Fitting it All In

I don't know how my married friends do it. How do you find the time to juggle your family and personal lives, along with the lives of your kids?  I got a small taste of it today and am even more in awe of  my Fortius teammates who balance it all almost effortlessly -- while still completing multiple triathlons and Ironman events!

Besides train in the morning with several Fortius teammates including Richard and Ray (both pictured separately), this afternoon was consumed by shopping for furniture with Stephanie and begin discussion about the wedding list.  I'll admit that my head is spinning a bit just from that.  And not because it was an unpleasant experience -- quite the opposite.  I actually really enjoyed it, but not for reasons you might think.  Aside from planning a vacation together and choosing to marry each other, making furniture purchases represents the first major joint financial decision in our relationship.  The process went very smoothly, even though we discovered that our tastes in style and decor may be different (no, I don't think dogs playing poker should be our mantel piece!).  I was very pleased how we communicated and deliberated.  Ultimately, we didn't buy anything today, but I'm confident we set the foundation for making good choices we both can be happy with when the time comes.

Anyways, I'm sitting here at the end of a long day -- after swimming a mile, running for 10, visiting nearly a half-dozen furniture stores and analyzing our first pass at the wedding list -- wondering how in the hell people with kids find the time to be an Ironman.  How do you orchestrate having a life while managing the lives of others?  I'm thinking all this knowing that Stephanie and I really didn't do anything today in the grand scheme of things yet it's 10 p.m. and time for bed.

Where did all the time go? Today felt like a blur.  Thank goodness for this blog to remind me one day!

Will there be more hours in the day when we have a family to fit everything in?

I know it seems like I'm stressed out.  Honestly, I'm not.  I'm simply aware how good I have it right now, knowing how pressed for time I may be down the line if I continue to train for triathlons and perhaps more Ironman events.  Something's gotta give eventually, and I think I know what it will be.

Sorry, kids!

(Steph, that was a joke...)

200 days and counting.

Hammerin' the Conejo

This morning, Team Fortius participated in the 26th annual Cruisin' the Conejo bike ride across the Conejo Valley.

My ride was closer to "Hammerin' the Conejo."  The whole cruising part just didn't work out so well today.  Not that you're really surprised.

The ride was a last-minute (but very welcome) addition to our training schedule.  And to get it out of the way up front, I recommend this ride for anyone looking to see the Conejo Valley at its finest.  The route is fairly easy for riders of all levels. We didn't do a ton of climbing, most of the ride was flat, the wind was moderate and the temperature never got hire than the upper 70s. The rest stops, course marking and organizers are first-rate.  And as far as organized group rides in Southern California, I'd definitely put it ahead of the Cool Breeze Century in Ventura.

David, my teammate and friend (and sports massage therapist) and I chose the 68-mile "moderate" metric century, which would take us from Newbury Park to Westlake, into Oxnard, Camarillo, through Moorpark and my hometown of Simi Valley and back to Thousand Oaks/Newbury Park.  The climbing was moderate, but the pace was not.

We started the ride at 8 knowing we needed to be back in Los Angeles by 2 p.m. since David had a massage client at 3:30.  We knew we'd make our deadline if we were efficient on the bike.  Had we not had places to be and things to do, I think today's ride would have been a lot more mellow.  That, and David had a friend, John, who joined us.  John was a big guy who, in David's words, "liked to go fast."  I didn't realize how fast until we quickly lost at least three packs of riders on the course with us.

In fact, literally not one person passed all three of us for an extended period.  And, of course, my competitive side coming out BIG-TIME, absolutely nobody passed me on the course during my ride.  Once we realized we were among the best cyclists on the course, David, John and I made a friendly gentlemen's pact that nobody would pass us.  All day.  My kind of challenge.  Our piss-and-vinegar approach manifested itself the most during a roughly 10-mile stretch on Las Posas Road coming from Camarillo into Moorpark.  We formed a pace line and seriously hammered.  Coach Gerardo will see this soon enough via my Garmin 310x data, but let me just note up front I spent way more time than I should have in zone 5 on the heart-rate monitor.  I was in a cycling trance today.  That's the only way to describe it.  When I expressed my concern to David that maybe we were pushing too hard, he calmly noted that "it's good to get in a little speed work every once in a while."

Noted.  And check.

We took the pedal off the metal in Moorpark and into Simi Valley, where I had a visitor pop by to say hello: My father. He met us on the same road I used to bike as a kid with a Haro mountain bike when I'd gather the nerve to venture from Simi into the next time.  I remember vividly those afternoons with Frank and Jeremy, when we'd think we were practically like Magellan wondering if the world was indeed flat.  What's beyond the next town? What if we don't make it back by dark?  What if we get a flat tire?  Oh, the excitement!  Oh, how it was only 13 miles yet felt like 68.

Oh, how nice it was to ride on that road again for the first time in 20 years and think about how far I've come, and how lucky I was to be able to enjoy such a moment with my dad.

After Dad left, we ambled up Olsen Road and battled a headwind before rallying for the last stretch down Thousand Oaks Boulevard and onto Hillcrest Drive.  One rider in an Amgen kit tried to stay with John and me.  I was having none of it.  Not that far into the ride without having anyone pass.  This guy tried to pass me twice and on both occasions I floored it, the second time looking directly at him, smiling and saying "nice push" before dusting him the final two miles into the parking lot.

We rode 68 miles in just about 3:46, or an 18 mph pace.  We were on our road bikes since it was a group ride, so I'm very eager to give my TT bike a go and see if I can improve upon that, minus the elevated heart-rate.

I know I need to curb this competitive fire right now.  I've got so many more months of training and it's all about pacing and patience.

But I just couldn't help myself today.  Fortunately, there were some great recovery tools available at the end of the race...err...tour.  I was stretched out by a chiropractor truck and then David, John and I were treated to electro-therapy for 15 minutes to restore blood flow to our aching leg muscles.  What a trip!  My legs looked like they had a mind of their own the way they were dancing from all the electricity pulsating through them.  But I can say it worked.  My legs feel fine, and I can also partially attribute that to the 2XU compression calf sleeves I wore on the ride.  I can definitely tell a difference now when I wear them in terms of recovery and stability in my legs.  It might be a little mental (hey, so am I!), but I swear the compression tech works.

It had better.  I've got a swim with the LA Tri Club tomorrow along with a 1.75 hour running session.  I will have to take it a little easy on the run, I'm sure.

Unless someone faster tries to pass me.

Just kidding, Gerardo.  Kind of.

201 days and counting.

These Are the Days

My heart is racing as I sit on the couch this morning.  My hands are shaking. I just finished episode eight of The Pacific, the World War II miniseries on HBO.

I'm not going to write a review or anything like that.  But rather how I feel after watching it.

I'll start by admitting that lately, I'm much more easily moved to tears.  Though I may be an emotional guy, I've never been accused of being a crier -- unless Rudy is on the screen.  Now, inspirational, romantic or even sad news hits me harder...right in my chest and lungs.  And tears roll down my face.  They did at Wildflower.  They are this morning.

I know why.

It's because I realize, at 35 years old, finally, I am embedded in the prime of my life.  Right now.  In THIS moment.  I'm in peak physical condition.  My mental outlook is strong.  I'm marrying a truly stunning lady in every way.  My family is healthy and happy.  I have good friends.  A good job.  And I'm able to pursue my own dreams without guilt or worry.

Some of my friends and even family members haven't always been so lucky.  Some didn't make it to 30.  Some made it to 30 but not 35.  A few never saw 25.

They never got to experience what it's like to know that life doesn't get much better than this.  And I've spent years and years taking that for granted. Like a lucky little dandelion seed floating cluelessly, miraculously, from one unexpected adventure to the next...that's been my life.  A "Forrest Gump" existence, as my parents call it.

When you realize how precious that is, when you see how easily fate could have been crueler...a war, a draft, a battle, and a coffin for example...it hits.  Hard.  When you watch a man fall in love -- whether it's in real life or on the big screen -- and then die at the top of his game, it hits hard.  When you know what that love is or good fortune or good health, and you know that it can all be blown to bits at any moment, it hits hard.

I am lucky. Very lucky.  And I think about that a lot lately.  I take nothing for granted.  Not in training.  Not with my relationship. Not with my family.  Not with my friends.

It could all go away tomorrow.  I could be cut down in my prime.  But I am also wide awake, a passenger riding shotgun and taking notes in my own head.

I am more aware than I've ever been in my entire life -- living long and full and strong enough to know that these are indeed the best of days.

That's why I cried a little this morning.

202 days and counting.

Inspired Exhaustion

I'm going on 11 hours of sleep spanning two-and-a-half days. I partied with my LA Tri Club and Fortius friends until 10 tonight.

I'm done. Tired.  Spent.  A short but hard work and training week is over.  Tomorrow I have the day off work for a company outing, which I can't wait for: Ironman 2!

Yep, that's how my company rolls!

I capped the week off in style though, taking Stephanie's and my friend Erin to the LA Tri Club's First Thursday event in Sherman Oaks.  It was a record crowd, close to 85 attended.  Watching a newcomer experience the LA Tri Club was a special treat for me.  Erin was truly inspired by everyone's enthusiasm, positive outlook and high energy.  She said the club represents the kind of people she would like to surround herself with, and I couldn't agree more.

I remember a few years ago after my first 5k race seeing an LA Tri Club tent and thinking, "Those guys are crazy!  Who has the time for that kind of training?!"

Now I know I've discovered a lifestyle for a lifetime.  Something that keeps me feeling younger and stronger as when I was in high school.

I'm eager for Erin to experience that same joy.

My evening revelry served as the perfect bookend for an equally inspiring morning.  After a strong swim with the Fortius team (including a 3:11 timed 200), I went home to ride on the bike trainer for 40 minutes.  One DVD made an ordinary ride anything but: The Ford Ironman Kona 2009 World Championships recap.  If you don't own this, buy it.  If you've seen it on YouTube, buy the real thing.

Watching the pros battle in the heat and learning about some of the other truly tear-jerking stories from random competitors swelled my heart with adrenaline and optimism.  I got the DVD as a consolation prize for not being selected to the 2010 Ironman Kona lottery, but I didn't realize how valuable a prize this video would be.  It will serve as my visual Bible for the next several months -- teaching, inspiring, illuminating in deeper and deeper ways every day.  I can relate to each athlete's struggle to overcome their own personal adversity to achieve something most other people will never comprehend.

Well, almost.  One athlete featured is a double-leg amputee who is a nationally recognized triathlete.

No matter how much I hurt or think I hurt, that guy has had it worse.  I will try to complain far less and always keep him in mind when I'm sore, frustrated or just not feelin' it.

So after a long string of days, after being so tired right now my 1,000-yard-stare has a 1,000-yard stare, I wish I could bottle up all the optimism and excitement blasting through my veins.  I know I'll need it for other days down the line.

Or maybe I can just resolve to have more optimistic and exciting days?

203 days and counting.

What Fuels My Fire

I'm sensing a potential problem with my training.

It's centered on fear.  Fear of finishing last in a pelaton. Or in the pool.  Or on the track and trail.  It stems from being dropped on numerous rides with the San Fernando Valley Bicycle Club early in my cycling career, or my past inability to keep up in swim workouts.  And an athletic inferiority complex in general that is best represented by my irrational love for underdogs like Rudy Ruettiger.  Fearing that I'm the slowest or the worst fuels my competitive fire, as much as when people tell me I can't or won't be able to do something. Anything.

This fear is manifesting itself in a pretty obsessive competitive streak lately.  My training partners and friends, Ann, Richard and Mike, have encountered that side of my personality recently.  Richard and Mike were playfully teasing me about notching up the intensity a bit too high during our weekly Griffith Park brick sessions on Wednesday nights.  I can't help it though, especially when a few of us cyclists tackle Mount Hollywood en route to Griffith Park and occasionally treat it like we're racing for the polka-dot climbing "king of the hill" jersey at Le Tour de France.

OK, maybe that's just me that feels that way.  Maybe I'm the only one who hears British Tour de France TV commentator Phil Liggett in my head -- announcing my progress and stumbles to the world in real-time.  And that's part of my problem.

It happened again today, where what felt like an unusually large pelaton ratcheted up the intensity almost as soon as we turned out of the LA Zoo parking lot.  I was prepared for an easy spin and run considering our recent race weekend at Wildflower.  Nobody else in the group received that memo, apparently.  We took off fast, and hard.  I was almost dropped at first until I warmed up properly.

That got my attention.  And drew my ire.  Then, what was supposed to be a jaunt turned into a near-sprint, starting at around Forest Lawn Drive before heading right up a long hill en route to Mt. Hollywood.

Phil Liggett took over.  He called the action in my head with every pedal stroke.

"Ryan seems to be struggling today, his weary legs almost begging for mercy after a grueling Wildflower stage on Sunday.  He's towards the back of the pack at the moment, or is he calculating his big surge? It's hard to tell if our man on the Colnago is wearing the look of a confident, intense competitor or someone who's at the end of his line before the real racing begins.  What's Ryan made of today?  We will all soon know.

"Oh look at that!  Ryan is making his move now, passing to the outside left of a small group of riders who seem to be slowing down.  He's picking up steam! But can he catch the man up front, the blue-jersey, Trek wearing monster who is trying to lose the entire pack up the mountain?  Can Ryan pick it up to slay Goliath?  Or is David simply out of rocks?

"It appears we'll have our answer shortly.  Ryan is making his move!  He's separating from the pack and is solely focused on tracking down the Trek.  Now Ryan is riding Trek's wheel, forcing the leader to pick up the pace.  The man up front is becoming uncomfortable. I think Ryan's got him!  Yes, the Trek rider is now standing and pedaling up the hill.  Laboring!  Panting!  Cold and merciless, Ryan passes.  Seated.  A point has been made.  'This is MY hill.'  This will indeed be Ryan's day!  From worst to first, for one moment, Ryan is king of this hill. A huge victory for Team Colnago."

Yep, that's how my brain works. Even if it's 5:30 on a Wednesday evening on a seemingly routine ride. I know I'm a little crazy.  I know.

I hate losing. I hate being dropped.  I hate being perceived as too slow.  Not good enough.  Not fast enough.

Nothing ever comes easy for me, so I never take a workout for granted. Maybe that's a secret to success: Treat each workout like it must be your best.  Because somewhere out there, someone is training harder.  Getting better.  Becoming faster.

What are you doing?

203 days and counting.

This is My Tri Bike

This is my tri-bike.  There are many like it.

But this one is mine.

After several months drooling, researching, speculating, debating, deliberating and procrastinating, I now own a triathlon bike.  As you can see, I went with the Cervelo P2 Ultegra setup, along with a sweet pair of Bontrager/Hed Aeolus 5.0 clinchers.  Helen's Cycles in Santa Monica made me an offer too good to refuse on the wheelset.  I was planning to buy the Hed  Jet 6 and 9s, as I've recently written.  However, they weren't in stock and Helen's took advantage of my eagerness to sell me  on a "project one" pair of the Bontragers for $900 off the MSRP.  As I was doing my bike-fitting session, the cyclist next to me doing the same had ridden 10,000 miles on the same pair.  And was happy.  That was good enough for me.

Oh, Lance and the rest of Team Radio Shack ride on them too.

Yeah, that'll do.

The only other major purchase I needed to add to the bike were the adjustable carbon Profile Design Viper aero bars.  During my fitting, it became clear I was reaching a bit too far out towards the elbow pads and my back and rib cage  were going to be stretched.  Unfortunately, the stock aero bars were not adjustable.  Yes, a proper pre-purchase bike fit might have indicated that other tri bikes could have been a better natural fit as a result.  Yet all my research kept pointing back to the Cervelo P2 offering the best bang for the buck.  Judging by the transition area at Wildflower, hundreds of other Cervelo owners agreed.  And each time I spoke with a P2 owner whether at Wildflower or the other races I've competed in this year, they all indicated how much they loved their purchase.  Not one showed an ounce of regret.

And let's face it: I just wanted the damn bike.  There's lots of great choices out there. Felt. Wilier. Argon. Kuota. And many others.  But the Cervelo had me from the get-go.  It wasn't even a fair contest.  You can research all you want.  In the end, I bought what I wanted, but it happens to be a great value nonetheless.

Now, I must make sure my Monica (my Colnago) doesn't get too jealous of Charlie, the Cervelo.  So far, they're co-existing in the same room peacefully.

By the way, I name my bikes.  Maybe I talk to them too every once in a while.  It's totally not weird.  It's normal.  I keep telling myself that.

It's normal, right?

Good night, Monica.  Good night, Charlie.  Good night, Shalom (my Scott Speedster).

These are my bikes.  There are many like them.  But these bikes are MINE.

Hooah!

Still 204 days and counting, but not by much.

Karmic Pizza

I have discovered the elusive missing link to achieving a great triathlon race result.

Pizza.

But not just any pizza.  This is a special kind.  And instead of eating it, you must give it away to someone in need before your race.  It doesn't really matter when in the day that happens.  In return, if you're lucky, the pizza recipient will wish you a good race and shower cosmic karma upon you.

I know this to be true, because that's exactly what happened to me the day before posting a 2:54:00 Wildflower Olympic time this past Sunday, 10 minutes faster than my predicted best-case scenario, good for a top 50 finish in my age group (top 23%) and top 26% among all men.  I even saw all my swim training pay off with a 29:36 mile swim, breaking the 30-minute mark for the first time and beating my old personal best open-water swim by four minutes.

I need to find more pizza to give away!

Here's what happened.  My buddy Dustin and I were waiting in the stands near the finish line for our friend Darrin to finish the long-course, which ran the day before the Olympic race.  Darrin had a long day but demonstrated what it meant to persevere over adversity.  He snapped his chain within the first mile of the bike portion, walked the bike a mile back to our RV camper, fixed the chain (pictured below), walked his bike back to the course and was on his way.  While we were waiting for Darrin, Dustin and I both felt mid-afternoon hunger pangs.  I went on a scouting mission for pizza and on my way back with two slices in hand, a girl who had just completed the long course walked up next to me and said, "I could attack you for a slice of that pizza right now!"

After a little banter back-and-forth, I realized she might not be joking.

I told the girl, whose name I never got, to follow me back to the stands.  Once I gave Dustin his slice, I tore half of my pizza and gave it to the girl. Even though she protested at first, she quickly relented.  After doing so, she looked up at me, smiled wide and said, "You are going to have the race of a lifetime tomorrow.  You just got a TON of race karma.  You are going to kick major ass."

Instead of making a joke back or some self-deprecating comment, I did something I normally don't do when someone says something nice to or about me...I simply said, "Thanks, I hope so."

So it was wished, so it occurred.

And I have pizza to thank.  So there you go, fellow triathletes...you can train as hard as you want, but maybe simply doing something nice for a fellow racer will put you in the best position to achieve your goals.

In the end, while the race itself was a special moment for me, it was overshadowed by the "one and only" experience that is Wildflower.  There were a reported 30,000 people on hand to witness the weekend's activities.  And many of them dotted the entire race course cheering on athletes of all abilities.  I can say that in least two spots on the bike and at least three on the run I received a much-needed adrenaline boost just from the encouragement.  (The bikini-clad college girls handing out water at the aid stations helped a little too.)  The crowd was at its finest in the stands near the finish line, where runners' gritty and sometimes-grinning facial expressions told lengthy tales of dedication, sacrifice and determination.  I welled up with tears on Saturday at least five times watching fathers pick up their children to run to the end with them, or small children high-fiving strangers as they passed by.  Or couples holding hands while running to the finish together.

The magic of the sport is not solely possessed by the elite. Far from it.  It's a form of karmic pizza all its own, where triumphant finishers give back energy to the crowd as much if not more than what they're gaining by completing a massive personal challenge.

We think we're taking, gaining, obtaining, and striving.  But really, we're giving, sharing, encouraging and caring.

If you haven't been to Wildflower, go.  Even if you don't race, go.  There's a reason it's called the "one and only."

And if you've been to Wildflower, let's sign up again for next year.

I'll even bring the pizza.

204 days and counting.

Race Ready

I'm fired up for Wildflower! Yesterday, I could barely tell I had a race this weekend.  Today, I'm jacked UP!

Dustin got my day started properly with a phone call discussing logistics for tomorrow's trip to Lake San Antonio.  Even though we were only confirming groceries, I realized we were in store for an epic weekend of triathlon awesomeness.  While the movie probably wouldn't sell well, Dustin, his buddy Darren and I are about to star in "Three Triathletes and a Winnebago." Can't wait.

My excitement built after my Fortius teammate and massage therapist, David, gave me a 1.5-hour massage tonight to restore some flexibility to my tight and tired legs.  I feel invigorated, if not slightly sore.  David is Escaping from Alcatraz this weekend, so we both discussed our various races and our preparation.  What a great way to enter that race-ready frame of mind.

The evening has concluded gracefully and in style...with a sushi dinner and the soothing sounds of classic jazz wafting through the house as Stephanie enjoys a cup of tea while I type.  Seriously, does life get any better than this?  Actually, it would if I didn't have to leave Steph behind this weekend where we can't even get cell phone access.  I know how absence makes the heart grow fonder, but it's so bittersweet to know you're going to miss your roommate and best friend even before you leave.  I've been sitting here thinking about all the melancholy entries I wrote at the beginning of this blog regarding our break-up, and I don't want to read them.  I don't have to.  I remember how it felt every day being without her and am grateful I never again have to go back to that place.  I can handle three nights away from her, but I don't have to like it!

So now, as the evening winds down, all that's left to complete is the race gear checklist:

-- Wetsuit (man, it stinks!)

-- Goggles (two pair), swim cap

-- Bike, shoes, helmet, gloves

-- Body glide, camera, Garmin

-- Clothes, blankets, towels, pillows, snacks, toiletries, books

Yep, that covers it.

This is my last entry until Monday, when I return from the race with a full report.  Predictions?  Well, no pre-race summary would be complete without one.  I think I'll hit between 30-33 minutes on the swim.  I'm going to pace myself on the bike so I'll likely be somewhere between 1:40 and 1:45.  I intend to push a bit on the run.  I'd like to hit between 50-54 minutes.  So, throw in roughly four minutes of transition times and that should add up to between 3:04-3:16 total.  I'd love to break three hours for this race but I don't know how realistic that will be if I follow my pacing recommendations from the Fortius training camp weekend earlier this month.

Let's see how close I come.

For now, this is the Ironmadman signing off until I return to internet civilization.  Good luck Ironman St. George competitors!  Good luck Escape from Alcatraz studs!  And good luck, Wildflowers. See you at the lake in about 13 hours.

209 days and counting.

Wildflower Wrap-Up

Tonight's brick workout at Griffith Park represented my last "real" training session before the Wildflower triathlon this Sunday.

How do I feel?  It's a mixed question.  This morning, I would have written that I felt slightly more fatigued than usual.  Tonight, I'm more optimistic. Most notable is that my right knee isn't hurting at all despite climbing to the Griffith Observatory and running a few miles after.  Lately, my knee had been acting up on the run and sometimes during the bike, requiring ice and extra stretching.  Tonight, no discomfort.  That's a plus!  It's been weeks since I felt that good after a workout.

The ride itself was a little tougher than I expected though.  I found myself pushing a little harder than I wanted, but it was mainly because Frank joined me and I wanted to play catch-up.  In the understatement of the year, I am a little competitive.  Fortunately, Fortius teammates Mike and Richard playfully yanked me back and in their own way reminded me we were supposed to be tapering. Point taken.

Perhaps the best news of the day though was Coach Gerardo's email that tomorrow's 6 a.m. swim workout is cancelled, meaning I get a training off-day since nothing else is scheduled.  Woohoo!  I am so excited to sleep in, though I'll need the extra time to pack for the weekend.  Despite the lack of workouts, tomorrow will still be packed with triathlon goodness. I'm likely buying a set of race wheels to go with the triathlon bike I don't own yet.  They're Hed Jet 6 and 9 wheels.  More info on them tomorrow once the transaction is complete.  And I've got a pre-race massage with Fortius massage therapist David at 6:30 p.m.  Since it's so close to the race the massage will be light and circulatory, mostly a relaxer.  Can't wait.

Even though Wildflower is in just a couple days, I can't help but notice how relaxed I am.  I've trained at Lake San Antonio. I've done more than 10 triathlons now.  I'm experienced.  I'm healthy.  Well-rested.  What's there to be nervous about?  I know the course will be challenging, but it will probably be one of the most fun triathlon weekends I'll ever have.

210 days and counting.

Tough Tuesday

I figured after a Mellow Monday that I'd have all kinds of energy to train today. False.

Maybe it was the sushi, tempura and teriyaki chicken I downed at 9 p.m. last night following yoga practice.  Causing me to pee at least three times that I can remember during the course of the evening (in the toilet, mind you). Maybe it was the delayed effects of my Sunday workouts.  Probably a combination of both.

Whatever it was, when I entered the pool this morning for our twice-weekly Fortius coached workout, I quickly realized I wasn't in top form.  I suppose the first indication of what was to come should have been the gauntlet of sprinklers that teammate Nico and I dodged to avoid being drenched in our sweats.  It was like a timing puzzle in a video game.

Inside the pool, I dragged almost from the get-go.  My lane's warm-up 400 was cut short -- probably because I was too slow!  From there, my teammates and I proceeded to slog through two sets of 400-yard sprints (100 build, 200 fast, 100 race).  This proved to be an especially frustrating experience.  Last week, I felt I had a breakthrough in technique that allowed me to swim faster.  In other words, I could keep up with the faster swimmers.

This morning, I was brought back to reality.  Both Ann and Jenna asked if they could pass me in between sets.  They might as well have said, "Dude, get back to the slow lane where you belong!"  I was holding them back. Not a good feeling, but I knew it was true.  And there wasn't much I could do about it at that point.  I was tired.

The rest of the hour-long session didn't go much better.  In fact, things degenerated to pure comedy at one point.  Megan, our swim coach and teammate, was trying to teach how to scissor kick.  Ann, Lisa and Jenna all knew how and were quite effortless.  I looked like I was being electrocuted, spasming wildly while trying to avoid swallowing loads of water.  Turns out that's especially difficult when everyone is laughing at you!

It became such a comical distraction that Megan sent me to my own lane.  Talk about a demotion!  I was sent to my "special place" for the rest of class, for private instruction on how to stay afloat while scissor kicking and gliding on my back.

I'm not sure what the point of all that kicking and bobbing was, but I do know it tired me out much more than expected.  When I came home after the workout, I crawled back into bed.  I was done with workouts for the day.  Cancel that 45-minute spin session.

I'm trying hard not to put much stock into today's debacle of a workout.  I'll chalk it up to fatigue and just needing a bit more rest.  After all, I did train two hours extra last week compared to what was scheduled.  And everyone has a bad performance every once in a while, right?  I  mean, as a Lakers fan, I just point to Kobe and what's going on in our playoffs right now. (BTW, I predicted the Lakers would win in six.  Now, I think they'll win in seven.)

Of course, nobody will compare me to Kobe, or in this instance, Michael Phelps.

I'm going to shake off today's practice and focus on tomorrow's brick workout.  I'll have had more than 24 hours rest and should be good-to-go.

211 days and counting.