Training Triathlete Overtaken By 5-Year-Old On Training Wheels

It was a hot and humid July morning when Sara took to the Great Guernsey Trail for a 14-mile bike ride. In town for the holiday weekend and with a race just eleven days away, a training ride couldn’t be missed. She accessed the trail on the western end just east of Cambridge, unfortunately, having to walk her bike the first quarter of a mile due to a construction vehicle backing its way to the parking lot. 

Once she cleared the work zone, she mounted her bike, clipped into her pedals and was off. It was a beautiful ride through the wooded countryside. She appreciated the shade the trees provided and was grateful for the bench at the turnaround where she sat just long enough to capture a photo and drink some water. Seeing some wildlife, a couple other bikers, and numerous runners and walkers, it was a busy trail, but not too congested that it slowed her down. After less than an hour she returned to her car and loaded up to go retrieve her training partner for the second sport of the day. 

Although Lilianna incessantly tried to invite herself along on Sara’s ride, the answer was no. She was quite frustrated that she wasn’t allowed to ride her bike alongside Sara especially given the fact she knew she would be riding on the trail as opposed to a road. In a plea bargain, it was decided that Sara would ride first and then return to pick up Lilianna and together they would go to the city park where Lilianna would ride her bike while Sara did a training run. 

At first everything went well. Lilianna rode down the trail while Sara ran alongside. They pointed out things they noticed along the way - flowers, a couple of turtles, a few guys riding lawn mowers off in the distance. They enjoyed the warm sunshine high above them and each other’s company. Lilianna made it to the end of the trail which was actually further than Sara anticipated, but as they made the turn to head back, things took a turn for the worse. It began when Lilianna asked for water. Apparently, in the excitement of picking up Lilianna and getting her bike in the car, they forgot to bring along any water. Thankfully, Lilianna, now more interested in water than the bike ride, said it would be okay to just ride and run back to the car and head home.

As they made their way back, Lilianna kept her little legs pedaling, but about halfway back, it was clear she was growing impatient with the distance between her and the car and so she kept trying to pedal faster. As they neared the end, she pedaled as fast as she could and she began to pull ahead. Sara just couldn’t seem to keep up and she watched Lilianna move further and further away from her and closer and closer to the final destination. Lilianna didn’t stop until her bike came back to the spot where they began and as Sara finally brought her run to a stop and joined her near the car, Lilianna immediately said, “You would have been able to keep up if you were on your bike.”

This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click here to view the next post in the series "Breaking News".

The Race That Wasn't, But Maybe Will Be?

I swam on Monday and I ran too. 

I cycled on Tuesday before my personal training session. 

I had a swim lesson on Thursday. 

I ran on Saturday and Sunday, and swam once more on Monday.  

On Thursday the governor announced the closure of schools and I ran that evening to process the news.

I met with my personal trainer the next morning for what would be my last time. 

I swam the next Monday knowing it too would be my last, with gyms being ordered to close.

That was the beginning of March 2020. Ohio came to a close just 19 weeks before my biggest race yet - the Ohio 70.3. I had been swimming, biking, running and strength training all with this particular goal in mind until it all came to a sudden stop. Even if I were to keep running and biking outdoors, I knew I couldn’t do that distance of a swim without the lessons and pool time. My plan to participate in this race evaporated almost overnight. Months later the race was canceled as well.

After spending half a year in the midst of a global pandemic running and biking sporadically, I decided to train for my first marathon. I didn’t have a race in mind, but instead planned to run 26.2 miles the day before my 36th birthday. It would keep me focused and moving throughout the winter. And it could provide the base I would need for my now deferred Ohio 70.3.

I ran 58 miles in December 2020 followed by 113 in January and 114 in February.

I ran in the wind, rain, cold, ice and snow. I ran in layers. I ran with yaktrax.

I ran four times a week and I did not miss a single run on my training plan - that is until the last week of the month. On a 40 degree February day I ran 8 miles fast, apparently too fast. That evening, as I walked down the stairs after my shower, I noticed some pain in my right ankle. It was enough for me to notice, but not to cause alarm. The next day, on an almost 50 degree day,  I ran 5 miles, much slower, with a little bit of pain at first that increased as I went. By the end, I was a little hurt and I was a little concerned. I took the next three days off from running, skipping that week’s long run. On the last day of February, a day where the temperature almost reached 60 degrees and my ankle was feeling better, I ran 5 miles. My pace was solid and I felt good - until that evening when I again walked down the stairs and could feel the pain even more than before.

With just four weeks until my first unofficial marathon, my doctor advised me to stop running for six weeks and to work with a physical therapist. I did as the doctor ordered, aware that this too would keep me from not only running a marathon, but would also make showing up to the Ohio 70.3 startline really difficult. I eventually decided that goal race was still not to be. 

Physical therapy went well. I saw my homework exercises as a training plan all its own. I worked hard. At the end of 6 weeks, I was released to run a quarter of a mile and slowly build from there. The running wasn’t hard, but finding my drive seemed impossible. Being goal oriented, I registered for a sprint triathlon as motivation to train again. It worked some days and other days it didn’t. I trained the most sporadically I ever have. I swam at our local pool occasionally. I biked somewhat frequently. I ran the most the week leading up to the race. The sprint tri was hard, the swim the hardest part of the course. I was most confident on the bike. The run I just kept shuffling one foot in front of the other. Crossing the finish line was a humble moment. I was grateful I let the goal race go for another year. 

I didn’t run again for two and a half weeks, but I had another race event yet to come. In the midst of pretending to train for the sprint triathlon, I sought out a coaching program to help get me ready for the Michigan Ragnar which I was committed to running to support an organization I deeply love. When I signed up, I was really excited about having a solid plan to follow again and loved the additional community that was a part of this program. But it didn’t go well. I attended the first coaching call, but only a couple of others that followed. My one-mile time trial was exhilarating as I pushed myself around the local track, but that runner’s high didn’t last long as I didn’t go on to run either of the 5k time trials. My ankle pain slowly reappeared, a little at first, sometimes not at all deceiving me into thinking I was good, until I ran too hard again. I contemplated for weeks whether I could do the Ragnar, but I knew because time didn’t matter for the team, I could - even if I had to walk 16.5 miles - which thankfully I didn’t have to do. My pace was slow, slower than it’s ever been for a race, and yes I walked some of that 600 feet in elevation, but I did it. 

Then I didn’t run for a week. Then I ran four times in one week. Then I didn’t run for two. On again, off again is how my running went through the end of the year. When I realized that my ankle was winning, I decided it was time to switch years. I showed up to my local Y in the middle of November for the first time since March 2020. My body didn’t pick up where it left off, but in some ways, my mind did. My goal that first week was to show up and swim three times. I have continued swimming consistently averaging 3-4 times each week. I am working on my form. I am making improvements. I hope I am getting quicker. Just like I was when the gym shut down. 

As I move into the new year, I am swimming. I am again working with a physical therapist. I am working on strength and will begin to add cycling soon. Eventually my running will return. 

I still have my goal - Ohio 70.3 - now in 2022 - now in a new location.

But I’m not hooked like I once was. At first I was lamenting the missing desire.

Now, I’m okay with this season being whatever it might be. 

Perhaps this race will be the one that is or it will be the one that is no longer meant to be. 

***This post is part of a blog hop with other runner-mother-creatives. Click here to view the next post in this series on running, mothering, and making.