Eight weeks ago, I decided on a whim to sign up for a an off-road Triathlon (XTERRA). I’d never done a triathlon before and the longest I’d ever run was a half-marathon and a couple casual mountain bike races. I’d always wanted to try a triathlon, but just never found the motivation. So, with eight weeks to train, I forced the motivation and registered for an Xterra in Tahoe City. After all, you can do anything in eight weeks… right?

To help with the training, I thought why not drop a second Xterra in, 4 weeks away, and use that as a practice for the Tahoe race. Long story short, I threw myself in, really having little to no idea what I was doing — but knew I’d have to figure it out. The first practice race went OK, I finished middle of the pack, I was very slow in the swim and a mess in the transitions. But I learned a lot!

Then, this past weekend I raced in the Tahoe City Xterra and, much to my surprise, I placed first in my age group and 5th overall in the sprint category. It was a small race, so not a massive deal and I say this not to boast, but to illustrate a really important principle/lesson that I learned back in Grade 12 that I’m reminded of. It is this.

Stop not doing things because you think you’ll suck. I’m not telling you that you won’t suck. You probably will. But everyone sucks at some point. You have to suck, before you can be great.

I was always relatively active growing up, but I was never particularly amazing at sport. I was short and could never quite get my head around how to score goals in soccer and hockey or shoot free throws in basketball. After being mediocre at these sports for a while, I eventually built up an aversion to playing them competitively for the fear of ‘sucking.’ Which I KNOW many (if not everyone) has.

I remember the moment in the summer of Grade 11 saying, screw this — I’m going to go into my last couple years of high-school and am going to try EVERYTHING. No matter what happens, just give it a go. And that’s what I did. I was on the track team, rowing team, swim team, volleyball team, was a volleyball coach, and joined the school band. Now, I wasn’t amazing at any of these things — I was OK, but I learned a lot. And, while I sucked at first, I got quite a bit better and was, well, a lot faster than I thought.

This trend of just trying EVERYTHING has continued throughout my life. For example, I always absolutely despised sea food and was not much of an adventurous eater. Then, I found myself on a plane, moving to China for a year. I remember the moment, sitting on the plane thinking, there’s going to be a lot of weird food in China and likely a lot of amazing seafood. It’s time to suck it up and try anything. And that’s what I did. Some of the food was indeed AWFUL — but I also had some of the best food I’ve ever tasted and will now eat pretty much anything. So, while I thought I was a very conservative eater, I was in fact much more open (or faster) than I thought.

This has carried on in my work life in trying new entrepreneurial endeavours, but I won’t dive into that now. There are many stories to come there.

The trend in all of this is that I’ve experienced countless situations where I’ve been absolutely awful at things and then with much less time than you might expect have found a way to excel or at least learn some new things. I definitely don’t think that I have a greater potential to do this than other people.

And this is the point. I think that most people are much ‘faster than they think.’ Whether that being sport, music, work, school, eating, family or anything else — people are generally MUCH better at things (or have the potential to be) than they believe.

I know this might sound a bit overly motivational and aspirational, but I strongly believe that pride (or the fear of sucking) robs people of so many awesome experiences. So, I’ll leave it with this.

Suck it up. Go suck at something — but I promise you’ll get better and won’t regret it.

Trust me. You’re faster than you think.

You’re Faster Than You Think was originally published in Triathlon: Swim, Bike, Run, Life on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

Packet pickup can be stressful. You have to be sure you have packed some form of photo ID, your USA Triathlon membership card (or an extra little wad of cash), and a spare hour into your race-eve itinerary of: hitting the road at 5:03 p.m., navigating to a semi-remote body of water, checking into a nearby-ish campground, remembering you forgot to pack dinner, navigating some more to the local bike store or city park that got stuck hosting the packet pickup, letting strangers doodle on your body with permanent marker, navigating back to your campsite while managing to hit a Pizza Hut (am I joking?) on the way, digging through your swag bag and accepting that the free-ChapStick trend will not return before you finish your last free stick from that race three years ago, celebrating when you don’t get a pink swim cap, putting your number on every piece of gear, realizing you didn’t take the numbers off from the last race and rode around town for three weeks with race numbers plastered on your bike and helmet, organizing clothing and food for minimal exertion the next morning, settling in and trying to fall asleep before your neighbors’ kids even get their hotdog dinner with s’mores, then wishing you could have a s’more. If you’re sneaky, you can swap shirts with your husband so that at some point in the weekend he throws on a women’s small and you can stop sucking your gut in under his men’s medium.

It occurred to me this weekend that we practice for every aspect of race day except this very important stage. We find ways to simulate every moment of this swim-bike-run endeavor, often with absurd tactics.

Well, this weekend, we got to run through our very own packet-pickup drill. Because the Saturday race we had on the calendar since January was actually a Sunday race all along.

As we rolled up to the lake Friday afternoon, scanning the shore for someone with a clipboard and boxes of t-shirts, we also scouted the race setting, getting our game faces on. It didn’t take us not long to slowly come to the realization that there was no packet pickup here.

“It did start at 5, right?” eyes darting to the clock, which read 5:34.

“Yeah. It was here at the lake, right?” looking around for that one guy who always rides the course in full gear the night before the race.

“It was TONIGHT, right?”

Silence

“Let’s check the email … mumble5to8, mumblelake, mumblemumble SATURDAY night!”

Silence, then all at once, and in unison, a giggle, a chuckle, a chortle, and a giant eye roll.

“You know it isn’t an A race when …”*

So, we navigated back to town, caught up with family for dinner, and stayed up past 8 p.m.

And let me tell you, we nailed packet pickup Saturday evening. In fact, I’m pretty certain our practice is why, on Sunday, I managed to come in third and my man placed so well.**

Now that we have this learning experience under our belts, I’d recommend practicing your packet-pickup routine to any triathlete. It might even be wise to do repeats of pulling out your driver’s license from your wallet while looking for your name on an upside down list and boxing out the line of water-jug-chugging, chia-chomping, public-compression-sock-wearing triathletes behind you.

Also, consider practicing the date-double-check for upcoming races.

*We can also attribute my memory deficit and inability to focus to my bacon deficiency. There are likely studies that could back this statement up.

**Mr. My Man declined to be bragged about for this article. However, you can find out for yourself pretty easily.

I can’t believe you made it all the way to the end! I’d like to thank you for reading and invite you to recommend anything you like, follow this blog, and send bacon sponsor leads (or just packages of bacon) my way.

How to Get to a Low-Priority Race Prepared and Well-Rested was originally published in Triathlon: Swim, Bike, Run, Life on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

On the first day of spring, I went for a two-hour bike ride outside. I waved at many fellow cyclists as we relished the sunshine and dry roads, oblivious that Murphy* had tagged along.

I was just as excited about spring as I was my speedy intervals, and as I passed unfamiliar face after unfamiliar face, I could tell by how fast I was going that everyone was impressed, as well. However, during the few minutes of easy spinning sprinkled over the course of those two hours, I crossed paths with every human being I know. And they surely weren’t blown away by my athletic prowess.

A few days later, I went for a fast run. I flew. It felt amazing.

The roads were empty.

They weren’t empty during the next day’s recovery run. I hate recovery runs. They’re graceless and boring and, well, slow. So naturally, they attract the people with whom I’d rather not share moments like this:

The most awkward moment of my spring training with Murphy (so far) came on a run that called for regularly striding out for 30 seconds. This workout guarantees someone will come around the corner just before you’re supposed to speed up. That way, you appear to pick up the pace dramatically whenever you realize someone is watching. Pro tip: If you reach the end of the 30-second interval as someone comes into sight, DO NOT SLOW DOWN. This might be your only chance to earn back some style points.

I suppose I might as well just give up on trying to appear athletic, attractive, or focused. Training in public is impossible.

*Murphy’s law states, “Anything that can go wrong will go wrong.”

I can’t believe you made it all the way to the end! I’d like to thank you for reading and invite you to recommend anything you like, follow this blog, and send bacon sponsor leads (or just packages of bacon) my way.

Spring Training with Murphy was originally published in Triathlon: Swim, Bike, Run, Life on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

2014

A Look Back…

It’s been a crazy unforgettable journey, full of ups and downs and everything in-between. Going into 2014, I knew that completing my first 70.3 would be a huge feat, and probably not something I could handle correctly on my own, so I decided to work with a coach, and have been working with Bill since December of 2013. Never have I been challenged so physically, mentally, and emotionally before, nor have I ever made such careful use of a calendar to help me organize and plan my time. The J in my ISFJ was really put to the test this year!

Some approximate stats from 2014:

• 176 miles swam (in 11 different bodies of open water as well as the pool)
• 2,628 miles biked (616 of which were done on a trainer)
• 631 miles run (20 of which were in Taiwan)
• 9 official races (1 half marathon, 1 5K, 5 triathlons, 1 aquathlon, 1 open water swim), 2 DNS and 2 TCSD aquathlons — in 4 cities and 2 states
• Bonus — raised $2,764 for charity:water through my 31 for 31 campaign

All of this and strength training culminated in roughly 445 hours of work, excluding foam rolling, pre-workout prep, multiple showers per day and commuting. If not for the achilles injury early on in the year and the knee injury that took me out for over a month, these numbers would probably be even higher. Add onto this 12.5 hours of sessions with a physical therapist, as well as the time put in to do physical therapy exercises on my own and the doctor visits after my two bike accidents… wow, just wow.

As someone who’s never done any serious training or workouts prior to jumping into triathlon, I’m utterly amazed to have pulled it all off. I understand why people tell me I’m crazy and jokingly ask how many miles I swam, biked and ran over the weekend, but even this is nothing compared to what people training for full Ironman races do! I didn’t track things as well when I didn’t have a Garmin and trained on my own, but in comparison, I put in about 349 miles of running in 2013 and 99 miles of running back in 2012. That’s quite the dramatic jump from 2012 to 2014!

2014 has taught me a lot about hard work, diligence and consistency, as well as struggling to continue forward and getting back up when I’ve fallen down. I’ve definitely faltered and had my very low days where I felt utterly discouraged and defeated — whether it be from injury or wondering why life was so unfair because someone who seemingly didn’t work as hard beat me just because they were naturally that much faster, but that’s why people always tell you to stop comparing yourself to others, right? ☺ You come to realize that you can only race as fast as you can go, regardless of who you are competing against. Your biggest competitor is always yourself.

These days, I’m much more attuned to my body and the fluctuations I feel depending on how much I sleep, how well I eat, etc. I’ve discovered new places to run (and actually enjoy running!), met a bunch of new people, and have been able to spend more time being thankful to God for His provisions and for the quiet times I get to spend with Him. I’ve seen more gorgeous sunrises this year than I’ve probably ever seen in my life, something I appreciate much more than watching the sun set. Witnessing a sunrise is like a treat reserved for those making an effort to seize the day, as well as the signal for a new day full of possibility and promise. Kuangkai likes to say that he’s always “high on life,” and I totally understand the feeling now. Maybe it’s the endorphins, maybe it’s sharing rare moments with the other crazy lone runner who’s also on the road in 39F weather, maybe it’s the high from crossing the finish line feeling strong and accomplished, but I don’t think I’ve felt so alive before.

I think I‘ve reached that stage in life where I can look at where I am and where I thought I’d be based on the roadmap of dreams and plans of a naive college student and either feel depressed or hopeless that I haven’t reached the “next phase” in life yet (marriage, kids, etc.), or I can seize the opportunity to branch out and explore new interests and hobbies instead. I’ve chosen the latter, and while it’s definitely no walk in the park and probably sounds way more glamorous than it actually is, I am thankful that I can pursue a dream I never thought possible before — becoming an athlete, racing triathlons, and representing our country, even as a lowly age group racer. Life is what you make of it, so go make the most of it! Beats sitting around waiting for life to happen, too ☺.

Some highlights over the past year…

January

March

May

June

July

August

[August 29 — Cleared orthopedics!]

September

October

[October 7 — Graduated from PT! Knee is healed!]

November

December

So 2015 is here and now what? Without a “big” race on my schedule (meaning nothing longer than an Olympic distance triathlon), it makes for an interesting approach to making goals and staying motivated. Mostly, I just care about swimming and running faster, with ITU Aquathlon Worlds in Chicago in mind. The rest is just kind of on there to serve as milestones and measures of progress to keep me busy. It’s cool, but it also makes it hard for me to want to work hard on the bike. That’ll probably continue to be my biggest challenge this year!

In any case, 2015 is going to bring me to even more locations, including Nepal, and who knows what God has planned for me this year? It’ll be another journey for the books (a.k.a. Medium)! ☺

Cheers and Happy New Year!

2014: A Look Back… was originally published in Triathlon: Swim, Bike, Run, Life on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

After weeks of preparation and anticipation, the day has come to wake up at 4 am with big grin on my face. Not every day one can enter Harbour Bridge. Another race, another hours of pain and happiness. I’ve run Auckland Marathon and it took 3 hours and 50 minutes.

Preparation

This time around I was not as consistent with weekly distances as before North Shore Marathon. Partially because I wanted to focus more on cycling (Ironman is coming!), but also — I’ve been away 3 consecutive weekends. My longest run was a Waitakare half marathon race, which I joined with no taper nor rest before, but with only one goal — negative splits. The run itself was a 2 lap course. I’ve done second lap 3 minutes faster than the first one, so — mission accomplished. My overall time was not that bad either — 1h 48 minutes. I’m quite sure that I should be able to run sub 1:40 half now with no major problems.

Few weeks earlier I did a relay marathon race, 9km and 6km legs with 4:30 min/km pace.

For the first time I also run lots of hill repeats (between 6 to 8% gradient on treadmill) as well as sprint intervals, to gain some speed and strength in my legs.

On top of that — yoga at least once per week, more swimming and cycling. I felt ready!

Execution

After fail run of North Shore Marathon I knew that I have to start slower that I’d want. And so my pace for first 20 km averaged at 5:15min/km, which turned out to be faster than North Shore (5:21), but with lower heart rate (156 vs 164 BPM).

Second half averaged at 5:31min/km (that includes 3 minute long toilet break) with 165 average BPM. Once again compared to North Shore — 6:08min/km at 166 BPM average. That’s over 30 seconds per km faster at second half. I like it a lot!

Last 5 km averaged at 5:20min/km and 171 BPM. Not perfectly negative splits, but way better this time around.

I think that my quads hurt much more this time, but somehow I had power to push through that pain and only walk at aid stations. I was really close to stop and walk and the only thing that was keeping me moving was the most cheesy mantra in my head.

(inhale) There is no (exhale) pain. (inhale) There is no (exhale) pain. (inhale) There is no (exhale) pain.

Oh, there was pain! It got me about two meters before finish line, when I’ve noticed time over 3 hours and 50 minutes. That was the first time I’ve checked the total time. And it was 5 minutes slower that I wanted it to be.

Yet, I’ve done the best I could on that day. I had absolutely no energy left and it took me a while to take off timing chip and move from finish line to recovery zone. Also — my Garmin has shown 42.8km distance. This, together with 3 minutes lost in the toilet reassures me that the next marathon I run will be sub 3:45! For now — I shaved 23 seconds per km compared to the North Shore and it will keep me happy for a long time.

Here are data pages from both North Shore and Auckland marathons.

Conclusions

My training was good. Not perfect, but good. Running half marathon on tired legs was a great idea. Running hills and hard intervals was a good idea. Running less and cycling more probably saved my legs a lot, so I could run without any injury on heavy pain.

Consistency really is a key. I can truly say that I love marathon distance now. And I’m not over with it yet!

Recovery and next goals

I will take this week really easy and next week “somehow” easy. My quads are destroyed, but less than last time, as I can actually walk the stairs. At the end of November I’m going for a week long self-organised training camp with 160km race around lake finish, to kickstart 16 weeks training period before Ironman New Zealand.

Check my other posts at http://50bpm.com.

What I’ve learned running Auckland Marathon was originally published in Triathlon: Swim, Bike, Run, Life on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.

My first Ironman experience, Ironman Brasil

On May 25, 2014, I became an Iron(wo)man!

Of the 1,933 athletes, 80.39% were Brazilian and 92.03% were men. I finished in 12 hours and 14 minutes, ranking eighth in my age group. The journey to Ironman required immense commitment, sacrifice, money and time. In the end, one word comes to mind: WOOHOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Wednesday, May 21

Five of us board a plane bound for Florianopolis, a small island off the coast of Brazil. Kaitlyn loses her blue polkadot iPhone, twice; the final time in Chicago while running to catch our connecting flight to São Paulo. We reach the gate and it’s closed. A hysterical 15 minutes later, the supervisor Marios authorizes it to reopen. We board the plane and get the stare down from every. single. passenger. We made it, or so we thought. A sigh of relief.

Thursday, May 22

3:00pm — My bike doesn’t arrive in São Paulo. Travis and I miss our flight to the island as we’re dealing with the lost luggage. We get escorted through Customs by United (which is probably a blessing as I may have been taken into custody with the amount of white powder I had in my suitcase).

4:00pm—The realization kicks in that I don’t have a bike to race my first Ironman…in three days. PANIC mode. Crying begins. I message friends at home.

5:00pm—United provides us with a hotel as the next flight to Florianopolis is at 8am Friday. Travis and I hop in a cab, look at a map and realize we’re being driven 1.5 hours outside of the city center—redirect—Travis books a night at the Sheraton downtown. Crying continues. Friends at home are researching all alternatives and there is hope. We reach the hotel and I open my Facebook/Email/Twitter. I begin sobbing. Travis looks over and says, “it’s going to be alright.” But this time I was crying from happiness. My amazing Code Camp gals posted a touching video that I could not received at a more perfect time.

7:00pm—Time to decompress. We head to a fancy restaurant the hotel recommended called Figueira Rubaiyat (ranked one of São Paulo’s top ten restaurants!). We spare no expense. I drink half a bottle of wine (against my plan) and catch a cab home in the rain. I return to the hotel to a message from Brunno at Specialized in São Paulo. Not only does he have a size 54 that he can lend me, but he can DELIVER it to my hotel room THAT NIGHT (THANK YOU Bryan, Danielle and Brunno. I’m planning to buy a TT bike soon, and it will definitely be a Shiv after this experience ☺). To top it off, Ashley and Rob find a friend Rafa who can lend me a bike on the island and PJ introduces me to Val who has a friend who also offered. Three options in six hours from around the world. Still amazed.

Twitter / vslavich: the magical @iamspecialized ...

the magical @iamspecialized bike fairies deliver a bike to my hotel in Brazil at 12am thanks to @BWardman @DHauptman pic.twitter.com/RbIyhhIOOd

Friday, May 23

9:00am—Arrive in Florianopolis! We have no rental car reservation because of our flight change. We visit each rental car booth and (1) no one speaks English and (2) no one has any cars…except the last one. And all they have is a small manual. Looks like poor Travis is driving for the remainder of our time on the island.

12:00pm—Made it to the resort. Head to the Expo for Packet pickup and find my saddle and aero bars for sale, for a modest $1000 USD. We walked there. It rained. We cabbed back.

4:00pm—Restless. Must collect pedals and aero bars soon if racing on the loaned bike.

5:00pm—Still no bike. Receive a call from United. My bike is held at Customs in São Paulo. “Do you have a receipt for your bike?” Of course I don’t!

6:13pm—I get a message from Marcela at United saying my bike was on flight G3 2080 and would be delivered to my resort by noon Saturday.

11:00pm—Travis agrees to drive to the airport to collect my bike! Customs lost my wheel skewer. Fortunately I have an extra from my loaned bike.

Saturday, May 24

10:00am—Team Brazil heads to do sightseeing. Brielle stays back to help me prep and makes the delicious rice balls with recipes from Feed Zone Portables.

2:00pm—Beth arrives, luggage-less (hers was lost too). Back to the Expo for bike check.

7:00pm—Dinner: simple chicken, rice and beets. RNR. We ICE Beth.

9:00pm—Sleep.

Sunday, May 25. Race Day.

3:00am—Probably the worst part of the day. Eat 1500 calories. Feel like I may vomit and proceed to pour massive amounts of CarboPro on all my food in attempt to get all the calories in. Lay back down for an hour.

4:30am—Dress, serenaded “You are the Champion” by the girls. RACE TIME!!!

5:30am—No announcements are in English. No one speaks English. I attempt to use the porter potty and get ushered away—there, apparently, are male and female stalls. Why the separation? I still don’t know.

6:30am—Take my water bottle filled with Osmo Pre-Load for ladies. Three men ask to take a sip. Apparently #MenAreLargeWomen.

6:45am—Befriend an Argentinian man and become his puppy. My only friend in a sea of 1900 athletes.

7:00am—Race begins!! The sun rises over the ocean. We swim in an “M” with the middle involving a 70m dash on land.

8:15am—Out of the water. Smiling! Enjoyed the entire swim—even the getting-kicked-in-the-face-by-hundreds-of-men part.

8:25am—Change into my Kit Order kit and off on the bike! Realize I took my socks out of my shoes on my test ride the day prior—sockless it is! Perfect 65 degree weather and not a cloud in sight. Quick nibble on a Kutoa bar.

Mile 55—YAY! Almost halfway and time for my Special Needs bag! Can’t wait for my chocolate peanut butter cup, motivational notes from Chris and Sierra, a refresh of rice balls, an excuse to stop and go pee and seeing my friends at the halfway point.

Mile 57—No Special Needs. No friends. Grumpy and hangry.

Mile 70—No Special Needs. No friends. Grumpy and hangry.

Mile 80—No Special Needs. No friends. Grumpy and hangry.

Mile 82—FINALLY Special Needs!!!!!!! REJOICE!! Make friends will all the cyclists around me. Pass at least 20 people on every “hill” because apparently no one can climb in Brazil.

2:30pm—RUN Time! Unsure if Brazilians know of Wonder Woman. Put on my Wonder Woman outfit anyway. The volunteer in the changing room laughs—yes, this is going to be good! No pockets on my outfit so I stuff GUs and Shot Bloks into my sports bra.

2:35pm—I hear someone yell “______ ___VIDA!” OK, my name is something vida. I hear it again and again. “Mulher Maravilha!!!” Every few minutes I hear it. It makes me smile. It makes me wave my arms. It makes me dance a little.

Mile 12—I can’t believe it’s almost over. Where did the day go? How is it over???

Mile 13—I think I’m getting blisters on my feet. I’m tired. OK, getting ready for this to be done.

Mile 16—Blahhh, the same loop again? Where are the spectators?? A group yells “Mulher Maravilha!!!” Fist pump. YAY! More caffeine.

7:10pm—Sprinting to the finish. Wait, no, it’s not actually the finish—just an arch pointing in the direction of the finish line. Brutal. Katherine, Brielle, Kaitlyn and Beth start running alongside me. Kaitlyn, with a full bladder, pees her pants, but just a little. I muster the energy for a painful jump at the finish line. I don’t collapse. 10 minutes after, I am waiting in line for food, dancing, moving out of a combination of caffeine-high, delirium and PURE UTTER EXCITEMENT. I DID IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What I learned

Set goals. Big ones. Ones that take years to achieve. Then work backwards.

Don’t put your pedals and other essentials in your bike box.

Make sure your airplane layovers are >45 minutes.

Train with rice balls, race with rice balls. My stomach felt awesome for most of the race.

Smile. It’s proven to trick yourself into having fun.

Don’t take yourself too seriously. Wearing a Wonder Woman outfit was the best decision I made.

Be thankful for the friends and amazing community you’ll develop along the way.

Once you reach race day, the work is complete. Enjoy the experience and celebrate everything you have already accomplished!

Know your limits and know your mantra

You can’t do this.

Stop. Quit.

The voices in my head screamed. This water wasn’t cold. It was frigid: an ice bath.

I submerged my entire body. My arms went numb and heart rate soared. My face burned as if it had been submerged in acid.

I hadn’t doubted myself this much since I learned how to swim. Since then my confidence in the water skyrocketed. I never thought twice about swimming. And this race — in a reservoir, with no waves or saltwater? Piece of cake.

Not so much.

The gun went off. I stood there.

Move!

I waded in the water, walking along the edge.

Swim!

I thrust my body in and managed a few strokes.

Everything went numb. I stood up again. Anxiety enveloped every part of my body. I could barely breathe.

You can’t do this.

Yes, you can. Move. Just keep moving.

I tried again. And again. And again.

Blood started to flow through my arms. I couldn’t feel them, but they no longer burned.

1500 meters later I swam furiously towards shore. I found the bottom, stood up, and ran. I left the icy water and found wonderful, dry sand.

I couldn’t feel my feet. But I didn’t care.

In endurance races, there is a fine line between laziness and injury. This line was blurred during an Olympic distance triathlon I completed last winter in Palm Springs.

With the air temperature nearly 20 degrees warmer than the water, I had legitimate concerns: a pending anxiety attack, or worse, hypothermia.

Experienced endurance athletes know their bodies inside and out. They know what it feels like to safely push past their threshold. They also know what an imminent injury feels like. They train for weeks, months and years to develop this skill.

I’m getting better at this. But I’m still figuring it out.

I made a judgement call during the Palm Springs race. Living in Southern California, I tend to naively assume every day will be 75 degrees and sunny. But it’s a desert, and sometimes it gets fucking cold (I only own “warm weather” triathlon clothing). I had never trained in 37 degree weather. I could have gotten seriously injured. But the decision not to quit — despite wanting to desperately — was the right one.

Yesterday I completed my third Olympic triathlon. It was hard. I dread running, especially after a 1500 meter swim and hilly 24 mile ride. My legs ached in places I didn’t know existed and my right foot fell asleep to the point of numbness.

I fought through it, repeatedly telling myself:

You’re almost there.

It didn’t matter if I really was. I told myself this after two miles — only a third through the run. And again at three — half way! And again at four and a half. The last mile I said it out loud to myself and anyone I passed.

Mantras are a clever way to propel past what is usually emotional pain. I came up with you’re almost there on the spot. Most experienced athletes develop their own.

Jessica Hardy, Olympian and former world-record holder in the 50m and 100m breaststroke, tells herself:

I am stronger than ever.

My triathlete buddy and marathoner Billy uses a special mantra to get through races. He visualizes a devil on his shoulder telling him he should quit, that he’s not good enough.

To which he replies:

Back up, bitch. I’m about to finish this.

This tricks his mind into thinking he’s almost finished, even if he isn’t. As soon as he recites it, he plays a pump-up song in his head — EDM or hip hop — to fuel his adrenaline.

In his words, this combo is a powerful 1-2 punch combo to counter any doubts that enter your mind.

Endurance sports are half mental. All it takes is knowing your body, your limits, and your mantra.

What’s your mantra? Share in the comments!

You know, those days where you know you *should* go for a run, but the couch / bed / computer / fill-in-the-blank is FAR more enticing? We’ve all been there. I’m sure even professional runners have their struggles with motivation from time to time.

Platitudes about achieving your running dreams are nice, but in the moment they do little to actually get your butt off the couch. What DOES work for me are some simple strategies that trick my stubborn little brain into getting moving. Here they are:

1. Just put on your running clothes. Don’t even think about what comes after — just get changed and put ‘em on. Putting on running clothes, it turns out, is quite easy. You got this! Now, once you have them on you can make the call on whether you want to put them to use, or just flop back on the couch. Who wants the guilt of lazing about in running clothes? Not me.

If you’re trying to do a morning run, an effective strategy is to actually wear your running clothes to bed. That means there’s one less step for you to deal with in the morning, and one less reason to hit the snooze button.

2. Give yourself an out sometimes. Yes, you read that correctly. We sometimes make grand running plans that can seem insurmountable when it comes time to start. When I’m about to launch on a 3 hour run, running feels like the last thing in the world I want to do. Once I’m actually running that usually changes — usually I find my stride, get absorbed in my surroundings, and that long run is over before I know it. But some days that’s not the case. Some days the run never becomes easy for whatever reason. That’s okay. On those days, you can give yourself an out. Decide your minimum viable run that proves to yourself that you tried — a mile, a few minutes, whatever. Usually once you’re going, the run isn’t as bad as you expected. If it’s still not working for you once you’ve reached your minimum viable run, then at least you got out there! Kudos for getting off your couch and giving it a try. Just make sure you get out there tomorrow and go for it again.

3. Run to a destination. The day I first realized I could run to the beach and back was a revelation for me. My run was no longer defined by miles or time — it was defined by the cool place I was going to get to see on my run. The destination was a built-in reward for my legs’ effort.

Start getting creative with destinations to make your runs more fun. Run to a friend’s house. Run to the nearest post office (or the post office across town). Run to that new restaurant you drove by the other day. The possibilities are endless.

4. Give yourself little rewards to work towards. Giving yourself something tangible for the good work you’ve done can give you the recognition you need to keep going. That something should be supportive of your healthy habit, rather than destructive (stay away from cookies and potato skins as rewards). Stick with healthy options, like downloading a new workout song, buying new running socks, or getting a massage. You can make the goals very short term (e.g. if I run 5 miles today, I’ll reward myself with a bubble bath), or slightly longer term (e.g. if I run 4 days this week, I’ll get myself a new pair of running shorts). The rewards can be small and simple — just make them something you’ll enjoy. And be honest — if you don’t complete your goal, you don’t get the reward.

5. Find a running buddy. This is by far one of the best motivators out there. If someone else is relying on you to run with them, the stakes for skipping a run are that much higher. There are a few tricky details to figure out — you’ll want to find someone who wants to run the same pace and distance, and you’ll need to sync up schedules. But those details are usually easier than you imagine. I’ve found running buddies among coworkers, friends, and running clubs. You’d be surprised how many people are happy to find someone to run with.

6. Write it down. First, make a plan of your runs for the week, and write it somewhere. The act of writing your plan down makes you commit to it. You should get specific — define your goals in terms of miles, time or destination (see #3) so you know what you’re working toward. Then keep track of your runs in a log or diary so you can see what you’ve done and how you’ve improved. The dual benefit of accountability and tracking progress make writing runs down an effective tactic.

7. Sign up for a race that scares you. Nothing motivates quite like fear. If you have a marathon (or half, 10K, or 5K) on your calendar staring you down, then your training plan is no longer an option. You have to get out and run if you don’t want to die on race day (or at least feel like you’re dying).

The above strategies work for finding motivation on multiple levels. They get you out and running in the moment, but they do more than just that. They can make your runs feel more purposeful and rewarding, creating an intrinsic motivation that’s more self-sustaining. By using one or more of the above, I hope you’ll find that running is less of an obligation and more of a source of joy.

What do corporate storytelling and endurance sports have in common?

When I’m not slaving away as Editor-in-Chief at Group Digital for the Dutch health and well-being company Philips, you can usually find me in a swimming pool, on my bike, or running around the parks and paths of Amsterdam. That’s right — I am, for my sins, a triathlete.

And, clichéd though it sounds, triathlon is more a lifestyle than a sport. When I’m training for an Ironman (a 3.8km swim, 180km bike, 42.2km marathon) it can mean dedicating up to 20 hours a week to training. As you can imagine, therefore, I start to view the rest of the world through the lens of triathlon. Even my job.

“But what does content marketing have to do with triathlon?” I hear you ask. Well, more than you might think.

Part 1: The swim/ Strategy

For most triathletes, the swim is the least enjoyable discipline. It’s technique-driven, requires attention to detail, and is fairly unglamorous to train for. Just like content strategy. A brand will never become famous for exciting, innovative content thanks to its content strategy, but without doing the groundwork, you’ll be playing catch up throughout. At Philips, we have a dedicated content hub, which is where all our content marketers and community managers can find our detailed content calendar, playbooks and guidelines governing all our social platforms and third party partners, as well as extra details such as a tool to guide markets in choosing platforms to suit audiences, and contact lists.

There’s a well-worn saying amongst top-level triathletes that goes something like “You can’t win it on the swim, but you can certainly lose it.” I’d apply that just as much to content strategy.

Part 2: The bike/ Content creation

This is where the glamour does lie. It’s fast, exciting, involves lots of shiny new gadgets and designs, plus it looks great as triathlon bike courses, especially those here in Europe, inevitably weave their way across some stunning countryside. As the longest part of any triathlon, it plays an enormous role in how your race is going to turn out and, therefore, usually takes the most focus in terms of time and resources.

Sound familiar?

Content creation is where a brand spends much of its time and budget; it’s the make or break part of the process where you build on solid strategic foundations to set yourself up for final success.

That said, many cyclists ride too hard and forget that they still have to run off the bike — don’t make the same mistake and dedicate all your attention and resources to this part of the process, without bearing in mind what’s to follow.

Part 3: The run/ Content delivery

“You bike for show and run for dough,” is what they say in Ironman triathlon, and it’s just as true in the modern corporate newsroom as it is out there on the course. It doesn’t matter how great your content is if you can’t deliver it perfectly to the finish line — the target audience.

From SEO (to be fair, that should be considered while creating the content too) to having well-defined, engaged communities on your social media channels and a wide publishing ecosystem with clearly- outlined themes and areas of interest, the delivery channels have to be laser-targeted, strategized and continually nurtured to make sure, when you do have killer content to deliver, you can do so in the smoothest and best way possible to exactly the right audience.

To be successful in triathlon, you have to think of yourself as a complete triathlete — not somebody doing three separate sports — and that approach holds water in the content marketing world too.

However, all athletes, and brands, have their traditional strengths and weaknesses and the triathlon adage of “working harder on your weakest discipline” is one that all brand content teams would do well to put into practice.

Matt Warnock is Digital Editor-in-Chief for Koninklijke Philips N.V. He has a background in journalism and publishing and has lived and worked in France, Spain and the UAE, but now calls The Netherlands home. Away from work, he’s an endurance sports nut who competes in Ironman triathlons and ultramarathons.

And How It Taught Me to Live a Good Life

After having some time to really reflect on Ironman Los Cabos, and how the experience shaped out, I wanted to lay out some of the things I learned along the way which I found important, and can be applied to any passion project a person may seek to accomplish. In a nutshell, completing this race was absolutely glorious. The finish chute was a blur of afternoon sunlight and mental fog, but it was absolutely glorious. Will I do it again? Absolutely. What did I learn? Read below to find out.

1. We human beings really are capable of more than we give ourselves credit for — Yes, I know it’s cliche, and we can read this any number of times a day on inspirational Facebook posts, but it’s also very true. We tend to give up too quickly or too easily. By our very nature, we are conditioned to conserve. Conserve our pride, conserve our welfare, conserve our energy. In other words we are conditioned to be “safe”. After all, as we evolved we had to develop mechanisms to keep ourselves from harm — to run away from Sabertooth Tigers, or survive through cold winters or famine. I’m certainly not endorsing those, but there are ways that we can channel those additional stores of energy in non-stressful ways (I want to stress “non-stressful”) to go the extra mile in any endeavor with which we are involved.
2. Understanding and acknowledging our limitations is a beneficial exercise — Is number 2 contradicting number 1? Yes!… In a way. But you see how I mentioned channeling energy in non-stressful ways (I guess I want to re-stress my stressing of “non-stressful”). That is where understanding our limitations can benefit us. We all know how we feel when we hit a brick wall. Our energy immediately depletes, we lose sleep, we get sick, we get irritable, we crave sugar (ok, that one is tough to gauge). When I felt any of these symptoms during my Ironman training, I knew that it was my body telling me that I was pushing too hard. When that happened I had to take a step back and make rest my priority, refresh my mind and body, and recover the passion and energy I had for pursuing this goal. Often times the best offense is a good defense. Additionally, knowing our limitations gives us a good indication on where we can improve, and whether it makes sense to refocus our energy in more positive ways.
3. “No pain, no gain” is some of the worst advice ever given — In fact, pain is most often an impediment to progress. Alternatively, some of the greatest gains happen with little or no physical pain, and very little discomfort at all! When I first began training using heart rate as a guide, I didn’t even feel like I was working out at all. I barely broke a sweat, pulling 11-12 minute miles on runs. Gradually the pace improved and the effort felt much the same. It’s only with the greater gains that more discomfort becomes required, the “last 10%” so to speak, and even that should be done sparingly. It all comes back to understanding limitations. Pain is different from discomfort. Our ability to suffer through discomfort is part of a growing experience. Pain, on the other hand, is biofeedback telling us that we are overdoing it and have to take a step back. This advice would be better read as “No pain, KNOW gain!”
4. We can make the experience of achieving a goal much more fulfilling by finding a way to be in service to others — When I first considered training for an Ironman, I thought of all the hours I would have to put in, the money I would have to spend, and the emotional capital I would expend and it made it seem like a very selfish endeavor. To be fair, it was. I was looking to better myself. But how can we benefit others unless we focus first on improving ourselves (something about removing the plank from one’s own eye comes to mind)? In my case, I chose to set an example for those that may have always thought of achieving a far reaching goal, but who may have talked themselves out of it numerous times (after all, I was like that). I wrote about it openly in the hopes of inspiring others through my experience. This requires conquering the fear of being vulnerable (spoiler alert: that’s number 5 below). Additionally, I raised money for charity to hold myself accountable to the goal. After all, it is much more difficult to quit when times get tough if you have more eyes on your progress and a charity goal depending on your achieving the goal.
5. The experience can become more meaningful if we can conquer the fear of being vulnerable — I used to be a bit of a cynic, often becoming critical and nay-saying in many situations. I now understand that that was a defense mechanism for me so that I would not be the subject of criticism. If I can be critical of other peoples’ desires to fulfill a dream, I could justify my own lack of inspired confidence. Too often we put up this armor of cynicism, and neglect the great potential for self improvement that comes from being vulnerable. Brene Brown is an expert on vulnerability, and goes into great detail of it’s importance in this TED talk and in her book, Daring Greatly. Making myself vulnerable by writing about my experience, especially at the beginning when I had no experience whatsoever, made me extremely uncomfortable. However, it made the experience of getting to my goal and achieving it that much more meaningful.
6. You CAN find the time — Yes, you can. No seriously, you can. I know you have kids, I know you have a job, I know you have that thing on Thursday nights (I’m not stalking you, I swear). Regardless, the time is there. It’s just about inventive time management. I know waking up earlier is hard, but that is a solution. You can also take your lunch breaks at work to focus on the goal. The point is that there is always a way to make the time. Within my training plan, I had to find 20+ hours a weak during the peak weeks to train. I would wake up earlier, use my lunch breaks, and use the actual commute to work to work in training hours. I still found time with the family and took care of all my obligations (in fact my family appreciated it more because I was setting a good example).
7. The right perspective changes everything — I know what it’s like to fall into a downward spiral of despair and self loathing. The feeling that everyone is against you and the hard work is meaningless. These are the great demoralizers. The worst thing about these feelings is that they are overpowering, and they feel absolutely legitimate. However, I have found in my life that these are mostly problems with perspective. I’ve learned through this experience that, for me, one of the big differences between being happy and being miserable is my perspective. When I turned my negative attitude around and focused on the positive, things became much brighter. Ironman training was a great practice in perspective. Instead of saying things like “I have to run today”, I would say “I get to run today”. How lucky am I, that I am capable of getting myself up every day and working toward a dream? Truly we are fortunate if we allow ourselves to believe we are, and overcome the power of negative thinking.
8. Humility is vital — There will be setbacks. There always are. Many times these setbacks may seem like a death nail into achievement of a goal. But when these setbacks occur, it is important to practice humility. Allowing our egos to get in the way of clear thinking will only make the situation worse. For example, as I was training during the summer months last year, I hit a plateau which wouldn’t allow me to get any faster at my assigned aerobic heart rate range. This gave me two options. Run faster and train over my heart rate range (which would have potentially destroyed my training progress to that point), or humble myself and keep it slow. Sure, I wouldn’t be able to run as fast as I wanted at that point, but checking my ego would allow me to be faster at that heart rate over the long term. A setback, yes. But the long term goal was still on track. Eventually I broke through the plateau and got faster. Humility ties a lot of these things I learned together in a nice little bow. Accepting limitations, practicing vulnerability, finding the right perspective, it’s all about humility.
9. It’s worth it — Whatever “it” is, as long as the effect is positive, it’s worth it. Because “it” is important to you, “it” will build your character, “it” will give you fulfillment beyond your expectations, and in turn the act of achieving “it” will inspire others. And when we inspire others, we can inspire ourselves, constantly improving, always reaching toward higher and more lofty goals. An upward spiral. Take it from me, you can.

You can read more about my Ironman journey at www.trifundracing.com