A Happy Fall-Ure

My dad and late grandfather are the two men I look up to the most.  My work ethic comes from them.  So does my passionate nature.  My sense of honor and integrity.  And yes, my temper too. One of my favorite things about my father is that he always sends me articles to read.  Whether they're on business, life, or sport, it doesn't matter.  They all have one thing in common: Improvement.  My father lives that credo every day himself.  He's constantly reading and more impressive, applying those learned principles in his 30-year-old automotive repair business.

Once a week, I can count on there being an article in my inbox that he'd like me to read and comment on.  Today's article was so good I'm going to share it with you and offer both him and you my response.

The author is Jonathan Fields, who sounds like a really cool dude.  My kind of guy.  Into a lot of different kinds of things.  In today's blog post, Jonathan wrote about what legendary author Jim Collins said is the difference between failure and what he calls "fall-ure" For the non-click inclined, here's his definition (using rock climbing as a metaphor):

"Failure is when you get to the crux, start to feel your legs shaking, your forearms and fingers flaming out, your nerves rattling and focus flagging…then just choose to give up, peel off and hang on the rope.

Fall-ure is when you get to that same place. Heart pumping, sweat pouring from places you didn’t know you could sweat, ground a distant memory and, instead of choosing to let go, you commit fully to the next scary-as-hell move. You go for it with everything you have…and still fall.

Failure is about going most of the way, then bailing on your defining moment.

Fall-ure is about going all of the way, then falling in the utterly committed pursuit of a quest.

And, the difference, the willingness to go all-in and fail at the biggest moments, is very often the difference between epic journeys and a lifetime of excuses."

My father thought this aptly described my journey towards Ironman Arizona and wanted to know what I thought about that.

Well, Dad, here's what I think.

When I first read this post I was so moved that I lost my breath for a moment.  I believe that I have pursued fall-ure my entire life, weird as that may sound.  And now there's a made-up term to describe that feeling.  Words to define an instinct.  Whether my desire to pursue fall-ure was taught or self-learned, I'm not sure.  I think, Dad, that you and I are the same in this regard.  So I believe we both learned it from your father, my grandfather.  Whether it was trying out for teams I had no business making (how many times did it take before making Hillside's basketball team?), or winding up in places I never belonged (how many times was I told "no" before scoring a press pass to the Reagan Library opening?), I've never let that fear of rejection or the unknown stop me.  And one need not look further than my relationship with my fiance to confirm that in all areas of my life, I've risked everything (and sometimes failed in the process) to do what I think is either best for me or a goal I want to achieve.

So, as it pertains to this odyssey that is the Ironman, I could very well drop off the proverbial cliff come race day.  I might get sick.  Or crash.  Or just have a bad day.  But, one thing I won't do that day is fail.  I've trained 550 hours so far not to fail.  The actual race is 17 hours or less.

Were I not to finish at Ironman Arizona, I would not consider it a failure.  Unless I simply quit, which would never happen.  They will have to drag me off that course or I'm crossing that finish line.  This is my final build week before heading into a three-week taper.  I've done the work.  I've passed the tests, week after week, rain or shine (like today, where I biked two hours in the damp, rainy LA basin).  At every crux, I've climbed.  And when I've slipped, I've found a new crux to leverage.

I think that's the bottom line in triathlon.  If we continually push ourselves, we can't fail. If we bonk, it's a lesson, not a judgement.  If we crash, it's a DNF, not a Did Not Compete.  We show up.  We race.  We practice.  We learn.  We grow.  We do it again.

No matter what the results say, there is no failure in that.

But if we're not trying to outdo ourselves each time, there cannot be fall-ure either.

So, Dad, I hope you can live with your son being a total fall-ure.

And for what it's worth, I think you're a fall-ure too.

30 days and counting.

PS: In case you missed it, my latest article for Lava Magazine is now live on their website. It's about balancing relationships and training.  I think we could all use some help in this area!  Here's the link.

Bad Luck Monday

There are certain days when the best thing to do is stay in bed.  Avoid showers.  Avoid going to the bathroom.  In other words, for better or worse, don't move.  And for heaven's sakes, don't train! That best describes my past 24 hours.  I've been attacked by a series of silly bad luck papercuts, adding up to one bizarre day:

-- I spilled a bottle filled with Accelerade in my gym bag last night, likely ruining the camera that has taken most of the photos you've seen in this blog.

-- Earlier today, I took an involuntary shower when the lid to another water bottle wasn't secured tightly enough as I tilted it down towards my face.

-- I had a problem with the condo at home this morning that required me to stay there until the early afternoon.

-- On the way into the office today, I ordered lunch from my local Baja Fresh.  The same spot I go practically every week once if not twice.  I order the same thing for the most part, alternating between burrito plate, taco plate and fajita plate.  Today, for the first time in the years I've gone there, they screwed up the order -- loading my burrito up with sour cream.  Which, of course, I encountered the hard way.  I HATE sour cream.

Fortunately, today is a recovery day from training.  Not much can go wrong with an easy spin on the trainer (which went off without a hitch, thankfully) and a yoga session (still to come, fingers and legs crossed!).  I'm actually doing yoga at home tonight since I think I'm done venturing outside for one day.

I can't believe I'm here in one piece still!

Tomorrow and Wednesday it's supposed to rain.  Maybe it's a sign that I should continue to stay indoors and ride the spin bike or trainer. Only time will tell, unless the power goes out on my alarm clock.  At this pace, I better not joke about it!

32 days and counting.

Head Games

Before I get started, a couple quick updates: 1) Yes, I fixed the chain.  I was in the wrong gearing setting to have enough room off the chain guard to fix the issue.  Silly me!

2) Check out the new Fortius Racing kits!  This is what I'll be wearing come race day at Ironman Arizona.

Now, I return you to today's regularly scheduled blog.

When it comes to my Ironman training, there are two questions I get asked the most:

1) Why do you do this to yourself?

2) What the hell do you think about for 2.4 miles in the water, 112 miles on the bike and 26.2 miles on the road?

Those of you who have followed me from the beginning know why I am doing this to myself.

As for what I'm thinking about for hours at a time sans iPod or training partners, it varies.  I suspect I think about many of the same things you do.  Work.  Love.  All the football games I'm missing while training.

This past Saturday, as I fought 56 miles of headwinds on the 126 Highway in Santa Clarita, I didn't think about much.  Instead, I had an internal soundtrack playing in my head.  Which for me, happens fairly often.  It's as if I'm a mental video editor.  A song comes to me, images accompany the music, and I'm inspired and entertained while being mentally transported somewhere else.  My eyes are on the road and while they see the ground in front of me, they're locked onto something else.  Something bigger.

This weekend, that meant more Muse.  Ever since seeing the band a couple weeks ago, I can't get them out of my head. I'm literally playing my favorite songs over and over and over again in the car or if I have a spare moment to chill out.

Up in the mental jukebox this time was Map of the Problematique:

Video and Lyrics

My "video" kept me engaged for hours.  The narrator: Of course, the voice of the Ironman DVD specials.  The scenery: Kona.  The competitors: Elite pros.  The drama:  Weather, heat, pain, suffering, elation.

What's funny to me is that I'm nowhere to be found in this story.  It doesn't matter.  Whatever it takes to get through these workouts.  Where I'm at in my training, 115 miles on the bike and a 30 minute run Saturday followed by 16.6 miles trail running (in heavy, wet fog leaving me soaked to the bone) and 2,300 yards in the pool today... I'll take my motivation, inspiration and entertainment any way I can get it.  Even if I have to make it up myself.

Incidentally, I was further entertained on Saturday by finding the spot in Fillmore where my company's live-action trailer for Resistance 3 was filmed.  Here are a couple photos of the train yard where the old train cars from the trailer are housed in a special museum.  I also rode past the bridge where in the trailer you can spot a Widowmaker and a couple Grims.  Fortunately, I didn't see any of the above.

Forgive me, I was envisioning something else anyways.

33 days and counting.

Rest Day

Thanks to a half-day at work and and an off-day from training, I enjoyed a true rest day. Ah, so this is what it's like?

I got home around 1:30 p.m. and, after catching up on HBO's "Boardwalk Empire" (Al Capone's character steals the show in this series), I took an hour nap.  What a luxury!  I was only awakened once by Trudy and Bam-Bam, which isn't bad in the middle of the day.

Instead of feeling run down at the end of a work week, I feel refreshed and eager to get on the bike tomorrow for another 112-mile jaunt.  Except, in my eagerness to clean said bike I popped the chain while applying White Lightning chain greaser.  I was flipping through the gears and cleaning the chain when I dropped into the smaller chain gear and watched in astonishment as the chain bunched up like a train wreck around the crank.  I tried fixing it based on what I'd normally do if I dropped the chain on a ride. This seems worse.  The chain is completely separated from the crank and pedal, just dangling there helplessly.  Fortunately, I'm riding with Frank tomorrow and he'll help me fix it.

Well, at least my bike is pretty.

This sort of mechanical problem is what I'm most afraid of for Ironman Arizona.  While it's unlikely I'll drop a chain on a flat course, if I get a rear tire flat I'm going to be in trouble.  I plan to practice over the next few weeks, as I've mentioned in past posts. But it's especially frightening to think a silly chain derailment could be the difference between meeting my goals and a big fat DNF.

If anyone has any suggestions on how to easily pop the chain back on when it's separated from the crank, I'm all ears.

Until then, I'll continue to rest.  And avoid touching anything that has moving parts.

35 days and counting.

Nine Hours of Awesome

I've trained nine hours this week, with another nine to go.  The last two days have been especially intense though.  And I wouldn't have it any other way.  I could have taken the easy way out. Coach Gerardo gave me only 16 hours originally but I asked/begged/demanded more work.  I'm so glad I did.  Finally, I can appreciate what he meant by embracing the challenge of the distances involved in my training.  Just getting through this week feels special. Today's workouts included a difficult 2,300-yard swim at 6 a.m. followed by cycling hill repeats and 20 minutes in zone three aero after that.  Two hours, 20 minutes of hard work.  My quads howled by the end of the bike workout, yet I felt so accomplished that I let out a primal yell to nobody in particular.  I didn't care if it startled people along the Griffith Park walkway or if people thought I was crazy.

We already know I am.  And by "we" I only mean you and me, not my "other" personalities.

Kidding.

Really.

Now I'm winding down for the evening, after a busy day of work.  A good day of work, I might add.  Despite my fatigue, I felt fresh in meetings and on my "A" game. My father shared an article with me about how a prominent business executive makes sure he's moving when he's thinking because it allows him to think better.  I believe there's something to that.  As long as I get enough rest and eat well, I definitely can see a connection between staying active and staying sharp.  I wonder if other people feel the same.  It's almost like fitness is the metaphorical equivalent of dressing up for work.  I used to find that if I dressed dapper in the office, my performance would follow suit. Now, toss out the tie, replace it with the bike shorts, and voila!

Tomorrow, we have a half-day off from work.  Despite my nine hours of torture -- training -- I'm inclined to work out some more.  I won't, because I can hear Gerardo from Texas telling me how bad of an idea that would be.

Can't peak too soon.

36 days and counting.

PS: I still need to compare my running threshold data from the last "official" test to yesterday's TT.  However, I think the last test measured a mile run and this was more about 20 minutes maintaining a certain heart rate and pace.  So it might be apples to oranges.  My first glance indicates I ran a mile 11 seconds faster yesterday and more miles in general.  Interestingly, my heart rate was roughly the same (high 160s).

Double Post Tomorrow

Here's the 10 second version: Woke up a little late this morning (not at around noon) but still got my threshold run test in.  No time to upload the watch data yet so I can't compare past performance.  Tomorrow.

Went straight from work to a so-so yoga class at Black Dog, which was surprising since each session there is typically stellar.  From there, rushed to grab some dinner (Poquito Mas for second straight night, yes I'm a creature of habit).  Quick catch-up with Steph, some Modern Family catch-up, pack training bags for a swim-cycle brick tomorrow, and now it's somehow 10:40 p.m. and time for bed.

Es mi vida ahora.

Tomorrow is going to be a tough training morning.  I'll write all about it tomorrow night when I play catch-up with the rest of my life.  The exciting stuff, laundry, dishes, workout uploads, bike cleaning.

Ah, the good life.

37 days and counting.

Tri-Asshole Redux

Guess my Tri-Asshole blog post touched a nerve.  It was so nice to see y'all respond to the post, but to be honest, I'm fine about the whole episode.  At first, I'll admit my feelings were pretty hurt.  But I quickly realized that his comments reflected more on him than the race itself.  To be fair, I also know that Ironman Arizona is among the "easier" Ironman races. I picked it for a reason in that I wanted to enjoy my first Ironman and get my sea legs, so to speak.  And that's just what I'll do.  There's no shame in completing any Ironman of any kind.  Anyone who's ever embraced the spirit of the sport knows that. Back to spirit.  While Tri-Asshole and I interacted for only a few seconds on an elevator ride, that conversation has already yielded tangible gains in my training.  Tonight, I swam a 1:16/100, my new PR by a whopping SIX SECONDS.  I didn't know I had that in me at this stage of training. Coach Gerardo did, but I doubted him.  (When am I going to learn?) And that was after cycling 35 miles this morning that included a 75-minute zone-3 time trial.  AND, that swim PR came at the end of a 2,250-yard swim session with the Fortius gang tonight.

How did it happen?

It would certainly be more dramatic if I indicated that I had visions of smashing Tri-Asshole's face in while swimming to new heights (or is that lows, in this case).  But it's just not true. What Tri-Asshole did was simply motivate me to work harder the next few weeks.  To make sure I sweat just a bit more.  To not ease off on the gas pedal.  To not coast until after I cross the finish line.

I got a swift mental kick in the ass.  And I feel outstanding.

So, what I am saying is that I've turned a potentially mentally damaging situation into a healthy positive.  I'm not sure I would have reacted in quite that manner a year ago -- whether in the workplace or in the gym.  I do think endurance sports training has enabled me to find some mental and emotional padding that allows me to bounce back from stinging comments or even physical pain.  It is an invaluable asset in a chaotic world.

It just took a real jerk to remind me of that.

Before I finally go to sleep tonight, I'll be sure to think fondly of him.  I owe him one.

38 days and counting.

Tri-Asshole

I despise hotel internet service charges. In fact, I refuse to pay them.  So when I saw that my Portland hotel room required $9.95 to use the web per day, I knew I wouldn't be posting any blogs for the weekend.  I will post a few images though.

But I must share one story in particular from the wedding weekend.  The Portland marathon wound through the magnificent city yesterday, which required every ounce of restraint on my part not to participate.  Of course, the fact that it was sold out in July helped matters.  There were a few runners staying at the Hotel DeLuxe, including one man who strode in Saturday afternoon wearing an Ironman Coure d'Alene jacket.  Naturally, I wanted to introduce myself and chat.

Well, he didn't want to chat.  Especially awkward since we were sharing an elevator ride.

I told the man I was racing Ironman Arizona in a few weeks, to which he coldly replied, "You could have picked a harder one."

Talk about a Charlie Brown moment!  This guy removed the football before I could kick it and tripped me along the way!

I awkwardly stammered about how IMAZ was my first, which only dug me deeper into this guy's dark hole.

"I did Silverman for my first."

Well, uh, I did Wildflower this year.

No response.

Then, mercifully, it was time for my exit.

"Have fun," he said.

Gee, thanks.

It took me a few minutes, alone in my room, to get over such a hit to my psyche.

Ironman Arizona...easy?

Finally, I regained my sense of perspective.  I had merely met my first tri-asshole, which is rather amazing since I've been in the sport for two-plus seasons now.

And in the end analysis, Tri-asshole fueled my fire for the remaining two weeks of peak training.  So much so that I snarled and begged Coach Gerardo to increase my training workload this week and next so that I finish my peak training in the strongest condition possible.  Gerardo had taken off 15% of my workload since this past week was so light, reasoning (correctly I'm sure) that it's potentially detrimental to boost hours significantly from one week to the next.  But I'm more than ready.  Having the last few days to relax and not think as much about training helped re-energize me.  And it's not like I didn't train either.  Earlier that Saturday, before I met Tri-asshole, I ran three hours...on a freakin' treadmill.  Granted, it wasn't the fastest pace (roughly 17.5 miles), but I still did it.

That run ultimately doesn't matter right now.  Only tomorrow matters.

In case you can't tell, I've got my game face back on.

Tri-asshole has no idea what he's started.

39 days and counting.

Forced Recovery

I'm off to Portland, Ore. tomorrow to witness the wedding of a couple Stephanie and I are friends with.  That has meant a (much) abbreviated training schedule this week.  To the tune of "only" 13 hours, the bulk of which have already been completed.  All that's left is a three-hour run on Saturday followed by an optional 45 minute swim. Speaking of swims, I had a rather long effort tonight with the Fortius gang: 1:20:00 straight. I warmed up with 20 minutes non-stop before the workout began, and then we proceeded to swim a series of 400s, each with descending times and drills.  Coach Gerardo estimated I probably swam around 4,000 yards.  More important, this was the first time in all my training where I basically swam the duration that will be required for the Ironman swim.  It's a LONG time in the water!  And it's amazing how easy it is for the mind to wander once you get in the Swim Trance.  There were periods of several minutes where I had the same sensation as when I'm driving long distances and I don't remember the stretch of road I just passed through.  How odd, since I'm much more actively engaged in the swim than piloting an automatic drive vehicle.  Does that happen to anyone else? It must.

I'm not sure how I feel about such a light week as I'm close to peaking for Ironman.  On one hand, I'm eager for the time off, but I know there's so much work left to be done before the big event. I was just starting to really ramp up, only to drop back down.  I'm not foolish enough to think this will affect my overall fitness level, but I can't help but wonder just a little bit if it's the difference between being 10-15 minutes faster during the actual race.

It's moments like these though where I realize how lucky I've been with my training.  For the most part, I've been able to hit every workout as planned.  Weather has cooperated.  Circumstances have cooperated.  My body has cooperated. So I need to keep that kind of perspective, and just enjoy a rest week when I can get one -- even if it's inadvertent.

I will try to blog over the next few days, but it may be difficult to say the least.  Check this space again on Monday, just to be safe.  Or I'll tweet if something interesting comes up.

Enjoy your training weekend, everyone!  It'll be rainy up north...soak up the sun while you can and appreciate our good fortune to push ourselves to be the best we can be.

43 days and counting.

Indoor Brick

You're looking at today's bike ride...all three hours of it. I borrowed one of the spin class bikes at our office complex gym and rode two hours solo before participating in a spin class led by one of my Shan Clan, personal trainer and friend, Shannon Flanagan.  I even adjusted the bike's positioning so it felt almost exactly like my tri bike, adding towels for padding at the base of the handle bars so I could ride in aero without discomfort.

I'm trying to figure out if riding on a trainer or spin bike is actually harder or more grueling than riding outdoors.  Obviously, it depends on the workout.  All I know is that today I went through three -- THREE -- shirts.  Each soaked to the core.  It was like a Chinese or Vietnamese wedding where the bride makes separate entrances to show off a new dress.  Except the bride isn't usually in the middle of a workout.  I was so drenched that by the end of my 30 minute follow-up run my feet were wet.  Even my shoes were soggy!  They still are, almost three hours later.  That just doesn't happen when I'm doing brick workouts outdoors.  Not even at the height of the summer in Malibu Creek State Park before Vineman 70.3.

When I told Stephanie tonight about my workout (I should note that I took a half-day off from work to complete it), she was puzzled about what I could possibly do to stay focused and entertained for that solo duration.  Having music now is such a luxury that listening to my iPod is more than enough to keep mentally occupied.  I can't tell if that's mental insanity or mental toughness.

Tonight was one of those times where I took to heart what Coach Gerardo told me a few weeks ago about embracing the duration of each workout and basking in the accomplishment of completing it.  The rain poured outside.  The final Griffith Park brick workout of the year may or may not have gone off without me.  Yet there I was, slogging through my own brick, using vacation time to get the job done.  I must admit, crazy as it may seem, I enjoyed today.  It was a different workout.  A new challenge.  And I'm glad I didn't just roll over and skip the workout altogether.  Believe me, I thought about it.  It would have been the rational thing to do.  Nobody could blame me. Except my coach.  But I know I would have been disappointed in myself.

Is there anything worse?

44 days and counting.