Achey Breaky Body

From the neck down, I'm starting to feel better. I broke my fever in the wee hours of the morning -- no, I didn't feel the earthquake -- and my foot has been pain-free for two days now. From the neck up, I'm a mess.  My neck and shoulder muscles are tight to the point that I can't look past 90 degrees on either side.  My throat feels like it's embedded with glass shards that tear at anything approaching solid food.  I know because I couldn't take soup anymore today (after two pints from Canter's and one large serving from Dupar's) and ventured out for a Subway sandwich and later on, a burger.  Caloric intake temporarily overtook sensibility.

I spoke with Coach Gerardo late this evening to get a sense of my chances for the LA Marathon.  He still thinks this sort of thing is very normal and explained why.  Apparently when the taper phase occurs shortly before an important race, the body is tricked into thinking that it's OK to shut down and repair itself.  Therefore, your immune system is more susceptible to illness.  Further, pre-race illness is a symptom of the beginning phases of over-training.  Those factors, coupled with my trip to San Francisco and attending a convention contributed to my downfall.

It makes so much sense, but that doesn't make this any less frustrating. I've worked too hard to come this far and be denied a kick-ass marathon.  Won't.  Happen. Period.

One positive indication of my recovery came via an hour of yoga from home using a DVD that Stephanie loaned.  Yesterday, I didn't have an ounce of energy to even move around the house.  Today was different.  Better.  Progress.  Once again, solitary yoga turned out to be so much more productive than a group session.  I was able to focus on purely nasal breathing the entire time, along with focusing exclusively on form and not what others in the class were doing and how they looked by comparison.  Despite my kvetching about my neck, all other body parts seem to be getting back to normal.  That is encouraging.  And with my massage tomorrow with Abby, I'm hopeful she can push me over the top.

We'll see how tomorrow goes.  For now, it's time to get some more rest.  Apparently 12 hours and an hour nap today weren't enough.

252 days and counting.

A Tale of Two Selves

In the sport of triathlon, mental outlook is almost everything. Thanks to a long-time friend and colleague, I was reminded of that this morning -- on Twitter, of all places.

My friend Patrick, responding to my "woe is me!" tweet about being sick before the marathon, replied, "@ryanps74, the @theiornmadman makes this a positive."

Sometimes the most powerful of motivations comes in the simplest of messages.  Not even a full 140 characters!  Though I find it amusing that both people mentioned in the tweet are one person.  How can that be?  It's such an image to me: my normal "ryanps74" self laying on the couch, ill and down for the count, while my alter-ego, "theironmadman" is being summoned to overcome and persevere.  A tug-of-war between two selves.  One dogged and downtrodden, the other energetic and excited.  One defeated, the other indefatigable.

Four months ago, there was only one "me."  Now, apparently there are two.  And perhaps, like a superhero, I can try to summon "theironmadman" not just when competing in a triathlon, but in other aspects of my life.  It honestly had never occurred to me prior to Patrick's tweet.

When I started my Ironman journey, I knew I'd become a better athlete, but I never considered I'd morph into a different person.  It's interesting that others can see the makings of a transformation on the outside while I failed to recognize it occurring from within.

Thank you, Patrick.

Now, I'll shut down for the night.

I've got a fever to beat back.

253 days and counting.

7 Days til the Marathon and I'm Sick!

I've heard of this phenomenon and was hoping it wouldn't happen to me.  Coach Gerardo told me recently that coming down with an illness in the days leading to a big race typically happens about two weeks in advance.  And it's perfectly normal. Surprise!  I'm sick.  And a giant blitzkrieg at that.

But instead of a fortnight, I've got seven days to rest, hydrate and make sure I don't lose my physical or mental edge before the LA Marathon.

Crap.

The achey body, sore throat, watery, itchy eyes and hot-to-the-touch skin all struck at once -- about five hours after an otherwise uneventful trail run at Chesebero Park around 9 this morning.  In fact, I did very well on the 30-minute tempo portion, clocking sub-8:00 miles and never exceeding an 8:15 pace.  That said, my plantar fasciitis is acting up on the arch of my left foot, to the point where I could barely walk the rest of the day.

I'm definitely getting worried.  I feel like I'm starting to fall apart.  I suppose it was bound to happen after pushing myself so hard the past few months. Or after a few days of shaking hands with all types of folks at the video games conference. (I even used Purell an ungodly amount of times, what gives!?) But one week before the race? Really?

(Fortunately, all this happened before our afternoon of engagement ring shopping, which went really well!  More details another time when I know she's not reading over my shoulder.)

As Stephanie can tell you though (or my parents), I'm a bit dramatic when I don't feel well.  In fact, can you feel Steph's eye-roll?  Perhaps it's because I'm so used to being in good health that it accentuates my pathetic-ness when those rare moments occur.  Maybe it's because I watched too much Ferris Bueller's Day Off and identified more with Cameron growing up.  Either way, thank goodness for Steph tonight.  She's taking good care of me with Canter's matzah ball soup, lots of herbal tea and cold medicine.  I'm a lucky dude.

To be safe tomorrow, I'm taking the day off work.  I need to rest and sleep as much as possible to beat this with enough time to resume my training pre-race.  It literally is a race against time, and I hope my body is up for the task.

Come on, Ry.  Don't fail me now.

And Ferris, wherever you are, don't even think of calling me.  I so will NOT pick up.

"When Ryan was in Egypt's land...LET MY RYAN GO!!!"

254 days and counting.

A Cycling Reunion

Proving that real men wear pink, my colleague and cycling mentor, Frank, returned to road cycling today.  As some of you may remember, Frank has been inactive on the bike since New Year's Eve, thanks to yours truly. Though he hasn't ridden outdoors more than a couple times in three months, I can declare with certainty that Frank didn't miss a pedal stroke today.  We rode from the Starbucks at Agoura Road and Lindero Canyon Road to the top of Portrero Road in Newbury Park and back, along with some diversions.  Total ride time was three hours, which equated to 1,186 calories burned.  According to my Garmin watch, we climbed grades up to 17% and Frank handled it all, even beating a much sleeker-looking and powerful cyclist on the lengthy downhill just past Sylvester Stallone's place atop Hidden Valley.

I was impressed.  Granted, Frank has been training in our workplace gym, using the recumbent bike and torturing himself with the intensity meter cranked up to 18 out of 20 on hill climbs for up to six-minute intervals.  I've tried that, and I can barely handle 1-2 minutes.  Since I made a Stallone reference before, I'll say now that when it comes to cycling, Frank is not human.  He is like a piece of iron.

Enough bro-love.  Seriously.

After our bike ride, I visited my grandmother at the Jewish Home for the Aging.  I expected to find her in her room, watching TV quietly.  She wasn't there though. Instead, I found her and 12 of her friends in the dining hall... wait for it... watching Inglorious Bastards for the "movie of the week."

Seriously.

I guess it doesn't matter how old you are, killing Nazis never stops being appealing.

My day of training continued later in the afternoon with a threshold-pace swim of 2,600 yards at the recently refurbished Van Nuys-Sherman Oaks public pool.  While I may be able to knock out a 100-yard sprint in about 1:55, it seems my T-pace for longer intervals (300, 400 yards) is about 2:02-2:03.  The latter mirrors what I swam last week during the Desert Tri event.  I know I originally indicated a 2:14 pace, but when I re-calculated at the suggestion of a fellow racer, I discovered that I swam the 500 meters at a 2:03 pace.  Now things make more sense.  The good news is that I maintained that pace even after the three-hour bike ride, a hearty lunch and a couple-hour break.  Though, to even things out I am trying new techniques in the water such as dragging my fingertips more to relax and enter the water later in my stroke.  I'm also trying to make my kicking more fluid, capturing the same motion when I use the Zoomers.  It's a little overwhelming right now but I bet I'll get the hang of it come Ironman time.  If there's anything I've learned from this experience is that progress happens every day, it's just that sometimes it can't be seen or felt.

My day didn't stop at the pool.  Nope, not by a longshot. I quickly showered at the pool and motored to Triathlon Lab in Santa Monica, where I tried out some tri-bikes.  I'm looking at the Felt B2 and the Cervelo P3.  Not sure which bike I'll get yet, but I at least know the 52" in both can fit me well.  They're both gorgeous bikes, each offering carbon frames with top-of-the-line componentry and decent wheelsets.  I'm leaning towards the Felt so far, so if you have any feedback I'd love to hear it.

Finally, my long day concluded rather unexpectedly but for the better.  I was planning for a quiet night home alone with laundry, paying bills and video games.  Instead, my buddy TJ and I met for dinner and a movie. More bro-mance.  We saw Green Zone, the new Matt Damon flick about WMDs and the Iraq insurgency. I'd rate it about a 7.5 on a scale of 1-10.  Fairly predictable plot but decent action and acting.  Not a particularly memorable movie, but enjoyable nonetheless.

I can't believe how long and busy today ended being.  And I enjoyed every minute of it.  Now I need to power down and grab some rest before doing it all again tomorrow.  After a two-hour trail run at 9 a.m. (which will feel like 8), Stephanie and I are going engagement ring shopping.  I'm excited!

From bro-mance to romance.  This weekend has it all!

Seriously.

255 days and counting.

Home Again

TGIF Today that stands for Thank G-d It's Finished!  My convention is over.  Well, actually the show continues through tomorrow.  I wanted to get back early so I could continue my pre-marathon training.  Is that wrong?  I don't think so.  The panels were a success, I had time to attend a few sessions and bring back knowledge to the team, and even played a few games.  My favorite part of the conference was getting some hands-on time with the new PlayStation Move device.  The Move will probably get a bad rap because critics will likely say it's three years too late compared to the Nintendo Wii.  I say whatever.  It's cool!  It's fun to use and will bring PlayStation families closer together to enjoy more wide-ranging and accessible games.  Like ping-pong, for example.  The Move wand really makes you feel like you're holding a paddle, complete with very authentic response when it comes to grip and the resulting spin you can put on the ball.  I can't wait to challenge Stephanie with it!  She and I will probably get as competitive as when we play Wii Bowling.

The conference feels like a distant memory at the moment though.  I'm tucked into bed at Stephanie's place, ready to cram in some sleep before waking up early to resume my training featuring a three-hour bike ride with my cycling mentor, Frank.  He's finally healthy enough to ride after I contributed to his shoulder injury.  (I still feel awful about that!)  We're doing the old standby ride, Calabasas to Newbury Park via Portrero Road.  I'm eager to spend time with Frank on the road once again.  Hopefully he'll see some improvement in my riding.

After the way I ate in San Francisco though, I doubt it.  Man, I fell off the nutrition wagon for a couple days!  Buffalo burgers? Check.  Milkshakes?  With beer in them?  Yup, courtesy of the Burger Bar in Union Square.  Crispy tacos and fried Chinese food?  Been there, ate that.  Seconds?  Yes, please!

Ya know what?  I don't regret it one bit.  Ironman training needs to take a back seat to life every once in a while, and when it comes to good food and good company, it's as good an excuse as any.

I return from San Francisco amped up to resume my training.  The conference almost served as a mini vacation, shuffling up the routine a bit.  As much as I found it annoying by the trip's end, I'm sitting here relaxed and happy realizing it was probably the best thing for me after several weeks of intense workouts.

Granted, I ran two out of the three days I was at the conference.  But the scenery switched things up just enough, as did the conference schedule, to bring some freshness back into the daily monotony.  I needed that.

Which is good, since I have eight more months of this!  Not to mention a marathon in 10 days.  We'll be talking more about that in the coming days, I'm sure.

For now, good night!

256 days and counting.

I Want My Routine Back!

Most people would love to be in San Francisco on a beautiful day for a convention.  Especially a video games convention. Not me, to be honest.  Not after nearly 15 years of conventions and conferences spanning the automotive, consumer electronics, entertainment and video games industries.

I love the video games industry, don't get me wrong.  I really do!  I'm truly passionate about the creativity and innovation within the space, but most of all I love the energy associated with a group of young people changing daily how the world perceives this electric, eclectic art form (yes, it's an art).  I participated in a panel discussion addressing some of these points and many others today during the convention itself.

So while I love the video games industry, I've arrived at a place in life where I love my lady, sleep, nutrition and exercise even more.  My routine.  And conventions aren't exactly conducive to a healthy routine.  Or at least my slightly obsessive routine during the past several months.  Fortunately, today was an off-day in my training cycle so it was easier to have a "normal" convention day filled with mediocre food, loud noise, standing on my feet all day and partying later than normal.  The convention routine, in other words.  Tomorrow, it's back to the training grind.  I'll try to cram in an hour time-trial run along with an hour of yoga while trying to catch a flight home and wrapping up morning sessions at the conference.  Not exactly sure where I'm going to find the time to fit everything in but it's really not an option.  With just about 10 days to go until the LA Marathon, I simply cannot miss a day of running from here until the race.

I remember just a few years ago how eager I was to take business trips all over the world.  And I was fortunate enough to have that opportunity many times over.  Now, I just want to stay home and maintain my training routine. Is that wrong?  Am I old now?  Is this what lame feels like?

I don't know, and I don't really care.  I've been on the road for not even three days and it feels like a week.  I want my routine back!

I love you, San Francisco, but get me out of here!  Get me home!

257 days and counting.

My Heart is in San Francisco

I've had the fortune to run in some beautiful cities around the world.  Copenhagen.  Malmo.  Geneva.  Vancouver.  New York. Santa Monica.

San Francisco is now among my favorite.

As a Dodgers fan, it pains me to say I like anything about this place.  But the fact is, after running six miles this morning with an industry buddy of mine (also a writer for Sweden's version of Runner's World), I think San Francisco offers just about everything a runner could ask for.  If I were to devise a ratings system for the best running spots in the world, it would likely include:

• Scenery
• Varied terrain (flat, hills, trails, road paths)
• Friendly pedestrians/motorists
• Weather

I'm probably missing a few, but you get the idea. Today, San Francisco checked off nearly all four on the list.  Of course, the only thing preventing an absolutely perfect score on the run was the blustery weather.  Then again, at least there wasn't a cloud in the sky at 8 a.m.  No fog.  No rain. Pure sunshine.  A great way to start the day.

My friend Thomas and I ran from my hotel at 4th and Market up Powell Street to California.  From there, we navigated the daunting hills until we reached Van Ness, turned right at Jackson Street and looped around until we hit California once again.  The views of the Bay and Golden Gate bridges high atop the hills were spectacular.  If I didn't forget my camera at home I'd show you, so the generic web image atop the blog post will have to suffice! (We actually did run that hill though!)

This morning's workout called for a hills run, and wouldn't you know it, San Francisco has plenty to offer.  I could really feel my training pay off as I was surprised how easily I was able to bound up them and not feel winded at the end of the run.  In discussing with Thomas, I concluded that running hills is mostly mental.  If you look forward to the hills and see them as a big opportunity to improve speed and endurance, then they are fun. If you just want to "get through them," hills suck.  Which best describes you?

Capping off the run were the many motorists and pedestrians who moved their cars or bikes back off the crosswalks so Thomas and I could pass easily. That just doesn't happen in LA!  The best part though?  A bunch of kids waving to us from the charming cable car chugging up California Street.  Just one tiny memorable moment on a year-long journey.

I've always felt that the best way to get to know a city is to run or bike around in it.  Today was no different.  As a SoCal native, I used to be anti-NoCal by nature.  After just an hour's run today, my stance is changing dramatically.

I can't wait to get back up here and run again soon.

258 days and counting.

You Can't Take That Away From Me

Sometimes I feel like I'm a double-agent in my own life. From around 6 to 10 a.m. during the week, I'm the Ironmadman.  I fight sloth, gluttony and temptation by trail, path, road and water.  On wheels, via foot or freestyle.  I am a lean, mean, training machine!

Then, from 10 a.m. until 10 p.m., I'm Joe Working Guy.  Behind the desk.  In meetings.  On conference calls.  Multi-tasking.

Today was one of those dual-identity days.

Less than 12 hours after last night's yoga session, I swam with the Fortius team at 6 in Sherman Oaks.  We worked extensively on technique, which I really needed following my performance at the Desert Tri on Sunday.  I learned a valuable lesson doing the fingertrip drag drills, which are what they sound like.  You can really can go faster by slowing down.  There's something to be said for effortless movement and working with the water, not against it.

Following the swim, I immediately changed into running gear for an hour jog.  I had until 8:20 on the dot to finish, because I had a plane to catch.  Fortunately, Coach Gerardo's brother, Ray, ran with me.  Ray is also the race director for the LA Tri Club and an accomplished ultra-marathoner.  He helped push me a little farther and faster, and kept great company along the way.

As fast as I felt on the road, that's how fast I needed to move to stay on schedule to meet my flight out of Burbank Airport to San Francisco.  From the moment I left the pool shower to now, I've been on the move.  Since 5:30 a.m.  And it literally feels like two separate days.  One part of the day I lived for me, the other I lived so I could pay for more days like the first part!  I'm amused by how separate both experiences today feel, as if I crammed two days into one. I think that's the delicate danger of business travel -- you have to guard those precious moments of free time like a rabid pitbull because meetings, dinners, parties, etc. all can easily hijack your routine.

I'm proud to have carved two hours of training out of a packed day with travel and meetings.  I did something for myself today.  But I'm happier to be alone in my hotel room before 10 p.m.  That means one thing for me tomorrow: The Ironmadman will rise early.  Ready to run.  And no matter how busy the day gets, nobody will take that away from me.

259 days and counting.

Thank YOU For Your Support

One of my favorite TV commercials when I was a kid featured two old farmer-looking guys talking about their small wine cooler company, Bartles & Jaymes.  They always ended every ad the same way, "...and thank you for your support." It has stuck with me for some reason, beyond just being an advertising junkie.  These people (probably actors) were thanking me for supporting something that would have been illegal for me (I was 14!), yet they were "sincere" in making me feel like I was a part of their success.  I found that touching even though I couldn't articulate why at the time.

That is exactly how I feel about participating in the sport of triathlon.

While the journey to Ironman Arizona has been mine, it certainly hasn't been mine alone.  Family, friends both old and new (yay Fortius Coaching and Twitter!) and a fantastic girlfriend have enabled me to reach a new level of joy that simply wasn't attainable training alone.  This past weekend competing at the Desert Triathlon in Palm Desert exemplified what it means to have a deep and strong support network.  First, the outpouring of encouragement and understanding when I announced my relationship with Stephanie was deeply touching.  I've never received more comments on my Facebook page or my blog. Then, the on-site race support.  So inspiring given the tough weather.  People rallied even harder to cheer their friends on.  And of course, following the race at Las Casuelas Mexican restaurant.  What a great time!

Friends, new and old, in person or virtually speaking, thank you for your support.

Yesterday following the race, I wrote about my somewhat disappointing swim/bike times that were outweighed by the happiness I felt after my most enjoyable triathlon event in my nascent "career."  The volume of Twitter replies and explanations for what may have happened during the race and why was helpful.  For example, my new friend Dan told me to re-calibrate my times using a different triathlon pace converter.  Turns out I was only :10 off my new T-pace, much closer to my 2:05 original T-pace from a couple months ago.  Further, I was only 1 mph off my normal T-pace on the bike instead of 3 mph.  That makes a huge difference in my performance psyche.

Twitter friends, thank you for your support.

Tonight, I enjoyed a recovery yoga class with the Fortius Coaching team at Topham Street Gym in Reseda.  Despite our hectic work days, nearly all of us made it to the class. There's something special about knowing we're all in this together.  That no matter how busy we are in our "regular" lives, we depend on each other in an odd way to simply "be there" at events like this.  When it's a busy Monday night.  When we have other things to do, like packing for a four-day business trip that begins tomorrow, for example.  When it's easy to pack it in, in this case literally, and skip the workout.  We are accountable to each other, whether we know it or not.

Team Fortius, thank you for your support.

Tomorrow begins my longest business trip of the year.  I'll be gone starting tomorrow, returning Friday afternoon.  (I'm definitely blogging though, so stay tuned for the Ironmadman... LIVE from San Francisco!) Fortunately, I'm tapering for the LA Marathon so I won't miss that many workouts.  I'm even more fortunate though that I'll be meeting some friends for group runs during the mornings of the convention I'm attending.  Dedicated people like myself.  Eager to find time amidst the chaos to take care of themselves.  Helping me take care of myself.

Thank you for your support.

260 days and counting.

What Cannot Be Measured

The danger of a sport filled with metrics -- pace, heart-rate, watts, splits, cadence, T1/T2, etc. -- is that once you understand the data, it's easier to objectively analyze your true performance. The metrics indicate that I finished sixth in my age group out of 20 for the sprint portion of the 11th Annual Desert Triathlon today, good for top 22% of all males and top 13% overall.

However, my individual pace times tell the real story.  And for two out of the three events, I woefully underperformed.  As you know, my swim T-pace has steadily decreased the past several weeks, to the point of 1:55 per 100 yards.  I was most excited to see how much time I'd shave from my overall finish thanks to my new-found swimming prowess.  Today, for my first open water swim of the year, I swam at a 2:14 pace.  Wow.  Worse yet, for the 14-mile bike portion of the triathlon, my pace was 17 mph.  Are you f-ing kidding me?  Granted, I brought my "beater" bike, the one I use on the trainer at home, since I didn't want to risk crashing in the rain on my prized Colnago.  My Scott Speedster is a veritable tank compared to many of the other tri-bikes I was competing against.  (For the record, it also probably saved my life when I crashed last year!) But still, I wouldn't have expected such a decrease in speed.  No excuses either way.  I pedaled hard, but rode slow.

Fortunately, the run was a different story. I've never run a faster three miles, not by a longshot.  My pace was an astonishing 6:36, which is 21 seconds faster than my previous fastest recorded mile time.

In that regard, I can definitely see my training paying off.  That, and the fact that I'm not remotely sore tonight as I'm sitting on my couch typing.

Still, I can't help but feel a little disappointed in my performance.  I realize it's the first race of the year, and I'm definitely happy I placed so high given this was a competition between two huge Southern California triathlon clubs, Los Angeles and San Diego.  On the other hand, I have a lot of training left to do.  A lot of ground to gain.

I think my biggest lesson learned today was to arrive to the race more prepared.  I missed packet pick-up yesterday due to printing the wrong email from an LA Tri Club dispatch and screwing up the cut-off time.  So, I was a frazzled upon arrival, scrambling to put the appropriate tags and stickers on my bike minutes before needing to meet at the starting point.  This left me little time to warm-up, let alone use the restroom for my ritual pre-race jitters. There's a fine line between being relaxed before a race and being careless and unfocused. Before I knew it, I was at the starting point playing with my goggles when the gun went off unexpectedly (no countdown warning?!) to start the swim.  I wasn't even ready!  Being caught off-guard in a sprint triathlon shotgun swim start is not a good way to place high.  As a result, the rest of the swim I felt like I was playing catch-up.  It wasn't until I was halfway finished with the swim (about the 250 meter point) that I started to hit a comfortable T-pace groove.  And by then it was too late.

Fortunately, the race itself wasn't even the highlight of the day, or the weekend. While the best part of the weekend was sharing the experience with Stephanie, a close second was bonding even more with my Fortius Coaching teammates and Twitter buddies (@fittorrent, @chaibot, @rcmcoach).  What a talented and fun bunch!  Each member of the group brings a healthy attitude and friendly spirit to every practice, meeting, party and event.  It's so much better training with people you care about than slogging through the experience solo.  There were so many memorable moments with them: Saturday night at our pre-race meal, cheering wildly for each other during the rainy, cold race, and partying together afterwards for a three-hour Mexican food feast.

In the end, my teammates and Stephanie made the Desert Tri a special experience. Not the metrics themselves.

Funny that the best thing about a race can be the parts you can't measure.

261 days and counting.