as I wouldn't be able to finish if I kept crying. I was on a mission.
I took advantage of every aid station and stopped to fill up with water since I didn't want to crash while doing the "bottle grab". Several times, I downed complete bottles before moving on because of my extreme thirst.

I immensely regretted eating the other half of my granola bar before I hit the hills as it made me extremely nauseous. Regurgitating repeatedly only intensified my queasiness. I would have rather vomited! I'd never had GI (gastro-intestinal) issues this bad ever in a race before. I could no longer stomach the E-Load sport drink that I'd been consuming ... my stomach had shut down and I resorted to water, gels and salt capsules for the remainder of the race. I was ecstatic to finally feel some wind on my back and pick up speed ... whoohoo!

My new thrill didn't last too long though, only until the start of the second La Grange loop, where that horrible head-wind made me drop down again to 17 km/h. Something about repeating this loop and confusing signage combined with fatigue and disorientation tricked me for a few moments into thinking that I was closer to finishing the bike leg than I really was. My brain hurt from trying to calculate the distance travelled, as my odometer was incorrect, having not yet been recalibrated to the new wheel size. I asked a cyclist while passing him what his odometer read. AGH!!! The desperation of my reality set in.

I'd not gone 90 miles. I'd only gone 60 miles. Damned double signage. I still had almost halfway to go. I'm almost ashamed to admit that 57 miles/92 km was the farthest I'd gone during a training ride this summer, and that was in early July. I had now surpassed that. Could I trust my body to go another 52 miles? I had no choice.

I finally reached the special needs station and was happy to pick up my other gels as I had run out. I pulled the granola bars out of my back pockets and handed them with the bars still in my special needs bag back to the volunteer. "Can you throw these away? I can't eat them."

Then off I went again, up and down the hills. The cycling became increasingly difficult as it became clearer that I was on an untested new bike and didn't have the mileage in my legs. What a way to inaugurate Ingrid, my new bike ... with a 112 mile/180 km Ironman ride ... LOL!!

A late swim start coupled with a late bike start served only to add to the isolation I felt on the bike course. The second loop was almost void of spectators. A mere scattering were left and often, the only people I saw were cyclists I passed or exhausted bodies lying on the side of the road waiting for medical aid.

My female nether regions were on *fire* albeit the BodyGlide and I didn't want to stop to fiddle with my seat. The damage had been done and an aero position was no longer possible except for the downhills where I could lift myself off my seat a bit. The new bike geometry worked my muscles differently and my IT bands now pulled painfully on my kneecaps like sharp stabbing knives.

What hurt more though than my knees and my private parts were my neck and upper back. The extent of my injury from my recent collision into the back of the mini-van became painfully obvious. Because of possible danger to the kidneys and risk of dehydration/hyponaetremia, I had stopped taking NSAIDs that morning to relieve the inflammation and was now in searing pain. I could not hold my body forward for very long and resorted to holding the arm rests with my hands to stay as upright as possible.

"Free speed, free speed" became my new mantra as I rode down the hills as aero as possible, hoping to pick up enough speed to to take me up the following hills. Coasting was essential for me at this point and allowed me to recuperate, relieving some of the pain in my knees. The miles passed and I concentrated on "lessening the pain", wondering how I'd ever make it to the bike finish. And though the last segment of the bike course is a net downhill, my painful knees, forced still to pedal, did not feel this advantage.

I only made one toilet stop, after 7 hours of riding. Like most on the bike leg, I was dehydrated but happy that I hadn't passed out like so many others. Thoroughly exhausted, the scorching heat was even more evident.

With great relief, I arrived at the bike finish and the kind volunteer took my bike away. I started running down the transition chute but my legs felt horrible. Thinking it was due to my shoes, I stopped to take them off. NO, Running in bare feet did NOT make my legs feel any better. I called out my number to the volunteers and a very pretty, cheerful girl passed me my transition bag.

"You're Bonnie, right? I'm Katie, Tithers' friend, and she told me to watch out for you. I'm so happy that I'm the one to give you your bag."

I was happy too! Tithers and Katie, you rock!

Then into the tent I went to change into my run clothes at a snail's pace. I saw a lady sprawled across the chairs and a volunteer went to ask if she was alright. I didn't want to be like her so took care to stay relaxed and focused. The change tent floor was extremely muddy since the ground had not dried out after the swim-bike transition. I had not packed a towel, so I wiped my muddy feet with my bike clothes. Hmm ... did I really want to put on those running shoes?

In the still blazing sun and heavy heat, I walked out of transition and drank some water.

How was I going to get through this marathon?

Bike 7:42:47 (14.52 mph)

Rank after bike: overall 1714/1975, division 64/82

First Bike Segment 22.5 mi (1:30:25) 14.93 mph
Second Bike Segment 21.4 mi (1:36:47) 13.27 mph
Third Bike Segment 30.5 mi (2:10:47) 13.99 mph
Final Bike Segment 37 mi (2:24:48) 15.33 mph

T2: Bike-to-run 13:17


The Run

I heard a voice, "Hello" ... and then an elderly gentleman and I teamed up. We decided to walk for a bit but as we passed the first camera, we started running and laughing, saying we couldn't be caught NOT running by the camera.


Then back to walking, and by the time we got to the bridge a little distance away, my new tri friend was ready to run. But I wasn't since it was uphill. I told him that I'd only start on the downhill coming back. By the time we got to the turn-around point on the bridge, my new-found running mate wanted to run off so I wished him well. I had reached the downhill part but my legs didn't seem to want to start running. Feeling horribly exhausted, I seriously pondered if I'd make the cut-off time of 17 hours if I walked the entire marathon.

Another camera opportunity forced me to run again ... great shot! And then out of fear of not finishing in time, I tried to keep running after that ... Note the IT band support on my left knee.


I gave myself two rules:

1) No running on downhills or steep uphills.
2) No running in expansive sunny areas. Wait for the sun to go down a bit.

I thought it was better to play it wise and be able to finish rather than be picked up by an ambulance, which I was starting to see more frequently.

I was on my first loop when the sun's intensity started to lessen and my running became more consistent, now with few walking breaks. The temperature as the sun started going down was still 90F/32C, only a few degrees cooler than when I'd started.

I walked through every aid station and grabbed water, rationing the few gels that I had with me throughout the course. I would have drank more chicken stock had they not run out so soon ... that's THE BEST during a race! Because of my GI issues, I drank only a few sips of the sport drink offered and totally refrained from drinking any cola. Bizarre, whereas on the bike leg, I did not need to pee, after the first part of the marathon, I needed to pee almost every aid station! What was going on?!

The heat was intense. I continued my death shuffle and concentrated on moving forward, distracting myself from my pain and fatigue by watching the other runners. Having only one IT band support, I now switched it over to my more painful right knee. The few attempts I made at my usual run form dismally failed as sharp pains shot into my knees with each strike of my foot on the asphalt.

The neighbourhood was quaint and its prettiness was a nice contrast to our suffering, as was the out-and-back set-up of this race course. Someone shouted out my name ... it was Mike, and I turned my head quickly to see him heading in the opposite direction, catching only a glimpse of his face. He looked in fine running form ... or so I thought (found out later that he had had a bad bike crash and needed stiches!)

I finally reached the turn-around point and knew I'd soon be hitting 13.1 miles. What? No timing mat? No balloons or archway? ... Hmm, no special marker indicating the half-marathon point, what a let-down. So I estimated my time and this sadly told me I had at least another three hours to go if I continued at this pace.

ANOTHER THREE HOURS!!!

I concentrated on moving one foot ahead of the other and somehow, the miles wore on. There were more and more spectators and I realised that I was almost finished the first loop! How excited I felt as I approached the Finish Line the "first time" ... yes, so close and yet so far! The spectators screamed, "You're almost done, just down the road!" and I screamed back, "I still have one more loop to go."

Good thing about seeing the actual finish line was feeling and hearing the excitement of the crowd, music and runners. Bad thing about seeing the actual finish line was feeling and hearing the excitement of the crowd, music and runners and not actually finishing.

I turned the corner right before heading down the brightly-lit finisher's chute ... Another loop to go! Yay! (Not)

So I ran and ran and ran and ran and somehow, at some point, it all started blending together and became surreal. I had found a peaceful place in my head that somehow knew what to do with the pain and exhaustion, that somehow knew how to keep my body moving forward past the aid stations and past the mile markers.

I passed the turn-around a second time. I passed countless other runners. I heard the ambulances and saw bodies lying on the sides of the street and pressed forward, knowing that I did not want to join them.

Then somehow, I'd arrived again at the "Start to the Finish" and I felt the excitement of the last few miles ... I was almost HOME and my commitment would be fulfilled. The crowd became denser, the music and the cheers grew louder, the runners picked up their pace ... I knew what was coming and I excitedly ran a bit faster.

And then there it was, the finisher's chute. A spectator shouted to the man running slowly just ahead of me. "C'mon, you can run faster than that! You're at the finish!" Dang, the man picked up his pace to match mine just as I was about to pass him.

There was NO WAY I wanted to share my finishing photo with this other racer, so I kicked in everything that I had left, lifted my painful knees and sprinted past him down the finisher's chute high-fiving as many people as possible.

There was the Finish Line ... but where was the finish line tape? Where was the announcement, "Bonnie Mak, you are an Ironman!"

I'd only visualised finishing with the broken finish line tape held high in glory above my head. What to do, what to do ... I had no Plan B, doh! So I said, "Give me air beneath my feet," and I charged hard over the Finish Line, completely exhausted, but emotionally elated.

Run 6:09:12 (14:05/mile)

First run segment 4 mi. (1:01:23) 15:20/mile
Second run segment 4.3 mi. (56:58) 13:14/mile
Third run segment 4.15 mi. (1:02:25) 15:02/mile
Fourth run segment 3.5 mi. (49:05) 14:01/mile
Fifth run segment 4.3 mi. (57:12) 13:18/mile
Sixth run segment 4.15 mi. (59:18) 14:17/mile
Final run segment 1.8 mi. (22:51) 12:41/mile

Extrapolating, I get a negative split of 10 minutes, woohoo!:

1-13.1 miles 3:09:57
13.1-26.2 miles 2:59:55



Finish (chip time) 15:49:30

Overall 1567/1975 * I moved up from my rank of 1714 after the bike!

Division 64/82

Only 1768 athletes finished under 17:00. 207 did not make the cut-off. That's 10.5%!


I was happy to see Johnie waiting for me at the finish ... nothing like being greeted with a loving smiling face! He told me about Mike's unfortunate crash but made sure to get me to the post-race area where I could grab my clothes bag and get some grub. Then he headed off to meet Mike at the hospital. Thanks, Johnie! You're a sweetheart!

After a quick massage to my IT bands and shins, I caught a lift back to the transition area with a woman I met in the swim line. No way with my sore feet and aching muscles would I have been able to walk that mile or so.

Dear IMKY Race Director,

For future races, I recommend that bike and race gear pick-up from the transition area NOT be mandatory immediately post-race. It would have been easier to just hop into my car and go back to the hotel.

Sincerely yours,

Bonnie
Exhausted athlete all by her lonesome

So ... I dragged all my bags and rolled my bike to the far end of the parking lot. Managing somehow to load it all into my car, I then drove over the bridge back to my hotel. After showering and eating something more substantial (I can't eat much right after racing), popping some pills, and of course calling a few worried friends, I finally crawled into bed at 3:00 am, 22 1/2 hours after I'd awoken.

Another day, another Ironman. Cool. So utterly cool.

Good eats!

Most of us take our mobility and the subsequent freedom to do what we want and go where we want for granted. But some of us can't walk outside alone lest we fall. This means no unaccompanied outings, including dining out or grocery shopping.

So I took my mother out for supper and I took her grocery shopping and she savoured every minute, as did I, since this meant more precious moments with her.

There is nothing like sharing a tasty meal with someone you love, especially if it's with someone you love dearly and don't get to see often.



To take the pics, I had to slide past my mother on her bench so I could extend my hand properly to take the self-portrait. Since my mother has trouble standing up, I decided to get back to my side of the table via "under the table".

How embarrassing! Of course, this had to be THE MOMENT when the waitress came over to serve us while I was still in the midst of trying to manouvre my body out from underneath the table. I should have predicted my difficulty, being much bigger than my children and all, doh! I finally managed to wriggle out and up onto the bench and then, ahem ... apologized to the waitress, "I was just playing! Ha ha!"

Here's what we ordered:

1) Tofu and vegetable hot pot

2) Beef and green bean spicy satay

3) Salt and pepper shrimp

Visiting Mom

When it FINALLY hit me that I would lose my mother to an incurable cancer, my heart and soul cried out in anguish and that "little girl" inside of me, with insecure, selfish, little girl needs of love and affection, awakened and wailed.

I realised how much I still needed my mother. And though it will be difficult, I know that the inevitability is that I will have to let go, ready or not.

So, for every day that I still have my mother, I will love her as deeply and tenderly as I can. Some people have bitterness and resentment towards their parents during their adult life. I feel none of this towards my mother and realise that life is too short for blame. Could haves, would haves, should haves. None of this means anything in the face of death. No point in ruminating over what wasn't perfect, for the Universe knows I was far from it.

And so, I was very happy to visit my mother in Toronto. Thank you Jonathan Clark for taking this beautiful series of shots.

Thursday, May 1

No training for this little girl today. It was a travelling day. Besides, after Jonathan's Soul Travel, India show, I had too many loose ends to take care of which resulted in another night of almost no sleep. I opted for some zzz's in the car. It's nice having a second driver!

My mom was really excited about my visit, and upon my arrival, I promptly took her out for supper at a Chinese buffet she hadn't visited for a long while. Lots of choice, maybe too much ... we happily ate like PIGS! For dessert, I had a green tea rice ball, mango jello, almond jello, and some red bean soup.



Friday, May 2

Pissy rain day. Popped by my cousin's house to visit her newborn fraternal twins ... a little boy and a little girl ... how adorable! Good thing Grandma, her mother, is there to help!



Then I took my mom out for our ritual dim sum and afterwards ran around with her grocery shopping, a luxury for her since she can't get out on her own.

I slipped out after supper for a quick swim. Toronto is renown for the distances between places, and the available pool was no exception. It took me almost half an hour to get there! Was it worth it for the measly 1000 m that I swam before the pool closed? You betcha! Felt good to train again ...

Saturday, May 3

Another pissy rain day, but today, I had committed to cycling.

It was miserable, cold and very wet, at times even torrential, but I really wanted to cycle some of the rollers just outside Toronto. I gave up looking for a place to relieve myself in the thick of the rain and while adjusting my aerobars at some intersection, I promptly went there, where I was standing, happily knowing that the rain would hide my, ahem, urgency.

I arrived home after cycling 55 km to a wonderful plate of my mom's fried rice. This has got to be one of my #1 comfort foods and I could have eaten unlimited plates of it!

The afternoon brought more shopping, including this really cool Chinese herb place.

Sunday, May 4

What I had in rain yesterday, I had in wind today. I headed out again to the rollers to do some more cycling. At one point, while going downhill, I could only hit 22km/h. Pretty dismal headwind. Needless to say I was pretty spent and very happy to finally make it back home after a 45 km cycle.

I came home to my mom's pork bone and tofu leaf soup. Another favourite comfort food.

That evening, we gathered up the relatives and had a BBQ feast at my cousin's ... My mom and I were happy to see everyone all together, it had been so long for both of us.

Monday, May 5

Travel day back to Montreal, no time to train.

Jonathan met up with us in the morning and we visited ZS (pics above), a friend of my mother's who had shared a hospital room with her for a few months during her recovery from the fall she had had before Christmas.

ZS, you are a beautiful woman, inside and out. Thank you for being so kind to my mother. My mother was thrilled to be reunited with you.

Oh Mom ... It's always so hard to say good-bye ...

Wow, I can't believe I'm already back to work ...

I hope you all had a fabulous time bringing in the New Year. I surely did ... bubbly, great company, games, a fun flick, great food and lots of hugs. Here's our supper, one of mine and my children's favourites: braised beef with potatoes and carrots, caesar salad. Dessert was CHOCOLATE. Yes, more festively plump fixings.

Then a short visit to my mother who is regaining her strength and looking much better than the last time I saw her before Christmas. It was so nice to see her laughing again. We played Jenga, a hilarious game suited for all ages. We got as high as 32 levels before my son knocked it down accidentally with a bad move. Pretty cool ... it was a new record!

Spent time snowboarding this week too ... it wise fun to enjoy the powder that fell the other day, not so fun to drive in it ... now we're headed into a warm spell ... goodbye snow. It'll make running a little easier though!

The roads are now clear ...

... and I will be on my way to Toronto to see my mom, who has stabilized in the hospital. This is a particularly scary drive for me because of my past car accident and also because of the road conditions. I'm just happy that it stopped snowing and it's warmer, which will hopefully mean less ice.

My mom has stablized and the head scan showed no signs of cancer or other in her brain. Thank God. She is now on blood thinners to deal with the clots and her morale has brightened, especially knowing the results of the scan. Though it is evident that her cancer has deteriorated, I am praying that she still hold onto life because selfishly, I still need my mother and the kids still need their grandmother. Besides that, we have plans to bring in the New Year with her.

Yesterday, I managed 56 laps in the pool, or 1400 m. Not where I need to be but it's a start. And it was wonderfully therapeutic.

Swimming in a pool of tears

Tonight, my cousin called me. He had taken my mother to the hospital. She had blacked out and hit her face. The hospital thinks it's a blood clot due to the spreading cancer and she's being given tests. She's been suffering from headaches for months now.

I am afraid to know what this may mean.

For two years now, since my mother's diagnosis of cancer, I have been putting aside having to deal with "losing her" ... "it's not going to happen 'til later" ... "it's not going to happen 'til later" ...

Tonight, I felt for the first time that "later" has caught up with me. And I am so filled with grief, I don't ever think the tears will stop.

No one is ever ready to lose someone they love. And especially not me now, what with Christmas and my birthday and New Year's just around the corner ... Me and the kids and the rest of the family still have some celebrating to do with my mom ...

I was supposed to swim tonight and wondered if the pool water would wash away my tears and distract me as I focused on technique. I nixed the idea and figured I didn't want to drown. Second choice was getting on my stationary bike, the infamous Mr. SB for those who have been reading my blog from the beginning ... but Mr. SB's dumb-founded look at my teary eyes told me instantly that he didn't know how to react to such great sadness.

I figured it best to turn to friends ... Thank you all for your hugs and support and love. Please say a prayer for my mother to help her get through this "hump". We've got a big New Year's party planned and we need her to be there ...

Marathon #13 - Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront

It's been almost a week since I ran the marathon and frankly, I'm feeling quite good ... finally. I think I've recovered but the real test will come with my first run. As far as training, I've only gone for a short swim so far on Friday.

The marathon weekend started badly. I ended up working late on Friday and only started my drive around 9 pm, straight from the office. It's a long drive to Toronto and with heavy eyes drooping, I stopped and took a long nap in a rest stop parking lot only to be awoken by Sainte checking up on me ... "That's dangerous, you can't sleep there!" Yes, it was a very long drive. Bedtime only came at 5 am.

The general rule for pre-marathon rest is to get a good night's sleep two nights prior to racing as the night before is always a little nerve-wracking. Obviously, that didn't quite work out as planned ...

The alarm rang at 9:30 am as I had to go to the sports expo to pick up my race kit and a tech shirt that would hopefully fit. I have enough men's large and x-large race shirts in my collection, thank you, and no, I do not wear sleep shirts.

Here we are at the bib pick-up and chip check. I proudly pulled out "my own" chip. (Thanks again, Sainte!)

Feeling exhausted by late afternoon, I had to lie down for a bit. Later on, a little rejuvenated, I went out and did a short 3 km jog around the neighbourhood, just to get the blood flowing but nothing to shock the legs. After a good supper and some quiet time with my mom, it was time to prep for the race (backpack, clothing, race bib, drinks, etc.) I called it a night around 11:30 pm or so and zonked out right away ... I was still so tired!

*******************************************************

Race Date: September 30, 2007
Weather: about 17 C at start, 24 C at finish, very sunny
Wake-up: 5 am
Breakfast: coffee, croissant, banana, some canteloupe

Total July training: no running, no serious swimming, 90+ km cycling, the "+" being some unknown short recreational-pace distance with the kiddies
Total August training: 20 km running, 65 km cycling
Total September training: 48 km running, 61 km cycling, 1000 m swimming

*******************************************************

My two alarms rang too early at 5 am. I got dressed and made my way downstairs to the kitchen. I heard my mother stirring and she soon joined me afterwards. Groggily, she offered to make me something for breakfast but I reminded her that she had (lovingly) picked up what I needed the day before. Then I gave her a hug and she went back to bed. I can't tell you how happy I felt to have my mother see me off to this race ...

At 5:45 am, my good friend, Sainte, came to pick me up. How spoiled I was! It was still dark when he dropped me off downtown at Metro Hall, close-by the race start. "You'll do fine," he said and gave me a good luck hug.

Lots of runners filled the hall. I shared some good luck chit chat with some of the other runners.

First thing I did when I arrived was the ritual wait-in-line for the toilet. Then after taking off my extra layers, I checked in my bag and then did another wait-in-line to try to avoid having to do my usual port-o-let marathon break at 2 km.

Then off to the start line. No evident corrals and the pace bunnies seemed to be scattered hap-hazardly, not that I planned to follow any of them. Everyone started bunching up and slowly moving forward but when did the gun go off? Hmm, I just missed another start to a race. Alright, here we go again!

It was quite crowded for many kilometers and it was difficult to lock in on a regular stride as I weaved in and out of the crowd and they weaved in and out past me. It was a beautiful day and the sun had already risen. We ran through downtown Toronto until we got to the Lakeshore Boulevard. You would have thought the scenery to be more spectacular, as this race is called the "Waterfront" marathon, but unfortunately, due to our sheer numbers, we could not run by the water but on the big boulevard x-100's of metres away, only catching slight glimpses of water every so often through trees and/or past buildings.

The 10 km marker came and went and I could feel the pain in my bunions and also in my hips building up. I had not run anything more than 10 km since the Ottawa Marathon in May, four months ago, and had only managed a measly 8 km in the past two weeks. I passed the 15 km marker and was still hanging on but I had to pop a pain-killer. Though my hips felt on fire, my mood was excellent! I knew what I had gotten into with so little training and had totally accepted it ... why worry about it during the race? Anyway, there was only one really pretty part of the waterfront and it was by the nice condos, restaurants and shops. Why ruin the moment with lousy attitude?

The scenic interesting part of the race was unfortunately over in a few short kilometers and we soon found ourselves stuck in some concrete purgatory. We were running under the Gardiner Expressway, a massive highway structure that passed alongside the waterfront. Several kilometers later, we finally made our way off this dismal part of the Lakeshore Boulevard but promptly got ejected onto the Leslie Spit, a piece of landfill left gone "wild". It was more like another boring out-and-back section with overgrown grass. I was really starting to hurt and had absolutely nothing interesting to distract me.

In fact, the only thing that redeemed running the Leslie Spit was happily leaving it and seeing the 30 km marker. Woohoo!

Then drat ... right back into industrial wasteland. Oh, I could not contain my excitement about the scenery any longer, so afraid to blink lest I miss something (this is sarcasm folks).

Yes, I was a-cryin' inside but I figured I'd try to make up for the pain in gels, Gatorade, and walking through the water stops. My mood was still quite good though as I realised how much closer I was to the finish. Anyway, I wanted to look good for the photographer as I hit the infamous "wall" at 32 km!

Oh oh!!

Why did that sun have to be so strong and hot? Why didn't I feel like I was sweating? Why did these kilometres keep dragging on ... and what was with all these boring out-and-back sections? The runners I passed face-to-face looked horrible and in so much pain ... and I knew I was slower and would be hurting more than they by the time I got to those same points!

Walks at the water stations became longer and I finally resorted to the ultimate "I will not give up" tactic of the marathon shuffle, combined with short occasional stints of the Death March. I had way too much lactic acid build-up in my quads to be able to pick up my legs anymore and I had already popped a second pain-killer, to no effect.

The marathon shuffle proved quite effective as I surprisingly passed people. Maybe I was able to pump my arms harder or quicker?

"Just keep moving forward, keep moving forward."

Only a few kilometres from the finish, there was way too much silence. The streets were almost empty except for me and the other straggling BOP (back-of-pack) runners. There were no spectators. There were no cars. No noise, just quiet. It was horrible and lonely and made this difficult moment even more torturous.

Not until I went back under the Gardiner Expressway and up Bay Street, with little over a kilometre to go to the finish, did I start to see and hear a little more more life. I saw two runners in the distance. I knew I was too far from the man ahead of me to catch him, but me and my non-competitive ego could certainly ping off the girl only a hundred or so metres away from me. I turned the corner into the final stretch and heard the crowd roar. I sped up my pace determined to pass ... but the excited runners ahead of me also picked up the pace ...

200 m to the finish line. I made a break for it, lifted my heavy lactic-acid filled legs and charged!

I passed the girl in front of me, left her in my dust, and crossed the finish line.

Cry of victory! Woohoo!

Marathon #13, the "unlucky" one ... finished.

Another day, another marathon ... this one proving to me how strong the mind can be since I definitely did not have the training.

But I *believed*.

Sainte picked me up after the race and I promptly lifted my legs and propped my bare feet up against the dashboard. More than any part of me, my hips were killing me and I needed to stretch them. I was sure glad that traffic was heavy on the way back home so I could share this precious post-race moment with a good friend.

Sainte dropped me off at my mom's and gave me a congratulatory hug.

What an incredible day. I got to be with my mom and one of my best friend's and also got to collect another medal. On top of that, my mom had pork and tofu soup waiting for me. Marathon #13 wasn't unlucky at all! I told my mom about the race and her comment made me laugh. "If it hurts that much, why do it?"

Afterwards, I got cleaned up and and caught some well-deserved zzzz's. Later on, I couldn't have asked for more than to be eating a delicious home-cooked post-race supper with my mother. Yes, I was a lucky girl today.

For those who have run a marathon or other similarly difficult race, I thought I'd share with you the following picture of some stairs I encountered at a rest stop on my drive back to Montreal the next day.

What goes up ...

Must come down! ... OUCH!

Race time (gun time): 5:16:31.3
Chip time (actual time): 5:11:45.4
Pace: 7:31 min/km

Placement: 1820/2100 runners
Gender Placement: 553/710 women
Age Category Placement: 97/125

10 km split: 1:09:59
21.1 km split: 2:28:13
30 km split: 3:36:32

Was this gruelling marathon worth it? You bet your sassy bottom, YESSS!!