Special V-Day Gift

I'd like to return today's Valentine's Day gift. Nah, I take that back.

It arrived early, in the form of an 8 a.m. 15-mile uphill run on the dirt Mulholland trail.  Literally, most of the run was uphill.  After yesterday's 58-mile jaunt through the hills of Malibu Canyon, I can only describe the last 3.5 miles of this morning's run as "haggard."  Then, the giving continued in the form of a 3,000-swim featuring two sets of 1,000 yard ascending and descending T-pace intervals.

Thanks, Coach.

All that said, the run was a beautiful one.  I experienced a new trail, a route known as "the Westridge run." It connects with the Nike missile site and descends all the way to Mandeville Canyon near Santa Monica.  The problem, though, is that what goes down must come up.  And the ascent back to the top of Mulholland from the base of the Westridge trail point is a real grind.  But the view is spectacular.  Truly one of those "wow!" moments that stopped me dead in my tracks.  Literally.  I came to a complete halt taking in the staggering view from Santa Monica clear through the South Bay and even downtown LA.

Wow.

The rest of the run was less beautiful.  Primarily because of how steep and occasionally painful it was on the legs.  Fortunately, my Fortius friends made the experience far more enjoyable, with lots of jokes and banter (as you can see in the top image with Christina and Ray goofing off).  Without them, training would be a lot harder.

Like my solo swim, for example.  Going back-and-forth in the pool almost immediately after the run without any support takes a lot of willpower.  It paid off though.  I learned that now I'm routinely able to drop below my 2:05 threshold pace and can consistently hit two minutes or even less.  My fastest today was 1:54, and that was on my last timed 100 of the day.  To be able to pull that off after such a grueling weekend of training is something that this blog allows me to cherish for just a bit, before heading out to the pool tomorrow to do it all over again.

Accomplishments don't seem to last very long in this sport.

Hopefully the memories last longer.

I suppose, then, that this blog is my gift to myself.

Happy V-Day, me.

282 days and counting.

The Music in My Head

	Jane's Addiction - Three Days .mp3
	Found at bee mp3 search engine

I've been toying with the idea of adding "soundtracks" to my blogs, to give the emotion behind them a little more dimension.  This is my first post where I'm going to try it out.  Please consider downloading the free tune and listening to it while  and after reading.  I hope it adds something to the experience.  Let me know what you think.

Today, members of the Fortius team (Richard, Paul, Mike, Cynthie and Coach Gerardo) ramped up our base cycling training with a 5.5-hour trek.  We pedaled from Calabasas Commons to the Pacific Ocean and back via Mulholland Road, climbing more than 4,200 feet along the way.  I burned 3,000 calories during the trip.

When you're cycling for that long, a lot can run through your head.  Sometimes, since I don't use an iPod while cycling, I play a mental soundtrack that keeps me fired up and going strong.  Today, I focused on my favorite song of all-time, "Three Days" by Jane's Addiction.  To me, it conveys such a wide range of emotions: Serenity, chaos, anger, exhilaration, bewilderment.  The energy in the music is infectious.  I dare you not to be ready to take on the world after listening to it.

"Three Days" matched how today's ride felt.  The climbs were persistent and intensity-filled.  The downhills were wild, occasionally hairy with traffic in Malibu Canyon, and the views were magnificent.  The weather really cooperated today,too, though I had to shed a thermal jacket, my headband and arm warmers along the way after a chilly start.

And, like the length of "Three Days", the ride was seemingly never-ending.  There's something about cycling for close to three hours and realizing you're only about halfway done.  And that's when you're staring at the glistening Pacific Ocean knowing you need to climb Mulholland Road all the way back to the Valley before the final stretch occurs.  It's hard to appreciate the beauty of the sea when all you can think of is a nine-mile climb that awaits.  But then, at the top of the mountain, the mood changes.  And the frantic downhill rocket ride ensues.

In my head, the song and the road were playing the same tune -- maddening, orchestrated chaos.  The beat served as both taskmaster and pacemaker, imploring me to pedal a little harder for a little longer.

And it worked.  I had a great ride, with enough left in my fuel tank to finish strong and avoid cramping up.

We'll see what pops into my head tomorrow for my 2.75-hour run and 3,200-yard swim that follows.

Hopefully not the theme from Titanic.

283 days and counting.

The Bar is Rising

Tomorrow, a new phase of training begins. It lurks in the form of a 5.5-hour bike ride starting in Calabasas at 8 a.m.  Hill climbs.  Lots of long hill climbs in the curvy backroads of Malibu Canyon.  And the intensity only rises further the next day.  Sunday calls for 2.75 hours of hilly trail running, followed by 3,200 yards of swimming.  That's close to two miles of swimming, for those keeping score.  By far the most I've ever swam in one session.

Hey, Coach, my Ironman isn't until November!  What's the deal, yo?  Is this your idea of a Valentine's Day gift?  (Good, because it's the only one I'm getting, apparently!)

Well, I suppose it's time.  I can tell I'm now comfortable at this current level of training intensity.  That's an accomplishment on its own since I recall just a few weeks ago how hard the transition was to this intensity level.  Blogging daily allows me to maintain this kind of perspective and celebrate a moment that otherwise might have gone unrealized.  So, I lift a virtual glass to, well, myself!

<Clink!>

L'Chaim!

Now, there's only one thing left to do: Raise the bar higher.  Such is the life of an Ironman-in-training.

284 days and counting.

PS: I'd like to briefly comment on the death of the Georgian luge competitor at the Vancouver Winter Olympics this morning.  Putting the obvious negligent safety issues aside for a moment, this young man died doing what he loved.  Competing.  On a global stage.  Competing at something he trained his entire young life for. I am truly sad for him, his family, friends and countrymen.  Yet at the same time, I can think of no better way to have a life cut short if it must.

If something catastrophic ever happens to me while training for the Ironman, I will have gone out on my terms.  I can live with that.

Rest easy, Nodar.

Oh Dark Thirty

My body is adapting to Ironman training. I can workout hard during the day, go to sleep a little later at night, and wake up earlier the next day.  Take today, for instance.  I woke up at 5:20 a.m.  Well-rested.  Refreshed.  Not groggy.  On seven hours' sleep.  When my training ramped up in intensity last month, I was sleeping eight to nine hours a night.

Since I was awake so early, I decided to make a push for the pool and cram two workouts back-to-back.  Two brick days in a row.  The swim portion was pretty tough: 2,600 yards with 300 warm-up, 500 drills and then three sets of five 100-yard intervals at T-pace.  Throw in a 300-yard cooldown swim for good measure.  During the intervals, I established a new personal record for fastest 100, 1:48.  My T-pace is usually between 2-2:05.

My buddy Dustin showed up early too, which was nice.  He's been busy with work lately so we got to catch up for a few minutes prior to my workout.  One of my Fortius teammates, Lisa, was also swimming.  She's a rockstar though and had greater distances than me to cover.

After the swim, I quickly swapped clothes and bundled up for a 45-minute interval run.  The main portion consisted of five three-minute intervals keeping my heart-rate between zone 4-5a (up to around 168 bpm).  It took a few intervals to get there, but I did.

I also tried out a new product today: injinji's Performance series tetrasok.  My friend and training partner, Ann, swears by them. So I figured I'd give them a shot. Picture running on mittens for your feet.  The socks are designed to reduce blisters and enhance traction, best used for trail running.  Outside of a little awkwardness trying to fit my little toes into each individual opening, the socks performed fine.  I'll wear them again this Sunday on our group run and share my thoughts.

The best part of the day though, as usual, had nothing to do with the training.  For months, I've been frustrated by not finding a way into the beautiful man-made lake park behind the Calabasas Tennis & Swim Center.  It had what looked to be the perfect running path, but the gates are always locked.  What to do?

I found the entrance inadvertently, by running a much longer path around a block and a new stretch of road I hadn't explored before.  There, I saw the true entrance to the park, with no gates!  At last, I could run with a tranquil morning view of lakefront homes, geese, ducks, swans and the mist rising off the lake.  A beautiful sight indeed (pictured).

Sometimes it takes a roundabout journey down unexpected paths to find the view you've been seeking.

Seems like a running theme lately.

285 days and counting.

Time to Procrastinate

Full disclosure: I'm blogging to procrastinate right now. My new Garmin 310x uber-watch is staring at me, waiting to be programmed.  Begging, in fact.  Coach Gerardo is begging too.

Full disclosure:  I've had this watch for about two weeks.  It's still in the original box.  Anat likes to point this out regularly.

Tonight I've made some progress though.  All the parts are out of the box and now I simply need to download the appropriate software.  Yet I feel like the kid in that online car buying TV commercial (no, I don't fast-forward past all commercials, I'm actually an ad geek) where he can perform open heart surgery with a ballpoint pen but is frightened by the prospect of choosing the right vehicle.

I can run with bulls, sky dive or complete a triathlon... but I'm stymied by complicated-looking technology.

This from a guy who works at a video games developer.

To be fair, the actual set-up looks pretty harmless. Download some software, upload my vital stats, sync my heart-rate monitor and I'm done.  At least that's how the manual reads.

But the watch itself, well, it looks like something Batman should wear, not me.  I'm still searching for the hidden button that deploys the grappling hook.  And with all the features it sports, I'm afraid I'll try to get off the treadmill before it's time to do so and the belt will speed up uncontrollably, followed by, "I'm afraid I can't let you do that, Ryan."

So, that's why I'm procrastinating.  My life may depend on it!

I'll let you know how the set-up goes tomorrow.  I've got a blog to write now.

My schedule called for a brick workout today, spinning with hill climbs for 45 minutes followed immediately by a 30-minute tempo run with hill climbing to elevate my heart-rate to zone 4 (168 bpm).  I woke up at 6 to do it, crossing the darkened, bustling Sepulveda Pass to Equinox -- Gym of the Gods.  (My guest pass membership is expiring.  I am sad.)

The workout itself was uneventful, which is a victory since that meant I wasn't sore at all from Sunday's half-marathon.  Judging by my soaked clothes though, it was a productive workout nonetheless.  I'm finding that I need to work harder to elevate my heart-rate to the zones specified in my training schedule.  In other words, my heart is growing stronger, as is my endurance.  That feels good.

The real highlight of the day was seeing my blog featured in KNBC-LA news anchor (and now friend) Chris Schauble's "Iron News Man" blog.  To read that I'm truly inspiring others and they like what I'm writing -- it's almost overwhelming.  My blog is a labor of love, a "pay it forward" gift to my future family.  But it's becoming bigger than that, thanks to the people who read and contribute energy to it.

That energy is now adding fuel to my every pedal stroke, swim rotation and running stride.  It's permeating into my work, and my personal life.  I am growing stronger, faster, better.  I owe it to the collective energy of my friends and family, and for having an outlet such as this to dive deeply into my consciousness without fear of ridicule, embarrassment or rejection.

Thank you.

Now if only I can get one of you to program my watch.

286 days and counting.

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.