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.

Triathlon Season Approacheth

In two days I'll be kicking off the 2010 triathlon season with the Desert Triathlon near La Quinta, Calif.

This marks the start of my second full season in the sport, though I completed two triathlons in 2008.  At what point am I considered a grizzled veteran?  The Desert Tri, which brings together both the San Diego and Los Angeles triathlon clubs for a weekend of socializing and friendly competition, marks my eighth triathlon overall. Four sprints and three Olympic-distance events.  Maybe when I hit 10 triathlons I'll attain non-noob status, as the video game kiddies like to say.  Sufficient XP gained, Trophy unlocked.

I'm pretty surprised at how mellow I am about the whole race thing.  I remember just a couple years ago feeling so incredibly jacked up for my first triathlon, the Nautica Malibu Triathlon.  I even got a hotel room -- 30 minutes from my own townhome at the time -- to make sure I arrived on time to the event with a few minutes extra sleep.  Hard core, or just plain ignorant? Probably a little bit of both.

Tonight while at work, I casually flipped open my email inbox to see A) where the race was being held, B) how to get there, C) remember the hotel I booked and D) oh yeah, what's the course look like?  It would be nice to know the distance associated with the race, too.  Since it's a sprint, though, I didn't figure it would matter much given all the training.

How times have changed.  I remember last year my IT bands would lock up during the 10k run portion of the Olympic triathlons.  Usually around the fourth mile, my legs would start to give out.  I could barely walk after the events.  Now, it seems like I don't even get warmed up until around the fifth mile.  I'm eager to see how I feel during Sunday's race.

I've already proven to myself that the training is paying off in terms of my physical conditioning and mental outlook, so I really don't have the usual pre-race jitters of any kind.  Instead, those feelings are replaced with total relaxation, almost as if it's just another fun weekend of training and socializing.  I'm not sure what to do with that.  I'm used to everything I do taking on a deeper meaning of some kind, a greater significance.  But, honestly, even though the Desert Triathlon marks the start of the 2010 triathlon season, it's a tiny blip in the grand scheme of things.  On one hand, I'm proud of myself for having such a relaxed and detached perspective.  On the other, I miss the giddiness of wondering what to expect out of the race and out of myself.  I miss the excitement of trying something new, of pushing myself to the limits.

Then again, it is early.  It's only Friday night. After a day off from training.  Chilling out on the couch playing games in the dim light of my living room.

If I'm writing the same type of blog on Saturday night, then maybe I've really changed.

I have a feeling I'll be jacked up by then.

263 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.

Surf City Half Marathon: A Double PR

When I woke up at 4:30 this morning, I wasn't sure how my first official race of the Ironman season was going to fare.  As is often the case with me, myriad thoughts ran rampant through my head, all vying for attention simultaneously:

  • Would all this heart-rate mumbo-jumbo actually pay off?
  • Have all the training hours actually transformed me into a better triathlete?
  • Would the weekly trail runs in Agoura and Newbury Park harden my legs to better withstand the rigors of pavement running?

As I sit comfortably in my office chair at home, the answer is yes, I think so and definitely!

The morning and race itself was a blur.  I attribute that to a mixture of grogginess, "runner's trance" and pure joy.  Here are the highlights I recall:

Around 7:10 a.m., my Fortius teammates Mike and Karen arrived with me to the race starting area with about 30 minutes to spare before the starting gun.  We carpooled together, which was atypical for me. Typically, I like to arrive much earlier to feel the race environment, feed off the crowd energy, get appropriately warmed up, and generally amped for the start.  Mike's approach is different, and turned out to be beneficial.  He likes to wait in the warmth of his car for as long as possible before taking the shuttle bus over, and then get loose just before the race start. I think I'm going to do that more often.

Despite the early morning chill (46 degrees around 6:30 a.m.), once I started jogging I immediately became warm and focused.  I was surprised at how comfortable I felt with such little preparation compared to my normal routine.

In another big departure, I chose not to run with music.  I wanted to see what it would be like to simply stay in touch with my breathing without distraction, figuring that the sound of 20,000 footsteps all around me would provide a symphony all its own. I loved it.  I felt more connected to the race, and what I can only describe as a hive-mind mentality of thousands of people marching towards one goal simultaneously.  Powerful stuff.  Hence, "runner's trance."

As much as music can be a motivator, it can also isolate us from each other in the most engaging of moments begging to be shared with others.

On to the actual running.  The sense of connectivity I felt with my surroundings and the experience at-large boosted my performance.  I started the race more calmly.  I maintained my zone 3 heart rate for much longer, and was able to drop it a little more easily when I crept upward.  The result was that I grew stronger as the race progressed.  My first three miles were at an 8:17 pace, followed by an 8:09 pace at the eight-mile marker.

My first indication that today might yield a good finish time came around the fourth mile, when I caught up to the 1:50:00 pace group.  For the next three miles, it became a tantalizing game of cat-and-mouse, as I'd gently throttle up to the front of the group, only to drop back a ways after my heart-rate rose to a point beyond my race-day plan.  I passed the 1:50 group unexpectedly, rounding a corner back onto Pacific Coast Highway.  There was a water stop at the intersection and as I made the right turn, I couldn't see the 1:50 sign bobbing ahead as it had been.  At first I thought I fell off the pace dramatically since there was traffic in the hydration area.

Then, I looked backwards.

Big smile.

It was at that moment I knew I was going to break my personal record.

The rest of the race became a gradual series of surprise and joy, as I waited in vain for my legs to lock up, or something bad to happen.  Yet, as I continued toward the finish, I was growing stronger, faster and more confident.  People whom I couldn't reach in the first part of the race were falling behind me.  And it felt great.  My only challenge was keeping my heart-rate under control not because of working too hard, but because I was just so damn excited!  It ultimately became a game to see how much time I could shave off my previous PR (1:50).

I finished in 1:45:59, more than four minutes faster than last year's best result.

Then, I strutted (literally) down the finisher's corridor straight to the beer garden.  There I met some new friends I've met via my twitter account (@theironmadman).  Bob (@rcmcoach), Liana (@fittorrent) and Chris (@chrisschauble) were all on hand to congratulate me and each other for a great run.  We combined forces with LA Tri Club and Fortius friends to make a larger celebration party (pictured).  And merriment ensued.

Strangely enough, my race may not have been the biggest breakthrough of the day.  As I watched the Super Bowl with my buddy Kevin and some other long-time friends, my thoughts drifted to my break-up.  I was wondering what she was doing at that moment, where she was.  And I was really frustrated.  I've been fighting an inner war the past several weeks between two selves: The guy who still loved his girl, and the guy who sadly knew it was time to move forward and anew.

I couldn't figure out why I still wanted to be with her, and then it occurred to me in a true epiphany: When I'm not with her, my emotional core takes over.  Sometimes I can't think clearly.  All I see is her and what could have been. Yet, when I was with her, my practical self would rule, and that self could clearly see the challenges inherent in the relationship. Ultimately, that self won out.

In a healthy, stable relationship, both selves must be in alignment.  When they're not, something is wrong.

I let out an audible sigh that must have been lost amidst all the cheers in the game. But this was a very big moment for me.  I totally get it now.  When I'm feeling a little low, now I know why I'm feeling low. It's not because I made a mistake in the relationship, it's simply because it's a natural emotional response to missing someone you care for.  But it doesn't mean it's time to go back.

It's time to move forward. Even when it's hard to do so.  But this realization makes it MUCH easier to do so.

So, today was also a personal PR for me.  While I miss my ex-girlfriend greatly, I unburdened a big part of my past right there in that living room.  And hopefully left it there.

Whomever said "To know thyself is to love thyself" is one smart dude.

My Ironman journey grows deeper and more soulful by the day.  At the beginning, I was running towards a tangible finish line, but now the distance just continues to grow as the destination and route constantly changes.

289 days and counting.

Restart, Reboot Yourself

Welcome to my new website!

First, I hope you take a moment and read the “About” section along with the blurb on my home page to understand WHY I created IronMadMan.com.

Did that?  Great!

No?  OK, I’ll wait.

<Waiting…>

<Waiting…>

OK!

Today, I’m not going to write about today’s training regimen.

Instead, I want to share with you the hidden soul of my website.  The real reason behind its existence.  IronMadMan.com is inspired by a song from my favorite band, U2.

I heard “Unknown Caller” for the first time at the big Rose Bowl concert in Pasadena this past October 25.  I wasn’t really feeling No Line on the Horizon as an album until Bono, The Edge, Adam and Larry brought it to life in front of nearly 100,000 people.  I didn’t give it a fair shake.

During the show, “Unknown Caller” really spoke to me on a deeper level.

I was lost between the midnight and the dawning In a place of no consequence or company Sweet 33 when the numbers fell off the clock face Speed dialing with no signal at all

The above lyrics describe how my life felt at that moment.  I was a little in the dark.  My mind and heart were not quite in sync.  I lacked a center.  Or, I was fumbling through the dark trying to find it.

And then, with a sweeping chorus echoed by thousands throughout a packed stadium, this:

Restart and reboot yourself You’re free to go Oh, ohhh Shout for joy if you get the chance Password, you, enter here, right now

ZAP!  These words hit me in my gut as hard as the bass from the speakers were gyrating.  No matter what our lives look like at any given moment, to the outside world and in the deepest recesses within our soul, there is always time to reboot.  To refresh.  To start anew.

And it is exhilarating once you make that commitment!

Go, shout it out, rise up Oh, ohhh Escape yourself, and gravity

So, IronMadMan was born in my brain.  And “Unknown Caller” has been on a constant mental loop whenever I think of the site – or my Ironman journey in general.

Dream big.  Reach high.  Shout for joy… if you get the chance.

Password, You.  Enter here.  Right now.

Join me.

293 days and counting.

Recovery Day

Perhaps this is an addendum to yesterday's blog, but today I can't help but think about my ability to recover from this weekend's training sessions.

Just a few months ago, the notion of running 15 miles one day, cycling 50 the next and then "recovering" with a five-mile run and one hour of weights training the day after that would make me crawl into a fetal position.
Today, I rather enjoyed it!
What the hell is wrong with me?
The run portion of the workout, which I completed on the treadmill, was pretty tough at first. In fact, it took me about 30 minutes to loosen my legs before I began my 20 minutes of tempo running. Somewhat surprisingly though, I didn't feel the effects from this weekend's training as much during the weightlifting. Certain leg exercises were more difficult than others, but overall, I wasn't overly sore. It may have helped that I lifted immediately after the run, since this afternoon and evening have been filled with meetings, a dentist appointment (filling, ugh!) and a dinner that I'll be en route to shortly.
I'm already looking forward to tomorrow's workouts. I never thought I'd say it, but I'm excited to get back in the pool. It's been four days since I swam, but it feels like longer. I used to hate swimming... now I look forward to it. Weird!
It just goes to show that with enough practice and repetition, your mind and mindset can adapt. Routine, as dull as it may sound, can become sublime. Even invigorating.
Therapeutic? Perhaps.
When I set after my quest for Ironman, I thought triathlon would dramatically expand my physical capabilities. I never expected that the sport would take my psyche along for the ride and give it a tune-up along the way.
295 days and counting.

Becoming 1 With the Bike, 1 With Myself


While cycling through the foothills of Malibu Canyon, I realized I might as well have been riding a tandem bike.

I felt like two people sharing the same body.
There was the groggy, embarrassed and melancholy Ryan who was flustered after being startled awake at 5:30 a.m. by Trudy, arrived to the Fortius group ride (pictured) late, busted his tube while trying to put air in the tire, and established a new Fortius team record for the slowest tire change (14 minutes!). Not to mention that four hours on the bike without much conversation was proving fertile ground to recycle and re-analyze the details of my defunct relationship with my ex-girlfriend.
But there was also the strong, confident and experienced Ryan who is finally mentally getting over the effects of last year's bike crash, seeing dramatic improvements in his fitness and is learning much more about effective pacing and nutrition on long rides.
In fact, today's ride, much like yesterday's run and the swim earlier this week, was perhaps the best cycling I've done yet. I felt strong on hill climbs, my heart rate remained mostly below 150 bpm even on grades as high as 11%, and I surprised myself climbing the fabled "7 Minute Hill" off Mulholland Drive in just over 11 minutes. Coach Gerardo thinks I can hit seven minutes by the time my Ironman rolls around in November. We'll see about that.
Be that as it may, if you were to shuffle all the feelings described above like a deck of cards and scatter them rapidly across the blackjack table randomly, you could gain a glimpse into the frenetic innermost workings of my overly active mind on a crisp, sunny Sunday morning.
They all converged though when I realized the parallels inherent in recovering mentally from a harrowing bike crash and recovering from a tough break-up.
Of course, this exact thought entered my mind as I was hurtling around the corners down "7 Minute Hill" at speeds I haven't attempted in several months. But I was comfortable. I wasn't going for speed, but rather efficiency on holding a line. The speed was just a fortunate byproduct of confidence, more hours on the bike, and a healed psyche. I truly, for the first time ever on a bike, felt like I was One with it.
Corny as it sounds, I truly felt a deeper connection with my bike today. Like my bike would protect me if I trusted it the way the kid trusted the horse in Black Beauty. Or any other movie involving a headstrong kid and a stubborn horse!
I digress. My point though is that healing takes time. This feeling of Oneness didn't happen overnight. Far from it. I've only learned what Oneness actually can feel like by toppling down Santa Susana Pass last April.
Healing, no matter how hard you try, can't be forced. You have to proceed cautiously for a long time. You can't rush healing. It has to happen in baby steps, and a process has to be trusted. You also need people you can lean on for support, people who help you improve and grow. Then, one day when you least expect it, you're "healed." Sure, you remember the pain, the suffering, the anxiety. You never forget it. But you also gather the experience and become better, faster, stronger.
Right now, my relationship scrapes are pretty fresh. No more bleeding, but the bandages are still being changed out. I am up and moving forward, but must accept doing so cautiously. I can't just rocket around the next dating corner automatically. There have to be baby steps first. A process. And, as frustrated as I am about it all, none of this can be forced.
Even though this realization may not change how I feel emotionally, it offers me a framework for dealing with the grief more effectively. For understanding where I'm at, independent of that oft-used DABDA acronym (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance) quoted by the TV psycho-pundits. And what's still in store for me on this windy road ahead.
Strangely, I find that context soothing.
I never imagined that crashing my bike would teach me so much about the importance of getting back on it. Literally, and metaphorically speaking.
297 days and counting.

The Joy of Blogging

Nothing really happened of note today.

And that is the joy of blogging. I am forced to stop and think about what actually did happen, even if it seems inconsequential. Blogging slows time down at that late hour where an old day ends and a new one begins. It offers an opportunity for reflection where none would otherwise occur -- when the joyful feeling of crawling into bed with cold sheets, warm sweats, and a heavy head is savored just a bit longer thanks to a room illuminated by a solitary laptop.
Since today was an off-day from training, I was able to focus solely on work and non-Ironman pursuits. And I still found time for burgers and beer at the Blue Dog tonight. The highlight of my day was, without doubt, seeing the in-progress version of my pending IronMadMan website. It still has a ways to go, but Ward is doing a fantastic job of bringing my vision to life. I can't wait until I switch over to the new site and we can open up the community further without having to worry about sign-in info. The goal for the re-launch is next week.
I need to power down and call it a night. I have to get up in 6.5 hours for a 2.5 hour run before the beginning of my parents' 40th anniversary party in Westlake.
More to report then.
Wow, i just realized that in another moment, we'll already be out of the 300s on the countdown! I'm kind of sad, actually. Which is completely unexpected. See, I'll never be able to recapture the feeling of being a first-time Ironman-in-training in my first two months of training. I now know what to expect going forward. Yet, the joy of blogging has enabled me to appreciate those two months more deeply. To understand my life a little better and the moments that help define it.
Thank you for sharing it with me.
... 299 days and counting.

And Then You Have, the Facts of Life

Sometimes, I just have to sit for a while in a quiet place and try to make some sense of the life I live.

Most days, everything makes sense. I set a goal, focus on it, go after it, and after some struggle, I either achieve it or I don't. And then it's on to the next "thing," whether it's a new task, challenge, milestone, relationship, or something else. Challenges motivate me the way Pacman pursues pellets. I want to gobble them up.
On the other days, it's a messy jambalaya of good, bad, hurt, joy, gain and loss. The swirling feelings of conflict and confusion remind me of the lyrics to one of my favorite '80s sitcoms, "Facts of Life":
"You take the good, you take the bad
You take it all and then you have...
The facts of life, the facts of life..."
If I'm staring within myself at a big, heaping bowl of jambalaya, I find that if I can just sit for a bit and try to understand and appreciate the situation -- without trying to fight it -- I might rise above it.
This is one of those days. Though the "rising above" part is always easier said than done.
I'm not going to focus on the "bad" part of the jambalaya today, but rather the reason why I'm writing this blog in the first place: to give my future children (nevermind the lack of a wife or girlfriend at the moment) a blueprint for setting and reaching major goals and, more important, inspiring others to try and do the same.
So far, my father is swimming, my buddy Dustin is embarking on his first triathlon, Corey is trying to eat better, and I just learned that now Anat's father is starting to take walks with his daughter.
Partially because of my story.
The movement is growing! Person by person. Day by day. It grows slowly, but we are building momentum. Something special is starting to happen.
What a feeling!
Helping fuel other people's fires is rekindling my own when my flame runs a little low. Today, my fire was a little dim. I couldn't rally for my morning swim because of a poor night's sleep. I fit in my 45-minute bike ride on the trainer, but the swim was the first workout I've skipped due simply to lack of effort in my two months working with Coach Gerardo.
I'd be lying if I said I wasn't beating myself up at all about missing a workout or why, but the process of Ironman training is at least helping me better accept the true meaning that tomorrow is another day. A new opportunity to spit out the bad pieces in the jambalaya. To refocus on the positive. A fresh start. A chance to look forward and not behind. A chance to convince one more person that they can do something beyond their wildest imagination if they want to and are willing to put in the work.
So, I'm going to amend the "Facts of Life" lyrics, for now. I'm going to acknowledge the bad but only take the good. And march forward.
And there you have... my facts of life.
303 days and counting.