Discreet Progress

The Fortius-coached track workouts are starting to show dividends.  But in a way I wouldn't quite expect. After this morning's LA Tri Club "Chicken of the Sea" swim, I took off on a two-hour run where the goal was to negative split on an out-and-back course.  I managed to do so by seven minutes while maintaining a steady pace throughout the 12 miles from Marina del Rey to Playa del Rey and back.  My success didn't necessarily come from overdoing it on the latter part of the run.  Instead, I was able to cover a little more ground on the first half while at a slightly lower heart-rate than usual.  This seems to be where the weekly track workouts have started to pay off, though I would have expected to see an increase in speed rather than a decrease in heart rate-per-mile run.

Richard and Ann joined me this morning and both noted that I seemed to be moving at a more efficient, relaxed pace.  My arms were doing more work and propelling me forward while I wasn't exerting as much energy in the lower heart-rates to maintain a 9:00 pace.  This was encouraging news, and I wouldn't have noticed it had it not been for them.  That's one of the many perks of training with friends. I wouldn't be quite so lucky for the entire run as the couple had a different training schedule and turned back at the 45-minute mark.  That left me 1:15 to remain mentally occupied sans music.

To counter the solo Sunday doldrums, I chose to run a different route, past the bridge at Ballona Creek and onto the beach path in Playa.  At this point, I'll do just about anything to keep my brain occupied and not feeling like I'm on a mental hamster wheel where every training weekend starts to feel the same.

I suppose it's these very mental games in practice that allow me to persevere on race day -- when I need to coax myself forward instead of pausing for breaks.

The tempo part of my run started off great with a few sub 8:30 miles but once again I hit a wall just after the 10th mile where my pace dropped, my heart rate rose and my legs tightened.  I walked up the few (small) hills on the return trip to the marina.

Overall, the lesson I learned today was that progress doesn't always come from the expected or obvious source.  Sometimes it takes others to point it out to you.  Other times, the Garmin watch data can indicate momentum that might otherwise get missed.

Still, progress is progress, and I'm not complaining.

97 days and counting.

Quick Saturday Ride Recap

I'm in between places and events, as usual, but wanted to quickly log today's ride throughout the Conejo Valley. Amount of miles ridden: 72

Elevation scaled: 3,400

Calories consumed: 1,600

CO2 cartridges consumed: 3 (two flats for Frank)

Duration on the bike: 4:12:25

Towns passed through: 6 (Newbury Park, Thousand Oaks, Westlake, Camarillo, Moorpark, Simi Valley)

Time shaved from 2010 Cruisin' the Conejo event: 14 minutes

Great ride.  Great company.  Confidence restored after last week's bonk fest.  And one helluva barbecue meal for lunch afterwards.

What more can you ask for?

Well, photos, for starters.  I'll post those tomorrow when I have more time to write. (Edit: updated photos posted!)

Now, it's off to Orange County.  Transition time complete.

98 days and counting.

Weight for Me!

My scale must have malfunctioned this morning. My eyes must have been bleary.

So I stepped off the scale, reset it and stepped back on again.

Nope, that number is accurate: 127.5 pounds.

Cue "Home Alone" face!

I realize that my Ironman training has picked up in volume and intensity over the past couple weeks.  But I've experienced harder workouts over a longer period and kept my weight in the 130s neighborhood.  What has changed?  I don't feel like I look any different than I did before.  I'm consuming the same quantity of food and water each day.  At least it seems that way.

I've even included ice cream more often in my diet.  With Coach Gerardo's blessing even!

As you can tell, I'm a bit concerned.  I've always been skinny and I think I'm tapping into some insecurities from elementary, junior high and high school.  Hell, in college my first fraternity pledge name was Twiggy. So today I've been on an eating binge.  A food assault.  French toast, three scrambled eggs and bacon for breakfast.  An apple for a snack.  A huge plate of Mediterranean food for lunch.  A banana for a snack.  A large dinner with Stephanie shortly.  Do I need snacks in between my snacks?  One thing I will be returning to are my homemade protein shakes: Jay Robb whey protein (chocolate), flax seed oil, frozen fruit, and peanut butter.  That will hopefully pack on the pounds once again.  And by "pack," I really only mean three to five extra pounds.

As I mentioned in last evening's blog post, I've lost almost 10 pounds during my Fortius Coaching experience.  But that's not the whole story.  Since I returned to a healthy, fitness-driven lifestyle at the end of 2007, I've dropped close to 30 big ones.

Now, I'm afraid of losing too much weight.  I need a little bit of fat for that 140.6 leviathan coming soon.  Maybe my decrease in weight has affected my training performance?  Could that be why I bonked so hard last Sunday?  I'm not sure there's a connection there, but I think my weight loss is a contributing factor.

So if you're meeting up with me over the next few days and a restaurant is involved, I'd suggest warning them that a ravished mad man is about to descend upon them.  And G-d help them if it's a buffet.

I'm about to declare war on food.  And nothing, especially my own kitchen, is safe.

99 days and counting.

(Man, seeing double-digits is weird!)

100 Days & Counting

I can't believe it. Starting tomorrow, I will have crossed into a double-digits countdown until Ironman Arizona.  Nevermind that there's currently no place to swim for the event.  We won't concern ourselves with that trivial detail for the time being.

I've written approximately 230 blog posts to date on the Ironmadman website (plus dozens of other posts on the Blogspot site).  Each one trying to capture some nugget, some detail about my training that I can internalize for the future.  A mental file folder I can click open in my brain when I need it during a race.  When I pause to think about all those file folders I've accumulated during this now 10-month Ironman journey that began last fall, I recall one sentence that Coach Gerardo spoke very early into my training.

"By the time you get to your Ironman, you won't recognize yourself."

He's right, both physically and mentally.

Physically, I've lost close to 10 pounds (from where???). I have muscular definition for the first time in my life.  I can see what vaguely appears to be a six pack on my abs.  I can see the little veins on my biceps that I had wished showed up in high school.  For the longest time, I didn't even think I had veins there!  Like maybe I was a reverse genetic defect.  My quads are getting so big that certain pairs of pants are starting not to fit because my legs have no room to breathe.  Believe it or not, that used to be how my waistline felt when trying to squeeze into a pair of Diesels that Stephanie bought for me.  Now I can wear them without a belt.

Mentally, I've changed even more.  I've learned that toughness comes from within, not from how long I might last in a martial arts studio sparring session -- as was the case with my prior passion. I've also learned that my personality is uniquely suited for triathlon.  The sport rewards tenaciousness.  Grit.  Hard-work. Sacrifice.  Guile.  G-d given talent alone doesn't propel the best triathletes to the podium.  While innate skill certainly helps, in my opinion it's a triathlete's sense of will and want that determines wins on race day.

I won't necessarily be faster than the competition, but I can outwork them.  I can out-grind them.  I can out-will them.

Of course, this is my big-picture assessment so far.  I've got a lot more training to go.  Zooming back in to the past 100 days, here are my top 10 lessons learned.

1) Pain is on a sliding scale relative to rest, recovery and nutrition.

Pain can be managed and mitigated.  It can be compartmentalized too, but it requires training just like speed workouts at the track or five-hour marathon rides in the Malibu hills.  There are triggers for pain that can be neutralized with proper training as well.  That's where rest, recovery and nutrition come in.  I've definitely performed better when I have between 7-8 hours sleep over a few days, when I've been able to stretch in the morning and at night, and when I'm not eating fast food (which is rare now) or over-eating in general.

2) Know when to push and when to hold back.

This is critical for intensive training.  You can't go at Mach 5 every workout.  I've had to learn to prioritize.  For example, last night I ran with less intensity during the run portion of the Griffith Park brick knowing I had a 6 a.m. swim workout today and what would be a grueling speed session at the track (5x800s at 10k pace, one mile at 6:00 pace).  I didn't hit all my goals during this evening's track session, but I had enough energy to finish strong.  I've also learned when to push within workouts, whether it's that one hill I'm trying to climb faster than last week or saving myself for the inevitable timed 100 during the swim workout.  Practice pacing translates to proper race pacing.

3) Hard training pays off on race day.

While I've learned to pace myself better during training, I'm still going pretty hard every session.  I know I'll only get out of my workouts what I put into them.  So I generally put in everything I have.  What this has allowed me to do is find that extra reservoir of strength and power come race day.  I know what exhaustion feels like.   I know what my body can handle.  And I know when I can dig to find that precious extra energy at just the right moment when I need it most.  This has propelled me to strong finishes at Breath of Life and Wildflower, not to mention surviving the final three miles at the Vineman 70.3.

4) So does having the right equipment.

Of course, this past 100 days have been highlighted by the addition of my Charlie, my Cervelo P2 tri bike. Combined with the Bontrager/Hed Aeolus 5 race wheels, I've picked up about 2 mph on the bike.  As the great Ferris Bueller once said: "It is so choice.  If you have the means, I highly suggest picking one up." He was talking about a Ferrari, but you get the point.

5) In swimming, competitive fire can replace form when it comes to gaining speed.

Some swimmers are graceful and fast.  Others, like me, are ugly to watch.  When I'm sprinting, I'm splashing.  Flailing.  But I'm also hauling ass.  It may not be pretty to watch, but if I'm pitted against someone in a 50-yard sprint, I like my chances to win.  I simply hate losing, and I've learned through the Fortius-coached workouts that I'll do damn near anything to avoid it.  I treat every practice race like a real one, and honestly I think it translates when the real starting gun goes off.

6) I need to find a way to generate more income to help pay for this sport!

I recently got a credit card bill that dropped my jaw and bugged my eyes out.  I was reminded how expensive this sport can be, and that with a wedding coming up I really need to be more careful about which events I participate in, where are they located and whether I truly need that next "must-have" piece of equipment (current obsession is a power meter).

My solution: Returning to freelance writing.  For triathlon only.  So, if you know of any magazine, newsletter or blog site looking for experienced writers, please let me know!

7) 70.3 doesn’t feel that different than an Olympic tri if you train right...

With the exception of some dehydration issues, completing my first Half Ironman didn't feel that different from completing my first Olympic triathlon.  If you follow a training plan for a prescribed distance, that volume of work and effort should bring you to the finish line.  Now I won't say you'll get there pain-free, but with the right regimen it is a lot easier than you think.  Dedication and commitment can make all the difference.

8 ) ...Which is why having a coach makes a huge difference.

That said, my first Olympic triathlon was a solo effort.  I had no coach, no plan, and ultimately no clue.  I overate and drank on the bike and cramped on the run, finishing in three hours on the dot.  Now that I'm part of a coached team, I've never cramped in a race (knocks on couch) while knocking off more than 30 minutes from my Olympic triathlon PR.  Yesterday I detailed why coached swim workouts are so beneficial.  Multiply that times the bike and run, along with the intangibles associated with the camaraderie and it's easy to see why I'm feeling so good about my health and life outlook.

9) Supplements: Proceed at your own risk.

I tried beta alanine over the past few weeks and while I can feel the benefits during a workout (increased energy), I also have experienced negative side effects that affected my sleep patterns.  However, before I ingested my first beta alanine pill, I did research on it.  And made sure it wasn't an illegal performance enhancer (it's not).  I hope you'll do the same for any nutritional aid.  And don't just assume that because it works for your buddy, it'll work for you too.  Every body is different.  Every metabolism works differently.

10) Be a fan.

It's shocking to me that the biggest lesson I learned from my training the past 100 days came while watching other people race.  My experience at Vineman Full was so eye-opening.  It felt just as good as to cheer on others as it did to race myself.  I enjoyed witnessing the purity of the sport at its finest without worrying about all the anxiety associated with negative splits, quick transition times and proper pacing.  I will remember watching Rusty and my other friends finish their first 140.6 event much more than I'll recall most of the individual workouts I've logged the past few months. If you haven't supported someone by attending their race, DO IT.  Even if you're not a fan of the sport, I bet the life stories in motion will make you reassess your own goals and priorities.

I'd say the last 100 days have been quite fruitful.  In feeling stronger, I feel wiser.

In the next 100 days, I may or may not become an Ironman officially -- depending on the water situation in Tempe.  But no matter what, I feel like I've developed an Ironman mentality that will carry me through the rest of my days.

I can't believe I still have another 100 days to go though!

I wonder what's beyond the horizon.

100 days and counting

Why Coached Swim Workouts Rule

Been a busy few days!  No blog yesterday due to a Fortius post-swim beer and pizza night at Blue Dog Grill in Sherman Oaks.  It was well-deserved too, with a new PR in the 100 (1:26) and being totally gassed after anchoring a 4 x 50 sprint relay at the end of the workout.  I wanted to write, but just didn't have the energy after all the food, booze and trash-talking dished out among my Fortius team buddies.  So I saved last night's entry for tonight. I'm still caked in dried sweat and salt following the LA Tri Club Griffith Park Wednesday brick workout.  But I know if I don't blog now and wait until after a hot shower, it just may not happen at all.

There's certainly lots I could write about from the past two days.  Whether Tempe Town Lake will be filled in time for the Arizona Ironman, for example. Or, how I'm recovering from my bicycle bonk on Sunday.  Or, the secret guilt I've been harboring lately about balancing work, home and training.

Instead, I'm going to address a question Coach Gerardo had for me last night at the bar.  He asked how I thought coached swim workouts make me better.

I hadn't really considered it before.  Perhaps it's because I've taken it for granted, since I've swam with an instructor's supervision for more than a year now.  The more I think about it though, the more I realize how much of a difference a coached workout can make.

For me, it comes down to four key benefits:

-- Breaks up the monotony. Before I started attending SCAC and Fortius Coaching swim workouts, I'd trudge to the pool on my own, count laps, trudge out of the water, and think I had put in a good workout.  I dreaded every pool training session, and I saw little improvement.  By having a coached workout, there's always the excitement of wondering what the coach has in store for you. It changes with every workout, and by breaking up the hour with drills, time-trials and sprints, every workout feels unique enough to stay fresh.

-- Pushes you out of a comfort zone. When training on my own in the water, it's easy to rationalize just about anything.  Distance. Duration.  Decreasing sets.  Decreased effort. Especially effort.  If I didn't feel like going hard -- for whatever reason -- I could make up an excuse.  In a coached workout, dogging a workout wastes your financial investment and your precious time.  More important, if you respond well to direction like I do, then it's easier to "let" someone else push you through a hard workout.  Sure, it's fun to whine and light-heartedly complain about it (like I do), but the satisfaction that comes with responding to and rising above someone else's challenge makes a coached workout a more special experience than a solo effort.

-- Competition as motivator. If you're anything like me -- and if you're reading this I'm guessing you are -- sharing lanes with people at or above your skill level makes a difference in a workout.  When you swim alone, you can isolate yourself in the water and ignore the surroundings.  When you're part of a group, and there's five lanes that represent a swim speed hierarchy, it's a lot harder to avoid the reality that a coached workout may be your only ticket to improvement.  For me, I crave and dread that competition.  On one hand, I love to know how I stack up to my friends.  On the other hand, I hate when I'm keeping them from a faster lap time because they're behind me and can't quite pass in the lane at that moment.  Maybe it's better to say competition as catalyst, fear as motivator.

-- Peer pressure. 6 a.m. is early by anybody's standards.  It's flat-out awful in the winter when you're practically naked jumping into a semi-heated pool.  But when there are 10 other people doing the same thing, sharing the same experience and making the best of it, well, it's not so bad.  The coached swim workout is a bonding ritual. It's those quiet mornings in the pool when everyone in attendance could be asleep that bring individuals closer together.  It's also one of the reasons I get misty eyed at the finish chute during triathlon races.  Those are the moments I recall.  The quiet, gentle water being ripped by hungry athletes trying improve themselves.  The eerie light in the pool shining brightly reminding you that the sun hasn't risen yet -- but you and your teammates have been up for almost an hour already.  The steam that drifts to the sky if the temperature difference is big enough -- punctuated by the silhouettes of latex-hooded, goggle-wearing tri-maniacs trying not to shiver.

Those are my fondest moments of a coached workout.

Though being high-fived after hitting the coach's goals for a new time-trial PR aren't bad either.

Now I need to sign off pronto.

I've got a coached swim workout to attend at 6 tomorrow morning.

101 days and counting.

Overdoing It

I wrote my blog last night in a strong but tired state of mind.  Then, I signed off my laptop to fall asleep. And waited.  And waited.  And waited some more.

Actually, I waited a loooong time before even coming close to sleeping.  Despite the chilly 67 degrees setting on my air conditioning, I was flushed.   I kept changing pillows to find anything resembling the normal coolness that soothes me to sleep.  No relief.  My skin felt like it was truly hot to the touch. Feverish, almost.  My head throbbed. Eventually, I trudged into the living room and tried to crash there -- with an ice wrap on the back of my neck and the cool leather of the couch providing some unlikely help.  That barely helped.  Whether it was waking up to readjust on the couch, use the restroom or drink water, my exhausted body just couldn't turn itself off.

I've really never had that happen before.  Even my heart rate felt elevated.

I'm not quite sure what heat stroke feels like, but if I had to guess, this was it.

And I had nobody to blame but myself.  In hindsight, yesterday I shattered the line between breaking new ground and breaking myself in the process.

After about four hours of fairly awful sleep, 8:30 a.m. sounded off on my alarm with all the charm of a drill instructor banging pots.  There was no way I was going to be productive today at work, so I used a sick day and just stayed home and rested.  I caught up on some extra sleep only to be rudely awakened by Trudy and Bam-Bam using their condo as a jungle gym once again.

I swear I'll have my revenge on them one day. (In a perfectly legal way, for any lawyers reading.)

Overall, I feel better now.  I tried to do too much over the past week and my body decided to send a formal letter of protest.

Message received.

I should be more even-paced over the next few days, which will help.  And I've once again learned a valuable training lesson: Intensity is not always the best substitute for duration.

There will be many more challenges during the next three-plus months march toward the Ironman.  Hopefully, I'll approach those challenges with my usual smarts and ease back on the bravado.

Easier said than done!

103 days and counting.

Mulholland, Piuma & Rock Store OH MY!

The shininess of progress is sometimes obscured by what appears to be failure. But if you look a little deeper, the former often outweighs the latter.

Progress sure hurts sometimes too.  I ventured out to cycle with my Fortius teammate and friend Christina this morning.  It turned into the most challenging, most painful bike ride yet -- and hopefully with he biggest payoff down the line.

First let's rewind.

My schedule called for 2.5 hours at whatever pace "the group" chose -- hills or flats.  It was supposed to be a nice follow-up to yesterday's Santa Barbara Triathlon course preview ride and run.  That went out the window though once a LA Tri Club member whom I look up to showed up with his wife and served as the ride's pace leader.

I had to know if I could keep up.  I wanted to hold Jeff's wheel without wrecking myself.  I wanted to be with the "fast" group.  Maybe it's because I still remember all those rides where I'd get dropped with the San Fernando Valley Bicycle Club.  Maybe my competitive nature got the better of me once again.

Probably a little of Column A and a little of Column B.

The short version of the story is that for 50 miles, I did keep up.  Outside of popping briefly on the El Toro grade off Highway 150 and losing the other three fastest riders, I stayed right up front.  And damn it felt good!  Even better, the five-mile run felt just as a good. I snapped off a few 8:30s and sub-8:15s while helping pace a new friend on the Tri Club.

As much fun as practicing can be, sometimes being thanked for a helping hand in training or a compliment on speed can really make all the difference between a good workout and a great one.

So with all those good vibes swirling around in my head, I didn't think twice when Christina invited me to join her for four hours of climbing in the Malibu hills.  After all, I needed to fit in the extra cycling hours I missed last week at the Vineman Full course, and we were supposed to hit 70 on the bike yesterday.

Clearly, I wasn't thinking straight.  I failed to take into account that Christina is the "Queen of the Mountains" after crushing her competition at the Amgen Breakaway Ride -- which features four climbs of the Rock Store grade.  Four!  Christina also scales these hills at least once or twice a week as part of her training for larger bike rides and at least an Ironman a year.

Christina is a badass.  And until this ride, I had no real conception of what that actually meant.

And I had no idea AT ALL what climbing Mulholland Drive, Piuma Road, Rock Store and several other hills over a 55-mile span would do to me.

On a road bike with a full carbon seat I haven't ridden in weeks.

Simply put, the ride almost broke me.  Physically, it actually did break me.  Mentally, it came as close as anything ever had in the past.  I'm talkin' LA Marathon kind of pain.

By mile 25, at the intersection of Cornell Road and Mulholland, I had enough.  I was spent.  My cadence went from a steady 80-100 on flats and 60-70 on hills to roughly 53 on hills (even down in the 40s!) and well in the 70s on the flats.  After the Mulholland Piuma climbs and on the way to Rock Store, Christina's bike became harder and harder to spot.  Like a speck amidst the waves of heat rising from the freshly paved asphalt.

Honestly, I felt pathetic.  Hot.  Dry.  Heavy.  Hurting.

I wanted to quit.  I was about to quit.  I told Christina I wanted to quit.  I was ready to go home. The ride had beaten me. Shocked me, like a surprise left hook.  Staggered me.  Showed me I still had a lot to learn as an endurance athlete.  Just because I brought the noise on a Saturday didn't mean squat.  Back-to-back was not meant to be.

Is this what being an Ironman is really like?  Had I missed the point the entire time?  It's not about one sprint race, or a good Olympic distance time or even one Half-Ironman result.  What can you bring back-to-back?  How fast can you recover?

If those are the yardsticks, I had failed.  I knew it.  And the worst part was not having the defiant energy to swing back at those self-doubts in the cloudless Sunday sun.

Christina gave me some tough love though, coated in understanding and softness.  She coaxed me to stay, saying Rock Store would "only be 25 minutes of pain" (normally it takes me around 17-18 minutes!) and I'd be home free after that, feeling great about my accomplishment.

I couldn't argue.  I didn't even have the energy to do that!  Moreover, I didn't want to derail Christina's ride.  Or let her down.  Or quit.  Again, if I could quit now, what would happen in November if I had two flat tires, a cramp in the swim and a knot in my stomach during the run?  Worse yet, what would happen if nobody was nearby to goad me into sticking it out!?

This blog was conceived with my thought of it serving as a "big goal guide" for the kids I don't have yet.  Kids who hopefully will read this one day and if nothing else, they'll know their old man was never a quitter.  I may not have been the fastest, or kept the wheel of the best guy in the club all the time. But I show up the next day.

And I don't fucking quit.

I ventured on, accepting the pain. Realizing that once again, all my platitudes about overcoming suffering really didn't mean anything until that point.  There's discomfort (my Half Ironman), and there's suffering ... today.  Suffering occurs when there seems to be no reason to continue.  The Half-Ironman at least had a finish line.  The comfort zone in your training passed by 15 miles ago and there's easily another 20 miles still to go before returning home.  With at least four hill climbs.  The water bottles are low.  The Clif bars taste the same -- they have since last November -- and gross you out.  The Hammer gels taste like cake frosting that makes you want to barf.  And the Gu Chomps...well, there's small writing on the back of the packaging indicating you shouldn't eat more than six in a two hour period for a reason.

The ride sucked.  The ride taught.

I cracked.  And repatched.

I wilted. And am regenerating.

While tomorrow now features a rest day where one didn't exist a few hours ago, I'm feeling better already.  I learned something about myself again today.  Discomfort is a speed bump.  Pain is a choice.  The brain can propel the body forward even when it really doesn't want to -- provided there's enough fuel in the system to do so.

And sometimes, your best friends, your best teammates, are the ones who push you past your perceived breaking point to show you what lies beyond.

Thanks, Christina.

I'll be back on that course.  And I'll do better next time.

104 days and counting.

Crispy

I woke up at 5 to drive to Santa Barbara and train for the morning.  Fortius and LA Tri Club members rode at least 50 miles in preparation for the Santa Barbara Triathlon in a couple weeks. Some of us, including myself, ran five miles immediately after.  Others ran 10. The day, as usual, has been non-stop since.  And now, at 11:15 p.m., it is finally ending after sobbing my way through Toy Story 3 with Stephanie.

Pixar, you did it to me again.

I'm toast now.  Crispy.  Deep fried.  DONE.

Tomorrow, I'll write much more in-depth about the Santa Barbara Triathlon course, as well as what will likely be a grueling but fun workout with my Fortius teammate and friend, Christina.  We're going to climb darned near every hill in Malibu over the course of four hours.  I hope to keep up with the Queen of the Mountains!

Now it's time to refuel on rest.  More later.

105 days and counting.

The Perils of Not Stretching

A negative side effect from my busy week has been my lack of stretching.  Really, the past two weeks have been like this. It's beginning to take its toll.

Today is my usual off-day from training.  But it feels like I worked out twice.  My right calf is tight and sore.  Probably from my swim yesterday morning when it cramped up in the middle of a relay race where I squared off against Coach Gerardo.  I couldn't fold in the middle of the 50 even though my calf was begging me to.  Now my leg is paying the price.  My left IT band and right shoulder are also achy.

I remember when my massage therapist and Fortius teammate David told me soreness tends to spiral in the body since the muscle groups spiral around bone.  I'm walking...err...shuffling proof of this right now.

Not stretching is one of those "proceed at your own risk" things.  It doesn't immediately show its effects, but collectively, a week without foam rolling produces moments like the one I'm considering now -- I don't want to get out of my chair because I'll hear all the cracks and creaks in my body.

Don't remind me, Father Time!

Yes, I'm "only" 36, but days like today make me feel a little older.  And not quite as spry.  I miss the days of rapid recovery.  Like when I was in eighth grade and would play sports all summer long, day after day after day.  I'd say rinse, wash, repeat, but back then it really was just repeat, repeat, repeat!

Still, not working out for the day has been a welcome relief.  Especially knowing that tomorrow I'm waking up at 5 a.m. to drive to Santa Barbara for a SB Triathlon course preview ride and run.  My buddy Frank is joining the Fortius crew and me.  I'm not looking forward to the wake-up call, but the cool, crisp air and beautiful seaside and mountain views should more than make up for it.

Now, it's off to a family barbecue.  The activity stream continues!

106 days and counting.

Blogging is Hard

Triathlon is easy when your life responsibilities are few.  I have a career and a great fiancee, along with a fantastic family and close friends whom I'd like to see more. I don't have kids.  My job doesn't suck.  I'm healthy, Steph is healthy and our parents are healthy.

Life is pretty awesome.

However, that doesn't mean it's not busy -- even with the relatively few commitments Steph and I have.

I've been up since 5:30 a.m. (though I cheated with a nap after swimming at 6). I went to work, rushed to the track for an evening Fortius-coached running workout (two timed 400s, two timed 800s and a timed 1,200 along with drills), rushed home, showered in five minutes (literally, I timed it) and bolted with Steph to dinner in Studio City.  I just now am finding time to blog.

Last night, I didn't even have the energy to try.  And it was another one of those crazy busy days.  I admit I could wake up earlier than I have been late, but the Ironman training volume has been increasing and I need my rest when I can get it.  Maybe the stress of it all combined with some fatigue led me to lock my keys inside my condo yesterday morning.  Fortunately, since it was the Griffith Park brick workout, I had my bike with me and a change of clothes.  So I dashed from Sherman Oaks to Burbank (in 35 minutes, with traffic, thank you very much!).  Worked through lunch into the early evening, time trialed to Griffith Park to catch the end of the group bike ride and ran for an hour in the hills.  From there, Coach Gerardo was kind enough to drop me off at home after I bribed him with dinner at Sharkey's.  By the time I got home, unwound with Steph and got ready for bed, it was already 10:30 p.m.

I realize that doesn't seem late for many of my friends.  But at the frenetic pace I tend to keep (by my own preference), I wonder if my 10:30 p.m. feels like most people's 3 a.m.

Anyways, my point to all this is that blogging is hard right now.  I had this wonderful vision of blogging every single day leading into my first Ironman.  And, like the tail-end of a sprint where you simply start to run out of gas and willpower, I'm starting to feel the same way about blogging.  I love it, and I really mean that.  But, it's sometimes getting squeezed at the expense of the rest of my life.

This is not my farewell to blogging.  Far from it.  Blogging has actually helped me understand and appreciate my Ironman experience far more than had I not done it.  The days would have blurred together. The insights would have been missed, along with the special milestones.  If not for my blog, this journey would have felt like a slog, not the adventurous roller coaster filled with blind corners and unforeseen drops and loops.

I guess all I'm saying is be patient with me, if you've been supporting this site over the past several months.  I will not let you down.  I will not let myself down.  But there may be a day or two here or there where I just might not be able to fit the blog in.  Sometimes life does move so fast that if you do slow down, you just might miss it.

Every once in a while, I just need to live and not chronicle living.  Last night was one of those nights.  Tonight almost was too.

Let's see what tomorrow brings.

107 days and counting.