The Edge

Competitive sport at the highest level is all about finding the edge. How far you can push your limits, how close can you get to that line, without falling over into a world of injury and breakdown. That perfect spot, where boundaries are tested but you’re still standing upright - that’s where magic happens. If you don’t take risks and teeter on the edge, you’ll always be safe, but you’ll probably never achieve greatness. The edge is always changing, and is different for each person. Sport is evolving. Bodies are unpredictable. Circumstances and surroundings are dynamic and often out of your control. This is what makes competitive sport a beautiful, frustrating, demanding, and adventurous pursuit. 

What happens when you fall over the edge? Let me tell you, it’s damn hard to get back to the top. Climbing all the way up to try again, without being sure if you’ll ever get it right. Success is never certain, and you are entitled to nothing. You learn so many things along the way. Finding different routes to the top, and building a team of people to support the long journey. The most difficult part is trying to keep a positive attitude when it can seem like an endless and sometimes hopeless mission. 

I’ve fallen over the edge this year. I saw glimpses of progress with a top 8 finish at the London WTS event in May. But I pushed myself too far, excited by my step forward and craving more. I developed a knee injury which led to foot injury on the opposite side, probably through compensating and trying to train through the knee problem. I cannot make this mistake anymore, which is why I decided not to race in Edmonton, and I won’t line up in Chicago at the World Championships this week. Instead, I’m going home to Canada for a scope on my knee, I’ll get healthy, start from the ground and work my way back up once again. I also made a recent coaching change. Siri Lindley is a remarkable person. Her positivity and determination was what I needed this past year. She brought me back from one of the lowest points of my career, made me believe in myself again, and gave me the courage to take charge of my own path. I’m so grateful to have had the opportunity to learn from Siri, a champion in so many ways. Siri gave me exactly what I needed, but now I need something different. Sometimes change is a good thing, and after a frustrating season I want to give myself the best chance of lining up in Rio next summer. 

So here we go, a journey back to the top, with more tools in my toolbox, some new support around me, with a refreshed and motivated mindset. I’m in no rush but I also don’t have time to waste. Why do I keep doing this crazy sport? Because it would kill me to quit now and live with regret, knowing that I have it inside me to do great things. I love pushing my boundaries, getting close to the edge, trying to be the best that I can be. No matter how many times I get knocked down, the fire still burns, and I’ll keep fighting. 

A giant thanks to everyone who's been a part of my 2015 season: Siri, Erin Carson, Byron Thomas, Mark Plaatjes, Libby Burrell, Sue Lott, Paddy McCluskey, my FABULOUS training partners, mom & dad, and to Nike, Scott and ROKA for sticking by my side. 

Cheers and thanks for reading. 

PF 

Stand Up Eight.

To be completely honest, I was ready to stay lying flat on my face after about the 100^th fall. But I decided to pick myself back up for the 101^st time, and I’m so glad I did. I’m not really sure what kept driving me to get back up after each setback that I’ve had. My frustration and sadness far outweighed any desire I had to continue training. But for some unknown reason, I kept getting back up, and giving it another try.

After my most recent injury, a pelvic stress fracture diagnosed in May,  I contacted Siri Lindley to ask if she would be interested in having me join her squad. One last try, I thought to myself. I was going out of my comfort zone and straying from the advice of a few people by packing my bags and coming down to train in Boulder. But I knew the second that I spoke with her that if anyone was going to get me back to racing, and loving the process, she was the one. Thankfully, she was willing to take on this disaster! 

It has been such an overwhelmingly positive change, I can’t even begin to describe it. My spark is reignited, her intense passion for the sport and for each of her athletes is contagious, and she makes me excited to train every single day. I started progressing my running on the AlterG treadmill as soon as I got to Boulder, and we’ve been successfully managing my comeback ever since.

I raced at the World Championships in Edmonton a few weeks ago, after only about 3 weeks of running on the ground, and it went much better than I expected. I had a great swim and bike, up with the lead pack, which is not easy especially after a long time away from that level of racing. My run was about where I expected with minimal training, and my first 10k in almost 2 years! I finished in 15^th place, which is not something I would usually be celebrating, but I crossed the line feeling like I’d just won the race. It was a huge step for me. I was healthy, happy, and racing like I belonged in there, all in front of a hometown crowd. There's nothing better - (except actually winning). 

A week later I raced in Las Vegas at the Super Sprint Grand Prix triathlon. It was a unique format of 2 mini-triathlons back-to-back, in a pool and on a fast 1km loop course, with heats in the morning and finals under the lights at night. Unfortunately I got sick the night before the race with a massive sore throat and cold. The prelims went well and I was going into the final with the fastest time, but my body was pretty run-down by 8pm that evening, and I felt terrible diving in for the final. I tried to pretend that I was feeling fine, but 6th place was my best on the day, which wasn't too bad after all! It was an incredible experience racing in the middle of Las Vegas under a dark sky. 

I'm back in Boulder now, continuing to build up my running and getting ready for 2 more World Cup races in October. I know the season is over for many, but I feel like mine has just begun. I'm encouraged by my recent results, and my confidence is slowly coming back. Sometimes you need someone to tell you that you're doing freaking awesome... and Siri is really good at that. Being in a happy place is the most important thing, I've realized, and with that, great racing will come. 

Thanks to everyone who is still following my journey, and especially to Triathlon Canada, Nike, and Specialized who have continued to support me through the rough times. It's so refreshing to write a blog post reporting good news, and I truly believe that the best is yet to come. 

PF 

Thanks to Jordan Bryden, Slowtwich, Nils Nilsen, and Jeremy Brown for the photos. 

Update

When I crossed the line at the New Plymouth World Cup in March, I had an extremely intense pain high in my adductor. I could not walk without limping, and thought that I had probably strained a muscle. Frustrating, since my training had been rolling along nicely. I started slowly running about 4 weeks later, convincing myself that the pain was decreasing, but in reality is was a stabbing pain with every step.  I had an MRI to confirm the diagnosis, and the scans showed that I actually have a stress fracture in my pelvis. It never even crossed my mind that this could be a bone injury. Before the scan, I stupidly ran 10k around Elk Lake when my pelvis was screaming to my brain “STOPPP I’M BROKEN DOWN HERE!”. Athlete minds are pretty powerful when it comes to ignoring these screaming signals of discomfort. This can be a great tool in the middle of hard training sessions or races, but in this particular case I was ignoring my fractured pelvis telling me to stop pounding on it. Not awesome.

In the midst of this disaster my coach Joel Filliol parted ways with me. Fortunately I’m in Victoria where I have a smart team of people who are helping me though my obstacles. I’m really grateful for having the opportunity to work with Joel over the past few years, I’ve learned so much from him and the amazing athletes in his squad. I’ll really, really miss it.

So, I’m in a pretty rotten situation. Not that this is new to me, I have lots of practice dealing with setbacks. I feel like I've posted a similar blog about 16 times now. I've cried all the tears out my body, so I’m left to figure out logically what to do next.  A few people have questioned my motivation and enjoyment of the sport. Sometimes it's freaking hard to find enjoyment in the day-to-day environment when struggling with a stubborn injury, or not seeing fitness return as quickly as you want it to. I read a great tweet the other day:

I've been out on my bike recently with no clear timeline of when I’ll be able to race again, but still loving it. I do enjoy the day-to-day process. I have no lack of motivation. Actually, I'm more motivated than ever. It felt so good to toe the line at some early-season races, and it made me hungry for more. Sometimes being an athlete is more frustrating than other times, but I can honestly say that I love it. That’s primarily why I continue stick with this when the light at the end of the tunnel is seemingly so far away. I know it’s there somewhere. Bones heal. I believe I can do it, and most importantly, I’m happy doing it. I'm determined not to let these setbacks derail my whole season, or my whole career. 

On a positive note, here are some fun things I've been doing over the past few months. Thanks for still reading my bad-news blog, I promise I'll be back posting race reports eventually!

PF

Shawnigan Lake 

Underwater treadmill running 

Swimming in 12 degrees C

Breakfast with Mark Cavendish (kind of) 

Riding in the Specialized wind tunnel 

Riding in the sunshine 

Riding on the ferry

Vitamin D

Visits from the other red-headed Findlay 

Dog sitting this guy 

A Reminder to Myself, Mostly.

I was out for dinner with my friends when the Auckland WTS race was going on. Refreshing my twitter feed every 1.5 seconds, checking the live results, nervous, anxious, palms sweating, and ultimately being a really bad dinner guest.

When the race was over, I was overwhelmingly envious. Longing for the times when I was in the mix and so jealous of everyone who had raced well. One of my friends (in the picture below), a medical student who is familiar with a competitive environment of high achievers, sensed my jealousy and told me something VERY important.

You have to be happy when other people are happy.

If we are constantly jealous of others, we will never be happy. We need be motivated and encouraged by the success of others instead of loathing it. Most people probably do this already, but it certainly does not come naturally to me. My first instinct is to think, “UGH, I wish it was me”!

So, I’ve decided to work really hard at this. It’s definitely not easy, but I can honestly say that it’s making me happier. Other people’s successes do not take away from my own, and they can be used as motivation to achieve my own lofty goals. Whether this is in sport, or in school, or just in every day life, I’ve realized that jealousy doesn’t serve anyone well. 

Take joy in other people’s accomplishments. Use them to inspire you. It’s simple, but maybe the best advice I’ve ever had.

PF  

"Reciprocal Inspiration"

Two of my biggest mentors in sport are Simon Whitfield and Adam van Koeverden. They have 6 Olympic medals between the two of them, along with countless other incredible achievements. Adam wrote the forward for Simon’s book: Simon Says Gold. In it, he coins the phrase “reciprocal inspiration”, and describes it as this:

“When one person’s accomplishments live on and encourage more people to believe in themselves and accomplish their own goals. As I see it, there are three incredible features of this phenomenon: it doesn’t expire, it can be shared among an unlimited number of people and it has the capacity to cross genres and disciplines”.

Simon was inspired watching the men’s 8 crew win gold at the 2008 Beijing Olympics, and soon after won a silver medal in triathlon. Adam was inspired watching Simon's thrilling sprint to a silver medal, and went on to win a medal in kayaking. Reciprocal inspiration.

I’ve been thinking lots about this idea during the past 2 weeks as the Canadian team competed in Sochi. Watching sports that I can’t necessarily relate to. Bobsledding, figure skating and ski jumping have few similarities to triathlon. However, we share a common goal in achieving the Olympic dream, pushing ourselves to the limit, and ultimately being the best in the world at something. I feed off of the success and determination of others, especially when I’m feeling tired, slow, or unmotivated. Training beside an Olympian, watching someone win an Olympic medal, hearing about someone's epic training session - those things fuel me.

The definition of reciprocal is “given by each side”.  I only hope that some day I can return my end of the deal, inspiring others as much as I draw inspiration from all of these superstars.

Bravo winter Olympians. The Dufour-Lapointe sisters, Denny Morrison, Alex Bilodeau, Roz Groenewoud, both hockey teams… there are way too many to name. I look up to you and you were incredible to watch. Thanks for fueling my fire. 

Thumbs up! 

PF

New Year

“It’s a long way where we’re going”.

-5 year old me, on a 12 hour road trip.

Back in 1994, we didn’t have iPods or laptops to entertain ourselves on long road trips, so we spent hours whining and sleeping and counting cows. It felt like we might never get there. "It's a long way where we're going" was my world famous tagline.

I’ve said this same thing to myself many times this past year as I’ve been building back into racing shape. Trying to be like I used to be, do what I used to do, and feel like I used to feel.

My season started last year with winning a small Continental Cup race in Florida. I found some relief and confidence in myself with my first win in nearly 2 years, but I certainly didn’t anticipate that this would be the only race of my season. I wanted that to be the kick-off for bigger and better things. I didn’t expect another roadblock, a season plagued with injury, sitting on the sidelines.

Consistency, confidence and competition. Those are 3 things that I’d like to achieve in 2014, in that order. Each one must come before the other. I need to train consistently to gain confidence in myself so that I can compete to my ability. If I can achieve all of these things, I’ll be a giant step ahead of where I was in 2013.

Sometimes I forget the underlying reason why I do triathlons in the first place. I’ve never thought of it as a career, or as something that I had to do. I trained and competed because I loved pushing myself, challenging myself, and being the best I could be. This translated into success, which made me love it even more. This past year I’ve sometimes lost touch with this true love for the sport. I’ve been battling with a body that seemingly doesn’t want to get healthy or be fast, so frustration overtakes the passion I had for being my best. 

Through these rough patches, I find strength and inspiration in other athletes, in particular those who have gone through injury spells and returned to greatness. It has been done, many times. I’m living vicariously through the winter athletes preparing for Sochi, sensing the excitement and pressure during the build up that I felt 2 short years ago. I truly don’t know if I’ll ever get back to where I was in 2011, but one thing is for certain: it’s a long way where we’re going. It won’t be an easy journey, but nothing worthwhile is ever quick and easy.

I’m heading to New Zealand this month to join Joel and my training partners as a new season begins. I just finished a refreshing semester at University, recharging my brain, returning to good health, being with friends and family, and preparing myself for the year ahead.

Here’s to a 2014 of achieving goals, being patient, and embracing the process of becoming better. Long roads are usually worth the trip, because they take you somewhere great. 

PF 

Well isn't this the nicest thing ever!

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…

I’ve had this quote on my computer desktop for the past 6 months, and because I spend way too much time on my laptop, it’s engraved into my brain. It was my mantra when the going got tough, and believe me, the going got pretty darn tough. A simple but important reminder to ignore the noise, stay positive and just keep on truckin’ through all the roadblocks.

Getting to the start line on August 4^th was a feat in itself. Injuries, appeals, coaching changes, politics, and a less than ideal time frame to get into race shape. Despite all this, I wasn’t headed to the Olympics just to participate and call myself an Olympian. I wanted to be on the podium. I was aware that my chances of accomplishing this were significantly lower after my difficult year, but it never lessened my desire to be the best. I lined up against 54 of the worlds fastest triathletes wanting to beat them, and believing that maybe I could. If I didn’t believe that it could happen, then there’s no way it was going to happen. (Yeah I know, it didn’t happen).

I had a fairly solid 8 weeks of training behind me and was feeling fit. My injury was gone and I was running more consistently than ever. What I didn’t anticipate was that the lack of race-specific experience would really hit me hard. I started the swim feeling good, thinking that I was in okay position, but after getting trampled at the first turn buoy there was a sea of girls in front of me. I didn’t lose hope, this has happened before in races that I’ve won, but it’s not a good feeling to know I’m not up where I need to be. I came out of the water well back of the leaders, got on my bike to chase and had no power in my legs. I worked with a few other girls to catch the pack in front of us, but we couldn't. I contemplated pulling out of the race several times on the bike and it felt like the longest ride I’ve ever done in my life. It’s a big mental challenge to stay in the game when you’re so far out of the game it’s not even funny. I came off the bike to a similar wobbly, powerless feeling, and stumbled my way around the first lap. I pulled off to our team doctor, crying that there was no way I could physically finish 3 more. He encouraged me pull myself together and finish if I could, I’d be more satisfied with crossing the line than not. So I ran 3 of the most painful, embarrassing laps ever, being lapped by the race that I was supposed to be a contender in, humiliated and screaming at myself inside. It was the Canada flags along the course, my family in the stands, and the roaring crowd that pulled me along to the finish line. 

An enormous thank you to coach Jon Brown, physio Marilyn Adams, massage therapist Kim Ward and the one and only Simon Whitfield who were my amazing little team for the past few months. I couldn’t have got to the start line without the huge efforts from each of you. Thanks to Triathlon Canada and Own The Podium who made sure I had all the resources I needed to get to London. And finally thanks to my wonderful family and friends who came to London to support me. Check out this awesome crew!

The outpouring of support has been touching and overwhelming, and I appreciate it more than you know. My race aside, the Olympics were an incredible experience. I’m so inspired by our Canadian team. What a bunch of champions and I’m honoured to have been a part of it all.

I need to make some changes and I’m not entirely sure what the next few months have in store for me. I think I’ll keep that quote on my laptop for now. Never give up, finish what you start, and keep on believing.

Thanks a million to you all.

Paula

Happy Canada Day!

With the Olympics less than a month away this day seems even more special this year. It’s exciting to see everyone celebrating this awesome country that we're fortunate to call home. It truly is the best place on earth and I can’t wait to wear the maple leaf when I line up to race next month. 

Training is going great right now and I’m in a good mindset. As always there’s outside noise and politics and distractions, but I’m keeping my blinders on and just doing a good job in training every single day. It’s been a crazy few months, but I have a smart and supportive group of people who I trust and who have my back. Regardless of what’s going on around me, I’m confident that I’m doing everything I can to be the best I can be. And that's all I can do. 

So cheers to my fellow Canadians! Have a happy, patriotic day, and keep your Canada Flags handy. You're gonna need them in a few short weeks when we’ll all be waving them high and proud once again. 

Go Canada.