Ryan in Wonderland

I attended a screening of "Alice in Wonderland" tonight at the El Capitan Theater in Hollywood. What a trip!

Curious and curiouser still, all I could think about while watching the movie were the parallels between the book/film and my Ironman training.

Beyond the obvious "mad" reference, of course.

First, there's the notion of  accepting the challenge of attempting an Ironman.  It's a bit like falling down the rabbit hole.  You have no idea how far down it goes once you start in this sport.  You think the journey is one thing -- purely a physical test -- and then you realize the trip is something completely different.  Ironman training is really a mental odyssey that twists and turns in ways you cannot begin to imagine at the start.  You laugh initially when people tell you to expect the impossible, for example.  In my case, that came in the form of Coach Gerardo telling me I wouldn't recognize myself physically and mentally in a year.  I scoffed. I know damn well who I am, thank you very much.  After 35 years, I should.  Or, like Alice, I thought I did. Now, it's not been four months and I'm thinking of six impossible things before breakfast... while generally doing them.

However, also like Alice, some days you grow, and some days you shrink.  Your body, along with your capacity to increase your endurance and speed, ebbs and flows. Fatigue, like Alice waking up from a dream, is the determining factor.  One day you feel 10-feet tall.  And on the other, well, you just wish that Cheshire Cat would eat you and get it over with already.

Of course, there is the purely physical side too.  Instead of hanging out with a rabbit obsessed with time, now I chase "rabbits" in a race, picking off that next pesky person in front of me to shave just a few seconds off a personal best time.  And heaven forbid slowing down!  My inner-monologue might as well scream, "I"m late!  I'm late!  For a very important date!"

Curious and curiouser indeed.

In the film, Alice realizes that fantasy can be just as vivid and true as reality.  I recall day-dreaming about Ironman as a kid watching Wide World of Sports on TV.  Now, 25 years later, I'm still pinching myself about what I can accomplish despite having asthma, two flat feet and scoliosis.

Anything is possible.

Go read the book.  See the movie. Think of what's impossible in your life.  And pick each item off the list one by one, like racing to catch a rabbit in a battle against time.

267 days and counting.

From Aluminum to Tin Man

I graduated today. After running 20 miles for the first time and shaving 11 minutes off my previous Firecracker 10k time two years ago, I am giving myself a diploma. (Btw, if you're interested, my race results are here.)

I'm turning the tassel from being an "aluminum-man" to being a "tin man."

What do I mean?

I can now run up to 20 miles, which this morning included a difficult 10k with more than half the distance covered being uphill, at a fairly easy pace.  That means I know I can complete a marathon with 100% certainty.  For a guy who used to have to ice his legs down after a 10k just a couple years ago, this is a huge accomplishment for me.

Second, I'm ready to train tomorrow.  Mentally, I'm there. Physically, I may be a bit shot. I'm sore.  I hit a bit of a wall around mile 18 on my run today, which occurred towards the top of Elysian Park overlooking Dodger Stadium. My legs barked.  My back tightened.  My pace slowed slightly.  I needed to walk up a hill to lower my heart-rate.  But sheer willpower and the desire to finish strong carried me through the final two miles of the 10k and the overall run.  And I was able to sprint the final 200 yards.

Ah yes, the pre-race run.  Just a few weeks ago, I thought Coach Gerardo and his brother Ray were crazy for running 14 miles before completing a 10k.  Then, I became one of the crazies myself.

Funny what this sport does to you.

The pre-dawn run was absolutely serene and beautiful.  My partners in crime, Christina and Paul, joined me at 5:45 a.m. at the Universal Studios metro stop.  From there we snaked through Burbank, Glendale, Griffith Park, Los Feliz, Silverlake, downtown and Chinatown before arriving at the Firecracker 10k with minutes to spare before the starting gun.  Running with a full moon for an hour followed by a sunrise and the beginning of a bustling day was surreal.  The city sparkled to life in front of our eyes, literally.  By the time the race started, the sunshine was dazzling -- without a cloud in a sky.  What a way to begin a Sunday!

Another reason I graduated today: I accomplished something I previously thought was crazy and beyond my reach.  I smashed a mental barrier.

What's the next grade level?  What will I graduate to next?  I think from tin we progress to metal.  The graduation ceremony will occur on July 18, 2010, at the Vineman Half-Ironman.

Mark it down.

I'm on a mission.

268 days and counting.

Weekend Holiday

Why, hello Saturday!  I had almost forgotten what you looked like! Instead of the usual Ironman training regimen, I had an off day in preparation for tomorrow morning's 20-mile run from Universal City to Chinatown for the Firecracker 10k.  Here's a peek at the route.

To celebrate my morning of relaxation, I did what any reasonable person would do: I slept.  And slept.  Then, I slept some more.  Until about 10:45 a.m.  I needed that!

The rest of the day was fairly decadent, especially with the constant schedule I've maintained since this past November.  I enjoyed perhaps one of my all-time favorite breakfasts at Larchmont Bungalow.  People, you must try their Best of Both Worlds pancakes and brioche French toast.  Of course, I added scrambled eggs and chicken-apple sausage to it for balance.

Feeling fat and sassy, I headed to downtown LA to register for the Firecracker 10k, since I hadn't done that yet.  Then, I jetted back to Encino to Phidippides, a popular running store.  I'm replacing my Amphipod runner's belt with a Nathan, since I couldn't ever quite get comfortable with the Amphipod fit.  I also purchased compression socks and shorts to experiment for tomorrow's run.  Full report coming post-race, of course.

The highlight of the day though came tonight, at the Safe at Home charity event featuring Dodgers manager Joe Torre and my boyhood hero (make that every Jewish kid's hero), Hall of Fame pitcher Sandy Koufax.  Despite knowing I'd get home late and have less sleep heading into tomorrow's run, I needed to hear Koufax tell stories about his career since he so rarely grants public interviews.  Several heavy hitters in Los Angeles apparently agreed, as former and current Dodger players, Hollywood directors and actors, helped pack a nearly full house.  One of my favorite sports writers, LA Times columnist TJ Simers, moderated.  Simers was as feisty and crotchety as ever, but Koufax never bit, displaying his signature wit and class throughout the discussion.

Hearing Koufax' tales of tenacity during a career filled with injury, scrutiny and mystery certainly inspired me.  I will remember the pain he must have endured pitching nearly 600 innings over the last two seasons of his career as I labor before sunrise tomorrow during my run.  I will recall that in order to become a champion, you can never lose sight of your goals, but the core of your personality is even more important.  I will internalize that you can win while keeping your head down and building others up, that nobody has to suffer at the hands of your own triumph.

Yeah, I'd say it was a pretty darned good Saturday.

And now, I fade off to sleep and dream of breaking another milestone tomorrow: my first 20-mile run.

I can't wait!

269 days and counting.

Half-Day Friday

I took a half-day off from work so I could fit in a long bike ride. I'm sure this doesn't surprise any of you at this point.

Hi, my name is Ryan.  And I'm a triathlaholic.

"Hi, Ryan."

After scheduling the vacation time, the ride itself turned out not to be very long, around 1:50.  But the experience was so different and so refreshing compared to more typical morning rides that I'm quite satisfied I cashed in some holiday time to do it.  Even if it was a solo endeavor.

Despite a fairly persistent head-wind, ride conditions were just about perfect.  Not many cars, temperature around 72, decent cloud cover, and plenty of scenery to enjoy.  Deer were foraging in the brush.  Cows and horses were grazing leisurely, and farmers were meticulously paying attention to their bounties.

The image below was probably my favorite of the day.  It seemed straight out of "Babe," with a dog sternly admonishing a group of cows for doing whatever it is that cows do when they're causing trouble.  I actually stopped the bike to wait for a small piglet to chant, "Bah Ram Ewe!  Your sheep, your fleece, your clan be true!"

No such luck.

The relaxing ride conditions allowed me to enjoy the scenery more. I noticed homes that I've never seen at a certain angle.  Hills with lush green grass that I've overlooked in the past. The valley floor atop Portrero Road, looking like what I'd expect the Texas hill country to be more than suburban Los Angeles.

Everyone should take the opportunity to look up every once in a while on their cycling journey to appreciate everything around them.  Hopefully it won't take you a mid-afternoon weekday jaunt to do it.  Wished I had noticed these things sooner, because it only adds to he beauty of the experience.

Since Coach Gerardo's instructions were to ride however I felt, I took it fairly easy today.  Though my heart-rate climbed to about 156 bpm at the peak of Portrero Road returning from Newbury Park, I typically was riding in the 120-140 bpm range.  I noticed that the first part of my ride was definitely at a slower pace.  The fatigue factor from earlier in the week seemed to come back and bite me in the butt.  Once I descended Portrero Road down towards Lynn Road, I got my legs under me.  That was about 45 minutes into my ride.  I wonder if it takes me longer to warm up now, which would account for my sluggish bike ride on Wednesday when the entire ride lasted the same amount of time.

Now that I'm back at home to enjoy the rest of my afternoon, I can look ahead to a day off of training tomorrow and ultimately the monster that lurks in the distance, at 20-mile run that will culminate with the Firecracker 10k in downtown Los Angeles. I remember when a 10k was a significant fitness achievement in my life.  I literally cried when I completed my first 10k in 2008.  Now, it's a training run.  Damn.

Happy Friday, everyone!  Mine's started off just right.

270 days and counting.

Smashed Barriers

When Coach Gerardo told me at the beginning of my training that I wouldn't recognize myself at the end of the year, he wasn't kidding. My first real dose of that came today in the form of a surprisingly fast swimming time-trial.

I broke the two-minute mark in my 1,000-yard TT, averaging 1:58 100s (final time was 19:42).  And it felt great!

I could have swam longer, harder.  Honestly, I never thought I'd break two-minutes.  If there was a podium and a trophy right now, I'd stand up proudly and give a speech.  They really would need a hook and the exit music to yank me off stage.

But the morning didn't end there.  My buddy Dustin joined me for a 45-minute intervals run immediately after the swim at the dazzling lake behind the Calabasas Tennis & Swim center.  The company was welcome and made the time fly that much more.  It's so much better to have a friend to train with -- even if he's slightly annoyed at me for how much this damn sport costs!  (Sorry, dude.  I know!)

Maybe Dustin's presence gave me a boost.  Maybe I finally recovered from the weekend prior.  All I know is that yesterday, I felt sluggish and afraid that I was entering the over-training red-zone.  Today, I was a completely different athlete -- better, stronger, faster.  It's like I smashed through a fitness barrier, real and imagined.

As I sit here typing, I'm not sore in the least.  My spirits are buoyed and I can't wait for my two-hour bike ride tomorrow. I'm actually taking a half-day off work to fit it in.  Another sign that I'm truly becoming an Ironmadman!  Using vacation time to cram in a long ride.

Gerardo was definitely right...I don't recognize myself after three months of training.  I'm an addict!

271 days and counting.

Sluggish

Some words sound just like what they are.  I know there's a grammar term for that, but I don't feel like looking it up.  Ironic statement to follow. Sluggish is one of those words.  If I were an alien from another planet trying to decipher what sluggish meant, I'd think it means to slug through something.  To struggle.  Over-exaggerate.  Over-work.  Or, pop a slug in me, because I'm just about finished.

Any of those terms or phrases would describe my brick workout today.  Whether it was the earlier start (7 a.m.) the semi-cold, dewy morning or just plain fatigue, my legs felt stiff and heavy on the bike.  My brief six-mile time trial portion of the 45-minute spin was close to pathetic, with an average of around 17.5 mph that spanned nearly 21 minutes of pedaling.  Granted, there was more traffic (and therefore slowdowns) than usual.  But c'mon!  Really? Gah.

I quickly transitioned to a 30-minute run, which felt closer to 30 years. Maybe today would have been a good day for music to fire me up a bit.  Honestly though, I don't know if it would have made a difference.  On the positive side, I ran my old jogging route that was my stand-by for all of last year and completed the loop with a much lower heart-rate while maintaining a similar if not greater speed.  So I had that going for me, which was nice.

Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was fighting with myself. Almost dragging myself around town, whether it was on the bike or my own two feet.  I can't help but wonder if this is the dreaded "over-training" wall people keep telling me about.  Or, maybe it's just a cold, considering I've been fighting an illness for about a week now without really telling anyone.

Don't worry, mom, it's nothing. I'm warm, well-fed, and yes, I'm wearing a sweater.

Anyway, no west for the weary.  Tomorrow I have a swimming time-trial, which I'm mentally looking forward to.  Physically, I hope I can answer the call.  Following the swim, I'll quickly be transitioning to a 45-minute run featuring five, three-minute hard interval runs in zones 4 and 5a.  That's up to 168 bpm, baby.  I hope I can sustain that rate.  Fortunately, my buddy Dustin will be joining me in Calabasas bright and early.

Well, what I really hope is that I sleep in or through my workout.  That I wake up late, saunter to Jinky's for a massive breakfast, and that I don't do anymore training the rest of the week. Nah, make that the rest of the month!

But I won't give in to that kind of sentiment. That's not my m.o.

Besides, I don't do sluggish.

272 days and counting.

Less is More

Six-thirty this morning came and went uneventfully. Just what I wanted.  Cool sheets, warm blankets and fluffy pillows rarely felt better.

Thanks, Trudy.  Thanks, Bam-Bam.

Frankly, I needed a break.  A rest.  A pitstop.  Time to cool the jets, if only for an extra hour's sleep.

It really paid off.  When I finally removed myself from the comfort of my bed (for a change not shoved out by Trudy and Bam-Bam's pounding) around 8, I felt refreshed.  Re-energized.  Re-engaged.

Ready for the day, and the rest of this week's training.  I didn't really miss much, 45 minutes of one-legged spinning drills on the trainer.  Coach Gerardo has told me in the past I can essentially skip one workout a week and still hit my goals, so I cashed in that check today.

So worth it!  The extra time relaxing in the morning, enjoying a rush-free breakfast, starting to program my Garmin, was worth more than the physical workout.  The mental rest that came with it far outweighed any incremental physical benefit I may have attained.

To top it off, I took a yoga class at lunch in our work gym.  The workout wasn't great -- the room was cold, the lights were bright and the music was a bit too loud -- but the experience of collecting my thoughts and breath for an hour cancelled all that out.  And my stressed muscles desperately needed a mellow stretching session.  Though this yoga class required more stopping for Child's Pose than I'm used to. No biggie though.

What a relaxing day.  Now, I'm ready for the rest of the week's training, which tomorrow consists of a tempo brick and culminates this weekend with a 20-mile street run.

Sometimes, less is truly more.  A light day of training will pay big dividends in the coming days.  I'm fired up.

273 days and counting.

Recovery Day?

I thought Mondays were supposed to be recovery days. Guess that's in the past now.

After a weekend consisting of a 15-mile trail run, 45-minute swim, 53-mile bike ride and a 15-minute transition run, I was back at it again this morning.  Hard.

First, I swam 2,500 yards, highlighted by 15 100s at 2:10 pace.  Slow for many, but after this weekend, it was just fine. Though I did most of the sets between my normal T-pace, 2:05, and 2:10.  Somehow. I'm still trying to figure that part out.

The toughest part of the swim wasn't even physical.  It came in the form of an impromptu lesson from my lane-mate, a very fast swimmer I met named John.  He said I wasn't gliding enough at the end of my stroke, meaning I wasn't leaving my arm extended for long enough.  In addition, though John said I had a strong upper body and my legs were good (really?, Coach Gerardo thinks my kicking sucks), he mentioned my arms were entering the water much sooner than they should be.  And that I was bending my elbows too much. This runs counter to what Gerardo was trying to get me to do, entering the water with my pinkie fingers touching the plane first in order to more effectively engage my hip rotation.

Swimming is such a technical sport, and I honestly have no idea what I'm doing sometimes in the water.  Just when I think I'm improving, I find that I have more bad habits.  I'm a little frustrated, to be honest. Am I getting better, or getting worse?

Fortunately, the second half of my workout, a 45-minute "recovery" run completed this evening on the treadmill, went smoother.  That was actually part of the problem though.  With my elevated heart-rate zone settings, it's more difficult to reach a speed that gives me the workout I need.  For example, when I was really out of shape (2007), I could run at 5 mph and my heart-rate would probably have been around 150 bpm.  Now, I can run at 6.4 on the treadmill and my HR is firm at 140.  So, a recovery run doesn't feel like much of a relaxing recovery at all when I'm dripping with sweat and the treadmill is making that high-pitched whiny noise that sounds like how I typically feel at the end of a workout:"Whhhhyyyyyyy????"

I suppose it's a good problem to have though -- feeling like you're in such good shape that what used to be a full-fledged workout is now considered a "recovery."

Wow.  That was an eye-opening moment for me tonight.

What's next, a 50-mile "recovery" spin?  A "recovery" two-mile swim?

At this point in my Ironman training, nothing surprises me.

274 days and counting.

Racing the Rain

What an ominous-looking day in SoCal. From Balboa Park in Encino to Simi Valley, threatening grey clouds and the wind competed with each other for intimidation supremacy.

Fortunately, the Fortius group started our group ride early enough to avoid the raindrops.  My teammates had a six-hour ride today, or approximately 85 miles.  I was lucky, my assignment was "only" four hours with a brief 15-minute run thrown in at the end.

I accompanied the group to Simi before they turned left at Los Angeles Avenue towards Wood Ranch and Thousand Oaks while I continued straight to visit my parents.

That's where the fun began.

I was so excited to see my folks and surprise them that I forgot to take my keys out of the front door lock.

You can imagine my surprise when I arrived back to Encino two hours later with no keys and eight voice mail messages from my parents.

Fortunately, my dad was nice enough to drive out to drop them off, and I bought him and mom breakfast as a humble, embarrassed thank you.

The part in between though, the actual visit, was great.  I enjoyed a quick snack of berries, chatted about the pseudo-high school reunion I attended last night and terrorized mom with my camera.  I promised I wouldn't show the picture below, but I honestly don't think it's that bad. Do you?

I was supposed to show the latter image instead, since it highlights my mom's real pride and joy: her new kitchen.

Back to the ride.  Despite yesterday's trail run and swim, I felt pretty solid on the bike.  The Santa Susana Pass climb becomes easier and faster each time I make it.  The descents do too.  I was certainly ready for the ride to be over by the time the four hour mark ticked off on my heart-rate monitor watch (NO, not the Garmin.  Soon.  Honestly.). Overall, I was pleased with my performance today.  Door-to-door from Simi to Balboa Park on my return trip, with several traffic stops and two brief snack pauses: one hour, 56 minutes.

I'm definitely ready for a nap now though. Or an Epsom salt bath.  Or a massage.  Or bon-bons.

Just anything but more exercise, OK?

Especially if it's going to rain.

275 days and counting.

Take that, Boney Mtn Trail!

Progress in Ironman training, or any kind of training for that matter, comes in many forms.

I can be physically measured, emotionally felt, experienced or visualized.

I was fortunate enough to experience all of these moments during this morning's trail run up Boney Mountain in Newbury Park.

Perhaps the morning was pre-ordained for greatness because I no longer felt the urge to bundle up to avoid the chill.  Like plopping into the pool instead of dipping, I'm finally prepared to handle the cold weather without fear of cramping or getting the chills.  So, in 47-degree weather, I rocked the shorts and T-shirt.  Felt good, too!  Crisp. Light.

The run itself was meant to be a litmus test, though I secretly think the test was rigged. Coach Gerardo didn't allow us to use our runner's watches (in my case, STILL my Polar!) or heart-rate monitors.  We were supposed to run however we felt like running, with "be smart" as the only suggested guideline.  I took that to heart as best I could, but really I felt like an uncaged wild animal from the get-go.  Like I was totally free from the science of the sport and returned to the sheer art and joy of it.

Despite some heavy calves at first, I felt great from the first mile all the way past the 15th, about where we finished.  Physically, I experienced the sensation of gliding along the muddy hills even when I should have felt winded.  Just a couple months ago, during my first Boney Mtn trail experience, I did a lot of walking.  Lots of huffing and puffing too, combined with a shortage of water and proper nutrition.

Last time out, the low-hanging branches and plants that clawed at my legs felt like they were doing their best to push me backwards.

This time, the rain-soaked vegetation reached out to high-five me as I breezed by.

Emotionally, I ran without fear or anxiety.  I knew I belonged in the Fortius training group.  I was part of the team.  I could even help lead it every once in a while.  And it felt good.  Further, the views were spectacular, a steel gray cloudy morning interrupted by patches of teal sky and an apologetic sun for all this wet weather we spoiled Southern Californians have been experiencing.

Speaking of experiencing, I don't think just a couple months ago I could even have run with an understanding of what "be smart" meant.  Though I pushed myself a little hard at parts today -- especially while scampering up the steep hills toward the top of the trail -- I always ran at a measured pace. I was in tune with my heart-rate.  I knew when to push forward, pull back, speed up and slow down.

Never before have I felt so at one with my own body and mind.

And, the visualization, well that's easy.  I can clearly remember parts of my first Boney Mtn trail run where I thought I was in over my head.  The ascents were never-ending.  The terrain caused me uncertainty.  The breaks were too short while the duration between them was too long.

The smile on my face at the top of the peak here is me remembering all those moments and realizing that the person holding the camera this time has changed a lot since then.  On more than one level.

In short, it was a kick-ass run.

And then I swam with Mike for 45 minutes to the tune of 1.25 miles.  Dare I say it was soothing and relaxing?

What's happened to me?

I am becoming an Ironman.

276 days and counting.