Loaded Down

When Training Becomes Escape

Vancouver 2020

Some weight we carry isn’t just on our backs.

Tired. Calves aching. Anxiety spiked.
Wasn’t sure Ironman would be possible anymore.

Vancouver—or rather, a small town just outside of it.
Flying there had been cheaper.
The plan? Ride share into the city, then transit to the Krishna temple.
Should’ve been simple.
Just a bike.
Wetsuit.
Run gear.
Supplements.
Clothes.
What was the thinking?
The whole trip had turned into an escape.
Training, austerity, control—it had all started to unravel, dragging the mind down with it.

Arriving at the temple came with a mission: a run was scheduled.
“Should be easy,” was the thought.
Wrong. The body said otherwise.

Everything felt heavy.
And not just the bags.

Should’ve taken an Uber, but no—trying to save money.
Looking back, it was classic behaviour.
Tight budget. Overtrained.
Piling on hardship to prove something.

It was 2018.
Still tethered to vows and shame.
Still trying to make that version of self work.
The version that fit within the box.

This was the only time staying at the Vancouver temple.
Different energy.
Withdrawn. Masking hard.
Didn’t feel like Montreal or Toronto.
Maybe the space was different or maybe everything inside was beginning to crack.
That visit would be the start of the end.
Leadership meetings missed.
Vows faltering.
A slow, inevitable unraveling.

Eventually, took another bus—this time toward Whistler.
Another test. Another self-imposed challenge.
Everything cost too much.
Ironman wasn’t cheap.
Neither was the rental.
But the ego didn’t care it just pushed forward.

On that bus, mountains rose out of the ocean.
Reggae dub tracks in the ears.
A moment of magic.
Surreal beauty.

Whistler came into view.
One final push.
The bike.
The gear.
The exhaustion.

Checked into the room. Alone.
Dropped onto the bed.
Out cold.

Join me next Saturday as we head to the starting line.
Ironman was more than a race.
It tested everything.
What cracked. What held.
And what had to be left behind.

—Red Shanti