A Beautiful War - The Big Finish

eehhhmmm... errrhhh, um... emerging from the murky swamp of an endless sentence.



Act 2....

In a semi-delusional state I mumble to Kari, "It's time." Unfortunately she hears me and begins to gather necessities and the room key and moves toward the door. I was hoping, somehow, for a response of, "hey, did you hear they postponed the start for 8 or 9 hours ?"

Kari and I head toward transition where I will leave her in hopes of returning as an Ironman. We say our goodbye's, I accept her wishes of luck and in a cloud of nerves and excitement mixed withhealthy dose of exhaustion, I turn and pass through the gates of no return.

Tires re-checked, morning clothes dropped, wetsuit donned...

The Swim

On the banks of the Lake Okanagan I take my place amongst the 2600+ athletes about to embark on 140.6 miles of pain, doubt, strength and self discovery. Moments after finding what I believe is the right place to start my journey, the Canadian anthem begins bouncing off the water and through the hills that surround Penticton, afterwards a stillness followed by the start of the Pro race. Now it's real.

Waist deep in 68 degree water, my eyes closed I take a deep breath and ask God to keep me moving forward. I thank him for my family, my friends, their health, safety and happiness. I say hello to Grandma in hopes she's settling in nicely in heaven and that her and Grandpa were able to get good seats for today's event. With my eyes still closed my attention turns toward the race, Coldplay's performance of "Lost" with Jay-Z at the Grammy's takes over as the sound track in my mind, my head now moving to music I begin to visualize the next 15 hours, the swim, the bike, the run and crossing that line.

"Just because I'm losing doesn't mean I'm lost."

my eyes slowly open and the gun (ok, air horn) sounds.

I quickly tredge forward amongst the masses as if I've been caught in the exiting crowd of major sporting event, after about 20 yards the crowd lowers and starts to swim. Because of the ease into the water and the lack of sleep, I don't seem to have the energy to get nervous or anxious as I usually do at the beginning of a race. There's no talking my self down, no panic to breathe or reagain ryhthm.

Every stroke seems to find my hand on another's foot, another grab from someone else to my leg and I've been smacked in the head enough already that now I'm expecting it.

After a quarter mile of desperately seeking space I finally find it and get into a groove. I'm out far left but I'm happy and it feels like I'm just out for a great morning swim. The first turn to the right comes quickly, with the congested start and quest for open water half of the swim is in the books and I'm close to making the turn for home. The next quarter mile or so is much of the same until I'm once again slammed into by a fellow competitor. This has me surging a bit so I can re-slot myself into an open lane, however, with this somewhat sudden movement my left calf cramps and completely throws me for a loop as I've had foot cramps in the pool, but never leg cramps and I'm not exactly sure what this means. How do I work out a cramp while swimming amongst thousands of other people during an Ironman? What does this mean for the rest of the Race? Am I now going to have to battle leg cramps throughout the race? Is it because I didn't sleep?. ...deep breath (as deep as possible given I have to re-insert my head into the lake), relax, ok....I manage to slow the cramping by focusing on kicking with only the right leg for a bit and then slowly work the left back into the mix.

I don't seem to have fallen off my original pace and now when I sight I can see the shoreline approaching and briefly hear the crowd welcoming folks back to the beach. This re-energizes me and gets my mind off my calf. Knowing the end to the swim is close I focus on quick and efficient strokes and head for shore. At this point the congestion returns but doesn't seem to be a factor, the bumping, hitting and scrambling for position are overshadowed by the fact that 112 miles on the bike await.

I'm just about home and can see folks ahead of me getting to their feet and stumbling through waist deep water. I swim until my hands begin to hit the lake bottom and I too get to my feet. In doing so I realize that the crowd has worked themselves into the water forming a finish chute into T1. This is awesome... This is Ironman Canada.

The Bike...

Out of the water and into transition, I reach the wetsuit strippers. I had been battling all week about whether or not I'll utilize these fine upstanding strippers of wetsuits, so when they seemed to all be taken I decided to move on and take my own suit off, but before I had the chance I was being asked to assume the position... so, um... I did and wow, these guys are good. I think we should have personal apparel strippers for all occasions...ahh, ok, moving on.

Sans wetsuit I jog hurriedly toward my swim to run bag and don my bike gear. Extra tube and air in my jersey pocket I head around the back side of the change tent to my bike. As I affix my helmet I hear the familiar and needed voice of Kari. Luckily she’s just beyond the transition area fence and I’m able to say hello and that I’ll see her again in about 7 hours.

On the bike I begin the journey out of town scanning the sides of the road for the rest of my family. Unfortunately I don’t see them, but I know they’re out there somewhere with words of, “sweet, now we can get breakfast.”

The first 40 miles of the bike course are flat or downhill except for a small hill at about mile 11 or 12. On this quick stint upwards I hear a shotgun blast in the distance; someone blurts outs, “they’re picking off the stragglers!” Great, I’m doomed, 12 miles in and I’m being shot at. Come to find out this is some measure to keep pesky creatures out of farmland and vineyards.

Once up the hill it’s smooth sailing to Richter Pass, the first real climb. As I approach Richter I can see the droves of wheels and spokes about a mile off to the right, all pointed towards the sky. The first real test is here. Once into Osoyos I make the sharp turn to the right, drop to my smaller gears and spin.

I stick to my plan of being very conservative on climbs just because I have no idea how my legs will react to this bike course and running a marathon afterwards. Richter is somewhat lengthy but very manageable and not as steep as it could be. It was actually a great deal of fun with the incredible support we had lining the street all the way to the top. There were times where it felt like I was peddling through a tunnel of personal cheerleaders, all cheering for forward progress.

Richter is a set of 4 back to back climbs, it’s one hill, but you get 3 breaks. During the steepest portion the sweat builds and my legs are now well aware of the task at hand. With the top of the hill in sight a calming satisfaction hugs my inner being as the largest hill on the course is in the books and has my sweat all over it.

After Richter it doesn’t necessarily get easier as now we tackle the rollers, this is where much of the damage can be done to your legs. The pros power through these with ease, but I must be as efficient as possible, both on the downhill and up.

I manage to escape the rollers with gas in the tank and take on the generally flat section that lies between me and Yellow Lake. This stretch seems to be the longest, and now some lovely headwinds have joined the party. Trying to break the course up in my mind a bit my goal now is to get to special needs in the middle of the out and back loop, grab my sandwich, stretch and gear up for the home stretch.

I reach special needs and notice that the bikes behind me are thinning out. It now hits me that I’ve probably let the headwinds beat me up some and I’m dragging. Sandwich down I continue to peddle towards Yellow Lake and home. Funny enough I am now looking forward to my next climb as once it’s here and once I tackle it I’m home free, almost all downhill to the transition area.

Wish granted….. we’re climbing. 20 minutes pass…. we’re still climbing. Wow, I have nothing but slow in me now. I’m not hurting by any means but all added effort seems wasted. Out of the saddle, in the saddle, focus on efficiency, focus on power… nothing. Slow and not so steady I make it up to the lake. Wheeew! All good. A fan yells out, “you’re up! no more hills. All down from here.”

Liar, she is a Liar. I find myself encountering yet another hill. I’m sure if I go back to take a look at this beast it will seem like nothingness, but right now flat seems like up and this up feels nothing short of rude.

I manage to peddle past the next two short uphills and now we’re truly headed in the right direction, down. Catching my breath, resting legs and consuming calories I cruise back into Penticton, happy. Now it feels like I could go another 112, but I opt not to and I’m all grins heading into the transition area and to that lovely dismount line. I am greeted by the beautiful sound of my family cheering my return. I can sense in my Mother’s exuberance that I was supposed to be here an hour ago.

The Run

Changing into my run gear I take my time, re-apply sunscreen, stretch yet again, breathe and head out. Having no idea what my legs have in store for me I jog cautiously out of T2, wave to the Fam and begin the last portion of this little adventure. Funny enough, with 26.2 miles ahead of me, I feel good, I feel like somehow I’m almost done.

Thrilled to no end, my legs are moving and although I’m no where near my normal 7:30 min pace, I’m ru…jogging. Miles 1 through 5 down and I’m almost out of Penticton. Approaching the aid station at mile 6 reality hits and it brought leg cramps with it. Almost limping into the aid station I have to stretch out 2 separate cramps, right quad and left calf. I walk through the aid station, grabbing some Gatorade and water, and slowly work back into a run.

This is the pattern all the way to the turnaround in Okanagan Falls, run mile to mile, stretch when needed, walk the aid stations and repeat. Sun setting and without reason, I feel a little nervous that I have 13.1 miles left and 4, 4 and a half hours until cutoff, just because of a slight fear that my legs will lock up and I may have to power walk all the way home.

Outside of 2 hills early in my 13 mile return to Penticton I am able to run, I continue the practice of walking through the aid stations until about mile 18. As I start to reach city limits I am engulfed in childlike giddiness. I’m gonna do this, I can almost see the lights of the finish line, I’m gonna do this. I reach 23 or so and I am greeted by a fantastic surprise. Dan had jogged out from the finish line and found me on the course just before I make the turn into the city. Jogging along side me we chat about the day of being super endurance spectators, here is where I learned that through a meeting of the minds a decision has been made to check out of the Lakeside Resort and Casino and head for Kelowna tonight, away from club Sleepless. Without breaking stride Dan jumps on the phone to announce he’s found me and I’m on my way home.

Dan continues with me to the next aid station and then breaks off as I tap the tanks and kick it into final stretch gear. The next 2 and a half miles seem to be the easiest. About a mile out I’m at the finish line and need to make one last little out and back before I’m into the finish chute. Reaching that turnabout I’m greeted by fast approaching lights and loud roars as finishers are announced and the grin returns to my face, I’m home, I’m here, I’ve finished.

Into the Chute…

I hit the lights, the stands are jammed, the speakers and PA system are shaking. Although I am most likely at the same pace I feel like I’m sprinting to the line, as I get to the screaming masses I’m greeted by Journey (singing)…”Just a small town boy….” High fiving fans lining the finish chute I want to turn around and do this again, perhaps I can spend the next 2 hours just repeating this experience over and over and over again. The clock reads 14:57….nope, I am crossing that line under 15 hours. Refocused and half way down the chute, palms to the sky, I motion both hands upward in a sweeping motion in attempt to get the crowd even louder. They do, holy #@%& they DO! Incredible. Fans screaming, I cross the line..

A Beautiful War - the Finale (act 1)

7 p.m., Saturday August 29th….it’s the night before race day. In the morning I will gather with 2600 of my closest friends on the edges of Lake Okanagan where at 7 a.m. we’ll begin our 140.6 mile adventure through the beautiful British Columbia countryside. I survey the room for the 100th time, ensuring everything is in its place for the 5 a.m. wake up call. Race kit? Check… breakfast? Check… bottles for the bike? Check… girlfriend digging into her book and preparing for the early night? Check.

With everything indeed in its rightful home I slip into bed and attempt to focus some aimless attention toward the T.V. We find My Cousin Vinny playing on one of the local channels and settle on it with hopes that there’s no chance I make it to the credits and in no time we’ll be greeted by race day morning….. wait, Race Day? You mean as soon as I shut my eyes and drift off it will be the morning of race day? The day I’ve been focused on for the last 7 or 8 months? Sweet, here goes my mind… looks like I’m taking in the entire show.
The riveting courtroom drama that is My Cousin Vinny wraps up with Marissa Tomei and Joe Pesci racing down a highway and I’m instructed to find “what’s next.” I keep it on the same channel hoping there’s another similar adventure to lose myself in… nope; just some “my space ship is better than your spaceship” show and at this point I could care less what’s on, just want the noise in the background. I hand the controls off, adjust the pillow and begin to fade.
At a moment of peace, knowing it’s 8:45 p.m. and I have plenty of time to fall asleep and get a full nights rest I notice the channel flipping has ceased and it looks as if we’re settling in on the next mindless adventure. The scene: opening credits to a deep ocean view… no or inaudible music…. Credits continue, both of us now anticipating the title of our next film de jour, the music begins and the volume slowly increases…. Fantastic, Kari has settled on JAWS.
After a moment of laughter the channel is changed and a more appropriate show is found. Now, with little interest in the happenings on the tube, I slowly begin to fall asleep with thoughts of race day still managing to slip through.

9:30 p.m….. not quite asleep, but close.

OK… I need you to close your eyes (fine, pretend they’re closed or have someone else read this paragraph to you), take yourself back to that Thursday night in college where it was time to take on the weekly tradition of Thirsty Thursday at your favorite get your groove on establishment. No doubt someone in your gaggle has just said something about them just wanting to DANCE and they had no care for any potential suitors this particular night. Now, find yourself at that moment where the bouncer has just checked your ID and without looking any where near your direction waves you through. You open the door and the latest, but freshly remixed by DJ Jazzy Jumper Cables, hit song greets you with profound concussion…. This is now my life. Club Doesn’t Give Hoot just opened their doors below us and for the next 5 hours my sleep will be thwarted by the styling’s of Mr. Jumper Cables and his wheels of steel.

After countless trips to the restroom and to the non-functioning air conditioner I re-position for what seems to be the 954th time (sorry Kari). I grab my phone to check the time, I have yet to fall asleep… the phone reads 2:30 a.m. Now I begin the “if I fall asleep now I can still get 2 and a half hour's of sleep” game. I do this for the next 2 hours and 15 minutes. Its 4:45 a.m. race day morning, now…. I just have to get up.

In my delusional state of consciousness I put on my race gear and attempt to throw down breakfast. With the first round of breakfast down I grab my special needs bags, my air pump and my nutrition to install on my bike then make for body marking and the special needs drop off all while convincing myself that I can indeed do this with no sleep.

Body marked, bike tires filled with air and special needs bags dropped I head back to the room to relax, grab some more calories and put on the wetsuit.

With my wetsuit on half way I take in the sunrise from the balcony….it beautifully calm. This is where I begin to not have the most accurate view of the day’s accounts. Kari steps out to the balcony with her camera to capture the morning and my preparations. I strongly believe my reaction was one of humor with the quip of “you can’t take my picture… my mouth is full” (must read in purely exceptional tone and timing)… later accounts have me “snapping” back with something along the lines of “don’t get me in the picture, I’m eating”…. I have requested the security tapes from the Lakeside Resort and Casino for further review.

Intermission

…. This is where Eric formulates the best possible jab for me writing a novel to this point and we haven’t even hit the water yet……….

To be continued….9/16

A Beautiful War - Part 1

8:30 p.m., July 18th, race day eve and I'm going through the list one last time:

Bars... check

Gels... check

Race kit... set out on the chair waiting to greet my early a.m. rise...check

Sun block...check

Running gear... out at T2 already, check

Bike Tubes...check

Air... check

Bike... check

Sun glasses.. check

goggles... check

All race numbers and bibs are in their place. Now I look for more to prepare, back and forth, car to hotel room, transition bag to bike.. there's more right? If there's not I have to go to bed, if I go to bed I have to go to sleep, if I go to sleep it will be morning, if it's morning, well, it's time to race.

8:45 p.m., lying in bed watching grown men bounce off oversized whoopie cushions and being thrown about by gyrating piston powered trampolines my laughter momentarily keeps my anxiety at bay.

8:59 comes all too quickly and credits roll on this genius of a program they call wipeout. Brushing teary remnants of the hilarity from my face I shut the television off, wrestle the 23 pillows into a position of somewhat comfort and start to drift off.

9:15 p.m., the ceiling is beautiful this time of night, I really love what the America's Best Value Inn has done with the place.

9:23 p.m., SLAM! jolted from my drift into the night I realize I now have neighbors and what's left of the walls are thin, holding nothing back.

9:30 p.m., running through race day in my head, trying to get myself to thoughts of readyness, calm, peace. It doesn't come, but I drift off back into the land of dreams

Swim

It's 4:45 a.m., I'm rested and awake. I grab my alarm and shut the 5:15 a.m. wake up call off and grab breakfast. Bike now into the car, race kit on, checked out of the ABVI (America's Best Value Inn), one last look around the room, door shuts and I'm off and down the road where the Russian River awaits my entry.

With the sun peaking out over the horizon through fields of drunken fruit I venture north on Highway 101 and onto River Road toward Guernville, a town so lost in Patchouli oil it failed to spell check it's own historical snapshot written on the welcome sign (next time you visit, check out the sign outside the Safeway parking lot).

I arrive in sleepy Guernville and park in a vacant lot which is currently being pimped out by the local high school at 5 bucks a pop, donations of course, no requirement... an "it's all good man" approach," get me on the way back". I happily fork over the 5 bucks but quickly make them aware that if a certain father figure shows up he's going to be quite miffed there's no lemonade stand and if this donation is going to the high school why are those darn kids still in bed and not out here at the crack of dawn with everyone else?

Swim and bike gear in tow I head down to Johnson's beach to set up transition. I stumble through the crowd of anxious athletes and find myself aware that I have not been keeping the best track of time. The pro field is taking to the gates and I'm up in 4 waves. Still I have some time and I find a place on the appropriate rack, set up transition, get body marked and take a deep breath. On my walk out of transition I run into my PowerBar teammate Nicole, wish her luck as I pass and then take to the water.

The Russian River, which takes it's time babbling through wine country is currently hovering around 75 degrees and is about 10 degrees cooler than the outside air. For this 1.2 mile swim I'm choosing to go sans wetsuit, a first in a race for me but the water is just too nice to put a wetsuit on.

Some hootin and hollerin then a squeeze of an airhorn trigger, we're off. I take a nice slow approach to the open water start, get into a good rhythm and begin to slip through the shallow waters. About a quarter mile into the swim I breath to my right, take a stroke, another, sight, stroke, another and again another, breathe...then, abruptly, I come to an immediate stop, crashing into a fellow competitor, who is... um... STANDING UP?! He quickly see's the errors in his ways but, standing? really? Who stands?

This quickly becomes a theme between the 1/2 mile mark and the 3/4 mile mark. I don't give in to the trend and continue to plug along, swimming the traditional freestyle stroke. As I continue to sight every 50 yards or so I get snapshots of the river seen in Brother Where art Thou. A bit of a come to Jesus scene and not one that I was anticipating. It's difficult to laugh and swim at the same time.

Johnson's beach quickly returns to view and we're home, task one of three in the books. I emerge from the river as if I have just returned from a leisurely swim and somehow come to find myself exiting the water amongst a bunch of crazy triathletes. Up the beach to the bike I take my time and go through the Mom checklist: Socks, helmet, food, extra tubes, apply sunscreen, put everything neatly in my transition bag so everything makes it back to the finish line.

Bike

Bike mounted, .01 of 56 miles down. Up the hill out of the beach and East down River Rd. All is smooth and all is well, just taking in the incredible scenery.

Mile 5 we make a right turn off River Rd. onto Sunset. This tight turn was something the Race Director warned us about and without fail there's an ambulance at the turn, but as I get there, slow and make the turn there's no carnage, no fall, nothing. I motor on.

Approaching mile 7, now there's stirring about, some excited movement from the lady with the number one go finger telling us to make a right turn. As we make the turn we see what the fuss is about. There's a tree down covering the entire roadway. We approach, un-clip and duck underneath where we can. In the background there's comments of "wow, I didn't expect an obstacle course," "Do we get points for making it through without un-clipping?" "Man, this is a hard cutoff, seems early." All of this chatter stops when, as we get to the otherside of this fallen member of Mother Nature's army, we find ourselves staring at a downed athlete. Attended to by Emergency crew members he doesn't look at all ok, ice pack on his head, moans from his lips and frantic other riders attempting to explain what took place. With help here we were left to fill in our own blanks and continue on.

After shaking the sight of a downed fellow competitor the miles begin to slip to the rear. A beautiful rolling course through Sonoma County's endless vineyards. This rolling along came to a halt at about mile 30 where I was greeted by my first ever flat tire during a race. I pulled over and began the repair process. Since I'm awesome at changing bike tires this takes some time, I did however get to see Nicole again as she went flying by after making sure I was ok. Which I was, just bummed that I lost about 10 to 15 minutes.

Wheels healed I'm on the road once again. I pass many of those who came by during my timeout and got back into a rhythm. The last 26 miles seem to fly by and I rolled right into transition where for the first time I realized it was frickin HOT. No matter, dismounted the bike and jogged it into T2.

Run

In T2 I found my shoes which after pleading and pleading with higher powers did not turn into rollerblades. Laced up, bathroom breaked, I'm off onto the last portion of this journey.

Mile one flys by, and although I can feel my pesky hamstring it doesn't at all feel like it's going to get worse and this is a huge relief. One foot in front of the other I make the left turn into the first aid station grab some gatorade, hit the homemade misting station and continue with the whole one foot in front of the other thing.

Mile 2 seems to take longer to get to and I find myself now scanning ahead to see where the next opportunity for shade is. It's hot enough now that I'm thinking about it and not about the run.

Mile 3 is a bit of challenge and the shade is beginning to become more and more sparse. I hit the aid station yet again grabbing two drinks, one for inside and one for out. At this point there's a guy on-course on his bike encouraging athletes, but for some reason I'm just annoyed. This is most likely due to the fact that this is an out and back course and most of his words of encouragement are for those at mile 10, a place I desperately want to be.

Mile's 4-7 are more "in the zone" like and stomach issues I was having early were fading. For the first time "rhythm" could be a word associated with my current state. At mile 6.5 / 7 is the turnaround and where a sweet misting station is. It was difficult to not stand there, grab some soap and shower up.

Mile's 7-12, these were the absolute worst of them to the point I'm petitioning to have them removed. At mile 7.5 my inner dialogue had me patting myself on the back with encouraging words of, "man, I haven't had any cramping issue's all year, not since Switzerland a year ago." Mile 8 I was joined on the run by a cramping right leg. What started and stayed in my quad just above the knee also included the calf and foot. The weirdest thing was the foot as I could barely feel it and it was doing stuff I wasn't telling it to. I stopped for a sec and stretched, this slowed the cramping and it never returned to that severity, but made the rest of the run slow and controlled, not sure I would even call it a run.

Amongst the cramping was some overheating, or what I think was overheating. I could feel the heat, I knew I was hot, but I was getting the chills which really threw me for a loop. Just felt uncomfortable, never got to a "I'm losing control" area, but definitely lingered in a weird zone.

12 to 13.1 - This was a great stretch and a horrible stretch, all at the same time. This same road back into Windsor High School that I quickly ran out was longer this time around, this time it was sweltering, dogs were leashing their owners and pulling them toward air conditioning, runners were frequenting the sidelines, some of which looking as if they may not make the last .5.

Out of the high school parking lot and onto the grassy fields that the finish line was currently calling home. No longer cool with the sun I cross the finish line and let one of the many awesome volunteers soak my everything with cool water.

Finisher medal in hand I find recovery beverages (no, not those... protein) and shade. It doesn't take me long to recover and once I am ready to stand again and take on the world I tour the countryside once more collecting my car and bike and then I point all of my belongings south and head towards Los Angeles.

Next.... Canada.

Cats and Dogs - Boise 70.3 Race Recap

Tossing and turning I sit up scoot to the edge of the bed and reluctantly put my feet on the ground to get up for what feels like the 10th time tonight. A combination of constantly hydrating and thoughts of 70.3 miles keeps my sleep in constant intervals and never deep.

After flicking the switch in the restroom back to the off position my thoughts turn to hoping that I am not keeping my bed mate in the same state and she somehow sleeps through my restless night.

After a few position changes mixed with strange and un-connecting dreams I drift off just barely and wake around 8:30 a.m. ready to get the day's race prep started, which for this race seems a bit drawn out.

A day earlier, after having it tuned, I took my bike up to the swim to bike transition, racked it and affixed my helmet to the handle bars. Today I must bring my bike to run transition bag downtown and place it where, hopefully, in about 8 hours I'll re-rack my bike and throw the running shoes on and hit the run course.

10:45 a.m., Saturday, June 13th - all bags are dropped, bikes racked and butterflies are beginning to lightly make their way around my stomach. Now we sit and wait, wait to load the bus and then once at Lucky Peak Reservoir wait to put on the wetsuit and get into the water.

After ample time to let the nerves really kick in, transition closes and the color guard begins to belt out our country's anthem. I pull on the wetsuit, bid farewell to my race support and make my way to the swim start queue.

Moments laters...

The pro's are off and charging through the chilly and oddly turbulent waters of Lucky Peak, then off go the first two age group waves and now, no turning back, I'm in and adjusting to the waters where I'll venture 1.2 miles prior to jumping on my bike for another 56.

Horn sounds and I'm off . With the first few strokes my heart beats a little faster and thoughts of "am I ready for this?," "am I going too fast" "do I breathe every other stroke or every third?""what's rhythm anyway," begin to rattle off in my brain. For some reason I have yet to start a race without a brief moment of panic creeping in, but, sure enough that panic quickly turns into focus on the task at hand.

The first quarter mile or so go pretty quickly, some jockeying for position and random run in's with the next door swimmer, but all in all a good start. As we take the first turn to the right and on to the longest stretch of the swim the choppy waters make their presence known and it's a fight with each stroke. I quickly learn that keeping my head down and slipping through the rough waters is best way to get through this and stay somewhat efficient. Another 1/4 mile in the books and we're about halfway to the next buoy and next right turn. The waters at times begin to show some streaks of violence but never really get too dirty, however, for one swimmer they seem to get to be a bit much as he does his best fish out of water routine and winds up on my back legs. He quickly rights himself and removes his tantrums from my lower half, this wakes me up a bit and forces me to once again re-gain a rhythm.

Another quarter mile down, then another, I am absolutely sure that the swim is taking longer than it should and I'll be getting out around 40 minutes rather than 35. I look up to sight and once again see the docks and the fans surrounding it, my tardiness is now an afterthought as I'm absolutely thrilled that the swim is in the books and I'm about to be off on the bike.

I rise from the reservoir a la The Swamp Thing and begin the walk,run,jog,walk,run, struggle to find the chord to my wetsuit zipper, run, walk, continue in my struggle to find the zipper chord,run,walk, jog to my bike. On my way up the ramp I catch a glimpse of the girl, my breathing slows back to normal and I find my way up to T1.

Wetsuit off, bike shoes race belt and sunscreen on I grab my bike and jog out of transition through a melting, not so inflatable arch, mount the bike and venture out on to a great bike course.

Heading out on the bike down a hill and away from the reservoir, the beginning of the bike course takes you alongside a river with towering rock on each side, and incredibly beautiful beginning to the next 56 miles. Once some distance is put on the reservoir we cross the river and head down Highway 21 and past the airport. Just beyond the airport, around mile 10, the skies open up and heavy rains join an already tough headwind.

Around mile 15 or so we get into some rolling hills and mix in a few climbs while the rain mixes with a touch of hail and then tapers off to light and steady. We make a right off one country road onto the next, then after a mile or so a left onto another. Here we tackle our first substantial climb and the skies begin to open up once more, riders are coming back down this same hill I'm trucking up with cries of "ahhhhhhhhh!!!" mixed one noticeable high pitched "OUCH!" as hard rain beats down on cyclists reaching speeds of 30 to 35 miles an hour all while concentrating on keeping both wheels on the ground.

I make it to the top of the hill, which to my delight resembles nothing of Nasty Grade, make the loop and head back around. It takes seconds to get down as I retrace my steps back on to that original country road and head to the right, away from Boise.

At one point as we climb the pro's pass us at their mile 40 and Chris Lieto has the lead and is absolutely flying, I now feel like I'm crawling and someone is behind me pulling on my bike. I should really be able to make this thing go much faster. Chris was followed by what looked like Craig Alexander (the reigning IM World Champ) and a host of other riders ranging from 2 to 5 minutes back.

For the next 25 miles, it's rolling hills, long flats, puddles and raindrops. We finally get back into town and the last 5 miles are flat to slightly downhill and fast. On my way into town I can hear the race announcer call the men's finish, from the sound of it Chris Lieto and Craig Alexander are coming down the chute together and after 70.3 miles of racing will fight for first in the last 50 yards, unfortunately I don't hear the outcome. I reach T2 with a bike of 3:21 or so, rack my bike and put my soggy feet into my running shoes. After some stretching and a bathroom break I head out onto the run.

As I get out onto the run I pass Samantha McGlone, a PowerBar athlete, as she comes in to finish. I cheer her on as she passes and then turn my focus on knocking off miles and staying at a steady pace. Unfortunately I'm really feeling my hamstring and that pace is a slow one. It's an odd thing this pesky hamstring as it doesn't feel hurt just weak and that if I run too fast it will tighten and then I'm not sure what would be in store.

I'm feeling relatively good, but continue to run the pace that my legs allow. The first 6.5 miles seem to take forever, and as it turns out it felt that way because they did (59 min first lap...yuck), I come upon the turn around point which taunts you with a clear view into the finish chute, a wickedly cruel gesture. I make the turn around, back facing the finish line and make my way back onto the course. I take my first gel of the run, stop at my first aid station and relish in the fact that this is the last lap of a two loop course, every step bringing me closer to the finish line.

At about mile 10 of the run I find my self in back of two runners, (who I refer to as the soggy bottom boys due to the rain taking it's lovely toll on both pair of bike shorts and this amuses me to no end). These two gents are running together and having the most boring, self promoting conversation and it annoys me that I can't shake them. We're running on a small run/walk path along the Boise greenbelt with runners going in both directions, space is at a premium. These two fellas find it appropriate to run side by side while taking up the entire path. I am content to stay behind them for now and look for my chance to pass in about a mile where I hope to pick it up through the finish.

I reach mile 12 and now it's time for the homestretch, water logged shoes and all I pick up the pace a bit, pass the Soggy Bottom Boys, and head for home. Once out of the greenbelt and back onto city streets the finish line is within view and a grin takes it's place on my face and I head for home. Once I reach the finish Chute, PowerBar snowfencing on each side of me, I once again catch the eyes of that beautiful girl, the grin gets bigger, the pace quickens, the speakers call out my name and I cross the line. I am Half an Ironman.

-------

Not that any of them will read this, but I must bring attention to the 1400 volunteers at this race. All of them had the best attitude throughout the long day, attended to the needs of over 1500 athletes, spent countless hours setting up, handing out and breaking down, all with a smile on their face and in the pouring rain. All for a T-Shirt

In the next few days I will add the story of the road trip home, which in itself was a wonderful time and adventure.

-d

Plan B

So, as training, work and that other life stuff begins to be all consuming my remaining posts will be race reports as to ensure quality of content and reduction of ..well, guilt for not updating my blog... there, I said it. FINE... Whew!

Big training weekend ahead, then end of next week I'm in Boise for the IM 70.3 which will be my first race of the year and a good check point.

next up, Boise race recap...

Following posts with be a Vineman 70.3 (half Ironman) recap at the end of July and then the big one first of September, recapping Ironman Canada.

-d

Are we there yet? How Much Longer? I have to ............

So, I think I'm going to change things up a bit.  As training gets longer, work get's busier and sleep becomes a dream in itself I am going to attempt to write more frequently but shorter as to convince myself that I can and I want to take the time to put my thoughts down here. Every once and a while, when I'm bowled over with motivation I'll throw a bit more down for your reading pleasure.

Deal? Deal.

As I sit here in the west...no, sorry, northeast wing of my estate studio de third o' gara'ge with frozen broccoli on my lower left calf and frozen mixed veggies on my hamstring, I revel in another week past which had me taking more steps beyond my bout with swine sars flu (common cold, but still, got pretty gnarly for a sec) and two more training sessions that took me to new places.  

Saturday I rode 110 miles on the streets of Orange County in and around Irvine, Mission Viejo, Lake Forest, Orange and Irvine Lake.  Although a very tough day towards the end I am ecstatic that I have somewhat of an understanding of what the Ironman bike portion will be like, at least the total miles.  I did, however, feel as if I rode right up to the "Road Closed - Dead End" sign of my fitness level.  Miles 97 - 110 were the toughest I've had. Not necessarily a tough course, but I was done and I wanted to be off the bike and shoving calories down my throat.  All in all a great day... if only because I ended up at the doorstep of lovely lady who did, after much pleading, let me in.

I used Sunday as a day to recover and mixed in a little house/apt hunting and then hit the pavement once again tonight for a 2 plus hour run.  The lungs felt great, the body is a little beat up, but that's to be expected.  I'm simply thrilled that I can run 20 minutes without laboring to breathe... sickness is dumb

on to another week... will write again soon.

Break Check

Alright... back to the blog.

It's been a very busy 3 or 4 weeks.  A great deal of work, work travel and training thrown in the mix....obviously I've been slacking in the blog dept.

First week of April had me running an 1:40 in downtown Milwaukee then home for a long ride and another long run.  The next week I was in Boston running side by side with the Charles River and trying to figure out how to get a ride in with no bike, my solution, a longer ride the following weekend.  The last weekend of April was one for breaking a few more barriers, got in my first 90 mile ride and 2+ hours on the run.

After last Sunday's baseball game and 2 hour run the table was set for this weekend, my first race, a half Ironman in Bradley, CA called Wildflower.  An awesome event where thousands of athletes, families and friends camp out at Lake San Antonio for the weekend and either participate in or cheer on 3 different events, the long course (half ironman distance), the mountain bike on Saturday and the olympic distance held on Sunday. 

I woke up Monday to sore legs, expected, and the beginning of what felt like a cold, unexpected. I was ok with it as Monday was an off day and I began the precautionary Zicam and Airborne doses. On Tuesday I found myself with confirmation of a cold, not much relief from the Zicam, but still got through the easy 50 min spin on the bike. Made final preparations on Wednesday for being out of the office again Thursday and Friday... and, um, did a portion of 4 weeks of laundry.  

Thursday morning I made the drive up to Wildflower and continued to battle this awesome cold. Made it to camp, set up the tent and got a few items in place for the arrival of some PowerBar athletes.  I was met shortly after my arrival by a fellow competitor from PowerBar's event Marketing agency, Steve.  Steve and I went out for a 35-40 min run and followed with a quick swim. During the run I found my self laboring to breathe, now I began to hate this cold. Although the swim went alright I struggled a bit to get warm again aftewards, but didn't think much of it. Friday, the day before the race, I went out and rode the first 5 miles of the course and headed home.  In the first 2 miles of the bike course there's a decent size climb to get out of the park, once again I found myself struggling to breathe when I know my fitness is at a much better level and my heart rate seemed high as well, but I don't have the fancy gadgets so I'm kind of guessing at that point.  After being heckled by overly concerned joggers that I need to put on my helmet (I forgot it at camp, was completely aware of it, and if I had it, it would be ON) I headed back down to put the bike away and get to work. 

Friday was a full day, first day of the expo, Chris Lieto (super triathlete, could be top 10 in Kona this year) signed at our booth for a bit and then we had a Team Elite function at the PowerBar campsite.  After all was said and done on the work side I began to think about race day, I put everything I would need for transition into my bag, put my kit in the tent along with warm clothes for the walk down to transition in the morning then headed to dinner. At dinner I found myself unable to focus on conversation around me and on the walk back to the campsites, which is uphill, it hit me a little harder, I can't breathe and this is getting worse.  I tried to stay up for a bit but couldn't hang so I went to bed in hopes that one more night of sleep would have me feeling much better and ready for race day.

Race day morning comes. I continue to delay my rise from the tent knowing the questions I must face, but finally with the rustling of race day preparations around me I get to my feet and out of the tent. This new day, however, did not bring with it health and as it grew close to time to head down to set up I had to make a decision, can I and/or should I race?  If the answer is yes then great, but there's no way I'm not finishing it if I start it, even if I'm helping shut down the final aid stations on my way in. The decision I come to feels like the right one, unfortunately it's not the easy one and not the one I wanted to even entertain... no.

Facing that decision has been tough. I feel like I was asked to go to battle and I said no.  There were those who understood and said it was the right decision which helped a bit, but there were also some who felt that I needed to hear why it was good that I wasn't out there like, It was hot out there, the run was brutal, atleast you don't have the sunburn everyone else has, etc.  See, that's just it, I want that sunburn, I want to work that hard, I want to be in there with the troops.

The drive home Saturday night was tough as I left the park on some of the same roads that over 3000 triathletes were just racing on. On those roads I began to think of the many conversations I've had or heard where an athlete was asked to describe their toughest race, toughest game or most challenging moment of their career.  Those questions where always answered with some awesome and at times incredible stories.  It was over 100 degrees, I forgot my nutrition on the run course, took a spill on the bike, etc.  Although I've not yet heard this response, after this weekend I truly feel that the worst race, most challenging game or toughest event is the one you can't start.

- Insert Blog Here -

Ok ok, I know, I've been slacking on the blog. Just want to put a place holder down, I will blog for sure later in the week when I return from this work trip.

I'm in Boston for the marathon... just dropped Josh Cox off at the start line buses. Josh is a ridiculous runner, in fact he holds the American 50k record... yes folks, that's beyond the distance of a marathon. Josh is pacing our Pro Pace sweepstakes winner for the first half of the race and will then hand him off to Peter Reid, a 3 time Ironman WORLD Champion. To give you an idea of what that means, Pete goes for a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike... follows with a 26.2 mile run in less than 8.5 hours.

Long day today, back home tomorrow night... again, I'll be sure to write and catch everyone up on training.

Best,

-d

Check engine light - ON

Mile 42.   A left turn.   A deep breath.  A last moment to take in the surroundings, and now my raising head meets nothing but up. A swift ride through crisp air has brought me to a point of troubled thought, of unknowing, of hope and hesitation for I am now at the foot of the beast.

It's Saturday a month and a week from my first race of the year.  I'm somewhere near Bradley, CA, I'm 14 miles from Lake San Antonio and 1 and a half miles from the top of Nasty Grade. This is the test, this is where I get a glimpse of where my training is.  67 miles last week, 42 so far this week.

I'm still in a seated position at this point, gearing down like a truck losing it's breaks but I'm going up and I'm losing my wheels.  I come out of my seat, although this wasn't the first time in this position this ride it's the first time I needed to be.  My inner thought is it's too early to be in this position, but at no point do I retreat to the seat to spin, I just keep plugging away, the only thing in cadence is my breath and the sweat hitting my top tube.

Half way up.  

The road's incline settles a bit but never nears flat, I take this moment to return to my seat and attempt to catch my breath.  I've been up this road twice before and I'm very familiar with the fact that the wors...erh, best is yet to come.  The road ahead begins to bend left and once again returns to it's full and upright position. Out of my seat again.

Now I begin to rely on my weight transfer to push the pedals down, no longer concerned with lifting them up.  Sweat is beading, pooling, then rushing from my forehead.  If I lift a hand to brush it away I'll lose any momentum I've stumbled upon, nonetheless control of the bike.  I hear conversation behind me, two riders talking about the hill, the day and pressing on. It annoys the hell out of me. One voice approaches quicker than the other, my gaze hasn't left the pavement for 100 ft and continues this way until this voice is directly beside me, "Your doing great! Just a little bit more." In response I'm thinking more along the lines of four letter words and if I could get my foot out of this damn clip I'd kick you ....for some reason these thoughts left my mouth a bit differently, "Thanks, have a great ride". She quickly passed and I moved back to thoughts of "it's almost over," trying to hold my bottle of water in position of reward, telling myself that as soon as I reach the top I'm going to stop and recover for a second and get some fluids in.

At this point I see the crest of the hill and the green traffic sign just beyond.  The top is within shouting for help distance.  My stomach seems to be taking a great deal of pride in reminding me that I did not put enough in it, my legs are quickly losing the joy they had merely a mile earlier.  At this point I'm angry and just want to be done with this, I glance up through dripping sweat and frustration taking a peak at that glorious point where road meets sky, my head lowers once again and I force my legs through the motion.  Peddling slowly becomes easier, my heart rate returns to a state other than trying to escape through my ears. If I could grin in frustration I was doing it, but I was happy, I was done with this damn hill.... my soul kicked, beaten, bruised, but not crushed.  I was greeted by a right turn and another hill but nothing compared to what was behind me and I don't mind at all and I know what's next. DOWN!

I went from 42 miles of, "this is beautiful, as soon as I get up nasty grade I'm going to push it a bit." About 12 miles to finish line and a great point to see where I'm at and close a great training ride with charge to the line.  those thoughts were sheepishly put to the side and now I just wanted to get there.

I did get there and realized that I am not where I thought I was.  It was a great ride, a tough climb, but a reality check to say the least.  I'm a bit frustrated, but more happy that I have a feeling of where I am and where I need to be.  

Sunday closed two weeks of great training with some firsts to boot. This week is easy, a chance to regroup a bit, learn and move on.

Aside from this particular increase in elevation the weekend was awesome.  Campfires, hikes, great company, a dog who smells like a mix of lake and burning wood and road trip that, as The Tallest Man on Earth plays in the background, I feel like I'm still on. (thanks for passing that along Whit)

-d

Howling Beast

Sitting, staring, drifting...... this describes my attempt to begin this next posting.  I am quickly pulled from this far off gaze by the sound of two awesomely horrible hounds that seem to announce every waking moment. As always the two howling hounds are met swiftly by the tenacious sleep destroying mutt next door. As she viciously attacks the steel curtain that separates her from immediately turning into Miss Submissive my attention returns, I take a deep breath and look back on a great week.

This week I found myself venturing outside of where I've been before, grabbing a peak at personal fresh tracks.  Saturday was my first bike beyond the 56 mile mark and Sunday I happily returned to runs past an hour and 20 minutes.  Surprisingly I felt great on the ride, that is until about mile 55 where roads that moments earlier were flat and fast became tough, slow, climbs. Miles 55 to 67 were tough but got through them nonetheless.   What I don't recommend, however, is heading to the park a couple hours after your first ever 60+ mile ride for the basketball courts.  Saturday night I found myself much lesser of a man and struggling to move as it seemed some devilishly strong spirit had a strangle hold on my lower back.

Speaking of being lesser of a man, this was an fantastic moment on my bike Saturday.  I have just made it up my last big climb of the day (not that big of a climb, but still some tougher peddling), I let myself coast a bit down El Toro as it turns into Chapman road.  I'm approaching the light where the 241 exits to Chapman just beyond Irvine Lake. A sense of accomplishment is slowly creeping in as at the light I'm going to turn around and head home.  The light is red, which I'm somewhat happy with because I'm going to take a moment and grab a drink before heading back toward the finish line.  I unclip from my left peddle and begin to slow.  I'm just about at the light and go to unclip the right shoe so I can stand for a second and catch my breath, take a drink and turn it around.  This sounds easy enough right, nope... I can't get out of my right peddle and now I HAVE to stop because I'm at the intersection.  One more last ditch effort to remove my stubborn foot from the peddle, nope not happening... and now, with my weight on the wrong side of the bike, I begin a slow.........awkward...... unavoidable....fall to the earth.  Bike hits the pavement, half on the road, half into the rocky ditch just past the curb, my foot still attached to right peddle.

Lucky for me there were vehicles at the intersection.  One waiting to exit the freeway on to Chapman, others approaching from the same direction I had just come from, all most definitely loving what they just witnessed.  See, my fall was one of those falls that you know I'm not hurt, I'm just dirty and embarrassed.  I slowly pick my self up, take a bow and head back home with a sheepish grin that won't remove itself from my face.

After my ride and after I learned He really doesn't have game, I reveled in the the therapeutic giggles and playfulness of Miss Mya Velazquez and the back pain slowly slipped to a mild inconvenience....the advil, ice pack and cinasticks may have helped as well.

Sunday the howling beasts greeted me early in the morning and I awoke for the day to sore but functioning legs and lingering stiffness in my back.  I managed to scoot through an hour and 35 minute run in and around raindrops, a good morning gust of wind or two and a bit of the Southern California sun peaking in and out of the clouds that earlier were in a much worse frame of mind. The run felt great as if a nice cool down from a long grueling Saturday ride.

The rest of the day had me at Target to pick up paper towels and a few other necessities for the house. Apparently it's impossible to pick up just what you came for at this establishment they refer to as Target (it's a soft "g"). I exited Target with the following necessities:

• Air Mattress
  
• Comforter for my spring break road tripping sister
  
• Starburst Jelly beans
  
• Pump for the air mattress
  
• Turbo Tax
  
• ummm......Tent? (come on, they're right next to the air mattresses, and I AM camping soon)
• Paper towels

Learning: Stay on your bike and away from Target

More to come.... 

**note: heeding advice from someone who tends to constantly leave me with a smile on my face, I ask, I beg, I solicit your every thought. Your comments and encouragement are most welcome ;)

 

learnings..

As I sit here, drunk on pool water and looking back on a good week of training and my first 50 mile bike of the year I am constantly reminded of the opportunity in front of me.  It's ever so apparent that, if I can manage to heed the words of a very wise woman and stay quiet just long enough, I might just find that that true message, that insight into who I am.

It's something that I struggle with as my brain is always on....and, not necessarily ON what it's supposed to be on.  I'm constantly wondering is this right? Is that right? Where am I supposed to be, what am I supposed to be doing? I feel like I'm supposed to be great but I have no idea what I'm going to be great at. I want to love something, I want someone to love me. Who could love me? Well, other than the Mother, Father, Sister who...um, HAVE to love me.  Will I find what I'm looking for? Will I know it when I do? Have I found it?

See, that's exactly what I mean.  

50 miles on a bike, 8 miles on the road with one foot in front of the other, the attempts to "slip" through the water quickly past the water aerobic girls has a funny way of shutting things off. And there, in the "off" position do you finally find some insight.  You can go only so long with the attempts at figuring out proper peddling technique or tackling that work issue before silence, rhythmic and defining silence. The hard part is getting there.

So, as I look down the barrel of the next week of training, my first swim in the books and my first 65 mile bike coming into view I take pause and a breath and look forward.

until next time...

Bloggerific

What is bloggerific you ask?  Well, I'm certain it is not me.

As I sat 3 rows back from a man shoving himself into a giant condom so he could  have a smoke I realized I was seriously slacking in my blogging efforts. If I have time to roam the halls of the magic castle, I have time to blog.

This past week was a bit strange as the training unexpectedly lightened.  When I was training it was at the same level, but there were less days and less 2 a day's or bricks.  This kind of threw me off a bit and I lagged in other parts of my life.  For example I did FOUR loads of laundry on Friday.....FOUR.  Sweet, now that I write this it kind of indicates that I was letting that slip for a while.

Although there were fewer workouts I had a long..ish bike on Friday, followed by a 50 minute run. The run seemed somewhat easy but in the middle of the bike it hit me how much improvement I have to make as well as the mental adventure I'm headed towards as I get to longer training days and especially, race day. Perhaps one of the biggest challenges for me is to figure out how to not get bored on the bike.  It's tough to play "I Spy" by yourself....and, it's a little freaky when you get frustrated, snap and tell yourself "NO, WE are NOT there yet!"

With that said, I'm re-focused and will keep up the communication.  At the very least I'll provide my training log.  

P.S. The gentleman in the upper right of this posting spoke not a word during his on stage expression of "excuse me...what?", just cries of "eerrhhhaaaah" and "Whooooouup!". The weird part wasn't necessarily the witnessing of his act, it was sitting at the bar having coffee after the show only to have his Whoooupness and his lovely assistant Fermeldihyde post up next to us as I attempt to gather my sanity.

Dirty Details - Training Log week of Feb. 23

Sunday, Feb. 22 - 1.5 hr bike on the trainer after not being very good at life on Sunday and not getting out of bed until very, very late.

Monday, Feb. 23 - High rep chest and shoulder day followed by and 2000m swim. Perhaps I'll re-think that combination and possibly separate the stress on the shoulders

Tuesday, Feb. 24 - Supposed to be an off day, but Sunday was haunting me and I got in a back/bi day and a 30 min run

Wednesday, Feb.25 - First tough day of the week, 1hr 15 min spin and 45 min run

Good week to work of Mya's cupcakes.....

Swim, bike, cupcakes

Regressing the sport, pretty sure that will be my slogan.  I mean, I'm not apathetic about the whole thing, I'm  loving this and I'm working hard at it, but come on it's not like stars will align and I'll turn in a sub 8hr Ironman and walk away providing xtri.com with quotes that will inspire this years champion in Kona. Maybe I'll make 15.5 hour finishers cool? Ok, that's pushing it....16?

My path to Ironman mediocracy has brought me to the last time I'll bike or run under 45 minutes until taper time. Exciting, yes I know, but still, this means the next time I find myself sucking at life and not getting out of bed until ....well, what's in a number really, the time I got up isn't really important.  Anyway I mean the next time I rationalize my way into getting on the trainer because of the lack of daylight, instead of unleashing the super cools wheels on Angeles Crest I'll be doing it at a minimum of 2.5/3 hours, which may cause me to fade in and out of consciousness.  

This was a bit of a tough week, not necessarily the workouts, more on the side of staying focused on getting them in and I'm stoked it's over with and today I begin a new week.  I must say, however, that the week ended well and I got to enjoy a cupcake.....or 3 with little Miss Mya Audrey on her very 1st birthday.  

Happy Bday Mya!

Dirty details - Training Log

I will be posting my training at http://www.jimmypena.net/forum/viewforum.php?f=5 , a website created in part by my boy Eric and plan to import the dirty details here. This will hopefully provide a view of the actual training and accompany the super cool blog.


Team PrayFit Groupie - Paterson Training log for Ironman CA
by paterson6 » Fri Feb 13, 2009 3:57 pm
I have decided to take on a new challenge this year, that challenge will hopefully come to fruition on August 30, 2009 at Ironman Canada. I've been an athlete since I could walk, but endurance is brand new to me. I finished two half Ironman's last year and after further review they apparently don't add up to qualify as a full, therefore I will tackle my first full IM this year.I have completed a breif period (month) of base training and now I begin my 29 week training program

Monday - 1hr Spin class, oddly enough you don't just sit there and spin on the lightest gear. Great workout, and no Eric, I did not wear thuper thweet bike shorts (not a fan)

Tuesday - 30 min easy run on the treadmill followed by a high rep chest workout

Wednesday - Swimmin with Quincy, 50 min swim in the lane next to a Quincy Jones look alike wearing designer shades indoors in a pool telling inappropriate (but awesome) stories

Thursday - ummmm, off?

Friday - First Brick workout, 45 minutes high intensity on the bike followed by a 20 minute easy run. (note: a brick is a combined workout Bike/Run, Swim/Bike, Swim/Run, Run/KFC, etc.)Saturday - Will be my first ride of any length (2 hours), on the new wheels Any tips, words of encouragement, applicable verses are welcomed and appreciated. This will be a difficult, but great adventure

Re: Team PrayFit Groupie - Paterson Training log for Ironman CA
by paterson6 » Wed Feb 18, 2009 10:51 am
I am going to try and update this daily, feel free to virtually slap me if I slack a bit.

Saturday Feb 14th - Easy bike ride, between 1 1/2 hours and 2 hrs, didn't keep track as I was a bit discouraged at the way I felt coming out of a hard spin and run on Friday, well that and the late Friday night. I did however follow the bike with a great 3 1/2 hour hike into the Angeles Forest on Saturday.

Sunday Feb 15th - Quick and easy 40 minute swim followed immediately by lazy.

Monday - Off, unless playing in the rain and running into the movie theater counts?

Tuesday Feb. 16th - Solid hi rep chest and shoulder day followed by a moderate 45 minute run (good day), my dumb hamstring continues to feel a bit weak and tightens up a little.

Wednestday Feb. 18th - Today will be another 40 minute swim (but I plan to increase that to 2000 meters, which will be more like an hour for me) and a 30 minute run.

Second half of the week results and schedule:

Thursday Feb. 19 - 50 minute Spin and El Pollo Loco

Friday Feb. 20 - Back, Arms and 50 min run

Saturday Feb. 21 - 2hr ride then Mya's 1st Bday

Sunday Feb. 22 - 2000m swim

Next week it's time for everything to increase a bit, most likely nothing under an hour. Happy Friday all, today let's do something great.

Quncy Jones ain't no swimmer

So, I'm blogging not only for your pure enjoyment but to keep record of my adventures in my quest to complete an Ironman. In this, the very first week of the Ironman training program, I find myself swimming laps at the local 24 hr fitness coming out of the water only to breathe and catch snippets of outrageous stories of hookers, drugs, Thriller and "OJ ain't no killer....he was set up by some shady mob Cats out of Jersey...framed his ass for that $#!&, knew he and Nicole were fightin" from none other than Mr. Quincy Jones...This journey to 140.6 miles in one go at it is bound to be nothing short of one of the greatest adventures I'll have in this life if I'm sharing over chlorinated water with Quincy Friggin Jones.

Alright, so I'm not absolutely sure it was Quincy, but I'm not stretching the truth on the stories I was privy to while getting in my swim this evening, and the dude looked just like the man (maybe a tad younger)...I mean seriously who the hell wears designer sun (SUN) glasses in an indoor pool at 7 p.m. on a Wednesday, moves no more than a foot while in the water and sits there for an hour telling ridiculous stories about, " Girl said not to touch my ass and I'm not to touch any of you, and I gots to listen, girl treats me too good...so there I was, 5 naked women in my bed with me and I can't touch none of 'em......they're ain't nobody livin as hard as we did back in the day, these days they ain't nobody gangsta, ain't nobody liven MY life today!"

Moving on.....Only a half a week of the Ironman training program down, but I'm excited. I'm excited that I'm getting closer to doing things I've never done before, I'm excited about taking my new bike out for it's first ride of any significant length this weekend, I'm excited that I used that many "I's" in one sentence. Things are good and any thoughts, encouragement, tips are welcome.

until next time...

And so it begins....

So, I've been known to make interesting decisions while out for breakfast by myself.  I'm using one of those decisions to create and contribute to this blog, the other I hope on August 30th, will take me 112 miles as fast as it can....or better yet, and a bit more realistic, as fast as I can.

Ladies and gentlemen, the bike has been secured.  The choice, a 2008 Giant TCR comp series Medium frame. Now, for the freelance work that will pay for it. I think I'll slap a lit "For Hire" sign on my back and form the Pasadena Pedicab Crew or ,perhaps, I'll walk old ladies across the street and tell them, "the assistance through this perilous endeavor was free but please consider a small donation to the starving triathletes fund."

On February 8th, the pieces of the puzzle begin to be flipped, arranged and put into place.  This will mark 29 weeks out from Canada and the beginning of my core Ironman training.  Although I can't seem to shake this weak, or tightening hamstring deal, I feel it's improving somewhat and I'm ready to get dirty.  What doesn't help is when checking voicemail earlier I ran into a message from Frank, the hard selling rec league baseball manager calling about Winter/Spring practice (yep we have winter/spring training for adult league baseball...what?).  This is the root of my hamstring issue as I went from zero to sprinting without stretching a few times....apparently I can't do that anymore. I have yet to call Frank back as I'm not sure adult league baseball can be part of this puzzle, and that's a hard thing to tell the guy who's gonna bring up the championship game I missed due to work last year and where we came up short in that contest.  This final game of the season was no doubt concluded with a profanity slurred speech about this team having no business losing to Tito Jackson and the misfits, and this wouldn't have happened if the whole team was here and people didn't blow off the most important game of the year. Yes, Frank and his trusty side kick Frisky (the profanity slurred member of this duo) take this stuff that seriously.  And as Manny Ramirez, sorry I mean Scott "Should Have an Accident soon" Boras fights for $25 million a year for 4 years, Frank will attempt to make his lucrative offer sound as if Manny's getting ripped off. Of course, in this case, the $25 Million will be replaced by the lack of guilt I'll feel by saying yes. Wow, tangent, stream of consciousness...sorry, moving on.

With a bit more focus and purpose I soon begin this new exciting and scary adventure...and you have to read all about it. (choice of words reviewed and confirmed)

32 weeks out... I'm supposed to be nervous now right?

So, seriously, who sends out the evite for the Golden Globes? I can see clearly now where this training will get into the way of my social life, luckily my invite hit the spam folder and I had a solid excuse when the Pitt's drunk dialed me from after party #2... the stumbled through lines of, "dude, this just isn't the same without you" accompanied by pleas for advice as to how to lose a semi too friendly and inebriated stalker who still has a death grip on his Best Actor award was simply deflected by "man, I just found the invite in my junk mail and I've been in the pool all day. Next year guys, next year for sure."

Week two of  training is now in the books with the real training program set to begin after another 2. This past week was a very good one and has left me anticipating next week where minutes, weight, yards, meters are all increased a bit and after 2 weeks I hope to go into the 29 week program on decent ground. Of course, I'll have to continue to work on my weaknesses which is cycling (nope, haven't purchased the bike yet), swimming.......and, well, running.

Outside of the training, weird LA was in full effect. At multiple times throughout the week I had moments of "what month is this?" "What season are we in?"...."Am I late for something?...I know I missed something" as it's been high 80's if not low 90's all week, confusing me to no end. I even opted for the pool yesterday because, since I slept in a bit, it was already 88 degrees and rising and I wasn't up for dragging the pup (a Siberian Huskey, who has learned how to verbalize his cursing of Southern California weather) on a long run.  I mean, I'm thrilled I'm not in Northern Wisconsin where below zero is normal for months on end, but come on it's Winter, 90 degrees on January 16th is dumb.  There are only 2 seasons here, Fire and mudslides, and the mudslides, at the most, only take 2 months out the year.

Well, until next time....Go Steelers!

Resolution

I figured I'd start down the road toward my '09 goals as I sit here on my parent's couch in constant state of Holiday food coma, since publishing this entry is a small beginning to some of those previously mentioned goals.

This will be the home of captured thoughts as I venture toward my first full Ironman. On Sunday, August 30th, 2009 I hope to be adjusting my goggles, calming nerves, saying a little prayer and towing the cold wet line with 2500 of my closest friends at the start of the Subaru Ironman Canada.

Much of this blog will be dedicated to this specific goal, at least until September, but it won't be entirely Ironman, I'll throw out the disclaimer now as I'm sure through out the year there will be a fair share of "random" amongst my training and other adventures leading up to this somewhat insane endeavor I've put myself into.

I suppose now I should find a bike......