The Plant

When I won my first big international race in London 2010, the Canadian Olympic Committee sent a plant to my house in Edmonton.  “Congratulations on winning the triathlon!” said a little piece of paper perched inside.  It was a subtle gesture but it made a big impact on me. It was the first time that I thought “Hey, maybe I could actually make it to the Olympics one day!” The COC had recognized my performance, and I thought that was the coolest thing ever. The plant soaked up the sun on the kitchen windowsill while I was busy racing around the world, and my mom watered it every day. Keeping the dream alive.

Two years later, I made it to the start line at the Olympics. Lots happened between that breakthrough race in 2010 and getting to London in 2012. Some great things and some terrible. The plant lived through it all. Serving as a reminder that someone believed in me, representing an Olympic dream, and being a nice thing to look at in the window.

After several years of sitting in the kitchen, the plant had become a part of the house. One of those things you don’t really notice every day because it’s always there. But yesterday morning, I went down for breakfast and there was a big empty space on the windowsill.

“Daaaaadddddd where's the plant?!”

“I threw it out. That thing’s been dying for like 11 months. Plants don’t live forever.”

My dad likes to throw out everything that doesn’t have a clear function, without even asking. It’s annoying. 

I pretended to be cool with it. That plant had a pretty good life. I’m not generally a superstitious person, but I couldn’t help being a little superstitious at the whole situation. This plant, that somehow represented my Olympic dream and triathlon ambitions, was dead and gone.

“It’s a good thing! It hasn’t exactly done you any favors these past few years.” My dad kindly reminded me.

He’s totally right. Even though it’s a little sad to see it gone, I think the luckiness that it once had as a baby plant had run it’s course.

Time for a new plant. Comeback 2014 starts yesterday. 

August Already?

It’s fun to write updates when things are going well and the season is unfolding somewhat as planned. Writing an update when things are not going smoothly, and haven’t for 2 years, is not so fun. I’ve wanted to write a blog for a while, but have been putting it off with the hopes that I might have something positive to share for a change. It would be cool to post a blog on August 4th, exactly one year since the Olympic triathlon in London, writing about how I turned myself around and made a comeback to the racing scene. Unfortunately this year has been no easier than last. If I ever get out of this injury rut, I’ll never take racing for granted ever again. 2013 has been about rebuilding, and I knew that it would not be an easy road back, but I never imagined that it would be so ridiculously hard.

After a good winter camp in Florida with the JF squad where I was running consistently, I was looking forward to racing and improving as the season progressed. Before my first scheduled WTS in San Diego, my left hip started hurting, the same familiar pain that I felt in my right hip before London. I stopped running immediately, pulled out of the race, and knew that if I was smart I could get through it quickly. I knew how to manage it, because it was exactly what had happened on the other side.  As usual things didn’t go how I imagined. Week after week, I wasn’t seeing much progress. Now all of a sudden it’s August, the season is almost over, and I’m on the sidelines.

It might seem like I’m spinning my wheels, doing the same thing over and over, expecting a different outcome (which Einstein calls INSANITY). But I have tried dozens of different approaches. Being treated the best physiotherapists in the world, visiting run gait analysis labs, reducing training load, doing a billion strengthening exercises, stretching, rolling, icing, magic tricks, etc etc etc. I'm doing everything that I possibly can. 

It kills me to think about packing up and going home to Canada and taking a break for a few months. I know that’s probably what I need, but it’s definitely not what I want. I’ve done way too much hard work this year, especially in the pool and on the bike, and I feel like that would all be gone to waste. Looking at the “big picture” it’s not really a complete waste. I’ll take the strength and skills that I’ve developed this year into next season and the season after that. But I’m sick of being patient, sick of being positive, and sick of being injured. During my quick rise to success in 2010, everything came seemingly easily. Winning back-to-back WCS races was really cool, but I don’t think I quite understood the magnitude of that accomplishment at the time. I was just training hard, and the results came along. Looking back, I now appreciate how awesome that was. I sometimes watch videos of races that I’ve won, in a desperate attempt to restore some sort of confidence in myself, and I’m so incredibly jealous of the 2010 Paula. I want to be her again!

I’m still the same human, just a little beat up and emotionally hurting, but nothing that can’t be mended. I want SO BADLY to get back to that person who was winning races and training consistently. I don’t know how long it'll take, or if it's even possible. I thought that I’d be well on my way by August 2013, but life is so incredibly unpredictable. I’m going back to University this fall, so that will give me a change of focus for a few months. I had my best seasons ever when I was a student/athlete, so perhaps that’s the change of routine I need to get back on track.

Thanks to everyone who has supported my training and rehab this year and who continue to believe in me, especially coach Joel and my awesome training partners. You're a super inspiring group and I'm seriously honoured to be a part of it. To everyone who is lucky enough to be racing this summer, remember that it’s a privilege to be able to swim, bike and run. It’s easy to lose sight of that when things are rolling along well. So be happy, work hard, and appreciate that your body is working like it should! 

Thanks for reading. 

PF 

Stay Hungry Stay Foolish

Hey there!

The last time I wrote on here my dad was pretty sick and I’m happy to say that he’s doing great. I went for a run with him a few weeks ago and I was breathing too hard to sustain a conversation, which actually made me really frustrated. Maybe I’m extremely unfit or maybe he’s a superhero. Let's go with the superhero thing, plus we were at altitude which totally makes it harder. 

I spent most of December in Arizona at a training camp. It was a great opportunity to escape the cold and do some exercising in the sunshine. Joel has set up a fantastic group of athletes and it was neat to be living with all of them for 3 weeks. I have so much to learn from their wealth of experience. I left Arizona feeling a little more fit, a little more healthy, and ready for Christmas in the mountains. Canmore is the best little winter town and makes me the happiest of all places.

After a good few weeks at home I’m back in the swing of things in Florida, where I’ll be living for the next few months. The hardest part about training right now is I feel like I’m never going to be as fast as I used to be. The last time I raced fast was almost 20 months ago which is a really freaking long time. But, it’s not long enough to forget what winning feels like. It’s the most satisfying, exciting, indescribable feeling in the world. I want to do it again and that's what keeps me going. 

It’s also taking me a while to re-discover the fun of training hard. When I was winning races, training was really enjoyable. Did I race well because I was having fun, or was training fun because I was racing well? Probably a bit of both. It’ll take a lot of hard work to win another race, and it definitely won’t happen if I don’t find some enjoyment in the process. I can’t really force myself to have fun, but I’ve put myself in the best possible situation to let it happen. Great coach, inspiring people and a sweet place to train. 

Happy 2013 everyone!

When the Going Gets Rough

I’ve spent a lot of time over the past few months wallowing in self-pity, which is a completely useless and selfish emotion. It doesn’t make anything better, it doesn’t solve problems, and it doesn’t change the past. Stepping up and making changes is ultimately what makes things better. And having a little perspective, that helps too. Sure, the past year has been rough, but my definition of rough is having a sports-related injury and having low iron and not winning an Olympic medal. In the real world, that’s not rough. Rough is having your home destroyed by a giant hurricane, or being Lance Armstrong, or having cancer. We found out a few weeks ago that my dad has cancer in his colon. He’s going in for a big surgery tomorrow to try and remove it. This would usually be considered a self-pity worthy situation, but recognizing that this is not a productive emotion, he’s decided not to wallow in it. He’s keeping an optimistic attitude while suffering only the occasional grump-attack. But we'd all have grump-attacks surviving on a diet of jell-O and apple juice. His situation has forced me to take a new perspective on the past year. No matter how hard I hit rock bottom, my rock bottom wasn’t really that bad. He's showed that optimism and positivity are powerful tools when the going gets rough. Cancer sucks, but if anyone can beat it then this guy can! 

ABC Thank You's

I probably had the most awesome 2012 triathlon season ever in the history of the world. Ha, just kidding, it was dreadful. But through it all, I had some fabulous people by my side.  Since my season has come to an end, I have a lot of Thank You’s to give out. One night when I couldn’t sleep I started making a Thank You list in my head. In alphabetical order. Sorta like counting sheep. I finally snoozed off thinking about all these great supporters of mine. And it was a fabulous sleep indeed. 

A is for Air Canada, thank you for getting me safely to all of my destinations (mostly) on time and (mostly) with all of my luggage, and for letting me ride at the front (mostly) every time.
B is for Bikes, and Specialized makes the fastest, nicest, lightest ones on the planet.
C is for Champion Systems. Pulling on my Canada suit always gets me pumped to race.
D is for Dad, who just drove my car 4000 km across the country for me. Superman! (Ps. Dad if you’re reading this I'm ready for you to drive it back now).
E is for EVOC bike bags, keeping my bike safe when I'm on the go.
F is for my fabulous Family and Friends. All of the most important people in my life.
G is for General Mills. Being on the Reeses Puffs cereal box is probably the raddest thing that’s ever happened to me.
H is for Helper and Michelle Comeau, you are one fantastic helper. Thanks for making my life easier and being so understanding of my ever-changing plans.
I is for Immunity FX. 2 pills a day keeps the doctor away.
J is for Jon Brown, super coach, thanks for taking me on in the lead up to the games, and for doing every single run workout alongside me.
K is for Kim Ward, massage therapist extraordinaire, and Dr. Keeler, who did everything he could to help me get better.
L is for Lasik MD. No more contacts wooo!
M is for Marilyn, hands down the best physio ever. Would not have been on the start line in London without you.
N is for Nike. Best shoes, best clothes, best people. Game on world.
O is for Own the Podium, thanks for making sure I had everything I needed to be my best. Sorry I couldn’t be my best this year.
P is for Proctor & Gamble. Your support for my awesome mom and me, and for all Olympic moms across the world, is tremendously appreciated.
Q is for Quarq, my power meter. Always reliable. Love-hate relationship.
R is for Rogue, the fastest most comfortable wetsuit ever made. Thanks, Nineteen.
S is for Sables. Magic fog-proof superhero goggles.
T is for my hardcore Training Partners, I couldn’t get out the door and push myself every day without you guys.
U is for United Cycle, my bike shop in Edmonton. They gave me my first bike 6 years ago and have supported me since day one.
V is for Vitamins. Sometimes I think 7 Systems saves my life.
W is for Whitfield. Thanks Simon for being my friend and big brother and mentor and training partner. You're a hero.
X is for the fluorescent X Spidertech tape that held me together when I was broken.
Y is for YOU! All of you reading this who reached out and supported me when all I wanted to do was hide away from the world.
Z is for Zipp. These. Wheels. Are. Super. Fast.

Thanks. I couldn't do what I do every day without you all.  

I’m on a serious mission to make you a little more proud next year.

Paula

A Series of Unfortunate Events

This was the name of my favorite book series when I was younger. It’s the story of the three Baudelaire children whose parents are killed in a fire and are placed in the custody of their evil cousin who plots terrible schemes to steal their inheritance. Seemingly everything that could possibly go wrong, goes wrong. Sounds dark and horrible but is somehow charming and entertaining.

With every negative situation that I’ve faced this year, I feel more and more like the Baudelaire children, having a continuous string of unfortunate events block my path. Slightly less dramatic since my parents did not die in a fire and I don’t have a cousin trying to kill me, but similar nonetheless.

I came home from the Olympics feeling upset and directionless after my disappointing experience. A few days later I had a generous offer from Craig Taylor at the RTC in Guelph to train with his group and get ready for the World Championships in October. It was the perfect opportunity to try something new with a refreshing change of scenery. Craig and the group here have been fantastic, and Guelph really is a lovely place to train. What an awesome bunch of happy, positive people.

I had some blood work done about a week after I arrived just to make sure that everything was normal. I was feeling tired but assumed this was just an effect from training hard again. Unfortunately the numbers came back with some of the lowest iron levels that the doctors had ever seen. It is a simple but quite serious problem that likely had a huge impact on my race in London, and got overlooked because of the focus on healing my injury. The fact is that it is not really possible to continue to train at the level I need to in order to have the result I am looking for in 6 weeks. I’m devastated and frustrated that I can’t have a shot at another race this season. I was hoping to restore some confidence in myself after the Olympic disaster. I guess this will have to wait until next year.

I realize this is fairly private medical information that I’m sharing, but a lot of people are asking what my plans are for the rest of the season. Iron deficiency anemia is something that a lot of athletes struggle with and it is a fixable, treatable problem. For now I need to focus on what I CAN do. Some good lower intensity base training while I work on getting my iron and energy levels back up. This might actually be a good thing, establishing a good foundation for next year so that I can come back strong and healthy. Liver for dinner, yes please!

At the end of 13 horrible wonderful books, the Baudelaire children eventually overcome their misfortune and the author Lemony Snicket leaves off with this:

“At times the world may seem an unfriendly and sinister place, but believe that there is much more good in it than bad. All you have to do is look hard enough. And what might seem to be a series of unfortunate events may in fact be the first steps of a journey.”

Keep a good outlook, and a series of unfortunate events may not be so unfortunate after all. I knew these kid books were good for something! Thanks Lemony Snicket.

Onwards and upwards…