Achey Breaky Body

From the neck down, I'm starting to feel better. I broke my fever in the wee hours of the morning -- no, I didn't feel the earthquake -- and my foot has been pain-free for two days now. From the neck up, I'm a mess.  My neck and shoulder muscles are tight to the point that I can't look past 90 degrees on either side.  My throat feels like it's embedded with glass shards that tear at anything approaching solid food.  I know because I couldn't take soup anymore today (after two pints from Canter's and one large serving from Dupar's) and ventured out for a Subway sandwich and later on, a burger.  Caloric intake temporarily overtook sensibility.

I spoke with Coach Gerardo late this evening to get a sense of my chances for the LA Marathon.  He still thinks this sort of thing is very normal and explained why.  Apparently when the taper phase occurs shortly before an important race, the body is tricked into thinking that it's OK to shut down and repair itself.  Therefore, your immune system is more susceptible to illness.  Further, pre-race illness is a symptom of the beginning phases of over-training.  Those factors, coupled with my trip to San Francisco and attending a convention contributed to my downfall.

It makes so much sense, but that doesn't make this any less frustrating. I've worked too hard to come this far and be denied a kick-ass marathon.  Won't.  Happen. Period.

One positive indication of my recovery came via an hour of yoga from home using a DVD that Stephanie loaned.  Yesterday, I didn't have an ounce of energy to even move around the house.  Today was different.  Better.  Progress.  Once again, solitary yoga turned out to be so much more productive than a group session.  I was able to focus on purely nasal breathing the entire time, along with focusing exclusively on form and not what others in the class were doing and how they looked by comparison.  Despite my kvetching about my neck, all other body parts seem to be getting back to normal.  That is encouraging.  And with my massage tomorrow with Abby, I'm hopeful she can push me over the top.

We'll see how tomorrow goes.  For now, it's time to get some more rest.  Apparently 12 hours and an hour nap today weren't enough.

252 days and counting.

A Tale of Two Selves

In the sport of triathlon, mental outlook is almost everything. Thanks to a long-time friend and colleague, I was reminded of that this morning -- on Twitter, of all places.

My friend Patrick, responding to my "woe is me!" tweet about being sick before the marathon, replied, "@ryanps74, the @theiornmadman makes this a positive."

Sometimes the most powerful of motivations comes in the simplest of messages.  Not even a full 140 characters!  Though I find it amusing that both people mentioned in the tweet are one person.  How can that be?  It's such an image to me: my normal "ryanps74" self laying on the couch, ill and down for the count, while my alter-ego, "theironmadman" is being summoned to overcome and persevere.  A tug-of-war between two selves.  One dogged and downtrodden, the other energetic and excited.  One defeated, the other indefatigable.

Four months ago, there was only one "me."  Now, apparently there are two.  And perhaps, like a superhero, I can try to summon "theironmadman" not just when competing in a triathlon, but in other aspects of my life.  It honestly had never occurred to me prior to Patrick's tweet.

When I started my Ironman journey, I knew I'd become a better athlete, but I never considered I'd morph into a different person.  It's interesting that others can see the makings of a transformation on the outside while I failed to recognize it occurring from within.

Thank you, Patrick.

Now, I'll shut down for the night.

I've got a fever to beat back.

253 days and counting.

What Cannot Be Measured

The danger of a sport filled with metrics -- pace, heart-rate, watts, splits, cadence, T1/T2, etc. -- is that once you understand the data, it's easier to objectively analyze your true performance. The metrics indicate that I finished sixth in my age group out of 20 for the sprint portion of the 11th Annual Desert Triathlon today, good for top 22% of all males and top 13% overall.

However, my individual pace times tell the real story.  And for two out of the three events, I woefully underperformed.  As you know, my swim T-pace has steadily decreased the past several weeks, to the point of 1:55 per 100 yards.  I was most excited to see how much time I'd shave from my overall finish thanks to my new-found swimming prowess.  Today, for my first open water swim of the year, I swam at a 2:14 pace.  Wow.  Worse yet, for the 14-mile bike portion of the triathlon, my pace was 17 mph.  Are you f-ing kidding me?  Granted, I brought my "beater" bike, the one I use on the trainer at home, since I didn't want to risk crashing in the rain on my prized Colnago.  My Scott Speedster is a veritable tank compared to many of the other tri-bikes I was competing against.  (For the record, it also probably saved my life when I crashed last year!) But still, I wouldn't have expected such a decrease in speed.  No excuses either way.  I pedaled hard, but rode slow.

Fortunately, the run was a different story. I've never run a faster three miles, not by a longshot.  My pace was an astonishing 6:36, which is 21 seconds faster than my previous fastest recorded mile time.

In that regard, I can definitely see my training paying off.  That, and the fact that I'm not remotely sore tonight as I'm sitting on my couch typing.

Still, I can't help but feel a little disappointed in my performance.  I realize it's the first race of the year, and I'm definitely happy I placed so high given this was a competition between two huge Southern California triathlon clubs, Los Angeles and San Diego.  On the other hand, I have a lot of training left to do.  A lot of ground to gain.

I think my biggest lesson learned today was to arrive to the race more prepared.  I missed packet pick-up yesterday due to printing the wrong email from an LA Tri Club dispatch and screwing up the cut-off time.  So, I was a frazzled upon arrival, scrambling to put the appropriate tags and stickers on my bike minutes before needing to meet at the starting point.  This left me little time to warm-up, let alone use the restroom for my ritual pre-race jitters. There's a fine line between being relaxed before a race and being careless and unfocused. Before I knew it, I was at the starting point playing with my goggles when the gun went off unexpectedly (no countdown warning?!) to start the swim.  I wasn't even ready!  Being caught off-guard in a sprint triathlon shotgun swim start is not a good way to place high.  As a result, the rest of the swim I felt like I was playing catch-up.  It wasn't until I was halfway finished with the swim (about the 250 meter point) that I started to hit a comfortable T-pace groove.  And by then it was too late.

Fortunately, the race itself wasn't even the highlight of the day, or the weekend. While the best part of the weekend was sharing the experience with Stephanie, a close second was bonding even more with my Fortius Coaching teammates and Twitter buddies (@fittorrent, @chaibot, @rcmcoach).  What a talented and fun bunch!  Each member of the group brings a healthy attitude and friendly spirit to every practice, meeting, party and event.  It's so much better training with people you care about than slogging through the experience solo.  There were so many memorable moments with them: Saturday night at our pre-race meal, cheering wildly for each other during the rainy, cold race, and partying together afterwards for a three-hour Mexican food feast.

In the end, my teammates and Stephanie made the Desert Tri a special experience. Not the metrics themselves.

Funny that the best thing about a race can be the parts you can't measure.

261 days and counting.

How I Met Your Mother

If you read yesterday's blog, you know I was approaching the Desert Triathlon with a fairly nonchalant attitude. At least the race part. However, I'm more excited about the weekend for a different reason.

For the past few weeks, I've been walking around with a noticeable spring in my step.  My smile has felt bigger, my laugh heartier, my joy practically uncontainable.  It's been hard not to share the news with everyone, but there was a little bit of housekeeping that had to occur first.

Am I talking about buying a new bike or piece of triathlon equipment?  Not even close.

My favorite person in the world, Stephanie, has re-entered my life.  Yes, we are dating again, and yes, we're looking forward to a long life together with plans for an engagement already in progress.

She's also here supporting me at the Desert Tri event.

I couldn't be any happier!

For those of you who have been with me since the blog started, you're probably wondering: "But didn't you spend the past couple months trying to move forward with your life?  I don't get it."

Totally valid point.  The truth is that after a LOT of soul-searching, I realized that there's only so much time you can spend rationalizing or analyzing your life instead of simply appreciating it for what it is and going with the flow.  I also realized that if you want something bad enough, you have to be prepared to defend your choices and accept the consequences -- which I wasn't always able or willing to do in this relationship.  I thought my life was supposed to head in a certain direction but every time either Steph or I tried to move on a different path we always found a way back to each other.

And I'm truly at home now.  At peace.  FINALLY.  With myself, with this choice, with life.  I am filled with gratitude every day for getting to spend the rest of my life with my favorite friend.

The story of Stephanie and me is one that requires several blog posts to even begin to describe. Over the course of this Ironman journey, I'm going to share tales of how we met, some of the struggles along the way, and of course all the fun that's going to follow in the coming months and years.

The first tale has to start with how Steph and I met, which I still chuckle about every time I think about it.  I will save the story for another post next week.

When I first began this blog, I intended it to be a blueprint for my future children to learn how to tackle big goals in their lives.

I never realized it would be an ode to "How I met your mother."

Aren't they going to be lucky.

Race day is 12 hours away, and I couldn't care less.  With Steph being here, I've already won.

262 days and counting.

Upside Down

I've become a hippie. At least my friend Caitlin thinks so.

I tried to protest with her on the phone tonight, but the following are acknowledged facts:

I practice yoga.

I shop at Whole Foods.

I'm in touch with my feelings.

When running, I now prefer the rhythm of my breathing to actual music.

I have vegan products in my condo. (sitting next to leftover steak, so that's kind of a wash...)

I voted for Obama.

This from a kid who grew up in Reagan country, Simi Valley.  Not exactly a liberal stronghold.

The entire reason this discussion occurred was because I successfully executed my first headstand in yoga class tonight, which I proudly shared with Caitlin (an aspiring yoga instructor). My triumph happened in a class with a format I've never tried before: Anasura yoga.  Although I needed a wall to do it, I managed to kick up and hold the headstand pose with my hands interlaced behind my head for support.  It was a bit scary -- I'd like to avoid paralyzing myself if at all possible -- and exhilarating (maybe that was just the sensation of blood rushing to my head) all at the same time.

In the brief few seconds I was able to focus on something besides not toppling down the wall like a busted Jenga puzzle, I realized how different the room looked being upside down.  Lights seemed brighter.  People were harder to distinguish from one another.  That dude in the corner was working out with no shirt on (c'mon man, seriously?).

I also realized this might be the first time in my life where I was truly ecstatic about everything being turned upside down.  (I'm not much of a roller coaster guy.)

Considering the topsy-turvy nature of the past several weeks, this was an especially welcome insight.  In order to see and appreciate the world differently, sometimes we have to shake things up dramatically.  Sometimes we have to turn something on its head, in this case literally, to gain a different vantage point.  Painful as it might be, it's a part of the growing process.

A lesson learned only by extending beyond my comfort zone.  Even if I needed a wall for support.

Don't we all though?

288 days and counting.

50 Posts...What I've Learned Since Day 1

Wow, I just noticed I've made 50 blog posts.

Thinking back, I've learned a lot in a pretty short amount of time. In fact, in the spirit of all the recent late night talk show drama, here's my Top 10 Things I've Learned About Ironman Training So Far:

10) Pack your car key securely in your runner's belt. Or, it may fall out. Like it did today.

9) Keep a spare car key in your glove compartment. Like I didn't today.

8) Slower eventually equals faster. I can especially see improvement on the bike hill climbs.

7) Kiss Saturdays goodbye. 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. equals training.

6) A 9-hour training week (like what I have this week) is now considered easy!

5) Chlorine is not the latest Calvin Klein cologne. It just seems that way.

4) Swimming in the rain is delightful. Running, on the other hand, is not. Cycling is just plain crazy.

3) Triathlon training is expensive. Golf has nothing on this sport!

2) Training with a group like Fortius makes the hours pass quickly.

1) The long hours and sacrifice are totally worth it... I'm an Ironman addict!

***

Set a new personal best today with an approximate 14-mile run (no footpod to confirm though). The Fortius group ran all up and around Griffith Park just hours before the rain hit the Southland. Prior to meeting up with the group, I went on a 30-minute warmup jog and felt tight after yesterday's brick (go figure). Fortunately, teammate David is a sports massage therapist who runs his own practice. He offered to work on my IT bands for a few minutes and it made a huge difference for the remaining two hours, 15 minutes. If you're looking for a good sports massage, I suggest you give David a try. I will again soon.

The run ended uneventfully, until I realized that somewhere along the trail my car key popped out of my running belt holder. Total fail. Fortunately, Coach Gerardo dropped me off at home after breakfast and my buddy TJ brought me back to the car with my spare key. All's well that ends well.

I was then able to drop off some used shoes at Sports Chalet in support of its Soles 4 Souls effort for Haiti earthquake relief. Sports Chalet is accepting used shoe donations through tomorrow, so hurry over there if you have some extra footwear and want to make a difference.

That's it for now. Layin' low and stayin' dry for the rest of the night.

311 days and counting.