Stick It.

I read a triathlon blog today suggesting I consider why I'm competing in an Ironman. Why?  Because I'll need to recall that answer during the most difficult moments of the race.  When I hit The Wall, what will be my "one thing" that inspires me to fight through and continue? Ironically, I was thinking about that independently during my solo early morning brick workout at Griffith Park (images coming later tonight).  There's a lot to think about 12-18 hours a week without an iPod clouding the brain.

So why am I chasing this dream down?  Is chasing even the right word anymore?  It feels more like a hunt at this point.  A yearlong hunting expedition marked mostly by cagey patience, punctuated by moments of adrenaline-fueled energy bursts.

When I started my training, I really thought the Ironman was a bucket-list checkbox.  Or some project I could point to with pride when I have children.  "See, THIS is how you go after a big goal in life."

Those are nice reasons.  They're surface too.

As I've plunged down the rabbit hole of my psyche these past 10 months, the motivations I've discovered there may be a little darker than initially thought.  I've hinted at it before.  On some level, my Ironman will serve as a giant "Stick it!" to doubters throughout my life.  People whom I've never really forgiven for hurting me.  People who took something from me.  Physically or psychologically.

Garbage I haven't let go of after all these years.

Garbage I need to leave out on the course that day.

The club soccer coach who cut me from the all-star team without explanation or compassion.

"Stick it."

The freshman basketball coach who cut me for two years before sticking me at the end of the bench in ninth grade to stew as a sideshow.

"Stick it."

The neighborhood bully whom I let push me around as a skinny, self-conscious kid.

"Stick it."

The fraternity bros who didn't pick me for the A-list sports teams because I was too small or not fast enough in their eyes.  Or not cool enough.

"Stick it."

The childhood friends whom were always a little bigger (OK, a lot bigger), faster, and stronger.  And who always got the girls.

"Stick it."

The grade school girls who passed me over because I was too this, or not enough that.

"Stick it."

So, yeah.  You wanna know what my line will be at mile 18 in the heat?  When my legs decide to crap out on me?  When my head hurts and I still have another eight miles to run?

I'll think of Karen Takeda.  I'll think of Mr. Dicus.  I'll think of Chad Tosensen (or whatever the hell his name was).  I'll think of all of them.  And the pain.  Both visceral and recalled.  Present and past.

And I'll grit my teeth and keep moving.

Stick it.

That's my one thing.

Find yours.

94 days and counting.

And Now What?

Watching an Ironman in person felt almost as grueling as participating in one.  Or at least a Half-Ironman! You're outside, on your feet, in the sun, for upwards of 15 hours.  Scoping the perfect spot to cheer for your friend or loved one.  Hoping you'll be in the right place at the right moment.  Hoping he or she will acknowledge you.  Just for a few seconds as they run, bike, limp or jog past.  Those moments are the only thing you have to break up a whole lot of waiting.  Then, after hours upon hours, from dawn to dusk, you watch your buddy triumphantly run those last 100 yards to the finish.  Arms raised.  Broad smile.  Sweat pouring.

And then it's over.

I'm not sure who is more bummed that Vineman Full is finished; my friends who completed it, or me.  I was merely a spectator, but I felt -- I feel -- so invested in their success that for hours after my friend Rusty crossed the finish just shy of 13 hours, I found myself wondering one thing:

"And now what?"

"And now what?"

Seriously, after the race it could have been December 26, or January 2.  Massive buildup, a triumphant, sudden conclusion, and then wham!  The clock stops, your Ironman ends, you go to dinner to celebrate, and the day is over.  The next day comes, you celebrate some more, and then it's back to reality.

The rapid finality of my friends' Ironman experiences shocked me.  It drained me.  It taught me.  It's almost unfair because to those who don't know, it's "just" a mind-boggling athletic accomplishment.

There's so much more though!

Nobody can understand all the solitary hours of training unless they do it for themselves. The inconveniences.  The sacrifices.  The physical anguish and mental fatigue.  That's what makes an Ironman special.  That's why I got teary-eyed (again) watching men and women cross the finish line.  Total strangers. The race is the crowning achievement of a challenge few people choose to endure.  The race is the finale.  The culmination.  The validation.  I think it's that knowledge of their struggle that connected me to all the athletes on the course this weekend. I knew what each of them was thinking because I've been there myself. "Just a little bit more." "Damn it I hurt."  "I'm thirsty."  "I want to quit."

But they don't.  They won't.  They can't.  They shuffle forward.  Alone.  With runners and supporters all around them.  Each engulfed in their own narrative.

And all us fans see is that five-second glimpse of our loved ones.  We try to assess their performance in that moment.  How do they look?  What's the pace?  When will they finish?  Did they even see me?  Meanwhile, on the inside, the triathlete is enveloped in self-analysis.  One lap down.  Two laps down.  Need more fluids.  No cramps yet.  Will that blister pop already?

How strange it was this weekend to have lived in both worlds of the Ironman, spectator and participant.  Yet I didn't quite feel immersed in either.  I ran one lap of the marathon course as part of my weekend training and biked part of the course as well.  I avoided the competitors as much as possible to ensure the race officials didn't think I was pacing anyone.  I didn't accept anything from any aid station, despite several volunteers offering.  This wasn't my Ironman.  No thanks.  That's bad karma, as far as I'm concerned.  And, as a spectator, I was gone for hours at a time training on the bike or chatting with other friends.  I didn't sit or stand in one spot in the summer heat, like so many other dedicated fans.  I could take a break.

I was in triathlon purgatory.  I loved it.  I hated it.

At the same time, I learned so much.  First and foremost, I didn't realize how glib I was when I referred to my fiancee and me as Team Schneider because of how dedicated she has been in supporting my journey.  After experiencing what she goes through on race day, I haven't come close to describing how important it is to have that kind of partner.  And how hard it is to be a supporter in this sport.  I'm atoning for that here.  I've also realized that it's not the Ironman that makes Ironmen special.  It's the work that goes into becoming an Ironman.  The work nobody sees. If you don't savor those quiet, exhausting moments, if you don't appreciate the journey itself and every single lonely workout, then the day after an Ironman could become the hollowest of days.

Because "And now what?" is an unanswerable question.  Rather, it's an insatiable appetite.

Maybe that explains why I'm always so damned hungry.

110 days and counting.

IM Training Begins Today

I just received a Facebook note from Coach Gerardo.  He informed me that Ironman training officially begins today. Really?

Um, what have I been doing since last November???  Because that definitely felt like Ironman training!

Seriously though, I get it.  I realize that my Fortius training prepared me for a marathon and a Half-Ironman until this point.  I've built a base that really feels like a mountaintop, and now we're going to erect a new peak from which I'll stand this November.  I can't see that peak right now.  It's obscured by clouds (dreams) and fog (fears).  I'm not even sure I'll see that peak until I'm halfway through the Ironman marathon.  And I don't know if the peak will be scalable at that point in my journey.  My legs didn't have another 13 miles in them at Vineman.

I've been pleasantly surprised by my progress to this point though, so it's safe to say I'm cautiously optimistic.

If we continue with the mountain climbing metaphor, today I left base camp.  This was my first workout since the Vineman Half Ironman.  The hardest part wasn't even the training.  It was the thought of training!  I had quickly grown comfortable sleeping in (as much as that little monster Bam-Bam will allow!) or arising with enough time to catch the final 20km of each Tour de France stage.  And not packing a workout bag every day.  Or cramming my bike in the car.  It's amazing how easy and alluring it is to give up working out or eating right.  The temptation is right in my face.  Not to mention the satisfaction that comes with having completed a Half-Ironman.  I could stop now. Quit while I'm ahead.

If it wasn't for the sense of accountability this blog brings,"retiring" sounds pretty appealing.

But by now, you know me better than that.  I'm no quitter.  And we ain't done yet.  Considering I signed up for my second Ironman before completing my first, we're really just starting.

So, I ran hill sprints tonight in the studio parking lot.  Then I lifted in the gym after.  Dumbell lunges, leg extensions, dumbell squats, dumbell calf-raisers, step-ups and a lot of core work.  Since it was my first day back from a weeklong break, I only used light weights tonight.

I know the heaviest lifting is yet to come.

117 days and counting.

Resting And Loving It

No workout yesterday.  One hour of yoga today. This taper business is really starting to appeal to me!

I'm sleeping in -- well, as much as the little monster upstairs allows me to -- reading, watching sports live when they're actually happening...this is awesome!

One of the weekend's highlights included attending Fortius teammate Mike's Ironman Lake Placid send-off party.  As always, it's great to see everyone when we're not wearing spandex or swim goggles or fuel belts or smell like chlorine.  We shared training stories, watched the Ironman St. George DVD that featured a cameo from Fortius teammate Paul, and put Mike on the spot to talk about the sum of his training and thoughts going into his big race.

Amidst all the jokes I realized that my send-off isn't too far away.  Just over four months now.  Where did all the time go?  If it wasn't for this blog, the whole thing would be a blurry dream that almost doesn't seem real.  And yet I sit here, on my couch in the morning, exalting in my days off from training.  In a few years, I'll likely have kids and long for the moments when I can just train for 2.5 hours because I can.  I try to keep that in mind often, but at this very moment, taking a break just feels really good.  So I'm going with it.

Over the next few days, with a lighter training schedule, I may not have as much to write either.  Instead of forcing it, I may take a break from the blog too.  We'll see.

Besides work, the rest of the day consists of taking my bike in for a pre-race safety check and buying new gloves since I lost one on my brick on Saturday.  I'll squeeze in yoga either during a 5 p.m. session at our work gym or at 7 p.m. at Black Dog (more likely).

That's all I got for now.  Fairly uninspired stuff today, I know.  But, I'm just kind of mellow at the moment.  Resting.

Ahhhhhhhhh.

132 and 131 days and counting.

Spinning Head

Usually, my body is sore and I'm physically spent after a Saturday brick workout. Despite the heat and a nearly three-hour time time trial, it's my brain that hurts the most right now.

Don't worry, mom, I didn't crash!

Following our weekly Fortius group training session, Coach Gerardo led a Vineman 70.3 pre-race preparation discussion with Richard, Ann, Mike, Karen and me.  He's a great resource considering he has completed the Vineman course four times, and Mike has done it before too.

I think my head is spinning even more than my legs did pedaling up Mulholland Drive this morning!

I came home and am blogging almost immediately to capture as much information as possible.  In fact, before the "pretty" form you see here and below, I literally brain-dumped out as much as I could remember.

I'm labeling it as Pre-Race, Transitions and Race for those of you also preparing for other Half-Ironman events -- at Vineman or elsewhere.

Pre-Race

• Bring a second pair of socks
• On Friday, get to the beach by 4 p.m. before it closes.
• Running bag needs to be delivered on Saturday and should contain salt tablets, fuel belt, extra gels and bars, hat, extra sunblock and extra pair of socks.
• Bring bike to packet pick up to bike the run course.

Transitions

• Put baby powder in my shoes and on my feet, along with generous helpings of tri-glide to avoid blistering
• There's apparently a 30% grade coming out of the T1 chute.  Gerardo is suggesting clipping the shoes on the bike to ensure a safer run up the hill and putting on the shoes either while moving on the bike or at the mount point. I'm not sure what I'm going to do about this since I haven't practiced those kinds of transitions.  That's something I need to do in the future.
• Don't fill water in my fuel belt water bottles until the first aid station, where the water will be cold and help me avoid cramping.

Race

• Knock off a little of the pace on the bike to preserve for the run
• Avoid people hosing you down during the run as much as possible.  Keep feet dry.
• If warm out, wear arm coolers under wetsuit during swim.  If not, save for T1.
• Eat breakfast at least 2 hours before your wave time.  Make sure you consume at least 600 calories.  Considering I burned 1,500 calories in just shy of three hours today in 80-something degree heat, I'm surprised it's not even higher.  Then again, we should be eating and drinking throughout the bike ride.
• Red-tinted or clear-tinted sunglasses will be most effective dealing with the sun reflections on the bike at the race.  I have neither. Hmm.  Dark glasses will be the worst.  Those, I have.
• Pace your own race.  Don't get caught up in competing with others.  This is going to be the most difficult thing for me to avoid.  I need to find a way to control my competitive urges.  I'll have to focus on looking at my watch, not others.
• Watch the hills on the bike and don't be over-aggressive on climbing them.  Save your energy for the run.

Overall, the three most important tips are:

• Knock a little off the bike race pace to conserve energy on the run.  Same goes for the swim.  It's better to lose a few minutes in the water and on the bike rather than up to an hour on the run due to dehydration.
• Race nutrition is everything.  I should basically be drinking a full water bottle per hour on the bike, and possibly an added bottle if it's hot.
• Run your own race.  Stay within yourself.  Pacing!  This is not a sprint or Olympic triathlon.  According to Gerardo, a Half-Ironman is the most difficult race to get right when it comes to pacing and proper nutrition.  It's a very fine balance between pushing too much and too little, and the consequences are severe when doing the latter.  Since this is my first Half-Ironman, I'm especially nervous about learning about this point the hard way.

I'm sure I forgot more than I remembered.  But this should help keep me on track during the race.  Not mentioned today but rather during my swim this past Thursday is to focus on flow and not mechanics in the water.  If I can keep my breathing in check, that should help a lot.  I found a real good breathing cadence during my 1,000 yard time trial, which netted me a personal-best 18:27.  My pace per 100 yards is now 1:52, down from 2:05 in the pool when I first started.  This also came less from worrying about my stroke and concentrating more on my breath.  My new swim PR time led Gerardo to predict it should take me roughly 37 minutes to swim 1.2 miles at Vineman.  We'll see how close he is.  So far, every time he's predicted a pace result for me, he's been pretty much right on the nose.

I hope he predicts a 5:30 Half-Ironman!  Though I suspect I'll be in the 6:00-6:30 range depending on the heat.

OK, I'm heading into the final week of Half-Ironman training.  I'm physically ready.  I'm mentally prepared.  The waiting game officially begins tomorrow, during my first weekend non- pre race off-day I can recall since joining Fortius.  I'll spend it with family, watching Le Tour and Spain vs. Netherlands (Espana wins 2-1, btw).  Along with sending Mike off in style for his first Ironman, Lake Placid.

Now, it's time to enjoy the rest of my day and night, which consists of today's Tour stage, burgers and beer with my buddy TJ and Predators.  My kind of night.

And a welcome distraction to take my mind off all these mental checklist items for next week!

133 days and counting.

Ironman and Beyond

Somewhere amidst the craziness of the past few days, I'm still managing to fit in my Ironman training.  Today marked the annual LA Tri Club Wednesday Griffith Park brick, which was a welcome return to normalcy. I think the collective energy spent running around town and balancing the other important aspects of my life are taking a slight toll on me physically this week.  My bike ride was average at best, though to be fair a breezy cross-wind in the hills leading up to the Griffith Observatory slowed me down too.  The first 20 minutes of the ride were especially hard on my legs.  I couldn't tell if that's because I need more time to warm up or if I'm simply a little fatigued. It's probably a combination of both.

I picked it up on the run though, banging out 7:52, 7:38 and 7:24 miles to wrap up the day.  However, as a result of pushing it a bit I may sit out tomorrow evening's track workout depending on how I feel.  It's optional based on Coach Gerardo's schedule so we'll take it as it comes.

Let's focus on the big picture for the moment though.  Earlier today, I mentioned I signed up for my second Ironman Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. (This means I'll need to really remember how to spell this place properly!) June 2011.

Am I nuts!?  I haven't even completed my first Ironman! I have no idea what to expect or if my body can even handle it yet I'm going for it again.  Is that confidence or stupidity?  Both?  One thing it is for certain is an example of healthy peer pressure, as my Fortius buddies Richard and David are signed up as well.

Rationally speaking, the reason I signed up is that I figure I'll be in peak physical condition (knocks on wood) and want to take advantage of that as much as possible while I have the time and ability to stay that way.  Further, Stephanie and I will be married in September 2011 in all likelihood.  Completing my second Ironman at the end of June allows me to enjoy the rest of the summer, focus on wedding planning and generally relax instead of training myself into the ground right before The Big Day.  I envision that I'll still complete a couple Olympic-distance events before the wedding though and maybe one late in October just to keep me honest.  Then, my long-term goal is to focus on one more Ironman the following year, an international event in some exotic location.  After that, I'll likely switch to Half-Ironman events and ease back on the training intensity a little.

Of course, we all know that G-d laughs at those who make plans. Still, I like to hedge my bets. If I can pull it all off, it will be one heck of an adventure.

Actually, it already has been!  I can only hope and dream that the best is still left to come.

Still 136 days and counting.

Wake Up Call

Well, I won't make that mistake again. "That mistake" was misinterpreting Coach Gerardo's directions this morning during the bike portion of our Vineman simulation brick workout.  At the first climb in Hidden Valley on Portrero Road (just shy of Sly Stallone's place), Gerardo indicated that once I got to the crest, I should come immediately back.  I thought he meant the crest of the entire climb, which would have been the peak of Portrero Road before the steep and tricky descent into Camarillo.

In hindsight, I realize how silly this logic was.  But, I was in a cycling groove, hypnotized by a consistent pedal cadence and from riding largely by myself -- though my teammates were nearby.  It's at those moments when I'm truly in a cycling trance.  Not really thinking about anything important, but rather the ride itself.  How I'm feeling, how the ride is going, what's next whether climb, flat or descent.

I had only realized my mistake when I returned from the second Portrero peak and didn't see teammates Jason, Richard or Karen anywhere, let alone Mike's sag vehicle.  It then became a frenzied solo journey back to Las Virgenes Road and Mullholland Drive.  To make matters worse, my cell phone died.  I didn't place it in the usual Ziplock baggie, and I finally paid the ultimate price.  While the phone itself turns on, it resets itself the moment I try to dial a phone number or punch in any key, for that matter.

Finally, after an added nine miles and 20 minutes of pedaling, I rejoined Mike, quickly changed clothes and ran into Malibu Creek State Park for a 6.6 mile workout.  The time was after noon, and this was designed to simulate the expected hot and sunny conditions we'll face at Vineman 70.3 in a couple weeks.  To better combat the elements, I tried a pair of DeSoto arm coolers.  It's hard to say whether they had a physical effect, but my arms were certainly cooler and my heart-rate remained closer to 160 bpm (low zone 4) compared to the upper 160s it had been while training in 90-degree-plus weather in Arizona.  I completed the running loop, which took me through rocks, creeks, scrub, and dust to the base of the Bulldog Trail, in just about 1:05:00.  It wasn't the fastest pace, but it wasn't the easiest terrain.

Like it or not thoughm, I'm about as ready as I'm going to be for a Half-Ironman.  I remember thinking during the run that the discomfort I was feeling at the end of the run is only going to be compounded on race day. Especially since I'd need to bang out another 6.5 miles before finishing, not to mention adding a 1.2 mile swim and nine more miles to my bike ride.

So while the physical aspects of today's training session were valuable, the most valuable aspect by far was the metaphorical splash of cold water on my ego that just because I can fare well in an Olympic distance triathlon...we're about to enter completely new territory.  What I've done in the past does not matter one bit at a Half-Ironman.

Wake up call received.

Just not from my defunct cell phone.

137 days and counting.

Do the Work.

How I'm ending the day is pretty much how I started it.  Tired.  Lethargic.  Ready for bed. At least I can fulfill that desire instead of trudging out for an early morning brick.  Stephanie pretty much had to kick me out of bed this morning, literally.  She did so successfully, with the promises of making me oatmeal.  It helped.  My cycling felt about as slow as oatmeal transfers out from the ceramic bowl to the plastic one.  Please. Just. Go. A. Little. Faster.

For whatever reason, I just didn't sleep well last night.  I was ready to train at 4:30 in the morning, and since Trudy and Bam Bam have been making more regular early morning cameos lately, I figured what's the use of going back to sleep.  So I got caught in that "no doze zone" -- somewhere between being awake and drifting off to sleep.  It took me about a half-hour of cycling to wash the malaise off my body and generate some pedal power.

The run turned out much better.  The breakthrough from last Wednesday's Griffith Park brick with Coach Gerardo and Richard is really paying dividends now.  Despite my general tired state, running at tempo pace (heart-rate zone 3) felt surprisingly easy and relaxing.  My heart-rate never rose past 157 bpm but I was averaging what felt like an 8:30-mile pace -- and it was fairly effortless.  In the past, I would labor a lot more running at tempo.  Granted, I only ran a shade under 4.5 miles in just about 40 minutes.  But I felt like I could run another 4.5 or more at the same pace if not slightly better. Given my groggy frame of mind, I'll more than take it.

I suppose the real victory today was simply getting out of bed and doing the work. That's all you can do sometimes, as I've said before.  It's the difference between coming close to your race day goals and either meeting or exceeding your expectations.  You've got to put in the work, the time, the sweat and the effort -- whether you feel like it or not.

That's really all that today was about.  And at this point countless other training sessions I've written about. It's probably the theme of my Ironman training: Do the work. Period.

Speaking of, it's back to work tomorrow morning. At 6. In the pool.  Track session in the evening too.

Let's do this.

141 days and counting.

Hold On For 1 More Day

My celebration/commemoration of the Breath of Life Triathlon lasted all of 24 hours. Until I received an email from Coach Gerardo indicating that today marks the beginning of my taper towards Vineman 70.3.  And the stern reminder that "everything we have done the past few months is for this race."

As if that wasn't enough to force me to refocus on the race ahead instead of the race I just finished, I received in the mail today another omen: My Vineman 70.3 visor.

Breath of Life is soooooo June 27.

Out with one incredible life experience, on with another.  But something is nagging at me.  Tugging like a kid pulls on his dad's belt buckle for attention.

Where is the journey in all this?  The soul?  Where's the pause for reflection?  Jubilation?  Course correction?  Does it occur in the eight hours while I'm sleeping?  My 10 minutes in the shower each morning?

Being a "nester", I need at least a little bit of time to assess and put everything in its rightful place before moving on to the next project.  In this case, my first Half Ironman distance event.  I'm still busy remembering moments from yesterday's race before I put them in my mental scrapbook. Or in this more technical example, my blog.

Closing my eyes and really feeling the National Anthem, for example. Swaying gently side to side thinking of my grandfather and how proud he'd be if he were there physically in that moment.  Smiling to myself.  My pre-race ritual complete.

These are the moments I want to hold onto.  The moments that make a race an event, not just a training exercise.  The moments that threaten to escape me if I let them.  If I move too quickly from one memory to the next, like a bee anxiously finding the next flower while working herself into exhaustion along the way.  Never enjoying for a moment that hard-earned pollen.

We all train many long hours to achieve our goals.  And then we wake up at 4:30 in the morning, stumble out of bed into the darkness, don our wetsuits as the sun rises, and sprint earnestly into the salty water.

Then, we wish for the pain to end. For the finish line to show itself. Eventually, it complies.

And then the race is over.  The chapter is written.

Meanwhile, while the body recovers, the brain is still trying to figure out what the hell just happened.  At least mine is.  What did I learn?  What will be burned into my memory like a cattle brand?  What excess experience can I quickly snatch from impending forgetfulness?

I suppose what I'm getting at is that retention is part of recovery.  And recovery needs to occur before a new chapter begins.

That's where my head is at right now.  Even if my body is eager to take the next step on this Ironman odyssey.

Even as this Vineman 70.3 visor stares at me on my office desk.

There will be time to wear you soon, M-dot.

But not yet.  Not today.

143 days and counting.

A Special Birthday

It's 6 a.m. on your birthday.  Do you:

A) Smack the clock and go back to sleep

B) Jump in the pool with your training teammates

C) Lock the front door after getting in from a long night of drinking

I went with B) this morning.  And it set the tone for a fantastic birthday.  One of my all-time favorites, in fact.  Though that had little to do with training.  The past couple years, circumstances have prevented Stephanie and I from spending my birthday together.  Today that would change, as it will for hopefully every remaining birthday.  After a Black Dog yoga session that included some inverted wall poses, Steph and I spent the afternoon together, hanging out at Paradise Cove in Malibu and now she's cooking a gourmet feast -- boeuf bourguignon.  I'm a lucky guy!  Make that a VERY lucky guy.

Usually, this is about the time that I devote a few hours to reflect on the past year and think about what I hope to accomplish in the year ahead.  Honestly, I never could have predicted a year ago where my life would be today.  I was reeling from not being with Stephanie and still really just getting my proverbial feet wet in the sport of triathlon.  Now, I'm engaged to the woman I've always loved since before we were dating and I'm training like mad for my first Ironman.  I look and feel like a different person.

What will 36 bring?  Oh, you know, besides a wedding and an Ironman!  Well, in thinking about things, I've grown a lot over the past year.  I think I'm a little more relaxed, a little more confident, a little more competitive.  A lot more grateful.  Perhaps a little wiser.  Maybe even a bit softer around the edges (I hope).  I feel like my own man, though it may have taken a little longer than expected.

Thirty-five was a year of growth and maturation.  I hope 36 brings more of the same, with a killer Ironman Arizona (maybe one more too?) time and a warm, unforgettable wedding.

Is that so much to ask?

Actually, in my renewed state of being, I'll start with a fantastic tomorrow that's unforgettable and productive.  I'll start by encouraging others to be their best, while doing my best too.  One day at a time.  If anything, my Ironman training has taught me that.

162 days and counting.