Training for a 100KM Ride, Vancouver Triathlon and T100 Triathlon | 100KM Part 5

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 5.

If you want to follow the journey, stick around.

See Part 1 here. And Part 2 here. And Part 3 here. And Part 4 here.


Week 18: Slow Down

Since this was a recovery week, I figured it would be the perfect time to get my bike into the shop for a tune-up before the 100KM ride. Nothing is really wrong with it, but after months of training I thought it deserved a little maintenance.

Unfortunately, the bike shop was completely booked for the next couple of weeks. That makes the timing a little tighter than I would’ve liked, but thankfully the bike is still riding well. It’s one of those things that’s more for peace of mind than anything else, so hopefully I can squeeze it in before the event.

While training slowed down this week, the city definitely didn’t. The FIFA World Cup had arrived in Vancouver, and Canada was playing their first match here. It felt like everywhere I looked people were wearing jerseys or carrying flags. When Canada picked up their first-ever World Cup victory against Qatar, I couldn’t resist heading out for a run along the seawall just to soak up some of the atmosphere.

I didn’t really have a plan for the run. I just wanted to be outside and experience the big moment. Vancouver can sometimes feel like everyone is doing their own thing, but every once in a while something happens that brings the city together.

This week also marked my last FTP test before the 100KM ride. I had mixed feelings going into it because, if I’m being honest, this training block hasn’t gone exactly how I imagined it would. There were plenty of good rides, but there were also weeks where work got busy, my energy disappeared, or I was just trying to keep my head above water. 

There was a time when I would have beaten myself up about that. But lately, I’ve been trying to change that mindset and give myself a little more grace. 

Over the last five weeks, doing these FTP tests has actually taught me a lot about where I am as a cyclist. The number is useful because it gives me a way to track progress, but it doesn’t tell the entire story of my journey. There are so many variables that can affect a result, but when everything is condensed down into one number, it does give me a quick snapshot of how my week has gone.

And honestly, that’s what this entire project has really been about. The goal was never just about chasing a higher number. It was about being able to spend more time on the bike, handle longer distances, and build the confidence that I could keep going even when things go wrong. 

Looking back at all the FTP tests I’ve done over the past five months, it’s interesting to see the progression. I started this project at 182 watts, eventually climbed to 208, and then settled at 197. So going into this final test, I was curious to see where I would land and how it would affect my overall average. Thankfully, the test felt good, and when I saw the result, I was relieved to see that there was still some improvement. 

My final FTP test resulted in 210 watts. Leaving me with the five month average of 199. 

I think that’s a pretty fair result. And with that, the testing was done. There is no more fitness to be gained. The next step is to start backing off, recovering, and trusting the work that had already been done.

The next day, Sharon, Petey and I headed up to Whistler before continuing on to Pemberton for a little weekend getaway.

We dropped Sharon off at the Scandinave Spa for the afternoon, and while she was relaxing, Petey and I went on an adventure. There was a trail that led straight from the spa, all the way to the Lost Lake. We spent a couple of hours walking at whatever pace we felt like.

Walking through the forest with Petey turned out to be a pretty great way to spend the day too. It was quiet, the weather was beautiful, and after spending so much time thinking about training, it was nice to have an afternoon where there wasn’t anything I needed to accomplish.

Eventually we made our way up to Pemberton, which is somewhere I’ve driven through a handful of times but never really stopped to explore. It’s a much smaller town than I expected. Most people probably remember it because of the music festival that used to be held there years ago.

Shortly after visiting Pemberton, we heard on the news that they were on the verge of evacuation due to forest fires. I’m glad we got a chance to visit before that. 

We stayed in a simple little hotel for the night, and because Petey still isn’t comfortable being left alone in a hotel room, we grabbed some takeout and brought it back instead of going out for dinner. It definitely wasn’t a fancy vacation, but having Petey there was worth it. We also knew that every new experience like this helps build his confidence, so the more we can gently push him outside of his comfort zone now, the more adventures we can have in the future. 

Most of the trips Sharon and I take these days are built around races or training weekends, so it was refreshing to spend a couple of days away without having to think about start times or whether we’d packed all the right gear. It was just a chance to recharge a little before everything starts ramping up again.

When we got back to Vancouver on Sunday, the World Cup celebrations were going strong. This time I decided to take a run down to catch the Egyptian supporters marching toward BC Place before their match against New Zealand. This was such an awesome experience and a pretty fitting way to end the week.

Training was definitely a little more relaxed this week, but life certainly wasn’t. And sometimes, taking a step back from the bike for a few days is exactly what I need before the next big push.

Week 19: Small Victories

Nutrition has been a big part of this training block. Sure, I’ve been practicing eating my energy gels during my rides, but this week I also wanted to focus on fueling off the bike. I started tracking a full day of eating just to make sure I was getting enough food in.

I started with a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Sharon made some Rice Krispies squares, and I also had one of these Builder Bars during the day. For lunch, Sharon made me a chicken and rice dish, and while I was watching the NHL Draft, I had one of these protein drinks. I was pretty excited to see the Canucks draft Malhotra. Then, to finish off the day, I made myself a big breakfast for dinner.

You might have noticed a bit of a theme here. A lot of the food I ate was basically breakfast food, and that’s because my ChatGPT coach kept reminding me to eat breakfast. So, I figured I might as well lean into it.

With training winding down and our trip to Pemberton out of the way, I finally had some free time to enjoy all the World Cup festivities happening around Vancouver. It couldn’t have worked out better because there were six matches taking place that day.

I met up with my buddy Tyler. You might remember him from the camping trip a few weeks ago. We started the day at the FIFA Fan Fest at the PNE to watch England take on Panama. After that, we headed downtown to Jack Poole Plaza to catch Colombia versus Portugal, and from there we somehow ended up on Granville Street.

Vancouver has had such a great atmosphere during the World Cup, and it’s been nice seeing people from all over the world filling the streets, cheering for their teams and just enjoying this city that I love. 

The next morning came a little earlier than I would’ve liked because Sharon was running a half marathon. The plan was to drive her to the start, head back home, ride my indoor bike for half an hour and then jump on my road bike and cheer her on at the finish line. 

Watching races always gives me mixed emotions. Lately I’ve been feeling pretty burnt out with my own training. I’ve still been showing up and getting the rides done, but some of that excitement I’d felt at the beginning of the year had started to fade.

It’s hard not to imagine what the racers were feeling as they came down that final stretch. You can see the relief on their faces and sometimes complete exhaustion. Watching Sharon cross the finish line gave me a little bit of that excitement back. I’m incredibly proud of her.

Afterwards, I rode back home to meet up with my mate, Gareth because there was one more soccer match I couldn’t miss. Canada versus South Africa. It was a tense game. We were dominating but not capitalizing and it felt at any moment we would blow it. But when Canada finally scored and got the win, we were as happy as we were relieved. 

It ended up being one of those weekends where training just became part of the background. Instead, the focus shifted to the little things like taking care of my bike, planning my fueling strategy, and finding inspiration again. Those are small victories, the kind of things that add up over time. 

Week 20: Expectations

On Canada Day, I had something a little different on the calendar. We headed out to White Pine Beach for a 2-kilometre open water swim race. I did the 1-kilometre event last year and had such a good experience that I knew I wanted to come back. More than anything, it’s great practice for triathlon because you just can’t recreate the swim start at a local pool.

No matter how much time you spend swimming laps, nothing really prepares you for fifty to a hundred people all heading toward the same buoy at the same time. It’s chaotic, and it’s something I know I need to get more comfortable with.

I also haven’t been swimming as much as I’d hoped this year. Most weeks I’ve only been getting to the pool once, usually swimming somewhere between 800 and 1,200 metres. So jumping into a 2-kilometre race was definitely a step up.

The T100 is only a couple of months away, and the swim is the full 2 kilometres. I wanted to prove to myself that I could cover the distance. I also knew this race would show me where I still need to improve.

Standing on the beach before the start, I could feel those familiar nerves creeping in. A lot of triathlon is physical, but so much of it is mental too. Just putting yourself on the start line and settling those nerves is part of the experience. I decided to just lie down quickly to regroup. 

When the horn went, everyone took off. The first couple hundred metres were exactly what I expected, but I couldn’t control it. I took off a little faster than I should. And before I knew it, I was trying to catch my breath and calm myself down. I looked up and realized I had gone off course. 

When I looked back at the footage afterwards, I figured out what happened. Here I am motoring along. And here, we see another swimmer come out from the right and push me to the left, and before I knew it, I was following the wrong line. 

It wasn’t anybody’s fault. These things happen and it was a good reminder that I can’t just follow the person in front of me. I still have to look up regularly and make sure I’m swimming where I actually want to go.

Once everything spread out, the swim became much more enjoyable. I settled into my own pace, stopped worrying about everyone around me, and just focused on swimming my race. There were plenty of faster swimmers splashing past me and then disappearing into the distance, but trying to keep up with them wasn’t even an option. 

The biggest surprise was how tired my arms became after about 1,500 metres. That honestly wasn’t even something I had thought about going into the swim. Two kilometres is long enough that fatigue starts creeping in, and it’s a good reminder that it’s definitely something I’ll need to work on before the T100 because, unlike this race, getting out of the water is only the beginning.

Eventually I made my way back to the beach and crossed the finish line in 51:52. Overall, it felt great knowing I’d completed my first-ever 2-kilometre swim. But it was very far from perfect. 

Even with my FORM goggles helping me navigate, I still swam about 100 metres farther than I needed to. I was hoping to finish somewhere around forty minutes, but I ended up in the fifty-minute range instead. Honestly, I’m okay with that.

This race was about learning what 2 kilometres actually feels like. If anything, it reminded me that while the 100KM ride has been my main focus lately, I can’t completely ignore swimming. Once the ride is behind me, it’ll need to start spending more time back in the pool.


It’s the final week of training and there were still a few things left to take care of before the event, including picking up my race package. Getting that done early made the weekend a little less stressful, so it was nice to have one less thing to think about.

And there was a lot to think about with my mind still on the World Cup. We got up early on Saturday morning to watch Canada take on Morocco. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the result we were hoping for, but I still couldn’t help feeling proud finishing where we did. After all, when you look at the results, we exceeded expectations. 

Then came Sunday. The final long ride of the entire training block. It’s hard to believe how quickly the last few months have gone by. To mark the occasion, I broke out a new pair of Outway socks. These ones are called Jasper.

For the ride itself, I didn’t want to overthink it. I decided to finish the training block the same way it started, with a few laps around Stanley Park. The weather couldn’t have been much better.

By the time I rolled back home, I realized there wasn’t really much else I could do. The training was done. I’d ridden the kilometres, learned a few lessons, made plenty of mistakes, and hopefully become a stronger cyclist because of them.

Do I feel completely prepared? I don’t know if anyone ever does. But I’ve put in the time that I had. I’ve balanced this with work, with life, and with everything else that’s happened over the last few months. This isn’t my career, and there isn’t any pressure for me to prove something to anyone. I signed up because I wanted to see if I could do it. Now it’s time to find out.

Week 21 – 110 Percent

On Friday, we travelled to Chilliwack and stayed at a hotel with Petey, who was, as always, extremely excited about the adventure. 

For dinner, I grabbed some food from a place called Bozzini’s. It was a real lifesaver the last time I was here for the Cultus Lake Triathlon, so I thought I would give it another try. This time, I went with the lasagna special. It was good, but it didn’t quite compare to the spaghetti and meatballs I had before.

MS Bike Chilliwack Day 1

The next morning was finally here. The 100KM ride. The weather was rainy, but we were really hoping it would pass. I got the bike ready, packed everything up, and we headed out toward the start line.

The charity ride was MS Bike, an event that helps bring resources and awareness to multiple sclerosis. It’s an incredible cause, and I want to take a moment to thank everyone who donated and everyone who supported this charity and my fundraiser. It meant a lot to have people behind me throughout this journey.

Looking at the 100KM course, it honestly seemed a little complicated. I did as much research as I could beforehand, studying the route and trying to understand where I would be going, but I figured once I was out there, I would just have to trust the process and follow the signs.

My bike was ready. I had arrived in one piece. But I was more nervous than I expected. I couldn’t even finish my croissant. After months of training, this was the day I had been working toward, and now there was nothing left to do except start.

After the opening ceremony, everyone got into position. We were all ready to head out, still unsure of exactly what the day would bring. It was still a little wet outside, but we could see some breaks in the clouds and hoped the worst of the weather had already passed. 

With that, we were off. All those long rides had finally led to this moment. This event marked a milestone, not just in my cycling journey, but in this entire year. I remember when this day felt so far away. But now it was here, and before I know it, it will just become another memory.

That’s the interesting thing about events like this. Of course, you can always go out and ride a long distance by yourself, but having an event on the calendar gives you something to work toward. It creates a reason to show up, even on the days when motivation is low. And that’s what makes these challenges worth doing.

The first 10 kilometres were really smooth. We cycled out of town and started heading toward the farmland, and I followed a small group that slowly began to thin out as we continued. Eventually, I found myself riding mostly alone, with the occasional encounter with other participants along the way.

This part of the route wasn’t completely unfamiliar to me either. A lot of this section through Yarrow was part of the route from my triathlon the year before, so it was nice to recognize some of the roads and surroundings.

That being said, I did miss my first turn of the day on the way to the first rest stop. Luckily, I caught it pretty quickly, turned around, and got myself back on course. Following the signs was going to be one of the biggest challenges for me.

The first rest stop was a nice opportunity to take a quick break. It was located at a park, and I forced myself to eat something. So far, everything was feeling good. I was comfortable on the bike, my energy was solid, and I was exactly where I wanted to be.

The route to the second rest stop took us deeper through the farmland, and this was probably one of my favourite parts of the entire ride. The scenery was incredible. It felt like something straight out of Jurassic Park. If the rest of the ride was going to feel this calm and enjoyable, I was going to have a great day.

Most of this section I was riding on my own, but every once in a while I would catch up with another rider, share the road for a little bit, and then continue on. Just like I had practiced during training, I consumed one of my energy gels and kept rolling. I was holding a steady pace and everything felt under control.

Then I rolled into the second rest stop, which was Birchwood Dairy Farm. Apparently, the ice cream there is supposed to be amazing, but I didn’t get a chance to try it. Instead, I settled in for a moment, grabbed my lunch, and took a look at what was waiting for me. It came with a cookie, a salad, and a wrap, and honestly, it was a lot more food than I expected. I ended up eating about half, saving the rest for later, and then got back on the road.

Leaving the second rest stop, I headed out on my own. This section slowly took us away from the farmland, leaving Chilliwack and making our way toward Abbotsford. There were a lot more turns than I expected, and eventually, I caught up with a couple other cyclists.

Looking back, what I should have done was stay behind them and let them lead the way because they clearly knew where they were going. Instead, feeling strong and confident, I decided to pass them and take the lead. That was my first mistake.

My second mistake came shortly after. At first, everything seemed normal, but eventually I noticed that the bike lanes and shoulders had disappeared. Nothing seemed too strange at first, but then I came up to a confusing roundabout with no obvious signs, and the road ahead just didn’t feel right. 

I tried to remember the last sign I had seen, and I was pretty sure it told me to continue straight. Unfortunately, as I expected might happen at some point during this ride, I was lost.

I doubled back to the roundabout and figured if I was on the right path, I would eventually see other riders come through and I could just follow them again. But nobody came. That confirmed it. I had missed a turn.

Looking back now, I know exactly where it happened. Rewind. Right here. This was the sign I missed. That turn would have taken me up and around a much more forgiving climb. Instead, I was left standing at this roundabout trying to figure out my next move.

I could turn back and try to find the missed sign, but at the time I wasn’t even completely sure where I had gone wrong. Or, according to the map, I could take Vye Road and reconnect with the route that way.

And this is where Vye Road entered the story. The camera doesn’t fully capture how steep Vye Road was, but it was roughly around a 9-degree climb for a block or two. 

The decision was difficult because either option was going to cost me energy. But, I had to decide, “So screw it, let’s climb the hill.”

It was not a pleasant climb. I had to cross a driveway to an industrial area, and there were screws and bolts scattered all along the pavement. I carefully picked my way around them as I climbed, which added another layer of stress and difficulty to an already annoying situation.

This was the first major adversity of the 100KM ride. But I survived. Eventually, I met up with a few more riders and was able to laugh about the whole thing. That’s part of going on adventures. 

The section toward the third rest stop took us along a road beside the Abbotsford airport, and it felt like it went on forever. But eventually, we made the turn toward Aldergrove Regional Park, and I let out a sigh of relief. I didn’t stay there too long. Just a quick 10-minute break, a chance to reset, and then I was back on the road.

This was the farthest point of the ride. From here, I was officially heading back toward the finish, and unlike the first half of the course, this section was supposed to be mostly downhill. After the climb up Vye Road, I was very much looking forward to that.

A large part of this section took us through farmland again, and it was one of the most peaceful parts of the ride. The roads were quiet, the scenery was beautiful, and it was a nice reminder of why I enjoy cycling.

This also felt like the perfect time to take one of my caffeinated gels. Yes, caffeine was exactly what I needed. Up until this point, I felt like my fueling had gone really well. The rest stops, the snacks, and the wrap I had earlier had all helped keep me going. This was different from the triathlon, where nutrition was much more limited, so I wanted to take advantage of having access to more food and make sure I was staying ahead of any issues.

I turned back into a residential area, and that’s when I noticed something strange on the road. At first, I thought they were leaves blowing across the pavement, but when I looked closer, I realized they were tiny little frogs hopping their way across the street. I tried my best to avoid them, but there were so many. 

Looking back, I guess all those things on the road were a bit of foreshadowing. Because not long after that… It happened. I got a flat tire. And I could almost feel it coming. We were riding along that same stretch of road. Yep. You guessed it. Back on Vye Road, this time heading in the opposite direction. 

I heard it before I felt it. The sound of air slowly escaping from my tire. It was a sound I hadn’t experienced before, but I immediately knew something was wrong. It was my back tire.

When I stopped to inspect the damage, I saw the problem right away. A piece of glass had pierced the tire and created a small gash. 

In that moment, I had a decision to make. I could try to repair the flat myself, which I knew could take a long time and potentially create more problems, or I could contact the support team and let them help me. I decided the best option was to get support.

The plan was for them to pick me up, bring me back to the second rest stop, and get the tire repaired there. So, I waited at a goat farm, which was probably one of the more random places I could have ended up. Thankfully, the awesome MS Bike support team arrived and picked me up.

The disappointing part was that I missed the downhill section of the big hill I had climbed earlier. The funny thing was, while I wasn’t supposed to climb that hill in the first place, the actual route would have taken me down it.

Checking the map after, it’s pretty funny. Almost all of my bad luck during this ride happened within this one small section of road. That one block radius around Vye Road really became the unofficial nemesis of the day.

The car ride back to Birchwood Dairy Farm gave me a chance to reset. Thankfully, the mechanic were ready and available, and so was the rest of my lunch that I had saved earlier. The flat was fixed quickly, taking less than ten minutes, and from there I decided the best thing I could do was take a moment and eat the rest of my food before heading back out.

I asked the people driving me back how much distance I had missed and how many kilometres I would need to make up. The last thing I wanted to do was go back out onto Vye Road, but I also didn’t want to feel like I had skipped a part of the ride.

Thankfully, it was only about five kilometres. That really wasn’t too far. So I made a plan. I would ride 2.5 kilometres out into the farmland and then turn around and come back. After that, I would continue the route and make my way back toward the finish.

After everything that had happened over the previous couple of hours, it was actually really nice to be back in the farmland. This was probably the most peaceful section of the entire ride. I was alone again, just riding through the countryside, slowly making my way toward the end.

Then it was finally happening. The feeling that this ride might never actually end. After hours on the bike, after all the excitement and chaos of the day, I was getting tired.

I knew it was real when groups of older riders started passing me. I was impressed. That’s something I aspire to now. The days of thinking I’m going to become a professional athlete are behind me. I’m not exactly in a position to win any races right now, but maybe when I’m in my 50s. For now, the goal was simply to keep moving forward.

I eventually reached the final rest stop, although I didn’t even realize it was there until I arrived. Looking back, I probably should have stopped, eaten something, and taken a proper break. But at that point, I felt like I was close enough to the finish line that I didn’t want to spend any more time standing still. So I got back on the bike.

Not long after leavin g, I had a group of children shouting at me from the side of the road. I’m pretty sure they were cheering me on, although it’s sometimes hard to tell what kids are actually saying these days.

The final stretch continued to be a solo grind. This was when I started checking the clock more often. I knew Sharon and Petey would be waiting for me at the finish line, and that thought was becoming one of my biggest sources of motivation. I was excited to see them, excited to finally stop riding, and excited to just sit down. But the road seemed to keep going.

One of the difficult things about this section was that it became hard to tell exactly where I was going. A lot of the roads started to look the same, and I felt like I should have been heading back toward the mountains, somewhere closer to the highway and the Heritage Centre.

But at different points, it felt like I was going in the complete opposite direction. Then I noticed I had already gone past 100. Now I was approaching 110 kilometres. Immediately, that familiar doubt started creeping back in. Did I take another wrong turn? Was I somehow going the wrong way again?

Today, a lot had gone wrong. I got lost. I climbed a hill I wasn’t supposed to climb. I got a flat tire. I had to get picked up and restart. I was tired, and I was questioning myself. But I kept going. Slowly. And eventually, I made it.

And just like that, it was over. It was a full day, and honestly, I think I experienced almost everything you could experience during a 100KM ride.

Seeing Sharon and Petey waiting for me at the finish line was probably the best reward I could have asked for. After spending most of the day alone on the bike, seeing familiar faces brought everything back into perspective.

Then came the beer, the pasta, and just getting to sit down and enjoy the atmosphere. I took some time to appreciate the whole event, the massive venue, which I assume is usually used for live animals, and the feeling of finally being done.

But I wasn’t done. One thing I haven’t really mentioned is that this was actually a two-day event. There was another ride happening the following day, so I couldn’t celebrate too much because there was still another challenge waiting.

Tomorrow would be a 40KM ride, including an “apparently” big hill climb near the end. So for now, I headed back to the hotel, rested with Petey, and watched the Argentina versus Switzerland semifinal game. It was exactly what I needed.

MS Bike Chilliwack Day 2

The next morning, I woke up feeling surprisingly fresh. My legs were definitely tired from the ride the day before, but overall, I didn’t feel nearly as bad as I expected. I got ready, put on my MS Bike jersey, and once again, I want to thank everyone who donated and supported this fundraiser.

When we arrived at the venue, I got my bike prepared and started debating whether I actually had the stomach for a sandwich. After yesterday’s ride, where I came pretty close to running out of energy, I figured it was probably a good idea to eat as much as I could while I had the chance.

Throughout the morning, everyone kept talking about one thing. The hill. I had looked at the elevation map beforehand, so I knew what was coming. It was roughly a 100-metre elevation gain over a kilometre, with sections that reached around 11 or 12 degrees. It wasn’t going to be an easy climb, but at the same time, there was no question that I was going to do it.

When the ride started, though, everyone seemed to have a completely different idea of what a recovery ride was supposed to be. I thought people would take it easy after the previous day, but everyone immediately started putting in the pace.

I eventually found myself near the back of the climbing group, riding alongside one of the race marshals. That worked out perfectly. It gave me someone to chat with rather than worrying about keeping up with everyone else.

Then, about 15 minutes into the ride, something happened. I looked down and noticed my GoPro was hanging strangely off the side of my bike. Looking back at the footage now, I’m actually surprised it stayed attached at all. 

The problem was that one of the screws attaching the adapter to the mount had come loose. I had to stop and take a look, but I didn’t really have the time to properly troubleshoot it. So, for the rest of the ride, I would have to go without my usual camera setup.

After that, we made our way through the neighbourhoods of Chilliwack, enjoying the quiet roads before eventually arriving at our rest stop, Kent’s Ice Cream. I grabbed a scoop of chocolate, and it really hit the spot.

Eventually, everyone got back on their bikes and continued on. This time, I made a conscious effort not to get dropped as the route opened up into beautiful farmland.

And then, in the distance, we saw it. It’s difficult to capture just how intimidating it looked on camera, but trust me, it was a serious climb. It wasn’t a straight shot upward. Instead, it curved around and just kept going, maintaining that steep incline for what felt like much longer than it probably was.

I tried not to think too much. Little by little, at my own pace, I kept moving upward. Eventually, I reached the middle where it levelled off. I stopped for a moment to appreciate what I had just accomplished before continuing onto the second part of the climb. This was the section people had been warning me about, although I wasn’t completely sure what they meant until I got there.

The hardest parts were behind me. And looking back, I really wished I still had my camera mount because the descent was probably one of the most fun parts to capture. Instead, I’ll just have to rely on my memory of weaving through the residential streets on the descent, finally making my way back toward the main road and the city.

As I rolled across the finish line, I tried to actually appreciate what I had accomplished. This journey often felt like a solo one. Most of the hours on the bike were just me, my thoughts, and the road ahead. But from the beginning to the end, there were so many people who played a role in this story. Sharon and Petey waiting for me at the finish line. All of them became part of this experience.

It’s easy to get stuck inside your own head, focused on your own struggles and your own problems. But experiences like this remind me that everyone is out there living their own story. Everyone has their own challenges they are trying to overcome.

This was one chapter of my journey. There are still more races, events, and rides ahead. My triathlons are still waiting for me, and now it’s time to start preparing for them. But for now, I’m just happy that this 100KM ride is over. So, let’s keep rolling.

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Training for a 100KM Ride, Vancouver Triathlon and T100 Triathlon | 100KM Part 3

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 3.

If you want to follow the journey, stick around.

See Part 1 here. And Part 2 here.

Week 10: Clean Start

What’s the best way to prepare for an FTP test? I’ll tell you what isn’t: spending a couple of hours pressure washing your patio. That’s exactly what I did the day before my monthly test after getting home from a camping trip. By the time I climbed onto the bike the next morning, I already knew I wasn’t feeling as fresh as I wanted to. But my patio is looking clean. 

The timing was interesting because my previous FTP test had been a huge jump—from 182 watts to 208. Seeing that number pop up on the screen felt like validation that the training was working and that there was still plenty of room to grow. But after doing these tests for a few years, I’ve also learned that fitness rarely moves in a straight line.

The number is useful because it helps guide training, but it’s still just a snapshot of where you are on a particular day. It doesn’t define what you’re capable of when it comes time to perform.

When the test started, I felt the usual optimism. Those opening minutes always leave room for possibility. Maybe I’d surprise myself. Maybe there was another breakthrough waiting.

But as the effort built, the legs never quite came around. The power felt heavier than it should have. And when the test got hard, there was no faking it. All I could do was keep turning the pedals and empty whatever was left in the tank.

When it was over, the result was 198 watts. Not the 208 from last month. Not the 182 from before that. Right in the middle. And standing there afterward, that number felt surprisingly fair.

Sometimes when things are a little off, they settle back toward something more realistic. The more tests you do, the more you realize that fitness isn’t built on breakthroughs or setbacks. It’s built on averages. On showing up month after month and putting together enough good days that the trend slowly moves upward.

You rarely improve as quickly as one great test suggests. But you rarely lose fitness as quickly as one disappointing test makes you fear. Most of the time, it’s just a steady march forward.

Let’s talk about my kit. I’m not really a gear guy. I think it’s easy to get carried away and turn your hobby into shopping. Suddenly you spend more time researching apparel and equipment than actually doing the thing. I want to avoid falling into that trap, because let’s be honest, I’m not at the point where I’m getting any marginal gain from my gear.

Don’t get me wrong, there’s a lot of cool stuff out there, and I’d love to try all of it someday. But for the most part, I’ve always been happy keeping things simple.

That changed a little this week. It was Friday after work and I decided I was going shopping. So naturally, I headed to the place every 90s kid spent their Friday night: the mall.

The real reason I’m here was because I’d heard a new Decathlon had opened.  It would have been great if this store had existed when I first got into triathlon four years ago. \

For the upcoming 100-kilometre ride, I wanted to upgrade my cycling kit a little. The Amazon bike shorts I’ve been using have been great value for the money, and they’ve served me well, but spending several hours in the saddle is a different challenge. It felt like the right time to invest in something a little more comfortable.

I ended up picking up a pair of bib shorts and a jersey. Both seemed reasonably priced and, perhaps most importantly, they had plenty of pockets.

Saturday was another trip out to UBC. The weather was beautiful, and my goal was simple: ride the course and spend some time getting familiar with that hill. The thought of climbing it four times during the race is intimidating, but descending it four times might be worse. But what really gets me is knowing that after all of that, there’s still an 18-kilometre run waiting.

One of my favorite parts of these training now is this highway stretch on Marine Drive in UBC. While sometimes it’s windy, it’s also a good spot for me to practice being in the aerobars.

I stopped for a break near the Chan Centre and pulled out another Xact bar for another taste test. This time it was the orange flavour.

Unfortunately, orange-flavoured anything has never really been my thing. Candy, sports drinks, energy bars—unless it’s an actual orange, it always tastes a little artificial to me. I’ll save the full rankings for the end of this series.

What surprised me most about the ride was the distance. The kilometres just seem to add up quickly these days. This didn’t feel like the longest ride I’ve ever done. In fact, it felt pretty normal. But when I got home and looked at the numbers, it turned out to be a new personal best. A few months ago that distance would have felt like a huge achievement. Now it just felt like another training ride. 60km doesn’t seem like anything. 

Speaking of new normals, I’ve decided that long rides deserve a proper reward. My latest tradition is stopping at a brewery afterward for a beer. This time I ended up at Powell Brewing. I love this place. I used to work here, and every time I come back I’m reminded why I enjoyed it so much. After a long ride, sitting down with a beer felt like the perfect way to end the day. For a little while, there was nowhere else I needed to be.

Week 11: It’s Not a Sprint

I’m wearing my new pair of Outway socks this ride, hoping to make this ride a bit more special. This one’s called Night Time Bliss. 

My mind wasn’t in a great place this week. I’ve been struggling with my mental health for years now. Things have felt especially shaky over the last couple of years, and lately I’ve found myself waking up with this overwhelming sense of dread. The future feels uncertain. Every problem feels bigger than it probably is.

Riding my bike helps. It gets me out of the little room where I spend most of my day. It reminds me that there is a world beyond my own thoughts.

At the same time, I’ve noticed that my world has become smaller. I don’t like being around crowds for too long. Even when things are going well, part of me is always waiting for something to go wrong. But the bike gives me a way to escape.

This week I decided to combine the routes from both races I’m preparing for. A lap of Stanley Park and an out and back at UBC. A little taste of both the Vancouver Triathlon and the Vancouver T100. 

I’ve learned that when I’m struggling, it helps to have something on the calendar. Something to look forward to. When my thoughts spiral, the future can feel like a dark and empty place. But then I’ll look at my schedule and see a race, a bike ride, a camping trip, a concert. Suddenly there’s a destination ahead. Not unlike cycling, really. You don’t need to see the entire route. You just need the next landmark.

One thing I’ve noticed over the years is that excitement feels different now. When I was younger, I’d count down the days until something fun happened. These days I don’t get that same rush of anticipation. Instead, I look at an upcoming event and think, “That’ll be nice.”

Maybe that’s part of getting older. Either way, I’m trying to say yes to more little adventures. Even something as simple as exploring a familiar route can feel meaningful right now. It reminds me of the quote from Marcel Proust: “The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new lands, but in seeing with new eyes.”

I stopped at Spanish Banks for a break and pulled out my next Xact bar. This one was strawberry. And it’s pretty good. Not overly sweet. Just a solid flavour. Definitely one of the better ones so far.

As I sat there looking out at the water, I couldn’t help thinking about how great Vancouver is on a day like this. The city looked incredible. And for the first time all week, I felt lighter.

Even when a bird decided to poop directly on my aerobars during the ride home, it didn’t bother me that much. A few days ago that might have ruined my mood. This time I cleaned it off and kept going. After all, I knew there was a beer waiting for me at the end of the ride.

I stopped at Red Truck afterward. Sitting there with a cold drink was a reminder that there are still plenty of good moments ahead. And as it turned out, there was another one waiting the very next day.

Sharon was running the BMO Marathon. This was the day she’d been training toward for months, and somehow it had arrived already.

It was an unusually hot day. A tough day to be running a marathon, especially if you had a time goal in mind. But there’s something inspiring about being surrounded by people doing hard things. Thousands of people in discomfort. I love watching people endure something difficult and come out the other side. A real survival story.

Maybe that’s why endurance sports resonate with me so much. They’re a reminder that hard things end. Eventually. It’s not a sprint, but sometimes, if you stick with them long enough, they turn into something worth celebrating.

It was a great day. Great to see so many people out there. And most of all, I’m incredibly proud of Sharon.

Week 12: Rough Roads

I’m 12 weeks into training now, and lately it feels like I’ve been carrying an invisible weight everywhere I go. Because of that, I decided to do my long ride indoors this weekend. Normally I look forward to getting outside and exploring somewhere new, but this time I wanted to sleep in a little and spend more time walking Petey.

We’ve been talking about taking him on longer adventures this summer. In June, we’re heading up to Whistler and spending a night in Pemberton. While Sharon relaxes at the Scandinavian Spa, I’m planning to take Petey out on one of the nearby trails. So in a way, he’s training too.

As for me, I had a feeling that an indoor ride might actually be exactly what I needed. When I’m feeling overwhelmed, even things that I normally enjoy can start to feel like work. A long ride outside means planning a route, thinking about nutrition, checking the weather, deciding where to stop, and dealing with traffic. Usually those things are part of the fun, but this week I didn’t have much energy for any of it.

Instead, I spent three and a half hours on the trainer. There’s something strangely comforting about a ride that asks almost nothing of you except to keep pedaling. The first hour felt slow, but after that my brain gradually settled down. By the second hour I wasn’t really thinking about much at all. I was just watching the time pass and turning the pedals over.

It almost felt like exercising a different muscle completely: my ability to sit with boredom. When you can overcome boredom, you can overcome anything. By the time I got off the bike I felt calmer than I had in days. 

At this point, I’m not following any updated training plan. I’m mostly reusing workouts that have worked well for me in the past and adjusting things as needed. Right now, I’m less concerned about optimizing every session and more concerned about maintaining the routine. I’ve been feeling burnt out enough already, and I don’t want training to become another thing I overthink.

The next day we headed out to Maple Ridge. As much as part of me wanted to stay home and rest, I was also excited because I finally had a chance to test out my new bike rack.

I picked up a Saris Bones EX 2 recently because I’m hoping to do more adventures farther from home. Between bringing Petey along and carrying all of our gear, having the bike outside the car frees up a lot of space.

The only catch is that I don’t have a hitch, so this is one of those racks that straps directly onto the vehicle. I’ll admit I was a little nervous the first time I loaded my bike onto it. Driving around the block, I kept glancing in the mirror every few seconds just to make sure everything was still attached. Thankfully it survived its maiden voyage.

Once we arrived, I headed out for a ride through the farm roads around Maple Ridge. Ever since getting aerobars, I’ve wanted to ride somewhere with long uninterrupted stretches of road where I could settle into position and just lock in for a while. After spending most of my time riding through Vancouver, being surrounded by fields and open sky felt refreshing. At least for a little while.

The roads eventually became rougher than I expected. The pavement was cracked, uneven, and full of potholes. Instead of cruising along in the aero position, I found myself rattled, shaken up from the bumpy roads. It was not a smooth ride.

But I kept going because I had a destination in mind. At the end of the road was this boat launch at the edge of Pitt River. It’s funny how often cycling takes me to places that are technically close to home but that I probably never would have visited otherwise. This wasn’t some remote destination. It wasn’t even that far from where I went camping a few weeks ago. Yet standing there by the river, it still felt like I had travelled a great distance.

While I was there, I tried the lemon Xact bar. As I’ve mentioned before, citrus flavours generally aren’t my favourite, but this one was definitely better than the orange version. Still not near the top of my rankings, but I enjoyed it enough.

This week was difficult, and there were moments where I felt myself slipping into some dark places mentally. There were stretches where I felt numb, and where it was hard convincing myself that any of what I was doing really mattered.

But looking back at the week, I still did the things I said I would. I got my training in. I walked my dog. I tested the gear. I explored somewhere new. None of those things magically fixed how I was feeling permanently, but they reminded me that life keeps moving whether I feel motivated or not. The days pass either way.

I think that’s why I keep making plans and setting goals for myself. They give me something to move toward when things feel uncertain.

This week the roads were rougher than expected, both on and off the bike. But rough roads still go somewhere, and eventually they lead to a turn, a new direction, a fork. Sadly, I’m not there yet. So, I keep moving. 

Week 13: Friends

This week started out so bad that I ended up taking a mental health day from work. I spent most of that day reading and hanging out with Petey. No training. No productivity. It helped, at least temporarily. My eyes felt less tired and I finally got a chance to slow down for a moment. But a day off isn’t really a solution. It’s relief. Sometimes necessary relief, but just relief all the same. 

Without getting into too much detail, this was a week where I finally opened up about everything  that had been weighing on me. And while nothing changed overnight, I could feel something beginning to change. For the first time in a while, what had felt like a stampede toward a cliff started to look more like a tunnel with a light in the distance.

As it turned out, it was perfect timing. A few friends, Joel, Jacey, and Tianna  invited me out for a ride that weekend, and it was what I needed. 

We started later in the day, so I had some extra time to clean my bike. It was much needed. I want to make more time for this as well. The same way I’m trying to make some time for friends

It was one of those classic Vancouver summer days. Blue skies, a little windy, but too nice to stay indoors.

My friends in their casual outfits, me in my cycling attire rode out along the Arbutus Greenway before eventually stopping for lunch at a restaurant called Milltown tucked away in South Vancouver. More than anything, it was nice to spend time catching up.

A lot has been happening lately, and if I’m honest, cycling hasn’t been my biggest priority. I’ve been trying to navigate a period of transition in my life. Because of that, training has recently taken a back seat. But riding with friends reminded me why I started doing this in the first place. Because it’s fun. This week, fun was important.

The next day I met up with my buddy, Racman, for a ride. He had recently picked up a new bike. What a beaut! 

We decided to head out toward Deep Cove in North Vancouver. This was a destination I’d always wanted to reach on a bike.

On this ride, I was also testing out some Skratch energy chews. As I’m preparing for these longer rides, I’m thinking more about fueling, so I opened a pack before I left to make it easier to eat a few and keep my energy up along the journey.

We crossed the Second Narrows Bridge, worked our way across North Vancouver, and eventually rolled into Deep Cove where we were greeted by another amazing view. 

How lucky am I to get to experience this? I ask because there is usually this voice in my head that tells me, I don’t deserve nice days, I don’t deserve what I have, I should give it all back. Deep Cove really is one of the most beautiful corners of the city. We just took a moment to soak that all in. A stolen moment I’m keeping. 

From there we made our way across North Vancouver toward Lonsdale Quay. I hadn’t been there in years. I remember standing there looking back at downtown Vancouver and feeling completely mesmerized by the skyline.

Coming back now felt strange. The Lonsdale I remembered doesn’t really exist anymore. There are new towers everywhere. New businesses. New people. 

By the time Racman and I started thinking about lunch, we decided it made more sense to head back toward Vancouver. 

Another month of training had passed. Summer has officially arrived, and the rides are starting to get long enough that I still feel a little nervous every time I head out the door. 

At the same time, my indoor training has started to slip a little this month. Life has been busy, my focus has been elsewhere, and I can’t honestly say that my fitness has taken some huge leap forward.

Which brings me to the next FTP test. At this point, I don’t really view these monthly tests as a measure of success or failure. They’re more like a check-in. A chance to pause, see where I am, and adjust course if I need to.

An FTP test day definitely isn’t a rest day. But it is a chance to regroup. And after everything that’s happened lately, regrouping sounds like exactly what I need. So we’ll see where the numbers land.

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

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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Triathlon vs My Stress | Swimming, Cycling, Running for Mental Health

I got into triathlon thinking it would be a way to stay fit.

And I guess it is. I’m in better shape than I was before.

But that’s kind of become the side effect.

What I didn’t expect is how much it would change the way I relate to myself — how I handle stress, how I respond when things feel hard, how aware I am of what’s going on in my body from moment to moment.

Each part of it gives me something different.


SWIM — Breathing

Swimming is where I become aware of my breathing. In the rest of my life, it happens in the background.

When I’m sitting at my computer for most of the day, I don’t always notice what’s happening in my body. I’ll be deep in a paragraph or an email, trying to get it just right, and at some point I realize I’ve been holding my breath. Not dramatically — just subtly. It’s like I’m bracing against something invisible.

I think a lot of adult life feels like that. You’re juggling decisions, responsibilities, expectations — and you don’t always realize how much tension you’re carrying because that’s just normal life. 

Swimming interrupts that.

The first few minutes in the water are always humbling. My breathing is off. My stroke feels rushed. The water doesn’t automatically soothe me. It forces a choice: focus and settle, or rush and unravel. If I don’t breathe properly, if I rush, if I don’t time it right, I feel it immediately.

So I slow down. I turn my head and take one breath. I let it out slowly underwater. I start counting strokes. There’s something about the repetition — inhale, exhale, reach, pull — that widens my chest again. The thoughts don’t disappear, but they lose their sharp edges.

Swimming reminds me that breathing isn’t automatic when you’re stressed. And when I leave the lake, the ocean, the pool, I feel like something inside me has expanded, the way a balloon slowly fills when you stop pinching the opening.


CYCLING — Going Places

If I’m honest, without cycling my world can become very small. I can live within the same five blocks for weeks — home, the coffee shop, the grocery store, back home again. It’s efficient, but it’s also constricting. My routines get tight. My perspective narrows without me realizing it.

Cycling changes that.

When I clip in and start pedaling, the city opens up in a way that feels earned. Distances that once felt far become manageable. Neighbourhoods connect. Hills that look intimidating from a car become something I can climb with enough patience.

It reshapes my relationship with Vancouver. I feel like the city is riding with me, not just around me. The wind shifts near the water. Roads I’ve driven a hundred times suddenly have texture. I stop skimming across the surface and begin to feel its contours. The place stops being a backdrop and becomes something responsive, something I’m in silent dialogue with.

The city still gets on my nerves — drivers who don’t signal, tourists stepping into traffic without looking, random construction that reroutes everything. It can be inconsiderate and unpredictable, like a friend in a bad mood. But moving through it this way, feeling all of that up close, makes the relationship deeper. 

Cycling gives my thoughts somewhere to stretch. I don’t have to solve anything while I ride. I just keep turning the pedals, letting the road unfold in front of me. My focus stays narrow and immediate, and gradually the mental noise spreads out. By the time I get home, my mind feels at ease — like it’s been gently massaged back into place.


RUN — Finding the Line

There’s a point in almost every run where I start to turn on myself. My legs feel heavier than they should. My breathing gets louder. I become hyper-aware of how far I still have to go. And then that voice shows up — telling me I’m not as fit as I thought, that I should’ve trained harder, that maybe I’m just not built for this. It asks why I’m even trying.

The worst part is how convincing it sounds — and how familiar.

It sounds a lot like the voice that shows up during regular life — when I’m overwhelmed by responsibilities, or stuck on a problem I can’t immediately solve, or just tired of being competent for one more thing. There are moments in adulthood where I quietly wonder if I have anything left to give.

Running gives me a controlled space to meet that feeling.

Out there, the discomfort is clear. It’s physical. It rises predictably. And instead of avoiding it, I practice staying with it. I pay attention to where the real limit is and where the imagined one is. I learn the difference between “this is hard” and “this is impossible.”

Most of the time, it’s just hard.

So I keep going — not heroically, just steadily. One step, then another. And with each kilometer, I’m collecting evidence. Evidence that I’m a little stronger than I was a minute ago. Every stretch where I don’t stop becomes a small receipt I can carry with me: I’ve been here before, and I kept moving.

That memory carries into the rest of my life. When I’m frustrated or unsure or stretched thin, I recognize the sensation. It’s the same edge. And I know that I can stand on it without immediately stepping back.

Running doesn’t make life easier. But it makes me more familiar with discomfort.

And sometimes, that familiarity is enough.


I don’t think I’m doing this to check things off anymore.

It’s become more of a routine. Something I come back to that helps keep me steady as life keeps changing, as new challenges come up, as I try to find some kind of balance.

Not perfect balance. Just enough.

So I’ll keep doing this. And I’ll keep sharing what that looks like — trying to balance a bit of freedom with the discipline it takes to keep going.

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

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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Bungee Jumping vs Skydiving: Which One’s Actually Scarier?

Skydiving was something I always wanted to do. And this summer with the encouragement of my mother. We went and did it. 

It was a lot of fun, and the best way for me to describe that experience was that it’s like a dream, where you wake up and you still have fragments of that memory, and you are just trying to piece it all together and feel that same feeling again. I definitely see how it can be addictive. 

I felt pretty calm the whole time. The night before, I fell asleep listening to a podcast about D-Day and about how the paratroopers had to drop into France in the dead of night. I found that to be quite comforting as it allowed me to put that into perspective and come to terms with my own courage and how I’m doing it recreationally and not dropping into a war zone. 

My approach when it comes to doing something stressful like that, whether it’s bungee jumping or skydiving, is to turn my brain off. Once you do that, you just remember what you have to do. This is actually really easy for me, because as a job, I’m a marketing strategist. So I spend a lot of time during the workday thinking about things. A lot of things. 

So when I get an opportunity to turn off my brain, I enjoy it. When I get an opportunity, to follow some simple instructions like once the door to the airplane opens, pull your leg over, and just hang there. That’s easy. So yeah. 

Once I got flung out and into the free fall, that was a rush. It’s very windy, and the world feels so distorted and strange — it doesn’t even seem real. That’s the biggest difference from bungee jumping, because when you’re bungee jumping, the world comes right at you, and that feeling of plummeting toward the ground is so real and raw. When you’re falling from 10,000 feet, you don’t get that same experience.

When I was bungee jumping, especially when it’s your first time, my instincts just took over, and I started reaching out and grabbing things to stop myself, but there is obviously nothing. Doing that kind of pulled me off balance, and as you can see, I got twisting out of control. So fun. 

So yeah, back to skydiving. You’re just free-falling for a few seconds — probably between 10 and 30 — not long, before the parachute deploys. And that’s such a relief. It’s kind of the same feeling as when the bungee cord catches you and you don’t splat on the ground. There aren’t many feelings like that in life, so that was great.

From this point on, the experience is actually quite similar between skydiving and bungee jumping. You get this second ride — a second experience. With bungee jumping, you’re bouncing up and down, and the second bounce is almost as high as the first drop. That’s great because now you know the cord will hold you. With skydiving, it’s more like sightseeing — I was just trying to soak it all in.

But what really made me want to do it again was that my tandem partner, the instructor, gave me the handle to control the parachute, letting me steer. I didn’t know how to do it properly, but when you really pulled on it, it felt like a rollercoaster drop — you get swung sideways and really feel the Gs. That was awesome, and I would love to feel that again. I don’t get to go on too many rollercoasters these days, but that was incredible.

When it comes down to it, skydiving and bungee jumping often get clumped together, but they’re actually very different experiences. I’d say if you really want that “I’m going to die” feeling, bungee jumping is for you. I’ve done bungee jumping both forward and backward, and I’d recommend going forward so you can see the world coming at you — although backward is really scary too.

If you want more of a rollercoaster ride, then go skydiving. I don’t know if I can explain it any better. 

Both are so much fun, and I recommend giving both a try it’s so worth it! 

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Cypress Challenge 2025 – Can I Finish This 12km Climb in Under 1 Hour?

Today was the day. The Cypress Challenge.

A 12-kilometer ride, 700 meters of climbing, and a race I wasn’t totally sure I was ready for.

I parked, got my gear sorted, tried to settle my nerves. I’ve been training, sure—but that question kept echoing: Did I do enough? You never really know until you’re out there.

Before the climb even started, I had to descend. And honestly? That part freaked me out.

I hadn’t practiced much. Thirty minutes of descending wasn’t something I’d ever done, and I really felt it in my hands—worried that I’d pull the brakes too hard and go over the handlebars, or just lose control and go careening off the road.

I kept coming back to this piece of advice I heard once—that descending is all mental. And if you want to enjoy it, just say it out loud: I love descending!

So I did. Over and over, like a mantra.

Then a deer crossed the road in front of me. And you know, from that point on, I did love descending.

The start line park was beautiful that morning—clear views of the water and UBC. Hard to believe I’d been riding over there just a week ago.

Around me, riders were quietly doing their own prep. I had some cramping from the descent, so I used the time to walk it off and stretch.

Now, all that was left was to wait for the race to begin.

I lined up at the back of the under-one-hour group.

It felt ambitious.

I’ve never done a timed hill climb like this before, but something in me wanted to see what was possible. Worst case, I’d blow up. Best case? I’d surprise myself.

When the race started, I settled into a pace that felt manageable.

Not easy, not hard—just steady.

I reminded myself: it’s a long climb. No need to burn out early.

The first half went by smoother than I expected.

But after that midpoint sign? Everything changed.

My legs started screaming. The road felt longer. The crowd thinned out.

I just kept chipping away. This was the part I wasn’t sure if I was prepared for.

So I stopped thinking about the finish.

I picked a rider ahead of me and just… followed.

Not racing them—just borrowing their rhythm.

It gave my mind something to hold onto while my body kept grinding.

I kept glancing down at my new bike computer.

I’ve got my watch, but this was different.

Just like those Form swim goggles I used in my last swim race—something about seeing numbers helps me get through the pain.

Weirdly, watching the distance barely tick forward made it easier.

I wasn’t moving fast. But I was moving.

And somehow, I made it!

Gun time: 59:59.

I laughed when I saw it. One second to spare.

I have a knack for coming really close to the wire with my finishes—having completed a few run races with just a second over the minute. I don’t really know what this says about me. But I don’t mind it.

Getting to the top felt incredible.

Not just because it was hard. Not just because I hit the time.

But because it reminded me: this is only the beginning.

There’s a whole world of rides, challenges, and climbs ahead.

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Preparing to Climb Mt. Cypress, West Vancouver | Cypress Challenge 2025 Journey

2 Weeks from Cypress Challenge

This summer is flying by. Honestly, this whole year is. Sometimes it feels like my life is flashing before my eyes. Most days are just the same routine: wake up, work, sit at a computer, eat, sleep. The days tick by, and it’s kind of terrifying.

There’s not much we can do to stop time. We’re all getting older—it’s just something we have to accept. But while that’s inevitable, there is a way to make life feel more alive: do something new. So today, I’m doing exactly that. I’m cycling up Burnaby Mountain to SFU.

SFU’s one of my favorite spots in the Lower Mainland. I’ve always had good memories here. I was never a student, but back in the day, I’d come up just to take advantage of the student bar discounts. Like I said—good memories. And today feels like a mix of nostalgia and preparation for something ahead.

This ride is part of my training for a challenge I’ve set for myself in two weeks: the Cypress Challenge. SFU sits at the top of a mountain, but compared to Cypress, it’s only a quarter of the climb. So while today’s ride is a decent workout, it’s just a warm-up for what’s coming.

Time’s moving fast, and I never seem to have enough of it. Cycling, as a hobby, takes a lot of time—and long four-hour rides have been hard to squeeze in lately. My training’s been compact, and today’s ride is no exception. Still, I wanted to get at least a few climbs in before the big day. And this one counts.

I’m a small guy, which helps on climbs, but that doesn’t make them easy. Still, I love the challenge. I like the suffering. I like how it becomes a mental game. Being on a bike, knowing that if you stop, you lose momentum—it creates this pressure that somehow invigorates me. Climbing a mountain on a bike reminds me that I’m alive.

Time’s rushing past. Relatives are dying. Friends are having babies. Everyone seems too busy to do anything anymore. So the fact that I made it out here today, that I’m climbing this mountain—it feels like a small metaphor for surviving in the modern world. You work, you sweat, you push yourself to reach the top… only to come back down.

That’s endurance sports. That’s creative work. That’s life.

I’m cycling the Cypress Challenge to raise funds for pancreatic cancer research. Thanks to everyone who donated—I really appreciate it. Together, we’ve raised over $1,000. Thank you so much.

Now… let’s ride up SFU and look ahead to Cypress. I’m still here. I’m not on my deathbed yet. How do I know? Because there are still memories left to make. Life hasn’t fully flashed before my eyes—not yet.

Today is one week before the Cypress Challenge—a 700-meter climb up one of Vancouver’s North Shore mountains. It’s a charity ride for pancreatic cancer, and when I signed up, I knew I’d have to start finding some hills to train on.

Last week, I climbed SFU. This week, I went to another university I’m not enrolled in—UBC.

UBC is a bit of a labyrinth. Every time I ride here, I get a little lost. But that’s part of the fun. I’ve found a couple of climbs I really enjoy around this area, and those are what I tackled today.

Honestly, training for this ride has become more than just preparation—it’s been an excuse to get out the door. An invitation to explore places I wouldn’t normally go. I’ve ridden to beaches I would visit otherwise, through neighborhoods I’ve never passed, down roads I didn’t know connected.

Lately, travel’s felt far away—too expensive, too time-consuming, too complicated. But every time I throw a leg over my bike, it feels like a little trip. A brief escape from whatever’s waiting on my laptop or buzzing on my phone. 

Training gives my days structure. A shape. And even when I’m tired, even when the hill ahead looks brutal, I’m glad for it—because it means I get to go somewhere.

It’s not just about the Cypress climb next week. It’s about all the quiet victories along the way—the early mornings, the sore legs, the new routes, the accidental detours.

And maybe most of all, it’s about showing up. For myself. For this cause. For the people who are climbing much harder mountains than I ever will on a bike.

So yeah—today was another ride, another climb. But it also felt like a reminder: I’m lucky I get to do this. I’m lucky training pushes me to try, to move, to explore.

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First 1K Open Water Swim Race

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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How I’m Preparing for Triathlon Training

Today, I’m off to get inspired! The T100 Vancouver race is happening at the Spanish Banks-Locarno Beach area, so I’m riding over this morning to check it out and hopefully catch some of the pros at the start.

I’ve been toying with the idea of doing a longer triathlon distance, and the T100 feels like a solid goal for a year or two from now. Honestly, if I had the time to train properly, I could probably attempt it this year—but the bike and run would be brutal.

Still, it’s good to have goals. Good to have something that fuels you. Seeing this event come to Vancouver gives me a jolt of energy—and hey, this city is awesome, so why not soak it in?

So, I decided to go watch and kick off my next training block with some inspiration.

After finishing my first triathlon of the season—a sprint race in the rain—I had a five-week gap before my 12-week Olympic triathlon plan begins. The big question was: what do I do with those five weeks?

The first week was for rest, obviously. But after that, I realized there wouldn’t be much room in my training plan to build run speed. I want to be faster on the run this time around, so I put together a four-week run-focused block to raise my pace. The idea was to build speed now, so when I start triathlon training, I already have a strong run base to work from.

I committed to it—two high-intensity sessions each week, plus a few easy runs. Week one: 22.46 km. Week two: 19.72 km. Week three: 18.49 km. Week four: I backed off for recovery. Those numbers might not seem huge, but it was nearly triple what I ran during my sprint tri prep.

The goal was simple: get my legs run-fit and raise my base fitness. And according to my watch, I went from 49 to 63 points. Solid progress.

I know I’ve got plenty of running ahead, but it feels like I’ve already chipped away at some of the hardest work. Now, when my 12-week triathlon plan kicks off, I can shift focus to the swim and bike—without stressing as much about run training.

Because let’s be honest: running is awful.

Last year, I struggled to find the freshness to push for speed. This year, I want to run longer and harder on tired legs. That means more brick workouts off the bike. I’m also planning to ride longer and harder—to really get the endurance in my legs so I can finish strong on the run.

I still remember how painful the run was during last year’s Olympic tri. I don’t want a repeat of that. That’s the goal this time: finish strong. So here I am—three solid weeks of hard running behind me, and a good foundation to build on.

Next up: a 1000m lake swim on Canada Day. I haven’t done much to build swim fitness yet, and I was nervous, but after a test swim, I clocked 24:21 for 1000m. Not fast, but it gave me confidence.

My goal is simple: finish, stay calm, and hold pace. Last time I raced a swim, I veered off course and swam 200m more than I needed to. This time, I just want to stay on track and finish around the 24-minute mark. But really—just finishing will feel like a win.

There’s a lot to look forward to, especially today: T100 day. Enjoy the ride from Science World down the seawall, and stick around ‘til the end to check out the sights and sounds of the race.

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