I remember receiving a particular bit of advice shortly after IM China.  I had barely returned to Canada, and was absolutely exhausted from the sickness and symptoms that lasted for a week upon my return, the disappointment of the race, the travelling/jet lag....everything.  I was reminded  that life really is all about the journey, not the destination.  At the time, I was unable to see this, in fact, I didn’t even want to see it.  So, I responded to this advice by stating that my experience with IM China was not a "journey", instead it had been a “death march.”  Okay, given, I was not in a great state of mind, but at the time, that was truly where I was.  It has only been in the last few days that I have begun to comprehend the real meaning of this well-known phrase.  It’s funny how we think we can ‘get’ something, but it isn’t until we are face down in the mud that we realize that we still have so very much to learn.

  Over the last few weeks, I know I have been awfully quiet (no blogging) as I have been busy washing  a lot of dirty laundry (literally too....you don’t want to know what my suitcase smelled like upon coming home from China...you really don’t.)  But figuratively...I had a lot of soul searching to do.  And the tumultuous experience of the last few weeks was not giving me any options to put it off. 

During this time, I looked good and hard at why I am doing this.  Why I chose to put aside a masters degree, a good job that I enjoyed (teaching), selling a house to live in a basement suite, living like a student again in more ways than one.  The pull and desire to just put aside this craziness, to get off this crazy roller coaster, and to go back to some form of safety and stability was becoming very, very strong.  My teaching career was looking pretty darn good and this basement suite was looking pretty darn ugly.  After an injury that had me take a solid three months off running this fall/winter, and then an extremely challenging and difficult race experience on my own on the other side of the world...yes...fear had me by the throat.   I had to look at all of this very, very hard to make sure that I was making the right decision to continue on this road of being a professional triathlete.

There are many things that helped me through this...some of which I will mention at the bottom of this blog, as I would not have had the strength to do this soul-searching without the incredible support of so many people (see below) but largely I realized that this really IS about the journey.  I ventured onto this new road because I was chasing down a dream, sure, fair enough.  But I have now realized that it is so more than that.  Before, I still understood the dream to encompass ‘finish lines and results.’  I didn’t see yet that these things really are so fleeting, and as nice as they can be to experience, that all the finish lines in the world will never love you back.  There has to be more. 

I’ve always said that I am doing this because I don’t want to be the 90 year old in her rocking chair (if I make it that long of course) who wonders ‘what if?’  And that is true.  None of that has changed.  But I have had to ask myself what that ‘what if’ means.  Does it mean putting it all on the line to win races that surely will come and go? Does it mean having your name ‘up in lights’ for a moment in time only to be replaced as quickly as it came on?  Does it mean putting all of your energy and attention into something that may never even happen only to put more pressure on your shoulders than necessary? No, of course it doesn’t.  None of these things will ever make you happy, because they don’t last.  The finish line won’t be there to hold your hand while you take your last breaths and the thrill of victory might be a nice memory, but it won’t provide you a shoulder to cry on when you need it.   That is for absolute certain. 

Now, this might sound obvious, but for a bull-headed person like me....sometimes these things take longer to process than for othersJ  And for an athlete, until you are able to put the pieces together in your life outside of racing, to understand the true meaning of it all....then how can you ever expect to succeed?  How can you expect to succeed if you focus all of your energy and attention on one thing that is anything but a guarantee, and in turn, neglect (although not purposefully) the things in life that really matter?  You can’t.  So you either die trying and become progressively miserable throughout the process.  Or you stop.  Take a deep breath.  Ask yourself some fundamental questions.  Find some answers.  And then learn how to use these new answers to become a better person, both in and outside of racing.

When I was teaching, I had a poster in my classroom that said “Fall down 7 times, stand up 8.”  I always reminded my students of this, and told them that if they remembered one thing in life from our 2 years together...to remember this. ..and I hope they do.  It was time, however, for me to take some of my own advice.  Through this I also learned that sometimes you need to stay down for a little longer before you stand up.  So that when you DO stand, you stand with conviction, strength, and purpose.  The important thing is that you stand up again.  It matters not HOW you stand...for this is definitely not a race...instead just make sure you stand.

I have also realized that when you chase down a dream, the beautiful thing about it is that you cannot fail.  Either way it turns out...you will have succeeded.  If you meet your ‘outside goals’, then great.  If you don’t, then at least you will know within yourself, that when fear had you by the throat, when you felt like the puny kid at school who was backed into a corner, when you were laying face down in the dirt, that you stood up and said, ‘bring it.’  That at least you had the gall to go after it, and follow through beyond the setbacks, no matter how afraid they made you.  THAT is what matters.  As Roosevelt once said, “The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena.  Whose face is marred by dust, sweat, and blood.  Who at best knows the triumphs of success, and at worst, knows that his place does not belong with those cold, timid souls who know neither victory or defeat.” 

And it is with this that I now truly understand.  The weight has been lifted.  The pressure that I put on myself in this process is off.  I am doing this because I love it, and I understand that now.  (Gee, I'm pretty slow apparently!) I am doing it because it is something that I feel I am destined to do.  And that no matter how it all turns out, it will be a success.  The only way I could possibly fail would be to fold before the journey has been completed...or really even started!  I finally get it.  It really is the journey...thanks again, Myra;-)

In saying this, I cannot end this blog before personally thanking the following people for their support over the last few weeks.  Without this support, I truly, truly, truly would not have the opportunity to venture on this dream chasing road, because no one has the strength to do it alone.  So the following is a tribute to you:

Team Timex, particularly Tom Schuler (who if you don’t already know rode for the superstar 7-11 team and is a US National Road Champion...so he was already my hero before all of this) who proved to me that TIMEX is not the king of watches simply because they have great products for consumers to buy.    No, Timex is so much more than that.  TIMEX is the king of time because of the people who are behind it.  Good people, real people.  Thank you, TIMEX for standing behind me when I was truly at the ultimate fork in the road and for reminding me that I belong to the best damn team on the circuit.  I won’t forget it.

Eric Wikjord.  My fiancé, my best friend, who sacrifices just as much (if not more than I do) so that I can do this.  And who never wavers in his belief and support in me.  He also is living in a basement suite, he also is holding off having a family, he is also spending a lot of lonely time as I am away or putting in the miles required to be at your best in this high demand sport.  And even though it would be so easy for him to tell me to ‘stop’ when I am down, he doesn’t.  He tells me to go on.  He tells me I need to continue.  He is the least selfish person I have ever met and I can’t thank him enough.

Scott McMillan, Factor9. My coach, mentor, and friend.  For putting all that he does into helping me to reach my full potential.  Who does so much more than write my programs for me (which are impeccable...but that’s another story.) Who listens to me ramble, replies thoughtfully, and who is a person who when you meet him, demands your respect. Not because he asks for it, but because his words and actions leave you no choice..  I wouldn’t be here without all that you do. 

Jenny and Brian.  For all the support and words of wisdom day in and day out.  For inspiring me.  For sending me this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=45mMioJ5szc&feature=player_embedded

My mom.  Who listened to me, who lent an ear when I needed to talk.  Who didn’t judge, who didn’t ‘tell me what to do’ but who simply gave me enough advice to allow me to see it all for myself.

For ALL of the emails and support from each and every one of you from here in Vernon, from across Canada, and even all the way over on the far corners of the world who read my crazy little blog!  I wanted you all to know how much your support means to me, and I hope that somewhere, someone, is able to hear this story and find the strength within themselves to get back up even when they didn’t know how.  If so, then I have already succeeded.

First of all, I would like to say thank you so very much to absolutely everyone who has supported me over the last few days, as well as leading into the race.  Many of you expressed concern as to why my run splits failed to show on the Ironman Live results of the race on Sunday.  For those of you I have not yet talked to....here is what happened on Sunday.

I woke up Sunday morning feeling good...actually no...I felt great.  Although the higher level of stress of having been in a foreign country alone had tested me a few times prior to the race, I felt very much in control of the circumstances and had focused my mind appropriately for the task at hand.  To race my very best. 

The winds were very clearly going to be very strong, as already in the wee hours of the morning (just as the forecast had predicted) the wind gusts were constant at a solid 30 km. an hour.  They were swirling heavily, and it actually reminded me of the winds that one might encounter riding out to Hawi in Kona.  Yes...the kind where you hold on to your bike for dear life to avoid getting tossed off your bike.  But I had no fear or reservations about the wind.  I was ready for it, and I also know that things like this are the same for everyone out there so although I was aware of it, I was not in any way concerned about it.

The swim went off at 7 a.m. as planned, and although I am still not coming out of the water with the top pro women (which Scott and I knew to be the scenario yet) I had a reasonable swim and was pumped when I hit land to have not lost too much time.  Land.  Here is where the race really begins for me.  I hopped on my bike, but immediately knew that there was something wrong.

My stomach was off.  But, I didn't think too much about it at first as I figured it was just from the current in the river, the effort of the swim, and that after a few miles on the bike it would subside.  The problem is...it never did.  After an hour of struggling to fuel on my liquid calories, I then grabbed water from any aid station I saw and continued to fuel, but always mixing it with a swig of water to reduce the concentration...hoping this would settle my stomach.  Na da.  I then went to reach for my salt.  Although Scott and I had planned not to start in on salt until the third hour of the bike, I remember him saying that if I had any issues out there (stomach wise) that water and salt would be the step to take to help alleviate it.  When I went to grab a salt capsule from my wrist pouch I realized, with horror, that my salt capsules had disintegrated.  There was nothing but a salty mess of a pouch.  I tried actually licking the salt at one point, but that was a little futile.   I also tried gels with water in the second hour, but that made it even worse.  Over the first two hours my stomach nausea became progressively worse, and I began dry heaving and vomitting.  Sometimes I was able to keep things down, sometimes not.  But I knew that if things didn't improve soon that I would be in trouble. 

I reached the half way point of the bike in 2:35... which motivated me somewhat, but I was foggy and nauseous and not sure how I was going to go about tackling the second leg of the bike, and to be honest, my mind was already starting to shut off.  I was in some serious pain, and all I did was just keep pushing the pedals over hoping for a miracle.  Hoping that I would get over this feeling, get to the run, and be okay.  I pushed on in the bike and in this state passed Nicole Leder who didn't look a whole heck of a lot better than I imagine I looked.  The suffering really started.  The dry heaving, the vomitting, the nausea....now the heat.  At this point, I was literally forcing myself with every fibre of my being to keep fuelling, but it all tasted like poison.  What was my choice though?  Keep fuelling and hope for the best...or a definitive bonk that would surely end my day regardless.  So, I held onto the little water bottles that I collected from the aid stations (which seemed so very few and far between.)  I literally held onto a bottle at all times.  I didn't have the strength to keep putting it back in my bottle cage, so I just held it alongside my aero bars.  Desperation ensued.

I got to the run and realized that although Amy (the race leader) was a solid 20 minutes ahead at this point, that the other girls were close and very much within striking distance (at least what would have been on the case in any other situation) and if I could run the way I knew I was prepared and capable of running, that catching Amy wasn't impossible either.   I tried with all my might to focus on this, to try and trick my body into believing that it was okay, and to hope that I could somehow fight through the marathon.  I started to run and I was just horrified.  My legs wouldn't move.  I felt like an infant that was learning to walk.  Interestingly, they didn't feel 'tired' or 'sore' (at least nothing out of the ordinary at this point in the race) but my stomach was now beginning to inform the rest of my body that things were not okay.  My legs just wouldn't move.  I ran though...or shuffled...or whatever you want to call it....with the thought that I just cannot....WILL NOT quit. 

About 5 km. into the run I actually fell.  I was losing it.  A guy stopped and helped to pick me up.  He seemed pretty concerned, but I knew I couldn't listen to him.  I just had to keep going. He told me to walk for a few minutes, but I told him I couldn't...and I went.  A few km. later I saw Heather Gollnick yelling at me that I was catching them and to keep going.  I tried to hold onto those words, but my body was shutting down on me and there wasn't a thing I could do.  I stopped at each aid station to grab coke or gatorade or water or whatever I could try and get for some sort of fuel...but every time I put something in my mouth I felt worse.  It was like being trapped in a really bad dream. 

At about 12-13 km. I saw the Special Needs bags and I called out "24" (my race number.)  I knew I had extra salt in my bag so I was going to get some.  At that moment I must have looked pretty bad because out of the corner of my eye I saw a Chinese man running after me in English yelling, "Are you okay?  Are you okay?'  It was at that moment where I remember saying, "No...no...I'm not okay."  I tried to open my ziploc bag of salt but I couldn't seem to do it.  At that point, I fell to the ground and literally lay down on the blazing hot pavement.  Some Chinese spectators started yelling and screaming...and it was all over.  They pulled me to the grass, started hitting me, throwing 'hot' water (as that's all there was on this 40 degree day) all over my body.  I remember a man hitting my feet trying to keep me in the conscious world, and I wanted to tell him to stop as I realized I had a blister on my foot and he was really hurting it...but I couldn't. 

I remember feeling like I was hyperventilating, I just couldn't catch my breath.  They put me into an ambulance, took me out on a stretcher and proceeded to hook me up onto IVs.  I was conscious throughout, but barely.  I remember my eyes being like slits.  When they put the oxygen mask on my face, all I remember were tears streaming down the sides of my face.  I felt so ashamed and severely disappointed in myself that I wasn't going to finish the race.  A DNF.  All the way to China....a DNF.  It was a nightmare. 

Anyways, I won't go into details too much more...there were many more details...but I can save that for another time.  I kept absolutely nothing down well into the night and the next day.  I saw another doctor the next day who gave me nausea pills that thankfully just put me to sleep.  I managed to pack my bike and suitcase and prepare to leave China the next day.  My parents tried to convince me to stay another day or two to rest before getting on the flight, and although they had a point, I just had to get out of China.  I had to come home.  I was tired, weary, sick, and felt terribly alone at this point. 

Needless to say, I am back in Canada.  After seeing another doctor here, and now being in the process of getting tests done to see what it is I have...it has become very clear that I contracted something from the Nandu River as I am still not well.   So many other athletes became sick during their time in China.  Some before the race, some during, some after.  But it affected a great number of us...and everyone who was there also agrees.....it was the river...which was surrounded by small huts, water buffalo, you name it.  Whatever it was, it got me good...and it killed my race...this time.  If you want my opionion...this race should never have been allowed to have gone on.  It just wasn`t safe for any athlete, and truthfully, the organizers are lucky that someone didn`t die out there.  I am serious when I say that.  I won`t often say something so brash on a blog, but I believe it with every fibre of my being, and I am living proof that the Nandu River was anything but an appropriate place to hold in IM swim.  Anything but.

I am still recovering physically and mentally from the experience.  My goal right now is to re-gain full health as soon as possible so that I can get 'back on the horse' and utilize my hard earned fitness.  Ironman St. George in Utah is in 6 weeks and I am looking to go after some unfinished business.  But for now, I will focus on recovery.

Thank you to absolutely everyone who has helped, and continues to support me through this.  No, it is not easy right now....but I'll tell ya...it's sure making me tough.  That's for sure.

The continued dip in temperature still has us all scratching our heads. Jackets? Wetsuits needed in the pool?  None of us even considered bringing 'warm' racing or training gear!  The temperature for race day is supposed to be back to normal at 30 degrees, and I believe that it will be, but for now....we're on our 5th day of relative COLD here!  Truly!  Who'd have guessed?

 I was also recently moved out of my hotel room.  I was told that all pros would be moved to the Spa Room during race week.  I failed to consider the Chinese definition of spa and so didn't think too much about it.  But on the 9th, I was moved into my Spa Room...which actually turns out to be a dorm room.  Apparently in Chinese, these two things mean the same thing?  Not quite.  However, as 'pros' we tend to live at little more cheaply than our fellow counterparts who have 'real' jobs with regular pay cheques! So, off to the dorm room we go.  Goodbye internet connection, HBO, warm showers (which you actually need these days) and even consistently flushing toilets. 

Honestly, it's not all bad though.  I am a 'curtain' away from Marilyn and Chris McDonald who I have just met here. Class acts, and Chris has already helped me to adjust my brakes.  The room also doesn't have a window (which sounds much worse than it is) and I slept beautifully for 13 hours last night!  Except, of course, for the 9:30 wake up call when Chris and Marilyn arrived back to find a room to find there was no longer any electricity.  They called for management, who then sent up at least 12 Chinese 'engineers' all yelling into cell phones at the top of their lungs.  There are some problems that even ear plugs can't solve.  Anyways, Chris solved the problem.  He flipped a braker switch.  Good to go. Ahem.

 I'm also meeting some super people. Roberta and Scott from Australia are right now, as we speak, out to dinner, but allowing me to lounge in their hotel room to use their computer in their swanky room!!!  Yes, they have real jobs...and a bathtub to boot:-)  I also met a couple of guys in the city the other day who made an epic comment that I just have to mention.  They are here studying Chinese.  One of them (I've forgotten his name!) is from Norway, and with his thick Norwegian accent said to me, "Ironman hey? That's some mean shit."  MEAN SHIT!!!  I swear, you could make a sweet buck selling t-shirts with that saying on it.  Back off people....I'm working on a patent!  Ha Ha.

I also purchased my very own rice cooker and hot pot here. For only a few dollars I can now make it all myself (not only to save some money) but largely because the restaurant is going to start to get busy.  I don't want to have to wait/worry about getting things - especially the day before the race. Nice to know I can make it myself. The supermarket also ran out of tuna in spring water. Gee...I wonder why?  I have one last glimmering, holy can of tuna left which will also be saved for before the race because I know exactly what it is.  A can of tuna...who'd have thought?

Also, with the race soon in the future, things are starting to heat up.  The EXPO opens tomorrow and there is a buzz in the air now.  I am noticing my similar 'pre-race' experiences/habits are emerging.  Waking up with butterflies in my stomach, washing my hands freakishly often, diligently watching every thing I put in my mouth to eat, walking slower, even breathing a bit slower to save every speck of energy that will be used (and left) on the race course.  Yes, a race is upon us.  The signs have emerged - let it begin!