The Great Dane

Out on a run from our campground in Dripping Springs State Park this morning, a couple of neighbourhood dogs ran out to join me… play with me, rather. One was a chocolate Lab the other a beautiful black Great Dane with the warmest amber eyes I’ve ever seen. Maybe it was their setting against sleek black that made then stand out so.

The Lab lost interest quickly, but the Dane seemed to have found a new best buddy in me. He ran circles around me trying to get me to stop and play. He ran up beside me, a stride ahead, and threw his shoulder into my thigh. He jumped up and down and tugged on my hands. Big dog like that can trip you up pretty easy, I discovered, but I didn’t mind. It was nice having the company.

This dog ran with me two miles back to the campground, and once there, stayed within 50 yards of me. When near me, he stood leaning against my thigh. When I disappeared into the showers, he was waiting when I came out. Me and the Great Dane, best of buddies at first sight. A Dane would be such a cool dog to have, as big as they are, however, Barry (our gRAAM road trip guest) pointed out that they are heartbreakers and always at the vet’s office. Due to their size they have too many genetic issues and often don’t live very long.

As we were packing up and getting ready to roll, Gordo said the dog had to go otherwise he’d follow them when they started running. I had to laugh, the dog was standing in front of me while I was rubbing his ears. Gordo was standing in front of me telling the dog to go. And that big dog, he just moved around behind me and “hid” from Gordo. I loved that dog!

Unfortunately, the dog did follow Gordo on his run. I was to meet the guys 15K out for an aid station stop then at the end of their run another 15K down the road. The road was narrow and winding, and there weren’t many safe places to pull a big truck and travel trailer over. I stopped just past 12K out to wait.

Sitting in the truck looking in my side mirror with rain pouring, I saw Gordo come around the corner, and then, what? I saw the Great Dane dragging himself along behind. I couldn’t believe that he followed Gordo all that way! That was more than six miles of running and this poor dog was foaming at the mouth and limping. Gordo said that he tried to tie him up twice and both times he broke free.

I hung back with the Dane until Gordo was out of sight, and gave him some much needed water. I felt horrible that I didn’t hang back at the campground with him until the guys were long gone. Would have saved him the stress of that long run –- and the long walk back home, wherever that was.

As I hopped in the truck to leave, he looked up at me with those big amber eyes saying, “Hey, where are you going? Don’t leave me.” Not that I’m out to kidnap other people’s pets, but, I really wanted to take him with me. I hope he made it home okay.

1 May 2004

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I'm Excited!

It has been a while since I’ve been excited about training, as my coach, Gordo, will attest. According to him, I haven’t been excited since November. I tend to disagree there. I have had many exciting moments since then, however, overall I suppose he’s right. Except I think I stopped having fun at the end of December. A moot point at this stage.

I hit a period late last year, leading into early this year, where I was training tired. I was just trying to make it through to my Ironman race in March so I could take a break. In a recent conversation, he said that it has been a while, in his view, since I’ve enjoyed my training. I was surprised that he thought it had been so long that I had been training without any joy in it. I pointed out the trail running I did in New Zealand with Lisa, the long rides I did with Lisa and Neva. I pointed out the big weekend riding out to Hanmer Springs and back, and every Masters session at QEII with Roly on deck. What stood out as most enjoyable was the crazy trail running – it was exciting.

“That’s it!” Gordo said, “You need to find the excitement in your Ironman training again. You do this for fun and if it’s not fun anymore, maybe there is another path.”

He’s all too familiar with athletes training past the fun of it and drilling themselves to compete. They get there, they race, and then they walk away from the sport forever. He doesn’t want to see me burn myself out on it – I don’t either – doesn’t want me to force myself to train, and just wants to make sure that I keep doing it because its still fun for me. I honestly don’t believe I ever will stop Ironman. I love it too much – the training, the people, the events... the whole lifestyle. I just needed a little chill-out time to get myself aligned again.

Part of it, perhaps, has been living in Gordoworld for so long – especially in close quarters on the gRAAM road trip for the last ten weeks. It’s a highly inspiring world, however, pendulums are known to make huge swings both directions. It had been getting a little difficult to keep myself in perspective when day-in day-out I’m surrounded by elite athletes. I’m a long way from elite and a long way from the ability to train the way they do. It’s hard not to compare yourself to that when you’re subjected to it 24/7. The way they live and train becomes the “norm” and I started feeling like a “failure” for not being able to train the way they do. If I take myself out of the elite world and into the world of the “average person”, suddenly I’m a guru of fitness and good health.

At the beginning of the trip I had just come off IMNZ and have basically been traveling ever since. I told Gordo I just wanted to enjoy my training for a while. I didn’t want to have to focus on holding ‘X’ pace for ‘Y’ duration. I just wanted to ride. It was starting to feel too often like a chore. My mind needed a little more time to come back around. Once we took out the workout goals, I started to enjoy my training. I had some great rides across the country – most notable being in Texas, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Tennessee.

Just as I began to enjoy training again and get the desire back, the realities of the road began to wear me down. My training volume has been well below what it should be (or where I’d like it to be, rather) with an Ironman three months away and I’ve been growing more and more concerned about that. The road trip is officially over, but I still have a couple weeks of road-tripping ahead of me before “my” road trip is officially over. I’ve been feeling quite anxious as of late to get off the road and focus on my training – quality training.

The other night Gordo and I sat down and discussed my training, my limiters and my goals for Ironman Canada in August. From our discussion, I drafted up a weekly structure to start in July that assures the most optimum training, for me, to pull it back together. Gordo approved of my structure and only tweaked the hours. My weekly structure includes six runs (one long), five rides (two long, one commuter), and four swims (one wetsuit). One day a week is in the “big day” training format, and the week rounds out at 22 hours. I’ll roll that in two-week cycles with a third week in the same structure, only slightly less volume.

This is what has me excited. I have a training plan again. I’ve been without a plan since March. I’ve been on the road since March. I’ve been in a different town almost every night. Sometimes I’ve gone a whole week without a single swim or ride. I haven’t been out for a long ride since Tennessee. I have managed to run just about everyday, but all else has been pretty hit and miss. Now, I have a training plan. A couple more weeks on the road and then I’m staying put – actually unpacking my suitcase and putting it away... far back in the closet. Two more weeks on the road and then all focus is on my training, my plan and my upcoming race goals. After formulating the plan, I immediately felt a physical lift in my spirit. I can’t wait to get settled and into a solid training routine. It’s a fantastic feeling.

So the next day I said to Gordo, “Brace yourself. I’m excited.”

28 May 2004

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Artist Am I

If nothing else, this walkabout adventure I stepped out on in 2002 has led me to one self-discovery. I am an artist. I always knew that though. I have always been an artist, drawn to the arts, seen things from a slightly different angle, awed by the simple snapshots of nature and life, and have never been too far from my sketch book.

I have made a few dollars over the years from my art work, though nothing more than to call it a hobby. I remember one of my art teachers in high school. He would say to me, “I don’t understand you. One day you turn out a masterpiece and then the next three weeks you do nothing but doodle.” He’d give assignments and I would either be into them or not. If I felt like creating something then everything went into it. If I didn’t, quite simply, I didn’t and there was no way whatsoever to get me into it. I figured it was just an artist’s trait – inspiration came when it came. In hindsight however, I would have to say that wasn’t it at all. I was a teenager trying to be rebellious and that was they only avenue I had to do it with.

Leaving high school people were constantly telling me to pursue my artwork. Go to college (Emily Carr was the esteemed art college in Vancouver), become an artist, make your living at art, and so on. With so many people telling me what to do, I put my back up and went the opposite direction. I didn’t want to do what everyone told me to do. If I wanted to pursue art, it would be my call. So I convinced myself it was just a hobby. It was like personal therapy for me to sit for hours absorbed in the flow.

Perhaps I was also afraid of it. Art is such a personal thing and my self-confidence in my early years left much to be desired. Yes I was good, but I would look at what was out there, and well, maybe I really wasn’t that good at all. To get into art schools you are required to submit a portfolio of your work. Your work is juried by a panel and you are either deemed talented enough for their school, or not. No doubt I was afraid of the “or not”.

I left my art for a while after high school, though not for long. It kept drawing me back. I started thinking of going to school – my choice this time. However, things seemed to keep getting in the way and I applied my penchant for art in other areas. I took short part-time courses in graphic arts and started my career along that path. I went from working in graphics houses to publishing my own magazines. Publishing eventually led to web design, which is where I now spend my artistic focus.

Ideas have rattled around in my head constantly over the years. I sketch thoughts and stash them away for another day. I receive the odd commissions from time to time, but I've basically stepped away from my art for several years. Recently the "need" to draw has been growing stronger and stronger. Circumstance, however, has been keeping me away from it. Out on my walkabout I’ve had no time at all to work on my art. I’ve started only one drawing and it’s still unfinished.

Last week in North Carolina I was killing some time in a Borders Bookstore. Wandering around the store without any real thought, I found myself standing in front of a tower of art books. I reached out and grabbed the first book that jumped out at me, "The Business of Being an Artist". I flipped a few pages and read the first paragraph... that was it. I am an artist. Through and through.

My walkabout has brought me full circle. I didn’t know where I wanted to be or what I wanted to do. Now I know without a doubt. I know where I want to be and I know what I want to do. I’m coming off the road in a couple of weeks – permanently – and I’m looking forward to settling in, focusing on my training, returning to school and pursuing my talents. I am as certain about this as I am about where I want to be.

I know what I’ve always known, I am an artist.

29 May 2004

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