Not Feelin' It

Practically every time I pack my bag the night before for a 6 a.m. morning swim -- goggles, cap, towel, sweats, Zoomers -- I wind up not attending the workout. What's up with that?

The rationale with packing early is to save time so I can sleep longer in the morning.  It's my way of committing to the swim hours before I enter the water.  Sort of a pre-bedtime psych job. Yet, on the days where I can drag myself out of bed for the workout, it's usually because I need to scramble and scrape together my workout gear.  I wonder if being more prepared is somehow actually enabling me to sleep more deeply, thus making it harder to wake up.

Today though, I honestly just didn't feel like going.  I wasn't feeling it, flat-out.  I didn't even feel like training at all, for that matter.  Maybe my post last night about changing pace stuck with me longer than expected.  Maybe it was the barbecue cheeseburger, fries and a salad at 8 p.m. after my run with Stephanie.  Maybe it was the tinge of embarrassment I still have for getting testy with someone in the pool during my most recent swim on Tuesday night.  Or, the fatigue associated with a frantic end to the workday, a frenzied bike ride home, a brick workout and writing another freelance article for Lava Magazine.

It's probably all of the above.

So at 3:19 a.m., I  searched in the dark for my cell phone, clicked off the alarm, and went fetal.  I decided to skip training today altogether and switch it to tomorrow, normally my off-day.  The extra two hours sleep was time well-invested.  I had a big meeting today that required my full energy, and a late evening planned at the Hollywood Bowl.  No afternoon bonk fight to resist.  No stiff legs either.

Of course, that means tomorrow I'm waking up at 6:30 after probably getting home around 11:30 p.m. to swim (alone, gah!) and then run at lunch.  To continue my streak of including a Yogi Berra quote in my posts, "It's like deja vu all over again."

At least my swim bag is already packed.

78 days and counting.

Change of Pace

Today went according to plan, right until it didn't. Sounds like a Yogi Berra-ism, right?  Well, it is.  I cycled to work from Sherman Oaks to Burbank using Chandler Blvd., which traverses a good chunk of the San Fernando Valley.  It was such a relief NOT to play vehicular dodgeball or Frogger for a change.  I could enjoy myself on the bike.  No heart-rate monitor.  No rush.  No worries!

I was on track to attend the 5:30 p.m. weekly Griffith Park brick workout, but a work emergency quashed any possibility of that happening.  Thank goodness!  I had a fantastic evening and still got my brick workout in.  I left the office around 6 and essentially time-trialed home in 34 minutes via Chandler and courtesy of a small paceline of speedy cycle-commuters.  Seriously, I think I'm going to invent a sport called Commuter-Cross!  But that's a different post for a different day.

I got home around 6:45 p.m., ditched my bike and called Steph to see where she was.  Unfortunately, the answer was about what I expected...stuck in traffic.  But, Steph wanted to join me for running!  This hasn't happened in months so I was thrilled. I circled the block a few times warming up until Steph was ready to join. I got my heart-rate zone 3 out of the way in the first half-hour so I could spend time running at Steph's pace.  We jogged for another 30 minutes together; of course, Steph wanted to push it on the last block.

Instead of showering and eating in, Steph and I walked immediately to the Blue Dog Tavern for burgers and beer.  A spontaneous date!  We laughed, caught up and just had a great time hanging out.

It's moments like that where I realize how regimented triathlon training is.  And how welcome a change of pace can be.  Both literally, as in changing the pace of the bike and run based on how I'm feeling and the situation in the moment.  And figuratively, as in rolling with the punches and actually having an even better evening than I would have expected.

I'll try to remember that throughout my training in the coming weeks and months.  Things may not always break my way.  Plans will change.  Especially next year when there's more going on at work than ever before.  But if I can realize that sometimes the unexpected just may be an enhancement, then I think I'll be in great shape.

79 days and counting.

Santa Barbara Tri Photo Gallery

I wanted to upload some images from the Santa Barbara Triathlon this weekend.  Haven't posted many images lately so I'm trying to make up for it here! I took this first photo on Friday, the day before the long course event. Steph and I were re-visiting Firestone Vineyard in Los Olivos, about 40 minutes north of Santa Barbara.  We're probably going to get married there.  In this exact spot one year from now!  That's my beautiful bride-to-be. I'm a lucky dude.

It's always easier to shoot photos before the starting gun goes off at a triathlon.  Especially with a camera that doesn't do action sequences well.  In the second photo I'm with my buddy Kevin, a fellow Fortius team member who had a terrific race -- clocking in around 3:39.  By the way, the water temperature was a crisp 59, or possibly even colder. Hence me wearing a "squid lid" for the first time.  I actually found it to be very comfortable and effective.  I was noticeably warmer in the water and would use it again if necessary.

Image number three is a quick one of Steph and me minutes before the start of the race. You can really see my "race face" come out in the fourth image shortly taken after that in the next shot standing at the starting line.  Go time.

Image five...aaaaannnnd they're off!!!!

That's why I looked so intense a few seconds before. I've done enough of these tris to know I was about to be kicked, hit, grabbed and shoved underwater for the first 300 yards of the swim.  It's that moment right before the starting gun goes off where you wonder, "Why am I doing this to myself again?"

OK, not really.  I love this!  I thrive on the competitive chaos. Who am I kidding?!

Somewhere between the image above and the sixth image taken with my Fortius coach, Gerardo (right), and Fortius teammate, Bob (left), I swam a mile, biked 35 miles and ran 10 miles in 3:43:01.  I outlined what happened on the bike in Saturday's post, but I haven't really said much about the run.  It was my fastest "distance" run to-date, with an average pace of 7:46 for a total time of 1:17.  But that's not what jazzed me the most.  For the first time I can recall, I was told I paced someone else to their personal best run.  That's what I usually tell someone else at the end of every race!  A 25-year-old kid , Chris, was clocking 8:15 miles with me for the first few miles of the run.  Chris felt out of his league on the pacing but I gave him advice on how to stay in the right physical and mental zones for longer. I suggested that he walk through the water stops, walk up inclines if necessary and save himself for the final three miles of the run, where he could really pour it on.  I outpaced Chris on the final five miles, but he wasn't far behind at the finish.  We shook hands, and the gratitude he showed really made my day special -- especially after such a frustrating bike ride.

Once again, giving back to others or motivating them somehow feels so much better than just taking from this sport.

Finally, after the race and the Fortius team celebratory lunch that followed, I took Steph out for a special thank you and surprise. It's important that our significant others know that we couldn't compete to our fullest without their understanding and encouragement. I always try to keep that in mind, every day.  So, I took Steph to a flower stand so she could pick out her own special bouquet, and we enjoyed some fantastic gelato at Scoops in Montecito.

What a relaxing ending to a frantic day!

And for those playing along at home, today's workout: 28.68 miles on the bike before work, 2,200 yards in the pool after work.

Now I'm done.

80 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.

Just Another Day

Some days, just describing the activity is enough. This is one of those days.

6 a.m.: Swim with Fortius.  Timed 100 dropped to 1:27 on a dare from Coach Gerardo.  Nice breakthrough!  But it also came at the mid-point of the workout instead of at the end.  Still, I'll take it!

8 a.m.: Weight training (legs and core)

9 a.m.: Podiatrist to pick up orthotic inserts.  I've been running on my flat feet for the past week and a half.  My feet and and IT bands have paid the price.  It's a welcome relief to have arches again.

10 a.m.- 6:30 p.m.: Work, which was explosive today.  I can say that almost literally since I work for a videogames developer.

7 p.m.: After driving from Burbank back to Sherman Oaks, Steph and I met up and headed to the Hollywood Bowl to see Gustavo Dudamel conduct the LA Philharmonic performing Gershwin and Bernstein classics.  The pianist stole the show, though I could watch for hours Dudamel mesmerize the orchestra and the audience.  Total command and control with grace, charm and confidence.

11:10 p.m. Returned home after fighting Bowl traffic.  Writing blog. Eyes drooping. Body sagging.  Bed calling.

11:11 p.m.  Good night.  Let's do it again tomorrow.

109 days and counting.

The Last Date

Stephanie and I had our last date tonight. As weird as it may seems, it's true to a degree.  After this evening's date at the Hollywood Bowl, never again will I pick Steph up from a home other than our own.  I met her at her now former apartment near Park LaBrea early this evening. It didn't really hit me until on our way dodging traffic to the jazz concert, when Steph started to reminisce about all the dates we had had over the years that started just like this. And how that sense of excitement when she opens the door to greet me after primping to get ready will never be quite the same.  Of course, now we're roommates for life.  Which we're totally excited about!  But it's interesting to briefly pause and reflect on one period of our lives formally ending -- the "single dating period" years -- while another starts.

Steph and I both understand that you never stop dating your partner.  For the moment that occurs, the relationship really falters.  But that sense of two lives lived separately in two places is now in the rear-view mirror once and for all.  Tonight really marked the official tipping point of two lives becoming one.  An engagement ring is a symbol.  Closing the door of an empty apartment and opening the door of a now overflowing one is real. And very special.

Our last date rocked.  I can't wait for the next one.

115 days and counting.

From Tin to Steel Man Part III: Post-Race Vacation

Every romantic holiday should start by shotgunning beers. At least mine did!  Stephanie and I celebrated our Half-Ironman achievements with my Fortius teammates at a friend's home in Santa Rosa.  I knew it would be a raucous time when Mike sent me a text message, "We gonna shotgun beers!"

Uh, OK.  Actually, I think I texted back, "Fuck."

I hadn't shotgunned a beer since college, back when I was known as "Twiggy" and "Two Beer."

After 70.3 total miles in nearly 90-degree heat, I knew I'd be "One Beer."

We all laughed, drank (fairly heavily), traded race-day stories and ate a ton of carbs -- all with the Tour de France playing in the background.  It was this triathlon dork's dream party.

So began what has turned out to be a decadent week off from training, which I've enjoyed as thoroughly as the race itself.  So far in this racing odyssey, I've really yet to take adequate time to savor a race experience to the fullest.  I'm usually analyzing (and re-analyzing) every detail, immediately writing the blog, planning the next race and comparing notes with my fellow competitors.

For once this season, I decided to fully unplug and do what's most important: celebrate with my fiancee.  No Facebook (well, a little).  No Twitter.  No blog.  Just Steph and me.  Roadtrip companions.  Riding down PCH, no hotel reservations, no destination in particular, no plans.

No problem!

I've probably written about this before, but triathlon is a selfish pursuit.  It requires a lot of dedication and discipline, often coming at the expense of friendly social outings with mates and family.  That can pose problems in a relationship, especially if the other person isn't a triathlete.  That's why I've tried to ensure that Steph knows  that even though I'm doing the actual racing, she's my real race companion.  The person who makes my motor run.  The inspiration that makes me go just a little faster.

When I compete, I refer to us as Team Schneider.  And I really mean it.  But if that's the case, then WE need to celebrate better.  And that's what we did Sunday, Monday and Tuesday.

On Monday, we drove the Vineman 70.3 bike course so I could show Steph the route's beauty. Of course, that meant showing her several charming wineries that nearly led to impromptu wedding venue visits.

Annnnnnd we're moving right along. ... I sped up a little more at those intersections!

We had a good time talking about the key moments in the bike race and where exactly they occurred. I think it helped Steph visualize more of the experience since she could only see me during brief transitory moments.  We then took River Road past Guerneville all the way to Bodega Bay, stopping whenever the thought struck us for photo opps, an oyster shucking lesson and eventually a gigantic burger in Point Reyes further down on PCH.  Did you know Sir Francis Drake visited North America in 1579?  Yeah, neither did I.  Apparently he stopped in the Point Reyes area, maybe because the burger was just that damn good.

We eventually snaked our way on Highway 1 past Mount Tamalpais, through Saulsalito, past the Golden Gate bridge (hiding behind the clouds) and through the western most part of San Francisco.  By then it was close to 7 p.m. and we realized our plan of reaching Big Sur by sunset was going to fail.  But this turned into a big win since we had been trying unsuccessfully to visit with Steph's best friend Annie the entire weekend.  We shifted course to Annie and David's apartment in Los Gatos and enjoyed a late-night feast.

Tuesday was largely uneventful as we leisurely drove home from Annie's.  The key words are leisurely and uneventful.  Both my life and Steph's are so heavily scheduled that the notion of "free" time for either of us is almost unheard of.  This vacation was special not because of what we did, but what we didn't do.  We didn't rush from activity to activity, or plan around my training.  Of course, we did touch down at home around 4 p.m. only to leave a few hours later to enjoy another feast -- this time in Santa Monica -- with our good friends Erika and Adam.  (If you haven't eaten at Rustic Canyon, I'd recommend it. Though I'd avoid the pork chop unless you like it on the drier side.  The corn soup, crispy polenta, lamb meatballs and assortment of desserts more than compensate.)

We got home around 10:30 p.m. Team Schneider's whirlwind five-day Half-Ironman had crossed the finish line.  Much like how I looked at the end of the race, that's how I felt by the time the long weekend was over.  Gloriously spent.  We left nothing in the proverbial fuel tank.

To all my friends racing Vineman Full: I hope you will celebrate as hard as you trained.  I hope you hug or kiss the people in your life whom also sacrificed to help you reach your goals.  I hope you let them know how much it means to them when you see them screaming for you at every transition -- knowing they're really waiting several hours at a time just to catch a glimpse of you.

We couldn't do any of this without our race partners.  I can't do it without mine.

And I'm happy -- almost happy beyond words -- that I don't have to.

I may be signing off for a couple days.  If something comes up worth writing about during my time off, I will blog. If not, I'd like to spend more time with my friends and family before I dive back into the deep end of Ironman training.  I know what's in store for the next four months.

121 days and counting.

Packed and Primed

There's a shopping cart from the underground parking garage occupying my condo's living room.  It's got one bag filled with oatmeal, powders (Perpetuem is my preferred race day fuel), bananas, anti-cramp pills (Sport Legs), gels, Gu chomps and water.  Another bag contains my running shoes, hat, anti-blister powder, sun block, extra socks, emergency gels, fuel belt and bottles.  That gets checked in at Windsor High School the day before the race and I won't see it until T2.  A third bag contains my wetsuit, and the fourth bag has my tri backpack with all the race day goodies. Yep, I think I'm good to go.

But that's not all!  We still have roller suitcases for both Stephanie and me.  I'm honestly not sure if everything will fit in the car.  We'll have to do some creative packing tomorrow when we head out at 7 a.m. (Cue 6:15 a.m. wakeup call!) Fortunately, Stephanie is very good at that.  The packing, not the wake-up call.  (What a trooper though for taking a day off from work to get up at 6!  Yes, I owe her one, if not many.)

My race countdown clock is officially on.  I can feel the excitement building, and the tapering seems to be doing its job.  I feel mentally like I'm building towards a huge crescendo.  My body is peaking.  My mind is peaking.  My energy is peaking. And I'm just along for the ride.

Speaking of along for the ride, one of my college fraternity buddies, Rusty, is joining me to cheer me on this weekend.  He's also checking out the Vineman course for his full Ironman coming up on July 31.  I haven't seen Rusty since Lord knows when, but his kindness in driving three hours to get a hotel room for the night and help me celebrate this milestone means a lot.  It's hard to remember the "sacred bonds" of fraternity life from 15 years ago.  What seemed so important and "epic" back then is more or less trivial now in the scheme of things.  Or so I had grown accustomed to feeling.  Rusty, without saying a word, has reminded me that brothers remain that way in heart and action throughout life.  I'm almost as excited to reunite with him as I am fired up to compete in this event.

It is now almost 11 p.m.  The clock is ticking.  I'm winding down for the night.  Some stretching, then sleep.  Then, the long drive to Napa Valley.  And a weekend of memories that will hopefully last a lifetime.

There will be more Half Ironman events.  And hopefully more Ironman events.  But there will only be one FIRST Half-Ironman.  And I am ready for it.

128 days and counting.

Ironman and Beyond

Somewhere amidst the craziness of the past few days, I'm still managing to fit in my Ironman training.  Today marked the annual LA Tri Club Wednesday Griffith Park brick, which was a welcome return to normalcy. I think the collective energy spent running around town and balancing the other important aspects of my life are taking a slight toll on me physically this week.  My bike ride was average at best, though to be fair a breezy cross-wind in the hills leading up to the Griffith Observatory slowed me down too.  The first 20 minutes of the ride were especially hard on my legs.  I couldn't tell if that's because I need more time to warm up or if I'm simply a little fatigued. It's probably a combination of both.

I picked it up on the run though, banging out 7:52, 7:38 and 7:24 miles to wrap up the day.  However, as a result of pushing it a bit I may sit out tomorrow evening's track workout depending on how I feel.  It's optional based on Coach Gerardo's schedule so we'll take it as it comes.

Let's focus on the big picture for the moment though.  Earlier today, I mentioned I signed up for my second Ironman Coeur d'Alene, Idaho. (This means I'll need to really remember how to spell this place properly!) June 2011.

Am I nuts!?  I haven't even completed my first Ironman! I have no idea what to expect or if my body can even handle it yet I'm going for it again.  Is that confidence or stupidity?  Both?  One thing it is for certain is an example of healthy peer pressure, as my Fortius buddies Richard and David are signed up as well.

Rationally speaking, the reason I signed up is that I figure I'll be in peak physical condition (knocks on wood) and want to take advantage of that as much as possible while I have the time and ability to stay that way.  Further, Stephanie and I will be married in September 2011 in all likelihood.  Completing my second Ironman at the end of June allows me to enjoy the rest of the summer, focus on wedding planning and generally relax instead of training myself into the ground right before The Big Day.  I envision that I'll still complete a couple Olympic-distance events before the wedding though and maybe one late in October just to keep me honest.  Then, my long-term goal is to focus on one more Ironman the following year, an international event in some exotic location.  After that, I'll likely switch to Half-Ironman events and ease back on the training intensity a little.

Of course, we all know that G-d laughs at those who make plans. Still, I like to hedge my bets. If I can pull it all off, it will be one heck of an adventure.

Actually, it already has been!  I can only hope and dream that the best is still left to come.

Still 136 days and counting.

Week Done!

This week of training, while not particularly hard, left me slightly gasping for the finish.  Maybe it's the long weekend. Maybe it was waking up before 6:30 a.m. three out five weekdays.  Or that Trudy and Bam-Bam are back to wreak havoc on Stephanie's and my sleeping patterns. The more I think about it, I'm probably just a bit more tired than usual because of the mere 12 hours separating the track and swim workouts from this morning's 1.5-hour bike ride at Griffith Park.  I didn't really push it, but by the end of this morning's ride my legs were definitely glad it was time to call it quits.

I'm scheduled for some yoga now, which I'm going to our work gym to complete.  That'll probably restore and refresh me.  Tomorrow, I have an off-day as Steph and I are back on the wedding  venue scouting trail.  Ojai and Los Olivos are on the docket.

I'm looking for some highlights or superlatives to describe today's workout.  Not much comes to mind at all.  It was one of those rides where you find yourself looking at your watch more for a countdown to finishing as much to see how fast you're going or where your heart rate stands.  I know my calf compression sleeves came in handy and reduced what felt like sore and stiff legs when I woke up this morning.

What can I say...some workouts are just more enjoyable than others.  Then again, it was gorgeous out, without a cloud in the sky.  And in a few years, it will be a real privilege to be able to fit in a pre-work bike ride.  So I file this one away to, Don't Take It For Granted!

139 days and counting.