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.

So Close...

My new website is almost ready! It was supposed to be launched today but it's still propagating across the interwebs as we speak. Can you hear it trickling about?

I'm going to give you the first sneak peek, since you few, kind souls have been hanging out with me since the first blog way back in November.

Point your browser to http://ironmadman.com. And welcome to my new home for the rest of the year!

Of course, the official site will be http://www.ironmadman.com. But it's still pointing to my web designer Ward's company page.

I hope to be blogging from the new location as early as tomorrow.

Let me know what you think. After all, you're my dedicated core and if you don't like the site, then I didn't do my job.

***

Today has been a little screwy with the schedule. I woke up early enough to fit in a 2,450-yard swim at Calabasas Tennis & Swim Center but haven't been able to rally for the bike portion of my workout. The day got away from me, plain and simple.

Now, when I have the time to squeeze a trainer session in, I'm online blogging instead. I have a bike/run brick tomorrow and I'm going to conserve energy for that. Besides, I enjoyed a massage today at work (yep, it's not called one of the Best Places to Work in America for nothing!). Why mess with my peaceful state of being by torturing myself on the trainer for an hour?

I just can't do it tonight.

I'm learning more and more that the only way to fit in my workouts is either to do them in the morning before work or at lunch. Evening workouts and I haven't found a way to get along yet.

For now, the thing that I get along with best at night is sleep, which is where I'll be heading soon.

294 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.

I See You

I had an "a-ha!" moment in training today. Not necessarily a good one, mind you, but incredibly important nonetheless.

Halfway through my 2.5-hour run around Brentwood/Santa Monica early this morning, I was informed by Coach Gerardo that I have been confusing heart-rate zones. I've been using my bike HR parameters on my runs as well as the bike. That would explain why I've been feeling like I'm going slower than my compatriots during our training runs. I was chaining myself unnecessarily to a much lower beats per minute count (by a factor of nearly 10 bpm).

Oh.

The second half of my run today was much better, needless to say! Now, I think I may have a shot at beating my personal best half-marathon time last year (1:50:10). I'll get the chance to find out next week in Huntington Beach at the Surf City Half-Marathon. Now, I can't wait.

After finishing the 15-mile run and a Governator sighting (driving a red convertible Hummer with Secret Service vehicles in tow), I sped home to get ready for my parents' 40th wedding anniversary lunch. My sister and I were co-hosting, and as the clock ticked down to T-minus 1 hour, I had images of showing up breathless and stinky because of the typically horrendous 405/101 Freeway traffic.

Fortunately, these fears didn't materialize and we had a fantastic afternoon of reminiscing with my parents' friends. The most poignant moment, for me, was my mom's toast to my dad. She actually quoted Avatar, which I'm still wrapping my head around, and the way the N'avi say "I see you" to each other as a way of identifying with the other's soul.

I'm preparing for bed now (big bike ride tomorrow a.m.) after hanging out with my sister and her boyfriend. I'm absolutely sure they will have a terrific life together because they "see" each other clearly.

One day, I will see someone too. And they will see me. But I am honored that I've had relationships where I've clearly "seen" a special someone, and they've seen me too. I look forward to that day again, and am fortunate to have two parents remain together through many ups and downs over the years to show me what that statement really means in the terrestrial world.

Right now though, I'm seeing my bed. And it's seein' me.

Happy Anniversary, mom and dad.

298 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.

Calm Before the Storm

Forget all this triathlon stuff for a second.

I'd like to point out that I correctly predicted the Super Bowl match-ups. That doesn't happen often, even though I listen to sports talk radio during my morning commute and my TV should have the SportsCenter logo burned into the screen by now. So, when I actually get something right like sports picks, I gotta gloat just a little!

OK, now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

I had a "leisurely" brick workout today. Leisurely because there were no Fortius group runs or bike sessions, meaning I could actually try to sleep in a little (which I needed after a fun night out last night at my new favorite local hangout, the Blue Dog Tavern). Today's scheduled included a one-hour running time-trial, followed by a one-hour swim featuring two sets of six 100-yard intervals with descending finish times.

This time, like my Super Bowl picks (last time, I promise), I got the time-trial right. My lactate threshold for the latter 20 minutes of the 30-minute run was 168 bpm, which was 13 beats faster than my TT earlier this week. This time, I ran harder while staying within the limits of zone 4 instead of zone 3.

My reward? New HR zones, courtesy of Coach Gerardo. Not by much, but a couple minor adjustments.

My pace was somewhat troublesome. I ran 9:05-minute miles. I know I'm faster than that and I've run much faster in actual races (anywhere from 7:30-8-minute miles). But, I guess I need to keep trusting this "slower is faster" mantra and believe that in the Surf City Half Marathon in a few weeks I'll be faster. It should be a good test.

The swim was terrific. I didn't feel winded except for the two final 100s at the end of each interval set, when I was trying to reach my 2:05 threshold-pace. I hit them each time, but I was pushing a little to get there. At the end of the workout though, I felt relaxed and refreshed -- comfortable knowing I could go for longer if I needed to.

That's probably the biggest difference my training has made over the past two months. I can tackle more training and not feel nearly as tired, sore or winded the next day.

The rest of the day has been relaxing and leisurely. Though as I lay in bed typing, it seems like I spent a good portion of it racing around town trying to get chores done before for the next series of storms hits Los Angeles on Tuesday. I did laundry, got gas, picked up groceries, paid bills, cleaned my bike... and even managed to watch an entire NFL football game. Believe it or not, I've rarely done that this entire summer, fall and winter, thanks to the training schedule.

Surprisingly, that last part hasn't bothered me really at all. I've noticed something different this year about myself. As I grow older, I've realized that I can either sit at home watching other people do amazing things on television, or I can go out and try to do amazing things myself. And when you realize what amazing feats your body is capable of -- which I firmly believe is true for all of us, watching TV becomes less and less appealing.

Maybe that's why in marketing the coveted 18-34 year-old demographic ends at 34 and not 35.

And with that, I kill the lights and call it a weekend.

304 days and counting.

Time Trial Fail

I screwed up today.

I hate screwing up.

It was a time-trial run day; one hour total with 30 minutes of going as hard as my body could sustain consistently. I didn't quite grasp that last point. Instead, I tried to maintain an even pace where I knew I had fuel left in the proverbial tank, and so my heart-rate was at a low zone 4 (154-168 bpm) by the end of the run.

For most of the 30 minutes, I ran at an even pace between 6.0-6.3 mph, and my heart rate was typically in zone 3 (142-154 bpm). I felt great. The run was pretty easy, in fact. I had a lot more fuel left to burn, which I thought was the point going in. Like yesterday's swim trial. I felt so good that I felt guilty there wasn't a second workout today.

I suppose that should have been a sign that something was amiss.

Coach Gerardo wanted me to run harder. He was surprised that my speed was so low and that my heart-rate average for the 20-minute monitored portion was 155 bpm.

Apparently, I screwed up.

Did I mention I hate screwing up?

Now, I'm re-doing my time trial this Sunday. It's like doing homework over again because you screwed up so bad (there's that phrase again!) that the teacher wants you to start from scratch.

Ugh!

The rest of the day matched my mood following that notification. Damp. Dreary. Blah. (You can see for yourself in the image above, my view today from our Burbank-based offices.) And then to top it off, I read my dad's blog post about being average. Arrgh! However, today was momentous in that I celebrated my sixth-year anniversary working at my company. My job is fantastic. It allows me to grow the position the way I deem fit, while growing my career in exciting new ways. It's challenging, rewarding and flat-out fun. And it gives me the opportunity to train for Ironman guilt-free.

In this economy and at this point in my life, I never lose sight of how lucky I am.

Tomorrow, I'm swimming at the crack of dawn again. This time in Westwood at Equinox with my friend Anat. We both have swims planned, so why not do it together, we figured. With this drippy weather, we need all the motivation we can muster to get out of bed so early.

308 days and counting.

Oh-Dark Thirty...

My day started off about as early as I can handle, yet I have plenty of energy to sit awake and type all about it now. That's rare for me. I'm usually exhausted by bedtime. Not tonight.

For a change, I awoke ahead of Bam-Bam, meaning 5:30 a.m. I promised my Fortius teammate and friend, Lisa, that I'd do my swim time trial with her. And I really didn't want to flake. Considering it wasn't raining (yet), I had no excuse.

Surprisingly, swimming smoothly as the sky silently becomes light is a beautiful way to wake up. I think I may do it more often. There's something calming about the teal pool water being lit from below while the sky turns from black, to gray, to purple, to blue. All while the steam from below and fog from above swirl together in a hazy mating ritual.

The time trial itself demonstrated one thing and one thing only: If nothing else, I am consistent in the pool right now. Five weeks ago, I swam 1,000 yards in 20:50. Today, I swam 1,000 yards in 20:50. What are the chances of that happening? Probably pretty good for a guy who knows just when to call California Chicken Cafe in Encino when driving from Burbank to pick up my food just as I walk inside the restaurant. When it comes to timing, I have a tendency to operate like clockwork.

But what does this mean? Why didn't I see improvement in five weeks? Or didn't I? I was able to negative split my swim, so the second 500 yards was faster than the first. This didn't happen my first time, but I was only off by two seconds then. This time, it was a bit more pronounced. Is that progress?

Or is progress measured by feeling comfortable in the water? By feeling strong enough to even consider a negative split at the 500-yard mark?

Is progress measured not in seconds but rather by swimming smarter right now, not harder?

I would like to think so.

The rest of the day and evening has been a blur. More to report than I have time to share. Among the highlights, I had a contractor visit my condo to write an estimate for sound-proofing the ceiling. Wow. For the estimated price of remodeling my kitchen, I can have an insulated condo -- with no full guarantee it will eliminate the noise problem. A sizable noise problem, according to the contractor. Further, I got into a nice, heated confrontation with Trudy via phone because the contractor asked me to inquire if her hardwood floors had cork insulation (they do).

We had what some might call a failure to communicate.

Fortunately, the Fortius group brought me back to my Happy Place(TM). We had a group yoga session tonight at Topham Street Gym. It was nice to see everyone in non-cycling, non-running or non-swimming attire. We looked, well, normal! The session was intense but not overpowering. A good precursor to my time-trial run tomorrow a.m.

After the run, the group went for vegan Vietnamese food in Reseda. I was hesitant at first because after my awful-tasting Vega supplement, I was about finished with this vegan lifestyle. Especially considering that I can pretty much eat whatever I want right now within reason! But, I have to admit that this meal rocked! I ordered udon barbecue "chicken" that tasted outstanding. I have leftovers that I can't wait to dive into tomorrow.

Who knows, maybe I'll even put on a pound by then!

All in all, it was a great day. A busy day. A productive day. An insightful day. A satisfying day spent with friends.

A day I'd like to repeat.

309 days and counting.

Diet Right

Few things cut to the core of my insecurities more than when someone tells me I look too thin, or worse yet, "skinny." It brings me back to my younger days when I was downright bony and didn't feel very attractive or confident.

So, the other night when Anat's mom thought my face looked thin compared to the last time she saw me, I got worried.

"Am I gaunt?"

"Am I over-training?"

"Am I hurting myself?"

"Will ladies think I'm unattractive?"

Yes, these are the thoughts that run through my head like a cable car busted loose off the tracks. I'm almost embarrassed to admit it in a public setting, but if a blog can't be a place for honest, introspective communication then what's the point of writing at all?

Fortunately, I already had arranged a meeting with a nutritionist for tonight to analyze my food intake and how I can enhance my performance.

I'm even more fortunate that my nutritionist, Yasmin, is my next-door neighbor. (No, this is not Trudy and Bam-Bam above me!)

The verdict? When it comes to my nutrition, Yasmin said I'm doing everything, literally everything right. She even asked me if I had met with a nutritionist in the past because she was so surprised.

Nope, I've never met with a nutritionist. But, considering I've taken fitness at least somewhat seriously since I was 18, I suppose nearly 18 years of experience since then qualifies me as knowing how to take good care of myself. The proof? Yasmin thought I was 28 years old, and was shocked to learn I'm 35.

Flattery is a very good business strategy.

Needless to say, I'm quite pleased. I'm consuming the right amount of calories (3,000-3,800), within the correct ratio of proteins, carbohydrates and fats (1/3, 1/3, 1/3) from the right foods and supplements (grains, chicken, greens, fruits, etc.). And if I want to gain a few extra pounds, I can start by drinking a milkshake a week from Mel's Diner, which is practically across the street from me.

Strawberry shake, here I come!

Perhaps the best part of the night though was hanging out with Yasmin and her husband, Tomer, after our meeting. We watched the Lakers game and generally fired up what I hope will become a lasting friendship. Tomer is considering a triathlon and I'm trying to convince him to attempt the Hermosa Day at the Beach sprint triathlon this October. I think it's a fantastic starter event for anyone considering the sport (1/4 mile swim, 10-mile bike, three-mile run).

Now, I'm off to sleep since I need to be up in less than eight hours for a 6 a.m. swim in Calabasas. I promised one of my Fortius teammates, Lisa, that I'd join her for an early session, which will be a threshold-pace test. I'm actually a little nervous! As long as there's no lightning, I'm there.

310 days and counting.

50 Posts...What I've Learned Since Day 1

Wow, I just noticed I've made 50 blog posts.

Thinking back, I've learned a lot in a pretty short amount of time. In fact, in the spirit of all the recent late night talk show drama, here's my Top 10 Things I've Learned About Ironman Training So Far:

10) Pack your car key securely in your runner's belt. Or, it may fall out. Like it did today.

9) Keep a spare car key in your glove compartment. Like I didn't today.

8) Slower eventually equals faster. I can especially see improvement on the bike hill climbs.

7) Kiss Saturdays goodbye. 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. equals training.

6) A 9-hour training week (like what I have this week) is now considered easy!

5) Chlorine is not the latest Calvin Klein cologne. It just seems that way.

4) Swimming in the rain is delightful. Running, on the other hand, is not. Cycling is just plain crazy.

3) Triathlon training is expensive. Golf has nothing on this sport!

2) Training with a group like Fortius makes the hours pass quickly.

1) The long hours and sacrifice are totally worth it... I'm an Ironman addict!

***

Set a new personal best today with an approximate 14-mile run (no footpod to confirm though). The Fortius group ran all up and around Griffith Park just hours before the rain hit the Southland. Prior to meeting up with the group, I went on a 30-minute warmup jog and felt tight after yesterday's brick (go figure). Fortunately, teammate David is a sports massage therapist who runs his own practice. He offered to work on my IT bands for a few minutes and it made a huge difference for the remaining two hours, 15 minutes. If you're looking for a good sports massage, I suggest you give David a try. I will again soon.

The run ended uneventfully, until I realized that somewhere along the trail my car key popped out of my running belt holder. Total fail. Fortunately, Coach Gerardo dropped me off at home after breakfast and my buddy TJ brought me back to the car with my spare key. All's well that ends well.

I was then able to drop off some used shoes at Sports Chalet in support of its Soles 4 Souls effort for Haiti earthquake relief. Sports Chalet is accepting used shoe donations through tomorrow, so hurry over there if you have some extra footwear and want to make a difference.

That's it for now. Layin' low and stayin' dry for the rest of the night.

311 days and counting.