My $.02: Race Week

The $.02 Series:

Race Week (Below)

Race Week Addendum

Race Morning, The Swim, & T1

The Bike & T2

The Run, The Finish, The Aftermath

Note: This was written in 2007 - things change year to year, so your specific experience, schedule, etc. may vary. For instance - the new on-course sports drink from Powerbar, rather than Gatorade. That is all, carry on.

I thought I'd spread out, over the next few posts, a few general thoughts and ideas I have on Ironman Wisconsin. Tips and tidbits. Things I wish I'd known, or practiced, or just information that might be helpful. I'm no expert in anything, and the web is full of way more valuable information than anything I can come up with, but having done IMWI for the first time last year, a few things do stick out. So, I'll share them, geared mostly, I suppose to you first-timers out there. I encourage comments by anybody to add to the discussion. And of course, if you have any questions, I'll do my best.

So to start, I thought I'd talk a little bit about Ironman week. I'm not going to spend much (if any) time on training techniques, or things you should probably already have down: Taper taper taper, rest, gear, nutrition, etc. etc. These are more the details specific to IM week, and what I learned. Later I'll cover the swim, then later the bike, etc.

Depending on your travel plans, you'll register in at Ironman Village on Thursday or Friday. Before those days, keep an eye on the 5-day forecast. A suspicious eye. If there is an inkling of a chance of rain, you want to pack back-up clothes for a day of constant drizzle. If they say "breezy", you want to be prepared for "wind tunnel". Don't lose your mind - there's nothing you can do about the weather, and you have enough to think about than to start obsessing about it. But do plan ahead. Last year, for all its infamy now, was not forecast for the day that was. When I went to bed the night before, in fact, the forecast said no rain and winds below 10mph and a high near 60. And we all know how that went. You want to pack for whatever is possible. This might mean you pack way more than you need. Who cares? You can figure out race-day attire the night before, but if you at least have tights, or armwarmers, or a sweat-band in case it's 100 degrees, or whatever, then at least you'll have what you need.

Also the days before registration, review your race day plan so that it's second nature to you...and then relax about it and be willing to improvise. Last year my long rides almost always saw me hovering around 16.5mph over the course of 100+ miles. So, that's what I planned for. The day came - and it's constant rain. That meant no full-speed descents, it meant riding the brakes, and generally a slower day. Fine. Whatever. If you live by your plan, you can die by your plan. I say keep it as a firm guideline, but if you get a flat tire, don't suddenly try to get back 10 minutes after you're back on the road.

Anyway, so now you're packed up and ready to roll. Great! When are you getting here? If you can do Thursday AM registration, you'll be ahead of the game. Registration is a 2-part affair, where first you get one piece of your packet, then you go around and get the rest of your essential gear. It involves winding lines down stairways and into small rooms, walking seemingly every floor of the the Monona Terrace, and navigating your way through the bowels of the place. By Friday afternoon, everybody has arrived and those lines, while moving along, get really long. The longer you're in line, the more you're on your feet. So, do what you can. If Friday afternoon is your plan, wear comfortable shoes and maybe sip a water bottle while you're in line.

Regardless of when you arrive, bring quarters. The Terrace has a relatively small parking ramp, so you'll likely be parking somewhere at a meter downtown and walking in.

One of the coolest experiences all week is when you finally sit down with a race volunteer and they put your Ironman wrist-band on you. Everything is suddenly very real, and you are among The Chosen. Wear that band with pride. Try and slow time down if you can, and remember the sensation of being there. It's a memory I promise you'll take with you.

You'll find throughout the weekend, and especially as you're in line, that everybody is talking about their race-day strategies. They'll be talking about the drink they have on-board, or why they hate Gatorade (the on-course drink), or the splits they're aiming for, or what they're wearing and why, and it goes on and on and on. You'll see rocketships everywhere. $600 wetsuits. Go into Ironman week with resolve that your training works for you, your gear works for you, and you'll race accordingly. It's impossible not to overhear these guys and think, "what? what's a compact crankset? should I have put one on my bike? Oh crap!" - just relax. It can be intimidating to be surrounded by these elite athletes, and suddenly you're second-guessing yourself. Remember - you ARE one of those elite athletes. Let them stick to their plans - whatever they are - and you stick to yours. Don't worry about what anybody else is saying or doing or thinking. Stay with your gameplan, the one you devised over months and months of training, the one that got you there.

As you finally leave registration, you'll conveniently come out right next to the Ironman store! If you're like me, you'll buy one of everything. Because I'm obnoxious like that. It's fun to walk around if nothing else, and if you need some essentials - Bodyglide, tubes, goggles, whatever - they'll be there, as well as oodles of IM apparel. If it matters to you, keep in mind that by Monday morning a lot of it will be gone, so if you see something you really love, I say don't hesitate. Also, for what its worth, my personal philsophy was that nothing with the M-Dot was allowed on my person until race week. I hadn't earned it. I even hated that my aerobars had the Ironman logo on them (as you know, I'm obsessive). Anyway, race week, it was fun to get into the spirit of it all with an M-Dot hat or t-shirt or whatever. And, it was satisfying and motivating to me to wait. Whatever that means for you. For some it's just a brand logo, like the Nike swoosh. For me, it was and is a symbol. I waited and wore it with pride.

Ironman Village, outside the terrace, has vendors galore, and lots of stimuli to cater to your inner ADHD. The usual expo faire is there, but my rule is never to indulge in some yogurt drink or energy bar I've never tried before, just because it's there and free at asome table. You do what you like. There are opportunities there for you or your family to write on placards that will be posted on the run course, and to jot a note to athletes that will flash on a huge digital board on the run. I can tell you as an athlete that these messages meant the world to me, 120 some miles into the race. I can also tell you that I wrote a note for myself for the digital board, which is maybe really lame, I don't know, but who cares. "Esse Quam Videri", which means "To Be, and Not Just To Appear To Be". It was and is my Ironman mantra. It gave me a boost of kickass when I saw it late in the game - that I wasn't going to just content myself with doing "enough" - I was going to do my very best.

Anyway, enjoy the village, but take care - you don't want to waste energy walking around for hours and hours. For me, I decided my schedule and alotted time, and that was what I stuck to. Your priorties race week should be to rest, and to hydrate. Everything else should fall into place around those things.

You'll read about the Gatorade swim in the days preceding the race, and how there are reps there with goodies and to watch your stuff while you swim. I went on Friday afternoon for a quick swim, and nary a Gatorade person was to be found. I don't know what that means, but if having your stuff watched and getting free stuff is high on your radar, maybe plan for earlier-is-better in the AM on Thursday or Friday for that. I had friends with me, so it was no big deal. I do suggest you go swimming if you can, if for nothing else than to get a little familiar with how the ramp looks and works, and where the swim start/finish is in relationship to the Terrace, where you'll be running up to head into T1.

Speaking of friends with you, if you can hit the village with one of your race-day supporters, I think it'll be that much more fun. The scope and importance of the thing will become really important to them, and it'll be an experience I think you'll be glad you shared.

If you can, get some solid sleep the nights before Saturday. I didn't sleep a wink Saturday night, and it's possible you won't sleep well either, with race-day nerves and excitement. If you can get as much rest the nights before, you'll be better for it.

The night before the race there's a "mandatory" meeting, right after the huge spaghetti dinner. A few thoughts on that. First...whatever your before-race-dinner normally is, stick to it. Don't bust into the spaghetti just because that's what IM has. Also...it takes 12-18 hours for digestion and passing. Like I said, stick to your plan, but keep in mind that in the minds of many athlete-nutritionists (and myself), the time to "carbo-load" is 2 nights before the race, not the night before. The night before should be a carbohydrate dense, but calorie-sensible meal. Anyway, I don't want to tread on your plans with that, but keep it in mind, and maybe google best strategies for carbo-loading if you have more thoughts to explore. (I did, by the way, have spaghetti the night before the race, but a sensible portion. I did my major loading Friday night). As far as the meeting, last year Pharmie and I went, and I left it a little early - only because the doctor got up there and, as is his job, started going through every possible medical scenario you might face and what it might mean for you. After awhile, it was common sense stuff...and I didn't want to hear it. For me, I didn't need to introduce scary new unknowns into my head the night before the race. The "mandatory" meeting doesn't really cover anything crucial, and lots of athletes don't attend it. I did, but I intended to thoroughly immese myself in all the weekend had to offer (I did not, though, attend the dinner beforehand). Just keep that in mind if you plan to go the meeting.

Most of all, soak it all in. Just enjoy the being of it. Have fun looking around, embrace your athlete-status, let them make you feel special, which is what the IM staff sets out to do. I really calibrated my attitide in the days before the race - all that excitement and nervousness, I found, boiled down to fun, and pride, and enjoyment. I took that with me into the water Sunday morning.

Next time: The swim!

State of Things

• So, I've had a really great couple weeks of training. I feel back on point. Weight is coming off, endurance is building, and strength is developing. I'm yet to really "test" my knee, and am sticking to mostly HR zone 2 running of an hour or less, but this week I think I'll do a little more to see what I'm capable of. To say it feels good to be back is an understatement. Strange, though, that while the season draws closer to a close for everybody around me, I'm just getting fired up. I think I'll have a lot of pent-up race day energy all off-season. Good. Make me that much better next season.

• Todd and I have, I think, all but decided on Racine as our 70.3 next season. They haven't published the precise race dates yet, but one thoughtful bit is that Lifetime might be just the week before. That's a great race that's a priority for me, but it just might not work out. S'okay. Eye on the prize, as they say. I'll let you know as soon as I know.

• Refresh coming soon to the blog's appearance. No longer in transition. Now, on a mission. Becoming Ironman 2009. Bring it.

• I watched the Becoming Ironman documentary (on your right, there, for the YouTube links, if you're interested) yesterday and cried like a girl. My Team kicked ass. Best Day Ever.

• I'm extremely excited to be volunteering at Ironman this year! I'll be on State Street & Henry as a run marshall from 3:45-8:00pm, and then at the finish line doing medals or whatever from 9pm to midnight. I'm hoping I strategically placed myself in these locations so that I can, with great obnoxiousness, be the freakshow cheerleader for Pharmie, Steve, erin, Wil, and Stu. Am I forgetting anybody? I can't keep track of everybody's race schedules. Lemme know. I'm so excited for you guys. I can't wait.

• Speaking of everybody, I was thinking - does anybody in the Madison area want to get together for a beer or something in the next weekend or so? Not this weekend - I'm back in Minneapolis - but maybe the next? I'm thinking Teach, erin, Thomps - who else? Anybody around - if I didn't say your name it just means I don't know where you're geographically located, so it's just a big open invitation. Lemme know. Maybe I'll send some emails around or go comment hopping to get your ideas. Drop a comment, though, if you have an opinion. It might be fun to get to know each other a little better than from behind the screen. Plus, I'm new in town, that sort of thing. Let me know what you think.

• I got a new LG tri-bag, and get this: it comes with a little detachable, fold-up bench for transition. Ha! Dope.

• Coolest thing that happened this weekend outside of my open water swim (where I practiced sighting so as to not be so constantly screwing up my times with the drunken wending that is my Modus Operandi in the water) and my 30 miles on the bike (flawless! whahoo!) - watching my Grandpa - The Legend - play bowling on the Wii. Kick. Ass.

• Speaking of miles on the bike, my last 3 rides, consisting of 17-something, 23-something, and 30-something, have all resulted in an average mph of 17.8. That's consistency, baby.

All from me for now. Lemme know about social hour, those interested - I think it'd be a good time. Hell, maybe we could even make something regular of it!

Physically Therapeutic

In the first days of September, 1996, my Dad and I were playing our 35th hole of golf with his regular buddies - I was the "outsider" (though always made to feel like a lifelong member) on a group of guys that had been golfing usually twice a week for years and years, and were a constant riot. My Dad - he was one hilarious dude. Sometime I'll tell you more stories. Also, he could smash a golf ball. After a weekend of water skiing and golf, I was spending these last few holes trying to out-drive him. Sometimes I did, barely - usually I didn't. On this tee box, 2nd to last of the day, a water hazard awaits just beyond the box. I'd played this course since I was old enough to golf - 8 or 9, I suppose. That water hazard was home to many a ball with my name on it.

I reared back - I've always had excellent form on my swing, even if I have a horrible slice - and swung with everything I had. I smashed the ball - best drive of the day. But - I felt a tiny slip in my lower left back. Nothing painful, just out of the ordinary, and different. We packed into the carts to head after our respective hits, and I decided I'd better back off a little on the next drive.

We were playing a skins game - where the lowest score on each hole is the winner of that hole (I think for $.25/hole), and as we approached the final green of the day, on the 36th hole, my ball was about 5 feet from the pin, and I'd be putting for par, and the skin. We joked about who'd be buying beer at the end of the round as the other guys putt in. I was the 2nd to last guy to putt, and I carefully leaned over my ball to concentrate on making the putt. Very suddenly, and totally to my surprise, my legs went right out from under me. It was as though somebody had struck the back of my knees and my legs just crumpled, and I fell in an awkward heap to the ground. There was no pain - just total surprise that suddenly I was lying on the ground when a moment ago I was looking down at a golf ball. The green lay right in front of the clubhouse, and it was a strange place for somebody to be suddenly lying there. A few guys joked from the clubhouse to "cut 'im off! He's had enough!" Everybody started laughing - because it was funny - and I started laughing too. And that is when my back exploded into a searing sympony of agony. Immediately my laugh halted in mid-breath and I shrieked in pain. And suddenly it wasn't funny to any of us, and everybody looked around in total confusion. Whatever this was, it wasn't making sense.

My back was spasming so violently that I could barely talk. This was a tremendous hurt, the kind of pain that redefines your scale of how bad something really is. Everything I did, the slightest movement, aggravated the muscles on my lower left side to clench into angry fists, and I'd feel the pain all the way back in my teeth. I was 22 years old, and my Dad had to carry me to the car. I had to "lay" - which was more propped up at an awkward half-lay, half-sit position - in the back seat just to function. We raced home, and Dad carried me into the house and I lay down on the floor while he called a doctor. It was an effort to find any kind of temporary relief, nevermind comfort. I spent the next two days in generally that same position, and my parents had to feed me, assist me in every way, even help me into the bathroom and back - to walk without total pain, I had to lean way back, have somebody supporting me, and only walk on my tip-toes. It was maddening.

I was due to fly back to school in Boston 3 or 4 days later, and underwent intense therapy for the next few days just to try and get to a place where that was at all possible. Three times daily I'd visit a chiropractor, as well as my regular doctor and a massage therapist. My muscles were literally stiff as bone. Whatever injury I'd suffered back there, all of my muscles were working overtime to protect themselves from it. The whole ordeal was excruciating.

Side-note... that was the last time I ever golfed with my Dad. He died three and a half months later. I've never known quite how to feel about that. That being the last time golfing with him, I mean.

Anyway, it would seem, some 11 years later, that this trauma has continued to haunt my body, and in the opinion of the physical therapist I began work with yesterday, may be the cause of not just my knee issue this season, but a lot of weird, left-sided weakness and instability that I didn't even know I had. She began with a complete history, and I limited that to mostly the last three years of training. She had a look at me in different positions of standing, then asked me if I'd had any kind of injury to the left side of my back - so...something about me is obvious in that way to the trained eye. At first it didn't occur to me to share something that happened so long ago, but then I indicated that, yes, I'd had a really horrible back-spasm issue there once. She was immediately intrigued, so I told her the whole story, and how if I stop working out now for even a few weeks I have aggravation on that side - soreness, stiffness. That if I keep working out I don't have any back problems, but otherwise I sometimes have to deal with it a bit. Throughout the course of the appointment she kept doing the math, and seems pretty confident that this one thing in my life is the source of a lot of real and potential problems. That's weird for me - like being told scar tissue from a cut when you were a kid is affecting how you live as an adult. Strange how the body doesn't forget.

She was a great therapist and a really cool woman. About my age, I think, fun and light-hearted. I didn't feel like I was among a sterile medical professional, but just a cool person who knew more about stuff than I did. I liked that. She had me do a few tests, then, and I was - like I was at my original appointment when they ran a few physical tests - totally shocked at the apparent differences that I hadn't been aware of in my symmetry. When I stand on my left leg, for instance, my right hip drops down. Plain as day. Not so standing on my right leg - the right side of my back is strong enough to support the muscles required to keep my opposite hip aligned. Fascinating. I laid down on my stomach, and she pressed on the muscles in my lower back, first on the right side, then the left, just to loosen up a bit. It was not a massage, she just pressed down. We were chatting through this when she got to my left side, and in mid sentence she stopped and said, in surprise, "ooh..." - I'd felt it too. Like an angry ghost, my muscles on that side immediately spasmed slightly around her fist. This happened through half-way up my back - she'd press, we'd both feel a tightening. I pictured the muscles back there as some angry old creatures protecting some ancient precious. Ever after all this time, whatever happened back there, they were conditioned to respond. It felt alien.

We did a test where I reached back with my right hand, elbow up, and grabbed the back of my neck. G'head, try this. Then you reach up with your left hand, elbow down, and reach to kind of scratch your back between the shoulder blades. Then, try and reach both hands to touch each other. On the one side - no problem, I could link fingers, even. On the other - my hands were almost a foot away from each other. I was totally blown away - it was like watching somebody else's body on the one side. Nothing worked the same. How I'd managed this long without either knowing this huge lack of symmetry existed, or getting injured much earlier, is a mystery.

But then, she had me do some simple stretches. And that was equally as surreal. We'd do an exercise, find a major problem area, and then do some kind of stretch. Sometimes the stretch didn't obviously correlate to the problem. After stretching, we'd do the exercise again, and suddenly things worked. By the end of the appointment, in fact, I could do that finger-grab-behind-your-back exercise just as well with the opposite side - an entire foot of inflexibility suddenly accounted for. Insane!!!! In fact, when I left, my whole body just felt loose and comfortable in a way I don't think I've ever experienced before. It was like walking in somebody else's much more flexible body. Even the weird shoulder issues I've had since before Ironman, and which I've been choosing to not address until after this knee thing is situated - suddenly felt so much better.

All from stretching.

Who knew? And can you imagine the possibilities? Swim, bike, and run could be a whole different game in a body that was more able to play the right way.

So, we've got 3 more appointments planned through mid-August, and I have homework to do the stretching twice a day at home. Next time we'll work in more exercises. At the end of this, I should have a lot more flexibility, stability, and equilibrium that I didn't even know I was missing. How exciting.

Meanwhile, a solid weekend planned - hopefully an open water swim, and my longest time on the bike so far (30 miles, which is a far cry from a century, I know, but hey, Rome wasn't built in a day, as they say. A month ago I was hardly on my bike at all!) Stay tuned. All seems possible.

Random Acts of Kindness

Saturday: 25 miles on the bike, 4 miles (ish) on the run. All was well, and I didn't really have to back off my knee at all (though that said, I was in HR zone 2ish mostly the whole time. Favorite part:

I'd just left my house and climbed the big hill near my neighborhood. I'd maybe been on the road a quarter mile. I mentioned that I recently rediscovered my Garmin 305, and that I'd only used it a few times before I'd lost it, so it had some settings that weren't to my preferences, and I realized this just into my ride. So, top of the hill, I stopped and was leaning over my handlebars, tapping away at my computer.

A voice said, meekly, "hello?"

I turned to the yard in front of which I'd stopped my bike, and a small woman, maybe in her 50's, walked precariously in my direction, holding a yellow frosty mug. "Are you okay?" She asked.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine!" I told her, "Just making some adjustments to my computer here."

"Ohhh," she said, relaxing her shoulders and smiling, "I thought you were sick or something!"

"Oh! No, I'm fine!"

She laughed, now totally relaxed. "I looked out my window, and it's such a hot day, and I saw you slumped over there and I thought, 'Oh no, he's not doing very well,' so I brought you out some water." She said, nodding towards the mug in her hand. Then she blushed, and said with a laugh, "Now I'm embarrassed!"

I was extremely touched. "Oh, geez...I...how sweet of you! What a kind thing to do. No no, I'm just getting started on my ride here and had some tinkering to do here...I...I'll certainly have some of your water, you went to all the trouble!"

And so she handed me the mug, it the currency of this brief exchange (it would have been a let-down, after all, to not have purpose for me to drink from it), and we chatted a bit about how her brother liked to ride bicycles, and how far was I going today, and it's hot outside today, and how I should be careful. And then she took her mug, and I thanked her again, and with a smile and a wave she went back inside her house.

And I thought of the first time, in 2004, that I rode my new road bike (not knowing yet the differences or advantages or even existence of those crazy 'tri-bikes'), and how I got a flat tire and walked 3 miles in my cleats as four different highway patrol officers whizzed by, none of them stopping for a "how's it going", and of all the times I'd been on a long ride and some redneck blares his horn just behind me, or of any number of less-than-polite things I've experienced or endured on a ride, and how this one thing made up for all of them.

Small Victories

Yesterday I swam over my lunch hour, about 40 minutes. In the afternoon I biked about 50 minutes, then ran about 50 minutes.

Conduct becoming of a triathlete. And, which I hadn't done - multisport training in a single day - since the first days of May.

I backed off and walked a bit when the knee started to protest. I geared down when I felt it on the bike. I wasn't out for speed, just for the experience. The (sometimes literal) learning to walk (again), before running.

But I felt good. I'm not in terrible shape - I've managed enough running, even the light mileage these last few months, to not be huffing and puffing. I'm embracing just being out there. Not checking my watch for speeds or tempos. Watching my heart rate to keep it low, and doing right by the bum knee. Being patient. I lack endurance, of course. It'll come. It'll all come.

Last night, then, I shaved my legs. Which I hadn't done since the first days of May.

Because that's what triathletes do.

...

Game on.

Breath Celebration, The Rider on Fyre, A Pregnant Chick and Purple Rain

I've been totally exhausted lately - I think my body is finally starting to demand repayment on the massive sleep debts I've acquired since March. So I'm really tired at night, really tired in the mornings. Anyway, yesterday I was up at 5:30 am to get to my office and get to work, and at about 7:00am, you'll be amused to know, I subjected myself to the wonders of yoga. I found a great websilte that has fully featured, downloadable yoga sessions, each about half an hour long, all free. Very well produced. Anyway, I pulled it up on on one of my monitors, turned the monitor towards my greater office, and got to it. I found a particular workout for beginners that was geared towards the hips and knees.

So it's as dorky as it sounds - I don't mean yoga in general (well, not entirely), but the scene: There's me, in my office, Jackson lying on the couch behind me eyeing me suspiciously, contorting myself into unimaginable poses. I have to check what the lady's doing 3 times because I can't make sense of it. I get it wrong more than I get it right. And the lady, she's saying things like "listen to your breath...celebrate the breath...know and treasure and welcome the breath..." - what the hell? So I'm trying to balance on one foot, and pull a leg behind me, and deal with how utterly unelastic I am, all while treasuring my breath.

But, by the end, I was actually getting the hang of it a little, and I think I actually enjoyed it some (weird new-agey lady not withstanding). I may try to start my day with it a few times a week. I think it would be good for me as a triathlete and a person. It did get me sweating a little, and I could easily isolate areas of major weakness with how unsteady I sometimes was.

So anyway, about 5:00pm, then, after a long day of work, I headed upstairs to get organized for an hour on my bike. I laid down on my bed for two minutes while Amy was chatting about her day, and when I opened my eyes a moment later it was nearly 7:00. Clearly, more than anything, I needed some rest.

After some dinner, then, I asked Amy if she'd like to join me for a bike ride - I thought I could at least enjoy a mild ride around our new town on Fyre, and it would be fun if she came along. She was excited about it, so went and got all changed (part of the fun for her and working out is the cute clothes) and came back down wearing an Under Armour top that I'd gotten her a long time ago, pre-pregnant. "Can I wear this?" and it was hilarious - imagine wearing the tight lycra that we usually do, then throwing a small beach ball underneath. I suggested maybe a t-shirt over it? but she seemed most comfortable with the pregnant lycra look.

Amy's bike is a Target Special, some 3 or 4 years old, that she's ridden maybe 10 times in her life (maybe), and which is a huge, heavy thing. And it's purple. It was all dusty and funky from years of storage, so while she tended to wiping it off and I tended to inflating tires, we were greeted by some passing neighbors that we hadn't met, which is always fun. Anyway, I imagine we looked like quite a pair - pregnant chick bursting out of her workout clothes, her hilarious yellow helmet (a child's size, even), humongous on her little head, with her dorky husband, all decked out in gloves and riding glasses and a jersey, the whole 9, just for a quaint ride around town. What a tool.

I went inside to grab my shoes - I have different shoes for Fyre than I do for Ol' Blue - and made the discovery of the century: During the madness of the weeks of getting ready for the move, I somehow lost my Garmin 305. This after the company had just replaced it for me, so it was brand new - I'd maybe used it five times or something. I remembered turning it on and setting it on a bench off my driveway (all at the old house, obviously) to detect satellites while I got Fyre ready for a ride, and then, in my haze of activity at that time, I rode off without the damn thing. The next day, when I wanted my watch to go run, it was nowhere to be found. As I don't lose things - ever - and I knew I'd set it on the bench, after days of looking around, I finally decided either I actually had lost it, or more likely some damn hoodlum in my old neighborhood swiped it while I'd forgotten it overnight on the bench or something. So, all these weeks since, I've been working out with my old 301, which has such a wacked out heart rate monitor in it that I don't even record HR during my workouts. Two days ago I finally ordered a new 305 - and as you know, these things ain't cheap - so I could get HR training back into my scheme of things. It's actually due to arrive today or tomorrow.

Anyway, of course you know how the story is going - I reached into my shoe, and there was my 305. I shouted in glee. Whahoo! Amy came bursting into the room, pregnant chick in lycra, sure I'd cut my finger off while slicing apples or something.

Alright, so we finally get on the road, and by this time we have about an hour of daylight left. We live in a hilly neighborhood, so we headed up our street and turned left, and were immediately met with our first hill. I was coaching Amy on how to get into her easiest gear while she was cursing me for bringing us up this damn hill right away, and maybe we could have done some gentle riding for awhile first, and maybe she'd like to ride her bike more often but dammit this is a little much on your first right, don't you think? until finally we crested the hill and saw the descent on the other side. "I like this part!" she yelped and cruised several blocks down the other side, me behind her and terrified that she'd fall off her bike or something. We get to the bottom of the hill, go a few flat block, then turned right - where another hill awaited us. She said crap, and maybe this is far enough and I can go on without her, and I said hell no and it's not as bad as it looks from here, they never are. So we start climbing again and her heretofore abandoned bike is screeching and clicking in protest with every gear change, arguing its re-entry onto the streets when it had been perfectly fine sleeping all these years. Something is wrong, Amy's saying, this doesn't sound very good, maybe my chain is about to fall off or something, and I assured her that she's okay, there's nothing we can do about her bike right now, it needs some love and attention but it'll be okay. Then to change the subject a little I asked her what her bike's name was, and she paused only a beat and said proudly, Purple Rain, and in a way that suggested I should have known that all along. I laughed. A few quiet moments of climbing later she asked if she's supposed to look up the hill while riding, or do you look down, and I said it depends, that on the Bitch Hills at Ironman you just watch your front wheel and pray to Jesus. She eyed her front wheel intently, then. Moments later she announced, mid-hill, that she needed a rest, so while I started to protest that no, don't stop in the middle of the hill it's harder that way, reward yourself with water at the top of the hill, she was already pulled over and taking a swig from her bottle.

We finally meandered a few more miles down the road to our destination, which was a river trail I'd been wanting to investigate. We approached the tiny river as it runs through town and found it surrounded en masse by hoards of gaggles of gooses, all oblivious that there were people in the world. They covered the sidewalk and street, and as we approached they didn't seem terribly concerned for moving until the last possible moment, then they'd flutter away, parting like the Red Sea, their huge wings beating the wind and they being so big so up close that I got a little creeped out.

We finally found our little trail, explored it only a little with promises to return soon, and headed home. Amy said she would lead us home, she's sure she could find us a way without so damn many hills, and in fact, she did. Our return trip was pleasantly hill free, and all was well but for her complaints that this damn seat isn't adjusted right at all, my butt bones are killing me on this thing. I promised her it would get better if she stayed at it.

Gentlemen, we can rebuild him.

A diagnosis! A plan! A potential! Whahoo!

First off, MUCH love and a full on kiss on the lips to Erin, who suggested to me the UW Health sports medicine clinic where I had my appointment today. This place was tha bomb. They had Triathlete magazine in the waiting room. What!?!

I called today to make my appointment, and they said the earliest they could get me in with a doctor was August 5th. Ugh. I pleaded for something better, and she said I could meet with an Athletic Trainer or a Physician's Assistant as early as Friday. Much better, but put my name on a cancellation list. They called 15 minutes later with an appointment for this afternoon. Dope.

Okay, so it's a great facility with a huge gym in the center of it, and it wreaks of athletes and sports medicine. It wasn't like walking into any other clinic I've ever been in - it had the tone and vibe of activity, not deathly illness, and all the other patients around me were high school and college kids clearly into athletics.

Anyway, I get in and see I think an Athletic Trainer, but I don't know for sure, I can't remember her name or what her title was, but she saw me first, gave me a priliminary diagnosis, then relayed that to the doctor who came in and met with me also. First thing was, they listened. I hate that doctors always seems like they're in a huge rush to get to the next person. And they always give me useless information. And I don't trust them. I have no real reason for the distrust, it's just a long held thing. Anyway, these people made me feel like an idiot for feeling that way. She went all the way back to May, when my injury first started, and listened as I told her what I knew - it was overuse. It feels like this. Sometimes like that. Not always, though. Today I did 5 miles and I'm fine, last week 2 miles and I limping. Then she started asking questions that indicated she knew what was happening with me - is it worse going up or downhill? Yes! Some swelling, but only slightly, not bad, right? Yes! She asks more questions, we talk about things, she asks me what I want out of this (besides the obvious, to be healthy in general) - is there something out there I'm training for? I told her I'd feel like a whole new person if I had a late season triathlon in front of me - just something to redeem these lost days and hopes.

So, she puts me on a table and we do some how about this, and now? and how about that, and finally she diagnosed and described what sounded right on to me. It's some kind of syndrome - patella something something - and it has to do with the cartilage just behind my kneecap. Not the cartilage between my leg bones that meet at the knee, which is typical miniscus stuff that requires surgery, but the cartilage behind the kneecap. She said this is the most common injury they see, and everything I'm describing is textbook. (I'm always surprised - I'm sure each time I'm injured that whatever it is will be the first time ever that a doctor has seen it, and he'll call over all his colleagues and they'll pore over me and scratch their heads. So dramatic.) Most interesting was a test she did where she wanted me to lift my right leg, while lying on my left side, vertically, towards the ceiling while she provided resistance. No big deal. I go over to my other side, my left side - where my knee is screwed up - and we did the same exercise and I couldn't resist her resistance at all - it was actually alarming, like something I should've noticed before. Much of the problem happening in my knee, it seems, is a results of weakness in my core. Wowwwwww. Huge epiphany.

So, the treatment: First, I'll start physical therapy to strengthen my core. This I'm excited about - I think it'll teach me great things, but also help this knee get better and avoid future injury. Then - we discussed running. This was after the doctor was in, so there were three of us in there. Not, "they told me what to do without a care for my thoughts" - we discussed it. Together. Basically, let pain be my guide. "If you can go 3 miles without pain, then go three miles." I asked, "Should I stop, though, when I feel it, or just when it hurts?" "Ah," said doc, "good question." He thought about this, and said, "I have no problem with you running if you feel it if you ran 5 miles today and aren't limping around. But don't get to a point where it's painful." I can swim all I want, and I should keep to the no-pain rule on the bike. Most importantly - they virtually prescribed a triathlon for me. Doc told me he thought I should put a late season sprint triathlon on my schedule, "because everybody needs goals to do their best." What? Kickass, this guy! But, he warned, I'm not to do more than sprint distance, and my training should be appropriate to sprint distances, and as one would when coming back from an injury. He told me I couldn't really injure it any worse if I ran through the pain, but that if I got to that limping point again, I'd basically have extinguished whatever healing progress I'd made to that point, and would start over. I need rest, he told me. But, the right kind of rest. "I don't want you to be a couch potato."

I can't tell you how excited, relieved, and happy I am to have some clear direction and advice by people that seemed to truly understand what I was about, what was important to me, and how I should proceed. To have a clear course of action - the PT - that's more than just "ice it and rest", which is what I thought for sure any doctor would tell me, and which of course I've been doing. These people were just fantastic. I feel a thousand times better.

So, mark your calendars everybody - Devil's Challenge Triathlon, September 15th. I feel so liberated, so happy to daydream about a race on my schedule. And while I'll train only within the boundaries of my healing, I am so going to attack this thing. I'm taking it full-on seriously. And by that I mean - I've had a tendancy the last two years to take Sprints a little lightly, since you can kind of go full throttle with no problems, not even drinking or eating if you don't want to. But like I said earlier - I will never, ever again take a day of racing for granted, no matter how short or small. This will be my first serious foray back into Ironman training. Game is on.

And - so much gratitude for everybody's well wishes on baby and my health. JB, very best of luck in your Ironman training, and please keep stopping by. Thanks Bill for your thoughts, and you'll love the concert for sure. TZ and everyone else, thanks a ton, it means a lot.

What a weekend

We headed back to Minneapolis last week for a stretch from Wednesday night, returning home last night. We were extremely busy - I had business meetings all day Thursday and a concert Thursday night (Alison Krauss & Union Station, which was ridiculous it was so good), we had Dr. appointments on Friday (we decided not to move our existing baby appointment away from our Minneapolis doctor, since we were coming back [at that time, anyway] for Lifetime, anyway. Now, though, we'll be getting a new baby doctor out here), then the triathlon - which Todd was racing, so I went to watch - on Saturday, as well as lunch with mother, and finally home yesterday morning. It was the least restful "vacation" ever, but it was great to be back and see our friends and family, and while I'm tired, we had a great time. Wanted to share some highlights with you:

First off - there are, in life, few times when you hear words that literally change your life. Where before those vibrations met the air your life was one way, and afterwards it is irrevocably changed. I've had a few, not all of them good. This year has been pretty well full of them, though. "You are an Ironman". "We're pregnant", and now this...

Utrasound Lady (U.S.L): ...okay, let me just angle in here... (with intentional pause for suspenseful pause for dramatic effect) ...okay. See these 3 lines?"

She pointed her cursor to three lines, nearly parallel, but all slightly pointing towards a centerpoint just to the left of the lines. The lines were on either side, and in the middle, of baby's legs.

Me (in my head): Is that the pork and beans, then? The cash and prizes? Looking at testicle testicle penis? Just what am I seeing, here????

U.S.L: "These lines indicate gender...you have a baby girl."

You have a baby girl.

You. Have. A baby. Girl.

And I put my hand on Amy's leg, and put my head down, and just quietly wept. As, to my surprise, I do just now.

Somehow I've known she was a girl forever. And not just since we were pregnant, but I think maybe my whole life - that my first (or maybe only, we have no plans here past tomorrow) child would be a girl. I certainly didn't have any kind of preference, and as I've been telling people, I don't care if it's a Gila Monster in there as long as it's healthy. And that is the God's honest truth. But in my heart, I've known baby was a girl. It wasn't just a feeling, or a suspicion. It's so that every image I've had of Amy and I parenting a child has been parenting a little girl. And that if it were a boy, I'd have had to revise all of those images. Which, I would have been happy to do. Only saying, I've just known all along. Which is weird. But to hear the words is still profound, and alters one's life significantly. Pretty huge, amazing stuff. Now, is there a chance the U.S.L is wrong? Yes - as she told us, and she has to, they can't be 100% sure until baby is actually out of there. But she said she's 99% sure, as sure as any of the information can give her, and that there was nothing confusing about what she was seeing. And, she told us, if she wasn't sure, she wouldn't have told us.

Baby is a riot. She was in there the whole time flopping all around. She started the ultrasound breech, and by the end was in some crazy acrobatic position. She was moving her little hands and arms and legs around. It was so surreal, to see a little person, which you are responsible for, in the act of becoming. To actually see her. In fact, you feel a little like you're invading her privacy in there - she's beyond, at this point at week 23, being just a dynamic hunk of cells - she actually has intentions, and actions, and some basic ideas in there, however rudimentary.

Anyway, she posed perfectly for us, and the U.S.L. lady was able to get some great shots. A few I'm happy to share - first, her profile (I swear she looks a little like me already...), and second, her crazy acrobatics, where if you adjust to the image you'll see she's almost touching her nose with her knee, her feet are way over her head, and she's reaching out to touch her toes. Crazy baby.





The whole experience just made baby so much more personal to us (not that she wasn't before, but you get it), and it's very exciting.

Saturday, then, Mike, Patrick and I banded together as Team 'Zilla and headed over to Lake Nokomis to watch Todd (ToddZilla, or TZ, as I like to call him) rip up the Lifetime Triathlon. This is Todd's A race, his first year at the Olympic distance, and he was in full form heading into the race. First we three parked clear on the other side of where we wanted to be on the lake - I have no idea how to park for these things when I'm not racing - and so after we first walked forever to the lake, realized we should be somewhere else, headed forever back to the car, drove around misc. roadblocks, found a parking spot forever away, we finally made it to the beach. Thus, we missed the start of the race, but we were there to see him exit the water. It was a perfect day for racing - I've never had such a perfect day, thanks very much - with a bit of a breeze, but temps in the 70's and enough clouds to keep the sun from screaming down. Todd looked great coming out of the water, and I screamed my head off for him and ran down the chute until he headed into transition where, as a non-athlete, I was not allowed. Sigh. Anyway, I watched him head off out of T1, and figured a window for how long it would take him on the bike - he came in right at the near end of that window, so that we almost missed him! But, the way the approach to T2 works at Lifetime, he has to make a sharp left turn and go around a point in the park, so I was able to run from one location down to another and see him making his final pedals into T2, screaming for him as obnoxiously as possible the whole way. A short jaunt across another part of the park and I was able to meet him on his first of two laps around the lake on the run. As soon as I saw him coming I'd shout "TeeeeeZillaaaaaaa!", and the people around me would laugh and Todd would throw up his fist with pointer and pinky extended, universal sign for kicking-ass and taking-names.

He got up to me, smiling and looking great, and I ran with him for a few strides. "How 'you feeling?"
"Good - my goggles broke right before the swim!"
"What?! - you looked good on the bike!"
"Yeah, feeling good."
"Kick ass baby, we'll see you next time around!"
Then I'd slow to a stop while he kept on, and I'd shout after him "Goooo TeeeeZillaaaaa!" and he'd throw up his ass-kicking fist again.

Then we three went to find a new spot for his second lap, and we tried to go somewhere a little more isolated, because as an athlete I like when there are people cheering in some of the quieter spots. We saw him again, and I screamed as obnoxiously as possible as soon as I saw him, and he erupted into a grin again, and again I ran with him. He said he was feeling good, "All day, baby!". I told him negative splits from here on out baby, pick it up and set it down! We watched him go, then, and headed to the finish line to see him. Patrick and Mike stayed in the finish chute, and I made my way up further, so that I met him just at the turn-off before the finish chute is in sight. I screamed again, and told him to throw down whatever he had left. He looked great, all day - smiling and looking easy breezy. He finished in something around 2:32, which as you know is pretty damn dope.

I guess his goggles broke, like, literally 3 seconds before he was to jump in the water. To hear him tell it, he turned around and looked at the world like, "what the hell do I do now?", and luckily some lifeguard or volunteer showed up out of nowhere and provided him with a pair. This is all to his credit - I think I would've thought - shit! what?! - and just jumped in the water and swam blind the whole time. He did great to not let that kind of thing discourage him, and to enjoy the day and race hard instead of letting those things, out of your control, into your head and your race day. And, he doesn't know it yet, but that's a big part of becoming Ironman. :)

How was it for me? Well, I'll be honest. The part watching Todd was incredible, and really fun, and awesome. But the part not out there racing with him...It totally blew. To feel on the outside, it made me sad and a little cranky. Volunteers were telling me where I could and couldn't go. I was blocked off from where I was and wasn't allowed to be. I was not, by rights, a part of it. I saw the newbies on their mountain bikes, and the pros on their rocket ships, and I knew how it felt to be wet on the bike, a little chilled, but not uncomfortable. I could feel the sand on my bare feet as I ran up to transition, in my zone of race-day brilliance, hearing friends and family cheering. I missed it terribly, and I'll tell you that I cried just a little. But, like the rest of it, I learned from it, too. As I told Todd later that day, I don't want to make too much of it - it's not like I've lost a limb or something, I haven't totally lost perspective here - but to not be able to race and have to watch a race, it makes one realize that even a "bad day" racing is better than no day at all. And so to that, there is no "bad day" racing. Just be grateful for the opportunties we have to be out there. It's a great, great game, and it's hallowed ground in some ways, and to be a triathlete - to be among those that just step up to the line - is to be blessed, and among the best there are. Here's hoping that's the last race I ever watch, at least unless by my choosing.

But - while I expected to mostly feel like shit about it all morning, I actually really enjoyed myself. I was mostly focused on Todd's race, and on where and when to go next to get to where we needed to be. I again have deepest respect for the spectators, particularly Team Bintliff whenever I race, because it's a lot of work for a combined 45 seconds of interaction with somebody important to you, and it says a lot about how loved and respected all of these people are that so many people come out to watch them. More than anything, I'm just stupid proud of Todd. He's worked really hard for this, and he's continuing to work hard, and he's not just a hack out there to try it on - he's a bonafide triathlete now. Kid's got mad speed on the run, too. I'm excited to do 70.3 together next year. So big shout out, much love, and deep respect to my man T.Zilla. Well done, dude. Here's to the next chapter together.


Last year at Lifetime, where next year we'll kick ass and take names


Knee update: I have an appointment at 3:30 today, thanks to Erin for the info and recommendations on where she's had success. I have no idea how it'll go - like I said, it might be a little difficult explaining this whole thing to a doctor, but we have to start somewhere. I'll let you know what I know when I know it.

Life. Time.

My buddy Mike said to me last night - do you need to remember why you got into this in the first place? It wasn't a loaded question, just an honest one. And a good one to ask. I got into it for the fitness first - to create and maintain a healthy lifestyle. Also to re-involve competition in my life. It was never - and has never and isn't now - about race times, or beating the guy next to me. But also, when I took that first step, it was not about distances, or Ironman. It was just about something new in my life, something healthy and good. Ironman came into it later.

But, IM has never superceded my reasons for doing it. It has appropriately fallen into those reasons. It is so damn hard. And because of it, it taps deepest into my well of wanting - to train right, and best, and hard. To race with purpose. To involve this thing in my life with meaning. It's easy to lose perspective in all of this, especially when sidelined. I don't think I have. Lost perspective, I mean.

Thanks for the words of encouragement, everybody. And you there Kressa, for the freakshow comments that you leave. Funny girl. All are appreciated. I'm going to continue to figure this out. And meanwhile, I think get back to some of the science.

I'll be watching my good buddy Todd at Lifetime on Sunday, and I'll do my best to cheer him on right, as he did for me at Ironman. Lifetime was my first "Ironman" - it was the poster I saw, in late 2003, when I weighed 235 complacent and bored pounds, and said, "I want to change." It's a race that has a very special place for me, and to not do it this year - when I'm all signed up - it's hard. We're headed back to Minneapolis this weekend - originally planned all around Lifetime weekend - for baby dr. appointments and several business meetings. I promised Amy I won't bring Ol' Blue, as if I did I'd probably get myself into the race as-is, and probably that's not best for me right now. So, I'll be watching. I've never watched a triathlon before. Kick ass TZ. Kick ass and take names.

Stay tuned.

Reset

Update: Read here and here, point #3. I don't think it's ITBS, because mine is on the inside of my left knee. The Runner's Knee looks petty promising, though. I think I may see a doctor tomorrow after all. As usual, perhaps I am not the first person in the world to experience such a thing, and some remedies can be easily found. That said - nothing in this post really changes. I'll keep you posted.

So. A busy and family-centric 4th of July week, which was great and exhausting fun. Ate too much, drank too much, stayed up too late and saw too many movies, but wouldn't change a thing. That said, it's time to get back to real life.

Let's talk about this mutherfucking knee. Well first off, lately people are posting these things about how their blog is rated PG-13 or R or NC-17 or whatever. Because they say "ass" or something. Which is amusing. Anyway, I've never found it useful to censor my normal way of speech on this thing, so if ye be offended, I cry your pardon, thankee sai. Just part of being me.

Okay, on with the show. The season, I have to all but accept, is over. It never really got started, true, but I can tell you that it is depressing as hell to wait all winter for the sun to come out, thinking about awesome race day mornings and those great long rides and all the things that make up the context of our being triathletes, only to be sidelined when the time comes. I've been trying, for a week, to make some kind of peace with this. I can, only to an extent. I've learned a lot this non-season - valuable, expensive lessons - and I imagine I'll be learning for some time.

The first thing I learned was that - and this may come as no surprise, but is difficult for me nonetheless - Iron is privilege, not a right. When the fitness starts to go, for whatever reasons - in my case, the whole saga with the move really derailed me - just because one is an Ironman does not mean he's categorically at all times prepared for 26.2 miles, or 13.1, or even 10 or 6. Of course this is common sense, but when one finishes Ironman, and is in such absurd shape and such a ridiculous level of fitness, it's hard to accept that it's possible to not be in a constant state of ready to kick ass and take names. I don't know if this is arrogance - I hope not - or just foolishness. Maybe some of all. Truth is: I did this to myself, this knee injury. I can tell you precisely how it happened, and it happened because I was being reckless. I wouldn't have called it reckless at the time, but I know now that I was. In March and April, when my schedule just totally derailed, I was still trying to plug in 12, 13, 15 miles on the weekends without the 3, 4, 6, 8 mile maintenance runs during the week to support that kind of mileage. Classic overdoing it, undertrained. I had a great base this winter, but lost it in the spring.

Second lesson so far: For what? I scheduled an early season marathon, and right now that seems like a really, really stupid decision. What good, really, does an early season marathon do me when I want to be competing in triathlon through September? Running is difficult, hard on the body, and is activity that can leave one more prone to injury than the swim or bike. A late season marathon - with a summer full of tri to reinforce the training - seems appropriate. But all that running this winter/spring for a generally meaningless marathon was stupid. I think I was acting like I had something to prove, and that's also stupid. I can't think of what that is right now, but I can think of no other reason why signing up for a May marathon would seem fun or purposeful. And I've considered January marathons in the past. Maybe that's possibe if I just shift summer tri training to fall running training, but a May marathon, falling almost smack at the end of base training and just when it gets serious (and fun) for tri training was short sighted. I won't do that again.

Third lesson: Life happens. This isn't my job. I don't depend on racing to put dinner on the table. It's okay to not be super rockstar triathlete every minute of every year, even thought that's kind of what I want to be. If I'd have rearranged my plans and priorities when the move stuff went down, maybe I'd have had a season of just sprint races. Or something. That would have been okay - I could've happily lived with that. Adjust to the reality, whatever it is, instead of staying stubborn on the road, even if full of ruts and cracks.

Fourth lesson: buck up, shit happens. The recent Triathlon mag - the one about XTerra, had some useful bits in it about injury. Cam Widoff, who I don't know enough about to have an opinion but who isn't, for whatever reason, on my cool list, made a few comments about injury that were useful, which basically stated - it happens. It's part of the sport. People lose entire seasons, and that's life. All true. And some of the XTerra guys had some insanity - out for the season with broken necks, or broken wrists, or whatever. So hey - it could always be worse. Doesn't change the fact that - stupid knee or broken wrist, I'm still not out there. But injury - or illness, or babies, or whatever else life has in store for us when not on the bike - is part of the mystery of it all. To be respected and appreciated all the same.

Part of that last is, of course, bullshit. I'm trying to make this easier for myself. But much of it is true. And I need to deal with that.

Those that know me well - and I suppose in this arena those who are constant readers do - know that acknowledging a lost season is...incredibly disappointing. Incredibly.

Those same know that my return next season will be one of...assertiveness. Because I am pissed off. I have only myself to blame, but I will find a way to personify this thing - this injury and its roots, wherever they are borne within and without me - and anthropomorphize it, and turn it into my enemy, so that next season I will choose to see this lost season as an adversary. And it will be the thing chasing me through thunderstorms, and the thing infiltrating my head with fear and doubt, and Rider and Machine will mount up and slay some new dragons.

The worst thing you can do in this game is take it for granted. Get complacent with it. Get comfortable with it. Ironman is some kind of angry animal. You can figure out a way to harness it, maybe even approach it, the lucky few ride it, become part of it. But it's still an animal. It'll still bite your hand off if it deems you unfit for its company. I will have work to do to Become Ironman again. This is never more clear to me than when 4 miles leaves me limping.

So here's what happens now: First, an update. 4 miles today, and I managed it. I mowed the lawn afterwards. I was not left in excruciating pain like I have been. See, I don't know what to do with this. Unless it's in a full flared state, and it's not all the time and it seems a bit random after which runs it will flare - it will be difficult to communicate with a doctor about what's going on. I'm not afraid to do that or anything, but I kind of have to wait for "the next time" this thing goes out of control - otherwise it'll be a wasted trip. This calls, by the way, on my inherent distrust of the medical profession at large (do you count Pharmie? I don't think you do, I'll buy drugs from you any day), where I don't think they have a damned idea what they're talking about half the time. But, it's irresponsible to not see a doctor about this, and so I will just as soon as I have something to communicate to them. Otherwise it goes like this: "So where does it hurt?" - "Well, it doesn't right now, but it did yesterday. Here." - "Here? Is there pain when I press here?" - "No, there isn't any today. But yesterday, whoowee." - "Yesterday." -"Right." Etc. etc. So I don't know what to do with that.

Secondly, and I realize I'm falling into a self-diagnosis trap, but if it were some kind of seriousness, some kind of torn something or other, wouldn't it hurt, like, all the time? Not just during and after a run, but during and after all runs? And not 4 miles into it, but pretty right away? The next day too? Or when mowing the lawn? Or after a long walk with the dogs? Or a day of standing? Or whatever?

Anyway, back to the point: here's what happens now. You remember in Rocky 4, when he goes to Russia and grows a beard and chops wood? That's me. Except for the beard and the wood chopping. I'm going back to base training. Day One. January First. Three milers during the week, long runs of 5ish during the weekends. An hour, max two on the bike. Probably a lot of time in the water. Lots of walking, and rest. If the knee flares up - then off the doctor I go, the very first time. If it doesn't, and instead responds to the lower mileage and more relaxed workouts, then I know it needs continued "restful exercise".

It's not at all unlikely that the thing will require some kind of surgery. I'm prepared for that, I think. I have to just see how it goes. Sigh.

So, stay tuned. IMWI '09 is a go. These are my first steps. However painful they prove to be.

Dammit.

4.5 miles today. Was good through 4. Walked the last half mile for the pain in my knee.

Killing me tonight.

Shiiiiiiiiiiit.

On the Road Again

So I was finally back on my bike this week. I knew my knee issues were more than just some kind of impact fatigue from running when it was also hurting like hell on the bike - especially climbing - which suggested (to my incredible grasp of medical and biological sciences) that there was some kind of tendon or ligament issue going on. Anyway, as the run went well, I thought I'd try the bike. Same story as the run - the knee felt fine.

I live, in my happy new world, about 3 miles from Lake Kagonsa, a huge lake here that my aunt & uncle live on (and which served as Team Headquarters during Ironman, and wherein I've done countless open water swims, not to mention zipping about on a sea-doo with Jackson, which is a vision). Bordering the lake are several small county roads, as well as a major highway, and a state park. In Minneapolis, I preferred to drive about 15 minutes to get a bit on the edge of the suburbs to be able to safely connect to the outlands without dealing with major traffic. Here, I open my garage door and within 5 minutes I'm on a county road. Ridiculous.

I charted a short course - about 15 miles - taking me north, then west, then south, then a bit back east - taking me from my house around the lake and back to my aunt & uncles, where cold beer and brats awaited me. Like the IM course, it seems all of Wisconsin was meant for biking, and its absurdly beautiful. Lush farmland, picturesque silos and barns, corn as tall as my Grandpa. My uncle was joking the other day that former governor Tommy Thompson never met a highway or road construction company he didn't like, which means the gravel road out here is hard to find - and though some of these county roads were a little rough near the shoulder, generally it was smoother blacktop than I found in Minnesota. I saw 3 other triathletes tucked into aero bars on my ride, and cars out here are so used to seeing us that there's so much less of that perceived antagonism that I felt on the roads in Minnesota - people here aren't so "damn you bikers!", since they deal with us every day. All in all, it's just really refreshing, really different, really new for me.

There are also, on my ride, hills - several of them. This is great - that on weekends I can plan my long rides around the Ironman course if I want to, but that even my maintenance rides will have some built in hill training - something I didn't have at all on my regular routes in Minnesota. The hills are nothing IM caliber or anything - shorter and less steep - but still, they're hills. I found myself more than once riding the brakes downhill, not having sufficient time on the bike this year to have the courage to open it up yet (that wheel wobble thing from last season is still, I have found, living in my head...and it may until a new iteration of Ol' Blue finds its way into my atmosphere).

The road stays within a few miles of the lake, and the final southward stretch hovers right near it. That's cool, too, to be able to ride on the shores of a place so meaningful to me - 11 years of July 4th reunions (which we're gearing up for now for next week!), so many adventures and lazy days on the boat or the dock, even the place Amy and I got engaged. To now have it be a regular backdrop to this part of my life taps deeply into the sentimental pieces of me that triathlon so often reveals.

So. Another run scheduled today, and maybe a ride as well, and my first "long ride" I'm scheduling for Sunday - not sure yet how far that is...still wanting to really go easy with the knee, so I'll shoot for 25 minimum. I'll keep you posted.

For your amusement...

Just a quick note before heading to sleep - more tomorrow on yesterday's successful (and still pain free!) first ride in Wisconsin, but for now this, which is hilarious and kickass.

Hello Wisconsin!

Well, if you're still out there at all, if anybody's actually still interested, I bid you a very hearty hullo. It's been a crazy spring, a crazy summer, and so far it's been The Season That (Almost) Wasn't. But, things are finally starting to make sense, and if the injury gods allow, I may still be able to salvage something here.

We're officially Wisconsinites now - this is our...what...10th day of living here or something? We live in a very lovely small town - about 11,000 people (which is about the size of where I grew up in Dakota), and though it's only 13 miles from Madison, it's not "suburban" at all - the town has it's own history and personality that I'm sure I'll be discovering for a long time. We live in an amazing house in a beautiful neighborhood and, true to the Madison way of life, every day I'm just astonished with how active this place is. People constantly walking by with dogs, or jogging, or zipping along on a bike. It's almost some kind of athlete's Rockwell painting or something, and we've met more neighbors in the past week than we did in 6 years of living in suburban Minneapolis (which was a reflection both on the suburb and on our general disinterest in our particular neighborhood). So far, so good. It feels more like "home" everyday.

Of course it is difficult to live away from our many good friends in Minneapolis, but I think we're figuring it out - not terribly difficult in this crazy age of communication, but nothing beats the actual presence. That's just another thing we'll be adjusting too.

We're officially halfway through the pregnancy (well, now plus a few days), and all seems to be going well. Almost every night Amy places my hand on her belly and says "feel that?", and sometimes I think I do, and sometimes I'm not sure what I'm feeling or supposed to be feeling, but last night was a bonafide alien movement coming from in there, and that's some kind of insanity, I'll tell you what.

Okay, so now that everybody's caught up, let's get back to the game.

A refresher: In late April, in the midst of all the move stuff that was slowly chipping away at my ability to consistently work out, I was trying to still nail down at least one long run - 10+ miles - even if I wasn't able to reinforce the run with shorter distances throughout the week. I paid for it when I was forced to stop during a run and nurse a knee that was killing me. I mostly rested it, and ran a 13.1 in mid-May that on paper went pretty well, but didn't really, and I could hardly walk for 4 days afterwards with the knee - it was in full aggravation. I don't know how to explain the pain, except that it lives sort of under my left knee cap and in the soft tissue around it. In my research it doesn't appear to be any of the usual suspects (though it very well could be) such as cartilage/miniscus or ACL stuff, but it got so that I couldn't run 2 miles without having to stop and walk, and then hobble around for days, even after just the 2 milers. Incredibly disheartening, and my plan has been, once moved, to seriously address it with a trip to the doctor. Meanwhile, I'd give the knee as much as 10 full days off from running, and then I'd go out and be okay to about 2 miles, and then suddenly limping after 2.5.

In addition, I'm nursing some kind of painful and consistent shoulder injury that might be a rotator cuff thing, and I think I've been dealing with that in some form or another since long before Ironman. But - one thing at a time. I can live with the shoulder thing (for now). The knee thing has been kicking my ass.

I skipped my first (and hopefully last) race on June 9th, though I am okay with the decision. Besides being injured, it was the weekend before we moved and we had a lot to do. Bottom line was that it wasn't in my family's best interests for me to go out and spend the time and energy on something focused only on my own satisfactions, however important in the grand scheme those satisfactions are to me. Still, missing a race you signed up for...ugh.

Anyway, last week I tried 3 miles with a gaudy knee brace I picked up at Target, and I felt pretty good about it - maybe 85%, which is so much better than I've felt all season. I still had pain the rest of the day, but it didn't last for days like earlier in the season. I didn't want to attribute too much to it - maybe the brace was doing some of the hard work and masking my symptoms or problem. Along the way, of course, I've fallen significantly out of shape, and it's been pretty heartbreaking to think that last season this weekend I was doing my 2nd Half Ironman and was clipping right along towards Ironman, and this year I'm considering walking the dogs "exercise". Bah.

Alrighty, so this weekend I just got fed up with all of it - the lack of exercise, the poor nutrition, the aimlessness of my season, etc. I've felt like a prisoner to my knee and it's been driving me mad. Of course, all the resolve in the world doesn't mean much if I can't physically go out there and do what needs to be done.

So yesterday - Monday - I went out to just see what was possible. I wanted a minimum of 3 miles if I could do it. I'd given my knee a full week of complete rest, and mostly this was a defining workout - if I had the status quo pain during and after, I'd be in the doctor's office on Tuesday, prepared for whatever course of action was required.

I'm happy to report - cautiously - that for once I had a decent run.

Jack & I ran 2.5 miles to my grandparents house for a 10 minute water break, then ran another mile, walked half a mile, and ran a quarter mile the rest of the way back home. Without a brace. My knee felt - well, really good. I had none of the expected pain, and I considered it about 95% normal - that 5% might even be exaggerated, and while I felt a few whispers of the pain I've been experiencing, nothing even close to the normal debilitating pain, and in fact if I wasn't nursing it so heavily I'd probably not even have noticed it as anything but normal soreness. I wasn't hobbled up by it at all last night after running, even though I iced it as a matter of prevention when I got home, and this morning I feel fine. I don't want to make too much of it, but I am so encouraged that maybe I can actually get back in the game. We'll see more after a ride today, and a week's worth of workouts, and some real stress to see how far we can go.

I had mentally all but given up on the Lifetime triathlon in mid-July, an Olympic distance. I'm going to just take each day here as it comes, and that race may still be a gametime decision. If I am coming back from this injury, I have to be so careful not to reaggravate it with a distance or intensity I'm not ready for. We'll see.

Meanwhile, 2 things of note: I'll be trying to take some pics of my new area on my workouts, to give you a sense of how things are for me out here now. Also, I'm excited to report that my friend Todd (who you know as a regular visitor here and who's having a really great first Oly season) and I have committed to training and racing together for a Half Iron next season. I'm really excited about it - we haven't figured out all the details of the "virtual" training together, but he's going to be in charge of the off-season weight training plan, and I'll be in charge of the Half Iron training plan. I'm a really solitary training person, but the "virtual" accountability of it will add a new flavor, and Todd's just the right kind of guy for me to do this with, so I think it'll be a blast. Not sure yet what Half we'll do - maybe Steelhead? We'll see.

Alright, that's all for now - you're officially caught up. I'm all moved in now, and the myriad distractions and obligations away from the game are sorting themselves out now. Come on back to the blog regularly now, cuz I am.

All About Me

So, let's catch up. I've been AWOL a bit, and I think it'll get worse before it gets better.

2 weeks ago I ran a half marathon. I approached it as mostly a fun run, and Amy's family and some friends were doing the marathon as a relay, so it was not a high pressure situation. My training being for CRAP, I had no expectations, and just went in to enjoy the day. Amy's sister was up for the first leg of their relay, so she and I ran the first 5 miles together. We'd decided earlier to just go easy, and stuck to about a 10:00 pace. All was well, and we enjoyed those 5 miles chatting and enjoying the crowds, even though the weather was crap for my 4th race in a row - low 50's and wind...if it had been raining, it would have been IM conditions all over again.

Anyway, at 5 miles we went separate ways, and, feeling good, I decided to see what I could do in the next 3 miles, then play it by ear. I ticked along at just over an 8:00 pace until mile 8, and then, still feeling good, sold out to really throw down for the last 5 miles. I've had two nagging issues all spring - my left knee, and my right achilles/calf area. Both loosened up a bit as the run continued, and by mile 8 I was feeling pretty solid.

Anyway, I clock along sub 8:30 until about the last half mile, when I just couldn't sustain it and slowed to around 9:30. I finished in just about exactly 2 hours - almost exactly the same time that I ran an early spring half marathon last year. On the surface that seems exciting - a strong time despite my poor training this year - but I paid for it. My knee was killing me for 4 days - the result, I think, of just doing more mileage on my long runs this spring than I have been properly prepared for.

So - that injury has been nagging ever since. In fact, I can't get 2 miles before it starts to hurt to the point of forcing me into a walk, and then it'll hurt for 2 more days. It even hurts on the bike - especially climbing. I didn't expect that, and that sucks. I don't know how to describe it - it's almost behind and underneath the knee cap. And, I don't know what to do with it. It feels like stop-it pain; there are two kinds of pain - ignore-it pain, where whatever it is isn't that big of a deal and you can train through it, and stop-it pain, where it feels more significant and you'd do well to stop whatever you're doing. So, I've been feeling in a holding pattern with this damn thing. I'm headed out for a run today, to see what happens, after letting it rest since my ride on Tuesday.

We move 2 weeks from today, and we're really excited. The house is full of boxes and miscellany as we get prepared and organized to move out, and all final arrangements have been mostly made - soon it's just a matter of finishing packing up, then getting out of town. I was thinking on my ride Tuesday - a short 20 miler - that I'll miss that well worn route, my training route that got me to Ironman. But...I'm also a little bored of it. It'll be fun to find a new training space in a new place, get acquainted with new country roads and routes. There's even a hill in my neighborhood that'll be perfect for doing some hill-running. And of course, the opportunity to train the IMWI course whenever the mood strikes. I do hope, after the move, that I'll be able to get back to training and blogging more regularly and share that new piece of life with whoever's out there.

And, most importantly of all, baby is doing well. 16 weeks 5 days today, and we heard the heartbeat again for the second time yesterday. Man, I tell you there is no sweeter sound. My face just erupts into a grin when I hear that little whooshwhooshwhoosh, Part Two working so hard in there to Become. And, I gotta say, solid heartrate, that little one has. Ironman in the making. Me & TST's shorties, rocking Kona '30. Sweet!

Anyway, that's me for now, the further tales of Ironman in Transition. What a weird season. Hang in there with me though - I've been given tentative family clearance for IMWI '09 - we'll see how it goes with baby, so I won't make it official for awhile. Still, something to think about. Sigh. One of these days, I swear I'll be a triathlete again.

Blazeman

If you don't know about him, you should. If you never caught the Kona '05 NBC telecast, you should try to somewhere.

John Blais has passed away.

Shame

Let's forget for a moment the broader discussion of doping in sports, or the mulitbajillion dollar contracts in baseball or football that might infect one's personal ethics so that doping becomes a potential for any athlete.

And nevermind if it's worth the risk in pro cycling (it isn't), considering how relatively little a pro cyclist gets paid (in scheme of pro sports in general).

Nevermind how corrupt the WADA (World Anti-Doping Agency) and USADA almost certainly are.

And nevermind if Floyd did it or not. Or that Greg LeMond seems so often like such a puke of a guy.

How in the hell, how in the hell, can anything so grand-scheme-unimportant as racing bicycles come to this?

I'm embarrassed by the lot of them. Shame on the game.

Mortal

Remember in Superman II when he decides to give up his powers and becomes just a regular dude? And suddenly he can't fly, and Clark gets his ass kicked as the diner, and nothing really goes right because not only is he mortal, but he doesn't really understand how to be mortal?

That's me these days.

And yeah, I'm comparing myself to a superhero, and just be glad it's not Batman from the crappy 4th movie when the suit had nipples.

Since the fall of 2003, really, I've had in my life this singular source of motivation: Ironman. And I began this lifestyle that saw me running and biking and swimming several times a week, rain or shine, come what may. I slowly developed into a kind of machine. And last summer, a superhero. Bullet proof. Injury proof. I could run forever. I was locked into every nuance of the game. I could tell you my watts on a given 80 mile ride. I was up at 5am on the weekends to workout. I was so dialed in, and felt unstoppable, strong, amazing. The climax to that movie, of course, was Ironman.

This year. Bah. I've said before that it's okay that real life demand some attention this year, and probably I say it out loud so much to make my own peace with it, which I think will never come easily. And, I need to stop seeing "real life" as, I guess, "real life." Like it's some anomoly, in competition to the Ironman lifestyle. Probaly the trick is to find a way to do both - after all, and like I've said before, doctors and mothers and policemen do this stuff every day. But, for whatever reasons, this season I'm finding it just about impossible to get into the river. There are lots of distractions, and other things to focus on, and as I've said before there, too, those things have their own rewards. I'm not unhappy or anything, just...unfamiliar.

I have a half marathon to run this weekend, and so I was out for 6 miles yesterday. I'm lucky these days to get a 6-miler in at all. Today I have soreness. What is that? I remember when 16 miles barely left me feeling it the next day. I feel like such a hack. What I really need to do is start over. Like, seriously begin again the whole season with short 3 miles runs and half an hour on the bike, and begin the build again. But, hard to do when I'll be taking 2 weeks off soon for the move. So in my mental schedule it's seriously, like, the first week of July before I'm able to start training seriously again.

But maybe to hell with that. Maybe I need to not be so OCD about it, arranging a workout schedule that's "just perfect". I have a kid on the way people, "just perfect" workout schedules are a thing about to be long gone. Maybe this is part of the bigger game - figuring out how to make this go in the wider world. Maybe that's a purpose to find: How does Superman exist among mortals without having to give up what makes him Superman.

Feel a little like I'm flailing here.

Sigh.

Someday, not yet, I'm going to Become Ironman again. Better. Smarter. For all the reasons one chooses to Become. But next time around I think I'll have a new and different appreciation for the process, even as much as I loved it the first time.

Yet, and I suppose this is important: I do think its true that, once an Ironman, always. It lives in you. Thick in your blood. And it's that thing that burns essential. The body, which is in need of reconstruction, is at least secondary to the heart for it - the willingness, the discipline. Those things are intact. I guess that's something.

Anyway. I think I have to think on this awhile. So meanwhile, I'm not Superman just now. Need to make some kind of peace with that. I guess, s'okay. There's another superhero who's suit I'll always fit into.

Race Report: Chain of Lakes Triathlon

Well first off, thanks one and all for your words of kindness and support with our big news. It was so weird to be going through this huge thing, but not talking about it. Glad to be able to share more freely now all the craziness that is with this thing.

So - had my first race on Saturday. A short little thing that I've done now for the 4th time, and 4 years ago was my first triathlon ever. It's grown each year - not the race, but to me - from that first year just being me and Mike heading down to this year having a good chunk of The Team along for the ride, as well as my good friend and fellow triathlete Todd competing in the race as well. There were 7 of us for the weekend, and the race has become probably the smallest part of it all, though maybe still the reason we have for heading down - the rest of the time is spent in fun and adventure with good friends. Good stuff.

Anyway, so, race day. The weather was in the 50's. Rainy. Windy. Sound familiar? Apparently the triathlon gods have decreed that all my races should be of Ironman meteorology. Though it was warmer this weekend than at Ironman, but it was windier, too.

The swim for this race is in an indoor pool, so they cram 8 lanes with 3 or 4 swimmers each to get us all out the door, but in 8 separate heats. As it happened, both Todd and I ended up in the last heat of the day - 8 - and even in the same lane, which was pretty cool. But with all those swimmers going before us, it was literally 2 hours from the official "start" of the race until our race began. Lots of downtime in between setting up transition and actually getting on with it. And, as luck had it, the rain held off all day until just when we started the swim. Then it came down like the wrath of God.

As we've discussed ad nauseum, I've had the crappiest spring of training ever, so I had no real expectations at all going into the race. In fact, except for my chronograph watch and on-board bike computer, I didn't bring anything else with me on-course to chart pace or time or heartrace. I just wanted to go as hard as I could, wherever that got me.

Anyway, so Todd and I were in Lane 2 together, and I started - he had to wait 7 seconds or so for me to get a few body lengths ahead of him, and then the guy behind him followed us. I started the swim - 600 yards - fast and strong, before settling into my rhythm. I felt pretty good on the swim, if not a shade more winded than I would be in any kind of real "race" conditioning. I jumped out of the water in 10:47, which gave me a 1:48/100 time - certainly as fast as I could hope having zero pool time in the last 6 weeks. I think it's interesting to compare that last year, when I was in Ironman training and in great shape even this early in the season, I swam it in 10:11, for a 1:42 pace. The difference between being in shape and not is more than 35 seconds; 6 seconds/100. That's pretty huge.

I headed out of the pool and into T1, where everything was soaking wet. Because we were the last heat the transition area was pretty empty. Even though I covered my gear with a plastic bag in the morning, it's still such a hassle to get organized in transition when everything is wet. Todd was only a length behind me in the pool, so I expected him to be right behind me coming into transition, but he finally showed up just as I was leaving (I even took time to put a jacket on, which was a good decision for how cold and windy it was) - turns out the idiots inside made him swim an extra lap. So it is in these tiny little triathlons. Happily he had a good attitude about it, though.

So I'm on the bike for maybe the 4th or 5th time all spring, and heading into a nasty 20mph headwind. The rain was falling, and hard...and then the skies opened up with some thunder and lightening and it REALLY came down. Still, I was enjoying myself - I was pretty well protected from cold, and except for my socks getting soaked within the first 2 minutes, I was pretty comfortable. I tried sticking to around a 90rpm cadence, as always, and just enjoyed the ride. But, it was lonely out there - I didn't see another person on the course at all. Then, around mile 7, Todd came flying by on my left side and shouted some well wishes as he cruised ahead.

I wasn't racing against Todd, even though we were in the same lane and heat - I'm not opposed to the competition of it, but it wasn't my reason for being out there yesterday, I'm in no condition to have a competitive attidude just now, and he has goals for the season that I'm trying, wherever possible, to help him with - not get in the way of by battling against. So I was genuinely glad to see he was looking strong on the bike, and even in the crappy race conditions seemed to have a positive attitude and was looking solid. Still, having him suddenly in front of me gave me a new angle of concentration, and I deterimined to stay with him. I hung about 200 yards behind him most of the rest of the 13 miles, and we were the only two out there. It was a blast. I tried to make a move to catch him once or twice, and knew I was pushing hard...and would ultimately pay for it on the run...but I didn't care. I was having a blast. At one point I looked down and we were flying slightly downhill, wind at our backs, in pouring rain, at around 32 mph. That was some crazy exhilaration.

I cruised into T2 just behind him, in 38:25 - an average of 20.3mph. Last year I'd already had an 80 miler in the bank by the time this race rolled around, and it showed; I was 36:08 last year. More than 2 minutes slower, and I attribute that to me, not the weather - last year the wind was really similar, and I don't think the rain affected me much.

In T2 Todd said he was freezing, and I think his cold fingers meant he was taking a long time getting his Garmin 305 off his handlebars. I know Todd's naturally a faster runner than I am, even when I'm in peak condition, so I told him I didn't think I could hang with him on the run and that he'd have to walk some to keep up with me. It was pretty cool that to this point we were really running neck and neck - again, not for the competition of it, but for the shared experience. I've never raced with a friend before, and it was fun to be so close together and be able to share a word here or there. And because it's such a small, early race, nobody was so game-face that we couldn't share a laugh now and then. I was really having fun.

I left Todd behind me in T2 and headed out on the run. It occurred to me then that this was my first brick workout of the year, and I felt like a total hack. My legs were jelly underneath me, and it took me a long time to get into a sensible rhythm, though I never was comfortable on the run. About half a mile in Todd flew by me looking really strong, and we shouted words of encouragement as he settled in in front of me. I tried to let him pace me for a bit, but after maybe a quarter mile I couldn't sustain - he was flying, and looking really strong. I resolved just to run as fast and hard as I could for these 3 miles. On the out and back at the 1.5 mile mark Todd passed me coming back, and I told him to finish fast and strong - he looked great. Relaxed and breezy. I felt like I was struggling to keep my pace, but that's to be expected with the limited training I've had, especially no brick workouts. I finished with a 7:51/mile pace in 23:33 - far faster than I think I had a right to with my crap training - almost a full minute slower than last year, and :20/mile slower. I finished the race in 1:15:43, more than 5 minutes slower than last year's 1:10:22.

I keep bringing up last year's numbers not because I was competing with those times, but because I think that's what I got most out of this race - the difference between the well-conditioned version of me, and the not-nearly-so version that I am right now. And as I've said - that's okay. I understand that my life this year is different than last year, that every year for me can't be an Ironman year, and I'm not beating myself up about anything. In fact, I find it really really useful - you wonder sometimes, when you're out there working so hard, just what it means. Just what it's doing for you. Just how tangible the conditioning is. This is really the first time that I can look at the numbers and say - the difference, at least in a sprint - is 5 whopping minutes. That's pretty huge, and good motivation, I think, for consistency.

So, that's it - the first race, in the books. Like I said, I hope it can kickstart a more consistent early summer for me now, but I expect all my races this year will be a bit like this one - slower, more relaxed, less intense, and a few minutes different. S'okay. I think, with baby on the way, that '07 and '08 will be different years for me now, as I'll become a different triathlete, with different priorities. And that'll be part of my continued learning experience - how to figure out how to be all the things I like to be, and that it's important to me that I be. You know?

Big shout out to Todd, who had just a great race, even with the extra lap they made him swim. His run pace was absurd - 6:49/mile, and he finished the race in 1:12:40 - think maybe 1:12:00 or even 1:11:45 or so without that weird lap. He looked strong and relaxed throughout, and with Olympic distances coming up later this summer - his first time at that distance - I think he had a great beginning. Well done dude, and thanks for racing with me. I had a blast.

Becoming Irondad

The greatest of all adventures is underway.

The ultimate of endurance events.

I'm finally telling you this Thing, So Much Larger Than Any, that has also contributed to the craziest (and greatest) springtime ever. It's been awkward to not interject it into the midst of the hows and whys.

We're having a baby.

Much more to come.

Life


is


so


so


sweet.