Big Brick

I embedded the details of my Sunday brick in the post above.  I can't figure out how to embed in the post properly yet.  But I think the duration of the workout (hopefully) speaks for itself. Of course, it was yesterday's workout -- not today's.  I was so busy powering through a five-hour brick and rushing to a neighborhood potluck dinner and then rushing to my buddy TJ's house to catch the finale of The Pacific (best one of the series) that by the time I got home...I had zero energy to blog last night.

I apologize to both of you who read this blog daily.

I'm back now, with a vengeance.  Actually, it's just a quiet night at home and an off-day for training.  I didn't get one last week so today's is most welcome.  Though my legs feel like lead after climbing 5,663 feet on the bike in Malibu, swimming a mile in 57-degree ocean water and lightly jogging a couple miles after the bike. I hope I don't sink to the bottom of the pool tomorrow morning with our Fortius team swim!

I learned a few things during yesterday's epic day of climbing Encinal and Piuma canyon roads.  They were probably more powerful observations as they were occurring in the heat of the moment, but at least 24 hours of rumination  can distill things down to their core.  So here goes:

-- Hill climbs are getting easier.  As you can see by the speeds involved, Mike, Karen, Frank, Richard and I weren't going too fast up any of the hill climbs. But, outside of the latter part of Piuma, my heart rate remained low and steady.  I never felt winded, except at the top of Piuma as massive blankets of fog rolled over the mountain peaks directly overhead, sending headwind blasts directly in our path.  I think the best way to build stamina on the bike is long, slow, and steady hill climbing.  Rinse, wash, repeat.

-- Cycling is a dangerous sport.  Two friends of mine, one of them being Anat, went down in accidents this weekend.  Neither accident was their fault nor could have been prevented.  Anat crashed on Pacific Coast Highway, which further gives me the jitters because of the number of people who crashed their last year.  I used to think that road was among the safest and most scenic.  Now I realize it's probably safer up steep hillsides than down by the ocean. Please, ride with caution on PCH.  Don't follow too close.  Watch the car doors.

-- Ocean swimming gets more and more enjoyable with more and more practice.  Many of my friends don't understand how I can enjoy ocean swimming.  There are the creepy crawly critters, for instance.  The polluted water.  The tides.  The seaweed.  The sand.  You know what?  Once you get past the surf, it's calm.  Once you channel out the cold, it's comfortable.  Once you accept your peaceful insignificance in the giant ocean, swimming is a total joy.  It's rhythmic.  Hypnotic.  And something I never thought I'd say a couple years ago.  Further, if you're training for an Ironman with a large open-water swim, I suggest swimming in some really cold water at some point before your race just to be mentally prepared.

-- My friend Karen is really improving on the bike!  After Frank bowed out of the climb due to mechanical problems with his shifting cables and Richard went home due to a bum knee, Karen braved riding alone behind Mike and me.  And she not only did so admirably, but Karen outright powered up Piuma -- only .25 miles behind Mike and me at the summit.  On the steep descents, something she's admittedly uncomfortable with, Karen kept up.  I was super proud of her and impressed.  It's really nice to see improvement happening right before your eyes.  Karen's one of my favorite triathletes because she embodies the spirit of the sport.  She's tenacious and flat-out battles through anything.  I can relate to that mentality and have that much more respect for it as a result.

There's much more I could write but I'm shutting it down for the night.  I've got another busy week ahead and a 6 a.m. date at the pool.  Good night everyone!

192 days and counting.

The Best Training is Sometimes the Slowest

I woke up early this morning for an event.  It even had a starting gun and a finish.

Yet I wasn't racing.  I wasn't even running.

And it was just as much fun.

Stephanie helped organize a small team of her co-workers to attend a walk-a-thon in El Segundo for the Make-A-Wish Foundation.  Instead of my normal training routine, I decided to switch my long bike and run around so I could support her.  Joined by Stephanie's friends Erica and Adam, we had a great time -- even if it was only a two-mile walk.  Actually, it was really nice NOT to launch myself out of the starting area and sprint as fast as I could.  I got to enjoy the scenery a bit more, relax a bit more, chat a bit more.  And maybe even appreciate a bit more.  The whole point of the walk was to raise money for kids who are faced with terminal illness.  The least -- make that the very least -- I can do is flip my schedule around to support the cause.

I'm always grateful for being healthy and strong enough to pursue this crazy sport.  Sometimes I'm even grateful enough to realize how good it is to be merely alive and healthy.  This morning was one of those moments for the latter.

Sometimes the best form of training can come in the slowest of forms.

194 days and counting.

200 Days to Go: What I've Learned So Far

OK, it's 196 days and counting, but I've been thinking about this post for four days now.  That counts for something, right? I've written 159 blog posts, not including this one.  Which means I've trained for Ironman Arizona slightly longer than that.  I had some basic observations at the 50 post mark that are pretty quaint.

One-hundred posts later, what have I learned?

Here's my updated Top 10 Things I've Learned About Ironman Training.  For those of you reading, I'd sure love to see your top 10!

10) Better equipment can make a difference.  See yesterday's blog post.

9) Triathlon is an f-ing expensive sport!  See yesterday's blog post.

8 Compression apparel works.  My calves feel more refreshed when I wear them.

7) Writing a blog post every day is a lot like training for a triathlon.  You have to pace yourself, realize that some days are better than others, and that it's a largely solitary endeavor.

6) Triathlon is much more enjoyable when it's a team effort.  Not just a triathlon team or club, but when you have a partner actively supporting and encouraging you. Thanks, Steph.

5) You get much more out of triathlon than what you put in in terms of caring and sharing.  But the latter feels better.  Wildflower taught me that.

4) The mind is so much more powerful than any muscle in the body.  I've overcome hunger, pain, and illness to finish what I've started.  My willpower has grown during this journey as much as my stamina or strength.

3) Increased intake of fruits and vegetables can replace multivitamins -- thanks to stuff I didn't previously like that I now crave (oranges, avocado, tomatoes).  I stopped taking a daily multivitamin weeks ago after increasing my berries and orange intake.  I haven't felt an energy dip.

2) I am really damn competitive.  I kinda knew that already, but this sport has shown me that I'm almost obsessive about it.  Can't tell yet if it's a positive or negative.  I suppose it depends on what my willpower is telling me.

1) Triathlon training or races cannot be taken for granted.  Anything can happen.  Bad weather.  Unexpected equipment malfunctions (not of the Janet Jackson variety).  Illness.  Injury.  Every opportunity to train is a gift.  I now treat it accordingly.

196 days and counting.

Hammerin' the Conejo

This morning, Team Fortius participated in the 26th annual Cruisin' the Conejo bike ride across the Conejo Valley.

My ride was closer to "Hammerin' the Conejo."  The whole cruising part just didn't work out so well today.  Not that you're really surprised.

The ride was a last-minute (but very welcome) addition to our training schedule.  And to get it out of the way up front, I recommend this ride for anyone looking to see the Conejo Valley at its finest.  The route is fairly easy for riders of all levels. We didn't do a ton of climbing, most of the ride was flat, the wind was moderate and the temperature never got hire than the upper 70s. The rest stops, course marking and organizers are first-rate.  And as far as organized group rides in Southern California, I'd definitely put it ahead of the Cool Breeze Century in Ventura.

David, my teammate and friend (and sports massage therapist) and I chose the 68-mile "moderate" metric century, which would take us from Newbury Park to Westlake, into Oxnard, Camarillo, through Moorpark and my hometown of Simi Valley and back to Thousand Oaks/Newbury Park.  The climbing was moderate, but the pace was not.

We started the ride at 8 knowing we needed to be back in Los Angeles by 2 p.m. since David had a massage client at 3:30.  We knew we'd make our deadline if we were efficient on the bike.  Had we not had places to be and things to do, I think today's ride would have been a lot more mellow.  That, and David had a friend, John, who joined us.  John was a big guy who, in David's words, "liked to go fast."  I didn't realize how fast until we quickly lost at least three packs of riders on the course with us.

In fact, literally not one person passed all three of us for an extended period.  And, of course, my competitive side coming out BIG-TIME, absolutely nobody passed me on the course during my ride.  Once we realized we were among the best cyclists on the course, David, John and I made a friendly gentlemen's pact that nobody would pass us.  All day.  My kind of challenge.  Our piss-and-vinegar approach manifested itself the most during a roughly 10-mile stretch on Las Posas Road coming from Camarillo into Moorpark.  We formed a pace line and seriously hammered.  Coach Gerardo will see this soon enough via my Garmin 310x data, but let me just note up front I spent way more time than I should have in zone 5 on the heart-rate monitor.  I was in a cycling trance today.  That's the only way to describe it.  When I expressed my concern to David that maybe we were pushing too hard, he calmly noted that "it's good to get in a little speed work every once in a while."

Noted.  And check.

We took the pedal off the metal in Moorpark and into Simi Valley, where I had a visitor pop by to say hello: My father. He met us on the same road I used to bike as a kid with a Haro mountain bike when I'd gather the nerve to venture from Simi into the next time.  I remember vividly those afternoons with Frank and Jeremy, when we'd think we were practically like Magellan wondering if the world was indeed flat.  What's beyond the next town? What if we don't make it back by dark?  What if we get a flat tire?  Oh, the excitement!  Oh, how it was only 13 miles yet felt like 68.

Oh, how nice it was to ride on that road again for the first time in 20 years and think about how far I've come, and how lucky I was to be able to enjoy such a moment with my dad.

After Dad left, we ambled up Olsen Road and battled a headwind before rallying for the last stretch down Thousand Oaks Boulevard and onto Hillcrest Drive.  One rider in an Amgen kit tried to stay with John and me.  I was having none of it.  Not that far into the ride without having anyone pass.  This guy tried to pass me twice and on both occasions I floored it, the second time looking directly at him, smiling and saying "nice push" before dusting him the final two miles into the parking lot.

We rode 68 miles in just about 3:46, or an 18 mph pace.  We were on our road bikes since it was a group ride, so I'm very eager to give my TT bike a go and see if I can improve upon that, minus the elevated heart-rate.

I know I need to curb this competitive fire right now.  I've got so many more months of training and it's all about pacing and patience.

But I just couldn't help myself today.  Fortunately, there were some great recovery tools available at the end of the race...err...tour.  I was stretched out by a chiropractor truck and then David, John and I were treated to electro-therapy for 15 minutes to restore blood flow to our aching leg muscles.  What a trip!  My legs looked like they had a mind of their own the way they were dancing from all the electricity pulsating through them.  But I can say it worked.  My legs feel fine, and I can also partially attribute that to the 2XU compression calf sleeves I wore on the ride.  I can definitely tell a difference now when I wear them in terms of recovery and stability in my legs.  It might be a little mental (hey, so am I!), but I swear the compression tech works.

It had better.  I've got a swim with the LA Tri Club tomorrow along with a 1.75 hour running session.  I will have to take it a little easy on the run, I'm sure.

Unless someone faster tries to pass me.

Just kidding, Gerardo.  Kind of.

201 days and counting.

What Fuels My Fire

I'm sensing a potential problem with my training.

It's centered on fear.  Fear of finishing last in a pelaton. Or in the pool.  Or on the track and trail.  It stems from being dropped on numerous rides with the San Fernando Valley Bicycle Club early in my cycling career, or my past inability to keep up in swim workouts.  And an athletic inferiority complex in general that is best represented by my irrational love for underdogs like Rudy Ruettiger.  Fearing that I'm the slowest or the worst fuels my competitive fire, as much as when people tell me I can't or won't be able to do something. Anything.

This fear is manifesting itself in a pretty obsessive competitive streak lately.  My training partners and friends, Ann, Richard and Mike, have encountered that side of my personality recently.  Richard and Mike were playfully teasing me about notching up the intensity a bit too high during our weekly Griffith Park brick sessions on Wednesday nights.  I can't help it though, especially when a few of us cyclists tackle Mount Hollywood en route to Griffith Park and occasionally treat it like we're racing for the polka-dot climbing "king of the hill" jersey at Le Tour de France.

OK, maybe that's just me that feels that way.  Maybe I'm the only one who hears British Tour de France TV commentator Phil Liggett in my head -- announcing my progress and stumbles to the world in real-time.  And that's part of my problem.

It happened again today, where what felt like an unusually large pelaton ratcheted up the intensity almost as soon as we turned out of the LA Zoo parking lot.  I was prepared for an easy spin and run considering our recent race weekend at Wildflower.  Nobody else in the group received that memo, apparently.  We took off fast, and hard.  I was almost dropped at first until I warmed up properly.

That got my attention.  And drew my ire.  Then, what was supposed to be a jaunt turned into a near-sprint, starting at around Forest Lawn Drive before heading right up a long hill en route to Mt. Hollywood.

Phil Liggett took over.  He called the action in my head with every pedal stroke.

"Ryan seems to be struggling today, his weary legs almost begging for mercy after a grueling Wildflower stage on Sunday.  He's towards the back of the pack at the moment, or is he calculating his big surge? It's hard to tell if our man on the Colnago is wearing the look of a confident, intense competitor or someone who's at the end of his line before the real racing begins.  What's Ryan made of today?  We will all soon know.

"Oh look at that!  Ryan is making his move now, passing to the outside left of a small group of riders who seem to be slowing down.  He's picking up steam! But can he catch the man up front, the blue-jersey, Trek wearing monster who is trying to lose the entire pack up the mountain?  Can Ryan pick it up to slay Goliath?  Or is David simply out of rocks?

"It appears we'll have our answer shortly.  Ryan is making his move!  He's separating from the pack and is solely focused on tracking down the Trek.  Now Ryan is riding Trek's wheel, forcing the leader to pick up the pace.  The man up front is becoming uncomfortable. I think Ryan's got him!  Yes, the Trek rider is now standing and pedaling up the hill.  Laboring!  Panting!  Cold and merciless, Ryan passes.  Seated.  A point has been made.  'This is MY hill.'  This will indeed be Ryan's day!  From worst to first, for one moment, Ryan is king of this hill. A huge victory for Team Colnago."

Yep, that's how my brain works. Even if it's 5:30 on a Wednesday evening on a seemingly routine ride. I know I'm a little crazy.  I know.

I hate losing. I hate being dropped.  I hate being perceived as too slow.  Not good enough.  Not fast enough.

Nothing ever comes easy for me, so I never take a workout for granted. Maybe that's a secret to success: Treat each workout like it must be your best.  Because somewhere out there, someone is training harder.  Getting better.  Becoming faster.

What are you doing?

203 days and counting.

This is My Tri Bike

This is my tri-bike.  There are many like it.

But this one is mine.

After several months drooling, researching, speculating, debating, deliberating and procrastinating, I now own a triathlon bike.  As you can see, I went with the Cervelo P2 Ultegra setup, along with a sweet pair of Bontrager/Hed Aeolus 5.0 clinchers.  Helen's Cycles in Santa Monica made me an offer too good to refuse on the wheelset.  I was planning to buy the Hed  Jet 6 and 9s, as I've recently written.  However, they weren't in stock and Helen's took advantage of my eagerness to sell me  on a "project one" pair of the Bontragers for $900 off the MSRP.  As I was doing my bike-fitting session, the cyclist next to me doing the same had ridden 10,000 miles on the same pair.  And was happy.  That was good enough for me.

Oh, Lance and the rest of Team Radio Shack ride on them too.

Yeah, that'll do.

The only other major purchase I needed to add to the bike were the adjustable carbon Profile Design Viper aero bars.  During my fitting, it became clear I was reaching a bit too far out towards the elbow pads and my back and rib cage  were going to be stretched.  Unfortunately, the stock aero bars were not adjustable.  Yes, a proper pre-purchase bike fit might have indicated that other tri bikes could have been a better natural fit as a result.  Yet all my research kept pointing back to the Cervelo P2 offering the best bang for the buck.  Judging by the transition area at Wildflower, hundreds of other Cervelo owners agreed.  And each time I spoke with a P2 owner whether at Wildflower or the other races I've competed in this year, they all indicated how much they loved their purchase.  Not one showed an ounce of regret.

And let's face it: I just wanted the damn bike.  There's lots of great choices out there. Felt. Wilier. Argon. Kuota. And many others.  But the Cervelo had me from the get-go.  It wasn't even a fair contest.  You can research all you want.  In the end, I bought what I wanted, but it happens to be a great value nonetheless.

Now, I must make sure my Monica (my Colnago) doesn't get too jealous of Charlie, the Cervelo.  So far, they're co-existing in the same room peacefully.

By the way, I name my bikes.  Maybe I talk to them too every once in a while.  It's totally not weird.  It's normal.  I keep telling myself that.

It's normal, right?

Good night, Monica.  Good night, Charlie.  Good night, Shalom (my Scott Speedster).

These are my bikes.  There are many like them.  But these bikes are MINE.

Hooah!

Still 204 days and counting, but not by much.

Karmic Pizza

I have discovered the elusive missing link to achieving a great triathlon race result.

Pizza.

But not just any pizza.  This is a special kind.  And instead of eating it, you must give it away to someone in need before your race.  It doesn't really matter when in the day that happens.  In return, if you're lucky, the pizza recipient will wish you a good race and shower cosmic karma upon you.

I know this to be true, because that's exactly what happened to me the day before posting a 2:54:00 Wildflower Olympic time this past Sunday, 10 minutes faster than my predicted best-case scenario, good for a top 50 finish in my age group (top 23%) and top 26% among all men.  I even saw all my swim training pay off with a 29:36 mile swim, breaking the 30-minute mark for the first time and beating my old personal best open-water swim by four minutes.

I need to find more pizza to give away!

Here's what happened.  My buddy Dustin and I were waiting in the stands near the finish line for our friend Darrin to finish the long-course, which ran the day before the Olympic race.  Darrin had a long day but demonstrated what it meant to persevere over adversity.  He snapped his chain within the first mile of the bike portion, walked the bike a mile back to our RV camper, fixed the chain (pictured below), walked his bike back to the course and was on his way.  While we were waiting for Darrin, Dustin and I both felt mid-afternoon hunger pangs.  I went on a scouting mission for pizza and on my way back with two slices in hand, a girl who had just completed the long course walked up next to me and said, "I could attack you for a slice of that pizza right now!"

After a little banter back-and-forth, I realized she might not be joking.

I told the girl, whose name I never got, to follow me back to the stands.  Once I gave Dustin his slice, I tore half of my pizza and gave it to the girl. Even though she protested at first, she quickly relented.  After doing so, she looked up at me, smiled wide and said, "You are going to have the race of a lifetime tomorrow.  You just got a TON of race karma.  You are going to kick major ass."

Instead of making a joke back or some self-deprecating comment, I did something I normally don't do when someone says something nice to or about me...I simply said, "Thanks, I hope so."

So it was wished, so it occurred.

And I have pizza to thank.  So there you go, fellow triathletes...you can train as hard as you want, but maybe simply doing something nice for a fellow racer will put you in the best position to achieve your goals.

In the end, while the race itself was a special moment for me, it was overshadowed by the "one and only" experience that is Wildflower.  There were a reported 30,000 people on hand to witness the weekend's activities.  And many of them dotted the entire race course cheering on athletes of all abilities.  I can say that in least two spots on the bike and at least three on the run I received a much-needed adrenaline boost just from the encouragement.  (The bikini-clad college girls handing out water at the aid stations helped a little too.)  The crowd was at its finest in the stands near the finish line, where runners' gritty and sometimes-grinning facial expressions told lengthy tales of dedication, sacrifice and determination.  I welled up with tears on Saturday at least five times watching fathers pick up their children to run to the end with them, or small children high-fiving strangers as they passed by.  Or couples holding hands while running to the finish together.

The magic of the sport is not solely possessed by the elite. Far from it.  It's a form of karmic pizza all its own, where triumphant finishers give back energy to the crowd as much if not more than what they're gaining by completing a massive personal challenge.

We think we're taking, gaining, obtaining, and striving.  But really, we're giving, sharing, encouraging and caring.

If you haven't been to Wildflower, go.  Even if you don't race, go.  There's a reason it's called the "one and only."

And if you've been to Wildflower, let's sign up again for next year.

I'll even bring the pizza.

204 days and counting.

Wildflower Wrap-Up

Tonight's brick workout at Griffith Park represented my last "real" training session before the Wildflower triathlon this Sunday.

How do I feel?  It's a mixed question.  This morning, I would have written that I felt slightly more fatigued than usual.  Tonight, I'm more optimistic. Most notable is that my right knee isn't hurting at all despite climbing to the Griffith Observatory and running a few miles after.  Lately, my knee had been acting up on the run and sometimes during the bike, requiring ice and extra stretching.  Tonight, no discomfort.  That's a plus!  It's been weeks since I felt that good after a workout.

The ride itself was a little tougher than I expected though.  I found myself pushing a little harder than I wanted, but it was mainly because Frank joined me and I wanted to play catch-up.  In the understatement of the year, I am a little competitive.  Fortunately, Fortius teammates Mike and Richard playfully yanked me back and in their own way reminded me we were supposed to be tapering. Point taken.

Perhaps the best news of the day though was Coach Gerardo's email that tomorrow's 6 a.m. swim workout is cancelled, meaning I get a training off-day since nothing else is scheduled.  Woohoo!  I am so excited to sleep in, though I'll need the extra time to pack for the weekend.  Despite the lack of workouts, tomorrow will still be packed with triathlon goodness. I'm likely buying a set of race wheels to go with the triathlon bike I don't own yet.  They're Hed Jet 6 and 9 wheels.  More info on them tomorrow once the transaction is complete.  And I've got a pre-race massage with Fortius massage therapist David at 6:30 p.m.  Since it's so close to the race the massage will be light and circulatory, mostly a relaxer.  Can't wait.

Even though Wildflower is in just a couple days, I can't help but notice how relaxed I am.  I've trained at Lake San Antonio. I've done more than 10 triathlons now.  I'm experienced.  I'm healthy.  Well-rested.  What's there to be nervous about?  I know the course will be challenging, but it will probably be one of the most fun triathlon weekends I'll ever have.

210 days and counting.

Just Another Manic Sunday

So how was my Sunday? Swimming and running and yoga, oh my!

Followed by a special dinner in Newport Beach with Stephanie's family celebrating Mr. Van Schaik's 63rd birthday.

Just got home. Absolutely exhausted! Non-stop action from 7 a.m. to 10 p.m. will do that.

But it really was a great day. It started off with my longest ocean swim ever, a 1.5-plus mile jaunt in Marina del Rey with my Fortius Teammates and the LA Tri Club.  I was surprised at how easy the duration of the swim was, though I wasn't pushing hard.  Richard and I stopped a few times to chat, spot our pier marker and look or other swimmers around us.  Coach Gerardo even made a cameo swimming with us, still basking in his rightfully deserved glow of a 3:15 Boston Marathon time last Monday.

After the swim, it was time to run for an hour.  Most of the group was going to eat breakfast but I needed to fit my workout in since we had plans this evening.  My Fortius teammate, Paul, joined me for the run or I would have been on my own.  Paul is competing in his first full Ironman, St. George, this coming Saturday, along with our teammates Lisa and Christina.  We talked a lot about his thoughts going into St. George.  His preparation.  His mental state.  His goals.  What's next.

It's funny, but even though I'm not competing this coming weekend in St. George, a piece of me will be there.  Only I and and a few others really know the hard work that Paul, Lisa and Christina have invested in this massive achievement.  And while each of them fully deserve the accolades that come with competing an Ironman, a small part of me feels like I'm attached to the experience too.  Like a bench player on a basketball team that never sees actual game time but knows his contributions in practice make the starters -- those who do actually play -- better.

I capped off the training portion of my day with a 1.5 hour restorative yoga session at Black Dog.  The deep stretches, especially in my shoulders and hips, hurt and softened me in the best possible way.  I'm returning again tomorrow night for a 7 p.m. session, along with Steph.  The rest of my training week is quite light in preparation for Wildflower.  Ah, Wildflower...I had forgotten about you for a few days.  Let's hope this taper goes better than my LA Marathon training.

G'night all.

213 days and counting.

The Crash: 1 Year Later

One year ago today, I turned my road bike into a mountain bike, hurtling over the edge off Santa Susana Pass and tumbling down about 30 feet. And walked away from it.

The mental toll was much worse.  It took me about nine months before I started cornering more aggressively on my Colnago.  Even though I consider myself mentally "rehabilitated," there are still moments on downhills where I recreate the events leading up to my crash.  Sweeping right turn.  Over-correct to stay on the right side of the road.  Notice the rapid left approaching quicker than I'd like.  Brake too hard.  Get loose on gravel.  Lock eyesight on cliff, and the tree just beyond it.  Panic.

I knew today would be a milestone for me as I'd have to overcame those mental images throughout our Fortius team ride in the Malibu/Agoura hills. I think about that crash on almost every ride, but I knew it would be top-of-mind today.   Especially when it was announced we would be descending down the notoriously technical Decker Canyon Road off Mulholland Drive.  When Stephanie and I got back together, I promised her that I'd avoid this canyon as much as possible because of how fast cars and motorcycles rocket down it.  But today, on this one-year anniversary of an event that should have either killed or severely injured me,  I had to prove something to myself.  It wasn't a day to turn back.

The descent was fairly easy, I'm pleased to say.  In fact, I surprised myself by taking some of the more difficult lines almost perfectly.  The feeling of nailing a line is so ecstatic.  I can only describe it as feeling bound to your bike and the road as if all were melded together on rails like a roller coaster.  Gravity, physics and inertia all work together simultaneously, and in that brief moment, cycling becomes gliding.

I did have one flashback moment though.  There's a tight left hairpin turn with a berm at the apex.  If you don't know it's coming, it can take you by surprise.  I remember seeing it for the first time months ago on my initial Decker descent, grateful for my ginger approach down the mountain.  Had I not crashed at Santa Susana Pass, I very well might have missed that corner amidst my inexperience and arrogance.

Because I hadn't ridden Decker in so long, this turn caught me a bit by surprise this morning.  But the difference was a year of maturity and respect for the sport.  Instead of slamming on the brakes, I gradually applied pressure and looked my way through the corner.  I didn't lock on the potential obstacle, but scanned ahead to the other side of the corner so I knew how to approach the turn after that.  Instead of freezing, I analyzed. Instead of panicking, I adapted.

This moment was probably indistinguishable to the rest of my teammates, but it's something I'll remember for a long time.  I've descended Decker before.  But today, it was a little more special. A rite of passage.  A rite that I feel blessed to have been afforded.

The rest of the ride was highly enjoyable due to the sunny, temperate weather and the fact that my buddies Frank and Dustin (both pictured) accompanied the Fortius team and me.  Each held their own today, which always impresses me since they both juggle busy work and family lives.  I joked with Dustin that he and Frank are actually quint-athletes since Dustin balances a marriage and a pregnant wife while Frank has a wife, two kids and a new dog.  Now that is dedication!

In addition to our Rock Store climb and Decker descent, I was also proud of the time trial we did in Hidden Valley.  I wasn't wearing a heart-rate monitor or a speedometer but I know I pushed it hard today, and felt strong. Improvement is both physical and mental.

I'm so grateful that I even had an opportunity to be in this position.  To realize the dream of becoming an Ironman.  To be able to learn from past mistakes and grow.  To learn more about myself and evolve into something a little better.

Aha. The real benefit of this Ironman journey.

214 days and counting.