Francie Van Wirkus's Blog, page 39
September 26, 2013
September 16, 2013
We need each other! We were not created to do it alone. Sr....
We need each other! We were not created to do it alone. Sr. Madonna Buder & Chrissie Wellington.
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September 12, 2013
September 5, 2013
Francie Van Wirkus has a new post!
New Post has been published on http://francievanwirkus.com/?p=87
Welcome!
Welcome to the Francie Van Wirkus blog page. This initial post is to test out functionality between this website and Francie’s Tumblr page.
August 29, 2013
August 15, 2013
Making (Bike) Love
On giving back, and bike love…an excerpt from The Competitor in Me, available on e-readers everywhere.
One day, I was making dinner for my daughters and I when my husband’s friend stopped by and told me he had a surprise for me. For me? Why me? I hardly knew him! His kind words of encouragement for my new goals lifted me up. He saw a part of me that was not a mommy or an office worker. He thought of me as an athlete, as a competitor deserving of this fantastic bike. It was weird and uplifting all at once.
The girls were more excited than I was. He pulled out a blue 10-speed bike from his trunk. It was a vintage Schwinn Paramount, with Campagnolo components. Translation: a very high-end bike in its time, now still light years ahead of my Schwinn World Sport that I’d had since college. He said he knew I was getting into triathlons and felt I needed a better bike. A kind way of telling me it was time to ride like a big girl.
The Paramount was a gift to me and if I ever wanted to sell it to call him first. You see, this friend of ours hung out with cyclists at a bike track and out on the road. A good riding friend of his died a few weeks ago. The friend owned several bikes, so his widow kindly gave each biking friend a few bikes. I was now the happy owner of one of the Dead Guy Bikes.
My friend said the bike was in beautiful shape, that it only needed a good cleaning, so I took it to a shop. The worker at the bike store looked ecstatic when I wheeled the bike over to him.
“Where did you get this?” he asked.
“From a dead guy.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Nice guy.” He handled the bike as if it were made of gold instead of steel.
“Yes. I would like to ride it. If it fits me. Can you help me clean it and tune it up?”
“Love to. This is a fantastic bike. And I think it will fit you.” His admiration for my bike made me feel even luckier than the day I received it! Beyond lucky, I felt like a bit of a She Beast-girl stud. This was going to be something special.
August 7, 2013
2013 Ironman Texas Retrospective
May is a perfect time for a long training day in Texas, right? In the two weeks before the race, the weather looked great; upper 70s and 80s. Then, Temperature Creep happened, as is what happens at many Ironman Wisconsin races. After a week of upper 70s, temps creeped up into the upper 80s. The day before the race, it was 94, and race day had a forecast of 96F. Also, please note the term “shade” is used loosely in my story, as the trees there don’t offer much in the way of it. That picture on the Ironman Texas website of riding in the shade of a forest had to be doctored.
The swim start was a mass start in the water with 2700 people. We had the gift of cloud cover, even if the humidity was 88%. The pros begin at 6:50 a.m. and the rest of us at 7:00 a.m. The water was 77F, so no wetsuits allowed. Well, you could wear a wetsuit but then you couldn’t qualify for age group awards. Wetsuit people did get to start the race at 7:10. I did not wear a wetsuit. Elise let me use one of her fastskins from swimming, so I wore that over my tri kit.
Lake Woodlands is very green; it was like swimming in green tea, only much murkier. You couldn’t really see someone in front of you, but you could feel their current. I was very proud I didn’t panic, and just plowed through those first nerve-racking 15 mins after the start. In fact, I loved the first part of the swim!
The final 800 meters or so of the swim is up a channel to the transition area (T1). Fans lined the paths on both sides of the channel, but it’s not nearly as crazy as Ironman WI (IMWI). This channel is where things got really rough. Wacked in the head a few times, pushed into a rock (that left a mark), and a bunch of other kicks and just nowhere to swim. It was very narrow and the water was churned from all the thrashing. I hated every moment of it and was just hanging on. I dug deep into my mental toughness…this isn’t that bad! You made it this far, just a little more! Don’t let that whack in the head stop you! This is way easier than cancer! I probably wasted at least five to eight minutes in that last 800 meters. What a glorious moment it was to climb the steps out of the murky green tea with a 1:29. A very slow time for my standards, but I didn’t care. That channel was the worst!
T1 was outside, so you get full of grass. I thought it strange that most people out of the water with me were walking. I scurried onto my bike.
Riding was beautiful. Taking time to be present with the horse farms and the fields was a respite after the swim pummeling. I love horses, so I admired every one. The bright flowers along the road shouted out, summer starts early in Texas! The roads were so smooth compared to here, with less cracks and bumps. The first half was fast and fun. There weren’t many fans out on the course. It was so very hot and windy…were they all inside having sweet tea? The only shade was in Sam Houston National Forest. It was still rather sparse, as the trees are just not as dense as those in Wisconsin or other states.
IMTX improvement opportunity: the bike special needs people. Normally, races have a spotter up the road call your number down by your bag, and then a volunteer gives it to you. In TX, not so much. I had to stop, get off my bike, and go get my bag. How to hold my bike so my drinks don’t spill while reaching to get my bag….waste! I used my sunscreen in my special needs bag for its original purpose and also for chamois cream. Forgot to do that in transition. Yick.
Mile 60, we began heading back to The Woodlands, and things got hard. I was fighting chills since mile 40. After the special needs stop, I reasoned that actually stopping at the next few water stops might be the way to keep from imploding from the heat. I was making good time, so I could afford to spend a few minutes over the next 50 miles.
I stuck to my nutrition plan, and was able to get everything down. I drank as much water as I could and ate salt pills. When the chills fired up, I dumped lots of water on me, too.
My fight with overheating became an all-out battle at about mile 90. This is where it gets hard. Ironman hard. I was getting clumsy shifting, dropping my chain a few times, the chills were there more than they were not, and I felt nauseous. All of this was a first, but I knew what to do because I planned for heat. I needed to adjust right then if I was going to get off this bike without crashing it! Well, there goes my bike PR (personal record). I want to finish more than I want a PR.
The last 17 miles of the ride, I stopped three times in meager shade to get more water. One athlete was in desperate shape and ran out of salt pills, so I gave him some of my extras.
With just three miles left of the bike, I had to stop or crash. I found a shady spot by a Sheriff and three men with him. What a ridiculous thing to have to do! So close and yet if I didn’t stop, I might crash. They didn’t look busy so I took a chance. They had cold water, yes! The one guy poured it on me my while the other held my bike. I waited about five minutes to just regroup. Three miles. I can do this… Final time was 6:38. At this point, who cares? I made it!
Normally, I run to transition but not today. More like a calculated walk to make sure I didn’t trip. One spectator shouted at me to take my helmet off and stop cooking myself while walking. Good point, if I knew I had a head attached to my body.
For maybe eight minutes, I sat completely destroyed in the transition tent. With ice and water, I contemplated my next move. This was one of those defining moments of character. My friend Deborah Carey of Team Growth 365 pushes us to use our energy for solutions, not blame. It was hot and humid and windy for everyone. My next move came down to one word: finish. Ice in my top, I headed out to the run. I love running. I got this.
First time ever: walking the start of an Ironman marathon. Capitalize on it, right? Drink, eat, collect my focus. I assessed what was left of my mental focus: what was in the way of me and the finish line? There was one thing: family worrying about me. So typical of a Mom, you think? Easy solution: I asked a guy in the crowd to call Lauren and tell her I am okay, but walking right now and will be behind schedule. Lauren was at North Shore Park hanging with the LuLu Lemon party zone. Next, I asked a different guy to call Joe and tell him the same. There, now no one needs to worry. I can stop worrying about them and focus on my one word. Finish.
I met Ernesto from Argentina. We walked and then ran/walked several miles together. Teamwork at a time like this is really spectacular. By the time Ernesto and I parted, I was perking up a bit. I no longer felt nauseous, and my head seemed a little less foggy. I sipped Coke once in a while. Water, ice, lots and lots of chicken broth, pretzels, GUChomps.
We met Lauren at North Shore Park. She was all jazzed and great. As instructed the day before, she asked me about salt pills. No, I hadn’t taken them. Thank you for asking! She met Ernesto and we walked and jogged with her for maybe five minutes.
Then I met Tobias (Toby) from the Houston area. He rode a 5:20 bike and then had massive leg cramps on the run. He had his sights set on Kona, and now had to adjust, too. He was on his second loop. We ran the next one and a half loops together. Great philosophical discussions ensued! We set goals to run over and over, and were successful. “Run to that tree up there.”
We saw Lauren at the park again. She met Toby and repeated her salt pills question. No, I hadn’t taken them. Thank you! She ran/walked with us a bit and then we rolled on. We ran through a fun music zone with Speedo clad 20 something men. One of them slapped my rear end as I passed through. Well, that woke me up. Also, I met Toby’s South Coast Tri team members they were great at pumping us up. Then Toby finished at 13hr 29min. I didn’t like leaving him, but I was very proud of him. We did great work together, and remain connected to encourage each other.
I had one loop to go! It was getting dark, so the sun was releasing us from its grip. Some of the bike paths were really dark, so I tried to be extra cautious about not tripping. As if I really could keep that from happening. My right shoe was too tight. I think I’m going to lose a toenail…
Then I met 28 year old Jeffrey, who happened to be friends with Toby. We ran/ walked the last loop together. It was his first Ironman. Lauren thought he was really cute. It was great to see her for the third time at the park. Say yes to salt pills! Until this point, I didn’t think I was doing anything that special. Then there were these people cheering us on, and they reminded me that I was doing something extraordinary. Half-running the marathon didn’t really feel that spectacular. Slowly, I was allowing the awesomeness to enter my psyche, just like John Hulsey would do. This was awesome! This was really hard, and I was nailing it my way.
It wouldn’t be my best time. It wouldn’t look good on the books. It would be the deepest I’ve dug on a bike course. And, it became spectacular when speaking of tenacity and patience.
With just three miles to go, Jeffrey said he couldn’t run anymore, so I left him. After mile 24, Jeffrey was in front of me somehow. I tried to catch up to him, but couldn’t make my legs work and faster than they were. Then, that glorious mile 25 had arrived. Praise God! I was almost done with this thing. You can hear Mike Reilly, the voice of Ironman, and it makes you all crazy inside. Every yucky moment of training, of the day, is lost in that amazing moment of accomplishment. Nothing else matters but seeing those bright lights, and hearing Mike Reilly. With just 300 meters to go, Jeffrey is still ahead of me, now walking. I come up to him, “come on, let’s do this Jeffrey!” He couldn’t. I had to leave him and go after my one word: finish.
Finishing at 14:39 was fantastic. I didn’t think about cancer, about any other worry, other that incredible moment of accomplishment. This is why I keep coming back. Even if it’s a push-pull-or-drag day. I keep coming back.
July 22, 2013
It wouldn’t be summer in our house without competing in the ‘ole...
Racine, Wisconsin USA
Practice swim in Kailua-Kona, Hawaii.
It wouldn’t be summer in our house without competing in the ‘ole Racine Ironman 70.3. A half ironman is just that: 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike ride, and a 13.1 mile run. If you’ve read my book series, The Competitor in Me, you know this race and I have a long, tumultuous history together. We might even deserve each other.
This year, the weather was going to be great; mostly sunny with a high of 79F, and mild wind. So why was Lake Michigan churning like a tempest? I’m sure my local weather friend Craig Koplein would have a good explanation for it.
Walking down the beach to the start with my friend Hannah, we noticed the waves. They didn’t look too bad, so we thought. By the time we arrived at the swim start, the surf was definitely up! This Wisconsin girl has only one experience with waves this big, so I was a little rattled trying to warm up in them. I use the term warm up loosely, as the water was 66F. We might have hills in Wisconsin, but our swims are usually flat. Last October, I braved the swells at a practice swim in Kailua-Kona, Hawai`i, with my daughter Elise. That was a challenge for me and Elise, but we made it.
Hannah was so good at keeping me calm while we waited for our wave to start. The doubt demons were right there, just waiting to pounce. Drawing on my strength, I knew this was way more fun than going to follow up at the cancer center last week. Yes, I could do this! I am a beast. Our wave went off into the waves, and I was thinking no, I am not a beast. The doubt demons made a full-on assault and I was feeling it. I do not like this. I don’t need to do this. The swim goes straight out from the beach about 100 meters before turning to go parallel to the shore for most of the 1.2 miles. I decided I wanted to do this, even if I don’t need to do this. I believed if I could just get to the turn, things would be better once I was swimming parallel to the shore. I swam-gasped my way out to that red turn buoy.
I made it around the turn! But things were definitely not better. The waves were huge and my confidence was small. What was up with this lake? It took me about five minutes more to get swimming. I did a quick review: what were my problems right then? Could I swim? Yes. Could I breathe? Yes. Was I getting pummeled by people like in Ironman Texas? No. Things were really not that bad. I was just uncomfortable getting thrown around. So I got comfortable being uncomfortable. I will not quit. That swim I did with Elise helped me so much. I kept saying to myself “this is just like Kona…just like Kona…” I also thought of my fitness friends. There was no way I was going to tell Jerome, Greg, Sheila, Kesha, Natalie, or Toby that I quit because I was scared. I could almost hear Parker saying “this is cake.”
Halfway through the swim, a calf cramp hit hard. I swam to one of the lifeguard floaties and tried to work it out for a few moments. It didn’t go away, but it improved, so I swam the rest of the way with an occasional kick from that leg. That calf cramp reasserted its authority in the final 150 meters, causing me to do most creative swimming ever. Gimping out of the water was such a happy moment. I did it! It took forever, over 45 minutes, but I didn’t care. Swimming in crazy water like that, I had to adjust my expectations of having a race PR (personal record).
Beginning the bike course, I was so happy to be out of the water that the miles ticked by. Rookie mistake: dropped my salt pills in the second mile. Whatever effects that swim had on me, I wasn’t aware of them. Until I started to eat. Riding with a mouthful of Clif bar, I was challenged to swallow it. My stomach was definitely…off. Perhaps being tossed around in the water was to blame? Eating took more work, but I managed to do it.
There were crashes and flats, but fortunately I wasn’t a part of them. There are many turns on the course that take patience. Settling in for the ride, I took in all that summer in Wisconsin had to offer. July’s sweet perfume of wildflowers was intoxicating at times. Horses and crickets folded into the scene. I loved every moment of the fresh air in my face and the sunshine on my back. I had a solid ride averaging 19mph and felt good going onto the run.
Joe had a super day and just killed the run. He was very happy I didn’t pull the plug on the swim.
I ran the entire run course, planning a slow burn and then pick it up at mile nine, if I could. The sun was out and the lake was sparkling. You’d never imagine so much mayhem occurred there just a short time ago. Later, I learned many people did not finish their day because of the wrath of Lake Michigan. Now, the lake added to a beautiful vista for part of the run course. Other parts had that sweet wildflower smell of summer. This summer day did not get away from me, not one moment. Tomorrow, I would be sitting at a desk just looking at the sunshine. I couldn’t get off the course without two stops in a blue hut. There went my running PR, too. I was too tickled to be out of Lake Michigan to care about that, either.
The plan to go steady and then pick it up at mile nine worked. This is an improvement for me, because in past races, even ones I have finished faster, I felt like I had just one gear. I’m going to keep working on this in the off season.
Coach and pro triathlete Heather Haviland had the notion to seize the day as well. As usual, her P3 coaching group had a motivation zone out on the run course. It was great to see her and her pals four times. The last time I saw her, she knew I was less than two miles to the finish, she shouted “Celebrate your life, Girl!” Tears came to my eyes and I nearly started crying while running. A good coach knows how to hit the heart. I have tears right now…
Finishing was great. It always is! Yet that day, I felt far more accomplished coming out of Lake Michigan than I did for finishing the race. Mostly, I felt accomplished for celebrating my life.
July 13, 2013
Letting Go: Minivans & Mongolia
Letting go, whether we choose it or we are forced into it, can yield incredible experiences. We hold ourselves captive from so many things, like trying something new, forgiving someone, maybe changing jobs or moving for a better life. Once we free ourselves from this captive state, there is opportunity all around.
In the memoir Sihpromatum I Grew my Boobs in China, then 14 year-old Savannah Grace is taken from her comfortable, Canadian teenage life and thrust into a backpacking trip around the world with her family. Savannah had to let go of all things familiar. It took time, and it wasn’t without pain that she did it, but once she let go, an entire new world literally opened up for her.
In her first few months traveling, Savannah and her family had their share of hardship. Having your minivan break down in Mongolia is definitely rotten luck. Out of this experience, she learned the people of this harsh region of the world had to rely on each other, far more than her native Canada. They were the most hospitable strangers she ever met. Here she and her family were complete strangers to the Mongolians they met, and yet they were offered food, and assistance with their broken down minivan. In letting go to trust these helpful souls, Savannah learned the closest translation to “stranger” in Mongolian is probably something like “friends that haven’t met.”
By the end of their journey in Mongolia, Savannah’s resistance to leaving her Canadian home turned into an openness to experience new adventures. Their next stop was Russia, and she was chomping at the bit to get there. It helped to have an upbeat mother and well-traveled older brother, but they couldn’t let go for Savannah. Letting go to fold into her family’s adventure was definitely a journey she had to take on her own.
Maybe not in the most literal sense, you too can find a new world for yourself by letting go. Believe that you have it all within you to courageously let go of whatever is holding you back.
