Riding Up Cypress Mountain for a Challenge and Charity

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Triathlon, for me, often feels like a selfish act. I train to get faster. I work out for my mental health. For my physical health. Because it’s my hobby—my escape. I race to beat my last time, to check a box, to prove something to myself. Most of what I do, I do for me. And I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.

We’re often told that everything we do should serve a greater good—that if something doesn’t benefit others, it’s not worth doing. But there’s value in doing something simply because it lights you up. Motivation matters. Not everything needs to be for something.

That said, sometimes tying your effort to something larger than yourself is exactly what keeps you going. When you’re exhausted, or stuck, or unmotivated, a deeper purpose can pull you through.

Pain can drive you, too.

A month after my dog Michael passed away, I ran my first half marathon. I was overwhelmed with emotion at the finish. It hurt to keep going—but I kept going, and it meant something.

Michael’s death was sudden. 

I’d gone out for a swim that rainy evening, and by the time I got changed and rushed home, he was already gone. We learned he had an undetected tumor near his heart. It burst, and within hours, he was gone. There was nothing we could have done.

I still think about how I was off training—doing something for myself—when he left.

We only have so much time to do the things we want to do. Life is fragile—and it’s not just death that can take things from us. Injury, burnout, financial hardship, obligations—they can all pull us away from the life we imagined.

In stoicism, there’s a phrase for this: memento mori. Remember, you must die. When you carry that awareness with you, it creates urgency. You want to make the most of each day.

This summer, I signed up for a few races leading up to my second Olympic-distance triathlon. I’ve got two open water swims and my first-ever bike race: the Cypress Challenge, a climb up Cypress Mountain. It’s not just any ride—it’s an event that raises money for BC Cancer and brings attention to pancreatic cancer.

Any contribution is deeply appreciated. Donate here!

Now, please enjoy a couple of hill repeats with me up Queen Elizabeth Park, on this beautiful cherry blossom day.

Enjoy the ride.

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Training for a Triathlon With My Rescue Dog: Our First 5K Run Race Together

I knew triathlon training this season would be tough, but you never really know how tough until you’re in it. One thing that’s made this block especially challenging is Petey, our new rescue dog. He’s well on his way to becoming a great, obedient training partner, but the fear and stress from being abandoned on the side of the highway and his time in the shelter don’t fade overnight. We’re working with him patiently, step by step.

Our goal is to eventually leave him home alone for a few hours, but we’re not there yet. While we could leave him with someone we trust, we’re still nervous—especially about how he might react early in the morning. As devoted helicopter dog parents, we’re trying to strike a balance. Sadly, the world can’t stand still and wait. 

Right now, that means adding Petey’s training to mine. Alongside preparing for my race, we’re also helping him get used to new experiences so he can join us at the event. We decided the best approach—for me, my wife, and Petey—is to go to the race together.

We know the environment could be overwhelming for him, but with gradual exposure, a little structure, and a lot of treats, we think we can make it a positive experience.

So, we set up a trial run. I signed up for a 5K at Rocky Point in Port Moody—the same place my wife and I got married. It’s a special spot for us, and now it’s tied to a new memory: Petey’s first race.

It was a small, inaugural event, which meant fewer people and a manageable crowd. After a warm-up walk, I headed to the start line while Petey busied himself sniffing a bush. Then it was up to my wife to keep him company—and for me to focus on the run.

I didn’t have a strict goal going in—this was mostly about training Petey—but I figured, why not aim for a personal record? My last 5K in 2023 was 25 minutes and 2 seconds. Those 2 seconds bugged me. So anything under 25 felt like a solid target.

I did it! Finished in 24 minutes and 1 second. Just shy of the minute mark—next time, maybe. Still, it was a strong run, especially on a hillier course than I expected. That’s a great sign heading into my upcoming sprint triathlon.

And Petey? He did amazing. Which really means my wife did amazing. She kept him calm the whole time I was running. A few months ago, having him in this kind of environment seemed out of the question. But today gave us hope. It was one more step closer to having a life filled with fun and adventures.

Of course, this was just a test—a short run. A triathlon is a whole different beast: longer, more chaotic, and way more logistically intense. It’ll be a challenge. But that’s the point, right? 

Thank you for joining us on this run. I’ll see you in the next one. 

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Good Endurance vs. Bad Endurance, What to Push Through In Triathlon Training and Life

When we talk about endurance sports, we often hear about battling through pain. So much of the sport is about pushing our limits, and it’s in that process where we truly improve. When it gets hard, that’s when we’re challenged. That’s when we discover who we are. That’s when we endure.

That’s when we prove to ourselves: we are not quitters.

Don’t be a quitter.

Of course, this mindset isn’t just for sport. We can bring that kind of endurance to every part of life. Don’t give up on what you started. Follow through on what you said you’d do. As a creative, I know that struggle well. How many projects have I started only to abandon them halfway through?

In life and in triathlon, endurance is everything. When things get hard, scary, or painful, we have to push through. We have to keep going.

During this training block, I faced plenty of challenges—not just tough workouts, but all the resistance that comes with the sport. There are always reasons to stop.

Lately, I’ve been finding it hard to get on the bike for long rides. Not just because of the weather, but because of my schedule. This season doesn’t really allow me to be away for hours. And sure, I don’t need that long of a session for a sprint triathlon, but I still feel like I should be putting in the time. My new dog, my new job—life has been full, and it’s been keeping me off the bike.

But I’m still enduring. And enduring sometimes means problem-solving. Last year, I relied on Zwift for convenient indoor training. When it stopped connecting to my bike, I tried Rouvy. But I wasn’t riding enough to justify the cost, so I cancelled.  I thought I just had to tough it out with nothing but numbers on my watch, but that’s unnecessary suffering. I signed up for MyWhoosh last week, and suddenly, my excitement for biking returned.

Things go wrong. Equipment breaks. Problems arise. We have to endure that, too. This is the good kind of endurance—the kind that builds patience, confidence, resilience. Not just physical strength, but mental strength too.

Recently, my GPS watch started glitching. After just a year, the battery drains quickly, and the elevation tracking stopped working. I’m working with support to fix it, but it’s frustrating. When my gear isn’t working, my motivation drops. I love collecting data—tracking workouts, measuring progress. When the metrics are off, everything feels off. It’s like playing hockey with dull skates. But I kept going anyway. And good news: I discovered Strava has a “Correct Elevation” feature, so even if my watch is wrong, I can fix it.

This is what endurance really looks like—dealing with the little things. Because when you don’t deal with them, they pile up. It’s like cleaning your house—if you clean as you go, it’s easy. If you don’t, it becomes a mess. Maybe even a hoarder-level mess.

Good endurance is good habit. It’s confidence. It’s delayed gratification.

But not all endurance is good.

Bad endurance is ego. It’s pushing through when you shouldn’t. It’s training through injury. It’s ignoring your mind and body. It’s refusing to fuel or rest properly. It’s bottling up your feelings. It’s not asking for help when you need it.

Bad endurance is thinking you’re strong for holding your hand to the flame. Sure, it might impress someone in the short term—but long term, it only burns you. Physically, mentally.

Bad endurance is staying in toxic relationships or jobs. It’s putting up with bullying and gaslighting. That kind of endurance doesn’t make you stronger—it chips away at you. It erodes your confidence. It delays your healing.

After everything I’ve been through these last few years, I’m learning what’s worth enduring and what isn’t. What makes me stronger, and what just does damage. What’s worth waiting for, and what isn’t.

Triathlon is an endurance sport—but that doesn’t mean you should endure everything. There’s good endurance, and there’s bad endurance.

I remind myself of this whenever I feel like quitting. I take a moment to reflect on what’s really stopping me. Am I avoiding a problem I could solve? Am I just making an excuse? Or am I actually being fair and reasonable with myself?

That said, training is going well. After a few speed bumps with my health, I’m feeling good. So I’m trying something new: riding across the Lion’s Gate Bridge into West Van, down to Ambleside Beach. It was my first time doing that route, and let me tell you—the descent off the bridge is way steeper than I expected. But I stayed calm. I didn’t stop. I managed the panic.

And that, to me, is good endurance.

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Old Challenges and New Challenges of Triathlon Training

This is my third year training for triathlon. So many things that once felt new now feel like routine—but that doesn’t mean they feel old. A training plan stretches across months, and because life keeps moving—your schedule shifts, your body changes, the world changes around you—none of it ever stays the same. It’s like that saying: you never step into the same river twice. Even if the actions—swimming, cycling, running—are familiar, the route, the time of day, the body you’re moving in… none of it is exactly as it was before.

My body is in constant flux. Some days it’s tired, others it’s fresh. Sometimes I ache. Sometimes I feel strong.

Life throws a mix of old and new challenges. Things I’ve done before and continue to refine, and things I’m encountering for the first time. This season, like clockwork, allergies hit me hard. Hay fever, maybe a cold too—right during the week I had off before starting a new job. Not ideal timing.

The new job has been exciting—a fresh challenge, new systems to learn, new people to meet. It’s energized me, but it’s also demanded my focus, and that’s meant training has taken a back seat some days.

And then there’s Petey, our new rescue dog. It’s been three months now, and while he’s adjusting well, he doesn’t exactly make triathlon training easier. Every day is a puzzle of syncing his needs with mine and my wife’s schedules. On top of that, we’re trying to figure out what to do with him on race day—we don’t think we can leave him alone for that long. Ideally, we’d bring him with us.

That means, in a way, he’s training too. We’re slowly getting him used to more stimulating environments—other people, other dogs—but more importantly, we’re helping him get used to me leaving him. That’s been the hardest part. On walks, if I duck into a store or step away, he panics. So we’re working on that—teaching him to stay calm when I leave, helping him understand that I always come back. Patience, consistency, and making those moments feel safe are key.

There’s a lot going on. At times, more than I feel I can juggle. Priorities shift day to day. But strangely, all of this has helped me stay present. When I do get to train, it feels even more meaningful. Something I look forward to. Something that feels like mine.

I’ve done triathlon before. I’ve even raced this upcoming course before. But nothing about this season feels the same—and that’s what makes it thrilling.

Like today. I’m riding out to Burnaby to do what I call the Brentwood loop. I grew up in Burnaby North—a suburb just outside Vancouver—and this area is so familiar to me. But every time I return, something’s different. New buildings, new shops, new roads—but also, pieces of it stay the same.

Things shift—over years, over days, even from one moment to the next. One second it’s sunny, the next it’s raining. That’s just how it goes.

So: enjoy the ride.

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Balancing Work, Weather & Workouts | Bike Ride From Mount Pleasant to Lumberman’s Arch, Vancouver

Fitting in my training these past few weeks has been a challenge. I’m transitioning jobs, which means juggling handovers and prepping for the new role. A part of my responsibility for the role I’m exiting is coordinating a video project, which means spending a couple of days on set. Add in waiting around for new gear deliveries, and my schedule has felt pretty out of my control.

And if that wasn’t enough—cue the bad weather. An atmospheric river is rolling through, so outdoor training? Not ideal. Plus, a few of my usual pools are closed for annual maintenance, making swim sessions even trickier to fit in.

With all this chaos, my training has definitely taken a backseat. But I’m still managing two workouts per discipline each week, thanks to a whole lot of flexibility—constantly shifting my schedule based on time, energy, and what’s actually available. Sometimes, that means doubling up on workouts.

Over the past couple of weeks, my biggest workouts have been a 30-minute run test and an 800-meter swim test. I covered 5.65 km in 30 minutes, averaging a 5:19 pace on the run. For the swim, I finished 800m in 17:47, which breaks down to 2:13 per 100m.

As for the bike… I should probably do a new FTP test. My Coros watch says 204 watts, and that seems about right—but it wouldn’t hurt to check.

Right now, swimming is easily my favorite—it feels like a little escape. Since it takes some effort just to get to the pool, by the time I finally dive in, everything else just fades away.

Running, on the other hand, is the sport I’m squeezing in wherever I can. It’s the easiest to be flexible with, so I just fit it in when and where it works.

And cycling? Honestly, I’m not loving it lately. Between the weather and fatigue, I’ve been stuck riding indoors at night while my dog sleeps, and it’s just… boring. Not being able to ride outside hasn’t helped either. Hopefully, that changes once things settle down.

But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that flexibility is key. Not just for training, but for keeping triathlon sustainable with real life. Sometimes, that means doubling up—on workouts and daily tasks. If I’m driving to swim, I’ll grab groceries on the way back. I’m running or biking, I’ll plan a route that lets me run an errand.Training isn’t just about squeezing things in—it’s about making my life flow.

And flexibility isn’t just about right now—it’s about the whole year. It’s easy to stress about hitting every workout when it’s scheduled, but going too hard too soon leads to burnout. Right now, I’m just getting used to this new training load, setting a new baseline, and making sure that I can sustain this pace for the rest of the year.

This ride is a good example of all that. I biked from Mount Pleasant to Lumberman’s Arch in Stanley Park to help my wife return a race tag for a half marathon. It was a fun ride… until I had to weave through the seawall mid-race. But hey, that’s all part of being flexible.

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Finding Control in the Chaos, Week 1 of Triathlon Training

Finally back on the bike, and it feels so good. Starting a new training block, having a race to aim for—everything feels right. Even when the world seems like it’s spinning out of control, it’s such a relief to focus on my training. For a brief moment in this crazy life, I feel like I can take control back.

I remember why I started triathlon. Two years ago, during one of the darkest times in my life, I made the decision. It was the beginning of 2023, as we were finally coming out of the shadows of Covid and the world began to reopen. I had been locked up, living in a five-block radius, working in a windowless room. I was focusing all my energy on my creative projects and work, but it felt like the hours spent in front of a computer screen were slowly suffocating me.

I literally noticed that I was holding my breath for long periods while writing a stressful email or attending a Zoom call. 

I lost 20 pounds. Looking back at pictures from that time, I was so thin and sickly that there’s no other way to describe it but to say I felt bad—physically and mentally bad.

Change is nothing new to me. I’ve gone through phases in my life. If you had asked me in 2019 if I’d ever do any of the three sports in a triathlon, I would’ve laughed it off, made a joke, and everyone would’ve been laughing along. But no, triathlon wasn’t even on my radar.

So how did it come to this? Before Covid, travel was my source of excitement. It was a huge part of who I was. I took two or three trips a year—flying on planes, exploring new places, tasting different foods, paying in different currencies. That was my thing.

When Covid hit, that travel bug was crushed. And unlike the cockroaches that can survive an apocalypse, the travel bug didn’t really come back. Sure, it would be fun to travel again, but I no longer had that intense desire. But I still needed something to look forward to, something I could work toward. I needed an activity that would regularly take me outside the house.

My wife became a big source of inspiration. She’s been a marathon runner for years, and she’d always tell me about the places she ran to. It blew my mind that, as a hobby, she could end up in totally different parts of the city. I wanted that for myself.

Triathlon turned out to be the perfect sport for me because it’s three sports in one. Training for a marathon means repeating the same activity every day, but triathlon is varied. Every day is different, and I love that.

Little by little, I started learning the three sports, having never done any of them before. The progress is steady, but it’s happening. What I love about riding, running, or swimming is that at the end of each session, I return home. Work, whether creative or professional, often feels like an endless grind. But sports have a sense of closure—a run, a ride, a swim, and then it’s done. And I feel good.

That good feeling has been a lifesaver these past couple of years. Life isn’t always easy, of course. But on a sunny day, when I’m out on a ride like this one, preparing for something ahead, it gives me a sense of hope. It’s a personal journey, but it fills me with a simple desire to keep living.

The world can be a scary place. There are people out there who aren’t kind. And when you’re on a bike, you sometimes feel that—like you don’t belong, or you’re in someone’s way, or even that you’re breaking the rules — when you’re not! But that’s just life. Even when the world wants me to feel bad, I don’t. I feel good.

Today’s a good day. This week’s a good week. And it’s the start of something great. We’ll get there. For now, I’m riding Ontario Street in Vancouver, one of the main north-south corridors that takes you from the seawall downtown to the Fraser River on Marine Drive. From there, you’re just a stone’s throw from the airport. This is my first time riding all the way south—a 65-block journey. Enjoy!

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Don’t Beat Yourself Up | The Week Before My Triathlon Training Begins

The weather’s been rough lately, and on top of that, finding time to exercise has been a challenge. But all is good because my quote unquote training plan hasn’t started yet, and if there’s ever been a moment to get my life in order before it kicks off, it’s now.

In these videos, I often find myself reminding me to keep going, to stay consistent, and to push through even when things get tough. But today, I want to highlight something that’s crucial and often overlooked: not beating myself up.

I have a tendency to be hard on myself in many areas of life. I expect a lot, and I think that’s tied to some of the childhood trauma I’m still trying to work through. Whether it’s work, family, or especially my writing, I can be my harshest critic. When I played hockey as a goalie, I would get furious with myself for every save I missed. But I’ve gotten much better at giving myself grace, especially when it comes to triathlon training.

I think the reason for that is that I always approach it with the mindset of “I’m still learning, I’m still improving,” and it’s something I genuinely enjoy. As an adult, when you start labeling yourself as a professional, expert, or specialist, there’s often this expectation that you should have all the answers, solutions, and the ability to fix or improve everything. But the reality is, even with skills and experience, not everything is within your control. The world is constantly changing, and we need to adapt.

That brings me to where I am right now: building out my 12-week training plan for the sprint triathlon in May. The race will be a 444-meter swim, a 17.6 km bike ride, and a 4.9 km run.

The plan won’t be anything too strict or complicated. My goal is to do two runs a week: one hard interval session and one easy run. I’ll also swim twice a week using the Form goggle workouts, which I’m really enjoying. For biking, I aim for two rides a week—one intense and one more relaxed. Ideally, I’d like to get outside twice a week for the bike rides, and I might even throw in an extra fun ride over the weekend. Lastly, I plan to do a weekly bodyweight strength workout.

Last year, I finished the race in 1:20:55, with the following splits:

A Swim in 11 minutes and 32 seconds. 

A bike in 45 minutes and 40 seconds, including both transitions.

And a run in 23 minutes and 44 seconds. 

I think it’s definitely possible to cut a minute from each discipline—at least that’s the goal. But if I don’t hit it, I’m not going to beat myself up about it. I won’t stress over missing a workout when life gets in the way, or if a workout doesn’t go as planned. My focus will be on having fun and improving where I can.

With that said, I’ll do my best! I’ll give my best effort to improve and hit my goals. I’ll do my best in each workout, and most importantly, I’ll do my best to share this journey with you

Today, I’m running a little East Van route from Van Tech High School to Emily Carr University of Art and Design. This route follows the SkyTrain and takes you through the Central Valley Greenway junction across Commercial Drive. Enjoy!

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There’s Always an Excuse, Triathlon Training

Well, the weather finally turned. If you want to experience the apocalypse, try driving in Vancouver on a snow day. But running in the snow? That’s exhilarating—if you can find a safe route.

Normally, I wouldn’t run down Commercial Drive. But if there’s ever a day to tour the city, it’s a snow day, right?

When it comes to anything in life—whether you do it well or not, whether things go your way or they don’t—there’s always an excuse. I notice that a lot when I’m training. You want to run, but it’s snowing. You want to feel good, but you step in a puddle. You want to stay in Zone 2, but you push too hard, and suddenly your heart rate is in the 170s. It’s easy to point at something and say, because of that, this happened.

But in the end, what matters is whether you let those excuses stop you. You can acknowledge the obstacles, but you still have to decide if you’re going to show up and put in the work.

Excuses are loudest when you’re trying to improve—especially since progress isn’t linear. It ebbs and flows. You get better at one thing, and something else gets worse. When you’re balancing three sports, working on creative projects, or even training a dog, it’s easy to focus on the setbacks and ignore the wins.

Take my swimming. Since getting Form goggles, I’ve been working on my head rolls—trying to improve my head position while breathing. But in the process, my swimming got worse. The first time you accidentally suck in water because you didn’t lift your head high enough. That’s enough to derail an entire workout. But when I step back and look at the big picture, I see small improvements adding up.

Count the little wins. Count the pennies earned, even if they don’t add up to a dollar yet.

There’s always an excuse when things go wrong. But sometimes things go right—sometimes they feel too easy—and maybe that’s when you should make excuses, too.

Because if you’re going to blame outside factors when things go wrong, you should acknowledge them when things go right. Maybe the conditions were perfect. Maybe you got lucky. Maybe your critic was just having a good day. But you still had to show up and do the work.

I need to keep this in mind as I start building my training plan for the upcoming races. Right now, committing to six workouts a week feels overwhelming. But all I have to do is take it one day at a time. One task at a time. One workout at a time.

Things will go wrong on sunny days, but things can go right on snowy days too. One day at a time. And today, that means running through the snow from the south end of Commercial Drive to the north.

Enjoy! 

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Reaching My Limit, Triathlon Training

Another beautiful day in Vancouver, but the weather is about to change. This ride was one I had to squeeze into an already packed weekend, so I made it an ambitious one.

Sometimes when I plan my ride, I focus entirely on the destination—never the journey there, and definitely not the journey back. But the journey back is often the hardest part. That’s where endurance happens. That’s where the training begins.

Going too far. To the limit. Must keep going.

There’s a moment in every long ride when you realize you’ve gone too far. You’re exhausted, miles from home, with no easy way out. No teleportation machine. No one to pick you up. You still have to pedal back.

I seek out that edge sometimes—not just in training, but in work and life. It’s in those moments, past comfort and deep in fatigue, that real decisions happen. Do you push through? Find a shortcut? Call home and admit you’re running late?

It’s a fitting metaphor. Whether in sport, creative work, or just navigating life’s responsibilities, we all hit that point where we wonder if we’ve taken on too much—gone too far. The question isn’t whether we’ll get tired—it’s what we do when we are.

Today, I’m riding from Trout Lake in East Van to the southern end of the Arbutus Greenway. I love this route—it cruises through undulating scenic city streets before easing onto a slightly calmer shared path.

But, as I mentioned, I had to squeeze this ride in. I got out later in the afternoon, right at peak traffic. Pedestrians, cyclists, cars—busy, busy. Another challenge to navigate.

Like all things, it comes back to the same question: Have I reached my limit? Or can I push through?

Enjoy the ride.

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How I’m Maintaining Fitness, Triathlon Training

Another beautiful day in Vancouver—cold, though. It’s just barely above freezing today. Still, any day in January without rain or snow? I’ll take it.

This week, I finally got around to tallying up all my metrics from 2024. Tracking data is something I genuinely enjoy, which is one reason I love triathlon so much—it’s basically an excuse to collect data. If I can quantify what I’m doing, it makes consistency feel so much easier. I bring that same philosophy to my creative work. Every day — or nearly every day — I track my creative writing and video creation the same way I track my workouts. I’m obsessed with my spreadsheets. 

Here’s how 2024 shaped up:

  • I swam 90,325 meters in 44 hours, 20 minutes, and 26 seconds (5% less than 2023).
  • I cycled 3,901.07 kilometers in 175 hours, 21 minutes, and 32 seconds (22% more than 2023).
  • I ran: 621.44 kilometers in 67 hours, 11 minutes, and 29 seconds (23% less than 2023).

The big jump in cycling is thanks to our new indoor bike, which I added to my routine last year—it made all the difference. As for swimming, I swam less because I spent extra hours in 2023 learning how to swim, so naturally, I didn’t log as much distance in 2024 because I didn’t have that huge learning curve. For running, I held back intentionally to avoid overdoing it and risking more injuries.

2024 was my sophomore year in triathlon. While I packed the calendar with races, I’d call it more of a “slump year” training-wise. But seeing the data laid out, I know I’ve built a solid foundation. This year, I want to build on that thoughtfully—not just by chasing bigger numbers. These annual stats are a nice way to reflect on the work I’ve put in, but they don’t tell the full story. What matters to me this year is how well I’m performing in training and races.

Take swimming, for example. For my birthday, my amazing wife got me a game-changing gift: FORM goggles. If you haven’t heard of them, they’re like a smartwatch built into your goggles. They show data like pace and stroke rate while you swim. Even cooler, they give feedback on things like head position while breathing and overall swim efficiency.

After my first swim with them, I got a score of 40 out of 100. Plenty of room for improvement, but I’m excited to see how much I can progress.

With that said, I’m heading into year three of this triathlon journey. While improvement is always a focus, the real priority is maintaining the habit. I don’t even think of triathlon as a hobby anymore—it’s just what I do.

Before my training plan officially kicks off in a few months, I’m taking this time to maintain my routine and base fitness. There is no point in tiring myself out. This is my no-pressure, fun part of the year, and I want to enjoy it. And I definitely want to do a weekend ride. So I’ve decided to explore some parts of the city that aren’t great for structured training but are worth a visit.

Today, I’m riding to the West End of Vancouver to check out some of the greenways, including the Comox-Helmcken Greenway. Thanks to this project, there’s been a 49% boost in cycling trips and a 35% decrease in car trips in the neighborhood. While the greenway was originally planned to stretch across the entire city, only the Comox phase has been completed so far. 

And since no ride into Downtown Vancouver is complete without detours, I got sidetracked by the demolition of the 115-year-old Dunsmuir building. It’s been a hotel, military barracks, and a shelter over the years, and now it’s making way for something new. From there, I’ll take a trip down the world-famous Granville Street.

Enjoy the ride.

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