It's all about heart

There are so many things in life we take for granted. Our heart is one of them. For an average person this amazing organ, responsible for keeping us alive, beats about 100,000 times per day, and 35M times/year. Incredible right? And each of these beats ensures that oxygen, nutrients, and more get where they need to go. It's pretty crazy when you think about it. And it's not large, some say it is the size of your fist.

 

How much do you think about your heart? I know I don't think about it that often. I do when I can feel my heart rate getting high during an interval - it's a reflection of the work my body is doing - a signal of fitness (or lack thereof), fatigue, and health. I reflect on my resting Heart rate to also give me insights into how 'healthy' I am. But other than that? I just expect it to work. To be there.

 

Until now. One day in Feb as I was doing a 3 hour training ride to prep for my 'endurance-race-filled' summer, I felt my heart do something it hadn't done before. It felt like it was beating really hard and really fast. I've pushed my heart rate pretty high in the past, but this was different. I could feel my heart beat in my fingers , and I had no choice but to back off, to go really slow. My vision went a bit pink, and my peripheral vision was less focused. My chest tightened up and it felt harder to breathe. I was almost home, and chalked it up to a cold I'd been fighting, and purchased a new HRM as I thought my current one was failing. The next weekend it happened again, in the middle of Belgium Waffle Ride Arizona. 3.5 hours into a 7.5 hour race, it happened on the longest climb of the race. Normally at this point I'm settling in, and Its my time to shine. But that was not  happening. After the 'episode', everything felt hard. I had to dig deep emotionally and physically to finish - it was literally one pedal stroke at a time for some sections. Yes, I did finish 2nd in my AG, but it was not, for me, a good race. At the finish Jonathan asked me how it went. My response told more than I knew: " it was not great.  I felt like I was breathing death, but I am proud of me for focusing on relentless forward momentum".

 

I didn't give it a lot of thought until the next weekend. Third time is a charm, or for me, an alarm. It happened again, on a training ride. I knew something was not right. I talked to some friends and my coach. I started to look at my data. My heart rate had hit 223bpm for 5 min at BWR, and about 221bpm the weekend before/after. That was not good.  My race calendar went 'on hold'.  In that moment, all the planned trips and races went up in smoke. TBD.

 

I approached this like I approach most things - with energy and determination. :)  I called around - made an appointment with a highly recommended cardiologist and also took and appointment with a cardiologist who could see me right away. Long story short, I got my GP to order me a heart cam, bought myself a Frontier X2 which is an HRM that also captures your EKG, and started to collect the data while I waited for the recommended cardiologist.  Fast forward to today and I've captured 100's of hours of EKG, had an Echo, a CT Plaque scan, a stress test with heart imaging, and bloodwork done.  I got the heart cam results back - max heart rate of 362 (for that one, the HRM only measured 206!), suspected SVT with some Afib and Artial flutters.  I've spent hours learning how to read an EKG and pouring over my data.  I *think* I have figured out the pattern that causes the SVT to happen.   I've seen an electrophysiologist and they confirmed what the heart cam reported and got me in for an ablation procedure on June 13th which will hopefully resolve all the issues!  I feel so fortunate that in 3 short months I am already in a place where we know what is wrong, and we have a plan to fix it! Amazing, really.

 

It has been, so far, quite a journey. One filled with so much gratitude, grief, and reflection. Of recognition and remembrance that everything, including our time here on earth, is temporary. Of a deeper love and appreciation for what I get to experience each day. Of joy. And finally, of hope.

 

I am hopeful that the ablation procedure will resolve the issues, and I will be explore the great outdoors untethered, to push my body and explore my limits.   This evolution of 'becoming our best selves' is rarely what we expect it to be, and may not look how I want it to.  Regardless of how it evolves, my aspiration is to accept the journey with love, compassion, and joy.

 

Race report - BWR Arizona

 It's not all sunshine and roses, in fact what happens behind the scenes, can be pretty hard sometimes - this is true for everything in life. Work, Relationships, Athletic endeavors, and striving to be the best version for you. This weekend was a good example of this for me on the athletic front, and i'm sharing it on FB because i think it's important to acknowledge that we all struggle. We all have bad days. it's what we do when that happens that can shape us. I have more work and growth to do here - but am so happy to be on that journey with amazing humans who support me.

So .... this past weekend i did a 103mi gravel race in Arizona. Going in I knew I wasn’t in top shape. My knee was bothering me - i'd strained my mcl at Whistler, and it had flared up my right hip/glute and back. I had Zoe’s cold. Oh and that thing caused perimenopause was messing with me and i had wicked hot flashes leading up to the race which meant crap sleep. But that’s life and that’s racing. I knew it would be hard but I was committed to doing the race. Looking back I don’t think I mentally prepared for just how hard it would be. It was brutal.

My word for the day was gratitude. And contrary to how I might sound so far, I was grateful. You see, despite all these life things, i was here! The weather was perfect. The scenery was amazing. I was here to ride my bike all day- what a treat! In the start shoot I saw the moon - how cool. i love seeing the moon in the day. This moon would be my steady companion thru out the day.

The start was insanely fast… after the 10k climb we would dip into the dirt and no one wanted to be caught behind anyone else. I was one of those people and worked really hard to keep on a good wheel leading into the dirt. Once there I practiced safe passing and did my best. I felt pretty good, not amazing- my back hurt and my right hip hurt like heck but I’d applied some tiger balm and it was helping.

Into the dirt I was feeling pretty good and did a good job ignoring the pain in my back and hip. My knees were holding up with the copper compression sleeves I had on (that doubled as knee warmers!). I got stuck behind some slower riders, relaxed, and passed when I could. Once we were back on the dirt roads I found my caffeine and Tylenol. It’s like I felt it immediately, I felt so good going into 3 hours. And I was half done already! Wow, I thought, this could be a good day.

At this point I’d made one fatal mistake you cannot undo. I had not eaten enough. When I realized it had been 3 hours and I’d maybe consumed 300 cal, I started to shove food down my throat. But you cannot undo mistakes like that, and I would pay for it.

The wheels seem to come off around mile 75 to mile 95. And these miles were brutal. 2 miles of sand I could not ride thru. Single track that was grueling and where you did lot get any rest on the descents. Climbing. A lot of climbing. I watched the girls I’d been riding with and had passed, pass me. I said to myself. It’s ok. You just keep moving. Your job is to suffer now, so suffer as much as you can. I had no ability to push. I kept eating. Around mile 90, it came back. Part of it was that my body had more fuel. And part of it I’m sure was that I knew the suffering would be over and at the end I’d ask myself if I’d suffered as much as I could. I wanted to answer myself that yes, honestly I had. And I did. I honestly had suffered as much as I could on the day.

The views were so amazing. And every time I’d be tired and be hurting, I’d look out to the view and say “thank you”, locking the moon in my gaze. The moon was still there. I was still there. I could do this. I just kept pedaling and at some point it felt like my legs were on auto pilot.

I knew my power was low and ignored the numbers, focusing on the km until the next turn so I could break up the ride. The hardest part was a road climb where I seemed to struggle to hold over 160w. It was so demoralizing. I turned inward. Give what you have I told myself. Don’t leave any regrets out here. And I didn’t. i'm proud of not giving up.

Several times in the race I wanted to cry. My back hurt so much. My hip hurt so much. It was hard to push, my breathing was off. I could tell my glutes were not firing and my back was taking the load. Every time It felt 'too hard', i would ask myself: can you keep pedaling? Yes. Then stop feeling sorry for yourself and keep pedaling! Ok. I kept moving. I looked up. the moon was still there, my loyal companion. At this point, I didn’t give a crap about anyone else. I passed some and some passed me. I kept pedaling. I was deep in my own world of suffering mixed with gratitude. I kept looking up to see the moon, still in the sky, and the views - so breathtaking.

At the finish I was so done! I was not happy with my performance, but i had showed up for myself and i had dug so deep. my girls were proud of me. I had placed 2nd in my age group. And honestly I was proud of me too. I’d done something very hard for me on that day. I wish it had been a different kind of hard. But it’s days like this that make us realize what we are capable of. And make us question our life choices 🤪

and yes, i want to do another one. and i want to do better, to remember the lessons i learned and get another chance to see what i can do - emotionally, physically, mentally. And so now it's time to recover and recharge so i can try this again.

huge shoutout to my family - what great support i get! And to my community - my coach, Element Cycles for getting my bikes ready, and my friends. I feel like such a winner just by having these amazing humans in my life.

UCI Gravel World Championships

What a gift to get to race the UCI Gravel World Championships! From start to finish the trip was full of memories, love, joy, and discovery.   We decided to make the trip into a family adventure and all 5 of us made the trek Italy! We arrived exactly one week prior to race day, and stayed a few days after. So many incredible memories 

Leading up to race day the training was 'not optimal', but as an athlete who is also a mom with a demanding full time job, I am used to this, and because of that, it is easier for me not to stress and just 'go with the flow'.  Although it can be challenging, i feel privileged to be able to juggle so many things I love.  Carb loading started as soon as we landed with all the amazing Pasta, Pizza, Gnocchi, and more - the food was amazing (and a 7 day carb load is totally legitimate right? :P) . We walked about 10 miles a day exploring towns until 2 days prior to race day when i made the hard but good decision to 'chill' in the apartment while Jonathan and the girls went off to visit some cool historical towns. 

I can honestly say that registration for the race was the most stressful part of the whole race. Registration was Friday and for some reason they could not find my UCI license in their database. The commissaire showed up after about an hour and cleared me to race - i was in another database but not the one the race organizers could check (??). In any case, i left registration a bit tired from the stress, AND full of appreciation that I could line up on Saturday to race my heart out!

On race day i woke up excited. Today was the day! I get to race my bike thru an amazing UNESCO heritage site, mountains, vineyards, and farms. It was going to be beautiful, painful, and an amazing experience.  Lining up on Saturday was pure magic. I got into my pen 25 min early and everyone around me was chatting about how nervous they were. I did a little check in with myself ... how was i feeling? I was excited and i was incredibly thankful to be here, to race, and to represent Canada and wear the Maple Leaf. I can honestly say I wasn't nervous until the 30 second count down for our group. 

The vibes at the start were amazing - so much energy! i got to meet so many cool people waiting for the start. My age group (45 - 49) was the largest age group (aside from Elite which had ~100), with 30 competitors. I was anticipating a fast start and wanted to be in the front to avoid any crashes or delays in the CX section at the start. Given this i was prepped for action and had a solid start, grabbing the hole shot and then backing off once we settled in on the gravel. We had a solid group that worked well together for the first few KMs until the first rocky descent. I had heard about this descent from a few people and was prepared for it to be really hard and super sketchy. In reality it was short and not very steep, but full of fist-sized rocks. I rode a line to the left of the field and passed many people - this is where we caught the first age group ahead of us and i lost track of where i was in my field. 

I was positioning myself to be in the draft and quickly realized that i was a better technical rider than most of the field around me - better at navigating rocks, gravel, corners and especially the downhills. I was pleasantly surprised to see how much time i would gain or how little effort i had to expend to stay in the pack on these sections.  The course was unforgiving for many. Of the 30 starters in my field, only 28 made it to the first checkpoint, 27 at the second checkpoint, 26 at the 3rd, 25 at the 4th, 17 at the 5th, and 14 at the finish!  Part of the attrition was due to the cut off times (i'm assuming this happened before the 4th and 5th cut offs), but part was due to mechanicals, crashes, and the hard steep climbs on the course.

Thru to the first checkpoint/food station there were several times when i would look at the pace of the group and decide if i should stay in the draft or go off on my own. Ultimately the group size was too large for me to make much headway alone until the climbs and the first 25km of the course was relatively flat, so it was smart to stay in the group. At 25km we hit the first climb and got a taste of what was to come... i quickly gained a gap on the group i was with and held that into the second segment.  Somewhere in that second segment i caught a girl and we worked together for a while ... well, until she pushed me to the inside on a corner with a sloppy pass and i landed drive-side down.  I took a moment to assess myself and my bike - from what i could see the handlebar had been turned in and i had some scratches. OK, keep riding. Unfortunately the derailleur was pretty messed up. The gears were skipping around but i eventually found a few i could ride in. As long as i could ride, i was happy. 

We hit a steep climb and i needed my easiest gear ... unfortunately the chain went into the spokes (and so did part of the derailleur. I pulled it out, pulled on the derailleur hanger and then started walking. I have to pause here to talk about the people. Italians are amazing. They love their bike racing/riding. The locals were out on EVERY SINGLE CLIMB cheering us on. I cannot think of a climb where there were not a bunch of locals cheering. It was just amazing. I really enjoyed soaking in all of their positive energy as i rode up the climbs. It made my day so much better. On this particular climb a guy saw me walking and told me (in Italian) to get back on my bike and ride ... that i could do it. I laughed. and then i thought ... well lets try. I shifted to ensure i was not in the easiest gear and hoped on and he gave me a nice little push to help me get going! and yes, after that i was determined to make it to the top of that climb on the bike :)

About 2 hours into the race i had the usual back, hip, and quad pain that is a reminder of how lucky i am to have survived the car that hit me over a year ago. I started my on the bike stretches on every descent and whenever i could sit in the draft and not pedal for a bit. This pain made me appreciate being in the race even more.

I knew though that i needed to stop and get help. the hardest, longest, steepest climbs were yet to come  ... i did not know the terrain but i knew what the course looked like wrt climbing/descending. So i made a decision to stop at the next aid station for a mechanic. And I did. I explained in broken Italian and French and English what i needed (my easiest gear in the back and please make sure my chain does not go into my spokes!) and he said ok! I then asked for a toilet. no toilets (what!!?? - this is worth a pause too ... the course went thru towns, backyards, vineyards, and fields - there was no spot to duck off the course and pee without peeing on someone's vineyard or yard. A little different than racing in the usa :)). One of the guys at the stop said no issue, come with me ... and proceeded to take me into his home so i could use their toilet! How very nice! there was a cute little dog there that just loved me and refused to leave the bathroom which was quite hilarious.  I refilled on water while i was there since i was already stopped. The bike fix and toilet stop took me about 7 -10 minutes and i was on my way again with two specific jobs i was focused on:  (1) ride all the climbs .... no walking. i stopped to fix my bike and i would ride dammit! and (2) see how many people i could catch.  

There were several gears that were unusable (skipping around) in the middle of my cassette but the easy gears and hard gears were solid. It was the best i could ask for and i was super happy i could keep riding. The rest of the race was spent catching groups, recovering for a bit, asking them if they wanted to work with me, and then catching the next group. after the half way point anyone i'd catch would say 'yes' to working with me but the next thing i knew i was alone again and they were somewhere off the back. they were fading and i was on a mission. I was feeling strong, had been fueling well, and was continuing to soak in all the positive energy from the spectators. It was a good day. I was working hard, and sometimes i cursed the course, but it was a good day. 

The second half of the course had most of the climbing and it was unrelenting and very steep. At points i saw 25% on my Garmin, and it was all i could do to keep pushing the pedals to make it up the hills. The cheering spectators were out in full force and were a great source of energy and encouragement. On one of the final climbs, which was particularly steep and long and ended with 100m of very loose gravel, i was really struggling. Everyone was walking. I passed some of the pro women walking. Men were walking. I was the only one riding - but it was much faster than walking. so i kept going. When i turned the corner and saw the loose gravel it was tempting to give up and walk. just at that moment a spectator asked me if i was ready to push hard and ride to the top? only 100m left he said. I said i will try! and he ran beside me with a hand on my back the rest of the way up the hill! wow! I was really out of breath at the end of that climb but so thankful and full of joy for the comradery and the act of kindness that i had just experienced. I'll say it again. Italians are amazing. 

I pushed all the way to the finish, not having a clue where i was in the field. I was so spent when i was done and when Jonathan told me i was 5th in my AG, i almost cried. What a day. What an experience. I am so thankful for all the help and support i had along the way. It takes a village to make things like this happen ... my coach got the engine ready, Element Cycles got the bike ready, and First Endurance provided the nutrition that fueled me (with pancakes, crepes, and cookies too of course).   Jonathan was my biggest supporter, watching the kids while I did many long rides and races to prepare.  And i had a community of support from others in my life ... I was touched by those of you who reached out to wish me luck and send me your positive vibes - thank you so much - it means so much.

A few other memories that stick in my head:

• The endless Vinyards and smell of over-ripe grapes
• the thick coat of dust all over my body from about 3km in until the end
• the people, oh the people!
• the warm feeling of the sun on my body
• the cool feeling that would last about 1 min when a spectator dumped water down my back
• the warmth and energy of the people (yes, again!)

And with that, my gravel season for 2023 is a wrap! My focus will be on Cyclocross and Esports for the next few months ... but you can bet i'll be back for more gravel in 2024.

Flagstaff training race

Friday I hopped on a plane to Az so I could do a training race in flagstaff. I knew the altitude would be tough. Not much was posted about the course but looking at the map I knew that it was just shy of 100 miles and had over 6k of climbing, with a max elevation of 9000ft.   It was going to be hard. Exertion at altitude is a challenge for sea dwellers and exasperated with asthma. I took my puffer before and carried it. The race organizers said the course would take 5 hours. That meant it should be fast, so I put ample (read:too much) pressure in my tires. I also never fully trust race prediction times and packed enough food for about 10 hours 🤪. 

 

I had my camelback and 2 bottles and figured, if the race times were right I’d only stop once. The race started with a mellow 4 mile neutral lead out where I was nicely positioned at the front right behind the Aussie national champion. Then all hell broke loose. Normally in a long gravel race people form groups and stuck together. It quickly became evident that this was no normal race. As soon as the lead our vechicle turned out it was on. The men just kept attacking. A group would form, then an attack. The following group would fight to get back. Another attack. It was relentless. I stayed with this group at a hard pace for about 45 min before my legs said “no”, and my heart rate warned me I was in the red for too long. I settled back into a tempo pace on my own. And that was that. For the rest of the race I was solo. I’d meet up with someone every now and then, chat for a bit and then we’d go out separate ways due to hill skills or aid station stops.

 

I was sure that I was racing for second after the first hour. The AUS national gravel champ was there and she’d hitched onto an attack I missed. There was one out and back- up to saddle mountain- and I saw her on the way down. She was about 5 min ahead of me 40 miles into the race. I was surprised. I expected her to be further ahead. I told myself: keep pushing, never give up… you are doing this to test your limits .  she’s a great carrot for you to chase. Stay focused.   

 

I really tried to focus on pedaling. My mantra for the day was Relentless Forward Momentum. My goal for the day was to empty the tank. I did both. 

 

The course was unforgiving. The singletrack was so narrow you couldn’t see the dirt. There were a lot of chunky rocks. I didn’t see one big one and I came unclipped and my pedal took a chunk out of my ankle. Ouch. Keep going. The climbs were long, sometimes really loose, and exposed to headwinds. Keep going. Some of the down hills were so sketchy I had to put my foot down a few times. Yup, keep going. After hitting 9000 ft I was experiencing altitude sickness - dizzy,  a bit nauseous. Took my puffer and kept going. 

 

There are these moments where I am reminded of the impact of the car hitting me head on a year ago. My brain can’t process the sun/shade sometimes and I have to stop, close my eyes and take a few deep breaths, then try again. And  I get this deep deep pain in my right quad where the muscle was torn-  pretty much a constant companion a few hours into a long ride. I’ve figured out a stretch I can do while on the bike that alleviates the pain, and sometimes I do it once per mile. Sometimes 5x per mile.  Sometimes once every 5 miles. It’s not what you think- I’m not complaining. These moments fuel me. I have a flash of frustration, then I have an overwhelming sense of gratitude and desire to push. My mental thought process goes like this: I’m here. I signed up for this. Yes it hurts. Yes it is hard.  It is exactly what I wanted. Suffering induces growth. Get after it. Use the opportunity to grow. And so I keep going. Relentless forward momentum. 

 

The aid stations deserve a shout out. The first one only had whiskey 🤪. Yup. Whiskey. Thankfully the water station was just another 5 miles. I dropped a bottle somewhere in the chaos of continuous attacks in the first hour. I stopped 3 times, not wanting to risk running out of water. There were tutus, whiskey, and friendly faces at each one. 

 

I did ok on my fueling, consuming ~1800 cal and 5.5L of fluids in just under 7 hours. Yes, that is how long the race took me.  I target between 200-250cal per hour on the bike and was happy to hit my mark. I ate pancakes (oat banana from home), waffles, sandwiches, cliff blocks, Skratch chews, and had EFS pro in my bottles. I like variety and it worked well. And yes, I had food left. I also consumed all my saltstix tabs (about 12). It was hot and dry!  My feet kept feeling like they were either on fire (kept loosening the boa) or about to cramp. I’ve never had that on a long race. Something to study. The tabs kept me from cramping and there was not much I could do about the feeling of fire, or what people call hot spots. Hurt like hell… but I kept going. 

 

There is a time in almost every really long race where you ask yourself “why am I here? Why do I do this? What the f** was I thinking?”. The answer is always the same. You chose this. You want to find your limits and push thru them. You are here to learn and grow. You are here to suffer and part of you dies, making room for other parts to grow stronger. Every time you do this, you come out stronger. So keep going. For me, this line of questioning can happen a few times. Usually around or just before 4 hours in, and again in the last miles if they are tough. And boy were those miles tough. There is a saying that pain is weakness leaving the body. I left a lot of weakness out there in the desert. All part of the process, making room for something stronger to grow.  

 

I am proud of my ride. Proud of my growth. And the icing on the cake is that somewhere along the line the AUS champ called it, and I came first. Relentless forward momentum for the win.