Count down...

I’ve been sweating my upcoming triathlon. I haven’t been training well or consistently, so given I only have 3 weeks before race day, I know I’m racing against an unfriendly clock… it may be too little too late for me… but I will do it anyways. I’ve committed. If I’m last across the finish line, I’ll have to be okay with that… at this point, finishing within the time limit will be a win for me. And if I don’t finish? Well… I’ll live and learn and carry on to a new day… Theodore Roosevelt put it best;

It is not the critic who counts… not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who at best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement… and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat.

                                                                                               

So, I’ll keep going… swims… bikes… runs… all strung together like a beautiful symphony for the hard of hearing… because, what I do isn’t so beautiful… yet! But with each swim session… each bike… every step of my run, I’m getting better… and maybe my great enthusiasms and devotions will prove to be wonderfully beautiful in my minds eye...

Bad Funk...

I’ve been in a funk the past few weeks. Some people call it a mild case of depression, but I won't go that far... I may be a little more irritable than normal... a little less jovial... but depression?

It started with catching a bit of the crud the weekend I volunteered at the Oceanside Ironman 70.3. At least that’s when I think I caught. I went into the weekend a little run down and tired, but I made the commitment so I went. Great day despite being tired…  I got to amerce myself in the world of the Ironman series and see pros like Andy Potts, Michael Raelert, and Mirinda Carfrae finish. I was a finish line catcher and my primary job was to congratulate each athlete and make certain they were okay after their 70.3 mile ordeal. Suffice it to say, I had to carry a lot of people to the medical tents… sweaty, exhausted and smelly bodies… very literally a catcher. I spent close to 11 hours at the Ironman… 8 of those hours catching athletes (did I mention they were sweaty and smelly?), so I guess it wore on me. I came home that night feeling a little crappy. That was a little over a week ago.

This past week I somehow tweaked my back. I suspect I strained a muscle doing nothing out of the ordinary… nothing I can recall anyways. I’ve woken up the past few mornings with back stiffness and pain. Shooting pain that makes itself known when bending over to tie my shoes or breathing too deeply. I enjoy breathing, so I have to keep from enjoying it too much… so no deep breaths. Can I just say, back pain SUCKS! I’ve never had back issues… can’t explain why I would have issues now, although my wife has hinted that it could be related to age… “Hey old man, you’re not 18 anymore!” still painfully rings in my head.

So why does this all matter? From being sick to back pain now? Why the funk? Because I haven’t been able to train in the past 2 weeks. I’ve not gotten a decent swim, bike or run in that means anything. In the meantime, May 22^nd is quickly approaching… an Olympic Distance Triathlon that I am not ready for… at this rate, I have very little hope of posting a half decent finish time. In fact, at this rate I may not even be able to finish. But that doesn’t bother me as much as not being able to get out and grind out miles. I haven’t sweat in weeks… no sunlight on my skin… no endorphins… I’m in bad shape… yes, I call this a funk.

So hopefully the weekend comes and my back pain subsides… swim, bike, or run… I’ve got to nail a session down. Maybe a run Saturday morning… an open water swim on Sunday…  maybe… hopefully… prayerfully… all I know is I've got to get out of this funk... and a little sweating should do the trick...

LA Marathon (the worst day ever?)

Running my first marathon was more than I expected, not in a good way. I expected to be slow, but not this slow. I expected it to be difficult, but not this difficult. I also expected it to be uncomfortable, but I certainly didn’t expect the torrential downpour I had to run in for most of the 26.2 miles. I also didn’t expect the 50 degree temps coupled with 20 mile per hour winds. In fact it was so cold and wet and uncomfortable that at mile 15 I declared this run to be the worst ever. I can’t think of worse conditions… Suffice it to say, I was beyond miserable… but I pressed on.

The course itself was difficult. Steady hill climbs at mile 16, 20, and then 22 made me question my sanity… each climb I thought to myself… “I paid to do this?” The streets turned rivers didn’t help either… but I guess it was a blessing that my shoes were soaked through as my feet were so cold, I couldn’t feel the blisters that had formed and then popped on my feet during my run. I’m certain everyone had the same sentiment about the day… going through the same pain. I heard more than a few people cursing the day. At mile 22 on the dreaded climb uphill, people did more than curse in fact… they grunted in agony and a few actually wept in misery. The streets were littered with people in fierce battles with themselves… mind versus body… and I was one of them. Limping in sheer pain like so many of my fellow runners… grimacing with every step. I had to walk mile 22… I had nothing left like so many around me. It was then the noise from the crowd started kicking in… the screams of “You can do it!”… The crowd of people braving the same elements we were, calling people’s names… “Go John!” Total strangers would call, kindly offering their encouragement… so I started to jog at mile 23… that jog turned into a steady yet painful run. In pain, I focused on the ground in front of me and said a prayer asking for a little strength. My slow jog then turned into quicker steps and soon I was running again. Mile marker 24 came and went, and my body was growing more and more unhappy, but I kept going… mile marker 25 brought more cheers from the crowds with a few hi-fives. “One more mile!” the crowd shouted… so I pressed on. The last mile seemed to last for eternity... running toward the finish felt like the longest mile of my life... but I finished… I ran 26.2 miles. Wet,cold, in pain, tired... but oddly satisfied and happy. I can't wait for the next one!

(By the way, to give you an idea of how cold and miserable it was… one of the guys I carpooled with was taken to the hospital having suffered from hypothermia… that’s right! Hypothermia! Sadly, there were quite a few people in the hospital being treated for the same thing…)

Hardware

My wife bought me a display for my medals and racing bibs. I have them all proudly displayed in the loft against an empty wall. I like looking at them. They are physical reminders of what is possible through commitment, determination, hard work, focus, and maybe a little bit of crazy. They are finishers medals… given to anyone that finishes an event. As long as you walk across that finish line before the cut off time, you’re assured one. The fact that all finishers receive one doesn’t make it any less valuable to me though. From the fourteen year old sharing a moment alongside mom and dad, to the 75 year old grandmother celebrating life… every finisher gets one… and I like that. After all, to be a finisher not only means I started… but I persevered to the end. Yeah… I like my medals.

Dumb training mistakes... the importance of fuel...

I keep making mistakes with the most basic of things when it comes to training… This entire weekend is a great example of how little I put in to use the small bits of training knowledge I have learned over the year. Maybe it’s that I suffer from that horrible affliction known as “middle-aged-guy-forgets-he’s-not-18-anymore-itis” (look it up, it affects most men over the age of 30). But although I have read the basics of training and will even talk to that knowledge in any number of circles, I don’t always practice them myself… simply put… sometimes, I’m just dumb.

I went for a moderate ride yesterday. Short distance of an out and back route of an hour and a half. First half of the ride is uphill, which means having to grind it out… which honestly, I’m not very good at. I chose a spinning gear and went to work trying to keep up with my training partner who made the ride seem easy. After about 45 minutes we finally hit the steepest portion of the ride to where our turnaround would be… he made it first and I slowly followed, but he looked fresh and I looked like a wet rooster that was just de-feathered. I had to unclip and climb off the bike to get my bearings… light seemed to fade in and out momentarily… I was getting light-headed… I started losing feeling in my extremities… I was done. I knew my mistake… I underestimated the ride and over estimated my fitness… I didn’t fuel before leaving the house which is maybe the rookiest of all rookie mistakes to make. Luckily I was smart enough to bring electrolyte gel and water. I downed both… and after spending a few moments laying on the bike path I felt my energy level come back… I was ready to ride again… mistake behind me.

So, I woke up this morning swearing I wouldn’t make the same mistake again. I gave myself plenty of time to eat and stretch before heading out to run 18 miles. In fact, I gave myself so much time the sun was shining pretty brightly and it felt unusually warm. But, I had to get in 18 miles today so I headed out with 2 electrolyte gels and 2, 12 oz bottles of water strapped to my fuel belt. I ran from Lake Forest up Irvine Blvd thru the city of Irvine to the city of Tustin… the heat wasn’t horrible, but I found myself needing the water… I was thirsty and by mile 12 I was out of water… Another dumb rookie mistake. I didn’t drink enough water the day before and had nothing more than a glass of water during breakfast… I was thirsty and I had 6 more miles to run and it was getting warmer. I had no choice but to gut it out and finish my run… by mile 16.5 I started feeling the cramps in my left calve… my body stopped sweating and the salt on my skin was dry… I was dehydrated for sure and my body was letting me know it was not happy with me. I finished my run though… but I felt even dumber…

Maybe I needed this weekend… maybe it will sharpen me for the upcoming LA marathon and my training leading up to the OC Tri… Maybe? If anyone sees a guy laying on the side of a trail somewhere with the stink of utter stupidity… please slap him…

First Tri Experience

There are certain moments in life that are beyond words… the moment you fall in love… your wedding day… the birth of your children… your first triathlon. Okay, maybe doing your first Tri isn’t on the usual list, but I’ve got to say… there was something wonderfully satisfying and moving about completing my first Tri. Although my performance was not entirely memorable, the day was. From walking in circles in search of the transition area, to making the attempt to set up our transition areas, to the terrible calve cramps I suffered most of the day, it still ended up being better than I had anticipated. I expected to like it… but I didn’t think I’d love it this much.

Although excited, I thought I’d spare you from too many details… so here are some photos;

My transition area... note the Bed Bath Beyond bag that I know all of the pros use in their transition area... Sweet!

My wonderfully supportive family that braved the cold to cheer me on...

 

I love my wife...



Brad and I at the start of the run (reverse Tri)...



Me during my run... don't I just look fast? (don't answer that)



Bike leg of the race as I began passing people... that was until the cramps started coming on...

Not the most flattering photo, but note the right calve... yes, I was in pain... but I finished...

Despite the physical pain, my first Tri experience was awesome! I'm already planning number two... new obsession? Maybe... life style? Definitely...

Saturday morning

I’m awake at 5:55am… my body no longer allows me to sleep in. My eyes open at the slight glimmer of sunlight… And as the night melts into morning, I lay awake thinking of what I have to do… and it usually involves running or biking… although recently it’s been all running. Training for my first marathon has put me into heavy mileage. Last week was a 20 mile Saturday… today, I get to step back to a 12 mile day… but I’m still toying with possibly doing 22 miles… So I lay awake thinking about things like this… my obsessions… my swim technique… maintaining my bike… deciding on what running shoes to wear… This is a typical Saturday morning.

So, now I’m up with a bottle of Gatorade, a glass of water, vitamins, oatmeal and a banana. I’m dressed for my long run… decided to make it a 12 mile day as the thought of doing 22 in rainy conditions sounds much less appealing than doing 12. I’m eating my oatmeal and downing my banana… trying to get this down an hour before I head out the door. Today is a neighborhood run… no Backbay or Huntington Beach run… no, I’ll be going this run alone. I’ve filled up my Fuel Belt with water and have a single pack of electrolyte gel for mile 7. I’m set… just need to wait that hour for my food to settle, otherwise cramps or some other gastrointestinal issue… so I wait and write.

I choose this over sleeping in… I choose the early morning hours because the family isn’t up yet, so the hours I’m gone are not missed so much. I don’t fit in my training anymore… this has become the norm. My wife no longer asks if I’ll be running or biking… she expects it. It’s no longer a question of whether or not I’ll be out with the early morning sun… she just needs to know when my sweaty, hurting, beat up, exhausted and happy butt will be home again… and yes, I always return home happy and smiling… after all, there is nothing like starting your day exceeding your own expectations.