Wildflower Preview

It's been two days since I returned from a Fortius Coaching training weekend at Lake San Antonio, site of the famed and fabled Wildflower triathlon.

I'm still trying to find the right words to describe my experience there.

I've only completed eight triathlons.  But Wildflower is poised to be the grand-daddy of them all -- the Rose Bowl of triathlons.  The scenery -- picture flowing Texas prairies interspersed with creeks and mountains in the distance -- challenging course routes and abundant wildlife combine to offer an experience that almost makes you forget you're pushing your body to its physical limit.

Almost.

While I could spend hours writing about the relationships I either formed or strengthened with Fortius teammates, I'm going to focus instead on the course itself.  It deserves its own tribute, after all.  I also promised my friends who haven't been to Wildflower that I'd share what I learned.  Selfishly speaking though, I want the images of the myriad hills burned in my head on race day.  I'm going to need that kind of recall.

Wildflower has a reputation for being the second-hardest triathlon course in America.  After swimming in the lake's chilly, murky water, biking both the Olympic and long course routes and running the Olympic course, I can't imagine how difficult our nation's hardest triathlon course would be.

I'll start with the swim.  The good news is that the water temperature should rise a few degrees by May 1.  The bad news (for me) was that this weekend's water temperature was in the mid-high 50s. But that's not going to be the tough part of the swim.

That honor would be reserved for running up an approximately 100-yard concrete boat ramp from the swim exit to the bike transition area.  I can think of few things as fun as just emerging from the water, cold, slightly dizzy and drenched, only to look up at about a 3-5% grade separating you from your bike.

Coach Gerardo suggested not running up the ramp but taking a bit of extra time to settle the heart rate.  An especially wise decision considering the first few miles of the Wildflower Olympic course (which I'm registered for) are a climb up and out of the main park area.  The grade reaches about 8-9% as I recall, so it's important to start the bike ride A) in the low gear coming from T1 and B) with as low of a heart-rate as possible.  There are mostly gentle rollers from Interlake Road onward to the turnaround point, though a few big hills loom towards the latter part of the first 12-13 miles.

According to Gerardo and our training weekend cycling coach, Derek, one of the other big keys to a successful Wildflower bike ride is conserving enough energy on the first half of the ride to achieve a negative split time on the second half.  This is made a little easier as more of the return ride is downhill.  However, don't be fooled...there are a few big hills, especially around mile 15 (if I recall correctly) and the second-to-last portion of the course -- as you re-enter the park.  Make sure you have enough energy for a strong finishing kick.  You'll need it, but you'll be rewarded with a steep, fairly aggressive descent -- the same hill you battled to get out of the park will suck you right back in for the run.  If you're feeling fatigued take your time rolling down that hill.  That's how accidents happen. Trust me, I've been there in the past.

Side Note 1: For those of you doing the Wildflower long course, I salute you.  I rode the long bike course but didn't have the pleasure of running the long course.  That was fine by me.  The long course bike ride is actually a lot of fun, if you pace yourself.  I rode it in a fairly leisurely 3:52, but am glad I did.  Best advice: Save yourself for mile 41, a long (potentially painful) hill known simply as "Nasty Grade."  Need I say more?  Remember there's a follow-up climb to Nasty Grade, and once you start the descent from both, you can begin to drop the hammer if you have enough energy left to do so.  But again, as you'll see below, leave room for the run!

Ah yes, the run.  If you've completed the Firecracker 10k in Chinatown, you fondly recall the first three miles of the race are a spiraling uphill to the top of Dodger Stadium.

The Wildflower 10k course is tougher, to the tune of about 4.75 miles of climbing before you get a real break.

The good (and bad) news is that unlike the Firecracker, you'll see what's in front of you for most of the uphills.  Maybe it's best that you don't see it?  For me, I kept my head down and focused on what was in front of me, which was hard considering all the wildlife and vegetation that were seemingly cheering (mocking?) me along the way.

Side note 2: The deer at Lake San Antonio went to the New York School of Pigeon Behavioral Sciences.  They are unafraid of humans, will essentially pose for pictures and don't get squirrely unless you approach within 10-12 feet. Which, by the way, is a bad idea on general principle.  Deer look harmless but will totally ruin your day.  Or so I've heard.  Not something I want to test out, especially because they travel in groups at the lake.

Back to the run.  If you have trail-running shoes, you may want to bring them.  A good portion of the 10k run is on dirt -- a welcome reprieve from the concrete.  During the final mile, you'll head back to the pavement to run down the steep embankment you biked previously.  This will wreak havoc on your quad muscles but you probably won't feel it until after the race, given the euphoric feeling of completing one of the country's toughest triathlon challenges.

Although I didn't go all-out on the Olympic-distance bike or run, based on my practices I'm guessing it will take me about 3:09-3:15 to finish the entire course, not including transition times.  I'm budgeting about 35 minutes for the swim (though I'd love to be faster!), 1:40 on the bike and if all goes well, about a 54-minute run.  I ran almost immediately following biking the Olympic course so this seems pretty reasonable.

By comparison, I am capable of swimming about a 30-minute mile with a current, 1:10 or possibly less on a 25-mile bike ride and around 50 minutes or slightly less for a triathlon 10k run.  My past Olympic-distance triathlons have ranged from 2:44 to 3:00 (my first Olympic tri).  You can see my budget for this race will be a lot more conservative.

In the end though, the best part of the camp wasn't the preparation or the knowledge of the course.  By far, it was trading stories, insights and one-liners with my Fortius teammates.  Picture going to sleep-away camp but for triathletes.  And with much better food.  It was the ultimate weekend getaway for the obsessed weekend warrior athlete: eat, sleep, train, stretch, repeat.  No cell phones.  No internet access.  Just Triathlete magazine, good company, fantastic scenery, and challenging training.

Aside from having my fiance by my side, what more could an Iron Mad Man ask for?

I returned from Lake San Antonio completely physically and mentally rejuvenated for Ironman training.  I've got the Newport Beach triathlon this Sunday, but my mind is totally locked into May 1-2.  Wildflower.  Oh, it's on baby.

233 days and counting.

A Surprise Training Partner

Talk about a role reversal. Usually I'm the one who jumps out of bed in the morning ready to train.  This morning, like the past few days, I just couldn't find the energy to rally.

Along comes Stephanie, who decided to join me for an easy run in my neighborhood.  She was chipper and bounded out of bed.

"Good morning! Good morning!" she exclaimed, dancing around the house.  (Of course, her photo doesn't back that claim up, but that had more to do with surprising her with the camera at 6:30 a.m.)

Ugh.

Fortunately, her energy charged me up.  This was the first time in several months that Steph decided to come running with me, mostly because my Fortius training schedule called for an "easy" run.  I convinced her last night that easy meant running at any pace I wanted to and that she wouldn't be holding me back.

Getting Steph to hold herself back though, that's another story. She has always liked sprinting as hard as possible for as long as possible, until she just couldn't exercise any more.  I used to tell her that her exercise style was somewhat of a metaphor for how she lived life -- never slowing down, rushing from one thing to the next, go-go-go-go!

This morning was different though.  I was able to show Steph the value of pacing.  We started off with a walk for five minutes before transitioning into something loosely resembling a jog.  We gradually increased our speed but never accelerated beyond a capacity to hold a conversation.  While it was hard for Steph at first -- not going at full throttle meant to her that she wasn't burning calories -- she stayed with the plan. Easy does it.

We maintained our casual pace for about 20 minutes before Steph had to get back to the condo and prepare for work.  I told her from the beginning the goal of the workout was for her to feel like she had more left in her fuel tank when she returned home.  She should feel refreshed and energized, not winded and spent.

That went out the window at the last street corner.  Steph ratcheted up the speed to about my 10k pace for the last 200 yards of our run...and gasped for air once we reached the front steps of the condo.

Old habits die hard!  I didn't discourage her either, running side-by-side and letting her dictate the pace.

We walked another few hundred yards to restore her heart rate.  After bidding my new training partner adieu, I continued my jog for another 40 minutes.  I wonder if my watch was broken because it certainly felt like I was running faster than 11-minute miles.  But, that's what the Garmin indicated.  I suppose it had something to do with last night's brick but I felt better than my speed indicated. Strange.

Now, I'm signing off to pack for this weekend's training activity:  Fortius Racing Goes Camping.  That's right, my Ironman training team is heading up to the site of the Wildflower Triathlon on May 1-2 for a weekend of training and instruction.  It's a four-hour drive from Sherman Oaks, so I'm taking the rest of the week off from work.  How many people take a vacation to work out?

Only us crazy Iron Madmen!

I likely won't have internet or cell phone access starting this afternoon, so there won't be a blog entry for Friday and probably Saturday.  Considering that my new spam filter indicates only a couple people are clicking on the blog links via Twitter, I know you're probably not that broken up about the break.

I will take plenty of photos for those friends who are competing at Wildflower and write a full report on what to expect.  Until then, get out there and train!

237 days and counting.

An Exclusive Fraternity

I had an interesting conversation with my buddy John this morning. We were talking about industry-related happenings when he asked me how I was doing post-engagement.  I told him that I actually felt different. Like I actually had changed inside just a little.  I had always heard about this mental shift, that "something just clicks" in your brain when you enter into the world of engagement and marriage.

It's true!

No longer is it just about me. While that was really fun for 35 years, I know that I have a far greater responsibility now.  To be a true partner in all aspects of life, putting Stephanie  and her needs at the top of the list with my own.  It means when friends want to visit from out of town, discussing first with Steph before blindly saying "Sure!  Come on over and crash on the couch."  I never used to think in those terms -- didn't have to.  But now, it's instinctive.  We...not me.

John chuckled when I shared this revelation.  "Welcome to the fraternity," he said, adding that there's a tighter bond among married guys than single guys because of thoughts just like this.

Huh.  The strange part is that I thought I was done with fraternities in college.  But I can say I'm as excited to enter this exclusive club as I was my freshman year at the University of Arizona.  The same sense of wonder is there.  Maybe a little anxiety too, of the unknown.  The motivations are different, but just as powerful.

I suppose you could say I'm now a pledge in Mu Delta: Married Dudes.  I'll become an active sometime between next February and July.

***

On the Ironman training front, I had my first brick workout in weeks. Instead of training in the morning though, I waited until the late afternoon, when I joined LA Tri Club and Fortius Coaching members on a 90-minute bike ride up and around Griffith Park followed by a 30-minute trail run.  I held my own but think my heart-rate was a little higher than I'd like, mostly zone 4 for the long hill bike climb that takes you to the Griffith Park Observatory.

I've never ridden up the long hill that passes the Hollywood sign.  The road is in poor shape but the climb is a very good workout.  And the reward -- a postcard view of the Los Angeles basin -- makes it all worth it.

Clearly though, the best part of the workout was having training partners to enjoy it with.  I'm going to shuffle my schedule around in the future to do the Wednesday bricks -- working early in the morning and leaving earlier in the evening.  It makes such a difference not to have to wake yourself up at the crack of dawn to train alone.  Plus, it keeps Steph happy since she knows I'm likely to be safer in a group setting.

And these are the things I want to consider now -- especially since it's likely in the Mu Delta pledge manual.

237 days and counting.

The Luckiest

Yesterday, I mentioned that one of my favorite Ryan/Stephanie songs is "The Luckiest" by Ben Folds.  It's a song that only begins to describe how I feel about my journey with Stephanie.  There's so much emotion in the singer's voice and I really tap into that feeling. Tonight though, I have to say it means something a little different.

The 21st Century dictates that nothing is considered "official" if it isn't posted on Facebook, Twitter or even Foursquare these days.  So when Steph and I posted our engagement news on Facebook, I knew we'd both receive some congratulatory comments.

What I didn't expect was the near 100 comments and wishes from friends and family.  Many of whom I haven't spoken directly with in years.

I truly feel among the luckiest people to have such a loving and supportive group surrounding me in my life.  While it only takes literally 10 seconds or less to post a "Mazel Tov!" or "Congrats!" on someone's wall, it really makes a difference.  I felt truly flattered and humbled by all the sincere gestures.  I would say it even added some extra time on the after-glow of the celebration of our announcement.

So, thank you, everyone.  Thank you.

On to the rest of my day.  Besides starting my first day as Steph's fiance, I returned to the world of Ironman training. The workout was simple: 40 minutes of easy spinning and 40 minutes of easy running.  Emphasis on "easy."  However, I felt really good this morning!  It's amazing what a week of rest can do for your body.  I did my best to hold back on the bike, but it was hard not to crank up the gears on the trainer.  I remember just a couple weeks ago how hard it was to get out of just the first gear.  Today, I wanted to pedal in the big chain immediately. I hope I can maintain that energy level for longer moving forward.

I enjoyed the run even more. Not for the physical activity itself.  But rather the feeling of running again.  The way my warm sweat cooled instantly in the balmy morning air.  The gentleness of the very slight breeze glancing off my visor and glistening forehead.  The long-lost bounce in my steps.  My pace was less than stellar, roughly 9:45-10:00, but the gentle zone 2 heart-rate assured me I had a lot more fuel in the energy tank than just a few weeks ago.  It makes me wonder whether my new Garmin would have helped me run a smarter LA Marathon had I better understood my pacing levels by using it sooner.  But then again, I know the kind of half-marathon pace I ran, and today I was intentionally holding myself back.  I'll keep an eye on this budding hypothesis.

The evening concluded with a Passover Seder at my parents' house in Simi Valley. Long-standing family friends joined us, along with my sister and her boyfriend, and Stephanie, of course.  In the past, I used to be so stressed out about whether my family would accept Steph, what Steph was thinking and feeling, and what I could do to make the situation better.  I cannot express how grateful I am that I don't have to think like that anymore. We all felt like a true family tonight.  A different kind of family, since my grandparents are no longer an active part of our lives.  But I know they would have been so happy at the sight of seeing a new generation of soon-to-be Schneiders experience a traditional family Seder.  It may be a little frenetic, a little crazy and a little off-the-wall.  But our Seder is our Seder, and it's truly one-of-a-kind.

I can honestly say I look forward to family events so much more than I have in the past.  It's nice to share them with the person I had always wanted to.

I am indeed the luckiest.

239 days and counting.

A Race About Friendship

The LA Marathon won't be remembered for my performance.

I finished in 5:11, nearly a full 1.5 hours slower than I had hoped.  Sickness and fatigue shut me down at mile 9, somewhere between the end of Los Angeles and beginning of West Hollywood.    I don't quite remember where, but I remember when.  I was running with my buddy Chris and we both were steadily maintaining a 9:00-mile pace after a quick opening sequence of 8:35-minute miles.  However, as I monitored my heart-rate during the first hour of the run, I realized I was high in zone 5, around 166 bpm.  Something was very wrong, considering I was running slower than anticipated and in a full two heart-rate zones higher.  At that point, we came to the 10-mile water stop and I told Chris to continue ahead without me.  I needed a break.  He said he'd wait, but I knew better.  The race was over for me.

Chris disappeared quickly into the sea of runners.

Even though I was surrounded by people, I felt totally alone.  Dejected.  Defeated.

Angry.

I had trained so damn hard for this moment, nearly five months.  And it was gone in an hour.  Gone.

I tried to jog the next couple miles and watched as my pace slowly deterioriated.  Even with more effort, my times were slowing.  Ten-minute miles became 11.  Eleven minutes became 12.  With each step, I became angrier and more frustrated.

This wasn't fair!  I didn't deserve this!

Then, I remembered those poor kids from the Starlight Foundation.

THAT wasn't fair.

I started to pull it together around mile 13.  But then, I was rounding the corner onto La Cienega from Sunset when I ran into my Fortius teammate, Christina.  She was off to the side, walking.  I knew something terrible was wrong for her too.  Sadly I was right.  She pulled a quad muscle and was done for the day.  She couldn't bend her leg. Tears in her eyes, we hugged.  The day hadn't turned out the way either of has had imagined, and she's got an Ironman in six weeks!  I did my best to console her, and then she was gone.  Crossing the barricades to meet her husband for what must have been a sad ride home.

Again, I was alone.  Strangely, I had come to peace with the race by then.  I calmly resigned myself to two choices: Quit, or finish.

If I quit, nobody would blame me.  I was sick.  I was tired.  I hurt.  But, if I quit during the marathon, maybe I'd quit during the Ironman?

It's like cheating in a relationship.  If you do it once, you are capable of doing it multiple times.  That's not my style.

And there was more to it than that. Now that Stephanie and I are finally together, once and for all, I wanted to show her what I was made of.  What I really was made of.  That no matter how much the pain hurt.  Now matter how tired I was. No matter how I felt, I wouldn't EVER quit on her.   I would never quit on us.

From that moment on, at Santa Monica Boulevard and La Cienega, there was only one thing on my mind: Finish the damn marathon.

The next four miles were rough, but entertaining in a bizarre way.  West Hollywood was festive to say the least.  The crowds were boisterous and the street performances were lively.  The cross-dressing cheerleaders were definitely the highlight.

Then it was onto Beverly Hills.  Here I received a big boost from my friend and co-worker, Jason, and his wife, Jen.  They waited extra long for me to hit Wilshire and Rodeo Drive even though their friends had long past that checkpoint.  They walked a few blocks with me until I turned onto Santa Monica Boulevard again towards Westwood.  Their support and positive encouragement really made me feel good.  Despite my best efforts, I was still pretty dejected about my day.  But they helped put it in perspective that I was still going to finish something special.

Unfortunately, as much of a mental boost as that was, it quickly dissipated.  My body started to lock up and break down around mile 16.  I was walking almost full miles at this point.  I had no ability to run more than a few hundred yards before my heart rate would blow up again.

It was at this point that I saw the best familiar face possible: My longest-tenured friend, Kevin.  I've known Kevin since damn near pre-school. We've played soccer together.  We went to elementary school together.  We went to high school together.  We backpacked Europe together.  We've run half-marathons together.

And now, we've run the LA Marathon together.

Out of 25,000 runners, I literally had run into my best friend!

Kevin was having problems too with his marathon.  His knee was locking up.  And it was at this point I realized what the true point of my first marathon would be: It was a race about friendship.  Whether it was supporting my buddy Chris at the beginning, Christina in the middle, or Kevin in the end, this wasn't about performance.  It was about perspective.  About support.  About friendship.

The rest of the marathon was painful.  My feet felt broken.  My calves were incredibly tight despite wearing compression socks.  My IT band swelled.  But it was OK.  Friends such as Jennifer and Ryan showed their support near the Mormon Temple in Westwood.  Jason and Jen drove down to Brentwood to cheer me on and offer some refreshing coconut water at mile 22.  Stephanie kept me sane and motivated throughout the morning with text messages.  Corey and Maggie texted me telling me they were waiting at the finish line.

How lucky am I?

The final few miles couldn't have progressed more slowly.  My body was totally breaking down.  I'd shuffle a few yards, stop, wait for Kevin, or vice versa, and we'd continue walking. Cursing, but walking.  Questioning, but not quitting.  Never quitting.

FINALLY, the finish line was in sight.  Kevin and I tried to pick up the pace heroically, but all I was doing was searching for Stephanie, or listening for her.  That's all I wanted.  I just wanted to tell her that this race was for her.  That there was no quit in this body.  Not for the race, not for anything.

Kevin saw her first.  He pointed her out and I stopped everything to run across the packed street to give her a huge hug behind the barricade, just 10 yards from the finish.  Apparently my family and friends were right behind her, but honestly I only saw her.  It was a special moment.  All the pain and frustration was worth it.

I finished the LA Marathon, arm around Kevin.  We did it.

I will run better marathons.  I will set more personal bests.  But I don't know if I'll ever have an experience as special as my first marathon.  And I owe it to my friends.  To my family, including my parents who woke up so early after flying across the country the evening before.  To my sister and her boyfriend, who showed up just in time for the finish after having friends in town to entertain.

And, surprisingly, to the residents of Los Angeles, who lined the streets for nearly the entire route supporting us crazy marathoners.  I may not have acknowledged all of them, but I sure did hear them and appreciate their presence.  This city sure is beautiful when it wants to be.

Like the Randy Newman song, I love LA.

And today, I paid the price during recovery.  I left work early due to exhaustion even though I slept nearly 10 hours last night.  I'm still coughing up all sorts of stuff, and my legs are stiff and achey.

But it's a good kind of pain.

The kind associated with finishing something I started.

246 days and counting.

Calmness Pervades

I've spent so much time counting down to the Ironman that the LA Marathon snuck up on me.  Even with counting down every single day starting the beginning of the November. How'd that happen?

No matter, I'm glad it did.  As a result both of looking ahead to November 2010 and my current sickness, I find myself incredibly calm hours before the marathon.  I just returned from dinner with my friends from as far back as elementary school.  It was a pre-race carb-loading meal at Bucca di Beppo. (A small note on that: Do not go there when you want a quiet evening of conversation and reflection.  Bedlam!  Not good for a sore throat.)  Even my friends were surprised at how mellow I was at the meal.  I blame the meds.  I've been taking Sudafed nasal decongestant throughout the day, and was lucky enough to catch two naps in between meals.  More like I needed two naps due to the fatigue.  Even now, I feel a little spacey.

I'm tired.  If there wasn't a marathon to be run tomorrow, I'd probably take the day off from training.  No matter, especially after seeing those amazing children and teens last night at the Starlight Charity event.

I know I can finish the marathon tomorrow.  I've put in the training.  I've done the hill climbs.  I've ran in the rain and the mud.  I've run 14 miles before the start of a 10k race .

No matter how I feel when I wake up tomorrow, I am ready.

Ready for the pain.  The fatigue.  The crowds.  The elation.  The beauty of the city and support of its inhabitants.

I'm ready for all of it.

I'm ready to check off a lifelong goal -- to complete a marathon -- off my proverbial "Bucket List."  I never thought I'd see this day because of my asthma, IT band tightness, flat feet and bad back.  But here I am, ready to compete.  Ready to run. Ready to do my best.

And no matter what, it will be a personal best marathon time!  (Though, to be honest, I'm shooting for 3:45-3:55 as my goal timeframe.)

Ready.

And now, ready to sleep.

When I write tomorrow, I will have completed my first marathon.  That's pretty damn cool.

1 day and counting, part of the journey towards 248 days and counting.

A Healthy Dose of Perspective

Y'all are probably as sick of hearing about me being sick as I am writing about it. Don't worry, I'm shutting my mouth...err... banning my fingers from typing anything to that effect.

Here's why. I had the true pleasure of attending a charity gala tonight with Stephanie and a few work colleagues on behalf of the Starlight Foundation, an organization dedicated to helping kids in hospitals with severe health issues.  The company I work for is a very proud sponsor of Starlight, donating NintendoWii Fun Centers to hospitals for kids to enjoy DVD and video games entertainment when they are confined to their rooms or beds.

After being reminded throughout the evening about the good work Starlight does, a head cold two days before a marathon means nothing by comparison.  I have functional legs.  I am grateful for that.  My organs work.  I am grateful for that.  My health issues are not life threatening.  I am grateful for that.

Normally, I'd say the highlight of any evening would be meeting Mr. T, which happened tonight along with my pal and colleague John (pictured).  For the record, Mr. T couldn't have been more gracious, considering I goaded him into his trademark phrases when I told him "You ain't so bad!"

What a dream come true for a life-long A-Team and Rocky fan!

But that really wasn't the highlight.  And I'm somewhat surprised to even admit that.  The real highlight came in the form of hearing a love-affair story of two kids in Starlight who met through their teen connect program, Starbright World.  Both kids had little to hold onto in terms of dealing with the difficulties of their situations.  Until they met each other. And befriended each other. Supported each other. Nurtured and nursed each other.  And ultimately began dating.  Now, a few years later, they got engaged.  Today.  Before the Starlight event.  It was such a touching story and moment.

Even before the gala I was planning to run on Sunday, no matter how I feel.  But now, I'm running not just for myself, but for the idea that so many other people -- kids especially -- suffer every day with so much more and have dreams even bigger than my own.  And my dreams are big!  I owe it to them to fulfill my own dreams because I have a healthy body and mind that allows me to do so.  No excuses.  I am grateful for everything I have in my life, everything around me, and grateful to even have the opportunity to run this marathon come Sunday.

I'm a very lucky guy.

249 days and counting.

Not What I Expected

I am still not feeling well.  My throat is improving but still sore -- though sipping bitter ginger tea the past 24 hours has definitely helped.  I'm fatigued and my neck is still tight despite Abby's magical hands.  I'm coughing junk up from my lungs. But, I was able to log a hassle-free-but-sweaty one-hour spin on my bike trainer this morning. No pain, no problems.

The LA Marathon is in three days.

At this point, I have no idea what to expect.

I thought I'd be better by now. I figured my health, nutrition, training, mental outlook and all the factors that go into effective race preparation would help me.  Instead, I'm exhausted.

Maybe I can get that magical good night's sleep tonight that will put me over the edge towards a final recovery.  After a yoga/stretching session that I'm about to begin shortly within the comfort of my bedroom, I will take a hot bath and immediately go to sleep.  With the help of some melatonin and possibly head cold medicine.  At least that's the plan.

I wish I had something more positive or upbeat to discuss. The truth is, I'm nervous.  Quiet.  Tired.  Pensive.  Shifty. This isn't how things are supposed to go days before my first marathon.

I'm still planning to run the race.  But now I'm also planning to bring my cell phone in case I can't continue on the route for some reason.  I hope to erase the need by Sunday.

Right now, I don't know what to expect.

I can only hope for the best.

250 days and counting.

PS: For those of you who are running the LA Marathon with me, I enjoyed this Los Angeles Times article about whether it's truly faster to drive the marathon route in rush-hour traffic or run it during the marathon.  It's funny and sad because it's true.  There are some good running tips embedded throughout the piece as well.  Enjoy!

T-Minus 4 Days and Nervous

My recovery from the GDC "nerd flu" is literally becoming a race against time. Coach Gerardo was hoping I'd be better by today.  He thought two days would be sufficient for a full recovery if I rested and hydrated enough.  We're headed into the fourth day and while my body is adjusting back to the beginnings of normalcy, I'm just not feeling great yet.  Despite my massage therapist Abby's best efforts, I'd put my condition as an 8 on a scale of 10.  My neck isn't as sore as last night and I've gained some mobility, but my throat is still scratchy and raw.  Worse yet, I've started coughing up phlegm.  Nasty stuff too, of the fluorescent and mocha-colored variety.

All of this is starting to get me worried.  I've got four more days to be 100% healthy and ready for my first marathon.  If what is now a head cold seeps into my chest, I'm all but finished for the marathon before it starts.

Not all of today's news was poor. In fact, I was being able to run without any side effects for 45 minutes.  My lone workout called for an hour staying within heart-rate zone 1, which was no problem -- even running up to 6 mph for five minutes without approaching 140 bpm.  (I had to cut short the workout due to a busy day at work.) That's definitely a good sign, so much so that by the end of the workout I didn't really need to shower before changing since I hadn't broken a major sweat.

Tomorrow, I'm spinning for an hour and 15 minutes and then doing an hour of yoga in the evening.  That's the plan. At this point though, I've learned that plans don't necessarily matter.  It's what you do and how you act when reality presents itself to you, ready or not.

251 days and counting.

7 Days til the Marathon and I'm Sick!

I've heard of this phenomenon and was hoping it wouldn't happen to me.  Coach Gerardo told me recently that coming down with an illness in the days leading to a big race typically happens about two weeks in advance.  And it's perfectly normal. Surprise!  I'm sick.  And a giant blitzkrieg at that.

But instead of a fortnight, I've got seven days to rest, hydrate and make sure I don't lose my physical or mental edge before the LA Marathon.

Crap.

The achey body, sore throat, watery, itchy eyes and hot-to-the-touch skin all struck at once -- about five hours after an otherwise uneventful trail run at Chesebero Park around 9 this morning.  In fact, I did very well on the 30-minute tempo portion, clocking sub-8:00 miles and never exceeding an 8:15 pace.  That said, my plantar fasciitis is acting up on the arch of my left foot, to the point where I could barely walk the rest of the day.

I'm definitely getting worried.  I feel like I'm starting to fall apart.  I suppose it was bound to happen after pushing myself so hard the past few months. Or after a few days of shaking hands with all types of folks at the video games conference. (I even used Purell an ungodly amount of times, what gives!?) But one week before the race? Really?

(Fortunately, all this happened before our afternoon of engagement ring shopping, which went really well!  More details another time when I know she's not reading over my shoulder.)

As Stephanie can tell you though (or my parents), I'm a bit dramatic when I don't feel well.  In fact, can you feel Steph's eye-roll?  Perhaps it's because I'm so used to being in good health that it accentuates my pathetic-ness when those rare moments occur.  Maybe it's because I watched too much Ferris Bueller's Day Off and identified more with Cameron growing up.  Either way, thank goodness for Steph tonight.  She's taking good care of me with Canter's matzah ball soup, lots of herbal tea and cold medicine.  I'm a lucky dude.

To be safe tomorrow, I'm taking the day off work.  I need to rest and sleep as much as possible to beat this with enough time to resume my training pre-race.  It literally is a race against time, and I hope my body is up for the task.

Come on, Ry.  Don't fail me now.

And Ferris, wherever you are, don't even think of calling me.  I so will NOT pick up.

"When Ryan was in Egypt's land...LET MY RYAN GO!!!"

254 days and counting.