Recover Right

I've been told that it typically takes two days after participating in a rigorous sporting event before your body feels the strain from doing so. If that's the case, then I'm pretty pleased with how I felt today during training.  After completing a half-marathon in a personal-best time this past Sunday, I've been waiting for the recovery hammer to drop on my body.  To say I'm not sore would be a lie.  However, in the past 48 hours I've completed a spin session on the trainer, a yoga class, an hour of cadence swimming this morning followed by an hour run (20 minutes of zone 3 heart-rate) during lunch.

Even though I'm really tired at this very moment, I feel surprisingly good overall!

In the past, I've needed "Vitamin I", Ibuprofen, ice bags for my outer knees and IT bands, and a long nap.  That was just immediately following the race.  The day or two after that... forget about it.  Definitely no training the day after.  Maybe something light the day after that. Maybe.

I've been finding many parallels lately between recovering from a break-up and training for an Ironman.  Today is no different: Even though I may be sore or in some kind of pain, I'll actually feel better by pedaling, swimming or running through it -- without forcing the issue -- instead of letting myself atrophy until the pain subsides.

It's the difference between an active recovery -- aggressively engaging in overcoming the problem -- and a passive one where the problem overcomes you.  One leaves you feeling replenished, the other leaves you feeling empty.  One empowers, the other weakens.  One rebuilds, the other debilitates.

Maybe that's why tomorrow night, for the first time in several weeks, I'm actually looking forward to a quiet night at home.  I haven't spent one here without having plans earlier in the evening in about six weeks.  It's time.

It's the next step in the recovery process.

287 days and counting.

Upside Down

I've become a hippie. At least my friend Caitlin thinks so.

I tried to protest with her on the phone tonight, but the following are acknowledged facts:

I practice yoga.

I shop at Whole Foods.

I'm in touch with my feelings.

When running, I now prefer the rhythm of my breathing to actual music.

I have vegan products in my condo. (sitting next to leftover steak, so that's kind of a wash...)

I voted for Obama.

This from a kid who grew up in Reagan country, Simi Valley.  Not exactly a liberal stronghold.

The entire reason this discussion occurred was because I successfully executed my first headstand in yoga class tonight, which I proudly shared with Caitlin (an aspiring yoga instructor). My triumph happened in a class with a format I've never tried before: Anasura yoga.  Although I needed a wall to do it, I managed to kick up and hold the headstand pose with my hands interlaced behind my head for support.  It was a bit scary -- I'd like to avoid paralyzing myself if at all possible -- and exhilarating (maybe that was just the sensation of blood rushing to my head) all at the same time.

In the brief few seconds I was able to focus on something besides not toppling down the wall like a busted Jenga puzzle, I realized how different the room looked being upside down.  Lights seemed brighter.  People were harder to distinguish from one another.  That dude in the corner was working out with no shirt on (c'mon man, seriously?).

I also realized this might be the first time in my life where I was truly ecstatic about everything being turned upside down.  (I'm not much of a roller coaster guy.)

Considering the topsy-turvy nature of the past several weeks, this was an especially welcome insight.  In order to see and appreciate the world differently, sometimes we have to shake things up dramatically.  Sometimes we have to turn something on its head, in this case literally, to gain a different vantage point.  Painful as it might be, it's a part of the growing process.

A lesson learned only by extending beyond my comfort zone.  Even if I needed a wall for support.

Don't we all though?

288 days and counting.

Surf City Half Marathon: A Double PR

When I woke up at 4:30 this morning, I wasn't sure how my first official race of the Ironman season was going to fare.  As is often the case with me, myriad thoughts ran rampant through my head, all vying for attention simultaneously:

  • Would all this heart-rate mumbo-jumbo actually pay off?
  • Have all the training hours actually transformed me into a better triathlete?
  • Would the weekly trail runs in Agoura and Newbury Park harden my legs to better withstand the rigors of pavement running?

As I sit comfortably in my office chair at home, the answer is yes, I think so and definitely!

The morning and race itself was a blur.  I attribute that to a mixture of grogginess, "runner's trance" and pure joy.  Here are the highlights I recall:

Around 7:10 a.m., my Fortius teammates Mike and Karen arrived with me to the race starting area with about 30 minutes to spare before the starting gun.  We carpooled together, which was atypical for me. Typically, I like to arrive much earlier to feel the race environment, feed off the crowd energy, get appropriately warmed up, and generally amped for the start.  Mike's approach is different, and turned out to be beneficial.  He likes to wait in the warmth of his car for as long as possible before taking the shuttle bus over, and then get loose just before the race start. I think I'm going to do that more often.

Despite the early morning chill (46 degrees around 6:30 a.m.), once I started jogging I immediately became warm and focused.  I was surprised at how comfortable I felt with such little preparation compared to my normal routine.

In another big departure, I chose not to run with music.  I wanted to see what it would be like to simply stay in touch with my breathing without distraction, figuring that the sound of 20,000 footsteps all around me would provide a symphony all its own. I loved it.  I felt more connected to the race, and what I can only describe as a hive-mind mentality of thousands of people marching towards one goal simultaneously.  Powerful stuff.  Hence, "runner's trance."

As much as music can be a motivator, it can also isolate us from each other in the most engaging of moments begging to be shared with others.

On to the actual running.  The sense of connectivity I felt with my surroundings and the experience at-large boosted my performance.  I started the race more calmly.  I maintained my zone 3 heart rate for much longer, and was able to drop it a little more easily when I crept upward.  The result was that I grew stronger as the race progressed.  My first three miles were at an 8:17 pace, followed by an 8:09 pace at the eight-mile marker.

My first indication that today might yield a good finish time came around the fourth mile, when I caught up to the 1:50:00 pace group.  For the next three miles, it became a tantalizing game of cat-and-mouse, as I'd gently throttle up to the front of the group, only to drop back a ways after my heart-rate rose to a point beyond my race-day plan.  I passed the 1:50 group unexpectedly, rounding a corner back onto Pacific Coast Highway.  There was a water stop at the intersection and as I made the right turn, I couldn't see the 1:50 sign bobbing ahead as it had been.  At first I thought I fell off the pace dramatically since there was traffic in the hydration area.

Then, I looked backwards.

Big smile.

It was at that moment I knew I was going to break my personal record.

The rest of the race became a gradual series of surprise and joy, as I waited in vain for my legs to lock up, or something bad to happen.  Yet, as I continued toward the finish, I was growing stronger, faster and more confident.  People whom I couldn't reach in the first part of the race were falling behind me.  And it felt great.  My only challenge was keeping my heart-rate under control not because of working too hard, but because I was just so damn excited!  It ultimately became a game to see how much time I could shave off my previous PR (1:50).

I finished in 1:45:59, more than four minutes faster than last year's best result.

Then, I strutted (literally) down the finisher's corridor straight to the beer garden.  There I met some new friends I've met via my twitter account (@theironmadman).  Bob (@rcmcoach), Liana (@fittorrent) and Chris (@chrisschauble) were all on hand to congratulate me and each other for a great run.  We combined forces with LA Tri Club and Fortius friends to make a larger celebration party (pictured).  And merriment ensued.

Strangely enough, my race may not have been the biggest breakthrough of the day.  As I watched the Super Bowl with my buddy Kevin and some other long-time friends, my thoughts drifted to my break-up.  I was wondering what she was doing at that moment, where she was.  And I was really frustrated.  I've been fighting an inner war the past several weeks between two selves: The guy who still loved his girl, and the guy who sadly knew it was time to move forward and anew.

I couldn't figure out why I still wanted to be with her, and then it occurred to me in a true epiphany: When I'm not with her, my emotional core takes over.  Sometimes I can't think clearly.  All I see is her and what could have been. Yet, when I was with her, my practical self would rule, and that self could clearly see the challenges inherent in the relationship. Ultimately, that self won out.

In a healthy, stable relationship, both selves must be in alignment.  When they're not, something is wrong.

I let out an audible sigh that must have been lost amidst all the cheers in the game. But this was a very big moment for me.  I totally get it now.  When I'm feeling a little low, now I know why I'm feeling low. It's not because I made a mistake in the relationship, it's simply because it's a natural emotional response to missing someone you care for.  But it doesn't mean it's time to go back.

It's time to move forward. Even when it's hard to do so.  But this realization makes it MUCH easier to do so.

So, today was also a personal PR for me.  While I miss my ex-girlfriend greatly, I unburdened a big part of my past right there in that living room.  And hopefully left it there.

Whomever said "To know thyself is to love thyself" is one smart dude.

My Ironman journey grows deeper and more soulful by the day.  At the beginning, I was running towards a tangible finish line, but now the distance just continues to grow as the destination and route constantly changes.

289 days and counting.

Calm Before the Storm

There are 290 days left until Ironman Arizona. There are 14 hours left until the first race of my Ironman season.

The Surf City Half Marathon looms.  Today's weather reflects my attitude about the race.  Murky.  Gray.  Rainy.  Patches of sun.

Why?  I'm not sure what to expect tomorrow.  Two-plus months of Ironman training will be put to the test for the first time.  While I'm absolutely certain I will break two hours, the question is whether I'll break 1:50, my time last year at the Pacific Half Marathon in Agoura.

I'm no doubt in better shape than I was a year ago for Surf City, my first half marathon.  However, am I faster?  Will I get the chance to find out?  According to my schedule, Surf City is supposed to be a C-level race priority.  A training run, in other words.  But can anything be a C-level priority if you have to wake up at 4:30 a.m. to do it?  Coach Gerardo has me following a specific plan tomorrow, which essentially calls for remaining in zone 3 heart rate for the first 10 miles and zone 4 for the last three.  That means I won't be able to cross beyond 168 bpm in the final three miles.

I'm not sure my competitive side will allow for that.  If I feel good, I know I'll be very tempted to push it.  C-level priority my ass.  Especially if my buddies Kevin and Tim are running side-by-side at that point, or slightly ahead.  And they know it too.

Either way, I am dialed in for this race.  I wasn't when the day began.  Hours in the car schlepping from Sherman Oaks to Huntington Beach to pick up the race packet, and back to Thousand Oaks for an appointment gave me plenty of time to idly think about the race, training, family, life, etc.  My mind was all over the place.

Then, my iPod saved the day again.  Isn't it funny when your iPod seems more like a friend than a music player -- knowing just what song to play on shuffle mode exactly when you need to hear it most?

Today, that song was "Right Here, Right Now" by Van Halen.  Like a gong in yoga class, the opening piano and guitar riff snapped my focus together instantly.

Then, I played it three times in a row.

Needless to say, I'm pretty jacked right about now.

Is it 8 a.m. yet?

290 days and counting.

Meditative State

With Ironman training, I've grown accustomed to doing certain workouts at home.  Cycling on the trainer and abs work immediately come to mind.

Today, I add yoga to the list.

Once again, the physical exercise took a back seat to the mental benefits associated with it.  At first, I felt awkward.  A little "granola", to be honest.  After returning home from work and getting settled, I turned down the lights low in my bedroom, sat cross-legged and allowed myself a few moments to sink deep within to reflect upon a long week.  A trying week.  A week filled with conflicting thoughts and emotions.  Then, I let out a few heavy "ohm" chants, carefully monitoring my breath pattern to dispense of every last ounce of stress.

Within minutes, I was relaxed, focused and completely centered.  I'm still surprised at how easy it was to find my metaphysical core.  Why do we stray so far from ourselves so unnecessarily?  Previously, to reach a zen-like state, I believed you needed a yoga studio complete with sitar music, Buddha statues, lots of props and of course other people.  This was different.  Quiet.  Peaceful.  Solitary.  And completely self-contained.  I found it easier to remove any semblance of self-consciousness or ego and instead could truly focus on my breathing.  There was nobody to compare myself to, or worry about when the instructor was going to come by and make an adjustment.

I was both student and instructor.  Patient and doctor.

Granted, this was only a 30-minute session.  I mostly focused on sun salutes, downward dog, cobra, plank, warrior and pigeon poses, followed by some foam-core rolling at the end.

The result was a sense of wholeness and rejuvenation unlike I've experienced heading into a weekend in quite a long time.  I set my intention for the week to more fully accept the hurt and loss that I'm feeling and to quit worrying so much about being macho and "toughing it out."

When I looked at my scheduled at the beginning of the week, I figured today's yoga workout would be the first one I'd be able to skip if I ran short on time.

Looking back, it was the most important thing I did all week.  Thirty minutes out of 10,080 re-aligned my entire outlook.

Namaste.

291 days and counting.

First Thursday Fun

Walking into the Atlantis club in Encino tonight for the LA Tri Club's monthly First Thursday social, I realized that this would be the first time I'd be seeing many of my friends with "real" clothes on.  No lycra.  No goggles.  No swim cap.  Just real, honest-to-goodness denim and dress shoes.

Turns out everyone cleans up pretty well!  About 20 TriClubbers attended the Valley event, shared a few drinks, ate fried bar food (irony noted) and traded stories about life and training.  Some club members had only completed one or two triathlons.  Others had completed multiple Ironman events.  There were plenty of inspirational stories to go around, including Greg, an actor/triathlete (take that, Zoolander!) who has lost 100 pounds in 10 months and plans to win a Clydesdale weight class event by the time he's 50.  And Mike, who, after one sprint triathlon has decided he's going to do a Half Ironman this summer at Vineman.  Impressive (and a little crazy)!

Anat rallied to join me, and for her efforts, was rewarded with a pair of socks she won in the raffle.  You can see her elation in the picture.  As is usually the case, I didn't win diddly-squat.  I've never been lucky with raffles.  But, that's cool.  It was great to connect with fellow triathletes in a non-training setting.  With real clothes.  That's enough of a prize on its own.

***

Today's training session turned into a brick due to a busy work schedule.  I swam for 45 minutes, which was supposed to be an easy workout.  However, a fellow triathlete shared the pool lane with me and started using me as his pace partner.  So, I got a little competitive.  And then so did he.  The easy workout turned into sets of interval sprints.  At the end, we laughed about it, acknowledging that we were essentially like two rams locking horns in a silly swimming pissing contest. The funny part though is not being able to speak during the workout since we're both underwater, yet knowing what the other was thinking the entire time. Following the swim, I had race-pace run intervals for 45 minutes on the treadmill.  No competitions to be had though.

Before signing off tonight, I just wanted to thank those of you who commented about the new IronMadMan site either on my Facebook page, Twitter or here.  Getting that kind of positive feedback really meant a lot.  I hope you'll stick around for more adventures.

292 days and counting.

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.

Recovery Day

Perhaps this is an addendum to yesterday's blog, but today I can't help but think about my ability to recover from this weekend's training sessions.

Just a few months ago, the notion of running 15 miles one day, cycling 50 the next and then "recovering" with a five-mile run and one hour of weights training the day after that would make me crawl into a fetal position.
Today, I rather enjoyed it!
What the hell is wrong with me?
The run portion of the workout, which I completed on the treadmill, was pretty tough at first. In fact, it took me about 30 minutes to loosen my legs before I began my 20 minutes of tempo running. Somewhat surprisingly though, I didn't feel the effects from this weekend's training as much during the weightlifting. Certain leg exercises were more difficult than others, but overall, I wasn't overly sore. It may have helped that I lifted immediately after the run, since this afternoon and evening have been filled with meetings, a dentist appointment (filling, ugh!) and a dinner that I'll be en route to shortly.
I'm already looking forward to tomorrow's workouts. I never thought I'd say it, but I'm excited to get back in the pool. It's been four days since I swam, but it feels like longer. I used to hate swimming... now I look forward to it. Weird!
It just goes to show that with enough practice and repetition, your mind and mindset can adapt. Routine, as dull as it may sound, can become sublime. Even invigorating.
Therapeutic? Perhaps.
When I set after my quest for Ironman, I thought triathlon would dramatically expand my physical capabilities. I never expected that the sport would take my psyche along for the ride and give it a tune-up along the way.
295 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.