The Building Wave

Two months from right now, I'll be eating my Last Supper before Ironman.  Wondering about the Big Day that will come in those next 12 hours. I've been thinking about and waiting for this since my first workout more than 10 months ago.  It's now only 60 days away.

That still seems like a long time, but when I break it up with five weeks of peak training and three weeks of tapering, it's really almost here.  It still hasn't really hit me though.  Emotionally, I feel like I'm in an ocean with my feet still barely touching the sand.  I can see the incoming swell in the distance but it hasn't yet lifted me off my feet.  The power of the wave hasn't formulated.  But the energy, the anticipation, it's definitely there.

Today was more or less about recovery.  I ran for an hour this morning on what appeared to be the first day of school in my neighborhood's elementary school.  Cars jammed the streets on Dickens, causing me to be just that much more aware of my surroundings.  It's not like I was running fast though, as my legs were a little sluggish and my heart rate was beating as slow as I can remember in a run.  It took me almost through the first 40 minutes to creep into zone 3.

I just finished a yoga workout before returning into the office.  The calves are tight and my lower back is as well.  But there's no time to rest further.  Ironman training beckons.  Tomorrow is another two-hour-plus training day, filled with 80 minutes on the bike and 60 minutes in the pool in the evening.  All en route to a 19.5-hour training week.

The wave is picking up steam.  The water is rising above my chest.  I'm a little nervous, but not panicking.

Even though I haven't, I feel like I've been in this exact spot in the ocean before.  More than 2,000 miles logged on the Garmin and 185 hours confirm that sentiment.

I'm ready for the wave.

60 days and counting.

Atonement Day

Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement, began last evening and continues through tonight.  It is the traditional point in the Jewish year where Jews pause their life to reflect on how they're living it.  As we look inward, we try to be honest with ourselves on how we've treated others.  Have we done enough for others?  Have we lived to our true potential as a person?  Where can we improve and how might we do it? It can be difficult for some to look inside and take time to make those assessments.  For me, I tend to do it all the time.  There's a lot of time to think when you're training for an Ironman.  Or when you're taking a recovery day to attend synagogue, as Stephanie and I are doing.

And what have I observed?

I've observed that Ironman training takes up a big chunk of my free time. Which has been a convenient excuse for me to limit my philanthropic efforts.  I can definitely improve there.

I've observed that Ironman training is an incredibly selfish pursuit. I'm often racked with guilt that I don't spend as much time as I'd like with Stephanie or my family and friends.  Or my co-workers, who must be frustrated at least occasionally with my flexible schedule.

I've observed that I'm a competitor.  I've always known this, to be fair.  But I've been in touch with it even more over the past year, especially since joining the Fortius Racing Team.  I fear being the slowest of my group.  And I detest losing. I hate losing in practice.  I hate losing in a race.  It doesn't matter if it's my own teammates.  I hate losing.  I want to win.  Period.  While that kind of obsessive drive helps me push myself harder both on the course or in the office, perhaps it can rub people the wrong way.  People who enjoy the more social aspects of the sport or maybe don't have the same competitive streak.

I've also observed that even when I try hard to avoid it, my pride may take over.  There's a fine line between pride and vanity.  I've crossed that line a few times this year, at least in my own mind.  I'm embarrassed when that happens.  There's no way to take it back.

What's nice about Yom Kippur is that it's a day of forgiveness.  A day where old promises and decrees are declared null and void.  So long as there's an honest intention for fixing our foibles in the future.

During the course of my passionate pursuit of this Ironman goal, I'm sure I've hurt others -- at least unintentionally.  I've never tried to harm anyone on purpose, that's for sure.  And when I have bothered someone in particular, I've done my best to apologize immediately.

So to those who have been frustrated my actions -- on the race course, at practice, at work, at home -- I'm truly sorry. I will try to do better this coming year.  I will try to keep my competitive streak in check, especially my temper.  I will continue doing my best to juggle family time and training time.  I will try not to let my ego get the better of me when I'm feeling good about myself.

And I will fail.

But I will always give my best effort to be my best.

That is one promise I know I can keep.

62 days and counting.

Monday Blahs

The battle for control over my body is in full swing.  So far, it's a draw between the Germs and Immune System. Of course, I did use a performance-enhancing drug last night to aid in the fight: NyQuil.  That stuff is brutal!  At first, I was chattier than Joan Rivers on the red carpet.  Then, BOOM!  I felt like my legs and arms were anchored to the covers while my brain floated away like an inflated balloon.  Unfortunately, the sharp pain in my throat woke me up enough to remind me of my whereabouts.

Today, I've gone through waves of feeling healthy and waves of being hot, sore and sick.  There's pressure behind my eyes as I write this.  The good news is that I'm spitting out all sorts of mucus, and none of it is of the gross, brown/yellow variety.  That has to be a good sign.

I participated in a yoga class earlier and was able to maintain my nasal breathing for the most part, which is also encouraging.  I'm planning to continue my normal volume of training this week until my body indicates otherwise.

Not much to report today.  So I'll cut it short for now.  The quiet joy of an off-day tempered by not feeling 100%.

That about sums it up.  Definitely a case of the Mondays.

67 days and counting.

New Year, New Spirit

Perhaps it's a Rosh Hashanah gift.  It's the only logical explanation for me not having any workouts today. Not that I'm complaining.  Last week I had 17.5 hours scheduled and logged roughly 16 total.  This week, including the upcoming Nautica Malibu Triathlon, I've got 11.5 hours scheduled.  Big difference.  A welcome one too, considering Coach Gerardo told me the other day that next week's training was going to be "a rough one."

I'm actually looking forward to the challenging week ahead, though I'm thoroughly enjoying this week's race taper -- the last real one before my Ironman cooldown in early-mid November.  During this rest period, I've noticed that I'm sleeping many more hours than usual.  Typically, I'm sleeping between 7-8 hours a night.  Twice this week though, I've logged 10 hours sleep.  And I even managed a nap this afternoon following synagogue and before the traditional family dinner.

Is this a sign of over-training, fatigue or just capitalizing on a great opportunity to catch up on rest? I'm honestly not sure, but am confident it will benefit my race time this Saturday.

Tomorrow, the only workout planned is a 30-minute easy run with four, 60-second pick-ups at race pace.  Steph said she'd come with me if her back is feeling up to the challenge.  Then, it's packet pick up in the early evening, more rest, and blast-off Saturday morning.  My reward for a hard fought race?  That'll be 75 miles on the bike Sunday. Not sure who's coming with me yet as most of my Fortius teammates are racing somewhere else.

One final note.  As I sat in services today, one of the many things that crossed my mind was that I really needed a joyous event like the Jewish New Year to pick up my training spirits. In case you haven't sensed it, I think I'm a little burnt out lately.  The constant training routine has been getting to me, almost numbing me to the joy of the sport.  The six-days-a-week slog fest of training and racing has felt almost as much like a second job as the adventurous hobby that triathlon should be. So, with a religious event that symbolizes renewal and celebration as my catalyst, I'm jolting myself out of this recent lethargy and recalling how lucky I am to be able to pursue this sport and the goal of an Ironman with such flexibility and support.

It's a new year, symbolized by the sounding of the ram's horn shofar.  With that blast, comes a re-energized spirit.  A promise within myself to try and do better. To be better.  Not just better, but to be my best.  Towards others and within myself.

We're in the final stages of Ironman preparation.  Now is the time to dig deep, remind myself that past results don't indicate future success, and that there's still much more adventure to be had.

The best is yet to come.

71 days and counting.

5 Day Energy Drink, Please

No blogging last night.  Got home at 1 a.m. after waiting 40 minutes to leave the bottom floor of the Hollywood & Highland parking garage following a stellar Dave Matthews Band concert.  I hadn't been much of a DMB fan since the late 90s, but that didn't matter last night.  My family convened to celebrate my dad's 64th birthday, though it was a surprise for him since he didn't know Steph, my sister Dana and her boyfriend Craig were also coming.  We bounced, clapped and swayed our way through the evening, laughing, singing and joking with one another.  Truly a memorable night -- except for the long wait to get home. Which leaves me scrambling for some energy tonight, despite still managing nearly eight hours of sleep by skipping my morning swim workout.  I'm heading to the pool in about 15 minutes, wondering where the energy to avoid sinking is going to come from.  The cumulative effects of a hard Saturday century ride followed by a long Sunday morning trail run, strength training, last night's concert, and today's 40-minute "slow" heart-rate zone 1 treadmill run have added up.  I really dislike admitting I'm tired, but I just am.  With a long-course triathlon race on Saturday (Santa Barbara Triathlon), I'm getting concerned that I won't have enough energy in the tank by week's end.  Coach Gerardo has assured me that tomorrow's tempo brick should further prepare me for Saturday, while if needed I can skip the Thursday evening track workout.

Honestly, that sounds quite appealing right about now.  I wish I had one of those 5 Hour Energy Drinks but instead could call it a 5 DAY Energy Drink to get me through the rest of the week!

It's only Tuesday?  Really???

88 days and counting.

From Tin to Steel Man Part III: Post-Race Vacation

Every romantic holiday should start by shotgunning beers. At least mine did!  Stephanie and I celebrated our Half-Ironman achievements with my Fortius teammates at a friend's home in Santa Rosa.  I knew it would be a raucous time when Mike sent me a text message, "We gonna shotgun beers!"

Uh, OK.  Actually, I think I texted back, "Fuck."

I hadn't shotgunned a beer since college, back when I was known as "Twiggy" and "Two Beer."

After 70.3 total miles in nearly 90-degree heat, I knew I'd be "One Beer."

We all laughed, drank (fairly heavily), traded race-day stories and ate a ton of carbs -- all with the Tour de France playing in the background.  It was this triathlon dork's dream party.

So began what has turned out to be a decadent week off from training, which I've enjoyed as thoroughly as the race itself.  So far in this racing odyssey, I've really yet to take adequate time to savor a race experience to the fullest.  I'm usually analyzing (and re-analyzing) every detail, immediately writing the blog, planning the next race and comparing notes with my fellow competitors.

For once this season, I decided to fully unplug and do what's most important: celebrate with my fiancee.  No Facebook (well, a little).  No Twitter.  No blog.  Just Steph and me.  Roadtrip companions.  Riding down PCH, no hotel reservations, no destination in particular, no plans.

No problem!

I've probably written about this before, but triathlon is a selfish pursuit.  It requires a lot of dedication and discipline, often coming at the expense of friendly social outings with mates and family.  That can pose problems in a relationship, especially if the other person isn't a triathlete.  That's why I've tried to ensure that Steph knows  that even though I'm doing the actual racing, she's my real race companion.  The person who makes my motor run.  The inspiration that makes me go just a little faster.

When I compete, I refer to us as Team Schneider.  And I really mean it.  But if that's the case, then WE need to celebrate better.  And that's what we did Sunday, Monday and Tuesday.

On Monday, we drove the Vineman 70.3 bike course so I could show Steph the route's beauty. Of course, that meant showing her several charming wineries that nearly led to impromptu wedding venue visits.

Annnnnnd we're moving right along. ... I sped up a little more at those intersections!

We had a good time talking about the key moments in the bike race and where exactly they occurred. I think it helped Steph visualize more of the experience since she could only see me during brief transitory moments.  We then took River Road past Guerneville all the way to Bodega Bay, stopping whenever the thought struck us for photo opps, an oyster shucking lesson and eventually a gigantic burger in Point Reyes further down on PCH.  Did you know Sir Francis Drake visited North America in 1579?  Yeah, neither did I.  Apparently he stopped in the Point Reyes area, maybe because the burger was just that damn good.

We eventually snaked our way on Highway 1 past Mount Tamalpais, through Saulsalito, past the Golden Gate bridge (hiding behind the clouds) and through the western most part of San Francisco.  By then it was close to 7 p.m. and we realized our plan of reaching Big Sur by sunset was going to fail.  But this turned into a big win since we had been trying unsuccessfully to visit with Steph's best friend Annie the entire weekend.  We shifted course to Annie and David's apartment in Los Gatos and enjoyed a late-night feast.

Tuesday was largely uneventful as we leisurely drove home from Annie's.  The key words are leisurely and uneventful.  Both my life and Steph's are so heavily scheduled that the notion of "free" time for either of us is almost unheard of.  This vacation was special not because of what we did, but what we didn't do.  We didn't rush from activity to activity, or plan around my training.  Of course, we did touch down at home around 4 p.m. only to leave a few hours later to enjoy another feast -- this time in Santa Monica -- with our good friends Erika and Adam.  (If you haven't eaten at Rustic Canyon, I'd recommend it. Though I'd avoid the pork chop unless you like it on the drier side.  The corn soup, crispy polenta, lamb meatballs and assortment of desserts more than compensate.)

We got home around 10:30 p.m. Team Schneider's whirlwind five-day Half-Ironman had crossed the finish line.  Much like how I looked at the end of the race, that's how I felt by the time the long weekend was over.  Gloriously spent.  We left nothing in the proverbial fuel tank.

To all my friends racing Vineman Full: I hope you will celebrate as hard as you trained.  I hope you hug or kiss the people in your life whom also sacrificed to help you reach your goals.  I hope you let them know how much it means to them when you see them screaming for you at every transition -- knowing they're really waiting several hours at a time just to catch a glimpse of you.

We couldn't do any of this without our race partners.  I can't do it without mine.

And I'm happy -- almost happy beyond words -- that I don't have to.

I may be signing off for a couple days.  If something comes up worth writing about during my time off, I will blog. If not, I'd like to spend more time with my friends and family before I dive back into the deep end of Ironman training.  I know what's in store for the next four months.

121 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.

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.

Pain in the Neck

The good news is I don't think I'm sick.  No symptoms of illness today.  No sore throat.  The headache is gone.  No achy bones and joints. The bad news is that my lats and neck are extremely tight.  My back feels rounded by tightness.  My side neck muscles are totally strained. It contributes to a feeling of illness because my entire upper body feels off.

And it's definitely because of my new swim stroke.

At least I know the culprit.

It could be a lot worse. I could have gotten sick.  I may still get sick, for all I know.  But so far, the past couple days have given my legs a chance to heal completely.  I feel fresh from the waist down  I'll be jumping in the pool tomorrow morning and perhaps I can work through the soreness and agitation. Maybe Coach Gerardo can pinpoint what I'm doing that's causing this tension.  Or, maybe I'm doing the stroke right and this is the initial natural by-product. I hope so. And I hope I pick up at least a minute of time from this new mechanical tweak/parlor trick.

Not much else to report from today.  The only "workout" I had, if you can call it that, was a 1.5 hour yoga session at Black Dog.  It was a "gentle yoga" session, perfect for my back and neck but not so good for my fitness level.  However, I feel a touch better in the lats -- not so much in the neck.

By tomorrow, I'll essentially have worked 2.5 hours in three days.  I basically missed roughly 6.5 hours of training.  Will that come back to haunt me this Sunday?  I have no idea.  I do know Gerardo wants me to post a 2:30:00 finish time at the event. That would be 14 minutes faster than my previous best.  I am up for the challenge still, but I doubt it will be good enough to qualify for nationals.  I will fire it up and do my very best though.  That's all I can do.  Bum swim stroke and all.

150 days and counting. And exactly five months from today, I hope to be an Ironman.

A Welcome Change

When I saw my Fortius training schedule for the week, I thought Coach Gerardo had made a mistake. Two off days?  Seriously?  An early birthday present, perhaps?

It turns out that the increased training intensity I had been bitching about the past few weeks was real.  And now, it's time for a brief rest period.

No objections from me!  Or from Pete at Helen's Cycles, an aspiring British national track cycling team member.  He mentioned he thought I was due for a slight taper from the past few weeks.  Lo and behold, I got one!

I thoroughly enjoyed my training day off.  Slept in.  Didn't pack a workout bag.  Took the steps from the parking garage to the office lobby two at a time without much pain.  Ahh, recovery!

Tomorrow is a light day too, a real birthday treat.  I'll be swimming at 6 a.m. with the Fortius gang and taking a 9 a.m. yoga class after that. Then, it's off to my favorite beach (San Buenaventura) for a vacation day filled with In N' Out, reading, reflection, and relaxation.  My kind of day!

In other news though, Gerardo told me I should practice my T1 transition and learn how to get a moving start on the bike.  This means clipping my cleats on the pedals and doing a running mount on the bike to shave time off the clock.  I'll need every second at the Breath of Life Olympic triathlon on June 27.  If you have any tips or tricks I'd love to hear them.  To be honest, I'm afraid of crunching "my boys" on the frame by being over-anxious with the bike mount.  I literally just shivered with dread thinking about that.

In a more pleasant note, I got accepted into Vineman 70.3!  No more waitlist, baby!  It's official, my first Half Ironman is now just under six weeks away.  This poses an interesting dilemma where I'll be tapering just a little for the Olympic national championship qualifier race while ramping up for the 70.3-mile distance.  Talk about muscle confusion!

One area where there's no confusion: NO WORKOUTS TODAY!

163 days and counting.