Ryan's "Bad Boys" Episode

I'm almost afraid to set foot outside my condo this morning, for I have no idea what may lie in store. On Saturday, Stephanie and I experienced what we're referring to as "Weirdest Day Ever."  (This played off what we had called "Best Day Ever" about a year ago on a fantastic date.)

Last night, I nearly experienced "Longest Day Ever" courtesy of the Los Angeles Police Department.

Saturday's drama featured a horror movie plotline as the backdrop.  Yesterday's drama would have been the perfect "Curb Your Enthusiasm" episode.  And it all happened because I was trying to be a nice guy.

The fun started around 6:30 p.m. in the Carl's Jr. parking lot at the intersection of Santa Monica Blvd. and La Brea. I had left work early for two reasons.  First, my cell phone officially died during my brick workout on Monday.  Rest in Peace, oh hard-working Blackberry Pearl.  I'll never forget all the good times we shared.  Second, I was invited to attend a first cut movie screening with a production company at The Lot just off Santa Monica Blvd.

As is so often the case, I was foraging for food before the movie screening when I decided to settle upon Carl's Jr.  The food court across the street would be too complicated to navigate quickly to leave in time for the movie screening.  I ordered a chicken teriyaki sandwich and parked in the lot to scarf it down while reading a Sports Illustrated issue I just bought while purchasing my temporary replacement phone (a no-contract Nokia while my iPhone 4 is on reservation).

Just as I was finishing dinner (if you can call it that), a scruffy-looking man came over and asked me if I could spare any money for food.  Considering I was finishing my meal, the sky was shining, I was in a good mood with some time to kill -- and because I generally do give to those less fortunate when asked -- I provided some cash.

Now is a good moment to acknowledge that  many friends and I are split on this topic.  I know several generous folks who refuse to give money to those on the street.  I completely understand both sides.  My perspective is that it's "just" money and if I am so calloused as not to offer at least a dollar to someone -- regardless of how they use it -- then I've lost a part of my own soul.  My own sense of kindness and compassion.  I imagine what it would be like for me to have to ask someone else for enough change to buy a meal, and that thought alone is usually enough to open my wallet.  It is not my place to play G-d and tell people how to spend their money.  But if I can offer a moment of kindness that doesn't hurt me in the long run, I'm more than OK with that.

Of course,  I nearly had to tell that to the jail warden.

No sooner had I given the man money and started to back out of the parking lot then an LAPD squad car burst into the lot seemingly from nowhere and slammed its brakes directly behind my car.

And when I say "my" car...I mean my dad's car.

Try telling a cop who's pulling you over for what looks like a drug buy that, by the way, this isn't my car.  It's my dad's!

LAPD: "Put up your hands!"

RS: "Why?!  I didn't do anything wrong!"

LAPD: "Get out of the car immediately!  Keep your hand where I can see them!"

RS: "But I didn't do anything!"

LAPD: "Get out of the car NOW!"

I got out of the car.

I still have no idea why I'm being pulled over.

RS: "I gave the guy $5 cash!  That's it!"

LAPD: "Yeah, right.  Gimmee your license."

Meanwhile, I've got one cop with his hand on his gun staring at me while the other checks my record.

It's at this point that I realize A) I have an outstanding ticket that I need to pay. B) I'm being fingered for a drug buy, but am not totally sure. C) I'm not driving my own car.  D) My cell phone is dead -- so if I do get arrested I can't even make a call from my own phone.

Cue "Curb Your Enthusiasm" music.  All over feeling generous and giving a shady-looking dude $5 to get a cheeseburger.

As my record was being checked, I truly thought I had a very good chance to be arrested on suspicion of making a drug buy. I admittedly started to panic because the silent cop next to me wouldn't respond to any of my comments or questions.

RS: "Sir, you can search any part of me and my car.  I have no drugs, if that's what this is about."

RS: "Sir, will you at least tell your partner that the car is registered in my father Mitchell J Schneider's name?"

RS (exasperated): "Look!  I'm a triathlete for G-d's sake...I don't do any drugs!!!"

(Yes, I really said that.)

Finally, the record-checking cop -- the meaner of the two who stood almost two inches shorter than me if that's even possible -- told me I was free to go.  But before doing so, did I understand why I was pulled over?

Of course I did.  But Officer Mean further explained that the Santa Monica/La Brea intersection in particular was notorious for drug activity, and it looked incredibly suspicious for someone to hand something to a homeless guy and quickly pull away from the lot.  I agreed.  Then, Officer Mean told me I "was a better man than he was" for giving anybody anything, as he tells those guys to "pound sand" whenever they get close.

I understand his perspective and think it's equally valid.  In fact, I'm far more tempted to avoid giving money now -- which is sad.  It annoyed me that the person to whom I gave the money didn't even bother to leave the restaurant for just a moment to explain I had simply paid for a meal on his behalf.  I scratch your back, you scratch mine, right?  Wrong!  Of course, I'm not so naive to think the solicitor was completely clean.  Still, he left me hanging, and that situation could have ended a lot worse than it did.

Despite all that, I'm not sure this experience will deter me entirely from sparing some change.  I'd prefer to continue assuming that people are good until proven otherwise.  Shutting myself off to helping others because of one bad episode that lasted no more than 15 minutes doesn't feel right.

Just  please be ready to accept any and all phone calls I may be making to you.  They may be coming from a jail cell! (If my phone is even working.)

136 days and counting.

PS: Yesterday's events completely obscured the real big news of the day: I signed up for Ironman Coeur d'Alene in June 2011!  I'll write more about that later tonight or tomorrow.

Week Done!

This week of training, while not particularly hard, left me slightly gasping for the finish.  Maybe it's the long weekend. Maybe it was waking up before 6:30 a.m. three out five weekdays.  Or that Trudy and Bam-Bam are back to wreak havoc on Stephanie's and my sleeping patterns. The more I think about it, I'm probably just a bit more tired than usual because of the mere 12 hours separating the track and swim workouts from this morning's 1.5-hour bike ride at Griffith Park.  I didn't really push it, but by the end of this morning's ride my legs were definitely glad it was time to call it quits.

I'm scheduled for some yoga now, which I'm going to our work gym to complete.  That'll probably restore and refresh me.  Tomorrow, I have an off-day as Steph and I are back on the wedding  venue scouting trail.  Ojai and Los Olivos are on the docket.

I'm looking for some highlights or superlatives to describe today's workout.  Not much comes to mind at all.  It was one of those rides where you find yourself looking at your watch more for a countdown to finishing as much to see how fast you're going or where your heart rate stands.  I know my calf compression sleeves came in handy and reduced what felt like sore and stiff legs when I woke up this morning.

What can I say...some workouts are just more enjoyable than others.  Then again, it was gorgeous out, without a cloud in the sky.  And in a few years, it will be a real privilege to be able to fit in a pre-work bike ride.  So I file this one away to, Don't Take It For Granted!

139 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.

How Training and Work Balance are Like Lakers-Celtics

So far at E3 this week, my balance between work and training has matched the Lakers-Celtics series.  Round 1 went squarely to training.  Decisively.  Woke up early to spin and fit in a yoga class before two parties Monday night.  Yesterday, training won out too.  Swam at 6 a.m. and still managed to attend two cocktail parties last night. Today, work wins.  Hands down. I thought I'd be able to wake up early to fit my 2.25-hour brick workout in before a packed day at the convention.  No dice.  Six a.m. came and went on my alarm clock.  So did 7.  Right up until 8:30 a.m.  I've got meetings until 4:30 p.m. today so I'm hopeful to bolt immediately after to make the 5:30 p.m. start at Griffith Park.  I've got one cocktail party tonight but it's not urgent I attend.  Worse comes to worse, I'll make this my day off this week and push the brick to Friday, when the show is already over for me.

As for games I want to check out, well, Bulletstorm is at the top of the list. As is Call of Duty: Black Ops. Throw in some Medal of Honor, Dead Space 2 and Killzone 3, and I'm a happy man.

But I'll be even happier if I can still manage to balance work and training effectively.

One lesson I have learned this week is still related to Lakers-Celtics.  I have a better appreciation for not being able to "get up" for certain days of training, just like a basketball team might not have the intensity necessary to win every game in a long series.  Sometimes, fatigue really does trump your best intentions.  That's what happened to me this morning, and like the Lakers, I don't panic or anything.  I just wait for the next opportunity to show up and put in the effort.

That said, the Lakers better f-ing show up tomorrow night.  No excuses.  Especially against Boston.

My prediction?  Lakers by 5. I called the Lakers in 7 at the beginning of the series but almost lost belief when Andrew Bynum got hurt.  But he's shown me a lot by toughing it out despite his terrible knee injury.  It's inspirational as I continue my training.

Now, work wins again.  I have to cut my post short and get ready for a day of meetings. And hopefully a solid workout.

154 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.

Work-Life Balance

Today is one of those moments where I'm so glad I have work-life balance.  When the two intersect and blend harmoniously, life is so much better.  Of course, I only know this to be true after years of emphasizing (OK, over-emphasizing) the "work" part of the equation.  It's only taken me close to 15 years in the workforce before I found a better balance.  Along with one heck of a company that I've called home for 6.5 years now. I was responsible for helping manage a big news announcement from our company this morning.  Normally, this would mean putting my life on hold (possibly for up to a week in advance) to plan and obsess over every detail myself, along with executing and following up.  Fortunately, I have a great group of teammates and have finally taken to heart that my job is no longer to "do" as much as it is to help plan, manage and motivate.  (That's a hard lesson to learn for a competitive guy like me.)  As a result, I was still able to squeeze two quality workouts in -- one before work at 6 a.m. in the pool, and another at 6 p.m. in the gym with the weights.  In between, my team and I worked hard to stay on top of the news cycle.

The pool workout was pretty grueling.  We had a series of sprints between 50 and 100 yards to establish our T-pace for the workout.  Then, we added a few seconds to it and tried to hit a specific time with little rest over the duration of the sets.  It pretty much rocked me.  At the end of the day, I blasted through five sets of three different exercises, with two sets of 15 reps for each.  I was pretty spent after the lifting and about 10-15 minutes of abs work.

In the end, as I sit here with my head spinning after an exciting and exhausting day, I'm thrilled about how everything turned out.  The announcement was a big success, with a potentially delicate situation that I believe we turned into a positive with our fans and the press.  But I'm just as elated about being able to fit in my training without feeling stressed out about either my work or athletic performance.  Neither suffered.  If I can continue to maintain this kind of mental and physical balance over the long haul, I think it can only enhance my overall quality of life.

Which is good, considering Stephanie insists on me living as long as she plans to!

I'm trying, honey.  I'm trying!

176 days and counting.

The Best Training is Sometimes the Slowest

I woke up early this morning for an event.  It even had a starting gun and a finish.

Yet I wasn't racing.  I wasn't even running.

And it was just as much fun.

Stephanie helped organize a small team of her co-workers to attend a walk-a-thon in El Segundo for the Make-A-Wish Foundation.  Instead of my normal training routine, I decided to switch my long bike and run around so I could support her.  Joined by Stephanie's friends Erica and Adam, we had a great time -- even if it was only a two-mile walk.  Actually, it was really nice NOT to launch myself out of the starting area and sprint as fast as I could.  I got to enjoy the scenery a bit more, relax a bit more, chat a bit more.  And maybe even appreciate a bit more.  The whole point of the walk was to raise money for kids who are faced with terminal illness.  The least -- make that the very least -- I can do is flip my schedule around to support the cause.

I'm always grateful for being healthy and strong enough to pursue this crazy sport.  Sometimes I'm even grateful enough to realize how good it is to be merely alive and healthy.  This morning was one of those moments for the latter.

Sometimes the best form of training can come in the slowest of forms.

194 days and counting.

200 Days to Go: What I've Learned So Far

OK, it's 196 days and counting, but I've been thinking about this post for four days now.  That counts for something, right? I've written 159 blog posts, not including this one.  Which means I've trained for Ironman Arizona slightly longer than that.  I had some basic observations at the 50 post mark that are pretty quaint.

One-hundred posts later, what have I learned?

Here's my updated Top 10 Things I've Learned About Ironman Training.  For those of you reading, I'd sure love to see your top 10!

10) Better equipment can make a difference.  See yesterday's blog post.

9) Triathlon is an f-ing expensive sport!  See yesterday's blog post.

8 Compression apparel works.  My calves feel more refreshed when I wear them.

7) Writing a blog post every day is a lot like training for a triathlon.  You have to pace yourself, realize that some days are better than others, and that it's a largely solitary endeavor.

6) Triathlon is much more enjoyable when it's a team effort.  Not just a triathlon team or club, but when you have a partner actively supporting and encouraging you. Thanks, Steph.

5) You get much more out of triathlon than what you put in in terms of caring and sharing.  But the latter feels better.  Wildflower taught me that.

4) The mind is so much more powerful than any muscle in the body.  I've overcome hunger, pain, and illness to finish what I've started.  My willpower has grown during this journey as much as my stamina or strength.

3) Increased intake of fruits and vegetables can replace multivitamins -- thanks to stuff I didn't previously like that I now crave (oranges, avocado, tomatoes).  I stopped taking a daily multivitamin weeks ago after increasing my berries and orange intake.  I haven't felt an energy dip.

2) I am really damn competitive.  I kinda knew that already, but this sport has shown me that I'm almost obsessive about it.  Can't tell yet if it's a positive or negative.  I suppose it depends on what my willpower is telling me.

1) Triathlon training or races cannot be taken for granted.  Anything can happen.  Bad weather.  Unexpected equipment malfunctions (not of the Janet Jackson variety).  Illness.  Injury.  Every opportunity to train is a gift.  I now treat it accordingly.

196 days and counting.

Makeshift Yoga Studio

Stephanie and I opened our own yoga studio tonight, Dickens Downward Dog Yoga.

It's located right here in Sherman Oaks, in my bedroom, in fact.

(Yes Dad, you can keep reading.  This is a G-rated blog.)

Steph and I both had a long day and night, yet both of our schedules called for an hour yoga session.  The only way we could make it work was to use a DVD.  Of course, Steph made my room feel just like a yoga studio, complete with dim lighting, candles and music.  All that was missing was incense, which I can live without.

I find that yoga at the end of the day is hard.  Especially before bedtime and about an hour after dinner.  Concentration is low, although relaxation is at its highest.  The DVD, by Mark Blanchard, didn't help.  Both Steph and I were stymied at times by the complexity of the poses.  I had to retreat to Child's Pose a few times and by the end of the workout completely ignored the DVD to work at my own pace with more mellow poses.

Maybe that's the point of yoga.  There's no wrong way to do it.  There's no being overwhelmed.  It's how you respond to the poses being suggested that matters.  Instead of forcing the pose, as is often the case in life, sometimes it's best to simply choose a more comfortable pose altogether.  It's one thing to push outside of a comfort zone.  It's also just as valuable to know when to remain within the friendly confines of comfort.

At 10 p.m. on a Monday night, comfort won out.

There's nothing wrong with that.

"There's nothing wrong with that."

Perhaps that will be the new mantra of our new studio.

I like that sound of that.

Dickens Downward Dog Yoga is closing for the night.

Namaste.

199 days and counting.