I’ve been waffling all morning about writing what I’m about to write. But if there is one constant on this blog and website it’s honesty and openness.

I don’t sugarcoat my life. I don’t hide behind “I’m fine” or “all good”. I say it like it is and how I’m really feeling.

So here goes.

I’m struggling. My post-menopausal body (menopause is technically the one-year anniversary of no longer menstruating—after this it’s called post-menopause) is kicking my ass. It is rocking my self-confidence, my body image, and messing with my head.

Yes, I’m taking HRT—hooray for progesterone and estrogel for keeping me feeling calm, banishing the sweats, getting rid of the rage, and helping ease the anxiety.

For me it’s the change in my body and how I metabolize food. I used to know how to eat and what to do to keep muscle mass and stop the kgs from creeping on. Nope, not anymore. It’s so strange because I’ve been post-menopausal for three years now. And it’s been in the last few months when things have gone haywire.

Simply put, I don’t feel good in my own skin. I’ve gained weight and lost muscle. It’s very frustrating. And I’m letting this eat away at my confident, strong self.

And yes, I know if you saw me, you would barely notice that I’ve gained weight or gotten in a bit soft around my stomach and bum. I’m still at a very healthy weight. And it really is only 3 kgs. But it’s more than this—it’s the not understanding how my body operates any more.

So yeah, while I’m just starting on my journey of getting super bike fit again, I’m now having to battle not feeling comfortable in my clothes or with what I see in the mirror.

I know that once I get back to lifting weights again (this week!) and start to learn more about how to eat differently for this new “phase” of life, everything will adjust. But geez, it’s hard to get through this.

I know I’m not alone in this—the number of books, podcasts, articles, etc. that focus on taking back control of the post-menopausal body is staggering. The challenge of course is that every single person is unique so it takes a bit to figure out what works.

So this is it. Just a bit of a frustrating time right now. Soon enough I’ll be back wearing my favourite jeans (I hope) and seeing a return of my arm muscles and overall body strength.

No need for you to worry about all of this. I just wanted to be honest. And frankly it helps me to get this stuff out of my head. I promised myself I would stop ruminating or overthinking and writing posts like this helps me immensely.

P.S. the training side is going great. Back playing hockey twice a week with the occasional bonus third game, riding 3 – 4 times a week on the trainer, getting ready for fat biking season to start, and on Monday I see Luc at The Movement for a weight program. Life is good.

It’s well worth the wait. (I hope)

(If you’re of a certain generation these lines will ring a bell. They are from a Tragically Hip song titled Long Time Running.)

I was scrolling through this website the other day while writing a LinkedIn post and I noticed a pattern. I tend to only post these days when something epic/big has happened: no water, anniversary, Marc’s burst appendix, hockey practice with the Ottawa Charge, swim meet, cyclocross racing, etc.

I’ve been in a bit of a writing drought lately. I chalk this up to having the best of intentions to post here, feeling like I don’t have much to write about, and simply not feeling like sitting down in front of my laptop in the evening.

But hold onto your hats, cause I have big plans to write regularly again. I’m pretty sure I’ve made this promise multiple times… but this time I mean it. Because I have something exciting to write about.

Marc and I have registered to ride the L’Etape Du Tour De France Femmes Avec Zwift.

On August 6, we’ll ride from Vaison-la-Romaine to the summit of Mount Ventoux.

This is a 120 km ride, the last 70 km of which is on the same roads the professional women will race along on August 7 as part of the Tour De France Femmes Avec Zwift.
The highlight of this route is the climb up the legendary Mount Ventoux from Bedoin—15.7 km at an average gradient of 8.8%.

In simple terms: this is a lot. I’ve ridden Mount Ventoux twice. The first time was ridiculously difficult and the second time, I had to get off at the Tom Simpson memorial and walk the final 600 meters.

This event on August 6 will be the “feature” day of riding for us in a two week trip to France to ride up and down mountains, sit in cafes and eat ice cream and read books, visit markets and historical sites, watch the Tour De France Femmes Avec Zwift in real life, and just generally celebrate life.

The really cool thing about the L’Etape is that our anniversary is on August 7 and on August 8, it will be my (our) 10-year stomaversary. I can’t imagine a better way to celebrate both milestones than with my favourite person riding our bikes and enjoying our healthy, fit bodies.

Which of course brings me to why I plan to post more regularly. Back in the early days and years of this website, I diligently chronicled the ups and downs and ins and outs of training for and racing cyclo-cross in Canada, the U.S., and in Europe. I posted daily about everything that was going on, openly sharing my goals, hopes, fears, and innermost thoughts.

While I don’t plan on going this deep (well, who knows, I never know what is going to come out of my fingers when I start writing) this time around, I do want to share my training journey with you.

I’ve got a long way to go to reach the level of fitness I need to enjoy a two-week cycling holiday in France.

I want to go to France knowing that I have the fitness to do a long ride in the morning/afternoon and still have the physical and mental fitness to enjoy the rest of the day.

I want to start the L’Etape on August 6 knowing that I do not need to worry about time cuts and that I will without a doubt complete the event.

I want to be able to ride up mountains and enjoy it.

So this means I need to ride a lot this winter and I’ll be buckling down with my weights to help build more full-body strength.

My plan right now is pretty simple—I’m following the Zwift 12-Week FTP Builder program. I’ve done this program before and found it to be very effective.

I plan to do this program, see where I am with my FTP and then make some decisions from there on the best plan to hit the FTP number I want to have when I get on the plane.

Right now, my FTP is low. It’s 160 watts. For perspective, when I was racing cyclo-cross and was at my peak in 2010, my FTP was 260 watts.

My goal is to reach an FTP of 230 watts. This is a big ask. I’m a 53-year old menopausal woman who hasn’t trained seriously in many years.

Fortunately what I do have is an iron will and deep base of endurance training in my legs and soul. I also know what it’s like to really dig deep in training and racing.

And for my weights, I’m continuing to work with Luc Mahler at The Movement Company—he’s been awesome at putting together a doable and balanced weight program for me.

This winter will be a lot of Zwifting, fat biking, weight workouts, foam rolling, mobility work, hockey, and a little bit of swimming. I can’t wait.

Have you ever heard of the two-bucket method?

I hadn’t heard of it until last week when our well ran dry.

We’re now using the two-bucket method to flush our toilet.

It’s hard to put into words what it’s like to live without any water.

Essentially, everything is a chore:

• Washing our hands – bowl in the sink with a bit of water and some dish soap
• Making a meal – it’s difficult to cook without using water
• Getting a drink – we’re buying big jugs of water
• Showering – fortunately we have friends and Marc’s parents who have offered us their showers
• Flushing the toilet – the two-bucket method works but it’s tricky and if you get it wrong it uses a lot of water
• Laundry – we’re doing it at Marc’s parents in Barrhaven

For about a week now, we’ve been thinking and obsessing about water. It’s funny how much you take something like water for granted until you don’t have it.

I try to remind myself that we’re very fortunate and that there are worse shituations.
But I have to admit, some days I’m running a little low on optimism and a balanced perspective.

Looks like we’ll be drilling a new well. I shudder to think of the cost. But we don’t have an alternative.

Unfortunately we created this drought and overarching climate change reality by ignoring the signs as far back as the 1980’s. It’s only when it hits home that we have a tinge of regret.

Last week the Ottawa Citizen reported on what it’s like to live without water and to have a dry well.

It’s a very well reported and written article. I urge you to read it and think about your water usage and how you can cut back.

What It Means When the Ottawa Region Has A Severe Rainfall Deficit

Even if you live in a large city or town with municipal water, you will feel the impacts of drought (i.e climate change)—higher food prices, fewer birds, bees, animals, power outages, increased fires, power air quality, higher risk of Lyme disease, and the list goes on.

This word sums up what life without water is like: Discombobulating.

A big couple days around these parts for me and Marc.

On August 7th we celebrated our 21-year wedding anniversary. Wow—21 years. I can remember that day like it was yesterday (this is impressive since I often forget the code to unlock my front door).

Here’s some blast from the past photos of our big day at the Lone Star Ranch:

And today is another big day for us—it’s my 9-year stomaversary.

It’s funny, I’m so used to living life with a stoma and ileostomy that I forget that this isn’t normal. That most of you aren’t like me. It’s interesting how the brain and body adjusts to a new normal so quickly.

There are days when I hate this body and what I have to live with. But then I remember the days and years before the surgeries. I was barely living.

My stoma and ileostomy have not cured my ulcerative colitis—but they’ve made life a heck of a lot better. There is still consistent pain and the long-term effects of malnutrition, heavy doses of medications, and depression are a constant reminder that ulcerative colitis and its extra-intestinal effects will always be with me.

This is not a bad thing. It’s a gift. (I’ve written and said this before.)

Perspective. When you know how bad it can get and what you can survive—only then do you really appreciate what you have today.

And in case you’re wondering what a person with a pouch (bag), small intestines sticking out of their abdomen, no colon and rectum, and a barbie butt looks like—here’s a few photos:

See—I kinda look like you!

Geez things sure have been quiet around here for a long while. Sorry about that. It’s not that I haven’t thought about writing, it’s just that I didn’t get around to it.

You know how it is. You have a great idea. You tell yourself you’re going to get on it. And then, something else comes up and the moment has passed.

This is how it’s been for the last couple of months. So much has happened that normally I’d be telling you about, but I really couldn’t catch my breath to sit down and type.

But here I am.

So what’s been going on? February and March were a blur of the unexpected.

A car accident on the way home from a swim meet. I’m okay. The poor Matrix took a good bashing, but fortunately it was fixable.

Then just a couple weeks later, Marc’s appendix ruptured. He had emergency surgery and a five-day stay in the hospital. Fortunately Marc is recovering well and steadily getting back to feeling like himself.

And then last week I had cataract surgery. I learned in December that I had developed a cataract in my right eye. Another side effect of the medications I took to manage my ulcerative colitis. I am super fortunate to have been able to get this surgery done so quickly.

And now here we are. In between all this excitement there was life.

I was lucky to be able to attend a hockey practice with the Ottawa Charge. This was an experience of a lifetime. Definitely two hours that I will never forget. My eyes are a bit watery just thinking about it.

This photo sums up my experience…

I don’t know what I’m trying to say with this summary of the last few months. Maybe that we need to find the silver linings in everything and everyone.

There is a lot of bad news out there right now. And at times like this, it’s hard to find the goodness. But I’m confident you don’t have to look very far to find it. Your family. Your friends. Your neighbours. Yourself.

There is goodness all around us. Acknowledging this and giving ourselves and the people around us a little bit extra grace goes so far in smoothing out the bumps.

Control your controllables. This is all you can do.