Running With, Within Myself

After talking about my inspirational and fun training partners and how much I look forward to our group training sessions, I flaked this morning because I needed a little more sleep.

(It's amazing what how one glass of wine can affect me with all this working out!)

So, I ended up doing my long run alone, all two hours and 20 minutes of it. The course: Nike run at Mulholland Drive and Encino Hills Road.

That's a lot of time to spend by yourself a couple days after a break-up, even if you've got a sweet iPod workout mix (which, I do, thank you very much).

I noticed two parallel paths on this run, the goal of staying within zone 3 on the heart rate even on hills (no more than 154 bpm), and my ability to have a one-track mind analyzing this failed relationship.

When you run by yourself, you can sometimes be your own worst training partner. "What if...?" "Why did I...?" "Why didn't she...?" "Why couldn't they...?"

Why, why, why. It doesn't matter that it doesn't matter, the questions persist.

Meanwhile, calmly, analytically, I'm scanning my heart rate watch. Ensuring I keep my pulse in check. Doing so clinically, as if I'm two different people. The athlete: Steely. Resolute. Focused. The man: Sad. Remorseful. Dazed.

It's a bizarre feeling straddling both sides of my persona. Ironic, I suppose, that my recovery is literally in motion. Step-by-step. Hill-by-hill. And when I can't run any more, just like in life, I stop, take a break, gather myself, breathe...and start running again.

***

Today was a "me" day in other ways. It was my last day off before returning to work tomorrow. This break went by so fast, for obvious reasons and because I did actually enjoy most of it. But the holiday break needed to be sent off in style. So, after breakfast at my favorite local spot (Jinky's) and a relaxing yoga session at Black Dog (except for the farter next to me...namanasty!), I went wild. How did I celebrate?

Wait for it...

An hour massage. Impressed? Yeah, I thought so.

There is a lot to be said for getting a massage when you're stressed out, worn down and beat up. I didn't realize how much I needed that massage until I could barely get off the table at the end.

For those of you who are local to Sherman Oaks, Massage Envy on Ventura Boulevard at Cedros Street is the real deal. Ask for Brianna.

And now, after dinner at the Counter with my family and visiting some friends in Santa Monica, I'm settling in for the night.

Exhausted.

Wondering how tomorrow will turn out.

325 days and counting.

Slow and Easy Does It

I felt like I sucked during my bike ride today.

The joy of heart-rate training.

I rode with a group or cyclists associated with Bicycle John's in Agoura. In the past, I kept up fine with them, to the point where I felt almost like I was too fast for the group.

Not today.

The goal was to ride long hills for two hours with less than maximum effort, staying in my saddle most of the time, and keeping my heart rate under 168 bpm.

On the positive side, I was able to handle every one of those challenges. In fact, my heart rate only briefly peaked at 161 going up the Rock Store grade off Kanan Road. Typically, I was around 157, which was pretty good.

The tough part was watching the same group of cyclists whom I've kept up with in the past blow completely by me on their way up the hill. I couldn't help but wonder whether all this training is making me slower. It was hard to swallow, especially on a day where I just wanted to ride hard and blow off some steam.

Then, I swam intervals for an hour after the bike ride concluded.

I wonder how many of those cyclists could have done the same thing.

Then again, maybe I'm the only one crazy enough to even try it!

326 days and counting.

Team Ryan, Minus 1

My Ironman journey so far has been tougher than expected.

It's going to get tougher still.

My now ex-girlfriend and I broke up (again, for those playing along at home) a couple days ago. Not because of the demands associated with Ironman training... it was just one of those relationships whose long, windy road has finally come to an inevitable dead-end. Peacefully. Lovingly. Honestly.

For those who read this blog and didn't realize we had even started dating again, well, we did. Not for very long, but long enough to realize that while the highs were still high, the lows were still just too low. And they were going to persist.

In the words of Forrest Gump, that's all I've gotta say about that.

Fortunately, over the past several weeks and months, I've met a fantastic group of new friends through my triathlon training. I know the grinding schedule of Ironman training will offer stability and structure during a transition period in my life. I also know the mental fortitude that comes with extensive triathlon training will carry me through some difficult moments.

So while I may kvetch about the rigors of Ironman training, it has and will continue to be a saving grace.

Tomorrow is another day. Another ride. Another swim. Another chance to reconnect with cool people with whom I share an already strong bond. A community of supporters. And friends.

I am hurting a little. But I am ready. I feel fortunate about that.

327 days and counting.

Times Change

10 years ago tonight, I was in San Francisco, partying on the beach all night and into the next day. It was among the wildest of nights.

Tonight, 10 years later, I'm at my parents' home. Just them, some family friends, and me. It is among the mildest of nights.

Yet I'm content. It's an interesting measuring stick of where I've been the past decade. Whether it's perspective, experience, wisdom and even some financial security, I've definitely gained a lot. And whether it's the loss of some good friends (Brian and Jason immediately come to mind), a girlfriend (OK, a few) a family member (grandpa), some naivete or innocence, I've definitely lost, too.

I cycled in the wind for a couple hours today with Frank (before I dropped a refrigerator on him helping him move, but that's another story for another time), and this is what I thought about.

What did I learn this past decade? How would I categorize the last 10 years of my life?

After much introspection, I think years 25-35 can be categorized as the decade where I asserted my independence. I found my own voice. I became my own person. I accepted myself for me.

It has been a hard road to find that voice and become this person. I haven't always liked what I've seen. And changing can be a real bitch. But the journey sure as hell has been worth it.

I wonder what the next 10 years will bring? Will triathlons continue to be a centerpiece in my life or a fad, like kart racing, martial arts and tennis? Will I finally settle down with the person I'm supposed to marry? Will I marry at all? Raise a family? Travel the world?

I have no idea.

What I do know is that for the next 11 months, I will train for Ironman Arizona. I will spend an inordinate amount of time in the pool, running on trails, and cycling all over the Southland. And since most of that time will be spent without iPods and much conversation, I will have plenty of time to think. To grow. To learn. To comprehend. To appreciate.

Right now, I need that.

So, I enter 2010 with many more questions than answers.

But I'm excited to see what happens next. What's around the corner. What the next lap will bring. What's on the other side of the hill.

328 days and counting.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

Today between training sessions (swim and run in the misty rain), I went to the Annenberg Space for Photography in Century City for an exhibit of sports photography (which I highly recommend, btw). Two of the greatest sports photographers of our time had their works on display, Walter Iooss and Neil Leifer. You've seen their work. Ali standing over Liston? Leifer. Jordan's signature free-throw line dunk in the '88 Slam Dunk Contest? Iooss. And the list goes on and on.

As I walked past the gallery of the most famous and memorable sports images of the past 50 years, I couldn't help but wonder what would the image look like when I cross the finish line at the Ironman this coming November. Would I have a look of exuberance like Sandy Koufax when he won the final game of the 1963 World Series against the Yankees? Would I look defeated, like one of the grass-stained, mud-soaked NFL players from the 1960s? Would there be a steely look of focus on my face like Jackie Joyner-Kersee from the 1992 Olympics?

Hopefully we won't see a look of tortured anguish like Mary Decker from the 1984 Olympics.

Then, after thinking about all that, I realized something as I walked back to my car. I was thinking when i finish the Ironman. Not if.

329 days and counting.

Ruuuudy...Ruuuudy...Ruuuudy

I fell in love just a little bit more with my favorite movie today.

I was on the trainer for an hour and to kill the time, I called up my DVR list of recorded programs and saw an old friend in the queue.

Rudy.

Perfect.

It was a poignant reminder of a message I will need to keep in my head every day through November 21, 2010: Never give up.

Despite the intensity of the trainer session, highlighted by 30 minutes of HR zone 3 riding in a bigger gear than usual, time flew by. Rudy always gets to me. Yep, I always get weepy at two parts: First, when Rudy shows his dad the acceptance letter to Notre Dame, and second, when Rudy gets knocked on his ass in the Irish football team tryout and then barks at the coaches to give him another shot to bust through the defenders. And does it. Bloodied and battered. But undaunted. Guts and grit personified.

When watching Rudy, I am him, and he is me (bonus points here for the Beatles song and follow-up lyrics). I've had several Rudy-esque experiences over my life, but the most vivid (and closest to the movie) was the one that occurred when I was a member of my ninth grade basketball team. I was cut two years in a row prior on the seventh and eighth grade squads, made the frosh team as the final roster spot but sat on the bench most of the year. However, a small fan club demanding my playing time increase turned into a big fan club, my coach relented a bit, I got more playing time, and bedlam ensued.

To this day, the memories of ninth grade basketball are among the happiest of my life.

The lessons learned from that year are every bit as valuable.

Work hard. Work late. Work early. Put in the time. Dream a little. Enjoy the moment.

Never, ever give up.

Training for the Ironman has been much more than I expected. The commitment, the intensity, the expenses... it's overwhelming. But, this blog (along with the friendships I've made via Valley Coach and the LA Tri Club) has helped me organize my thoughts, keep them in check, learn some perspective, and stay focused on the day-to-day work that goes into becoming an Ironman.

And today, my favorite movie reminded me the most important message of all.

330 days and counting.

Musical Laps

For Hanukkah, I got a waterproof iPod holder and earbuds for the pool.

I used them for the first time today during my afternoon swim. For five minutes.

Let me tell you about about two H20 Audio products, the Amphibx iPod holder and Surge earbuds. First, the Amphibx armband. It wraps around your arm like a kid's floaty. It's bulky and awkward. The more common-sense way to wear it would be on your back, so it doesn't affect your balance with each stroke. But wearing the holder on your back requires an extension wrap. For more money.

Of course. Like all other things in this sport!

Then, you've got the wired earbuds. These are great, when they're not falling out of your ears. So, then you place them inside your swim cap, where they rub. Awesome. And on top of that, the wires can get a little jumbled around your neck or arms during strokes. Brilliant!

Who did the engineering for this product? Did they ever swim a lap in their life?

Folks, there's probably a reason why most people in the pool don't listen to music. Guess I'm learning that the hard way. I'll try it again on the next swim, but so far, definitely two "empty water bottles" for me on the H20 Audio products. Swim with them at your own risk.

Unfortunately, the swim itself was not so hot either. Forty-five minutes of "easy" laps and cadence work felt harder than expected. I was off my normal pace, feeling the effects from soreness over the weekend and a poor night's sleep. Coach Gerardo took the weight training off the schedule for today, which was much appreciated. My fuel tank is low at the moment. I'll try to fit in some gentle yoga later today or tonight to help further revitalize.

Just no music.

331 days and counting.

Quick Post

It's late. I'm sore. I'm tired.

Long day of training today. It started with a frigid 50-mile Valley Coach group ride from Calabasas to Newbury Park and back. It was so cold that I had to stop at a convenience store to pick up a pair of mittens because I couldn't feel my fingers for the first 15 minutes of the ride! I didn't even care they were ladies mittens so long as they were warm. Which they were. The ride featured some decent climbs, and despite my lower heart-rate zone re-calibrations I was able to lead the pack for most of the major ones. Of course, I'm suffering the consequences as we speak, laid up in bed hardly able to move. My quads are shredded. But I loved every minute of it...for one day, I earned the coveted metaphorical polka-dot jersey on my team.

Following the ride (and a quick shower), I high-tailed it over to Black Dog Yoga for a basic flow session. While the stretching helped, the quads and abs work pushed me over the edge. The rest of the day was spent trying to will my body to finish it without keeling over on the spot. Definitely will feel the weekend workouts for the next couple days.

Fortunately, tomorrow is a recovery day, with weights and a light swim being the only activities of the day. I can handle that.

Wish I had more to offer. I'm just too pooped to think of anything clever.

332 days and counting.

Master of My Fate?

I watched Invictus today, in between training sessions. (More on that below.)

Invictus is an average movie but I'd still call it a must-see. Not because of the acting or the story, but because of the message.

And when I say message, I really mean one line of one poem. The poem that bears the movie's name. The line is from Mandela's favorite poem, Invictus. The quote: "Master of my fate... captain of my soul."

That line is deeply inspirational, but I wonder if it's truly attainable.

Everyone wants to captain a piece of your soul, or thinks they have a right to own it. Your family. Your friends. Your co-workers. Your boss. The tax man. And more.

But do they? Who's in charge, really? Whose ship is it? Whose fate?

Are you the captain of your soul or master of your fate? Have you always been? If so, I salute you, because that is hard work. I've had moments in my life where I've exerted that control, including Ironman training. But each of these watershed moments for me came or is coming at a great cost. Even when you win, you lose. Either in relationships, lost time, or letting down someone's expectations.

Yet I don't regret any of it. Not in my Ironman training. Not in other aspects of my life. My only real regret is not being a more steadfast captain of my soul more often.

***

Today's Valley Coach group training kicked my ass. Plain and simple. It started with a 13-mile Boney Mountain trail run (pictured) in Pt. Mugu State Park near Newbury Park. If you're looking for a challenging trail run, this is it. In fact, if you like running hills, this is really it. But the scenery is stunning and ranks high on my list of sights to see in my ever-growing list of "Hidden Awesome in SoCal."

Complicating matters were the new heart rate zones Coach Gerardo re-arranged for me. I wasn't sure how they'd affect my training, but in short, they've slowed me down. Apparently, I was working too hard on my Griffith Park run last week, and this did the trick in keeping me in check. Though the hills made that more difficult and forced me to walk more than I'm used to or comfortable doing. But this is how base training works, so I played along.

Fortunately, no soreness to report during the run. Not as fortunate following the run, and my subsequent swim after the movie (1,450 yards in a shortened 35-minute workout as the pool was closing for the night). I'm sprawled out on the couch writing this, with hardly any energy left to even get up. I'm totally cooked.

Too bad though, because tomorrow calls for a 50-mile group ride and an hour of yoga after.

Master of my fate? Captain of my ship?

While I may be the master, Ironman is the captain. No doubt about that.

333 days and counting.

My X-Mas Tale

Well, my Christmas tale is pretty straightforward. No workout? No problem!

I slept in until 9. Apparently, Trudy and Bam-Bam were feeling benevolent.

I cooked myself breakfast. Yep, I really did. Three eggs and turkey bacon. Ahhh, yeah.

I jumped into Borderlands on Xbox 360. My thoughts? So far, it feels a little like Wild Arms on PlayStation 2 but with much cooler weapons. Art style is kinda cool too with the cel-shading. One might say Borderlands is a cross between Ratchet & Clank (upgradeable outrageous weapons) and Wild Arms (desolate pseudo-steam punk, pseudo-western), if there ever was such a thing. So far, I'm a level 11 hunter. I'm probably going to move onto another game (most likely Halo: ODST at this point) but can't quite put the controller down on Borderlands. I'm a little surprised by that since I'm not a huge RPG guy. But since this is cleverly called an RPS (my initials, and a "role-playing shooter"), I'm a little more patient. Plus, this is probably the most accessible RPG experience I've played in a while. Kudos for that.

After some extra stretching and a soothing hot tub bath, I plopped down to watch the Lakers pathetic performance against the Cavs. Forget the (horrible) referees for a moment, and consider how bad the Lakers' bench looked. Totally outclassed. It's definitely been a concern of mine all season (paging Sasha Vujacic, Josh Powell, etc. ...). And, I think what the Cavs did by playing Ilgauskus and O'Neal at the same time against the Lakers' big lineup was very smart. It took the Lakers out of their game. Something they're not used to seeing, and for one game, that Shaq signing looks like it may pay dividends. IF the Cavs come out of the East. That's a big if.

(By the way, speaking of LeBron and Kobe, have y'all seen those Nike "Most Valuable Puppets" ads? I gotta say, those are among the catchiest and coolest spots I've seen in a long time. They've outdone themselves compared to the Kobe-LeBron spots during last season's playoffs. And the NBA spots with the "defense" hip-hop remixes are strong too. No other sports league is marketed as well as the NBA, and the League has raised the bar further for the likes of sports brand juggernauts like Gatorade and Adidas.)

All in all, today has been a solid day. I haven't left the house (for a change), and I'm refreshed for another week of training, which starts tomorrow with a trail run in Pt. Mugu State Park, Boney Mountain Wilderness. I'm also to swim for an hour after the 13-mile trail course, which will have to occur after I visit with my long-time friend Jeff. We're going to see Invictus. I hope Morgan Freeman doesn't mail in another performance. He's been quite average lately, IMO.

Well, gotta go. The couch is calling to me again.

334 days and counting.

PS: If you haven't already, this LA Times column about a local triathlete couple whose husband has battled back from a coma is inspirational and heartwarming. I definitely recommend taking a few minutes to read it.