With the exception of this post, I don't think I've ever actually called myself a "triathlete." More often than not, I usually say that "I do triathlons."
It's not usually a conscious effort, but it is something I debate internally from time to time. I definitely used to be a swimmer. I used to be a rower. I used to want people to know I was a swimmer or rower and address me as such ("The Esteemed Nicholas Robin Mathers the First, Rower").
Now I don't care. Or, to be honest, I try to avoid being defined as any one thing. Sure, it's partly because of the stigma associated with triathletes. But, the more I think about it, it's because I want to keep my options open.
I like being fit. I like training. I like having an event to use as a goal. I don't NEED it to be an ironman though. Sometimes I need to remind myself of that.
All this rambling might be me having a minor freakout because my hip is bothering me and I've already got this expensive race on the calender 10 months from now. It's probably worth noting that Hannah has made it quite clear that it's okay to walk away from a $500+ event if I don't want to do it. Having "permission" along with the financial means to not worry about that decision is reassuring (not that I'll be throwing away $500 weekly). But I still have anxiety.
Or it could be that I'm closing in on 30 and I'm having a mini identity crisis.
Whatever. I'm excited to get back to training -- even if it's mostly hikes and swimming until I resolve my various stability issues. Somehow I've also been appointed (I might have volunteered) as the key person to get a masters swim program started at the local university. Hopefully we can get something going. It'll be good to train with other folks and not worry that I'm going too fast for my own good or that I'm holding someone else back. The pool has a nice way of leveling everything out -- mostly because everyone is crammed into the same 25-meter box.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Monday, August 24, 2009
Back to basics
This was originally a much more fatalistic-woe-is-me-self-flagellation kind of post. Then I edited it. Now it's just a me-being-grumpy kind of post. If you think it's overly dreary, imagine what it could have been like.
My hip hurts. More accurately, my hip hurts like it did last summer. The summer I trained and raced through some severe hip pain. The summer that led to the fall that led to this past winter where I did no running or cycling for three months.
So, I'm understandably a little frustrated and apprehensive. And I haven't really been doing any substantial training. What I have been doing is trying to figure out why my hip hurts. Here's what I know:
1) I was dumb. I raced a 6mi road race three weeks after LP, with no running between LP and the race. While my hip and knee didn't hurt specifically, I was sore for five days after the race. And I really overloaded my calves.
2) I was dumb x2. I went out for a ride with the local Loop Group. They go hard about 10 minutes into the ride and seemingly don't let up until they're in their cars driving home. I started with one group, got dropped, then got picked up in the back half of the ride by the fastest pack that was doing a longer loop. I blew myself up staying with them for as long as I could, then got dropped again. This was my first ride since LP. I was exhausted for three days. And since this overlapped with #1 above, I was still sore for another day.
3) I'm weak. Towards the end of the spring and the beginning of my build to LP, I was able to move some decent weight on the hip abduction, leg extension and leg curl machines at the gym. And I could do multiple sets of hip bridges and high rep hip abduction exercises using a high-resistance band without too much trouble. Right now, my legs get all wobbly and burny with one set of 10 hip bridges. I'm a little surprised my strength faded so quickly in a few months, but apparently that's what happens.
I'm pretty sure #3 is the problem here. And then #1 and #2 exasperated everything.
Fortunately, I'm aware that for me hip pain preceeds crippling knee pain. I won't spend the fall thinking that my belt is rubbing my hips weird (that was last year).
So, here's what I'm doing:
1) Get my stabilizers consistently stronger. I'm tired of feeling like I'm one run or ride away from ruining my season (a season that hasn't even started yet).
2) No fast running. It's part of the plan I'm supposed to be following (the no fast running part). I should probably follow the plan. Technically I was between plans when I did the race, but that's not much of an excuse.
3) No group rides. I thought I had enough self-control to not get sucked into the kill 'em all mentality. Apparently not.
So, if anyone wonders why I'm being all anti-social or spending stupid amounts of time in the "women's fitness" room at the gym, now you know.
My hip hurts. More accurately, my hip hurts like it did last summer. The summer I trained and raced through some severe hip pain. The summer that led to the fall that led to this past winter where I did no running or cycling for three months.
So, I'm understandably a little frustrated and apprehensive. And I haven't really been doing any substantial training. What I have been doing is trying to figure out why my hip hurts. Here's what I know:
1) I was dumb. I raced a 6mi road race three weeks after LP, with no running between LP and the race. While my hip and knee didn't hurt specifically, I was sore for five days after the race. And I really overloaded my calves.
2) I was dumb x2. I went out for a ride with the local Loop Group. They go hard about 10 minutes into the ride and seemingly don't let up until they're in their cars driving home. I started with one group, got dropped, then got picked up in the back half of the ride by the fastest pack that was doing a longer loop. I blew myself up staying with them for as long as I could, then got dropped again. This was my first ride since LP. I was exhausted for three days. And since this overlapped with #1 above, I was still sore for another day.
3) I'm weak. Towards the end of the spring and the beginning of my build to LP, I was able to move some decent weight on the hip abduction, leg extension and leg curl machines at the gym. And I could do multiple sets of hip bridges and high rep hip abduction exercises using a high-resistance band without too much trouble. Right now, my legs get all wobbly and burny with one set of 10 hip bridges. I'm a little surprised my strength faded so quickly in a few months, but apparently that's what happens.
I'm pretty sure #3 is the problem here. And then #1 and #2 exasperated everything.
Fortunately, I'm aware that for me hip pain preceeds crippling knee pain. I won't spend the fall thinking that my belt is rubbing my hips weird (that was last year).
So, here's what I'm doing:
1) Get my stabilizers consistently stronger. I'm tired of feeling like I'm one run or ride away from ruining my season (a season that hasn't even started yet).
2) No fast running. It's part of the plan I'm supposed to be following (the no fast running part). I should probably follow the plan. Technically I was between plans when I did the race, but that's not much of an excuse.
3) No group rides. I thought I had enough self-control to not get sucked into the kill 'em all mentality. Apparently not.
So, if anyone wonders why I'm being all anti-social or spending stupid amounts of time in the "women's fitness" room at the gym, now you know.
Wednesday, August 12, 2009
Lots of effort, little change
I swam as part of a relay in this past weekend's Wool Capital olympic distace triathlon (1.5k swim, 40k bike, 10k run). Two guys from Goodfellow Air Force Base did the other legs, which was nice, since that means I only needed to show up with goggles and swim suit. I also opted to bring shorts and a shirt, mostly because I didn't want to scare any children after I finished my leg ("Why is that man walking around in his underwear?").
We handidly won, although things might have been different had one of the other teams actually had their mid-30s 10k runner instead of a substitute.
The relays go off with the sub-35 age group racers, so the majority of the fastest athletes are in this bunch. Since I didn't have to worry about the bike or run, I decided to open it up and see what I could do in the swim.
Incidentally, there's not much difference between me going all out and just putting in a steady effort. While the course probably isn't exactly the same (buoys move, etc.), I swam about a minute faster than last year, when I did the entire race and swam with a moderate effort. While I wasn't surprised at that outcome, it's still enlightening to experience first-hand.
Also of note: This is the first time I've raced that a bunch of people were wearing the various "swimskins" that have become all the rage since the last Olympics. The overall winner didn't wear one (he went the Speedo route the whole time, chafing be damned), but the top three fastest swimmers did. I don't know if I would have been as fast as those guys had they not been wearing those suits, but I don't think it would have required as much effort on my part to hang on their feet (which I lost when we started swimming through the earlier waves). They definitely are a device that improves speed in the water. In any event, I'm glad FINA is going to ban themfor pure swimming events. I don't think triathlon will follow FINA's example, but I'm not really bothered about that. If there's one thing triathletes love to do, it's spend money on "free" speed... or, to be more accurate, "expensive" speed.
I wouldn't have been able to hang with the top swimmers for the duration of the entire race, so the fact that they get a minute or so on me in the swim (as opposed to 30 seconds sans-speedsuit) doesn't really matter. And I can still beat the folks that are slower than me, swimskin or not. It just creates more of a margin between the fastest guys and me. Besides, I'm saving my $300+ for something that will improve my bike splits... like a motor.
We handidly won, although things might have been different had one of the other teams actually had their mid-30s 10k runner instead of a substitute.
The relays go off with the sub-35 age group racers, so the majority of the fastest athletes are in this bunch. Since I didn't have to worry about the bike or run, I decided to open it up and see what I could do in the swim.
Incidentally, there's not much difference between me going all out and just putting in a steady effort. While the course probably isn't exactly the same (buoys move, etc.), I swam about a minute faster than last year, when I did the entire race and swam with a moderate effort. While I wasn't surprised at that outcome, it's still enlightening to experience first-hand.
Also of note: This is the first time I've raced that a bunch of people were wearing the various "swimskins" that have become all the rage since the last Olympics. The overall winner didn't wear one (he went the Speedo route the whole time, chafing be damned), but the top three fastest swimmers did. I don't know if I would have been as fast as those guys had they not been wearing those suits, but I don't think it would have required as much effort on my part to hang on their feet (which I lost when we started swimming through the earlier waves). They definitely are a device that improves speed in the water. In any event, I'm glad FINA is going to ban themfor pure swimming events. I don't think triathlon will follow FINA's example, but I'm not really bothered about that. If there's one thing triathletes love to do, it's spend money on "free" speed... or, to be more accurate, "expensive" speed.
I wouldn't have been able to hang with the top swimmers for the duration of the entire race, so the fact that they get a minute or so on me in the swim (as opposed to 30 seconds sans-speedsuit) doesn't really matter. And I can still beat the folks that are slower than me, swimskin or not. It just creates more of a margin between the fastest guys and me. Besides, I'm saving my $300+ for something that will improve my bike splits... like a motor.
Friday, August 07, 2009
Tough day
Some of you already know about Fat Cyclist's wife's passing the other day. I don't remember when I first came across the FC blog, but I'm pretty sure it was before I started my current job (4+ years ago). That's a long time to be deeply interested in someone else's life, especially someone you've never actually met.
When Hannah and I were talking about it last night, we discussed that while we can feel sympathy, it's hard for us to feel empathy -- we haven't been in his situation (and hopefully we won't ever).
In any event, we'll be in Austin for the Livestrong Challenge at the end of October. I'll have a donation link in the sidebar in the next few days if anyone feels inclined to support the Lance Armstrong Foundation. Say what you want about the dude, but his foundation is making a difference.
When Hannah and I were talking about it last night, we discussed that while we can feel sympathy, it's hard for us to feel empathy -- we haven't been in his situation (and hopefully we won't ever).
In any event, we'll be in Austin for the Livestrong Challenge at the end of October. I'll have a donation link in the sidebar in the next few days if anyone feels inclined to support the Lance Armstrong Foundation. Say what you want about the dude, but his foundation is making a difference.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
Nostalgia
I still keep a toe in the rowing world, mostly through friends, although at this point it's probably just my pinky toe. Whenever I go out to lunch with some of my post-collegiate rowing buddies, inevitably the conversation comes back to the current goings-on at our old club, what other old rowing friends are up to (very few of whom are still in the sport), or, most often, reflecting back on how awesome we were, or how awesome we almost were.
This week is the Canadian Henley, without a doubt the best annual rowing race in North America, and a tie with the Head of the Charles for best rowing "event" on the continent. It's also the most competitive club race. The elites are super fast too, but since the best elites are preparing for Worlds/Olympics, are in the middle of their trials or have just finished their trials, there's not much depth in the fastest events.
That doesn't really matter, as Canadian Henley is primarily a junior, under-23 and not-ready-for-primetime/past-your-prime event. There is a competitive field across the board in those categories (technically called Junior, Under-23, Senior), with almost every event requiring heats. The best, most meritocratic, most cut-throat aspect of the race is awards are only given to event winners -- there is no silver or bronze. So, you either win or you don't.
Anyway, I periodically check out a rowing news site and I saw that Canadian Henley is this week. So, I clicked through to the regatta page and looked at the results page. The picture on the page is a winning crew from my old club. I don't know any of these girls (I think they were in elementary school when I last raced), but seeing the picture gave me a little wave of nostalgia.
From there, I was pleased to see the Canadians really have it together. I don't know of any North American rowing event that archives their results as well as Canadian Henley. Certainly not US Nationals. So, since I was feeling nostalgic and all, I looked at my own results from the years I raced there. I was shocked to see the results haven't changed since I raced -- first in the 145lb 8+ and 3rd in the 145lb 4+ in '02 and 3rd again in the 145lb 4+ in '03. I would have thought that, by now, our years of talking about how the events unfolded would have at least moved us into 2nd in one of those two other races. Damn the Canadians and their effective record-keeping.
In a bit of irony, our coxswain in those two years of races ended up rowing in the 145lb 4+ in 2004. And they won. So maybe we should have had him rowing instead of steering and yelling.
Of course, I can take solace in the fact that I'm still part of the reigning champion crew in the 145lb 8+. It's not at all important that they retired the event after 2002.
I'm sure I have a non-watermarked copy of this somewhere, but this is what's still available online (7 years later!). For those that can't tell, I'm the shortest guy there (aside from the coxswain) -- second from the right.
This week is the Canadian Henley, without a doubt the best annual rowing race in North America, and a tie with the Head of the Charles for best rowing "event" on the continent. It's also the most competitive club race. The elites are super fast too, but since the best elites are preparing for Worlds/Olympics, are in the middle of their trials or have just finished their trials, there's not much depth in the fastest events.
That doesn't really matter, as Canadian Henley is primarily a junior, under-23 and not-ready-for-primetime/past-your-prime event. There is a competitive field across the board in those categories (technically called Junior, Under-23, Senior), with almost every event requiring heats. The best, most meritocratic, most cut-throat aspect of the race is awards are only given to event winners -- there is no silver or bronze. So, you either win or you don't.
Anyway, I periodically check out a rowing news site and I saw that Canadian Henley is this week. So, I clicked through to the regatta page and looked at the results page. The picture on the page is a winning crew from my old club. I don't know any of these girls (I think they were in elementary school when I last raced), but seeing the picture gave me a little wave of nostalgia.
From there, I was pleased to see the Canadians really have it together. I don't know of any North American rowing event that archives their results as well as Canadian Henley. Certainly not US Nationals. So, since I was feeling nostalgic and all, I looked at my own results from the years I raced there. I was shocked to see the results haven't changed since I raced -- first in the 145lb 8+ and 3rd in the 145lb 4+ in '02 and 3rd again in the 145lb 4+ in '03. I would have thought that, by now, our years of talking about how the events unfolded would have at least moved us into 2nd in one of those two other races. Damn the Canadians and their effective record-keeping.
In a bit of irony, our coxswain in those two years of races ended up rowing in the 145lb 4+ in 2004. And they won. So maybe we should have had him rowing instead of steering and yelling.
Of course, I can take solace in the fact that I'm still part of the reigning champion crew in the 145lb 8+. It's not at all important that they retired the event after 2002.
I'm sure I have a non-watermarked copy of this somewhere, but this is what's still available online (7 years later!). For those that can't tell, I'm the shortest guy there (aside from the coxswain) -- second from the right.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Number 3
Since most of the folks who read this blog aren't too interested in the gritty details, I'll keep it short.
Ironman Lake Placid went very well for me overall. After a series of injuries earlier this year (all self-inflicted), I was unsure of my true fitness. Now that the event is over, I can easily say I'm far and away much fitter than two years ago.
I made some mistakes during the day that hindered my ability to have a great run, but despite some rough patches, I still pulled out a PR. I knew halfway through the bike that sub-12 hours wasn't going to happen, but that didn't really get me down at all. I did what I could with what I had on the day.
You can see some photos on RDM's site. I might need to go with a crewcut next time, the spastic hair isn't too photogenic. But then again, neither were my facial expressions.
On a revelatory note, Hannah informed me that I'm not very enthusiastic to see my supporters during the run. Up until being told this information, I would have sworn that I stick my hand up and excitedly wave and smile as I run past. In fact, I have a distinct memory of doing so to Hannah and her parents when I came into the Olympic oval for the finish. Hannah's folks corroborated her story that I barely acknowledged them. Clearly there's some neurological disconnect going on here.
Thanks to everyone who came to watch: Hannah, my parents, RDM, JNM, significant others, Hannah's folks, as well as my college friends Trevor and Diana, and, of course, the other 50+ people that were there only for me. Also, thanks to Gordo at Endurance Corner -- I've learned a lot this year and I'm looking forward to what's coming up.
EDIT: Somehow in my early thanking, I left out the two folks that traveled the farthest to watch me: my aunt Robin and uncle Bob. Whoops! I blame the leg cramps on the run for that oversight.
Ironman Lake Placid went very well for me overall. After a series of injuries earlier this year (all self-inflicted), I was unsure of my true fitness. Now that the event is over, I can easily say I'm far and away much fitter than two years ago.
I made some mistakes during the day that hindered my ability to have a great run, but despite some rough patches, I still pulled out a PR. I knew halfway through the bike that sub-12 hours wasn't going to happen, but that didn't really get me down at all. I did what I could with what I had on the day.
You can see some photos on RDM's site. I might need to go with a crewcut next time, the spastic hair isn't too photogenic. But then again, neither were my facial expressions.
On a revelatory note, Hannah informed me that I'm not very enthusiastic to see my supporters during the run. Up until being told this information, I would have sworn that I stick my hand up and excitedly wave and smile as I run past. In fact, I have a distinct memory of doing so to Hannah and her parents when I came into the Olympic oval for the finish. Hannah's folks corroborated her story that I barely acknowledged them. Clearly there's some neurological disconnect going on here.
Thanks to everyone who came to watch: Hannah, my parents, RDM, JNM, significant others, Hannah's folks, as well as my college friends Trevor and Diana, and, of course, the other 50+ people that were there only for me. Also, thanks to Gordo at Endurance Corner -- I've learned a lot this year and I'm looking forward to what's coming up.
EDIT: Somehow in my early thanking, I left out the two folks that traveled the farthest to watch me: my aunt Robin and uncle Bob. Whoops! I blame the leg cramps on the run for that oversight.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
My entourage
Hannah and I fly from San Angelo to Philly via Dallas today. She's hanging out on Thursday in PA and driving up to Lake Placid with her parents on Friday. I plan to be in LP on Thursday in time to register and get that out of the way as early as possible.
Each time I do an ironman, my fan base grows -- I want to say exponentially, but with some simple math, anyone would be deceived into thinking that's not true. So, I'm going to explain it with some complex math. Those of you who aren't professional e-mail writers like me may have trouble following along.
I've created an intricate chart to illustrate my popularity. The x-axis represents the number of ironman races. The y-axis represents those individuals willing to lose a weekend to watch me wear lycra and run around in circles.
An obvious answer to my increased fan base is that my family has grown, what with inlaws and various significant others, most of whom were around before, but clearly deemed me not interesting enough. Or they had work. Or they got suckered in this time around ("Oh, the Adirondacks are so amazing when it's not raining. And the day-long race is unbelievably captivating.").
It then occurred to me that there are a few other attendees that I can appropriate as part of my own loyal crowd. I'll have some friends from college watching the race this year. It's not important that they're actually there to cheer on one of their family's friends; I'm not above Venn-diagramming them into my circle of well-wishers.
And then there are the other people I've met over the years, many of whom are racing. I'll just assume that they're on the course to cheer me on. They couldn't possibly have their own goals (other than to be my supporters). And let's also assume that all of their friends and family are cheering for me, in that they'll be cheering for their own racer, who is, as we've just established, only on the course to support me.
It's not so hard to put that total number north of 50. And, if you take my previous incredibly involved chart and drop in the new numbers...
...you can see that I can easily claim a more than exponential increase in fan base. And that, more than anything, is the reason I do ironman.
Each time I do an ironman, my fan base grows -- I want to say exponentially, but with some simple math, anyone would be deceived into thinking that's not true. So, I'm going to explain it with some complex math. Those of you who aren't professional e-mail writers like me may have trouble following along.
I've created an intricate chart to illustrate my popularity. The x-axis represents the number of ironman races. The y-axis represents those individuals willing to lose a weekend to watch me wear lycra and run around in circles.
An obvious answer to my increased fan base is that my family has grown, what with inlaws and various significant others, most of whom were around before, but clearly deemed me not interesting enough. Or they had work. Or they got suckered in this time around ("Oh, the Adirondacks are so amazing when it's not raining. And the day-long race is unbelievably captivating.").
It then occurred to me that there are a few other attendees that I can appropriate as part of my own loyal crowd. I'll have some friends from college watching the race this year. It's not important that they're actually there to cheer on one of their family's friends; I'm not above Venn-diagramming them into my circle of well-wishers.
And then there are the other people I've met over the years, many of whom are racing. I'll just assume that they're on the course to cheer me on. They couldn't possibly have their own goals (other than to be my supporters). And let's also assume that all of their friends and family are cheering for me, in that they'll be cheering for their own racer, who is, as we've just established, only on the course to support me.
It's not so hard to put that total number north of 50. And, if you take my previous incredibly involved chart and drop in the new numbers...
...you can see that I can easily claim a more than exponential increase in fan base. And that, more than anything, is the reason I do ironman.
Thursday, July 16, 2009
How it's going to go down
I have a race number for Lake Placid: 262. For those interested, you can track me on ironman.com on Sunday, July 26. It should be pretty obvious how to do it once you're on the website.
The weather will probably be pretty cool compared with my current "I'm dying in the Texas heat" standards, so the temperature shouldn't really be a factor. I'm giving it 50/50 odds on if it rains or not. I lost my weather-control wand but I have a new jacket, so I'm not too worried.
Get the job done
My swim will be the easiest long-distance swim I've done. Part of that is because I haven't done the necessary swim training to mix it up with anyone and part of that is because -- after getting roughed up at LP last time -- it's not worth the mental energy getting frustrated. It'll be what it is.
I'm going to have a much quicker transition than my last two IMs. I've got a better wetsuit which shouldn't be too difficult to get off (unlike my last LP race, where I struggled with the top for five minutes and felt like I dislocated my shoulder). I'll probably be wearing my knee warmers under my wetsuit to save time during transition, so if you're there and looking for the dorkiest looking guy coming into the change tent, it'll probably be me -- essentially I'll be wearing capri pants.
I'll put on bike jersey, socks and shoes, put my gels and such in my pockets, roll on my arm warmers and grab my helmet and sunglasses. Depending on the weather, I'll either put on my rain jacket or a wind vest.
The bike is going to be controlled. I'm probably going to get passed by a lot of people. If everything works out, I'll see a bunch of them again in the last half of the marathon. We'll see how my bike fitness falls out. As I mentioned a few weeks ago, I have no real sense of my actual race speed, as I haven't done any race testing. I have done a whole mess of outdoor riding for the first time this year, so I know what efforts I should be putting out. We'll see what happens.
My second transition is going to be quick. I'm doing a full change to running gear as I like to have something to focus on. If it's cold/rainy, I'll still be wearing the arm warmers. High fashion.
The first 18 miles of the run is going to be relaxed -- just rolling along. I'll be walking out of transition and waving at the crowds telling me to get running. Once I start my actual run, I'll be walking for a bit (15-45 seconds) every 10 minutes. If everything is going great, I'll open it up in the last 10k and see what I can do. If everything is going good, I'll maintain pace. If things aren't going so good, I'll do everything I can to keep the wheels from flying off. Whatever happens, I'm going to PR the marathon.
Will I break 12 hours? I don't know. But I'm going to race like I'm going for a personal best, whatever the day brings.
Monday, July 06, 2009
Beards, Battle Scars and Bears
Beards
Since I'm mostly working from home, and don't really have to worry about my professional appearance, I wondered what happens when I don't shave for two weeks (aside from keeping the scraggly bits under control). This:
Despite the quasi-beard and no one to see me, I still make sure to wear a suit to the (home)office every day. Keeps me in the zone.
Battle Scars
The cat has been mixing it up with somebody. The other day I noticed his ear had dried blood on it. And there was a small chunk missing (we originally thought it was just some errant fur). Well, we cleaned him up and his wounds are healing nicely, although now he's the tough cat in the neighborhood.
Since he is a cat, it's virtually impossible to get any clear pictures of his scars (with those cat-like reflexes and all). Here's what you get:
Bears
Hannah and I went up to the Abilene zoo on Friday afternoon. Many of the animals were hiding in the shade, but we did come across a black bear who was very interested in one of the local birds.
Sorry about the picture quality. Everything is via my phone.
Since I'm mostly working from home, and don't really have to worry about my professional appearance, I wondered what happens when I don't shave for two weeks (aside from keeping the scraggly bits under control). This:
Despite the quasi-beard and no one to see me, I still make sure to wear a suit to the (home)office every day. Keeps me in the zone. Battle Scars
The cat has been mixing it up with somebody. The other day I noticed his ear had dried blood on it. And there was a small chunk missing (we originally thought it was just some errant fur). Well, we cleaned him up and his wounds are healing nicely, although now he's the tough cat in the neighborhood.
Since he is a cat, it's virtually impossible to get any clear pictures of his scars (with those cat-like reflexes and all). Here's what you get:
Bears
Hannah and I went up to the Abilene zoo on Friday afternoon. Many of the animals were hiding in the shade, but we did come across a black bear who was very interested in one of the local birds.
Sorry about the picture quality. Everything is via my phone.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Meltdown #2
Yesterday I had my long run scheduled. Even though it's only an hour difference between New Jersey and Texas, I've been having a hard time getting up the hour earlier (mainly because I've been going to bed an hour later).
I found myself unable to get out of bed to do my run in the morning, so I chose to do it in the evening. Since I'm still working on Eastern time, I was out the door by 5 p.m. Central. And that was a mistake.
A mile into my run, I passed an electronic sign at a carwash that read 95 degrees. "That's pretty hot," I thought to myself, as if I didn't realize it was hot without the temperature reading. "This might not go so well."
Things actually weren't so bad for the first 90 minutes, although I had to walk a few of the steeper hills to keep my heart rate from going out of control (yes, contrary to my own belief, there are hills in Texas).
For my longer runs when it's warm, I typically carry two liters of water in a backpack. That started to dry up around the two hour mark. That's also about the same time I noticed I was covered in salt, all my body hair was standing on end and I was feeling a slight chill. A few minutes after that I completely detonated. Walking uphill had my heart rate in the high 140s. My legs ached (and not from the blistering 10 minute per mile pace I had been running). My inner thighs were rubbed raw (no more short shorts for long runs).
I waved at a police car that drove by. He waved back. A minute later, he came by again. And then less than a minute later he came back again. Each time I waved and kept on my way (at this point, I was moving at an aggressive walk). I suppose I couldn't have looked that bad, or else he would have stopped, right? Maybe he thought I was lost. Or maybe he was checking out the short shorts.
In any event, about a mile from home I ducked into a convenience store, bought a 32 ounce Gatorade and trudged most of the way home, before Hannah stopped to pick me up on her way to a work dinner. After I got home I checked a few weather sites and learned the carwash sign was wrong. It was still 101 degrees at 7:30.
That's two big workouts where I completely fell apart in the heat. Maybe I need more water. Or maybe I need some new, trendy gear.
All the cool kids are wearing this these days.
Or maybe I should just wake up early and not train when it's 100+ degrees outside until I'm used to the heat.
I found myself unable to get out of bed to do my run in the morning, so I chose to do it in the evening. Since I'm still working on Eastern time, I was out the door by 5 p.m. Central. And that was a mistake.
A mile into my run, I passed an electronic sign at a carwash that read 95 degrees. "That's pretty hot," I thought to myself, as if I didn't realize it was hot without the temperature reading. "This might not go so well."
Things actually weren't so bad for the first 90 minutes, although I had to walk a few of the steeper hills to keep my heart rate from going out of control (yes, contrary to my own belief, there are hills in Texas).
For my longer runs when it's warm, I typically carry two liters of water in a backpack. That started to dry up around the two hour mark. That's also about the same time I noticed I was covered in salt, all my body hair was standing on end and I was feeling a slight chill. A few minutes after that I completely detonated. Walking uphill had my heart rate in the high 140s. My legs ached (and not from the blistering 10 minute per mile pace I had been running). My inner thighs were rubbed raw (no more short shorts for long runs).
I waved at a police car that drove by. He waved back. A minute later, he came by again. And then less than a minute later he came back again. Each time I waved and kept on my way (at this point, I was moving at an aggressive walk). I suppose I couldn't have looked that bad, or else he would have stopped, right? Maybe he thought I was lost. Or maybe he was checking out the short shorts.
In any event, about a mile from home I ducked into a convenience store, bought a 32 ounce Gatorade and trudged most of the way home, before Hannah stopped to pick me up on her way to a work dinner. After I got home I checked a few weather sites and learned the carwash sign was wrong. It was still 101 degrees at 7:30.
That's two big workouts where I completely fell apart in the heat. Maybe I need more water. Or maybe I need some new, trendy gear.
Or maybe I should just wake up early and not train when it's 100+ degrees outside until I'm used to the heat.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Implosion
Now that I'm more or less set up down in San Angelo permanently (for those that didn't know that... surprise!), the weather gods have decided to mess around with me. My last few trips down to Texas from NJ were leaving warm weather and coming in to warm weather. In some instances, it was actually cooler in Texas than in the northeast.
As anyone from the north knows now, the mid-atlantic region has recently been trying to one-up the northwest for the soggiest coast award. Temperatures have been consistently in the low 60s in NJ. So, that's two weeks of very mild temperatures.
Imagine my relief upon returning from my horrible long ride yesterday to learn that it was 96 degrees -- that gave me an easy excuse (actual or imagined) for blowing up (figuratively, not actual) three hours into the ride.
And for those that don't know, it's also incredibly windy in west Texas. At one point, after driving myself into a headwind for 30 minutes and not really moving anywhere, I decided to turn around. After spinning, just by picking my feet off the ground I was carried along at 6 mph. I'm not sure how strong that means the wind was blowing, but I assume it was strong.
So, Texas greeted my official move with a kick in the pants.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Where's the humor?
I think I used to write a pretty clever blog. But lately, it's been sort of mopey. Or, at best, boringly factual.
There are some changes coming my way that should turn that around. Ironman Lake Placid being just one of them. The Adirondacks in general and LP specifically are a powerful place for me. Going there should lighten my mood, if only because everyone else is so intense (or pretends to be intense -- and we all know the importance of intensity in a day-long race).
That faux-intensity manifests itself in some strange ways. If you go to any triathlon, but especially an ironman, you're bound to see some of the most condescending bumper stickers or t-shirts around. I don't know what it is about triathletes, but the sport isn't short on egoism or self-importance.
These are two of my favorites, and are a good representation of the field.
Because nothing defines "excellence" like half-assing three different sports instead of committing to speed in one.
On second thought, I just might be too cynical. This last one isn't condescending at all. The sticker is just being exceedingly honest. Most ironman participants really do use the marathon as a cool down -- a 22-mile walk after they blow up on the bike and the first few miles of the run. As such, those with this sticker are genuinely impressed that someone ran an entire 26.2 miles.
There are some changes coming my way that should turn that around. Ironman Lake Placid being just one of them. The Adirondacks in general and LP specifically are a powerful place for me. Going there should lighten my mood, if only because everyone else is so intense (or pretends to be intense -- and we all know the importance of intensity in a day-long race).
That faux-intensity manifests itself in some strange ways. If you go to any triathlon, but especially an ironman, you're bound to see some of the most condescending bumper stickers or t-shirts around. I don't know what it is about triathletes, but the sport isn't short on egoism or self-importance.
These are two of my favorites, and are a good representation of the field.
Because nothing defines "excellence" like half-assing three different sports instead of committing to speed in one.
On second thought, I just might be too cynical. This last one isn't condescending at all. The sticker is just being exceedingly honest. Most ironman participants really do use the marathon as a cool down -- a 22-mile walk after they blow up on the bike and the first few miles of the run. As such, those with this sticker are genuinely impressed that someone ran an entire 26.2 miles.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Expectations
I wrote this last Thursday. It's interesting what a week's reflection will do. Incidentally, I'm no longer worried about having a herniated disc. It's just my hips (always the hips!). Shouldn't be anything some diligent stretching won't take care of.
------------
I had decided a while back that I would only attempt another ironman if I felt my fitness was such that, in a year's time, I'd be able to put myself in a position to go sub-12. In the summer of '08, I felt I was fit enough to do that between '08-'09.
Then I got injured (IT band). Then I got injured again (rotator cuff). And now I'm a little nervous that I have a herniated disc. I've only had pain in my back twice -- both times after my longest runs and both times using a Nathan hydration vest. I need to do a very long run without the vest to find out. Of course, I'm writing this a day after my longest run this season and my back is killing me. So I'm not in any huge rush to go test things any time soon.
I'm not so sure that the sub-12 goal is going to happen this year. It's not really just my injuries/lost training time (although that doesn't help). Mostly, it's that my training results aren't matching up with what it would take to go sub-12. I used to think that you can rise above your training efforts, peak with a good taper and pop out a lifetime best performance.
After training under the Endurance Corner program, I realize that's not actually the case for ultra-distance events. Sure, for a shorter race (even including a marathon), there's the ability to transcend what you've regularly put out in training. But the transcendence in an ironman is really about pulling everything together in one day. Right now, the individual components aren't fast enough -- I won't get magically faster when I'm 10 hours into my day.
Do I still believe sub-12 can happen? Yes. But I'm basing that on the fact that I'm consistently throwing down workouts that I couldn't even comprehend two years ago. I'm also counting on the crappy chip-seal road surface in Texas slowing me down at least a mile per hour and that there will be a "magical" difference in Lake Placid. Here's hoping...
------------
I had decided a while back that I would only attempt another ironman if I felt my fitness was such that, in a year's time, I'd be able to put myself in a position to go sub-12. In the summer of '08, I felt I was fit enough to do that between '08-'09.
Then I got injured (IT band). Then I got injured again (rotator cuff). And now I'm a little nervous that I have a herniated disc. I've only had pain in my back twice -- both times after my longest runs and both times using a Nathan hydration vest. I need to do a very long run without the vest to find out. Of course, I'm writing this a day after my longest run this season and my back is killing me. So I'm not in any huge rush to go test things any time soon.
I'm not so sure that the sub-12 goal is going to happen this year. It's not really just my injuries/lost training time (although that doesn't help). Mostly, it's that my training results aren't matching up with what it would take to go sub-12. I used to think that you can rise above your training efforts, peak with a good taper and pop out a lifetime best performance.
After training under the Endurance Corner program, I realize that's not actually the case for ultra-distance events. Sure, for a shorter race (even including a marathon), there's the ability to transcend what you've regularly put out in training. But the transcendence in an ironman is really about pulling everything together in one day. Right now, the individual components aren't fast enough -- I won't get magically faster when I'm 10 hours into my day.
Do I still believe sub-12 can happen? Yes. But I'm basing that on the fact that I'm consistently throwing down workouts that I couldn't even comprehend two years ago. I'm also counting on the crappy chip-seal road surface in Texas slowing me down at least a mile per hour and that there will be a "magical" difference in Lake Placid. Here's hoping...
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Good Samaritans
This past weekend RDM and I visited our folks in Ocean City, NJ. They've had a place down there for a little while now, but this was the first time I had been down to see it.
On Sunday, I set out for a long ride. I had a pretty good route mapped out on mostly county roads with wide shoulders. As I was about to leave in the morning I decided to grab my windbreaker since it was a little cool and I'm awful in the cold. I figured I'd be taking it off once I got off the island and away from the early morning ocean breeze.
Needless to say, the jacket never came off. About an hour into the ride it started drizzling. "That's odd," I thought, "It's not supposed to rain today." Of course, that's when it started raining harder.
I rolled into the town of Woodbine and, with the wet roads, picked up a piece of glass in my front tire. In the time I stopped to change the tube, the rain had turned into a full on downpour.
I was all proud of myself for changing the tire in less than three minutes, but then I started the arduous process of filling that tire using my mini-pump. If you've ever used one of those pumps, you know what I'm talking about. Ten minutes later I figured I was around 80psi, which was good enough for me to get moving again, as I was completely soaked through.
I opted to head back to OC, still 75-90 minutes away rather than continue on. I only had one more spare tube and with the roads filled with grit and glass, I didn't want to take the chance of being even farther away if I needed to call for a ride.
Needless to say, about 20 minutes into the trip back I got another flat, this time in my rear tire. The plan at that point was to change the tire and get moving. If I got another flat, I'd have to call for help.
As luck would have it, a car pulled up ride after I pulled the wheel off my bike. Two cyclists hopped out and asked if I wanted a ride. It didn't take much internal debate for me to agree. 20 minutes later I was back at my parents' place.
So what lessons did I learn? Not too many actually. I've ridden in the rain before. I've changed flats before. I had enough spares and a patch kit. I had some cash. I had a cell phone. There wasn't much I would or could have done differently. And despite the cruddy weather, I still had a good time. My only regret was that I had to turn back early and had to finish the ride on my trainer later that evening.
The only things I could really take away are:
I didn't have a rain coat. Between watching Ironman Lake Placid last year and this past weekend, I've decided to pick up a good lightweight jacket. In fact, I already ordered it.
I didn't have my blinky light. That's not really a big deal, but it was kind of dumb of me. I had brought a light with me to OC, but decided to leave it behind. If I was going to leave one thing behind, I'm glad it was the light and not the windbreaker. That said, I could have easily brought both.
Filling a tire with a mini-pump is awful. I knew this already, but had forgotten.
I realize this little story probably wasn't very interesting. But if anyone asks why I'm bringing a rain coat or CO2 tire fillers on all of my spring rides in the northeast from now on, here's my rationale.
On Sunday, I set out for a long ride. I had a pretty good route mapped out on mostly county roads with wide shoulders. As I was about to leave in the morning I decided to grab my windbreaker since it was a little cool and I'm awful in the cold. I figured I'd be taking it off once I got off the island and away from the early morning ocean breeze.
Needless to say, the jacket never came off. About an hour into the ride it started drizzling. "That's odd," I thought, "It's not supposed to rain today." Of course, that's when it started raining harder.
I rolled into the town of Woodbine and, with the wet roads, picked up a piece of glass in my front tire. In the time I stopped to change the tube, the rain had turned into a full on downpour.
I was all proud of myself for changing the tire in less than three minutes, but then I started the arduous process of filling that tire using my mini-pump. If you've ever used one of those pumps, you know what I'm talking about. Ten minutes later I figured I was around 80psi, which was good enough for me to get moving again, as I was completely soaked through.
I opted to head back to OC, still 75-90 minutes away rather than continue on. I only had one more spare tube and with the roads filled with grit and glass, I didn't want to take the chance of being even farther away if I needed to call for a ride.
Needless to say, about 20 minutes into the trip back I got another flat, this time in my rear tire. The plan at that point was to change the tire and get moving. If I got another flat, I'd have to call for help.
As luck would have it, a car pulled up ride after I pulled the wheel off my bike. Two cyclists hopped out and asked if I wanted a ride. It didn't take much internal debate for me to agree. 20 minutes later I was back at my parents' place.
So what lessons did I learn? Not too many actually. I've ridden in the rain before. I've changed flats before. I had enough spares and a patch kit. I had some cash. I had a cell phone. There wasn't much I would or could have done differently. And despite the cruddy weather, I still had a good time. My only regret was that I had to turn back early and had to finish the ride on my trainer later that evening.
The only things I could really take away are:
I didn't have a rain coat. Between watching Ironman Lake Placid last year and this past weekend, I've decided to pick up a good lightweight jacket. In fact, I already ordered it.
I didn't have my blinky light. That's not really a big deal, but it was kind of dumb of me. I had brought a light with me to OC, but decided to leave it behind. If I was going to leave one thing behind, I'm glad it was the light and not the windbreaker. That said, I could have easily brought both.
Filling a tire with a mini-pump is awful. I knew this already, but had forgotten.
I realize this little story probably wasn't very interesting. But if anyone asks why I'm bringing a rain coat or CO2 tire fillers on all of my spring rides in the northeast from now on, here's my rationale.
Thursday, May 28, 2009
Neutral Sodium Diet
I decided that beginning May 1, I was done with fast food. At least for a while. That lasted only a few hours.
On May 2, I again decided that I was done with fast food and have surprisingly been successful so far.
There were a few reasons why I wanted to change the diet. Most of them are the standard: save some money, eat better/real food, etc. I also finished reading "The Omnivores Dilemma" -- you try reading that and see if you want to eat any mass-produced beef. Or mass-produced anything.
All those reasons are well and good, but the tipping point came when I pulled up to Wendy's one evening, and the woman at the drive-thru recognized who I was by my order (and my voice) and asked how my day was going. While I have nothing against friendly fast food servers, I realized I was eating too many of my meals out of a bag.
An interesting side-effect is that for the last 10 days or so, I've been really dehydrated. I couldn't figure out what it was at first, but then I thought of all the sodium I dropped from my diet cold turkey. I've just started to get back to balance and no longer feel like I need to drink tons of water in a day.
Is this interesting? I'm not sure. But I'm curious how long I can keep it up. Ideally at least through the ironman. Then we'll see what junk my subconscious wants to use to refill the fat stores.
On May 2, I again decided that I was done with fast food and have surprisingly been successful so far.
There were a few reasons why I wanted to change the diet. Most of them are the standard: save some money, eat better/real food, etc. I also finished reading "The Omnivores Dilemma" -- you try reading that and see if you want to eat any mass-produced beef. Or mass-produced anything.
All those reasons are well and good, but the tipping point came when I pulled up to Wendy's one evening, and the woman at the drive-thru recognized who I was by my order (and my voice) and asked how my day was going. While I have nothing against friendly fast food servers, I realized I was eating too many of my meals out of a bag.
An interesting side-effect is that for the last 10 days or so, I've been really dehydrated. I couldn't figure out what it was at first, but then I thought of all the sodium I dropped from my diet cold turkey. I've just started to get back to balance and no longer feel like I need to drink tons of water in a day.
Is this interesting? I'm not sure. But I'm curious how long I can keep it up. Ideally at least through the ironman. Then we'll see what junk my subconscious wants to use to refill the fat stores.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Change
As I'm sure you've heard, spring is a time of change. I expect I'll have some news to share in a few days, but in the meantime, here are some of the changes happening in our backyard. What once was a barren expanse of dying or dead grass is now a veritable forest. Or, rather, an unveritable forest.
Okay, we have three new trees. But that's three more than before. And with great trees comes great responsibility. Like watering and stuff. And doing something with the rest of the yard so that they're not lonely.
Okay, we have three new trees. But that's three more than before. And with great trees comes great responsibility. Like watering and stuff. And doing something with the rest of the yard so that they're not lonely.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Belated Grand Canyon post
I realize I'm a little behind in getting my recap posted from my family's Grand Canyon trip, but hopefully the sheer volume of pictures below will make up for it. We had a good walk from the rim, down to the river, and back up. We left just before sunrise, but 20 minutes in it already started to warm up. In hindsight, I could have gotten by with a lot fewer clothes -- probably just a t-shirt and pullover or windbreaker. It would have been a little chilly in the beginning, but, since I spend the entire trip from the river back to the rim in shorts and a t-shirt, the extra three layers were unnecessary.
Some of these photos are from the day after the hike when I got up early and walked to the rim to see the sunrise, so this isn't exactly a chronological photo tour.
My dad and JNM on the way down. 
The very bold squirrel that was trying to get in our packs at the river. I didn't zoom in for this photo, I just leaned in close. He was very bold.
Seemingly, I was the only one to bother taking photos on the way up.
It's a good place.
Friday, May 08, 2009
Save your money
"The value in money lies in its capacity to support personal freedom -- possessions, by their nature, restrict freedom and promote attachment." - G. Byrn
The last time I went out with RDM a few weekends back, I went on a rant about saving money. It's one of my frequent/favorite topics of discussion with him and I know he's probably sick of it... so I'll broaden my audience and sicken all of you.
Like many companies in my industry, my employer recently went through a mass culling. Now, a lot of my work friends no longer have the "work" identifier. What's freaky is the number the people I've spoken with who are terrified of losing their homes because they won't be able to cover their mortgages, even with a decent severance package.
I was lucky in that in my first job out of school, my company went through a bad patch and cut salaries to 70%. I was living close to hand-to-mouth at the time (or so I thought) and as a result, couldn't afford my rent. Fortunately, I was able to move back in with my folks for a few months until I found a few roommates to share an apartment. That was the last time I ever wanted to be in a position of having no emergency savings. It takes a while for anemic bank accounts to grow, but it's possible for everyone to get there. You just might have to cut out some of the unnecessary things (TV, bar nights, restaurants).
My luck was that I learned that lesson at a fairly young age, at a time when I had no significant responsibilities (it's debatable if I even have any now...). I can't imagine being in my 40s with two kids and a mortgage to handle and not having learned the lesson already.
I place a tremendous value on money. But, the value is security, not its ability to be exchanged for stuff. I'm far from financially independent, but I'm not as worried as a lot of other people.
I don't have much attachment to the stuff that I own, with the exception of a few gifts and photos. Yes, I like gear (shoes? bags? bikes?), but I'm also okay with losing almost all of it. Everything is replaceable if I need it, and if I don't need it (shoes? bags? bikes?), then I'm not bothered about replacing it if something happens.
If I had a kid, the one lesson I know I'd teach him or her (probably right around the same time as toilet-training): "Save at least 10% of everything you earn. If at the end you have some left, you can always give it away when you die. And get a college rowing shell named after you. Because nothing says, 'he saved his money' more than a bunch of preppy kids rowing a piece of carbon fiber with your name on it."
I might omit all but the first sentence. I'm still perfecting the speech. I've tested it on the cat, but he doesn't follow my advice, which is why he has no savings and is a complete freeloader.
The last time I went out with RDM a few weekends back, I went on a rant about saving money. It's one of my frequent/favorite topics of discussion with him and I know he's probably sick of it... so I'll broaden my audience and sicken all of you.
Like many companies in my industry, my employer recently went through a mass culling. Now, a lot of my work friends no longer have the "work" identifier. What's freaky is the number the people I've spoken with who are terrified of losing their homes because they won't be able to cover their mortgages, even with a decent severance package.
I was lucky in that in my first job out of school, my company went through a bad patch and cut salaries to 70%. I was living close to hand-to-mouth at the time (or so I thought) and as a result, couldn't afford my rent. Fortunately, I was able to move back in with my folks for a few months until I found a few roommates to share an apartment. That was the last time I ever wanted to be in a position of having no emergency savings. It takes a while for anemic bank accounts to grow, but it's possible for everyone to get there. You just might have to cut out some of the unnecessary things (TV, bar nights, restaurants).
My luck was that I learned that lesson at a fairly young age, at a time when I had no significant responsibilities (it's debatable if I even have any now...). I can't imagine being in my 40s with two kids and a mortgage to handle and not having learned the lesson already.
I place a tremendous value on money. But, the value is security, not its ability to be exchanged for stuff. I'm far from financially independent, but I'm not as worried as a lot of other people.
I don't have much attachment to the stuff that I own, with the exception of a few gifts and photos. Yes, I like gear (shoes? bags? bikes?), but I'm also okay with losing almost all of it. Everything is replaceable if I need it, and if I don't need it (shoes? bags? bikes?), then I'm not bothered about replacing it if something happens.
If I had a kid, the one lesson I know I'd teach him or her (probably right around the same time as toilet-training): "Save at least 10% of everything you earn. If at the end you have some left, you can always give it away when you die. And get a college rowing shell named after you. Because nothing says, 'he saved his money' more than a bunch of preppy kids rowing a piece of carbon fiber with your name on it."
I might omit all but the first sentence. I'm still perfecting the speech. I've tested it on the cat, but he doesn't follow my advice, which is why he has no savings and is a complete freeloader.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
England
It's been a crazy few weeks. Between loads of travel and loads of work and loads of changes at work, the blog has fallen by the wayside. Fortunately, my training hasn't completely fallen off; I was able to get through a particularly brutal, hot workout in 93-degree shadeless hills at Harriman State Park on Saturday. I then ran a not-so-fast local 5k on Sunday. I finished, and got $10 off at the nearby New Balance store for my efforts (the fact that I was one of only two people in my age group had nothing to do with it).
So, since I figure I owe pictures from my recent trips, but not much explanation, here's some photos from England. The Grand Canyon post will come soon.
Hannah declined to mention on our customs form that she came in contact with these ponies. If pony flu becomes a pandemic, you know who to blame.
The rest are from some of our walks around the countryside.
Sheep:
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Goodbye my friend(s)
On a sad note, I (deliberately) left my workhorse trail shoes behind in the UK. Over the course of the week, I wore the last of the cushioning and lugs down to nothing. We got some good walks in though. Photos and recap from the trip to come soon.
And while my shoes were sent to the great English rubbish bin in the sky, I successfully managed to (accidentally) bring the key to our B&B room back to the US. So, I left something behind and gained something in return. The circle of life continues.
(Yes, I'm mailing the key back to England).
And while my shoes were sent to the great English rubbish bin in the sky, I successfully managed to (accidentally) bring the key to our B&B room back to the US. So, I left something behind and gained something in return. The circle of life continues.
(Yes, I'm mailing the key back to England).
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