Race Report: Ironman 70.3 – Lake Stevens, Washington, USA (July 15, 2012)

As I sit down to reflect on the events of last weekend’s Ironman 70.3 (my first half ironman triathlon), it feels like it was a lifetime ago.  I spent a whirlwind few days in Lake Stevens and to be honest, I remember little more than my four day fling with theweathernetwork.com, absent-mindedly watching a string of movies I’ll never be able recount, and the almighty and enigmatic feeling of running up that finishing chute.  I highly recommend it.

This is not a fable. This is my reality.

I once knew a girl who couldn’t run 3km. The first day she attempted this “milestone” distance, she almost threw up and had to walk home.  

I once knew a girl who agreed to run 10km in a team at the 2008 Noosa Triathlon. As she anxiously awaited the arrival of her cyclist team mate, her nerves were so debilitating she had to squat down in transition for fear of fainting, and put her head on her knees for fear of throwing up.

I now know a girl who can run a half marathon. Not only can she run a half marathon, but she can do so after first swimming 1.9 km and then biking 90. 

One week on, being able to reflect and realize how far I’ve come is truly satisfying.

It’s a funny thing, perspective.

I decided a long time ago not to compare myself to anyone else. As hard as this may be for a perfectionist of my caliber (I say this in jest), I found that comparing myself to others only exacerbated my own feelings of inadequacy in the triathlon realm.  I compete in triathlons (and other sporting events) to challenge and motivate myself, to live a healthy life and to confront my fear of failure. I also have an insatiable desire to cross as many things off my bucket list as possible.

I am certainly not outwardly competitive. I know plenty of people who are shamelessly competitive, motivated by a desire to defeat others. I have absolutely nothing against this form of motivation, but it just doesn’t do it for me and it never has. Having said that, I don’t see my attitude as ‘defeatist’ either. I’ll never be “the best”, but I’ll be my “best”, and I’m perfectly content with that. 

Lake Stevens … it’s no Kona?

Yeah, you’re right. It’s no Kona. Although not an Ironman myself I can safely say being engaged to an Ironman and having lived, breathed and survived Busselton and Cozumel (and now Canada, in five weeks) by his side, I get it. Ironman – a world of never-ending loads of washing, sinks full of scummy water bottles, entire weekends of training, ‘surprise’ GU in places you’d never believe, six-plus months of alarm-interrupted sleep and the aroma of ‘sweaty man’ (we live in a basement apartment in Vancouver, after all) embedded in practically everything you own (nb: no amount of Febreze will ever combat ‘sweaty man’).  You’d think it would be easy for me to appreciate my own achievements, hailing from a world that lives and breathes endurance sport. Conversely, having to remove myself from the “Ironman bubble” was a challenge in itself. It would have been easy to cast the events of the past week aside. To my Ironman fiancé and my other Ironman and marathon-running friends, a half ironman would seem like a training day and, at times, I couldn’t help but let that feeling of inadequacy creep in. When you’re surrounded by likeminded individuals who have their own goals, achievements, gifts and talents it can be really hard not to compare your own. Hang on; didn’t I just say I stopped comparing myself? Clearly, I’m a work in progress.

At the end of the day, I was simply forced to take a step back, remind myself of the girl who couldn’t run 3km, reflect on the past nine months of dedicated training and realize just how many people there are who will never get to experience the combined feeling of relief, joy and satisfaction that is pushing yourself to an absolute physical limit and living to tell the tale. That will always be the best feeling, no matter the length or nature of the event.

The swim, bike, run.

I woke up early on Sunday morning, eager to get started. I had, in fact, been eager to complete the event for the two weeks leading up as I was getting tired of the recurring nightmares I was having – being pulled out of the swim, not being able to get my wetsuit off and getting one, or numerous, punctures. Also, I was pretty much just sick of the training (rather, the training in less than conducive Vancouver weather) and ready for the glory day.  After all, training is never the glamorous part.

I think I had a combined four hours of sleep – I had been drinking so much water in the name of hydration, I would’ve been best placed to sleep in the bathroom. Bladder aside, I was a bundle of nervousness, albeit controlled – not the kind of nerves that make you want to throw up, pass out, or both (see above).  Thankfully our accommodation was located right in the centre of town so at 5 am we made our way down to transition and the swim start.  I lathered myself with body glide and gracefully slid my wetsuit on. I lie. Putting a wetsuit on is not at all graceful. It’s downright ugly and exhausting, even with ample body glide.

Wet-suited up!

I didn’t have a goal time for my race. My goal for my first half ironman was to finish. In doing so, I wanted to make sure I enjoyed the experience and didn’t go so hard trying for a particular time that I exhausted myself and would then forever look back on my first half ironman with sadness and disappointment. I know I sound like a “mum”, but I wanted to enjoy myself, and I wanted to have fun. This philosophy worked a treat for me in the end, as I finished in 7 hours and 14 seconds. If I had a goal time I might’ve been disappointed – 14 seconds past the hour! But I finished – I was as happy as could be!

Swim

Mine was the third wave, and first of the age group waves. We started three minutes after the pro women, so in my mind I was going to swim so fast I’d be able to bridge the three-minute gap and sit right in the wake of Mirinda Carfrae. This did not happen. Nevertheless, I had a great swim – I actually really enjoyed it for a change. I swam completely alone for 75% of the leg. For this reason I thought I was swimming the slowest 1.9km in the history of the universe and I assumed everyone else had passed me. Whenever these negative thoughts crept up I just pushed them back and told myself that everything was as it was meant to be. Having my own space and not having to endure kicks to the face or leg grabs meant that I was able to get into a great rhythm. A buoy guideline on the bottom of the clear lake also helped a great deal – I only swam straight into a buoy once! My eyesight is not so good, you see. In the end, I was 10^th in my age group – not bad!

Bike

After exiting the water and having a minor domestic with my wetsuit, I was off on the bike leg. Although Mother Nature wasn’t smiling upon us, I embraced the weather, pushing the negative thoughts back (as I had done in the swim) and focusing on the positives. The weather: steady rain – so similar to Vancouver. Why was I thinking negative thoughts? This weather is my bread and butter!

Out of the swim and off on the bike! (Notice the wetsuit is now half in the garden!)

In the weeks leading up to the race I was struggling with my riding. I had lost my love of cycling (doing 90% of my cycling training inside on the wind trainer while it rained and snowed outside didn’t help) and I was particularly nervous about being able to comfortably ride the 90km without suffering bad leg or back pain, which had hampered my training previously. I can honestly say the bike course, a  “moderately hilly”, scenic one loop through outer Lake Stevens and surrounds, was absolutely beautiful (though a little miserable, given the steady rain) – the views, the peacefulness… and my love of cycling was rekindled. My newfound love was tested four or five times throughout the bike leg as I challenged the hills. I witnessed a few crashes, plenty of punctures and a couple of near misses between competitors and cars (the majority of the course was open to traffic; a minority of Lake Stevens locals do not, it appears, like cyclists). Nevertheless I plugged away, passed virtually no one (only a couple of mechanicals and maybe a 70 year old man), didn’t take in enough nutrition and everything was in its right place. Just the way I like it. 

Thankfully, just as I was tiring of my own company (around the 70km mark), I spotted my support crew – dancing; cheering; doing the Mexican wave – that helped to keep the motivation up for the remaining 20km and before I knew it I was back into town and off on the run leg.

My support crew Mexican waving to cheer me on.

High fives on the bike! So happy to see people I know!

Fan love.

Run

Although unequivocally my worst leg, the run is my favourite. Why? Because it’s the glory leg. Plus I also know it’s the leg where something bad is least likely to happen to me (i.e. I can’t drown and I can’t crash, get a mechanical or a puncture).  The moment I racked my bike, slipped my sneakers on and gingerly shuffled off, passing beneath the “run exit” sign, was the moment I knew I’d return in roughly two and half hours to become a half ironman. There was no doubt in mind (thank you, positivity!).

The start of the run, a two-lap course throughout the town and along the lake, was a little painful. A big steady incline (which I had to run up, because my support crew had already made it back from the bike course and were cheering me on – I couldn’t disappoint even though I desperately wanted to walk) didn’t help matters but after about three or so kilometres I had managed to work myself into a steady run. Someone should’ve reminded me to Google “miles to kilometres conversion” before the race. I am a terrible mathematician and my negligence here cost me dearly. I actually think if I was able to convert each section to kilometres, it would’ve been easier to motivate myself between mile markers. Nevertheless I made it through the first 12km relatively unscathed.

Run time - high fives!

There were about four hills on the run course in total. I also forgot to do my hill research here and again, suffered a little. Strangely enough (or kind of sickening, upon reflection), as the run wore on, the more suffering I felt, the more I enjoyed it. On the few occasions I walked, it was almost as if I was purposely delaying the inevitable - allowing myself more time to soak everything up and really embrace both the experience (with my fellow comrades) and the magnitude of what I knew I was about to accomplish.

Half way into the second lap things started to fall apart just a little. My left leg started playing up and a bone in my right foot was killing me. I was also absolutely starving (which I had never experienced in training before) – I can only assume as a result of lack of nutrition on the bike. I felt a little broken. Not mentally, just physically. Funnily enough, the ability of my mind to comprehend the pain and suffering seemed to diminish as the race wore on.  The longer I ran, the more enjoyable it seemed. This may go a long way to explaining how so many people can push themselves to finish even longer endurance events like Ironman, ultra marathons etc.

By the time I turned the corner and approached the finishing chute I thought I was going to vomit and/or faint - in a really good way. A culmination of everything I had been through with my training and sickness in the months leading up hit me and I felt a massive wave of relief. True to form I crossed the line following my own version of a sprint finish (I always like to sprint the end) and was greeted shortly thereafter by my wonderful (and very vocal) support crew.

Approaching the finish line of my first 70.3 - a long time coming!

Race day role reversal!

Sweet finish line rewards - foil capes and medals!

Jerry’s  Natalie’s final thought …

If I could impart any advice from my first experience at half ironman triathlon, it would be the following:

Clarify your goals and expectations – know why you’re there and what you’re doing it for. Stay positive – don’t sweat the small stuff. Remove yourself from your version of the “Ironman bubble” and make sure you take time to comprehend what you’ve achieved.

 “What would you do if you knew you couldn’t fail?”

When I first signed up for Lake Stevens Ironman 70.3, I had this quote in my mind. I love this quote, because it makes me keep challenging myself.  Now I’m officially a half ironman, what’s next on the agenda? Maybe a marathon. Maybe an Ironman. Who knows? But for now, Ironman Canada is only five weeks away. It’s time to put my support crew hat on. After all, these scummy water bottles aren’t going to wash themselves …

While you've been having a life ...

So it's 5.30 on a Monday afternoon and I'm all rugged up in bed, sitting in my pj's. I'm also just putting it out there that I'm not going to be moving any time soon. 

Surprisingly, I'm not sick. To the contrary, actually, I've just arrived home having completed 6 hours of exercise consisting of 5 hours and 10 minutes on the bike, followed by a 50 minute run. What makes me all the more inclined to now treat myself to an afternoon of "laziness" is the fact that it's been raining all day, so the first half of my ride was outdoors in the cold, wind and mud, coupled with a flat tyre, a reluctant, frustrating, but eventually successful tyre change, the remaining half of my ride indoors on the wind trainer and then a solid, but again, wet and cold run along the seawall. Le piece de resistance was finishing up my run stuck at the traffic lights on Denman Street. The events that unfolded resulted in me having to run an extra 10 minutes ... up a hill. EW.

Anyway, I'm standing at the lights and along comes what I can only assume was a Serbian tennis coach (okay, so he had an accent and he was wearing a white zip jacket and matching white, 3/4 pants) who clearly doesn't know about the iPod rule. Crazy Serbian tennis coach man (aka Novak) strikes up a conversation with me as I'm desperately trying to stretch in peace. Here's a tip, Novak. When someone has an iPod in and they're wearing sunglasses on arguably the most overcast day of the year (we're a week into summer), they do not want to speak to you (mind you, I also had bike grease all over my hands and I'm pretty sure I smelled distinctly like I'd just done six consecutive hours of exercise, so I have no idea why he wanted to speak to me either). Also, it's incredibly hard to decipher your accent when I'm almost delirious, having just seen a two-headed man walking along the seawall (the two-headed man turned out to be a normal man with one head and a baby strapped to his back). So Novak presses on despite my awkward attempts to ignore his questioning. "Dat's good streitch-ing", he says (what do you even say to that? "Yeah, I'm awesome at stretching"?). "Thanks", I say. "Vut uch-schent is dat?" (yes, I promise it wasn't Arnold Schwarzenegger)."Australian". "Oh, Auztraliyun... [pause]... do you know Mel Gibsshon?" (seriously? Mel Gibson is the first person he thinks of?). "Yes, but not personally", I respond. 

"Vy nut?"

I have no idea Novak. I have absolutely no idea why I do not know Mel Gibson personally. 

And that's when I had to keep running ... for ten minutes ... up the hill and far, far away. After I'd just finished six hours of exercise. All I can say is that damn ten minutes better come in handy in two weeks' time. And if it does, I will forever be indebted to Novak, the friendly scary, Serbian tennis instructor.

So I'm not normally one to talk too much about my training. Mainly because I spend enough time doing it I don't really want to talk about it, but also because I don't want to be one of those annoying people who constantly drivels about how much training they're doing, not realising that no one else cares.

Having said this, I was feeling bad because I hadn't blogged in a while and, to be honest, training is pretty much all we've been doing. Also, my encounter with Novak was, clearly, a memory I'd like to cherish, so into the blog it must go.

I guess I should also explain that it was Canada Day yesterday, and today is a public holiday which is why it's Monday and I've spent pretty much the whole day training. I put it off a little this weekend anyway - partly because of the rain, partly because of me being pretty tired and honestly over it and partly because we got hooked on Season 5 of Mad Men and decided it was only right we should watch the entire season over the course of the weekend. Challenge accepted and accomplished!

Happy Canada Day! (Steven bought me these cute little patriotic cupcakes .. sadly, the flag was not edible... notice the tiny little maple leaf sprinkles - very impressive)

We've both been pretty good lately though I must say. Although training this weekend meant we couldn't go away with some of our friends to a lake house in Vernon for the long weekend (so jealous, it looked amazing), we managed to get some solid training in, do a little bit of socialising (with both our Australian-Canadian friends and our Canadian-Canadian friends - yes, we have some now!) and take in what I can only describe as the most bizarre and/or lame parade I have had the misfortune of witnessing.

The Canada Day parade (#canadafail) - my heart actually skipped a beat with delight when I realized it was over. Talk about bizarre and boring. Picture three different "Glee Club" wannabe groups, a bunch of those weirdo medieval club freaks carrying jousting sticks, some cheerleaders, lots of scary looking pandas (um... last time I checked pandas were Chinese...), some Ukranians, some Chinese, a few Koreans, a recycling truck (yes, a RECYCLING truck), a bus  (just a normal, good ol', city bus) and Darth Vader and a few storm troopers .... and that was the Canada Day parade. Now please, tell me how any of those things, in any way, represent Canada ... 

Storm troopers parading ... so Canadian right now ...

Told you there was a recycling truck ...

One of the numerous freaky pandas

The bus. I couldn't even make this up if I tried!

Exactly what it looks like - an old man, on a mobility device, singing a song ... it wasn't "Oh Canada" either...

To be honest, though, I wasn't really sure what I was expecting. Celine Deon? Nickleback? Justin Beiber? Alanis Morissette? The girl that sings that "Call Me Maybe" song? All of the above on a massive float, singing the Canadian national anthem? The whole, damaging experience was topped off with our wander down to the food trucks to sample some of the tasty local street food (surely, this would cheer me up?), my purchasing of a burrito, and then said burrito proceeding to drip its stinky hot sauce all down my arm and into my jacket. Perfect! Clearly, God was punishing me for eating a burrito when I should've been having salad, or something equally as boring. So I spent the remainder of the afternoon in a terrible mood with my left arm hanging beside me in this stiff 45 degree angle which, as it turned out, was the position in which the least amount of soggy, burritoey sweater and jacket touched my arm. GROSS.

I actually felt pretty sorry for Steven (I do, most of the time - he has to put up with this!), because I then wandered off into a rant about how I don't even like parades and I don't understand why so many people just LOVE parades. I mean, I kind of understand why kids like them. Well, kids and teenage Asian girls. But adults? We even had one lady try and yell at us when we'd finally had enough and decided to hightail it across the street.. "excuuuuuse me. sit down!", she screamed at us ... "we can't seeeeeeeee". Clearly she was one of these weirdo parade-loving adults .... or, more accurately, she just enjoyed staring at ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. Obviously I'm not someone who's just going to run across a street in the middle of a float - that's something else I didn't mention - the "floats" were so few and far between we had to wait a good 5 - 8 minutes for the next one to come along. Perhaps she was just angry because she'd stupidly told her children she'd bring them to this ridiculous event and she secretly wanted to be running across the street and off to the safety and normalcy of the food trucks too.

Anyway, my ranting must have taken it out of poor Steven, because when I woke up this morning he was on the couch, having risen at 5 am to watch 'Le Tour', fast asleep with the sleeping bag wrapped across himself, kind of 'one shoulder evening gown, hare krishna' style. Hilarious, and looking so peaceful. We finished up watching the rest of the stage - for inspiration - which I totally used when I 'Mark Cavendished' his butt riding up one of the hills on the way home from our road ride out to Horseshoe Bay later in the day. 

So, unfortunately, that's about where things stand right now. Not much going on, just lots of training and less than inspiring weather. Coming up over the next few weeks we've got Steven's next Olympic distance triathlon in Kitsilano (next week), my half Ironman (the week after) in Lake Stevens, Washington, and then a few more weeks of solid training before Steven and Dave take on Ironman Canada in Penticton, BC. Next time, I promise less ranting and raving (okay, I won't promise, but I'll try) and hopefully some more exciting photos and updates on our travel plans for the remainder of the year ... 

A couple of pics from our recent hiking adventure to Jug Island ... 

The team trekking through the "treacherous" forest.

Steven and Dave pose with their "cougar sticks"

Some of the views ... I wasn't lying about the less than impressive weather lately either!

Jug Island - we made it!

Ben and Shiloh - fellow hikers and our token Canadian friends

Dave hydrates after our exhausting hike (ahem ... it was about 5 km in total)

And a couple from our very short visit to Vancouver Island for the Victoria triathlon ... 

Lunch on a lovely day (notice this is on the Island and not in Vancouver!) at a local winery

The vineyard - at Church & State

Church & State - our lunch spot & home of some delicious wine (for opening after my race!).

Until next time! 

xx

The most expensive PowerBar I never ate.

I’ve just arrived home from grocery shopping, only to be welcomed into a mini Activ – a random Ministry of Sound album playing and the soothing whirrs of the wind-trainer. Surprisingly, it’s a lovely day outside – great road riding conditions - but due to sickness and mild injuries we’re playing it safe for another day or two.

Oh, and while I’m thinking of the lovely weather, I am also irrationally excited about today being the first day of our local West End farmer’s markets for the year (and yes, I’ve already walked up the road to sample the local produce!). Summer (the season, not the niece) is fast approaching and I’m just a little bit excited (although, I’m quite sure I’m not as excited as my moon tan is)!

So. Back to sickness. We’ve been a household of sickness and general misery for a total of four weeks now. I must confess I’ve contributed about three of those four weeks (and all the misery) – first with a recurring cold and then with a sinus infection – boo hiss.  In fact, it’s still hanging around and all this prolonged incarceration is driving me slightly stir crazy.  In fact, I feel a bit sorry for poor Steven having to put up with my mopey-ness, but then I go over to give him a kiss on the wind-trainer and he’s radiating homeless man smell after multiple hours on the bike so we’re even. As much hate as I have for it at the moment, sickness did give me a great opportunity to wrap myself up like a burrito in my trusty sleeping bag and watch a Giuliana & Bill marathon on E! for an entire day without feeling even slightly guilty.   

We are drug lords. Downtown Eastside eat your heart out!

A good 'ol daily dose of ... every pill imaginable.

While afflicted with our killer Canadian colds, we also took the opportunity to spend one Saturday morning actually doing what ‘normal people’* do - we grabbed some coffees (okay… so I grabbed a cookie crumble mocha frappuccino) and went for a leisurely morning stroll around Stanley Park and the seawall.  We also took some pleasure in watching all the suckers who were running (and then felt guilty because that’s what we should’ve been doing). I really think these ‘normal people’ are on to something though.   Anyway, I’ve become a total germaphobe now and I’ve started giving strangers the stink-eye if they cough within 50 metres of me. I’ve also caught myself exaggerating my reactions to stranger’s coughs and general sounds of unwellness by using a stink-eye slash jumper over the mouth and nose combo, which seems to get my point across rather well. 

Local squirrel chowing down on something I'm sure he thought was tasty.

A view from our wander through Stanley Park.

Ducklings chilling in the Lost Lagoon.

Our pretty city.

Last weekend we headed off to Vancouver Island for what was supposed to be our first training race at Shawnigan Lake - Steven; the half ironman, Dave; the Olympic distance and me; the sprint. On Friday morning before we left Steve had already decided he was going to pull out of the race (due to sickness) so we never even took his bike with us. I was still feeling confident I would be fine and Dave (who, incidentally, had also been afflicted with the killer Canadian cold) was still keen too. So, we packed up our gear and headed over to Nanaimo on the ferry. 

What up Backstreet Boys! ... hmm there's one missing...

A view from the ferry ride to Nanaimo.

Ferry sunset.

Shawnigan Lake is a tiny community so accommodation options were scarce and as a result we ended up finding a great place to stay in Cowichan Bay – about a 20 minute drive away. Both communities were gorgeous and the people were incredibly friendly. Within 10 minutes of wandering around on Saturday morning Dave B, Steve and I were already looking at real estate. We browsed the town for a little longer and stalked a seal in the bay, like the nerdy tourists we are. 

The view of the bay from our hotel room.

Going in to check out the local bakery - it smelled so good - even with a cold!

Steve and Dave B. discuss local real estate ... or perhaps which cheeses to buy.

Some local scenery.

The boys have a completely platonic cuddle.

The seal we stalked - totally posing for us under the water.

Later in the day we made our way to register for the race and, of course, having already paid the non-refundable registration fees, we all signed up and received our goody bags which contained 4 or 5 pamphlets, a race t-shirt that was WAY too small (yep, I was seriously regretting that cookie crumble mocha frappuccino), and a PowerBar. Amusingly, the lady who was helping Steven with his registration made a comment about his accent sounding Australian … and when he confirmed this was, indeed, true, she responded with “thank you!” and became all flustered and giggly. Steven Wehlow: ladies’ man. When he’d finished gloating, we all headed off to transition so Dave and I could rack our bikes. 

Dave - why are you squatting? The boys discuss Sunday's race.

Goggle testing.

Dave racks his bike.

Saturday afternoon we made our way to a local cidery and spent our time sipping samplers and eating delicious lunches. In fact, the whole area reminded me a lot of Margaret River in WA, which is still one of the best places I’ve ever visited. After lunch we headed back for a nap (I was starting to really struggle by this stage), only to be woken up about 30 minutes later by who I thought was Suze screaming as she was pushed into the lake just outside our hotel. I later found out this rather feminine scream was actually Dave B. Awesome. The group then spent the rest of the afternoon kayaking in Cowichan Bay, which was gorgeous. It would’ve been ever better if I was actually feeling well, but we had a great time nonetheless. Saturday evening was a shocker for me and I knew I wouldn’t be well enough to race on the Sunday. After a last minute email to the coach for confirmation (and my own peace of mind), I decided it was better to pull out and save myself more sickness. In hindsight it was the best decision because I ended up having to get antibiotics when we got back home. 

Although it looks like I should be reading something, I'm actually just trying to keep my head as still as possible. Stupid sinus infection.

Cider sampler.

The team kayaks in Cowichan Bay.

Kayaking champions (once we worked out the reason we weren't moving anywhere was because Dave had put our rudder up!)

Steven Wehlow: ladies' man AND king of kayaking.

Local wildlife hanging out.

Sunday morning we made our way back to Shawnigan Lake to watch Dave (now the lone soldier) take part in the Olympic distance tri. We had fun cheering him on, but I think Steve and Dave B had more fun eating from the local community food truck that was stationed at the expo. In fact, while trying to justify his choice of breakfast, Steven coined what I like to call 'quote of the weekend', stating: “pancakes are healthy because they’re so light and fluffy”. I struggled with the urge to double over in laughter and give him the Marge Simpson grumble. In the end, I decided on the ‘scoff in disbelief’ with a giggle on the side, because his comment was akin to that which he coined back in 2010 – “I feel like eating something light … like Chinese”.  This is a quote I use frequently. 

Sunday morning - race time!

Finishing chute.

Sicko having a sook about being sick and not racing.

Dave B, are you wearing chick's sunnies? (!!)

Hi Dave! We see you!

Smashed the swim!

Finishing chute & a high five from Suze!

After the race we packed up and went to enjoy another delicious lunch at a local winery (and made a few purchases for toasting success AFTER our races!) before traveling back to Nanaimo to catch the return ferry.  Despite the sickness, and having to spend the entire weekend in a car with two wiggas, white-boy rapping to Kanye West et cetera (Rapstar eat your heart out!), I thoroughly enjoyed our little local getaway and its safe to say Vancouver Island delivered, yet again. 

Local home made fresh baked pies - rhubarb, raspberry, blackberry, blueberry & apple - delicious

Local wildlife (how cute are the goslings!) at Cherry Point Estate Winery.

Suze & Brendan - wining & dining!

So clearly, after skimming the above essay-length blog entry (and I applaud you) to no avail, the question you’re dying to ask is “Why didn’t you eat the Powerbar?” (No?). Well, if you’re interested, it was peanut butter flavour. EEW!

Until next time …

xx

* ‘Normal people’: people who are not training for a sporting event.