The cue-ball and the 8-ball
Wednesday, May 31, 2006Did just over an hour of brisk running up and down the waterfront, more or less. The groin muscles were a bit tight, and my left ham and achilles were also a bit tight, but I have a feeling that will all clear up with a couple of days of training, though I will wait for the weekend before doing anything too hard. My next planned race will be the 1/2 Iron relay with Sarah Macdonald, so I will need to do a couple of long hard rides and a Tuesday night TT or two, and a mid-week training race and/or a Masters race (if there are any happening on the Island in the next couple of weeks). I will likely just run 3 times a week until the Half Iron, and then consider how to approach the 6 weeks leading to the Worlds (if I do decide to go - I've received all the forms, but have yet to fill them out and send them).
Gi.gi. (yes that's how she spells it), my favourite server at Lifestyles is quitting and travelling to South America for as many months as her money will take her. A nice young woman (too young for me), always bright and cheery. For months now she has called me Que (sort of like "cue-ball"). I'd never corrected her until today. But, I said, you can always call me Que. I like it.
I've been reading a book called "Incompleteness", a biography of mathematician Kurt Godel by Rebecca Goldstein. Godel originated his famous Incompleteness Theorem which shows the limitations on what can be proven mathematically. Apparently Godel was a strong follower of the Platonist school which says that mathematics exists independently of our experience; is an objective reality to be discovered, rather like how a cave or a new underwater form of life may be discovered.
This brought to mind the fellow at the Philosophy of Sport Conference two weeks ago who chaired my presentation, whose name now escapes me (as do most people's names tend to escape me). Over a drink with some of the conference attendees at a Cardiff pub the evening before my presentation he told me he was a "metaphysician." He explained, in not so many words, that metaphysics would encompass a Platonist approach, which I personally find compelling.
But, I thought, a metaphysician? How does one call himself a "metaphysician"? Surely there are no jobs anywhere for metaphysicians. Not that a paid position of that title ought to be the criteria for how one identifies himself, but I thought it interesting he didn't say "I have a PhD in philosophy with an emphasis on aspects of metaphysics." Obviously, this was a title he had become familiar with and no doubt he has had to defend it in the past. With that sort of conviction, the onus, I concluded, lay with me in my ignorance to learn why he would call himself that. In the end I didn't get a chance to pursue the subject with him, given the tendency for group conversations to move easily and rapidly from one topic to another.
It is interesting how people ultimately come to identify themselves. Is the requirement for what one calls him or herself only the degree of passion devoted to the calling? Does it need to be a profession and, if so, why should it? Can one seriously call himself a poet if he does not get paid for it and there is no market for poetry (taking, for the sake of argument, the position that there isn't one)?
If I go to a party in Khartoum and people ask me in Arabic, the official language of Sudan (I've just learned by a Google search), so, Hugh, please tell me, what do you do -- can I tell them I am a runner, or a duathlete - a blogger, perhaps? The English might just call me a "tosser", but how I identify myself and how others identify me are two entirely different things!
But it would be silly to call myself those things, since they would then ask: oh, so you do that full-time? You are able to make a living at it? Well, golly-gee, no... but! it's one of my "driving passions." Ok, so what if you made no money at something, but you spent all your time doing it - say you spent 12 hours a day painting - would you be a painter? How about 8 hours, or four? What's the threshold?
Ok enough for now!
31 05 06 21:38 | Hugh | 
| 
A potent cocktail
Tuesday, May 30, 2006Got down to the gym for some light weights and calisthenics, massage and stretching in the sauna. A quick bite at Lifestyles, and a purchase of some more EmergenC: "It's got magnesium, potassium, and calcium...you guys don't stand a chance," in the words of Cliffy when standing at the start line next to a bunch of hardcore Euro pro cyclists once...
I feel fairly tired and am looking forward to a solid sleep tonight.
______
III.
The Saturday in June was pure because the morning sky was cloudless, windless, and every leaf on every tree was like ripe fruit, bursting with green, longing to be plucked and measured by all the senses of every animal or insect.
From somewhere among those leaves, birds called to one another, penetrating the perfect stillness and, in the countryside, where the gypsy cyclist rode, each twittering note could be traced by a line from every bird's vocal chords to the ears of every listening being, including the gypsy cyclist, mapping a forest soaked in dew with a network of warbles and cheeps.
Out of the saddle and up a tarmac hill, marking a corridor through the echoing greens, squinting into the uplifting eastern sun, the gypsy was a single node in that cacaphonous topology, its contours fluid like the spider's web buffetted by the breeze. To reciprocate, he whistled shrilly as quick short breaths suctioned him up the steepening hill. He swore that all the birds paused to listen, if only for a moment, to triangulate the location of the one strange bird whose Doppler staccato whistle faded as he passed.
And perhaps the birds really heard him, confused by the stranger's whistle and reshaping, if even for a moment, the configuration of the network cacaphony, propagating one small ripple through the noisy landscape toward an unknowable end. How gratifying, he thought. What power.
He whistled again while cresting the hill, lurching toward a downhill and a gentle curve in the road, convinced the birds paused again to consider his whereabouts. Yes, he thought, the world is truly my oyster.
The absent gypsy
Monday, May 29, 2006Hopped the bike for a ride with Roger for about 1hr 40 mins of mostly easy riding, with a few moderate accelerations here and there. My legs were feeling a bit sore during the day at work, but feel much more limber after the ride and nicely conducive to some gentle stretching. Missed seeing Joyeux Noelle with Roger, Kerri and Fran at the Cinecenta, which would have been an interesting movie to see.
I omitted noting an important event on Saturday, which for the sake of posterity and for that future day when I'm old and grey and nodding by the fire and poring through my "blog binder" (which has yet to be created), I note now: John Crouch and Lorinda Raynor were married, and the ceremony on Saturday and the reception afterward was really fantastic. After a number of years together, it was so nice to see them formalize their commitment. John was out the next day with his brother, Phil, both looking rather bleary-eyed, watching the Bastion Square bike racing.
________
Where is the cyclist gypsy? I'm not entirely sure right now, but he seems rather in hiding, as the inspiration for recording his adventures seems momentarily on hold. Strange - there were inklings of an entire book of stories one day, and suddenly the creative well is dry! These things cannot be forced - they are either there or they are not. I'll wait for the inspiration to come another day. In the meantime, the cyclist gypsy rides on like the proverbial falling tree in a forest - his crash through through the streets and roads of the world, heard by no one.
Oak Bay half
Sunday, May 28, 2006Under slightly overcast skies and a temperature of about 12 degrees, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself in third position fairly quickly off the start of the half marathon this morning in Oak Bay (a couple of the relay runners were ahead at that point as well, of which Dave Milne, organizer, was one).
Steve Osaduik and Jim Finlayson started out slowly (by their standards) for the first kilometer with me not far behind, before they gradually wound it up and began to pull away. Surprisingly, Todd Howard was behind me (coming back from an injury I believe (?)), as was Zack Whitmarsh (a track runner who raced yesterday and was just doing a long run) and Richard Lee from Port Coquitlam. It remained that way until the finish, with Richard Lee coming in 4th about a minute and a half behind me, and Zack Whitmarsh just back of him.
With a 1:13.46 finish, a good 6 minutes back of Jim and nearly 7 back of Steve, I was about 8 seconds slower than last year, and was happy with my time and overall finish. Ordinarily I'm more concerned about my time than my finishing position, but it was nice to earn $300 for the third place finish. It was an unexpected and pleasant surprise and reward after a lot of early season disappointments for me.
Generally I felt strong and knew I could push the pace fairly soon off the start. After the first km, I tucked into a rhythm of pushing hard up the hills and relaxing on the descents and then pushing on the flats. 5km split: 16.54; 10km 34:10, though I'm not sure what the splits were after that, although I know I bogged down a bit between about 15 and 18, before pushing it home for the finish. I definitely had to dig in the last km or so, especially on the last climb leading to the finish. But it went by very quickly, and the perceived overall effort was less than many 10km races I've done.
It was nice to see Phil Ellis in the relay. He ran several sub-30 minute 10ks in the early 90s and I remember him well from the days when I raced in Vancouver. Obviously he isn't in his former shape, but he says he's been running, though not training seriously.
Got down later to see the Category 1,2 mens criterium in Bastion Square later, and saw some of the women's race as well. Jon Watkin and Brett Boniface from IRC hung in the pack in the men's 1/2, while the Symmetrics team dominated with Svein Tuft and Cam Evans joining hands at the finish after lapping the pack.
There was a time when Svein was an unknown up-and-comer, and I remember joining him in a two-up breakaway at the Provincial road race one year when he was just some guy no had heard of doing a suicide breakaway off the front. We both were caught after about 40km on our own, but Svein quickly went on from there to bigger and better things. Great to see how he has become such a seasoned veteren of the sport and has ridden as a professional for a number of seasons now.
____
Today, the Cyclist Gypsy takes a break while his author kicks back and watches a movie instead.
A Saturday in May
Saturday, May 27, 2006
Got out for 10k of easy running with 4 strides at race pace, longest of which was about 400m. Legs feel quite good, and will see how the Oak Bay Half Marathon goes tomorrow. I've heard that Osaduik, Finlayson, Scott Simpson, Tom Howard, and Richard Lee (Van) are doing it, who should all round out the top 5 - 6th sounds like it may be up for grabs.
_______________
The Cyclist Gypsy (cont)
II.
But the cyclist gypsy also finds occasion to linger in the company of other riders; not all of his time in the saddle is spent punctuating the wind and molding his man-machine to the contours of tarmac in the absence of human interaction. In fact he was once a racer himself and found comfort in the shifting shapes of the peloton: the arrowhead; the swirling rotations as they shifted positions like the wheels in a wind-up clock; the turbulent eddies, the splits and reintegrations, the flock-like echelons and the long lines that, in their agonizing intensity, well seemed to stretch to the crack of doom.
And how, for every pedal stroke turned within the confines of the peloton, he could sense its pulsating organic presence, born by the starting gun: how elegant and beautiful it was to breathe as a cell in the body of a living peloton. And how deep, how demoralizing, was his loss during those races when he slipped from the confines of the group, its palpable vitality proceeding without him, to struggle on his own.
But now his company is kept much differently...
...
The Cyclist Gypsy II
Friday, May 26, 2006
(no training today - barely stayed awake during a meeting at work, but here are the beginnings of the adventures of the Cyclist Gypsy. Please remember, this man is a fictional character!)
I.
The cyclist gypsy is no ordinary cyclist. Indeed, when he rides alone, wheels bearing him over winding roads, his body crouched and arms pulled in, he neither fancies himself a part of the peloton nor that he is five riders from Lance Armstrong up the Col du Galibier in France, the highest climb in the Tour, willing the whole form of his man-machine upward, dismissing the cries of every cell in his body that beg him to stop; narrowing to a point his perception of all the shouting spectators and, in his mind, sweeping that point aside as he says to himself "just to the next turn and then I stop" and when he gets there to repeat, "just to the next turn and then I stop".
No, he does not wish that he was a sprinter, a climber, a time-trialer; he does not wish to garner the glories of one among the professional peloton. Rather, upon that turning road that stretches through all the colors of the trees, the houses and the traffic lights and the cars that buffet him, he fancies himself in varying combinations, three things: a bull in a ring, a troubador, and sometimes Don Quijote.
When he believes that he is Quijote, he calls his bicycle Rosinante and he charges through red lights and shouts the injustices of the cars that cut him too closely and smiles at the girls as he passes them and considers, fleetingly, that he alone could rescue them from the men they no longer love.
And when he is a bull he doubts the power of the wind, of gravity; indeed he finds occasion to defy all the forces of nature, but sometimes - and only sometimes - when wearied from his hours in the saddle, he recognizes that he is taunted by them all; that collectively they are the matador who pulls aside some tempting colored cloak toward which he charges in futility. In those moments he hears the crowds cheer the toreador who slings him with one more lance, as he languishes, grows older and turns the pedals inexorably more slowly.
When he is a troubador, he sings as he rides, bringing news to imagined masses who gather round him to listen intently as he declares that the Crusades have ended; Luther has nailed his 99 theses to a door in Wittgenstein; Newton has formulated the laws of the universe, altered by Einstein, and that the war to end all wars ended in 1918. And when he sings, sometimes to the rhythm of his turning pedals or the swishing of his wheels, he believes his voice reveals the profundities of every birth and death, every thought and action that his news purveys, and that when the resonance of his melodies traverse the atmosphere in perfect waves of sound, his listeners behold the reality of the experiences he communicates.
In short, our gypsy cyclist is chock full of delusions and fantasies, and these are his adventures.
The cyclist gypsy
Thursday, May 25, 2006Despite noticing a set of tea-bags beneath my eyes, heavy as sin, and thoroughly giving myself a fright when I caught a sidewards glance of myself in a storefront window this morning, I got myself saddle-wise and spun the pedals up the waterfront for an hour or so of easy riding while entertaining myself with a variety of improvised soulful Flamenco folk songs.
Of course I don't speak Spanish, but if one repeats "ay yi yi yi chicita Lindo" over in as many different patterns as possible, one can squeeze out something that, to his own own biased ears, sounds remotely Spanish, or at the very least like a hungry and slightly feverish peasant gypsy with vocal nodes staggering across the backwoods of Andalusia.
Ah, the wonderful ways we keep ourselves sane...More sleep is required!!
Transitions
Wednesday, May 24, 2006Today every cell in my legs seemed to turn their collective glance skyward to catch my eye, calling out for a relaxing longish run. When they give me that look, I rarely argue, and gave them 1hr 25 mins of the best. And if you must, please tell my cells they reach for the deep end, not me.
Sleep last night was sparse, building upon the wild swings in my sleeping patterns the previous week. I feel tired now, and there is a mild malaise that accompanies the resumption of the regular routine after a week of travelling and the culmination of immense quantities of mental and physical energy spent in preparing for two big races in one week and a conference presentation inbetween.
An instructor from a University in the Czech Republic has emailed to say he wishes to cite my paper in his course instructions next year, but for the moment I am hesitant to respond: the transition of this Wednesday suggests to me I should wait until I have slept one more night and have awoken afresh before I reply.
For now the strains of Bjork's Aurora soothe, and when the song is complete, I shall replay it at least one more time, as this day must be captured at last by that night time traveler as she swings her bag full of stars over the rooftops and the highest leaves on trees whose sleepy branches relax in synchrony with the merest of breezes. There, through my balcony glass, as the minutes pass, I can see her arms gently outstretched and she beckons me to nestle there and frolick gently for just a moment amid a host of sparkling stars; then to curl in them softly as each one flickers in tandem to the saccades of my eyes as they loll in sleep, lighting the way to a crowd of brilliant dreams.
The road is long...
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
(skip to part "Duathlon Nationals" if this section is tear-inducingly boring)
Watching the all-comers 5000 and the
elite men's 5000 on the Uvic track this evening was so exciting it has
practically erased all memory of everything in the last ten days of my
life. All the time spent on planes, listening to sport philosophy
presentations, preparing for mine, discussing in a Cardiff pub the
vagaries of British culture among myriad other things with conference
attendees from several European countries; doing easy runs/rides in Cardiff and
while waiting for flight connections; hearing from my downtown Cardiff
hotel disturbed and incessant human howling that seemed to persist all
night long and penetrate my jet-lagged dreams, leaving me to perceive
yet more acutely the superficial nature of so much of human happiness;
driving with Lois from the airport to Cardiff and back again while
covering a vast range of subjects from Christianity to complexity
theory; seeing cousin Peter Fewings and wife Lin and his recently
published textbook on construction management, and the next night
cousin Julian Mason and wife Garyfalia; arriving in Hamilton and
renting a massive new model Chrysler because the smaller, cheaper cars
were all rented; rooming with Graham and Patrick one night, and Grant
Burwash another; racing the national dus on the windswept and
drizzle-covered roads near Hamilton and afterward enjoying a
drink to celebrate the race; assisting Dr. Schmoorkoff in minor surgery
to a gash on Frank Woolstencroft's leg; driving to Niagara Falls on
Monday with Patrick and absorbing the incredible fantasmargoria of the
tourist town there and dreamlike falls themselves; finally returning to
Victoria on Monday evening and realizing that I had experienced one of
the most amazing weeks of my life, only to learn today that my latest
attempt at a love-life has been unilaterally dismantled and offered up
to the gods of futility -- even all of that can be erased by witnessing
some of the finest running to be seen by Vancouver Island runners!
Duathlon Nationals
Obviously, there is much that I've
missed writing about, but here is a note about the National Duathlon
championships written on the plane ride home (excuse the small font! it came out that way when I pasted it!):
And so winds-up the weekend of the Nationals, where Graham Cocksedge established himself as the new National Champion, adding to his current Provincial title. On a cold (6 degrees) and windy (30-40km steady winds), with occasional drizzle, an interesting race unfolded. The course was a hilly two loops of a 5km circuit to begin; an L-shaped out and back bike leg, finishing wih a further 5km loop.
It was to be a very different race from last year's elite Nationals. In 2005 the first run, on a flat course, we went out comfortably for most and gradually wound up as it continued. In 2006, we took it out hard, with Kyle Marcotte leading out the group over the first 500m or so, when others began pulling through to share the lead into a headwind and on the rolling course. After about 4km, the group of 21, consisting both of the under23 and elite competitors, split into two main groups.
I found the pace at the front a bit fast but was actually feeling fairly good and felt like I could hold a hard pace, and hung on to the second group until the last km when I fell off the back of that group, as had a few others done before then. Graham was timed in the 10k at 31.25. We were told ithe course was about 200m short, and so we estimated adding 40seconds to our times. I was through in 32.35 (about 33.15) – at that point only a minute or so back of the leaders and not far behind the second group.
The bike
was another story altogether.
Being windy, it was highly advantageous to be in the shelter of a group
to draft among. I
was separated from the group off the first run and, combined with a
mediocre
transition, I was unable to catch them. The small second group managed to catch the leaders,
forming a group of 12 or 13 with the rest of us trailing in ones and
twos. On my own in the wind I lost 5 minutes to the leaders and,
cramping on the second run, could muster only a 18.43 second run.
Graham
and Kyle Marcotte made a sustained effort to break from the front on
the bike, as Kyle apparently did the majority of the work, likely
costing him a higher placing. Nonetheless a masterful performance
by Graham and great to see, while being closely challenged by second
place Andre-Paul Bellargon from Quebec.
Notes and highlights
As memories resurface after being nearly overidden by today's track racing, I'll post a few snippets.
...awaking in my room in the Sandringham hotel in Cardiff, neatly nestled on a main steet in downtown Cardiff, to the sounds of incessant yelling outside on Mary Street. I remain haunted by the constancy of disturbed and extended yells, even on a Wednesday and Thursday night. The shouts were both solitary ones that echoed with no replies, and ones exchanged among groups of men, some of whom perhaps came to blows or simply spewed their gutteral rage in spades until exhaustion overwhelmed them and they dispersed into disparate corners in the darkness.
There was a kind of otherworldliness to the cries and I could only perceive in the fitfulness of my dreams that beneath the collective ebb and flow of the Welsh person's workday and the bright skies of day, lingers a vast ocean of profound unhappiness. In those two nights during which I was aware of those cries, I could not help but perceive an undercurrent of a general human state far vaster in scale, perhaps not reflective of the lives of every human being, but yet representative of the cries of millions the world over. There are places and occurrence in this world that will shock me vastly more in their despair and cruelty; that much was shown to me in spades through the glass of a Cardiff night.
______________
The road is long with many a winding turn
That leads us to who knows where, who knows when
But I'm strong, strong enough to care for him.
He ain't heavy, he's my brother.
So on we go.
- The Hollies
Short interregnum
Friday, May 19, 2006
Well, as I sit here in a room at my cousin Julian's house near London, where cousin Lois will take me from in the morning back to Gatwick, a lot has happened. I haven't managed to gain internet contact until now, and now I can do little more than to give the merest of summaries. A synopsis cannot do justice to the stories I could have crafted, but given the lateness of the hour, at least by English standards, I will begin with a short one, and resume either after the National dus on Sunday in Hamilton, or after I return.
After arriving in Vancouver on a short flight from Victoria, I managed to get in a fantastic run from the Vancouver airport as I waited for my connector to London. There is a side-road that heads out the north of the airport that leads to McDonald Beach on the banks of the mighty Fraser River. A great little run in the sweltering Vancouver heat. But after leaving the warmth of sunny Vancouver last Tuesday and arriving in the cold and damp climes of London, I nearly thought to stay on the plane as it returned to Vancouver.
I've come to expect the pad searches or some other sort of extra scrutiny given my somewhat arabic appearance. Indeed, at a stop in Glasgow a security man did the ole' pad search after his brief expression of heartfelt interest in my condition. "How're you doing, my main man?" , he asked, in his rolling Scottish lilt. Just peachy, I thought, just don't be sticking your hands down my shorts.
After checking me over good and thoroughly, running his hands twice over my arms and body, he seemed genuinely disappointed not to find a harness of homemade bombs strapped around my chest. Of course this doesn't beat the time I arrived in Calgary back from Switzerland when two guards nearly tripped all over themselves and the other passengers as they lunged toward me demanding my identifcation. But that's another story.
But it's late! The conference is over - it went well, and I am glad for the acquaintances I've made. A great experience and worth every penny and drop of sweat in preparing for it. Now, I'd better get some more sleep for the flight to Hamilton. More to come.
Hard exercise
Monday, May 15, 2005A fairly hectic day of minor preparations winds to a close, and these last minutes of repose before the last normal sleep I will have until I return, are moments of serenity that I'm almost certain not to feel this profoundly until sometime after I am back.
It may be a cliche to say that it is the hardest of exercises to take those feelings of "serenity" with you where ever you go and into whatever circumstance you encounter -- so it is that sense of calmness that always grounds you - not the things you have or want or are surrounded by. Ideally we would be transplanted to any environment and circumstance and always be calmed by that sensation; it would be easy then to travel and live among foreign cultures, to live very differently or even under oppressive situations or to suffer greatly, if necessary. But in reality, of course, consistency of such a state is virtually impossible given the panoply of attachments, fears and prejudices we acquire - human nature does not easily allow for such a state; and few, it seems, would argue that human nature should ever be adjusted to permanently tolerate oppression. But to stretch or push "it" just a bit -- that is when our whole lives become easier, it seems to me, because then there is so much less to struggle with.
I'm no expert; there's no mastery of any yogic calmness and serenity hidden within these bones and flesh, that much is certain. But to know that I have a busy schedule ahead and to imagine that I could sail through every moment of it gracefully - to begin with that thought...then if I'll have done that much and to not have judged any moment of it too harshly - then I'll be that much richer for the entire experience.
One more rest, and let the exercise begin.
Provincial du champs
Sunday May 14, 2006Preliminaries (skip to "Race" heading, if this part is boring)
Saturday was a long day, beginning at 5:00 am in preparation for the drive to the ferry with enough time to make sure I was on the 7:00 sailing to the mainland. Arriving at about 6:25, I was safely on board, albeit rather tired from a fitful night of sleep.
Aboard the ferry, with a cup of coffee in my belly I read a few pages of a book called "Intelligence in Nature", about an anthropologist's travels through South America and other parts of the world and his discussions with various Shaman about their connections with plants and animals and their perceptions of nature's capacity to communicate with people. I then wandered the ferry looking for John Crouch and Mike Ellis, as I had seen them in their car in the car lot; finding them and John's friend Leo, we shared a word or two.
Taking the Princeton-Hope highway to Penticton was a good choice over the Coquihalla, not only saving the cost of the toll, but allowing me to savour the far more spectacular scenery along that route, and allowing the twists and turns to keep my sleepy brain and body coursing with sufficient adrenaline to keep my eyes wide for the drive.
Arriving in Penticton before 2:00 for the 4:00 race, I had plenty enough time to retrieve my race number and to prepare my bike, free of stress.
Race
With Kyle Marcotte's absence, the odd's on favourite was Graham Cocksedge. However, after learning that Tom Evans was in the field (past Ironman winner and long-course triathlon National team member), it looked like a battle was shaping up. Eric Simpson from Westbank (2nd in 2004 I think), always a strongman at these events was also in attendance, with some darkhorses like Joe Wessel (2nd 2005), Bert Sandie (twice competed at du Worlds, and 30.28 10k PR - but not currently fit). Trev Williams from Calgary (12th 2005 Penticton Ironman) was also racing, but just coming off an 8 day training camp consisting of about 1200km the bike. One can always expect other strong guys to emerge from the woodwork too, and this race was no exception.
Off the gun, Graham immediately went to the front, with another fellow (name uncertain) between Graham and me, Patrick Nesbitt and a couple others. Graham pulled away quickly, while the guy in second ran close to Graham for about 2 km before dropping off. Patrick dropped off behind me while I ran in third. Graham came through the first 5km in 15.55, the guy in second about 16:45 (guessing), and me in 17.02.
I wasn't happy with that run split, given that the last two years in a row I'd been significantly under 17mins. Nonetheless, I was in third, and I think everyone was running slower than in the past - perhaps the wind was a factor. Graham said his plan was to go all out, and he's run a 15.30 this year, so based on that standard, I think everyone was a bit slow on the day. I think Tom Evans and another guy came through in 4th/5th on the first run, with Eric Simpson in the mix close by as well.
Onto the bike, Graham was long gone. I felt fairly crappy on the first part of the bike, and couldn't seem to generate a lot of power. I rode somewhere near two others for the first 5km or so until Tom Evans bolted by me like I was going the other way. The two guys I was near eventually faded, and it was not long before Eric Simpson also bolted by me like I was going the other way - so there I was in 4th, without much idea how far behind the other guys were. On the bike, it turned out that Tom Evans and Eric Simpson both caught Graham on the bike. Evans put another 2 mins on him, apparently, while Simpson put perhaps 30 seconds on him.
Although I never felt particularly strong on the bike, I did manage to come into transition when Graham was still there, so I effectively caught him as well. Apparently he had a problem with one of his shoes which delayed him in transition a few seconds longer. My transition wasn't bad by my standards - I seem to be getting a bit faster at them, although I still nearly racked my bike in the wrong place and had to duck under one rack to get mine to the right spot, although that didn't cost me more than a couple of seconds.
Onto the second run, Graham started out 2mins back of Tom Evans and with a significant gap to make up on Eric Simpson. For the first 500 m, I was actually closing the gap on Graham and I thought I might even catch him. He said he was really suffering in the run-to-bike transition, and said he'd gone as hard as he could on the bike, which left him quite fatigued for the transition --the first time, he said, he'd felt that bad on the run off the bike. I remained fairly close to him for the first 2km, until he seemed to spontaneously rocket away from me, and in the space of a km I could barely see him anymore. Up the road he caught Eric Simpson, and then in the last 300m caught Tom Evans and put another 10s on him.
As for me, I flagged a bit in the middle of the last run, but could feel myself getting stronger in the last km or so, and began to feel like I could have gone faster had it been 10k to finish up the race.
Overall I was happy with the race. Although I do not feel like I'm peaking, it is nice to know I can still rely on a solid fitness base and gut out a respectable finish.
So in the end it was:
1.Graham Cocksedge 1:25.47
2. Tom Evans 1:25.57
3. Eric Simpson 1:26.15
4. Hugh Trenchard 1:27.03
5. Andrew Russell 1:28.03
6. Scott Tremblay 1:28:32
7. Trev Williams 1:29.41
8. Joe Wessel 1:29.55
9. Allan K-Boos 1:30.35
10. Dallas Cain 1:32.04
11. Patrick Nesbitt 1:32.56
There was a strong field in the women's race, although a smaller field than the men's, with Jessica Solymosi, taking the win, with Anne-Marie Madden from Victoria in 2nd, Christine Fletcher in 3rd.
1. Jessica Solymosi (Vernon) 1:33.40
2. Anne-Marie Madden (Victoria) 1:35.16
3. Christine Fletcher (Vancouver) 1:39.37
4. Yvonne Timewell (Vancouver) 1:40.22
5. Sandra Yaworski (Calgary) 1:44.26
Post race notes
In the morning Graham, Patrick and I (joined later by Anne-Marie) rode about 40km, riding the course for the Blossom 10mile race, which I ran last year (was 2nd then in 55something).
Driving home along the Princeton-Hope connector again was a breeze and I actually made the 4:00 ferry home, which was a pleasant surprise.
Next Stop: Carfiff Wales, British Philosophy of Sport Conference
Hot off the press! (correction)
LATE UPDATE Friday May 12, 2006...this reporter got his facts wrong... landslide was in Golden, not Canmore...
...reporter needs beauty rest...
Hot off the Press!
Friday, May 12, 2006This just in!!
Canmore, Alberta. Kyle Marcotte, of Calgary, the 2004 National duathlon champion, and three time winner of the B.C. Provincial duathlon, has been forced to abandon the B.C. Provincial championships tomorrow in Penticton. In a cell phone communique to Bruce Schlatter of Metchosin late Friday evening, Marcotte reported that a landslide near Canmore has forced B.C. bound Alberta traffic to turn back and that he will be unable to compete tomorrow.
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Well, that certainly makes things more interesting! Now the questions begin: can Trenchie catch Graham Cocksedge on the bike and put enough time on him to hold him off on the second run? Not likely, but stranger things have happened. Who else will show who is a contender? Michael Simpson from West Vancouver, possibly, or Eric Simpson from Westbank, possibly too. Joe Wessel from Kelowna is strong on the bike and was second last year. Patrick Nesbitt is a darkhorse. Paul Krochak from Vancouver? Oliver Blake from Whistler? It also depends if any of the really fast triathletes decide to show, like Kyle Jones, current National du champ, but traditionally they have not. There will no doubt be others fast guys, but I would say that Graham is now the odds on favourite.
Woohoo! it will be exciting! I may not be able to sleep tonight!
Aside from that...I did happen to have grown up in Edmonton... and when I was a teenager a certain hockey team from that city won 5 Stanley Cups...therefore....... GO OILERS! Sharks are toast! L'histoire! Gonzo! shat pfzzt - outta there!
The cyclist and the toreador
Thursday, May 11, 2006Today felt rather like a day off, in a sense. Aside from one imminent deadline, work was stressfree, with a luncheon for the Co-op student, Salina, whose last day was today. I felt sufficiently relaxed about my paper; started on the PowerPoint and got out for about an hour of riding on a windy and none-too-warm late afternoon.
I threw in three <2 minute efforts, with the rest consisting of mostly easy spinning, except for time spent turning my cheeks to the buffetting blows of an angry headwind on the way home, defying it once, twice, perhaps three times by charging it like a bull tormented by the toreador.
But the forces of nature are relentless, it is no secret. It reminds me of a movie, the name of which has long escaped me, in which a mad and dying man lunges defiantly into an ocean of rolling whitecaps, flinging a stick backwards and forward, shouting "go back! go back!" to the waves. Just like those waves, devoid of ears to hear, no wind succumbs to the demands of one lone cyclist who charges madly headlong into it, eases off, and charges again.
Nonetheless, I think in the end, I managed to engage the wind just briefly enough for the ride to qualify as an "easy" one.
Afterward was able to join Leann for a bite at Fifth Street, then did some tinkering with my bike: switching a new cogset from my Ksyrium rear wheel onto my new Zipp, light as a frisbee, and replacing brakepads. Carbon rims require a special kind of brake-pad.
I do feel a bit sleep deprived, however, and am looking forward at least one "z", if not a few of them.
__________
"How the wind is laughing,
It laughs with all its might.
Laugh and laugh the whole day through,
And half the summer's night."
Sport and Complexity Theory
Wednesday, May 10, 2006Managed to get out for perhaps 11km today, mostly easy with one 300m stride, and one 2min effort to stretch out the legs.
Got down for the 8:30 Iolanthe/Gondoliers rehearsal (apparently they are doing bits of both for a VOS pops concert in November, with a full run of Iolanthe the following spring).
I've also essentially completed my paper "Sport and Complexity Theory" for the Philosophy of Sport conference next week. I've uploaded a pdf. version to a site I've created for the purpose - www.pelotonsim.homestead.com - see icon and title "Sport and Complexity". The formatting is a bit wonky and the tables may be a bit difficult to read as result, but one should be able at least to see where I've gone with the subject. Still have the Powerpoint to complete, and may be finishing it on the plane trip over, I'm starting to think. That's ok, though, since it will be a matter of pulling salient points from the paper, which should be relatively straightforward.
I'm a tad tired at the moment - time to hit the hay. This time I have no energy to think of any other way to say it.
Tight shoes
Tuesday, May 9, 2006Update since Sunday - 13km run around lakes at very easy pace; thought to ride afterward, but decided not to in the end, plus it was like we were doing the Rocky Horror time-warp back to January for much of the day - not conducive to riding if one happened to be fence-straddling about the prospect in the first place. Saw Mystic India at the Imax with Elisabeth later - theme of unity in diversity for a country spanning the continuum of geographic and cultural differences. Very interesting, but painted a very romantic picture - you could almost believe there was no suffering there.
Monday - nada - but went bleary eyed with paper, "Sport and Complexity Theory", about 7000 words and now after more work today, virtually complete, and will send to conference organizers tomorrow. Perhaps a bit long for easy digestibility, but for now I won't chop too much. I may later, though. Organizers have not required a paper, but I would like to make it available to support my presentation. Another look at it tomorrow with fresh eyes, and I should be able to send it. Still need to do PowerPoint, but that should be a straightforward process of cutting and pasting, and then rehearsing for the half hour presentation.
Today - nearly nada - short zip down to gym for 15 mins on exercise bike, some calisthenics and stretching in the sauna. It was tough, but I managed to keep my heartrate below 85 for all those 15 minutes on the exercise bike! Took bike in to Fort St. Cycles at lunch for a tune-up.
Que sera sera, if the shoe fits wear it, or if you happen to live in one, like me - if you fit the shoe then try to get out once in a while...ok enough insane ramblings for the night.
Transition training
Saturday, May 6, 2006This morning Cliff picked up my windtrainer and a bag with running shoes and a shirt or two to take to the track after dropping his son Liam off for a paddling session. After Cliff picked up my gear I hopped my bike for about a half hour of warming up before meeting Cliff at the track.
There we met and set up my windtrainer for a brutal session of 3 sets of these: 800m run, change shoes as rapidly a possible, hop bike on trainer for 3 minutes at threshold, hop off, change shoes and 800m again -- 5mins of rest between each set. I don't recall clearly all the 800m splits (for some reason I don't remember them as well when I don't see them on my own watch - if someone calls them out, I'm more likely to forget). But I think they went: 2:36--3mins on bike--2:29; 2:32--3mins--2:32; 2:31--3mins--2:39. I really came apart on the last 800 and almost passed out at the line. I did about an hour of riding to cool down - in the rain and wind, no less, by then.
A very, very tough workout. The base fitness is there, of that I have no doubt, but whether I can be fresh for the races is still a question mark. I do have some more optimism about Nationals, having learned that the course is rolling - slightly better for a strong cyclist than a flat course.
Cliff is a great motivator and he sacrificed his own time to come out and yell out splits and encouragement - nice of him to do that. That will be the last hard workout before Provincials in Penticton next weekend. Tomorrow will be about 15k of very easy jogging and maybe 40mins of light spinning on the bike after, and basically no hard efforts next week until possibly Thursday for a few minutes of tempo.
I felt very tired from my workout, and am probably also still tired from a very hard session on Thursday. I napped for a while in the early afternoon, then met up with Julien Periard to purchase a set of Zipp 404 carbon wheels from him. After borrowing Zipps from Bruce S for a race last year (or possibly two?), and from Bob C for the Worlds in 2003 in Switzerland, I finally have my own top-quality race wheels.
Here again the evening winds down, although somehow I feel I have miles to go before I sleep. I may still have just a jot of energy to continue fine tuning my conference paper. The miles may be rather short ones though, if I don't get back to it immediately!
Friday night
Friday, May 5, 2005An easy 10k loop around the quiet lakes winds up the week. Now, through the balcony glass a few last lingering clouds loosely populate a shrinking sky that tilts backward, seeming to share a last gentle smile with the scattered fading embers that flit briefly along the horizon, and are gone. It looks so peaceful, but wind brushes the trees and flings them forward while against the glass reflections of the lights inside, and me as I type, overtake the world outside. There is time enough for today to pass away, and for another soon to wander sleepily into tomorrow. It is into the hands of that night time traveler I commend myself soon.
Que sera sera
Thursday, May 4, 2006
I managed to get down to the Legislature this morning to watch the First Reading of the new Representative for Children and Youth Act. Cynthia, the manager leading preparations for the Bill, was still home asleep after being up until 3:00am last night finishing work on the House binders. First Reading is just the introduction of the Bill and debates occur in Second Reading and Committee stages. Even so, First Reading, as I've learned, is often when the media is most prevalent and, during the lunch break, scrums around the Minister speaking to the Bill -- in this case Wally Oppal, the Attorney General. I didn't see what came of the media event, but it was still interesting to watch the initial ceremony marking the opening of the session, with a man in black robes bringing in the golden sceptre to commence the 10:00 session - as well as the AG's reading of the speaking notes to introduce the Bill.
So I got out for about 1:50 on the bike, with about about 1:15 at time-trial effort, broken into about 5 intervals of between 10 and 20 minutes, with a few minutes of rest between. It was so incredibly nice to ride with shorts and a short-sleeve jersey! I felt strong and I feel like the bike fitness is now surpassing running fitness, as the balance was tipped the other way until recently. The ride had the feeling like I could sustain a time-trial effort for upwards of 2 hours, though what would happen beyond that isn't clear. It seems it is rare for me to have both disciplines aligned or balanced at the same time; it is usually either one or the other, though there were inklings later in the season last year, that they were nicely following equivalent courses. Que sera sera.
Cliff has a high intensity transition workout in mind for me on Saturday. The idea will be to set up my turbo-trainer at the track, run a track interval (perhaps 800m), hop on the turbo trainer for a few minutes, jump off and run another track interval, and then some sort of rest before doing another, with a few of these, I expect. Tomorrow I will do an easy run of about 15km. Likely some combination of running/cycling on Sunday all at low intensity, and a very easy week leading to Provincials in Penticton next Saturday.
Tomorrow
Wednesday, May 3, 2006I have much admiration for working professionals who can, for days on end, put in 12-plus hours a day on the job. With a lot still to be done in preparation for the First Reading in the House of the new MCFD Bill tomorrow, today was a 12 hour day, and I missed the Wednesday-night cycling race at Latoria, unfortunately. But others have been doing this for several days in a row now, and I can barely imagine how anyone could bear it for more than a few days. Obviously people adapt, and some even enjoy it.
When I see such people work, I am impressed by a kind of stamina and endurance that I don't think I have. I for one am happy to trade money for more time - to some reasonable sustainable limit of course.
Although I missed the race this evening, and on such a great evening too(!) I did get out for about 35 mins of fairly easy running. Perhaps this was what I needed anyway, although I was definitely wanting to get out and race tonight - bike racing is just way too much fun.
Well, I'll now let these lids drop slowly and head to my bed, and while I sleep I'll wait for tomorrow to welcome me in.
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Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
'Till the last syllable of recorded time
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death
- Macbeth
Leggy clams
Tuesday, May 2, 2006Clams have legs. I know I've said as much before, but I am reminded of this fact by recalling the truth of it as revealed through the B.C. comic strip which I remember from years ago. And this was only triggered because I thought that my own legs felt quite good on a ride of about 1hr 20 minutes this evening. They felt almost as good today as they did on Sunday when I went for a ride after the 10k race in the morning, although today I elected to "hold back the reins" and not to go too hard, although it was tempting to do so. On Sunday I went flat out to punish myself for such a poor running performance! Actually, I went hard to simulate a duathlon effort, not really to punish myself.
But the real reason I know that clams have legs is because I was feeling a bit clammy myself today, and I know that I have legs - hence the conclusion that clams have legs.
Tomorrow I will do the Wednesday night bike race on the Latoria course, which will be my first time racing that course. I know the course well now, but only from the perspective of a driver in a car.
Tomorrow is also the first of the practices for the Iolanthe chorus (I'm not sure why they want us to do Gondoliers too, since I thought this was just for Iolanthe - I guess I'll find out). I've already told them, though, that I can make perhaps only one session in May. After May the practices resume in September, although I have been told I may be able to do some small-group or private training with one of the chorus leaders through the summer. Fortunately Gilbert and Sullivan is all in English, the words nice and catchy and the melodies generally a bit simpler (I think) than many of the other European operas (hence it being an "operetta"), so I think it is within my abilities to get a handle on the pieces. If I begin listening to the CD right about now, I may not be too far behind come the more intense practices in the fall! They are evidently willing to take a bit of a risk with me, knowing that I'm not well trained, but on the basis that they seem to think I may show some promise.
Ok, I absolutely must get some more work done on my conference presentation. I think I have the content under control now, it's just fine tuning the paper, and putting together the Power Point, which will be relatively easy once I have the paper complete.
Leggy clams
Tuesday, May 2, 2006Clams have legs. I know I've said as much before, but I am reminded of this fact by recalling the truth of it as revealed through the B.C. comic strip which I remember from years ago. And this was only triggered because I thought that my own legs felt quite good on a ride of about 1hr 20 minutes this evening. They felt almost as good today as they did on Sunday when I went for a ride after the 10k race in the morning, although today I elected to "hold back the reins" and not to go too hard, although it was tempting to do so. On Sunday I went flat out to punish myself for such a poor running performance! Actually, I went hard to simulate a duathlon effort, not really to punish myself.
But the real reason I know that clams have legs is because I was feeling a bit clammy myself today, and I know that I have legs - hence the conclusion that clams have legs.
Tomorrow I will do the Wednesday night bike race on the Latoria course, which will be my first time racing that course. I know the course well now, but only from the perspective of a driver in a car.
Tomorrow is also the first of the practices for the Iolanthe chorus (I'm not sure why they want us to do Gondoliers too, since I thought this was just for Iolanthe - I guess I'll find out). I've already told them, though, that I can make perhaps only one session in May. After May the practices resume in September, although I have been told I may be able to do some small-group or private training with one of the chorus leaders through the summer. Fortunately Gilbert and Sullivan is all in English, the words nice and catchy and the melodies generally a bit simpler (I think) than many of the other European operas (hence it being an "operetta"), so I think it is within my abilities to get a handle on the pieces. If I begin listening to the CD right about now, I may not be too far behind come the more intense practices in the fall! They are evidently willing to take a bit of a risk with me, knowing that I'm not well trained, but on the basis that they seem to think I may show some promise.
Ok, I absolutely must get some more work done on my conference presentation. I think I have the content under control now, it's just fine tuning the paper, and putting together the Power Point, which will be relatively easy once I have the paper complete.
Odd dualities
Monday, May 1, 2006May Day.
Well, I felt a tad guilty when I'd heard a few people at work were hashing through the latest draft of the new MCFD Bill until 1:30 last night. I spent a few hours of my Saturday on a related aspect of it, and when I didn't get a call from anyone yesterday, I was home free for the rest of the day. Wow, were some people snarky today too. Some were snarky, while others were punchy. Some oscillated between being snarky and punchy.
And then some were snarky and punchy at the same time -- a truly mystifying state of being! Rather like some sort of weird quantum duality - the very act of observing such a person crystalizes one of two possible states: snarky or punchy. But when you're not looking they stew away in that odd state of being both snarky and punchy at the same time.
Well, it really wasn't as bad as all that, but rather was one of those days. So that about sums up my May Day! Too bad it wasn't a holiday like practically everywhere else in the Western world. But that's ok, because all those places are still an awfully long way from Merville!
Ok - time to get a grip. Maybe I have a few more minutes in me of some real productivity before the ole' lids drop like curtains on a stage.
