A Surprise Training Partner

Talk about a role reversal. Usually I'm the one who jumps out of bed in the morning ready to train.  This morning, like the past few days, I just couldn't find the energy to rally.

Along comes Stephanie, who decided to join me for an easy run in my neighborhood.  She was chipper and bounded out of bed.

"Good morning! Good morning!" she exclaimed, dancing around the house.  (Of course, her photo doesn't back that claim up, but that had more to do with surprising her with the camera at 6:30 a.m.)

Ugh.

Fortunately, her energy charged me up.  This was the first time in several months that Steph decided to come running with me, mostly because my Fortius training schedule called for an "easy" run.  I convinced her last night that easy meant running at any pace I wanted to and that she wouldn't be holding me back.

Getting Steph to hold herself back though, that's another story. She has always liked sprinting as hard as possible for as long as possible, until she just couldn't exercise any more.  I used to tell her that her exercise style was somewhat of a metaphor for how she lived life -- never slowing down, rushing from one thing to the next, go-go-go-go!

This morning was different though.  I was able to show Steph the value of pacing.  We started off with a walk for five minutes before transitioning into something loosely resembling a jog.  We gradually increased our speed but never accelerated beyond a capacity to hold a conversation.  While it was hard for Steph at first -- not going at full throttle meant to her that she wasn't burning calories -- she stayed with the plan. Easy does it.

We maintained our casual pace for about 20 minutes before Steph had to get back to the condo and prepare for work.  I told her from the beginning the goal of the workout was for her to feel like she had more left in her fuel tank when she returned home.  She should feel refreshed and energized, not winded and spent.

That went out the window at the last street corner.  Steph ratcheted up the speed to about my 10k pace for the last 200 yards of our run...and gasped for air once we reached the front steps of the condo.

Old habits die hard!  I didn't discourage her either, running side-by-side and letting her dictate the pace.

We walked another few hundred yards to restore her heart rate.  After bidding my new training partner adieu, I continued my jog for another 40 minutes.  I wonder if my watch was broken because it certainly felt like I was running faster than 11-minute miles.  But, that's what the Garmin indicated.  I suppose it had something to do with last night's brick but I felt better than my speed indicated. Strange.

Now, I'm signing off to pack for this weekend's training activity:  Fortius Racing Goes Camping.  That's right, my Ironman training team is heading up to the site of the Wildflower Triathlon on May 1-2 for a weekend of training and instruction.  It's a four-hour drive from Sherman Oaks, so I'm taking the rest of the week off from work.  How many people take a vacation to work out?

Only us crazy Iron Madmen!

I likely won't have internet or cell phone access starting this afternoon, so there won't be a blog entry for Friday and probably Saturday.  Considering that my new spam filter indicates only a couple people are clicking on the blog links via Twitter, I know you're probably not that broken up about the break.

I will take plenty of photos for those friends who are competing at Wildflower and write a full report on what to expect.  Until then, get out there and train!

237 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.

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.

A Healthy Dose of Perspective

Y'all are probably as sick of hearing about me being sick as I am writing about it. Don't worry, I'm shutting my mouth...err... banning my fingers from typing anything to that effect.

Here's why. I had the true pleasure of attending a charity gala tonight with Stephanie and a few work colleagues on behalf of the Starlight Foundation, an organization dedicated to helping kids in hospitals with severe health issues.  The company I work for is a very proud sponsor of Starlight, donating NintendoWii Fun Centers to hospitals for kids to enjoy DVD and video games entertainment when they are confined to their rooms or beds.

After being reminded throughout the evening about the good work Starlight does, a head cold two days before a marathon means nothing by comparison.  I have functional legs.  I am grateful for that.  My organs work.  I am grateful for that.  My health issues are not life threatening.  I am grateful for that.

Normally, I'd say the highlight of any evening would be meeting Mr. T, which happened tonight along with my pal and colleague John (pictured).  For the record, Mr. T couldn't have been more gracious, considering I goaded him into his trademark phrases when I told him "You ain't so bad!"

What a dream come true for a life-long A-Team and Rocky fan!

But that really wasn't the highlight.  And I'm somewhat surprised to even admit that.  The real highlight came in the form of hearing a love-affair story of two kids in Starlight who met through their teen connect program, Starbright World.  Both kids had little to hold onto in terms of dealing with the difficulties of their situations.  Until they met each other. And befriended each other. Supported each other. Nurtured and nursed each other.  And ultimately began dating.  Now, a few years later, they got engaged.  Today.  Before the Starlight event.  It was such a touching story and moment.

Even before the gala I was planning to run on Sunday, no matter how I feel.  But now, I'm running not just for myself, but for the idea that so many other people -- kids especially -- suffer every day with so much more and have dreams even bigger than my own.  And my dreams are big!  I owe it to them to fulfill my own dreams because I have a healthy body and mind that allows me to do so.  No excuses.  I am grateful for everything I have in my life, everything around me, and grateful to even have the opportunity to run this marathon come Sunday.

I'm a very lucky guy.

249 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.

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.

How I Met Your Mother

If you read yesterday's blog, you know I was approaching the Desert Triathlon with a fairly nonchalant attitude. At least the race part. However, I'm more excited about the weekend for a different reason.

For the past few weeks, I've been walking around with a noticeable spring in my step.  My smile has felt bigger, my laugh heartier, my joy practically uncontainable.  It's been hard not to share the news with everyone, but there was a little bit of housekeeping that had to occur first.

Am I talking about buying a new bike or piece of triathlon equipment?  Not even close.

My favorite person in the world, Stephanie, has re-entered my life.  Yes, we are dating again, and yes, we're looking forward to a long life together with plans for an engagement already in progress.

She's also here supporting me at the Desert Tri event.

I couldn't be any happier!

For those of you who have been with me since the blog started, you're probably wondering: "But didn't you spend the past couple months trying to move forward with your life?  I don't get it."

Totally valid point.  The truth is that after a LOT of soul-searching, I realized that there's only so much time you can spend rationalizing or analyzing your life instead of simply appreciating it for what it is and going with the flow.  I also realized that if you want something bad enough, you have to be prepared to defend your choices and accept the consequences -- which I wasn't always able or willing to do in this relationship.  I thought my life was supposed to head in a certain direction but every time either Steph or I tried to move on a different path we always found a way back to each other.

And I'm truly at home now.  At peace.  FINALLY.  With myself, with this choice, with life.  I am filled with gratitude every day for getting to spend the rest of my life with my favorite friend.

The story of Stephanie and me is one that requires several blog posts to even begin to describe. Over the course of this Ironman journey, I'm going to share tales of how we met, some of the struggles along the way, and of course all the fun that's going to follow in the coming months and years.

The first tale has to start with how Steph and I met, which I still chuckle about every time I think about it.  I will save the story for another post next week.

When I first began this blog, I intended it to be a blueprint for my future children to learn how to tackle big goals in their lives.

I never realized it would be an ode to "How I met your mother."

Aren't they going to be lucky.

Race day is 12 hours away, and I couldn't care less.  With Steph being here, I've already won.

262 days and counting.

Triathlon Season Approacheth

In two days I'll be kicking off the 2010 triathlon season with the Desert Triathlon near La Quinta, Calif.

This marks the start of my second full season in the sport, though I completed two triathlons in 2008.  At what point am I considered a grizzled veteran?  The Desert Tri, which brings together both the San Diego and Los Angeles triathlon clubs for a weekend of socializing and friendly competition, marks my eighth triathlon overall. Four sprints and three Olympic-distance events.  Maybe when I hit 10 triathlons I'll attain non-noob status, as the video game kiddies like to say.  Sufficient XP gained, Trophy unlocked.

I'm pretty surprised at how mellow I am about the whole race thing.  I remember just a couple years ago feeling so incredibly jacked up for my first triathlon, the Nautica Malibu Triathlon.  I even got a hotel room -- 30 minutes from my own townhome at the time -- to make sure I arrived on time to the event with a few minutes extra sleep.  Hard core, or just plain ignorant? Probably a little bit of both.

Tonight while at work, I casually flipped open my email inbox to see A) where the race was being held, B) how to get there, C) remember the hotel I booked and D) oh yeah, what's the course look like?  It would be nice to know the distance associated with the race, too.  Since it's a sprint, though, I didn't figure it would matter much given all the training.

How times have changed.  I remember last year my IT bands would lock up during the 10k run portion of the Olympic triathlons.  Usually around the fourth mile, my legs would start to give out.  I could barely walk after the events.  Now, it seems like I don't even get warmed up until around the fifth mile.  I'm eager to see how I feel during Sunday's race.

I've already proven to myself that the training is paying off in terms of my physical conditioning and mental outlook, so I really don't have the usual pre-race jitters of any kind.  Instead, those feelings are replaced with total relaxation, almost as if it's just another fun weekend of training and socializing.  I'm not sure what to do with that.  I'm used to everything I do taking on a deeper meaning of some kind, a greater significance.  But, honestly, even though the Desert Triathlon marks the start of the 2010 triathlon season, it's a tiny blip in the grand scheme of things.  On one hand, I'm proud of myself for having such a relaxed and detached perspective.  On the other, I miss the giddiness of wondering what to expect out of the race and out of myself.  I miss the excitement of trying something new, of pushing myself to the limits.

Then again, it is early.  It's only Friday night. After a day off from training.  Chilling out on the couch playing games in the dim light of my living room.

If I'm writing the same type of blog on Saturday night, then maybe I've really changed.

I have a feeling I'll be jacked up by then.

263 days and counting.

4-Minute Blog Post

Instead of the Subway "$5 foot-long" jingle, I'm starting a new one: Four!  Four!  Four-Minute Blog Post!

Here we go!

6 a.m.:  swim with Fortius Coaching team.  Awesome. Fastest sustained 100 intervals yet.  1:52-1:55 pace, stroke cadence down to 20 per 25 yards. Thanks Gerardo and my lane partner, Dierdre!

Sadly, a high school swimmer from Van Nuys High seizured this morning.  Fortunately, he's OK.  His teammates were remarkably mature and supportive, for adults or kids.  I was humbled and happy for our future when I saw their display of sensitivity and compassion.

7:30 a.m.: I ran for an hour and 15 minutes doing six, three-minute intervals between heart-rate zones 4-5.  Using my new Garmin, I realized my mile time is decreasing. I'm on pace for 6:45-minute miles at this point.  Let's see how long I can sustain that though!

8:54 a.m.: On the move to the office to shower and change for work.

9:57 a.m.: At my desk, showered, breakfast in hand, with three minutes to spare.

1:26 p.m.: Returned from lunch after downing three tacos at Sharkey's and fueled up on GU and Hammer nutrition at Bicycle John's in Burbank.

6:18 p.m.: Left work to eat dinner and join the LA Tri Club at the Encino First Thursday social, sponsored by Fortius.  Nope, I didn't win anything in the raffle once again.  But, I loved seeing my fantastic teammates and friends looking their finest. They clean up nicely!

8:39 p.m.: Rushed home, dropped off my dirty gym bag, packed a new one, typed this blog, and am now back on the road for an evening out.  Gotta take advantage of my equivalent of Saturday night since there's no training planned tomorrow.

8:56 p.m.: Shutting down blog, changing clothes, rushing out the door!  Goodnight all!

PS: Thank goodness Ironman training gives you the ability to pack more into your day in a shorter amount of time...on less sleep. I'm living up to my company's studio name: I'm becoming an insomniac!

264 days and counting.