fitness

Training for a 100KM Ride, Vancouver Triathlon and T100 Triathlon | 100KM Part 2

/ Elliot Chan / Leave a comment

I’m currently training for a 100 kilometer charity ride and two triathlons this year, and this series is me documenting the process.

This is Part 2.

If you want to follow the journey, stick around.

See Part 1 here.

Week 6: FTP Test 2 Search for the Limit

Is there a better way to start your week than with an FTP test? Probably, but I wanted to get it out of the way, as my weekends were strictly for long rides now. So if I wanted to do a test, it will have to be during the week before or after work. 

I’ve been thinking about this test for a while. It’s redemption, now that I have done a month of training. The whole point with these tests is for me to see progress, and it will be a good motivator if I see some improvement.  

A month ago I tested at 182 watts, and that has been one of my lowest FTP since I started. Not because it was bad, but because it was honest. It just showed me exactly where I was at, whether I liked it or not. I’ve just been trying to rebuild from there.

My weekly training has consisted of one VO2 and one threshold ride where I feel fine for a few minutes and then suddenly I’m hanging on. If I have time, I’ll add another slightly longer recovery ride. But what I try not to skip are the ones on the weekend. I love these longer easy rides. I’m casually exploring, but I also feel something building underneath, because I always come home with wobbly legs.

By the time the test actually came around, it didn’t feel like a big moment. Just the next step.

So Monday, after work, I got to it. That’s something I’ve noticed now—there isn’t really a 100% version of me that shows up for these things.

I like doing ramp tests because of how deceptively easy they start. There’s always this moment where I think, oh, maybe this won’t be that bad. 300 watts? I can do it. No problem. Then it quickly changes. 

It feels like a pretty good metaphor for life. Things start out easy enough that you assume they’ll stay that way. You get comfortable. Then the next moment it gets hard, and part of your brain almost rejects it because you thought you already understood what this was supposed to feel like.

There’s still that point where it gets hard. But this time I push it a bit more. I endure a bit longer. But I always fall apart. That’s also a lesson in life. Eventually, whatever you are doing you will reach your limit. Because you are human and there is always a limit. 

But with limits, there is always progress.

And when it ends, I look down and see two hundred and 8 watts.

That is a huge improvement from 182. It almost feels too high. 

That’s also another lesson in life. When you raise the bar, you challenge yourself forever more. And you are not going to be your best every time. So I’m daunted by this new number, because now all my workouts are going to be that much harder. 

Almost 10% harder. 

But still, all of this is to challenge myself. So… I just got to be ready for that. 

To help with motivation, I got myself a little treat. New socks. I purchased a bunch of these Outway socks. It’s just one of those small things that makes getting out the door feel a bit easier.

On Saturday, I rode out toward New Westminster.

I took the Central Valley Greenway, which is a route I wanted to take for a long time as it goes from Vancouver, across Burnaby, and all the way into New Westminster. New West is the original capital of BC. I went to college here. Met my wife here. I had some of the best memories here. But now I don’t go out there enough and I honestly haven’t done too much exploring here. So this ride felt  like something I needed to check off my list this training block.

These long rides are nice for exploration. And today was a good opportunity for it. 

Another thing I’ve started testing is fueling. It’s something I’ve kind of overlooked, but with longer rides coming, I know I need to figure it out. The good thing is I have an iron stomach. I can usually eat almost anything while training without issues, which is a huge advantage I like bragging about. So for me, it’s less about can I eat it, and more about whether I actually want to. Does it taste good? Is it easy to eat while riding? Am I going to end up covered in sticky crumbs trying to unwrap it on the bike? That’s kind of what I’m figuring out right now.

I’ve been trying these Xact bars, mostly just figuring out which flavors I actually like. I started with the apricot one, and the first thing that surprised me was the texture. For some reason I wasn’t expecting it to be a gummy candy. This was my first ever Xact bar, so I had no idea what I was getting into. And this one was way sweeter than I expected. Like properly sugary. Even the texture caught me off guard too. Softer and stickier than I imagined. I don’t know… maybe it’ll grow on me.

While I was out in New West, I stopped at Caps Bicycle Shop. This is the bike store, I purchased my current road bike from. I was thinking of getting new wheels, but I just didn’t find it financially necessary. The ones I currently have is fine. 

I think about buying a new bike all the time. But the truth is, every year I crash at least once. And little scratches happen. If I bought some really expensive dream bike right now, I’d probably spend half my time worrying about damaging it. I don’t want that relationship with my bike. Right now, I like having something functional. Something with a bit of character already built into it. 

And there’s something nice about not feeling precious with it. One day I’ll upgrade, for sure. But not this year. Right now I kind of want to see how far I can push this bike. How many miles I can get out of it. How much life it still has in it. I like that idea. Because in a weird way, it feels similar to what I’m doing with myself right now too. I’m trying to find the bike’s limit. My limit on this bike.

Right now, this entry level bike still feels fast to me. Sometimes faster than I’m even comfortable with. So I keep thinking… if a Toyota is already fast enough for where I’m at, why do I need a Ferrari right now? That’s kind of the mindset I’m in these days.

Speaking of practicing… this Sunday, instead of going out for another ride, I stayed home and cleaned my bike. I practiced taking the wheels off, trying to understand the machine a little better instead of just riding it. I took a bike mechanic course 2 years ago. I’m not sure how much of that stuck. 

I even spent some time tuning up my wife’s bike. I adjusted a few of the gears and noticed the chain was dropping on the big ring, so I tried to fix that too. I took it out for a quick test ride afterwards, and it felt pretty good. It was actually kind of fun riding her bike. It’s so much more comfortable. 

Challenging yourself isn’t only about going longer or achieving bigger numbers. Sometimes it’s learning the less exciting parts of the process. The things that make you more capable. More self-sufficient. More connected to what you’re actually doing.

Week 7: Mixed Together

This week felt like one of those weeks where training stops being separate from life and gets mixed into everything else. 

On Good Friday, I met up with my buddy, Joel, for a run before we went swimming.

Joel has been joining me for swims for about a month now, which has helped me stay consistent, especially since swimming has dropped down my priority. With just one swim a week, I’ve accepted that my swimming is not going to be that much better. 

As for running, after doing my half marathon a month and a half ago, I’ve cut down my mileage, but this month, I’m hoping to start slowly picking it back up. Two runs a week. 

This was a nice one to get out for. The run always feels easier when you’re chatting with someone, especially on a day off when there’s no pressure attached to it.

And the swim was good too. Right now I’m not following a structured swim plan—I’m mostly just doing lengths—so it can get a little repetitive and hard to stay motivated sometimes. But having someone there changes the whole feeling of it. It feels more like an experience I’m sharing with someone. It’s nice to have that balance. Because consistency is more than discipline, it’s making it easier to show up.

For example, the next day, I had to take my car in for service, which basically meant I had this awkward block of time where I couldn’t really do anything while I wait for my car. Toyota does offer to drive me somewhere and pick me up after the car is ready, but I don’t like the idea of being dropped off at a random place I don’t really need to be. Usually I would just wait at the dealership or go over to the McDonald’s across the street. This time, I decide to bring my bike.

Instead of waiting around, I did my training. And it was probably the best way to spend my time. I rode up Burnaby Mountain toward SFU. I did that climb once last year, and I remember it feeling like a proper suffer-fest.

It still hurts, obviously. But this time it felt familiar. I took the longer way up, which felt super rewarding once I got to the top. And that’s the part I like the most. The top of that climb just feels earned. It’s hard to get that satisfaction waiting at the dealership or having breakfast at McDonald’s. Although a McGriddle would be really good right now. 

What surprised me though is how accessible it’s starting to feel. Not easy—but completing a big climb like this is becoming part of my normal rotation instead of this big challenge ride.

I definitely want to come back and do it a few more times this year. I’ve always liked coming up to SFU. I’ve got a lot of good memories attached to this place. I was never a student here, but a long long time ago I had friends who studied on campus, so I’d come up to visit them, hang out at the bar, wander around the halls a bit. So getting to ride up here now feels kind of nostalgic. 

I like exploring this place, but not all of it is easy to access on a bike. There are a lot of staircases or inclines. But I did manage to take a break at the tracks. These little breaks on the long rides have been nice. I use it as an opportunity to taste test my Xact bar. 

I tried the blackcurrant one, and it was way better than the apricot. Not as sweet and way easier to actually get down. I could actually see myself using that on a run instead of a gel. On the bike though… I don’t know. That feels like a sticky and grainy disaster waiting to happen. But that’s kind of what this week was.

I’m just figuring things out. I’m starting to think that these Xact bars will be great for right before the race not during. Maybe I could have one before a run. But I think I would prefer a gel then one of these bars. Although, this blackcurrant one was pretty good. 

I love how this whole training process has become this mix of old and new. Old places, new experiences. Old routines, new ways of accomplishing them.

A lot of it right now is just figuring out how training fits into regular life. Around car service appointments, errands, work, all the normal stuff. That’s the real challenge most of the time. Not the workouts themselves. Sometimes it just means blending things together the best you can.

So Sunday ended up being more of a rest day. I stayed home, cleaned up a bit, hand-washed my cycling kit. And weirdly, I love that part of it too. Watching all the dirt wash out of the fabric after some long training. There’s something satisfying about it. 

Week 8 — Man Makes Plans

My buddy, Joel invited me to go for another run this week as he’s planning for the Sun Run. We decided to do a lap around Stanley Park, which is simply one of the nicest places in the world to run. 

It’s nice to spend a Friday night by the beach. This is the closest thing to night life for me these days. We finished the run by grabbing a beer and burger. It has been some really stressful weeks of real life, so it’s nice to have these outing sometimes. 

On Saturday, the cycling training continues. Riding across the Lions Gate Bridge is always fun. Every time I go over it, I think about when I was younger and a few friends and I walked across it into North Van just to explore for the day. At the time, it felt like this huge adventure because I barely explored the city growing up. Even going somewhere across the bridge felt exciting and unfamiliar. Now I get to choose to come out here whenever I want. 

For a while I’ve been planning a trip to Nanaimo which is on Vancouver Island. I was thinking of taking my bike there on a solo touring trip. I had it all planned. The route, the ferry ride, the hotel, the cycling I was going to have once i was there. I even got a day off. But I decided to cancel. 

A trip like that sounded really fun and challenging, but with how everything was going in training and life, I just didn’t need that extra riding pressure, so I decided to stay in the city. I was planning another overnight trip, but with the World Cup coming to Vancouver this year, all the hotel in the city is way overpriced. There’s many excuses, but I just have to do it. Just not this year. But I could still ride over the bridge and into West Van today. Nothing is stopping me here. 

I took a little break at Ambelside beach and it’s nice to see Stanley Park from this view. I tried the Green Apple EXact this week. I’m not a big fan of real apples, as I’m allergic to them, but I do like the flavor of green apples. I like how sour they are. And I think this one does it justice. It’s pretty good without being overwhelming. 

I’m not sure how eating something sour will affect you while racing. Like a Warhead. That would be interesting. I might just choke. 

As the time is ticking by and all the things I plan to do has rather happened or is fast approaching, I feel a little overwhelmed. There is a dread that starting to loom over me. A fatigue that is more than just in my body, it’s in my brain as well.

For example, on this ride, I decided to do a lap of Stanley Park as well. This is a race course for the Vancouver Triathlon I’ll be doing in September. September seems so far away at this moment, but I know it’ll soon come. And will I be ready? Will I be ready for my 100Km? Will I be ready for the T100? 

A part of me wants to have just training. No event. I just train to train without the pressure. I’m starting to feel like I have so much pressure these days. Leading up to an event. A presentation. A test. A challenge. But I suppose life is made up of these little milestones and that’s just the way to measure growth. 

Plans. Isn’t that another word for growing? Man makes plans, god laughs. Nothing ever goes exactly the way you want. And, nearly 2 months in, I’m seeing cracks in my training plan. 

Week 9 — Good Medicine

I’m excited for this weekend, because this weekend I’m going camping and it’ll be the first break I’m getting this training block. I have been training hard indoors, doing a couple of high intensity interval workouts per week. And with the higher FTP, the training has been much harder this month than last. So, a full few days to take completely off was good. 

But before I head out to slum it out in the woods, I’m going for a run. It’s a beautiful day. I’ve really come to love camping earlier and later in the year. With forest fires and how busy camp grounds get, it’s nice to beat the crowd. 

I went with my friend Tyler, who’s always great company. We grabbed a good meal first, then headed out to the campsite. It’s actually not that far from the city. You’re not completely out in the middle of nowhere or anything. It feels more like camping in a giant park than full wilderness camping. And that’s really all I need for now.

People prescribe all kinds of things for stress, anxiety, burnout, and depression. And you know what they say when there are this many remedies… there probably is no cure. But these little camping trips, like exercise, do feel like good medicine. 

The campsite we stayed at was nice too. We were right by this little river and Tyler built a little staircase here. It was a really great trip, although my air mattress deflated and I couldn’t figure out where the leak was. I’ll figure out whether I need to buy a new one next time. That was a bummer, because my sleep wasn’t great. In the end, this camping trip was a wonderful way to wrap up another month of training. And what I thought would be a good way to rest up for my next FTP test. 

You know what they say—when you go on a trip, you often come back needing another vacation. And honestly, I felt that. Summer was coming, I got back, and suddenly I’m pressure washing the patio, dealing with all the usual stuff at home, and jumping straight back into work. There’s just a lot happening all at once. I even caught myself thinking, what’s the point of trying to fit my next FTP test in? But then I reminded myself why I’m doing the FTP test in the first place. It’s not supposed to be done in perfect conditions. It’s about seeing where I’m actually at in the middle of everything. 

So with all that in mind, I guess the real question now is… how am I actually going to do this time around?

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Training for a 100KM Ride and T100 Triathlon | 100KM Part 1

/ Elliot Chan / Leave a comment

Week 1 — “The Takeoff”

I’d been thinking about this test the way you think about a flight you booked months ago, something distant at first, until suddenly it’s right in front of you.

The morning comes and, like most departures, it doesn’t feel perfect. I’m a bit underprepared, a bit off rhythm, still carrying the fatigue from a half marathon a few days ago and that slightly foggy feeling from a late night out with friends. And there’s a small part of me that wonders if this is really how I should be starting this, or if I should wait for a cleaner version of myself to show up before I begin.

But I know that version of me doesn’t really exist, at least not in any way that actually helps, and if I keep waiting for things to be perfect then I’m not really starting anything—I’m just putting off the moment where I have to deal with what’s actually in front of me.

So I start it anyway, easing into the test like a plane rolling down the runway, slow and steady at first, everything building in this controlled way that almost feels like takeoff. 

As the power builds—200, then 220, then 230—I can feel that familiar momentum starting to come in. But then the effort catches up. I try to hold onto it a bit longer, push it through 250, squeeze out another minute, stay in that smoother rhythm I had just a moment ago, but it’s already slipping away. And just as quickly as it built, it falls apart.

182 watts.

Lower than before, not by a dramatic margin but enough to make it clear that this is not a continuation of where I left off, but a start of a whole new journey.

That number feels like arriving at your destination. Like stepping off the plane into a new place and realizing this is it—you’re here now. There’s no going back. Everything moves forward, whether you’re ready for it or not.

Week 2 – Familiar Ground

Once I have that starting point, my attention shifts to what comes next and what the next few weeks actually look like. 

As I ride, I’m starting to shape what this training block actually looks like.

The goal is pretty simple: slowly extend my long rides each week so my body gets used to being on the bike for up to 5 hours, build up my threshold work so holding a steady effort starts to feel bearable, and keep the VO2 max sessions consistent so I’m improving without burning myself out.

At the end of each monthly block, I’ll do another FTP test as a check-in. I want it to show where I’m actually at. I’m not expecting big jumps every time, but maybe a small sign that things are moving in the right direction.

That’s the plan, but what am I even training for?

In about five months, I’ve got a 100-kilometer charity ride for MS, and a few weeks after that, the Vancouver T100 triathlon. Those are the dates on the calendar and everything I’m doing right now is about showing up ready.

Swimming and running are still part of the plan, but more in the background for now—just one swim and one run each week. That’s enough to stay balanced without taking focus away from the bike.

I find myself getting back on the bike naturally. The route helps with that too. Riding through Stanley Park again, passing the same stretches of road. Even the occasional detour feels both familiar and new at the same time, like returning to a place that hasn’t stayed exactly the same, but still recognizable.

For now, I’m honestly just excited to get back into a routine.

Having something I can come back to every day, something I can control, something I can actually do and feel finished at the end of it. Because a lot of things in life don’t really work like that. You put time in, but it’s not always clear what you’ve actually accomplished.

This is different.

I ride, I train, I log it, and I can see it. I can feel it. It gives the day some structure, like dropping a penny into a jar for every ride, every kilometer, every small effort, each one barely noticeable on its own, but slowly adding up over time.

I like the idea that by the end of this, I can look back and see how full it’s become—something I’ve slowly saved up over time, ready to be spent on whatever comes next.

Week 3 — Crossing Paths

I’ve been trying to keep this pretty solo, and I don’t mind it—it’s easier this way, and sometimes it’s nice when things are easy like that. You just go out and ride and let it be what it is. That’s a big part of why I’m doing this in the first place, those long rides where it feels like meditation, and there’s something really grounding about that.

But it’s nice to involve others in the journey too. It makes things more memorable. And as far as the training has gone so far, this weekend was a good memory.

My wife has been deep in her own marathon training, and this week she’s running a half marathon as part of that build. Petey and I went out to support her, moving between sections of the course, and then hiking the trails.

Somewhere in the middle of that day, I dropped my GoPro. I was trying to film Petey and it fell off a bench. 

I need my camera. I can’t rely solely on just my memories. I am documenting this whole project. Luckily none of the functions were effected. Just cosmetic damage. And it’s probably not waterproof anymore. 

The next day, I went for a ride with my buddy Racman. We caught up, rode across the Burrard Bridge, and looped around Stanley Park. I’m still early in this training block, so everything feels a bit more relaxed right now, and it’s nice being able to share parts of it like that, even if it’s just for a ride.

It reminds me a bit of a party—you might start it on your own, but once people show up, it takes on a life of its own. This training block kind of feels like that. It’s its own thing now, slowly evolving, growing. And I’m figuring it out as I go.

Most of the work is still done alone, but as long as I’m out there, I’m part of everything around me. I’m riding past people, crossing paths, sharing space, whether I want to or not. So I remind myself, even when I’m technically on my own, I’m not really separate from it all.

Week 4 — Expanding the Map

This week came with a couple small upgrades, both ordered off Amazon, which is always a bit of a gamble.

The new bike seat worked out. I went with one that has a cutout in the middle for a bit more relief on longer indoor rides, and it’s made a noticeable difference. 

The electric air pump… not so much.

I tried to save a bit and I pay for it. It’s hard to unscrew, leaks air every time I use it, and honestly feels like it’s messing up my tires. This is not a product I would even give away.

Week four feels like the first real expansion of the map during this training block. Up until now, most of my rides have been loops I already know. But this week, I wanted to go somewhere new.

Richmond isn’t far, not really. But as someone from Vancouver, crossing a bridge always feels like more of a commitment than it should.

It’s not just the distance. It’s figuring out the route, dealing with bike paths that don’t always connect cleanly, the chance of detours or having to double back—and when something doesn’t go right, it costs you time and energy.

It’s funny because a lot of the time, getting around the city on a bike actually feels easier than driving. But as soon as a bridge is involved, that changes. It’s never as simple as just going straight there. So even though it’s close, once I cross, it feels like I’ve unlocked the next level and suddenly there’s more to explore.

There are still detours, missed turns, moments where I have to slow down and figure things out. But over time, they just become part of riding a new route.

And I start to notice that same pattern in other parts of the training too.

Indoor riding has been a big part of this block, and it’s a different kind of challenge. Forty-five minutes inside can feel longer than a much bigger ride outside, because there’s nowhere to go. No bridge to cross. No new routes to discover. I’ve been using MyWhoosh, and it’s good for what it is, I’ve ridden Belgium, Japan, and Arabia more times than I can count, but it’s not the same as being out there on the real roads.

Still, I’m doing a lot of it, about 3 to 4 indoor rides a week, and in a weird way it feels like its own version of leveling up. At the start of this training block, I’m at level 27. I’m interested in seeing where I end up when this is all over. 

Sometimes it’s about exploring—taking a new route, trying a different way home, or riding a loop in reverse. Other times it’s just about staying on the bike a bit longer, finishing the session, logging it, and moving on. And over time, it all adds up, slowly building into something bigger than where I started.

Week 5 — Time Flies

Week five kind of crept up on me. Just suddenly realizing it’s already been a month. This weekend really brought that home. I rode out to UBC with my buddy, Racman, which felt important because that’s where I’ll be racing the Vancouver T100. 

There’s that hill I’ll have to climb four times, so actually riding it now was good practice. And that’s what it’s all about. The more I do it, the more familiar I’ll be. So while exploration is important, I will soon need to prioritize riding my race routes. 

Riding’s become a big part of my weekends now.

It’s the thing I look forward to all week. It’s starting to feel like a routine. My version of church, or just time to reset. And we’ve been lucky with the weather too. Still a bit cold, but no rain, which honestly is a blessing. 

Part of me wishes every day of the week could feel like the weekend. Wouldn’t it be great if I didn’t have to work and I can just ride my bike for a few hours a day. The sun is starting to set later in the night now, so soon I can choose to ride after work, but I find it so exhausting just to get prepared to go for a bike ride sometimes. And when I go after work, it’s rush hour and it get so busy with commuters, pedestrian, cyclist, and cars. So, for now, putting the bulk of my rides on the weekend makes the most sense. 

The only thing is, I definitely feel it after. I come home pretty spent, and I know that’s only going to get more intense as the rides get longer. Right now, my longest is about two and a half hours. Eventually that’ll be closer to five.

I’m excited for that, but I also know my body. I’ve burned out before, so I’m trying to stay aware of that. Figure out how to push without overdoing it.

And through all of it, I’m still tracking everything. Not because it’s new—I’ve always done that—but now it feels more like I’m trying to hold onto the time a bit. Because it moves fast. One week turns into five before you really notice.

Then on Sunday, I went out to Strathcona and up to Hillcrest. Different route, same idea. Just getting out there, adding another hour of practice, seeing something familiar but on a different day.

I won’t remember every indoor ride or every session, but I think I’ll remember the feeling of it building. The short rides getting longer. The number of activities on my Strava adding up. And now I’m heading into the next part.

Another FTP test. Another check-in.

Let’s see where I’m at. How will I do? Have I improved? Can I beat 182w? 

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12 Weeks to a Sub-1:50 Half Marathon | The Full Journey

/ Elliot Chan / Leave a comment

Chapter 1: New Year’s Day

2026 started with a lot of optimism. I’m six weeks into a twelve-week half marathon training plan, with race day set for Valentine’s Day. The plan itself is pretty straightforward—about four runs a week, with one long run that gets a little longer each weekend, adding ten minutes at a time.

I’ve really enjoyed that gradual build. Ten minutes felt like just the right amount of challenge—enough to push me without breaking me. By the end of the plan, my long runs will be close to two and a half hours, which should give me the endurance I need for the half marathon.

I decided to race a half marathon as preparation for the T100 race I signed up for in August. That race ends with an 18K run, after a 2K swim and an 80K bike ride. That’s my A race for the year.

My B race will be the Vancouver Triathlon in September. It’ll be my second time racing the standard distance on this course, and my goal is simple: do it better than last time.

Running has been my main focus through the winter, but my big Christmas purchase was a set of aerobars for my road bike. As soon as the half marathon is over, my training will shift toward cycling. I want to spend more time in the aero position—especially since I also signed up for a two-day cycling fundraiser that’ll require riding 100 km on day one and 30 km on day two. 

It’s going to be a long year. There’s a lot of work ahead and a lot of progress to make. And it all starts with me running this half marathon.

Chapter 2: Out and Back

One thing I really like about long runs is that they’re long enough to actually take me somewhere. If you’ve got close to two hours, you can get well beyond your neighbourhood. You can explore a route you’ve never tried before and still leave yourself enough time to make it home.

When I’m planning these runs, I always wonder what I prefer: one big loop, an out-and-back, or just heading out in a random direction until time runs out. During this training block, I’ve really grown to like out-and-backs. There’s something about covering the same route twice that I appreciate. On the way out, I’m fresh. On the way back, I’m drained. Same place—completely different experience.

I also like out-and-backs because they’re predictable. If I need to run for two hours, I can go out for one and come back for one. Simple. With loops, it’s harder to anticipate detours, barriers, or wrong turns in the second half. Out-and-back just makes the math easy.

Chapter 3: A Little Getaway

I’ve listened to a lot of audiobooks during this training block—six in total. One about ultrarunning, one about cycling across America, a few self-help and productivity books, and a biography about mountain climbing and Alex Honnold. 

Long runs have been a great way to catch up on my “reading.” I haven’t had much time to sit down with a physical book lately, and when I do, it feels scattered. Running with an audiobook lets me move and be entertained at the same time. I want to say I’m learning—but honestly, I’m not sure how much I’m retaining. 

These long runs feel like a small getaway. A chance to see the water. A chance to be outside. Especially on beautiful winter days, I really look forward to them. Without running, I’d probably just be at home. I’m grateful I get out.

Training has given me structure through these gloomy months. It’s helped time pass. It’s given me something I can control. I go for my run, I check the box, I log the effort. A small internal scorecard. It’s been huge for my mental health—I honestly don’t know what I would’ve done without it.

On days like today, I’m just glad to be outside. Away from the screens. A small escape from everything. Running doesn’t make stress disappear, but for a little while, it gives me space from it. It’s not easy—running is hard and tiring—but with all the pent-up energy I’ve been carrying, those weekend runs have been the best way to let it out.

Chapter 4: New Shiny Things

It was my birthday this past week. I turned 37. I’ve been doing some reflecting lately—and a lot of that thinking happens while I’m out running.

I got a couple of great gifts. My wife bought me Shokz headphones, and my in-laws got me a new pair of gloves. Both have made these winter runs so much better. And I’ve been lucky—the weather’s been beautiful the past couple weekends. 

On a day like today, I had to check out the seawall. Since my half marathon is happening here, I figured I’d run toward Stanley Park. It’s honestly one of the nicest places, even if it gets busy. I guess that’s the tradeoff with nice places.

One thing this training block has taught me is that…I don’t know how much I actually love running on its own. Three to four runs a week is a lot for me. When I’m training for a triathlon, it’s usually two runs a week, which is a lot more manageable. I still look forward to it—but I’ve been counting down the days to better weather and more time on the bike.

At this point, I’m getting impatient. I’m ready to race my half marathon and shift my focus to cycling. I’ve noticed this pattern in myself: when I do one thing for too long, I start thinking about the next thing. There’s always something new and shiny. Or rather, another flavor I wasn’t sick of yet. 

That’s partly why the new headphones and gloves were a timely gift. They made the long runs feel fresh again.

I did sneak in a bit of cycling this week, riding out to cheer Sharon on at the finish line of her 10K. We didn’t stay long—she had more miles to run as she builds toward her marathon in May. She’s on her own journey right now.

So we grabbed a little footage of the ride, and then headed home.

Chapter 5: Under the Weather

This weekend I woke up to my longest run of the training plan—and I didn’t feel good at all. Sore throat and a full-body burnout feeling. I definitely thought about taking the day off.

But I needed this run. I’d been looking forward to it. This was the one that was supposed to give me confidence heading into the race. If I skipped it, it would’ve felt like I cheated the plan—like I avoided the hardest workout and never put the punctuation mark on the block. I could skip any other run. But not this one.

So I sucked it up and headed out.

The mistake was starting with a climb. I had this route planned—up toward the Arbutus Greenway, then looping down to the seawall. Once I stepped outside, I couldn’t think of an alternative. I had to be out there for hours anyway, so I just got going.

My heart rate was high the entire time. Averaging 160—which is way too high for what was supposed to be an easy run. That’s when I knew I’d pushed it. I wasn’t 100%. It started raining. And it was too late to turn back, so I kept moving.

Yet, it was still strangely rewarding. Running in the rain. Feeling a little wild and free. Fewer people out than on a sunny day, which I liked. 

But it was one of the hardest runs I’ve ever done.

And I knew I was going to pay for it.

Chapter 6: An Early Taper

So it’s been one week since my last long run, and now I’m one week out from the half marathon.

I ended up getting sick this week.

I already didn’t feel great the morning of my last long run, but I went out anyway and pushed through a tough two-hour-twenty-five-minute run in the rain. When I got home, I knew something wasn’t right. I took a nap, and when I woke up, I checked my heart rate. It had been over 90 beats per minute the entire time. Normally when I nap, it drops to around 50. So that’s when I knew something was off.

My heart rate stayed elevated for most of the week, and I eventually developed a cough. It’s been a tough few days.

The good news is my heart rate has finally come back down. Yesterday I went out for a 30-minute run. My heart actually felt fine, but my legs felt a bit weak. Not terrible — just not strong. I guess it could’ve been worse. I’d rather get sick last week and recover than start feeling this way right before race day.

Right now, I think I’m going to be okay.

Today I’ll do about 45 minutes on the bike, and tomorrow, if the weather’s nice, I’ll ride outside. After that, it’s just the final taper and then race day next Saturday.

So yeah. We’ll see.

Chapter 7: The Half Marathon

Race morning, there was still that slight tingle in my throat, and my calves were a little sore. I didn’t feel 100%, but I felt ready. I had spent twelve weeks preparing for this, and more than anything, I knew I had prepared for the pain. I wasn’t naïve about what was coming. I knew at some point it was going to hurt.

What I didn’t have was a super detailed plan, because I honestly didn’t know how my body was going to feel once things got going. So my approach was simple: start controlled, settle into a moderate pace, and then reassess halfway. If I felt good, I’d build. If I didn’t, I’d manage it. Stay flexible. Adjust as I go.

My goal was anything under 1:50, with 1:45 being the perfect scenario. That was the dream outcome, but not the expectation. Standing at the start line, I’d say it felt 50/50. I wasn’t overly confident, but I did feel prepared, and that counted for something.

The first five kilometers went by slowly. I was holding my pace, but it felt a bit clunky, like I was still figuring out what the right effort actually was. I kept asking myself, what can I really sustain today? How much should I push?

It turned out to be a pretty ideal day for running. Around the 10K mark, we curved along the seawall straight into a headwind, and that’s when things started to feel real. It wasn’t overwhelming, but it demanded focus. One thing that unexpectedly helped was watching for the kilometer markers. I’d spot the sign in the distance and lock onto it. It gave me these small mental checkpoints, something to work toward instead of thinking about the entire distance left.

By the halfway point, I was feeling better than I expected. I glanced at my watch and tried to do some mental math — I’m not sure I actually calculated anything properly — but I convinced myself sub-1:50 was there. The real question became how far under could I go? Was 1:45 possible? I decided I had to at least try, so I gradually picked up the pace, about ten seconds faster per kilometer on the way back.

The final 5K is where it really started to hurt. My legs were heavy, my breathing was labored, and I could feel my energy dipping. I hung onto a small group for a few kilometers, letting them pull me along, but eventually I had to run my own race. With about 2 km left, I pushed and kind of disappeared into myself. There were tourists and pedestrians all around, completely unaware of the internal battle happening within me.

The course finished on a steep incline, which felt almost cruel at that point. I honestly thought that hill might break me, but somehow there was just enough left in the tank. Enough to crest it, cross the line, awkwardly accept a snow globe medal, and then collapse onto the grass.

My gun time was 1:48 on the dot and my chip time was 1:47 — comfortably under 1:50 and right in the middle of that “perfect day” window. It felt fair. It reflected the work I put in and the fact that the last couple of weeks hadn’t gone perfectly. The result made sense, and that gave me a lot of comfort.

I’m proud I followed through. I’m relieved it’s done. And I’m genuinely ready to shift my focus to cycling and ease off the running for a bit.

That said… I know myself. I might miss it sooner than I expect.

But for now, I’m putting these running shoes to the side.

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First 1K Open Water Swim Race

/ Elliot Chan / Leave a comment

Today is Canada Day, and I’m doing my first swim race—a 1km open water swim at Sasamat Lake, right here at White Pine Beach. This spot’s a local favorite, and on a holiday like this, it’s bound to get packed. I used to come here all the time when I was younger—not to swim, just to hang out. But since getting into open water swimming, I try to make it out here a few times a year.

It’s a beautiful day. My mom came along too, and I think she enjoyed cheering me on. She’s the one who paid for my swim lessons as a kid and took me to the pool on weekends. Back then, I wasn’t much of a swimmer. I’ve come a long way since.

I wasn’t aiming for anything impressive with this race—it’s mostly a practice swim to get ready for my triathlon in September. I wanted to hold a steady pace and try out the “swim straight” feature on my Form goggles. Really, I just wanted to enjoy the day, spend some time at the lake, and do something active. Training has pushed me to get out more and make the most of days like this.

That said, I have been training, and I had a rough idea of what I could do. In a test swim, I did 1000 meters in 24 minutes, so that was my target.

And then we were off.

I still remember my first time swimming in a race—the opening leg of a sprint triathlon two years ago. The water was rough, and I honestly thought I was going to quit. Nothing since has been as hard. But today? The water was calm. The crowd wasn’t too intense, though there were a few bumps—someone even cut in front of me at one point and forced me to stop mid-stroke. But it was all good.

I wore my Form goggles, which really helped—not just with swimming straight, but with keeping my mind occupied. The compass and live stats gave me something to focus on, which helped me stay calm. Open water can mess with your head if you let it.

Still, on the way back, I lost my sense of direction a bit. The sun was in my eyes, and I ended up following the swimmers ahead of me. I lost sight of the final yellow buoy and had to use the finish arch on the beach as a guide. By the time I got close, I realized I’d taken a different line—probably a longer one.

I came out of the water a little confused. Somehow, I’d finished in 21 minutes. My watch said I swam about 70 meters extra, which means even with the detour, I beat my goal pace—averaging 2:21 per 100 meters.

I walked away from this race feeling a lot more confident in my swimming. It wasn’t a super fast time, and I still need to work on sighting and swimming straight, but I’m not just surviving the swim anymore. There was a time when something like this felt impossible. When I first started, I could barely make it across the pool without resting five minutes to catch my breath.

That’s what I try to come back to—those early moments. It’s so easy to get caught up in small improvements or things that didn’t go perfectly. But if you pause and look back, you can see how far you’ve actually come. That’s what this race reminded me of.

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Training for a Triathlon: Resetting My FTP with a MyWhoosh Ramp Test

/ Elliot Chan / Leave a comment

I’ve learned a lot about cycling over the past three years. One big takeaway? It’s not something I’m naturally good at. Part of that is probably because I’m in my mid-thirties, and before getting into triathlon, I didn’t even own a bike. When I think back to my childhood, I can’t really remember how I learned to ride. My parents never taught me — honestly, I’m not even sure they know how to ride themselves. I think I figured it out staying over at a friend’s place in fifth grade. I remember leaning against a wall, just teaching myself how to balance.

Teaching myself has been my go-to approach with most hobbies. It just made sense — why pay for cycling lessons? That felt frivolous, like taking art class or something. Maybe someday I’ll get a coach and try to really improve, but for now, cycling and sports are about getting in shape, relieving stress, having an event to look forward to, and challenging myself little by little.

One big challenge coming up is climbing Cypress Mountain in Vancouver. I live near plenty of hills, so I’m familiar with climbs, but a 12km climb straight up? That’s new, and honestly, it’s a bit intimidating.

Sure, there’s probably a “right” way to train for something like this. But I’ve got to fit in running and swimming too — I still have two swim races, a triathlon, and a 10K PR attempt this year. If I had a coach, they’d probably guide me, but for now, I’m figuring it out on my own. And honestly? That’s kind of peaceful.

To get started, I decided to do an FTP test. I began using MyWhoosh a couple months ago, and it’s been a lifesaver. Before that, I tried Zwift and Rouvy, but for various reasons, I stopped using them. I’ve done FTP tests with different apps before:

That was the last test I did, and since then, a lot has changed. My bike fitness has definitely dropped — I didn’t do many workouts over winter after unsubscribing from Rouvy. I’ve been cycling regularly but mostly just commuting and casual late-night zone 2 rides.

This third year of triathlon has taught me I don’t have a huge appetite to ride outside unless I really have to. There are just too many hazards out there, and self-preservation feels more important this year.

That’s why I got MyWhoosh and went back to indoor riding for this training block. But to get a true baseline, I needed to start fresh with a new FTP test — and that’s what I did today, with a Ramp Test on MyWhoosh.

Having done a few ramp tests before, they always feel deceptive. The start is easy, then suddenly it ramps up and crushes your legs. Right now, I think my peak wattage for about a minute is around 260. Anything more, and I fall apart — at least on a ramp test, where you’re already exhausted by the time you hit the top.

I didn’t feel great during this test. I’m not proud of my performance, but I gave it everything I had. One annoying thing compared to Rouvy was the mercy feature: when you can’t keep up, the test ends. MyWhoosh doesn’t seem to have that — or at least I didn’t find it. So I had to keep going, watching those red numbers and feeling bad for not hitting 300 watts.

In the end, I got a shock — my FTP dropped to 192 watts. That’s 38 watts lower than before, which feels like a lot. But it doesn’t seem unrealistic. FTP tests aren’t perfect, and honestly, this feels closer to what I could hold for an hour right now.

So here we are, at the start of a new chapter. There’s a lot to improve in my cycling — I want to climb that mountain feeling strong, not struggling. I’m not aiming to win, but I want to feel good, to know I can push myself further.

Training starts now. I’ve got a few areas to work on, and not much time, so being realistic matters. Reminding myself this is all new helps. Reminding myself it’s a journey of self-discovery helps too. And that I don’t have anything crazy to prove.

Cycling is just another story I’m telling myself — a story I’m still writing. And this is the beginning.

If you want to support pancreatic cancer care and research, please consider donating to my ride — I’d really appreciate it.

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

/ Elliot Chan / Leave a comment

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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The Creative Triathlon: How I Stay Motivated with Art, Video & Writing

/ Elliot Chan / Leave a comment

I think a lot about how momentum works. Not just in training—although yeah, I do love a good triathlon—but in creativity too.

When I’m training for a triathlon, I’m not just running every day. I swim. I bike. And I run. Each discipline works different muscles, keeps things fresh, and somehow… they all support each other. Like, I come out of a bike ride with stronger legs for the run.

And that’s kinda how I’m approaching my creative life too.

I don’t just write. I don’t just draw. I don’t just make videos. I move between all of them—and doing that actually helps me stay motivated and inspired. If I’m stuck in one, I switch to another. If I’m tired of reading, I pull out my camera. If I can’t sit down to draw, I cut up footage and express my creativity in a whole new way.

So today, I’m sharing something I call the Creative Triathlon. It’s a predetermined length of focused time on three different creative practices: illustrating, video creation, and writing.
One discipline at a time. No pressure. No multitasking. Just a way to find time to do what you enjoy. 


First leg: illustration. For the past 4 years, I’ve been working on this massive personal project—drawing every single Pokémon. Yeah. All of them. It’s been slow-going, not because I don’t love it, but because finding the time is hard. Life piles up. Other projects take priority. And as strange as it sounds, drawing Pokemon doesn’t pay the bills. 

But when I do this creative triathlon, it forces me to carve out time for it. Even just 25 minutes. And honestly? It’s kind of like swimming. At first, it takes a while to get ready. But once I start? I don’t want to stop. It’s peaceful. It’s focused. And there’s something really satisfying about seeing one more little creature take shape.

This leg always reminds me why I started this project in the first place: because I love it. Because it brings me back to that kid part of myself that used to draw these things on notebooks. 

I’m almost at 1000 Pokemon. I really want to finish before they add more. If you are interested in see the rest, check out this video in the cards and the instagram in the link in the description. 


Second leg: video creation. Right now, I’ve been making a series of YouTube Shorts where I highlight key takeaways from books I’ve read. It’s honestly become one of my favorite creative outlets.

What I love about it is that it’s a true mashup of all my past-time activities—reading, thinking, writing, editing—it all comes together in these tiny videos. It makes everything I do feel active. Reading no longer feels like a passive intake of ideas. By turning it into a video, I get to spend more time with what I’m reading. I get to sit with the concepts, rephrase them, visualize them. And because of that, the lessons stick. They become part of me. A little snapshot of my life.

Video creation is great that way. It lets you experience your own thoughts in a completely new medium. You go from absorbing to articulating, from quiet reflection to something that moves and speaks. Seeing an idea come to life on screen—it just never gets old. 

Final leg: writing. I’m currently editing the fifth draft of the first book in a trilogy I’ve been working on for years. And yeah—it’s a slog. A meaningful one, but a slog nonetheless.

It’s such a big project that most days, I’m just chipping away at it. I don’t always see progress. There’s no big “aha” moment, no flashy breakthrough. It’s slow, repetitive work. And honestly, it feels a lot like running. Not a sprint—a marathon. You get tired. You want to stop. But you don’t, because the work is worth it. The fatigue is part of the point. It’s what builds endurance. It’s what makes the story matter.

Working on something this big, this long—it becomes part of your life. It’s something you carry. And the beautiful thing about creativity is that it’s not like sports… there’s no finish line in the same way. It doesn’t end. But that’s why I love this Creative Triathlon practice—because it does give me small finish lines.

Instead of focusing on finishing the book, I just focus on finishing a session. That’s it. One 25-minute block. And when it’s done, I get this little burst of relief, a sense of accomplishment. Like I’ve closed a loop. It’s such a good feeling—being able to look back at my day and say, “I did something today.” No guilt. No disappointment.

So that’s my Creative Triathlon. Three disciplines, 25 minutes each for me today. It could be more on other days, but today was only 25 minutes. Which is enough to get a good chunk of work done. Know this, though, it’s not about finishing a masterpiece in an hour and a half—it’s about movement. It’s about momentum.

Just like in a real triathlon, each leg has its own rhythm. Some feel strong. Some feel slow. But they all carry me forward.

If you’re someone who loves multiple creative things—or if you’re feeling stuck—try this. Treat your creativity like a triathlon. Mix it up. Work different muscles. Let each practice breathe new life into the others.

Thanks for hanging out with me today. If you decide to try your own Creative Triathlon, let me know how it goes! And if you already have a different combo that works for you—maybe it’s music, painting, and cooking—drop it in the comments. I’d love to hear what you’re working on.

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

/ Elliot Chan / Leave a comment

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

/ Elliot Chan / Leave a comment

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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Finding Control in the Chaos, Week 1 of Triathlon Training

/ Elliot Chan / Leave a comment

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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