An Exclusive Fraternity

I had an interesting conversation with my buddy John this morning. We were talking about industry-related happenings when he asked me how I was doing post-engagement.  I told him that I actually felt different. Like I actually had changed inside just a little.  I had always heard about this mental shift, that "something just clicks" in your brain when you enter into the world of engagement and marriage.

It's true!

No longer is it just about me. While that was really fun for 35 years, I know that I have a far greater responsibility now.  To be a true partner in all aspects of life, putting Stephanie  and her needs at the top of the list with my own.  It means when friends want to visit from out of town, discussing first with Steph before blindly saying "Sure!  Come on over and crash on the couch."  I never used to think in those terms -- didn't have to.  But now, it's instinctive.  We...not me.

John chuckled when I shared this revelation.  "Welcome to the fraternity," he said, adding that there's a tighter bond among married guys than single guys because of thoughts just like this.

Huh.  The strange part is that I thought I was done with fraternities in college.  But I can say I'm as excited to enter this exclusive club as I was my freshman year at the University of Arizona.  The same sense of wonder is there.  Maybe a little anxiety too, of the unknown.  The motivations are different, but just as powerful.

I suppose you could say I'm now a pledge in Mu Delta: Married Dudes.  I'll become an active sometime between next February and July.

***

On the Ironman training front, I had my first brick workout in weeks. Instead of training in the morning though, I waited until the late afternoon, when I joined LA Tri Club and Fortius Coaching members on a 90-minute bike ride up and around Griffith Park followed by a 30-minute trail run.  I held my own but think my heart-rate was a little higher than I'd like, mostly zone 4 for the long hill bike climb that takes you to the Griffith Park Observatory.

I've never ridden up the long hill that passes the Hollywood sign.  The road is in poor shape but the climb is a very good workout.  And the reward -- a postcard view of the Los Angeles basin -- makes it all worth it.

Clearly though, the best part of the workout was having training partners to enjoy it with.  I'm going to shuffle my schedule around in the future to do the Wednesday bricks -- working early in the morning and leaving earlier in the evening.  It makes such a difference not to have to wake yourself up at the crack of dawn to train alone.  Plus, it keeps Steph happy since she knows I'm likely to be safer in a group setting.

And these are the things I want to consider now -- especially since it's likely in the Mu Delta pledge manual.

237 days and counting.

Let My Freedom Go!

Today is the second day of Passover, the Jewish holiday where we commemorate the Jews' exodus from Egypt and recall how special it is to be free of persecution.  We drink lots of wine (four glasses during the traditional Seder), sing songs, and offer prayers of gratitude.  Not to mention eat a metric ton of food and desserts that camp out in our bowels for about a week.  That may partially explain why the Seder mandates we recline more deeply during the service as a measure of our ability to enjoy ourselves to the fullest at that moment in time. We simply can't move after the meal!  So we might as well get comfortable!

Passover coincides nicely with my quick return to Ironman training.  Of course, this is ironic because I feel like I'm losing my freedom again just a bit, especially after my past week of decadence. My body is protesting ever so slightly too, as in refusing to wake up this morning in time for the Fortius team 6 a.m. swim.  I looked at the clock at 5:20, quickly deciding "uh-uh" before turning my alarm off for another hour's rest.  Going from eight to nine hours of sleep for a week back down to six just wasn't going to happen the morning after a massive food coma.

My extra snooze time paid off though, as I arrived to the pool around 7:45 a.m. to find Coach Gerardo along with swim instructor, neighbor and friend Megan training in a nearby lane.  OK, I didn't really see them at first and trained on my own for about 30 minutes with drills while racking up a pretty pedestrian 1,000 yards.

But the next 30 minutes, I was lucky enough to receive intensive instruction from Gerardo and Megan on all the things wrong with my swim technique.

Folks, there's a lot.  Too much to recite here.  Probably too much for a 30 minute session.  Let me put it to you this way, if I could start over and learn how to swim from scratch, I would.  I think I pretty much suck at swimming at this point.

Fortunately, Gerardo and Megan are not Egyptian taskmasters when it comes to their coaching.  They patiently showed me that once again, I'm not extending my arms fully before entering the water, and that I'm just not relaxed enough -- which translates to wasted energy.

It took several laps and frustration before I experienced any modicum of progress, but by the end of my workout Gerardo said I was getting the hang of it.  I was keeping my elbow higher longer through the stroke, dragging my fingertips out of the water longer before entering at the last possible point in the stroke. And I was shifting my weight from side to side better, using my hips more effectively.

I thought, "Cool, if you say so."

I'll just keep practicing.  Honestly, I've never felt more like a fish out of water in the water.  Swimming is practically like one of Pharaoh's 10 plagues at this point, as in people feel sick after watching me swim!

During lunch, I participated in a yoga class at our work gym.  One big thing I noticed during my practice was how tight I had become just with one week of inactivity.  The body really does operate like a well-oiled machine, and when that machine isn't being used -- rust sets in. Probably faster the older one gets.

Joy.  Not only am I a slave to a schedule, but I'm a slave to my own body.

Which makes me wonder: Am I my own worst taskmaster?

Wait, don't answer that.

238 days and counting.

The Luckiest

Yesterday, I mentioned that one of my favorite Ryan/Stephanie songs is "The Luckiest" by Ben Folds.  It's a song that only begins to describe how I feel about my journey with Stephanie.  There's so much emotion in the singer's voice and I really tap into that feeling. Tonight though, I have to say it means something a little different.

The 21st Century dictates that nothing is considered "official" if it isn't posted on Facebook, Twitter or even Foursquare these days.  So when Steph and I posted our engagement news on Facebook, I knew we'd both receive some congratulatory comments.

What I didn't expect was the near 100 comments and wishes from friends and family.  Many of whom I haven't spoken directly with in years.

I truly feel among the luckiest people to have such a loving and supportive group surrounding me in my life.  While it only takes literally 10 seconds or less to post a "Mazel Tov!" or "Congrats!" on someone's wall, it really makes a difference.  I felt truly flattered and humbled by all the sincere gestures.  I would say it even added some extra time on the after-glow of the celebration of our announcement.

So, thank you, everyone.  Thank you.

On to the rest of my day.  Besides starting my first day as Steph's fiance, I returned to the world of Ironman training. The workout was simple: 40 minutes of easy spinning and 40 minutes of easy running.  Emphasis on "easy."  However, I felt really good this morning!  It's amazing what a week of rest can do for your body.  I did my best to hold back on the bike, but it was hard not to crank up the gears on the trainer.  I remember just a couple weeks ago how hard it was to get out of just the first gear.  Today, I wanted to pedal in the big chain immediately. I hope I can maintain that energy level for longer moving forward.

I enjoyed the run even more. Not for the physical activity itself.  But rather the feeling of running again.  The way my warm sweat cooled instantly in the balmy morning air.  The gentleness of the very slight breeze glancing off my visor and glistening forehead.  The long-lost bounce in my steps.  My pace was less than stellar, roughly 9:45-10:00, but the gentle zone 2 heart-rate assured me I had a lot more fuel in the energy tank than just a few weeks ago.  It makes me wonder whether my new Garmin would have helped me run a smarter LA Marathon had I better understood my pacing levels by using it sooner.  But then again, I know the kind of half-marathon pace I ran, and today I was intentionally holding myself back.  I'll keep an eye on this budding hypothesis.

The evening concluded with a Passover Seder at my parents' house in Simi Valley. Long-standing family friends joined us, along with my sister and her boyfriend, and Stephanie, of course.  In the past, I used to be so stressed out about whether my family would accept Steph, what Steph was thinking and feeling, and what I could do to make the situation better.  I cannot express how grateful I am that I don't have to think like that anymore. We all felt like a true family tonight.  A different kind of family, since my grandparents are no longer an active part of our lives.  But I know they would have been so happy at the sight of seeing a new generation of soon-to-be Schneiders experience a traditional family Seder.  It may be a little frenetic, a little crazy and a little off-the-wall.  But our Seder is our Seder, and it's truly one-of-a-kind.

I can honestly say I look forward to family events so much more than I have in the past.  It's nice to share them with the person I had always wanted to.

I am indeed the luckiest.

239 days and counting.

How I Met Your Mother Part 3: She Said YES!

I capped my week off from Ironman training the best way I knew how: I proposed to Stephanie.

Fortunately, she said YES.

We're engaged!  After five years and our share of ups and downs, we are finally going to get married!

(Yes, I know the first question you probably have now is, "When!?"  The answer is we're looking at February or July 2011.  Possibly May, but not likely.  We'll keep you posted, trust me.)

I'm guessing the second question is, "How did you propose???"

Well, here's the story.  For your reading pleasure, and our future kiddos, I give you: The Great Engagement Caper

Stephanie thought I couldn't surprise her.  She knows I'm a terrible liar and believed as a result that I was incapable of keeping a secret from her.

I took that as a personal challenge to prove her wrong.  And with help from her best friend, Annie, along with Steph's parents and a few other close friends, we conducted the ultimate shock and awe campaign.

First, the set-up.  Our first date was near Laguna Beach, at a restaurant called The Beach House.  Our first kiss was on Forest Street, just a couple blocks away.  As a result, I wanted to propose where it all started.  To do that though, I needed an excuse to get Stephanie down to Orange County without her suspecting anything.  Fortunately, she had family in town from Fresno and Hawaii, so that made yesterday an ideal opportunity.

Since Steph had a feeling I'd pick Orange County as the proposal site, I needed a secondary story to keep her guessing.  That's where Annie came in.  She and her husband of five months, David, married at the St. Regis Hotel in Lagnua Niguel.  So Annie and I made up a story that she and David were commemorating their marriage vows a little early at the hotel, and since we were down in the OC that she'd love to meet us for a celebratory drink.

Steph bought it without any hesitation.

The trap had been sprung.

The Ritz-Carlton in Laguna Niguel is across the street from the St. Regis on Pacific Coast Highway.  The St. Regis is on the left side of the road, and Ritz is on the right.  Instead of turning left into the St. Regis to meet Annie and David, we'd veer right, check in, and arrive to an ocean-view room decorated with rose petals, chilled champagne (thanks TJ!), and chocolate-covered strawberries.  Then, I'd pull the pouch out of my pocket with the ring, and propose.

The tertiary story was the ring itself.  I bought it on March 14, and the jeweler told Steph and I it would be ready in a few weeks. I tried to confuse Steph about the exact pick-up date so she wouldn't be expecting a proposal within a certain timeframe.  She didn't really accept that premise but it clouded the situation enough to help me distract her a bit.  All that mattered was that Steph wasn't expecting a proposal last night.

The truth is that I've had the ring since this past Monday, but it was ready three days after I bought it (thank you, Mr. Gabay!).  This is notable since Steph kept warning me not to keep the ring anywhere near my home since she would sniff it out.  Of course, I knew she wouldn't sniff in my gym bag at the foot of my bed, which is exactly where the ring and the wedding band hid for an entire week, including days where Steph stayed home from work since she got sick.

Guess her nose was clogged.

Anyways, back to the Great Engagement Caper story.  Yesterday's events started perfectly.  Annie, with the help of Steph's roommate Lucy, packed an overnight bag for Steph and gave it to me at 11:30 a.m., on my way to a conveniently scheduled haircut.  After a few hours apart to run errands, I picked Steph up at 4 p.m. from her apartment, complete with my overnight bag to stay at Steph's in Los Angeles.  See, she thought we were coming back to LA after the family outing, her friend Lauren's housewarming party and we were supposed to have drinks at a new rum bar in downtown LA after that.  Annie threw her the St. Regis curveball though.  Still, to keep the ruse in place, I had to bring a dinner jacket for the rum bar we weren't going to check out and hiking clothes for the Sunday hike we weren't going to embark upon.

Lots of bases to cover!

We made it to Steph's grandmother's home ("Oma" in Dutch, which along with Indonesian is Steph's family background) on time for a fantastic afternoon barbecue.  There were several members of Steph's family present, including Emily, perhaps the most adorable little 4 3/4-year-old girl I've ever met.  And she plays one mean game of Rock Band on her own iPod Touch, no less.  Emily shredded on a 42-note streak to a Foo Fighters song.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is the future of gaming.

The hours quickly melted away at Oma's and I realized there was no way we were going to leave by 7:45 to make Lauren's housewarming party.  I whispered in Steph's ear that she should tell Lauren she can't make it and to reschedule her visit if we wanted to meet up with Annie and David still.  Reluctantly, Steph agreed.

Phew!

Eventually, we left Oma's around 9:10 p.m. after another 30-minute extension.  Considering I had the hotel booked five hours prior and the ice and chocolate were being set-up  in the room at 9, I was getting antsy. As we sped towards Laguna, Steph still had no idea what was about to transpire.  This was confirmed by her attitude when I exited the 73 Toll Road at El Toro Road instead of taking the tollway longer to make up time.

"You're going the wrong way! We're going to be another 25 minutes late now. I can't believe you're going this way.  This is so far out of the way"

Grumpy, grumpy, grumpy!

Of course, there was a method to my madness.  I wanted to take the long way so we could drive by The Beach House, drive by the site of our first kiss and generally stroll down memory lane.

Steph texted Annie that we were going to be late and huffed.  Of course, Annie immediately texted back telling Steph not to worry, that David and her were having a fabulous time and not to rush.  What a surprise.

Then, momentum turned in my favor.  We drove by our special sites, Steph relaxed and we cruised towards two separate destinations: The one in Steph's head and the actual goal.  As we approached both hotels, I switched my iPod from shuffle mode to a special mix of our favorite songs (see, '80s style tape mixes aren't dead after all!).  I knew I had two songs before she'd catch on that it was a music mix and not just a coincidental quirk.  The first song was "Married Life", the signature song from Pixar's UP, and the second was "The Luckiest," by Ben Folds.  Steph lightly protested when the second song came on, calling b.s. that the iPod could possibly match both songs back-to-back.  I kept my cool though, promising I had nothing to do with the anomoly and to just enjoy it.  She relented.

Phew!

Before the song even ended though, we had arrived at our destination(s).  As we approached, I slowly veered right.

Steph: "Honey, the St. Regis is to the left."  "Babe, you're going the wrong way."  "Babe!  The left!"

I turned gently on to Ritz Carlton Drive.

Ryan: "Change of plans, babe."

What ensued for the next 10-15 minutes was a jubilee of shock, denial, joy and shouting.

We glided in to the Ritz valet and Steph simply couldn't believe we were checking in. "I don't even have an overnight bag!" she exclaimed.

My favorite line of the night, what I had been waiting to utter more than any other besides, "Marry me":

"Gotcha covered.  And you thought I couldn't surprise you, eh?"

Steph staggered behind me  as she followed to our room, Number 4514.  I think she was murmuring something about not believing I could pull off such an act for so long, but it was jumbled by her own shrieks of joy and excitement.  We opened the door to the room.  She saw the elaborate set-up.

I pulled the pouch from my pants pocket, no longer having to feel like Frodo.

Hands shaking, I produced the ring, reminded myself to get on one knee and said:

"I love you.  Be my wife.  Marry me."

I always figured Steph would cry and not even be able to get a "Yes" out of her mouth.  That was kind of true, but it was because of shock, not just the emotion of the situation.

Of course, Steph managed to find a way to say yes.  We spent an hour talking about all the details of the Great Engagement Caper, including how I raced down to Irvine this past Tuesday evening to meet with her parents to formally ask their permission.  I had told her that I was attending a Fortius team yoga session and belated birthday dinner for Coach Gerardo.  She bought that too, though Steph today admitted she had a fleeting feeling on Thursday that I was indeed with her family.  She quickly put it out of her head though after remembering that I brought my yoga mat and clothes into the house.

Gotcha again!

We've been celebrating ever since.  Twenty-four hours of celebrating, literally.  Breakfast in the hotel room on the balcony overlooking the Pacific.  Enjoying the hotel pool.  Brunch at The Beach House.  Hunting for the exact spot of our first kiss (and debating about it).  Dining with Steph's parents at their favorite family restaurant.

And now, 24 hours later, home.

As an engaged couple.  The first day of a new life together.  With all new adventures to come.

I can't wait.

And tomorrow begins my re-emergence into Ironman training. I can't wait for that either.

In some ways all this feels like a triathlon on its own. I'm transitioning from one big phase of my life to another.  It's exciting, a little hectic and really just a big blur.  You can plan all you want, but come race day, you just have to go with the flow a little and hope for the best.  And, if you're lucky, everything works out perfectly, like it did last night.

I completed a massive sprint after a long marathon, and am now looking ahead to the next big event.

Marriage.  The ultimate Ironman.

240 days and counting.

Basking In Others' Achievements

It was so strange to sleep in this morning and to not be on the road, in the pool or on a trail. Most of my friends were, in fact. At big races, no less.  Richard did the Oceanside 70.3 Half-Ironman.  Anat, Ray and Gerardo ran the Cheseboro Half-Marathon.

Me?  I'm relishing the final moments of luxurious weekend free-time before jumping head-first into a hard-core training regimen.  The next big goal?  Vineman Half-Ironman.  July 18 is the target.

I'm currently on the wait list though, which adds a little bit of drama.  I should be able to get in though.  At least I'm planning for that.  The one big change I'll make for Vineman that I learned from my LA Marathon experience is to focus more about the event in front of me and less on the ultimate goal, Ironman Arizona. I need to respect each race on the calendar and not take anything for granted, the way perhaps I did with the marathon.  I assumed I'd be in great health and I'd hit my goals.  The actual race kind of snuck up on me since I was so focused on November 21 and not March 21.  You simply can't look ahead of any race, since the message I hear over and over from my training friends is that nothing matters except how you feel the morning of the race.  That's it.

Lesson learned.

One thing that I've also noticed throughout my weekend day of relaxation has been the joy I'm getting in hearing how my friends did at their races.  It's nice to sit back, not compare times, or be busy at the race myself.  I get to relax and celebrate others' accomplishments with them without a hint of competition or distraction.  I really like it!  I'm very happy for both Anat and Richard, who absolutely slayed their respective races.  It fuels my motivation to get back out there.  I needed that!

The rest of the day is going to be busy, which is why I'm writing now.  Steph and I have a family barbecue in Orange County, followed by a housewarming party for one of her closest friends, Lauren.  I'm excited to see everyone, and get my grub on!  Indonesian barbecue can't be beat!

One more day of non-training.  I'm right where I want to be: Eager. Energetic.  Excited.  MOTIVATED.

Ready.

241 days and counting.

Part 2: How I Met Your Mother

Here's the summary from today, so we can get on to the good stuff:

-- I slept in until 8:30 a.m.

-- I had four pieces of pizza for lunch.  Yes, I had salad too.

-- I enjoyed white rice with my chicken bowl for dinner -- bad carbs... scandalous!

-- And Carvel ice cream for dessert!

Yep, my down-time is going great.

But that's not what I'm going to blog about.

Instead, I'm going to write about the first time Stephanie and I met.  Why?  Because today we took the second-biggest step any modern couple takes when signifying a committed, long-term, stable relationship.

We changed our relationship status on Facebook.

Yep, I know.  Huge.

So how did this five-year odyssey begin?  Some of you know the story, many do not.  My future children certainly don't!

Kids, this is how I met your mother.

Friday, January 20, 2005 started off like any normal day for me.  I worked for a few hours and was preparing to enjoy our company's free catered Friday lunch when I realized we were having sub sandwiches.  Yuck!  I can't stand sub sandwiches, especially the kind that are catered to events because everything is soggy and you can't get rid of the smell in the kitchen for hours.  I left the office immediately, which worked out conveniently enough since the Beastie Boys' new album, To the 5 Boroughs, was hitting stores that day.

I used to think I was the forgotten fourth member of the Beasties.  I suppose every Jewish kid does at some point!

BTW, future children: An album, in this case something called a "compact disc" or CD, is what old people used to listen to their music in the late 20th Century and early 21st Century.

Fortunately, there's a Best Buy and food court a few blocks from where I work.   (Kids, places like Best Buy were referred to as a "retail stores", where people used to go IN-PERSON to buy their goods. Crazy, I know!)  It would be the perfect spot to grab a bite and the new CD before heading back to work.  I ended up going to Sbarro for a slice of pizza.  Funny thing is that I NEVER go to Sbarro for a slice of pizza.  In fact, I hadn't been to that Sbarro in the entire year of working at my company prior to that moment.  I have no idea what motivated me to do so.  This is important because I had gone to my usual spots in the food court (e.g., Sharkey's, California Sushi Roll) I would likely have been eating indoors.  Instead, I chose to enjoy the warm weather and slight breeze outside at a table by myself.

I had been minding my own business at the table or a few minutes when out of the corner of my eye I saw three people walking towards me.  No, wait... they're girls!  No, wait... they're three GOOD-LOOKING girls... and they're still walking towards me!

Who's the one in the middle, I thought.  Wow, she's gorgeous!

That would be Stephanie, wearing a pink sweater and white collared button-down shirt, hair flowing, hips swaying.

Pretty woman... she's walking back to me?  Really?

"Care for some company?" That's what Steph said to me.

I looked around.  There didn't seem to be any other tables available, so it made more sense that they would want to share a spot with a lone guy.  Still, I wasn't complaining.*

Now, my inner monologue was far different at this point than what came out of my mouth.  I realized immediately that this situation was not normal, and if I acted like my "normal" self I'd probably screw up a potentially Good Thing (TM).  So I instantly decided to be like George Costanza in Seinfeld and do everything opposite what I'd normally do in a moment such as this.

That meant playing it cool.

"Sure, go ahead," I said casually.  Meanwhile, what I was thinking was, "OH HELL YEAH!"  Followed by, "Am I being 'punk'd' by Ashton Kutcher? Game developer dude gets three pretty women surrounding him at lunch and hi-jinx ensue?"

Stephanie and her two friends started their lunch, giggling and chatting excitedly about women's shoes.

There's a lot I can take, but if you're going to crash my lunch party of one, PLEASE don't talk women's footwear.  I mean, come on.

"Ladies, I don't mind you sitting here at all, but is there anything else to talk about besides women's footwear?"

Why yes, yes there was.  Me!

Stephanie changed the subject to what my story was: What did I do for a living, where I was from, etc.  Turns out that she wanted to pursue a career in communications and marketing, which is what I was doing.  At the time Steph was an intern for The Walt Disney Company, hence her reason for eating lunch in Burbank.

It was her first time eating in that food court.

Are you sensing the "meant to be" factor yet?

Steph and I proceeded to entangle ourselves in debate about whether an MBA was necessary for marketing professionals. (Steph was pro and I was anti-MBA).  The chemistry was evident from the very start.  We spoke rapidly back and forth; it was as if Steph's other two friends weren't even at the table.  We maintained eye contact the entire time, which was easy considering I was hypnotized by her beauty and uncharacteristic poise, polish and charm.  I kept thinking to myself, "who IS this girl???" But I had to keep playing it cool.  This whole moment was just too good to be true, I thought.

So, I did what any cool, calm and collected dude would do -- I finished my slice of pizza and excused myself from the table.

"Ladies, it was truly a pleasure meeting you.  I'm going to pick up the latest Beastie Boys CD now and headed back to work.  I hope you have a great weekend."

And I started to walk away.  I was literally prepared to leave the conversation, which is mind-boggling now considering that Stephanie is going to be my partner for life.

Thankfully, Steph's friends caught on to what was happening and intervened.  One of them butted in and said, "You two have so much in common, you should exchange business cards or something."

THANK GOODNESS!  I was jumping up and down inside but had to play it cool.  So I did exactly the opposite of what I'd normally do: I reached into my wallet, pulled out a card, casually flipped it on the table and told Steph, "Sure, call or email me any time.  Happy to chat."

And that was it.

She emailed me that night.

I served as her mentor for six months.  The chemistry was explosive.  We began dating in June 2005, a story I'll save for another time.

To this day, Steph tells me how stunned she was that I didn't ask for her number.  I honestly figured that the moment was so unexpected that I shouldn't over-reach because I might spoil it.  Those gals already made that Friday special for me, so why screw it up by being like all the other guys and ask Steph out in front of her friends?

I can't be more grateful that one of Steph's friends saw the situation differently and gave me the perfect opportunity to continue the conversation.

A conversation that blossomed into a friendship, into a romance and into the greatest thing that's ever happened to me.

So, kids, that's how I met your mother.  And there's a lot more where that came from.

242 days and counting.

* = Years later, Stephanie would admit that there WERE other tables available. She spotted me and wanted to sit with me.  It's at this point that I should point out that Steph has trouble seeing clearly from far away, so her judging if I was good-looking should be balanced accordingly!  I should also point out that I was wearing beige pants with a subtle plaid pattern.  Had Steph seen those pants sooner, which I referred to as "angry grandpa pants", she is the first to admit that she probably would have sat someplace FAR away from me!  Can't say that I would have blamed her.

Eat Well, Train Well

Day 4 of my week off of Ironman training went well.  I slept long, ate large -- including a lunch feast at Cecconi's in West LA -- and generally relaxed. I suppose it was the perfect time for a seminar on nutrition.

Tonight's discussion at Runnergy off Ventura Boulevard in Sherman Oaks was sponsored by Fortius and served as the perfect wake-up call that my respite was drawing to a close.  And that I probably should watch what I'm eating a little more this week.

Though I don't regret for one second the BBQ ribs, McDonald's cheeseburger, chili-cheese hot dog, ice cream, cookies and wild boar pappardelle ragout pasta consumed at various points during the week.

Damn, all of it tasted great!  Makes my mouth water a little just thinking about it.

At least now I can better appreciate just how bad that stuff is for me.  The nutritionist offered several pithy reminders of how diet and proper race nutrition can dictate your performance.  Some examples:

-- Have you "eaten a rainbow" today?  Simply put, picture a rainbow as symbolizing all the colors of the fruits and vegetables you should consume every single day.  Me? Today I got as far as green (lettuce), red (tomatoes), orange (carrots),and  yellow (banana).  Overall, we're supposed to have nine servings of fruits and veggies per day.

-- What color is your pee?  (Hope I'm not getting too personal.) If you're drinking enough water, it should always be clear or near-clear.  If your pee looks like beer then you're dehydrated.  If it's neon green then you've wasted your money on expensive multi-vitamins, which usually only absorb in your body at approximately 30% capacity.

-- How much water should you drink every day?  Believe it or not, divide your body weight in two and take that number in ounces.  For me, that's roughly 66 ounces of water every day, or approximately eight glasses of water (assuming roughly 80z per glass).

-- When it comes to carbohydrates, brown is your friend, white is not.  That sucks, because all the "good" tasting stuff is generally white (rice, pasta, white bread, flour, etc.).  But, the sugar goes straight in and out of your body.  "Brown" carbs (wheats, grains) stay in your system longer.

So what did I do once I heard all this information tonight?

I went home and ate Trader Joe's mint-n-chip ice cream.

Don't. Say. Anything.

That said, I'm getting more and more excited to get back on the training regimen.  I bounded up the stairs at work today, which is a sign that my energy level is returning to normal. I even jogged to a couple meetings today and to my car after work.  I love the feeling of feeling better.  I'm not all the way there yet, but am honestly about 90% now.  Can't wait for the final 10% to kick in!

Who knows, maybe I'll be eager to work out a little in the morning.

Nah.

243 days and counting.

Getting Back to Good

It's been 10 days since I last felt "normal." (Note: Some reading this blog would debate my definition of "normal.")

But I'm getting there.  Today was the first day I started to walk with moderate to little pain whether from illness or the LA marathon.  My legs are still sore, don't get me wrong.  But it's not accompanied by stiff shoulders and an achey neck.  My throat is noticeably tender but not raw.  My feet don't feel swollen or broken, though I owe our company massage therapist, Abby, for that.  Just 30 minutes with her this afternoon made me feel exponentially better.

And I'm getting caught up at work too.  My inbox is close to empty and workflow is back on track.  The past few days I've felt discombobulated in the office.  Like I was operating in a fog while trying to get better from the cold, prepare for the marathon, and catch up from the video games conference.  Finally, I can see some daylight.

And it looks good!

Meanwhile, I'm enjoying my time off from training this week.  I'm eating whatever I want (today that meant BBQ ribs for lunch), catching up on sleep (9-10 hours a night), spending quality time with Stephanie (even though she's sicker than I am right now) and generally starting to unwind a bit.

In other words, I'm getting back to good.

I'm hopeful this will help and not hurt my training in the long-term.

Time will tell.  I'm getting excited for Monday, but am glad it's still a few days away.

244 days and counting.

So That's What Happened

I went to the doctor's today. You know, about eight days too late. Turns out that while I indeed had a cold that definitely contributed to my demise at the LA Marathon, allergies played a big role too.

Allergies?  I haven't had allergy problems for years.

Think again.  My recent trail runs and bike rides to Hidden Valley came at the peak of spring, when all sorts of pollens were in full bloom.  As a result, my throat tightened, my glands hardened, my lungs overworked, and my breathing suffered.  This led, according to the doctor, to fatigue, which ultimately contributed to my body saying "enough is enough!" on Sunday.

So, as if I was 9 and getting allergy shots, I'm on medication again.  Flo-Nase and Allegra.

The good news is that I'm feeling better already.  My throat is starting to loosen and isn't quite as sore.  My eyes, while dry and droopy, feel a little lighter for getting so much sleep the past few days.

I'm going to take the rest of the week off from training, no matter how I feel. I think it's time for a little break.  Time to heal the muscles and just relax for a few days.  I'll get back to the training grind this Monday.

After all, I've got another triathlon coming up.  The next goal: Newport Beach triathlon on April 11.  Mark it down.  I will be ready. More than ready!  I'm getting fired up just typing about it.

But for now, I'm more fired up for a good night's sleep.  A full night's sleep with no training jolting me out of bed at the crack of dawn.  Yup, a mini-training vacation.

G'night.

245 days and counting.

A Race About Friendship

The LA Marathon won't be remembered for my performance.

I finished in 5:11, nearly a full 1.5 hours slower than I had hoped.  Sickness and fatigue shut me down at mile 9, somewhere between the end of Los Angeles and beginning of West Hollywood.    I don't quite remember where, but I remember when.  I was running with my buddy Chris and we both were steadily maintaining a 9:00-mile pace after a quick opening sequence of 8:35-minute miles.  However, as I monitored my heart-rate during the first hour of the run, I realized I was high in zone 5, around 166 bpm.  Something was very wrong, considering I was running slower than anticipated and in a full two heart-rate zones higher.  At that point, we came to the 10-mile water stop and I told Chris to continue ahead without me.  I needed a break.  He said he'd wait, but I knew better.  The race was over for me.

Chris disappeared quickly into the sea of runners.

Even though I was surrounded by people, I felt totally alone.  Dejected.  Defeated.

Angry.

I had trained so damn hard for this moment, nearly five months.  And it was gone in an hour.  Gone.

I tried to jog the next couple miles and watched as my pace slowly deterioriated.  Even with more effort, my times were slowing.  Ten-minute miles became 11.  Eleven minutes became 12.  With each step, I became angrier and more frustrated.

This wasn't fair!  I didn't deserve this!

Then, I remembered those poor kids from the Starlight Foundation.

THAT wasn't fair.

I started to pull it together around mile 13.  But then, I was rounding the corner onto La Cienega from Sunset when I ran into my Fortius teammate, Christina.  She was off to the side, walking.  I knew something terrible was wrong for her too.  Sadly I was right.  She pulled a quad muscle and was done for the day.  She couldn't bend her leg. Tears in her eyes, we hugged.  The day hadn't turned out the way either of has had imagined, and she's got an Ironman in six weeks!  I did my best to console her, and then she was gone.  Crossing the barricades to meet her husband for what must have been a sad ride home.

Again, I was alone.  Strangely, I had come to peace with the race by then.  I calmly resigned myself to two choices: Quit, or finish.

If I quit, nobody would blame me.  I was sick.  I was tired.  I hurt.  But, if I quit during the marathon, maybe I'd quit during the Ironman?

It's like cheating in a relationship.  If you do it once, you are capable of doing it multiple times.  That's not my style.

And there was more to it than that. Now that Stephanie and I are finally together, once and for all, I wanted to show her what I was made of.  What I really was made of.  That no matter how much the pain hurt.  Now matter how tired I was. No matter how I felt, I wouldn't EVER quit on her.   I would never quit on us.

From that moment on, at Santa Monica Boulevard and La Cienega, there was only one thing on my mind: Finish the damn marathon.

The next four miles were rough, but entertaining in a bizarre way.  West Hollywood was festive to say the least.  The crowds were boisterous and the street performances were lively.  The cross-dressing cheerleaders were definitely the highlight.

Then it was onto Beverly Hills.  Here I received a big boost from my friend and co-worker, Jason, and his wife, Jen.  They waited extra long for me to hit Wilshire and Rodeo Drive even though their friends had long past that checkpoint.  They walked a few blocks with me until I turned onto Santa Monica Boulevard again towards Westwood.  Their support and positive encouragement really made me feel good.  Despite my best efforts, I was still pretty dejected about my day.  But they helped put it in perspective that I was still going to finish something special.

Unfortunately, as much of a mental boost as that was, it quickly dissipated.  My body started to lock up and break down around mile 16.  I was walking almost full miles at this point.  I had no ability to run more than a few hundred yards before my heart rate would blow up again.

It was at this point that I saw the best familiar face possible: My longest-tenured friend, Kevin.  I've known Kevin since damn near pre-school. We've played soccer together.  We went to elementary school together.  We went to high school together.  We backpacked Europe together.  We've run half-marathons together.

And now, we've run the LA Marathon together.

Out of 25,000 runners, I literally had run into my best friend!

Kevin was having problems too with his marathon.  His knee was locking up.  And it was at this point I realized what the true point of my first marathon would be: It was a race about friendship.  Whether it was supporting my buddy Chris at the beginning, Christina in the middle, or Kevin in the end, this wasn't about performance.  It was about perspective.  About support.  About friendship.

The rest of the marathon was painful.  My feet felt broken.  My calves were incredibly tight despite wearing compression socks.  My IT band swelled.  But it was OK.  Friends such as Jennifer and Ryan showed their support near the Mormon Temple in Westwood.  Jason and Jen drove down to Brentwood to cheer me on and offer some refreshing coconut water at mile 22.  Stephanie kept me sane and motivated throughout the morning with text messages.  Corey and Maggie texted me telling me they were waiting at the finish line.

How lucky am I?

The final few miles couldn't have progressed more slowly.  My body was totally breaking down.  I'd shuffle a few yards, stop, wait for Kevin, or vice versa, and we'd continue walking. Cursing, but walking.  Questioning, but not quitting.  Never quitting.

FINALLY, the finish line was in sight.  Kevin and I tried to pick up the pace heroically, but all I was doing was searching for Stephanie, or listening for her.  That's all I wanted.  I just wanted to tell her that this race was for her.  That there was no quit in this body.  Not for the race, not for anything.

Kevin saw her first.  He pointed her out and I stopped everything to run across the packed street to give her a huge hug behind the barricade, just 10 yards from the finish.  Apparently my family and friends were right behind her, but honestly I only saw her.  It was a special moment.  All the pain and frustration was worth it.

I finished the LA Marathon, arm around Kevin.  We did it.

I will run better marathons.  I will set more personal bests.  But I don't know if I'll ever have an experience as special as my first marathon.  And I owe it to my friends.  To my family, including my parents who woke up so early after flying across the country the evening before.  To my sister and her boyfriend, who showed up just in time for the finish after having friends in town to entertain.

And, surprisingly, to the residents of Los Angeles, who lined the streets for nearly the entire route supporting us crazy marathoners.  I may not have acknowledged all of them, but I sure did hear them and appreciate their presence.  This city sure is beautiful when it wants to be.

Like the Randy Newman song, I love LA.

And today, I paid the price during recovery.  I left work early due to exhaustion even though I slept nearly 10 hours last night.  I'm still coughing up all sorts of stuff, and my legs are stiff and achey.

But it's a good kind of pain.

The kind associated with finishing something I started.

246 days and counting.