Kiwi In Training

One of the most common questions I heard prior to leaving Canada was Do you think Mikaela will develop a Kiwi accent? This seemed a highly unlikely possibility since she would continue to spend most of her time with me, the most she/ could hope for were some grammatical errors to drive Dave crazy. What I didn't account for, was the variation in her vocabulary as a result of our time in New Zealand.

A few months ago, Mikaela started referring to the bathroom as the toilet. This is not unheard of in Canada, but we do seem to prefer the more polite term. As I strive to make the toilet training a strife-free experience, in the desperate hope that she may (again) embrace the idea someday, I changed my vocabulary to be in sync with her daycare. I would ask if she needed to go to the toilet or make wees. This morning, she went one better, and referred to garbage as rubbish. With the hiring of a part-time Kiwi nanny last week, I wonder if she'll soon be calling the living room the lounge, her stroller the buggy, and searching for her togs to wear to the pool. On the day she exclaims Sweet As, I'll know she's been officially converted.

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=sweet%20as

One Down, Two to Go.

I've longed for the day that the first trimester would be done; in my mind, that would signal the return to my normal life. The one I left behind seven weeks ago, it was filled with energy, exercise, and tasty food. So I now sit, twelve weeks and three days, and its not here yet. There have been many improvements over the past couple weeks, but I'm an impatient gal.

In the meanwhile, I'll have to settle for the knowledge that baby Stachon is progressing normally. All expected appendages were accounted for in my ultrasound yesterday and I saw the heart beat. Six weeks until my next appointment, and only two more trimesters to go.

Ironman Dave

If your husband ever asks to do an Ironman, say No! Do not be lured in by the fact that you think it's kewl. Do not be distracted by the fact that you think it's an incredible accomplishment. And most of all, do not be encouraging because you want to say you're married to an Ironman ;-)

As early as September, I would occasionally catch Dave surfing the Ironman New Zealand websites. I'd be giddy with excitement, was my husband going to an Ironman? Arguably one of the most difficult fitness events in the world, and one that I sadly have determined I most likely could not complete within the seventeen hour time limit...but Dave, Dave could stomp on that time limit. As December dawned, he wavered in indecision. I loudly encouraged from my corner, ignoring all his cons and focusing on the one pro that mattered - bragging rights. Ultimately, he committed to the event and the first of many outlays of cash began - $750 entry fee.

These are the reasons not to allow your husband to do an Ironman :-)

• He rises at 5 am most mornings to train and expects you to be cheerful and supply french toast on his return.
• He needs new running sneakers, new running gear, and new livestrong sunglasses. His aerobars and wetsuit need to be shipped from Canada.
• He must rent lighter, faster disc wheels and while you're paying for that, why not spring for the aerodynamic helmet too.
• He spends hours working and reworking his training plan, colour coding his weekly totals. In addition to the hours spent training, there are the hours spent trolling the triathlon forums, assembling his gear, and wishing he was able to sleep. Insomnia seemed an active participant in Dave's training.
• He is constantly stretching and massaging himself post-training, often reeking of his spearmint Anti-Inflame goo.
• He analyses every sniffle and soreness with excruciating detail trying to determine if his Ironman is in jeopardy. And despite my genetic predisposition to not be sympathetic, he expects me to reassure him repeatedly that his Ironman is indeed not in jeopardy.

It was with disappointment that Dave noticed I was pregnant, his first clue was that I no longer rose to make him french toast. He began whineing to his mates that my pregnancy was really impacting his Ironman! Luckily, my mom has been visiting and managing to feed us all and keep his training gear laundered.

The Bonita Ironman New Zealand took place this past weekend in Taupo; for the uninitiated, an Ironman consists of a 3.8k swim, a 180k bike, followed by a 42.2k run. Yes, that would be a marathon.

Race day began for us at 5 am, Dave ate his french toast and then hopped around awaiting the time to go. As I was trying to squeeze a few more moments of shut-eye, I suggested he conserve some of that energy for the race course but he could not be still. By 6 am, I'd dropped him off at the changing area and began to make my way to the lakefront for the mass start. There were literally thousands of spectators there, as 6:30 am approached a long waka (canoe) full of Maori warriors made it's way chanting across the lake to encourage the days participants. For some reason, this image would trigger the first of many emotional moments for me. These 1500 participants have trained for months and they have made many sacrifices to get to that start line. My eyes welled up with tears and my throat becomes tight as I watch them enter the water, some may say its the pregnancy hormones but the quiet anticipation in the crowd seemed to indicate that I was not the only person having a moment. There were 453 first-timers in the field, and my heart especially went out to them as I envisioned the perseverance they would need as they navigated the world of hurt that awaited them on this day.

At 7 am, the cannon fired and they were off. It was a sea of blue and green bathing caps, thrashing and advancing. Inevitably, the field begins to string out until it literally cuts a single line over a kilometer long. One by one, the participants emerge from the water and begin the long run to the first transition zone. As I cheer along this progression, the slogan ordinary people doing extraordinary things is exemplified. It is with relief that Dave emerges from the water well within his predicted time, I'm rewarded with a smile for my 'Go, Poobah Go'. As he makes his way to the transition zone, I join the line of supporters peeling away from the swim exit to secure their spot along the bike route. At 8:28 am, my spandex-clad husband emerges and again, my cheers are rewarded when he sees me along the route. For some reason, this acknowledgement of my presence makes me feel useful and I hustle off to locate Mikaela for the next cheering location.

As a spectator, you are bound by estimates. You never know exactly when to expect someone, you have estimates but there are so many variables on the course that it is by no means an exact science. If I was childless, this would probably be a moot point. I could have happily stood at the side of the road cheering all day, as it was, I tried to limit the time I subjected Mikaela to my wild cheering and clapping. At 11:01 am, Dave blew by our cheering station with a big smile. He was ahead of schedule and would lose this advantage on the second lap, but all the same, it was a pleasure to see him. Three hours later, he made his last foray past us on the bike approaching the 180k mark. The run was two laps, this was the difficult stage to estimate. Dave's plan was to run eight minutes and walk two minutes for the first 30k, then to bring it home at a full run if he was feeling strong. I made my way to the turn around point for 4:15 pm and waited. It was an exciting time to be at the turn around point, as it also served as the entry to the finishing stretch. Although I had missed the first few elite men, I did get to witness the first three women and several of the later elite men. They were incredible, so strong and so happy as they ran down the final stretch of cheering crowds to the finish. At 4:45 pm, Dave made his way past us - only 21k left to go.

For the finish, I wanted Mikaela with me. I returned to fetch her and my parents for the final leg. Since it had taken Dave 2:30 to complete the first half of the run, I optimistically planned to arrive for his finish two hours later. For various reasons, I was almost fifteen minutes late arriving. As I was making my way towards the run course, my Dad says "there goes Dave". It can't be, but as I look, it certainly looks like Dave and if I don't sprint to the finishing stretch, I'm going to miss him! I abandon Mikaela to my parents, and take off. I'm taking the camera out of the bag as I go, I manage to make it to the finishing straight and snap a picture of him. I run a bit further and try for the standard shot with the clock in the background. I'm pleased to see that he's done, his first Ironman and a sub-twelve hour finish! And I succumb to the final emotional moment of the day, I laugh, I cry and then I notice the lens cover is still on the camera!

For all my big talk, I'd support Dave again and again as he trains for any type of event. If you've ever witnessed me watching Dave as he performs with the symphony, you'll have a good idea of the amount of pride I feel right now for my Ironman. Congratulations Poobah :-)

For the more technical review by Dave, you can check out his posting on one of those afore-mentioned triathlon forums:

http://forum.slowtwitch.com/gforum.cgi?post=2236832