Here Comes Hanukkah!

I finally had a chance to celebrate Hanukkah tonight with my family. It's the last night, so the anticipation had gradually built up all week. As a kid, this was the time where I'd get that one special gift, that one thing that I had been hoping and praying for all season long. The GI Joe hovercraft, for example (man, I coveted that!). In past years, it's closer to underwear and socks as a running joke in the fam, but I always get something I really want or need.

Tonight was no different. My sister and her boyfriend were kind enough to pool their resources and buy me the Surge h20 waterproof headphones and armband combo. As we all know, few things become more repetitive and mind-numbing than lap swimming. At least my rockin' tunes might help shake up the workouts a bit.

My parents apparently have been reading my blog as they bought me a trainer climber for my front wheel and a sweat guard for the head set and frame. And believe me, I really need that! I also received a few shekels toward buying a new watch computer. I'm leaning towards the Garmin 305 at this point. There are some great deals on Amazon.

Maybe the best gift of the night though was the most nostalgic. My parents recently bought a device that records vinyls and converts them to discs or MP3 files. They have a huge collection of records that span from the Beatles and Dylan to Tchaikovsky and in this particular instance, Peter and the Wolf. This story was one of my all-time favorites as a child, so much so that at a Hollywood Bowl live performance with Henry Winkler (The Fonz) serving as narrator, I shouted at him from my seat when he strayed from the script to ad lib. I was 3.

Maybe I can listen to that with the new headphones while doing my pyramid sets on Sunday.

Tomorrow in about nine hours, I've got a casual 2:30-3:30 ride with Valley Coach. Frank Lafuente, my cycling mentor, is joining me. We're riding at 8 a.m. at the Starbucks off Malibu Canyon Road and Agoura Road, if you're local, actually read this blog, and would like to join. We're keeping heart-rate in zone 2 for most of the ride so it should be a nice steady pace.

Happy Hanukkah for me indeed, and I wish the same to all my friends in the virtual world reading this.

340 days and counting.

Meet the Shan Clan!

Unless you're totally insane, you don't just wake up one day and decide that you can do an Ironman within a year.

You need some prior experience. A foundation.

The "Shan Clan" built my foundation.

In 2007, I was a little overweight. I was out of shape. I wasn't very happy with myself.

Shannan Lynch (pictured, left) turned all that around. Shannan runs the gym in my office building complex. But Shannan isn't just a manager. She's got degrees in virtually every relevant subject for fitness and nutrition. She's trained professional athletes and celebrities. And she's probably the fastest girl I've ever known, routinely earning podium finishes in any kind of running event she enters.

Over the course of nearly two years, Shannan whipped me into shape and changed my nutrition habits. She used a variety of equipment and training regimens to do so. Everything from traditional dumbells, barbells, balance boards and Bosu balls to resistance bands and step platforms. And no two workouts were exactly alike, so Shannan managed to keep me mentally engaged while my muscles were constantly worked in new ways during our twice-a-week sessions.

Thanks to Shannan, I went from barely being able to run a 5k to completing my first triathlon. I also dropped 20 pounds.

Then, in early 2009, Shannan changed responsibilities and became more of a full-time fitness center manager. My training didn't skip a beat though because of another Shan...Shannon Flanagan.

Shannon and I have a great time training together, and she's every bit of a badass as Shannan (I'd like to see them race in a 100-yard dash!). She's a heck of a spin class instructor too! Shannon puts me through my paces, doesn't let me whine (too much) and we're pretty much always laughing. Our weekly training sessions are among my personal highlights for the week. More important, my event results improved steadily throughout 2009, and Shannon was very in-tune with helping me modify the workouts to maximize performance during triathlon season.

The "Shan Clan" has put me in a position to go after the Ironman. I can't thank them enough.

***

Today was my off-day. It came at the right time. A hot bath, 10.5 hours sleep and a day of no physical activity later, I'm ready for action tomorrow.

Depending on the severity of the rain, it's either a morning bike ride and a swim to follow, or a swim and spin if it's stormy. Looking forward to both.

347 days and counting.

Into the Wild

Day Four of two-a-day sessions. I'm starting to feel the burn.

The backs of my knees are tight, as are my glutes. But I'm sleeping really well at night, despite Trudy and Bam-Bam's best efforts.

This morning started off strong. I was supposed to run outside for 45 minutes doing cadence drills and skipping. But, it was 43 degrees (though the sky was crystal clear blue) and I was having none of that. Still, I completed the workout in the office campus gym's wood-floored dance/yoga room and on the treadmill. The session consisted of six, 30 left-foot steps in 19-20-second inverals followed by 60 skips (30 each leg) and a Zone 1 treadmill cool-down. Aside from looking like a complete ass (why should this day be any different?!), the session was more challenging than I expected. But I felt pretty solid at the end.

The session's highlight came via my iPod when I rediscovered one of my favorite inspirational songs from the past couple years: "Big Hard Sun" by Eddie Vedder from the Into the Wild soundtrack. (BTW, I highly recommend reading the book. It's a quick, powerful read that straddles the essence of purity of purpose and utter insanity. Not too far off from training for an Ironman, I suppose.)

It was the perfect song for today. Cold. Alone. Passionate. Silent. Strong. I listened to it at least five times in a row.

The second workout occurred today at 5 p.m. I'm lucky to have a job that is both supportive of my personal goals and respectful of work-life balance. I was able to duck out of the office and head to the YMCA-Burbank to check out their indoor pool. I knew I'd make it back into work to make up the hours, and the pool closed at 6. Win-win scenario.

The problem with the Y's Burbank pool is that it's only 20 yards long, so you have to re-calibrate your regimen. For instance, you have to remember that 100 yards is five laps instead of the usual four. Given that I'm not the best at math and that I was running short on time, I missed the prescribed 2,600 yards of swimming by roughly 600 yards. Still, I swam a mile and accomplished most of the workout. Here was the breakout:

-- 200 yard warm-up (supposed to do 300)
-- 4 x 100 yards easy swim (skip)
-- 4 x 150 yard kick, drill, swim (check)
-- 3 x 200 yards moderate swim (check)
-- 8 x 50 yards fast (check)
-- 200 easy swim cool-down (supposed to do 300)

Man, was I hungry after! Killed an entire Baja Fresh Burrito Mexicano and probably will have a protein shake when I get home from the office, where I'm writing this entry after wrapping up the day's work.

And then I get to do another double tomorrow. Spin and upper body lifting.

Right now that sounds about as fun as getting lost in the wilderness with no way out.

Then again, after less than two weeks into my Ironman training, that's sort of how I feel already.

I'm clearly deep into the wild.

350 days and counting.

Meet Frank, My Mentor

Do you have a mentor? Not the work kind, but more like a training mentor? Not like Lance Armstrong (though that would be awesome), but more like someone who makes you just a little bit better every time you train.

For me, that person is Frank (pictured). Funnily enough, I work with Frank as well, and I've learned from him inside the office too. Not just about work either, but about everything from how the brain works to Spanish culture and even the history of the Tour de France, among many other topics.

But this isn't a blog about cubicles, meetings, brainstorming, paradigm shifts or any other corporate-sounding crap.

Frank is a fantastic cyclist. He's had the great fortune of growing his skills in the Swiss Alps as well as Austin, Texas. In other words, the dude can climb. And he's not one of these small, gazelle-like climbers that you see wearing the polka-dot jersey in the Tour de France. (No, I'm not saying you're fat, Frank!) I get a special kick out of watching Frank obliterate unsuspecting (and pompous) cyclists up and down the many hills that dot the Malibu Canyon area. They generally have no idea what just passed them.

Each weekend for almost a year now, I've had the privilege of cycling with Frank. He's taught me how to get the most out of my body during long climbs. He's taught me to recognize when my right foot is pointing inward on my pedal stroke. He's taught me to trust my bike more, too, though that went a little too far this past April when I turned my first road bike into a mountain bike as I flew off the road in Santa Susana Pass in Simi Valley. That wasn't Frank's fault though, as I was trying too hard to keep up with someone with 20 years of cycling experience and didn't have enough understanding or appreciation of physics, gravity and the importance of taking a proper line.

Plus, we all know that there are two kinds of cyclists: Those who have crashed and those who haven't crashed yet.

I rode with Frank today on a leisurely but brisk (56 degrees) and windy (cross-winds nearly the whole way) 2:12 stroll from Northridge to Calabasas and back. Details here: http://www.mapmyride.com/ride/united-states/ca/granada-hills/559126013868457000

I maintained a steady average HR of 129, which was the goal (staying in Zone 2 for at least 50% of the ride). Frank was great about supporting my ride goals and not dropping me, as he can often do. Since I'm a sucker for peer pressure, I really appreciated the assist.

No matter how hard Frank pushes me, he always helps me improve. And no matter how badly he wants to open up the throttle and pedal hard the entire ride, he always holds back and waits for me to catch up.

That's the definition of a teacher. A friend. And a mentor.

***

After my ride, my workout was only half-way complete. I was supposed to swim for 45 minutes at a cadence of 44-45 strokes per minute. I haven't been in a pool for at least two weeks and therefore expected to do much worse.

Turns out that hopping in the pool is kinda like remember how to ride a bicycle.

Despite some general rustiness that might be attributed to ride fatigue or lactic-muscle build-up, the swim was pleasant and rewarding. I typically was in the 43-46 strokes-per-minute range, though I did get down to 39 once by using my legs a lot more. I have a feeling though that's a bad idea come Ironman time. But, I'm sure I'll learn more as I go.

Maybe I need a swimming mentor?

352 days and counting.

Freshman, Triathlon Tech University

Waking up this morning sucked. And it wasn't even before 7!

Quick note: I've got the Upstairs Neighbors from Hell. You'll be hearing about the inconsiderate mother and her 3-year-old son from time-to-time, like now, for instance. I'll call the mom "Trudy" and the son "Bam-Bam." Imagine hearing an earthquake directly above your head any time between 5:30-7:30 a.m. and it continuing intermittently throughout the day until 9:30 p.m. 24/7/365. Yep, that's my life. Which is a blessing and a curse since A) it gets me out of bed early to train but B) I'm constantly suffering from a lack of quality rest, evidenced typically by puffy raccoon eyes.

This morning was no different, although I tried a new tactic where I slept on the couch in my living room to avoid the usual bedroom barrage. That bought me until 6:30...when Bam-Bam ran full-steam into the living room and sailed across the floor in his tricycle. "FML," as they say.

Needless to say, I wasn't my usual energetic self when I put my car in auto-pilot and headed to Old Agoura and the Cheseboro Park trails off, well, Cheseboro. I met up with my coach, Gerrardo (pictured), and my fellow teammates -- most of whom I was meeting for the first time. It felt like the first day of school, except for once I was starring as the strange new kid.

We were to run 10-12 miles, which I hadn't done since the Agoura Half-Marathon in March 2008. The most I had run since then was nine miles, and that was just last week in Central Park (Reservoir loop 4tw!). But here was the catch, we were going to run at a 10:00 pace and keep our heart rates below 150bpm. And, we were trail running, which I hadn't really done before to this degree. Nevertheless, it seemed easy enough, I figured, as I have been used to training the old-fashioned way: Progressively killing myself a bit more with each workout until my body demanded a rest day. Apparently, that's not the best way to train. Wish I had gotten that memo sooner.

I started off fine for the first few miles. Heart rate was low and I was keeping up with this seasoned group of triathletes that included prior Ironman finishers and a pair of speedy sprinting sisters. I even had the audacity to remark that this was the easiest run I had ever been on.

Whoops.

Gradually, Gerrardo and gang pulled away. It seems that their speed at 150bpm is slightly greater than mine. By a wide margin. But I kept at it, meandering alone (about a minute behind) through the cold, dusty hills that still manage to showcase their beauty despite being the highest brush fire hazard imaginable.

My tardiness turned out to be a blessing in disguise as I entered a creekbed to find a deer and her little Bambi grazing quietly about 20 yards away. Mama deer and I locked eyes and had a brief staring contest before Mama realized I wasn't worth paying further attention to. She went on with her meal and I continued my steady-as-she-goes jaunt.

While this was the high point of my morning, a moment of Zen amidst about two-and-a-half hours of peaceful contemplation, the low point occurred 80% through the run when I failed my first test administered by Professor Gerrardo. After 9.5 miles, we came to a literal fork in the road, at which point I was given the option of heading back to the car with a respectable 10 miles under my belt, or sucking it up for 2.5 more miles to make it an even 12.

I may have been sore, but my heart rate was holding between 149-152 and I had more in the tank. I wanted to show these folks they weren't dealing with a softie. I wasn't a total noob.

Wrong answer.

The final stretch was almost entirely uphill, to the point where I had to walk most of it to keep my HR in Zone 2. When we reached the top of the first crest, I called out to Gerrardo and playfully chided him for not telling me about the ascents. To which he responded, "that's because you failed your first test of triathlon training: peer pressure."

And so, on my first official run with the ValleyCoach.com crew, I was taken to school.

I'm now a true freshman at Triathlon Tech University, and a victim of some light-hearted hazing.

But I ran two more miles than expected, and although the back of my left knee is sore and I've got a blister or two on my toes, I'm in good spirits.

Hazing never felt better.

359 days and counting.

It Begins

It is Friday night. It's 10:11 p.m. I'm in my bed, blogging. Most people are getting ready to go out for a night on the town. I'm 35 and not yet married, living 20 minutes from Hollywood. I should probably be doing the same.

Instead, I'm on the verge of sleep so I can get up early tomorrow to run 10-12 miles. After cycling 50 today from Agoura to Malibu by way of Westlake, Newbury Park, and PCH (where the image above was taken by fellow triathlete and all-around fantastic human being, Anat). After cycling 20 yesterday, on Thanksgiving, and cross training with my personal trainer and friend, Shannon, the day before that.

It's all with a bigger goal in mind. One in particular. What business author Tom Peters calls a Big, Hairy, Audacious Goal, or B.H.A.G.

Ironman.

Just typing those words makes my stomach churn just a bit. I was one of the lucky (crazy?) folks able to register for Ironman Arizona 2010 before it sold out in 25 minutes. And since this past Monday at 11 a.m. Pacific time, I've been wondering if I made the right decision.

I thought I was in good shape, until Wednesday night. That's when I met Gerrardo, my new triathlon coach. I've competed in seven triathlons so far, including three Olympic distance events. I typically finish as high as top 10% to 50% of the field. I train six days a week, up to 10-12 hours per week. But Gerrardo indicated that my training will need to increase substantially over the next year, as in closer to 20 hours a week by this summer. And, I'll need a new triathlon bike as well...this after I bought a 2008 Colnago Extreme Power earlier this year thinking it would be the last bike I'd ever have to buy. Fail.

(Nobody told me in advance that this sport is such a money pit!)

Yet I can't get enough. I'm compelled to rise out of bed early each morning to push myself harder than the day before, just by a little bit. But I often do it by myself, running lonely streets, swimming solitary laps and going on long bike rides with a handful of training partners.

That's where I hope you come in. Am I doing this alone? Am I the lone Iron(mad)man out there? Am I the only one wondering every morning "Why the hell am I getting out of a perfectly warm bed to beat myself up before (and sometimes after) work?"

I'm looking forward to chronicling this journey towards Ironman 2010. I want to capture those lonely training sessions, the quiet milestones checked off the list, the tune-up events, the lapses and maybe even a podium finish (or two?). I want to have something tangible at the end of the finish line on November 21, 2010 besides the obvious finishers medal, jersey, photos, etc.

I want to relive the memories one day. I want to show my kids (when I have them!) what can be accomplished if you put your mind, body and spirit into something that seems impossible. A B.H.A.G. I hope I inspire others to accomplish their own big-ass goals. And I want to share the experience with anyone who might be mad enough to come along for the ride.

I'm Ryan Schneider. I'm the Iron(mad)man...in training.

360 days and counting.

PS: I'm waiting for a more official website to be built, so this will be my temporary home until then. I'll keep y'all posted with details. I also have a nifty logo that I'll be sharing shortly, thanks to my buddy and amazing web developer/user experience guru, Ward.