Moved to Speak.

“When I was a kid my parents moved a lot, but I always found them.”

~Rodney Dangerfield

Its the 13th week of The Plan (formerly known as training). I was set on the all great calendar of pain to swim 3000 this morning, not a very big deal considering I swam 3000 last week already. I have been feeling remarkably strong in the pool. This morning was no exception and I surfed my way to 2800 comfortable and finished with 3200 uncomfortable. I pushed myself hard the last 1000 and it was worth it to feel that emptiness afterward when I stand up on deck for the first time and wobble my way back to shower.

The left knee is holding up nicely since I gave it a mini break from running.

Note to self--

Unsupportive Running Shoes
+
Bad Bike Fit
+
Crazy-ass skiing
=
BAD KNEES.


This morning I came in and saw a man sweeping stuff out into the hallway from our lab corridor. The door was open wide and he had his big, wide, floor sweeper/duster PILED with crap from our floor. It was obscene how much crap he had swept up. He was a pleasant enough guy-- a big, older mexican guy--who moved for me so I could get past and to my desk.

I came around the corner to my desk and saw that he had piled my nasty, dirty cords and stuff from the floor up onto the surface of the desk. I felt a little miffed that he had forgotten to put them down (its gross that they were there, anyway, but I figure I would have rather just not known at that point) again when he was finished. I look around and saw that the floor was remarkably clean. There was virtually no dust around. I was in awe. He had only dusted/swept, and our lab floor looked better than I had seen it look in years. So I told him that.

He explained our normal cleaning lady (oops, Custodial Technician) had been hurt on the job and that is why we have had different people in here every morning. He thought that our floor "looks neglected" and he "doesn't want it to get any farther behind" so he was scrubbing it this morning.

I don't think I could thank him enough, or more profusely.

My perspective changed. I took the cords and opened one of the drawers where I keep the computer overnight. I left the drawer partway open and propped the cords up on it. I returned to my desk and realized how shortsighted I had been-- he was leaving those cords up there so he could continue mopping. Duh, Aaron. So Smawt.

I moved some other things around and helped him by moving some waste containers while he mopped. Then he went to get a big scrubby pad and proceeded to hand scrub our floor. Amazing. This is amazing, I told him. It felt like Christmas. He laughed and we talked for a bit. I shared with him my history of employment, a significant percentage of which included scrubbing Golds Gym floors and bathrooms, and how much I appreciated just for myself seeing it be clean. My new amigo then went to get the big autoscrubber machine and is now scrubbing the heckfire out of our nasty floor.

It looks amazing. It smells clean. He takes pride in making it look nice just for the satisfaction of making it cleaner than it was when he got here. He isn't complaining about the time, the effort, or his lack of pay. He hasn't mentioned unions once. He hasn't stopped chatting with me or smiling or being polite.

I just sent his supervisor an email explaining how wonderful this man is.

He reminds me that regardless of what it is you do, you should take pride in it.

What is the Meaning of OW?

"Monday morning. Time to pay for your two days of debauchery, you hungover drones."

~Monty Burns

Today is really March 24th.

It is Tuesday, the first day of the 12th week of Ironman training V.2009.

Where am I, now?

Saturday we rode over 60 miles. It was moderately hilly and very cold in the morning. No rain, though, which is always a bonus. [I had just started to write about how kind the weather had been so far this year, but at that moment a virtual "shhhh" came from virtual Jan who reminds me not to tempt fate and jinx us.] Some rides its ridiculous how swift the punishment is when I mention something about the weather not being too bad. The words leave my mouth and not 3 minutes later we are swamped in rain, pelted with ice crystals or hunkering into our jackets from the snow... or some mixture of all three.

Saturday was a tough bike ride, but Jan really crushed it and forced me to step up my game a lot. Good girl. She mentioned something about making a point not to sandbag this ride, and she meant it. From the very beginning she held a torrid pace and I followed her for much of the ride. She pushed up the early hills so hard that not only was I not slowing down for her like normal, I was pushing myself to keep up. Did you read that? I WAS PUSHING MYSELF to keep up. My legs were still tired from my ski day, but that was not causing this. Not only was I impressed for her, I was astounded. I knew what she could do, but never really knew how to awaken the girly- dragon within. Well, it woke up. And now that the secret is out, I wonder how she will ride in the future?

I realized she might be pushing waaaay too hard, so I reminded her we had some hilly sections heading back home. She agreed but kept pushing. I smiled and followed dutifully. Very, very proud coach. If she can learn to run like this... women triathlete opponents watch yourselves. There is a sleeper in Kenmore.

She is the exact opposite of me. When I bought my bike, I was a red blur everywhere I went. You could smell the lactic acid eeking out of my pores, because everytime I sat on the bike it was all or nothing, burn-the-daylights-out-of-my-legs kind of ride. Didn't matter how far or short, how hilly or how flat, who I was with. GO GO GO, as fast as I can, as long as I can manage. Everyone always asked me, "Why do you always ride so fast?" Or, "Do you always train this fast?" I thought they were just jealous. Ha. Turns out they knew something.

And now I impart to Jan the value of a huge amount low intensity work, year after year, and how after a few years, at the same intensity, you go much faster. And its working. I just had to learn it for myself, first...

Sure enough the hills hit and we both conked out. We did make it, encouraging each other on. Hill after hill, we slogged it out, until the very final downhill stretch. And then, like a dope-slap, I was riding behind (like a lot of this ride) Jan when all of the sudden a really loud HIISSSSSSSSS emanated from her rear tire, and it sank in a slushy mess flat to the ground. Of course. OF COURSE.

I ranted and raved for a few moments and Jan (kindly) suggested we stop complaining and fix it. After acting childish for a few minutes and watching Jan struggle with the tire changing, I grew up and helped and we got it done and were on our way.

Then the reality of the situation hit me: I was changing a flat tire, getting grimy and dirty after a HARD 60 miles, with the woman I love more than anything. Together we did it all. How cool is my life? And how cool is the woman I get to share it with?

Sunday I ran 1:15:00, 75 minutes, for 8.2 miles. Mostly flat. Easy pace. Felt good, on tired legs and sore left knee from crazy skiing the previous week. The knee troubled me enough that I accommodated it in my running style, but its not so bad that I am concerned. The tension and pressure put on it from skiing is a very certain kind of force that threatens to pop the knee cap off outward. It happens when I maintain the position of my skis being under me in the thick and heavy snow that, when I hit it at high velocity, slows the skis down considerably and wants to pitch me forward. Think about breaking a small branch in your fingers. You hold the branch in your fingers with your thumbs oon the branch pointing towards each other in the middle. Using your index finges, press down and oppose that force with your thumbs by pressing up to bend the twig in between your thumbs. Now imagine a knee cap right where the bend is occurring. That was my knee cap.

Monday was a day off. A seemingly short and useless day off, especially at 9:30 PM when your phone rings and its the lab in which you work telling you to come in because a critical freezer has failed and no one else is available. Forget sleep, big dude.

Today I swam 3200 yards. I swam 200 warm up, 4 x 500, 4 x 250. I had my own lane the entire time, and swam my perfect pace. It was awesome. Its one of those feelings to finally get to swim the way you want. The importance of occasionally having to deal with throngs of people and altering your tempo, swim hard then fast then hard--its good. 2007 taught me a lot, one of the most important lessons being the difficulty of the swim. That is not your normal swim and you will NOT be just swimming your training swims out there, no way. All that is great but some days you just want to have your training plan, get in the pool, and mentally check out. You want auto-pilot to drag you up and down the lanes. You want to be in the moment feeling the water slosh between your arms and head, hear the sound of your breathing, the flow of the water over your back. You don't always want to be thinking the best way to get around the backstroking 90 year old, the kicking girl and the two chinese guys swimming sideways. Today was ideal.

And so training goes. And then there will be this big exciting race and then it will be over. Again. And beyond that, where this life goes, is anyone's guess. But for now, I relish the tired body and the thought of the hills and the rain. Even the flats. I know its a different perspective when you are out there, but really, what is better than exercising because you want to, in a clean, free, beautiful place, with a wonderful partner? Obviously I guess doing all that somewhere warm and comfortable, if you asked the Girl. For me, there is something so satisfying of checking another day off the calendar, knowing that as long as I do what is posted there, I will be 95% of the way to my goal on June 21st. And the rest, that uncontrollable 5% or so, I just have to hope my preparation is sufficient to handle whatever comes my way.

Morning becomes... a cold dark bus.

The morning becomes a cold, dark bus. I would rather be sleeping than making polite jokes with the other bus riders, but what choice do I really have?

Aaah. The quickimart!

Bike Ride Test Post

Its a good day. Two coffees, my girl and technology that allows me to blog from my phone...

Week...something.

"Dont go searchin' for a mermaid if ya don't know how ta swim."

~Great Big Sea

This morning it struck me: I sometimes feel like a Moose swimming across a lake.



Questions to ponder:

Are you ever really "ahead of schedule" in training?

How little training is too little?

If you wait long enough, does someone really do it for you?

Are hills more resistance training on a bike than cardiovascular training?

Can I average 19 mph and then run a 3:30?? Really????

What shall we do with a drunken sailor early in the morning??


Yes, its Tuesday, which means its the beginning of another week. Man, this is going by quickly, now... I feel terrific; the bike riding is "ahead of schedule" about a month and the swimming is in the same place. My running is kind of lagging only because I wasn't planning on ramping up the marathon training until March, which is now a week away. Gulp.

Can you be ahead of schedule? This is such a hard question. Just because I am stronger and able to do more this time around than I was in 2007, is it merely the fact that I am in much better shape overall and have done a greater number of triathlons and therefore training miles/hours in the time since IM 2007? Knowing that my physical state is not the same, should I adjust to match my current fitness level and abilities even though that deviates from the plan, or do I stick stalwart to my plan, which I admit seems a bit light for my lofty goal. Gulp again.

Can I average 19 mph over 112 miles? Yes, I feel this now.

Can I do it after that swim, and before the marathon, though?

I am trying to weigh the value of hills versus all out distance. Jan and I rode nothing but crazy hills last year and it wasn't the distance I am used to cranking in, but man, I was really strong on the bike. So, this year we are kind of doing a mix. I can not believe, every time we go out, how good we are feeling. Sure, we have not increased our speed consciously yet, but we are getting faster anyway. And, we are approximately 1 month ahead of my planned mileage and I am considering staying that month ahead and working on some speed during my longer rides in May. Wow, can I last that long? My poor body.

My poor wife.

Now, try to LOOK like you're having fun...

"After all, what is your host's purpose in having a party? Surely not for you to enjoy yourself; if that were their sole purpose, they'd have simply sent champagne and women over to your place by taxi."

~P.J. O'Rourke

Holy crap, I started writing this on the 8th? What is today, the 20th??

Oops.

When I started writing this, I believe it was the 5th week of training...the end of the 4th week. Today I write near the end of the 6th. And wow, its amazing how things roll on. With or without you, everything keeps ticking on by.

The 4th week was hard, the 5th week harder. The 5th week included a 3 hour ride around Whatcom and Skagit counties, South and East of Bellingham. The ride was difficult but fun, and the next day Jan showed off her excellent new running form on the trail between Fairhaven and downtown Bellingham in the sun. It was a terrific Valentines Weekend with terrific training to boot. It was a good end to a good week of training, and a much needed change of scenery.

Not to mention some REALLY amazing food. Holy shit.

The 6th week has been different, because I thought I was getting sick early on after taking Tuesday to go skiing all day. Wednesday I woke up feeling pretty bad, swam anyway, and by the end of the day was really feeling awful. When standing in the pool you get chills and feel kind of dizzy--thats not a good sign that you are on top of your game. Wednesday night I took it easy and also took Loratadine, a generic, Costco form of Claritin, and hoped for the best. Thursday I was pleasantly surprised to wake up feeling good again--whether from the drugs or the Vitamin C I was pounding all day Wednesday (to the tune of about 6 grams over 12 hours) I do not know. What I do know is that I am suspicious of my yearly February allergies, lurking at just the wrong time. In 2007 I dont remember the allergies, but we were religious about taking Claritin (the original form of Loratidine) so maybe I didn't know when I had them. Maybe I just forgot.

At any rate, its Friday now of the 6th week of training, and I had the best swim yet of 2009. It was perfect. The pool was empty enough that Jan and I were 2 of 4 in our lane and 3 of the 4 total swimming at a reasonably quick pace for me. One guy was swimming slowly enough that I could pass him without adjusting my effort--all in all, I was able to swim 3 x 500 and 2 x 250 followed by a set of 200, 2 x 100, 4 x 50 and a 200 cool down. Grand total yardage for the day: 2800. Not too shabby for 45 minutes of swimming in February.

Tomorrow is the Pharmaceutics Department ski trip, which I am attending. Not that I plan on being social, screw that. This last Tuesday Brian and I dodged school for the day, and it was THE best day of skiing I have ever had out of the probably 8 total outings I have had in my life; now I am looking forward to getting a little extra in tomorrow. Afterward the whole gaggle (approximately 20 pharmaceutics/med chem students) are ending up at our house, and so it will be interesting to see where all of these people sit... better clean off some extra chairs...

I have to figure out what my weekend training schedule is going to be, because I normally bike on Saturday and run on Sunday-- but Saturday is skiing, so I don't know yet how to adjust. Maybe a brick on Sunday. I think that may be it. Let's see what the girl thinks.

June 21st is so close. Its almost March already.

Marathon training is about to begin in earnest. Its a huge difference completing a casual 17 mph 112 mile bike ride and then a 4:15 marathon versus pushing the bike pace to average 19 mph over that same 112 miles and then plunging headlong into a 3:30 marathon. My fastest marathon ever is 3:24, but that WAS with terrible and less than minimal training. My point is that the times may not look so different but the effort required is HUGE, and I have got to experience these tempos in training soon.

And my stomach excitedly knots up. I love this shit.

One of THOSE People...

"If you cannot be a poet, be the poem."

~David Carradine

Perhaps you have had this experience:

You do something, something completely "normal," and someone says:

"Oh...you're one of THOSE people."

So you say, "One of WHAT people?" Its hard not to feel defensive, right?

To which they reply, "Oh, you know, one of those people who ___________."



What?? Wait a moment. Did I just get criticized for that or was that just the way it sounded? I do believe it is entirely possible that the statement can be a compliment. For example, a girl who is looking for Mr. Right might hear about you making weekend Valentines plans and be really looking for someone to do that for them, and they sound critical but really wish it was THEY who were going to X place for the weekend. But what they actually verbalize is "Oh, you are one of THOSE people who takes their girlfriend/wife/whomever to _____ for the weekend."

In which case, YES, I am.

But it can also be a very tough thing to interpret.

Say you are picking up some things from around a common area at work. Someone sees you busy doing this kind of monotonous task and says:

"Oh you are one of THOSE people who sees something that has to be refilled or cleaned and just go and do it right away..."

To which you reply "Yeeeeeeaaah, and the bad part of that is....?"


Anyway, just an observation. Are YOU one of THOSE people???

2 out of 6? Perfect!

"Whenever you are asked if you can do a job, tell 'em, "Certainly, I can!" Then get busy and find out how to do it."

~Theodore Roosevelt

I was grinning.

I shut the small viewing window on the front of the gel doc, an instrument that allows me to see and photograph the bands of different size DNA fragments which I had separated in an agarose gel. The bands, highlighted by the ghostly UV lights below the black tinted glass, were glowing brilliantly in patterns resembling the impression a spiral binding might leave on uncooked pizza dough. This little window gives me a pleasant view down onto my handiwork while protecting my eyes from burning into cancerous nodules protruding from above my snout after too much undiluted UV exposure. I clicked a few buttons of the digital camera menu toolbar on the computer screen to clarify and brighten the image, and took a snapshot.

Beep. Click. Done.

A few clicks later...
The photo came creeping out of the small, whirring, Mitsubishi printer. I tore it slowly and carefully across the serrated edge and held up the new photo. Everything about this was more pleasing than normal. Two things caught my eye and made me smile, yet again. A particular glowing band in lane 3 and 6, corresponding to the 2 KB mark in lane 7--the ladder. The other 4 lanes had no band at 2 KB. This remarkably small piece of data led me to some powerful conclusions.

I made some stupid remark to Jean and Brianne about the beauty of those two bands to which they rolled their collectively 4 eyes.

Those two bands meant a lot to me. To my thesis. To others in my lab group. A year of work, probably more, potentially saved from the magic "redo" box. Instead of attempting to troubleshoot and reinvent my previous work, I would only have a couple of small steps to perform. My mood reflected this potentially good fortune and I literally bounced off to my desk where a bottle of 15 year single malt awaited me.

And then, of course, the gym for day 1 of this weeks training.

Believe: Week 3 Done.

"Survival is nothing more than recovery."

~Dianne Feinstein

2003, Lance Falls, attacks, almost falls again, attacks again. Yikes

Week 3 is over, can you believe it?

I believe I made it through another week, although it took more determination than the previous two. It took a lot of that self-talk. I believe I made it through some hard days and now can look back and say "I can do that, even when its not fun or doesn't feel good." I believe I made it through some other days that will now make it easier to complete the days to come.

I believe in the work I did and how much commitment it requires to wake up every morning and go to school and work even though it feels terrible, and to make it through that day to my workout at the end. I make it through, dragging myself and my spirit, but still I managed to get the time in towards my goal of Ironman. As hard as it gets, I am so motivated towards my goal of breaking 11 hours that I feel mechanical towards training--no thought required. That may very well be the best way to approach it, also, because when I start to think is when the doubt has a chance to sneak in, when the distraction of discomfort rears its unwelcome head. No, instead its better to approach it like a robot in a lot of ways, methodically and unfeeling. However, as hard as it is, I enjoy the hunger, I enjoy the burn, I enjoy the last 100 in the crowded lane and wavy water. It hurts in a wonderful way, training for Ironman.

Yesterday I could not bike ride because of the plans for the day, so it was a morning for a quick 30 minute spin followed by an hour of super easy running. It was sunny and perfect outside, albeit 35 chilly degrees. Jan and I went to the small tourist town of Poulsbo for the day, and on the way home it started snowing... it was like a bad dream--didn't it already snow enough this year? Jan and I kept on thinking winter was over; after all we have already received a couple years worth of snow in Seattle in December. But no, this was really happening. It IS still January, so it has "the right" to snow, but it's just mean for more snow to hit us.

Today is going to have to be biking day, since we ran Saturday. Hmph.

The snow had better stop... The weather.com report Saturday evening seemed to indicate it would, indeed, stop snowing and turn to sun at noon Sunday. But this morning when we got up it was snowing and there was a slight dusting on every cold, flat surface. I cringed at the thought of biking for 3-4 hours in that, and opted for a 2 hour trainer ride. Jan concurred and I set about getting our bikes ready for another hard 2 hour garage ride.

It was a hard ride. Trainer rides always are, especially when you watch the tour de france DVDs and see how hard THOSE guys are working. Damn, I am glad that is not ME!

Says the Ironman.

Thursdays are my Friend that Hurts Me.

"A professor is one who talks in someone else's sleep."

~Anonymous

I am posting this a day late. Oh well.

Its Thursday. The day that the toll of not only the workouts from Tuesday and Wednesday begin to take effect but the mental toll of the week.The beatings and mental lashings. Thursday is also moving closer to Friday afternoon when I am not going to be in school for 2 and a half days straight. That is my weekly goal.

Not only that, but the recovery day, Monday, seems to mean next to nothing. Really I need a recovery week. But that would not be conducive to Ironman training, would it? Monday might as well be another training day because Tuesday, while I am excited and mostly feel ready for the workouts of a new week, my body is less and less able to get moving as the training wears on. In a few weeks malaise is going to be the word of choice. Its starting to creep into my thoughts, already. Its only the 3rd week.

But (and I know its improper to begin a sentence with "but") even as tired as I get I still look forward to workouts and I still feel "up" when I start going. I look forward to the early mornings on saturdays to get out on the bike and still have time left in the day to play. Or eat and drink. Or sleep. Or all of them. Its true the work is difficult and will only grow more demanding, but I am keenly aware of the rewards and dividends it pays.

I once heard someone say "what's the point of doing this (ironman) if you arent going to win or have a chance to win?" That's a tough question to answer. First, if you are asking that I hope you are not the one doing it because you will never experience the joy that it can bring and do not understand the nature of this sort of challenge. Second, you are a neanderthal driven only by your insecurity and ego and therefore not even worth arguing the point with.

When I cross that line in June, regardless of my time, I will have won.

Seattle Winter Sun!

"My wife and I just prefer Seattle. It's a beautiful city. Great setting. You open your front door in the morning and the air smells like pine and the sea, as opposed to bus exhaust."

Ron Reagan

What does Ronald Reagan Junior have to do with Seattle, or biking, or anything for that matter? And who knew he liked Seattle. And...what?

The explanation will be startling to some, because it is the closest to A.D.D. I will ever be. What I will do is actually write-out my train of thought, as I decided to let the train run its course. It started with biking, and ended with Ron Reagan.

I like to begin every blog entry with a quote that usually has SOMETHING to do with that about which I am writing. In this case, I thought it would be a good blog to describe how surprising the weather was in Seattle today, during our 3 hour bike ride in the very middle of January. Typically, winter is a nasty time of year to be outside in this region.

I decided to describe the sun that came out and how surprised Jan and I were to be biking dry for a change and not be wearing our rain shells. I was even going to point out in the picture that the ground is DRY as a bone, and, if you look closely to the right of the bathroom building against which our bikes are leaning, you see the strangest glow... some parts of the world call it Sunshine. We believe it is a mythical event in the winter, here in Seattle.

Having formulated my basic topic for this blog, I set out on finding quotes about Seattle. I found a couple of interesting ones, including:

"I really liked the Seattle movement."

~Axl Rose

and

"My parents were laborers so we lived on South Park, which was a low-income region of Seattle. You had a choice - you either joined or formed a gang or you let others bully you."

~Jack Bowman

And there are others, less interesting, usually having to do with grunge music or rain or coffee. And then I saw the name Ron Reagan, and, like many of you (or both of you, seeing as how two people read this crap I post) I originally thought former President Ronald Reagan.

No, this is RON Reagan. The cast-away Reagan Jr. who because a liberal, atheist Ballet dancer who lives in Seattle...with is wife. In case you were wondering. He is about as ANTI-reagan as Stalin.

I became immediately interested in this individual and therefore arrived at the page which the link on his name takes you to. Its interesting how we get to where we are, literally, figuratively, and creatively speaking.

And so, now, here we are. We have officially finished the second week of Ironman Training, and we are really feeling it. The 6 days in a row, every week, consists of Monday off, Tuesday Lift Weights, Wednesday Swim, Thursday Lift Weights, Friday Swim, Saturday Bike, Sunday Run. I will be soon adding in additional running and biking during the week, and eventually other things will change. We will eventually nix the weight lifting and increase the number of swimming days. 2.4 miles is a long way...

The second week felt good. I feel my energy level during the day increasing, which usually happens at that apex early in the season when my fitness level is increasing but my training is not completely sapping my will to live. This usually lasts a few weeks and gives way to the MALAISE PHASE of training. This nasty, tired, hungry, grouchy phase is no fun for anyone who has to work or live around/with me, and lasts all the way until a couple weeks before Ironman. So that being said, lets all enjoy ENERGY PHASE while it lasts.

Today my legs were strong, and felt good. The struggle will be to ride faster, this year, but Jan's greatly improved level of fitness (that damn girl was pushing me on the last 10 miles, today) should make it much easier. I remember the last time we did this, in 2007, we both started pretty out of shape, with Jan never having really done any serious long term training. This year she is a seasoned veteran to the world of triathlon and triathlon training, and it shows. She kicks ass.

I feel this week, now. And tomorrow is run day. I remember this feeling... and I love it and hate it all at the same time.

Imagine what Ron Reagan might say about it...

You're in Luck; I Speak 'Asshole.'

"Don't be yourself - be someone a little nicer."

~Mignon McLaughlin, The Second Neurotic's Notebook, 1966

Some days more than others I realize I am not a "nice" person. I realize in the same instant that the statement preceding is just the kind of sweeping generalization that I detest with a fiery passion. However I am growing to believe I need a serious change of character.

Case in point #1:
I read Jan's blog this morning and finally, after fighting back a number of tears remembering with fondness and heartache our beautiful adventure in Europe this past summer, got to her recollection of our meal in the square in Brussels, the final night of being in Europe.

Here is the difference between a nice (my wife) person and myself. Go read Jan's blog about this situation, then come back and read the following.

We sat there, trying as hard as humanly possible to treat this, our last evening in this beautiful country full of beautiful people and now wonderful memories, like any other fun evening out in Europe. But the fact of the matter was we could NOT seriously delude ourselves completely. We enjoyed speaking, oddly enough, with another American couple who were traveling. We sat for a long time after we finished, talking and just enjoying ourselves. We had not ordered anything for some time, which in Europe we had found was never an issue. In the U.S., the wait-staff are relying on tips for a large part of their income, and therefore want the table to be ordering or make way for another table. Jan and I are increasingly fond, as we age, of drawing out our evenings at dinner into the long hours of the night talking and reminiscing or thinking out-loud together. And, we found, this enjoyment is well received in Europe, where you are allowed to linger virtually until they close the restaurant without ordering anything after dinner, just sitting and talking. And here we were, our final evening, in French speaking Brussels, doing just that for the very last time this trip. And this is where Jan's version of the story, and MY version of the story, diverge.

The waiter came to us, we did not summon the waiter. He came to our table and put the check down in front of me, pointed to the total owed. I said thank you and resumed my conversation, expecting him to leave.

He coughed, and said "No, you pay now."

There was no please. There was no courtesy. It was a demand. I bristled and felt hugely uncomfortable in this very public setting with other Americans who were experienced travelers nearby.


"Ok, here is a Visa." I said, trying to sound calm, at ease. I was nervous. I do not appreciate the manner with which the waiter was putting me on the spot.

"No," he said again, now pointing at the amount on the reciept, "you pay cash. We only take cash."

I forget how we covered the bill, but we covered it. Jan went in to use the restroom and I followed her in. I was fuming, still, and it was about to get worse. I glanced back toward the door and indeed saw the sticker clearly posted in the window that shows the VISA, MASTERCARD, DISCOVER logos.

I purposefully calmed myself and turned to the bartender who smiled and greeted me. I asked him if I could pay with Visa.

He looked at me as if I were crazy and said "of course, monsieur."

At that perfect moment the waiter had just come in and was standing nearby. I looked to him and said right at him "Excuse me..."
He said something in French. "Sorry, do you speak English?" He gave me a mean look and nodded."Hey, I see that the sticker in the window says you take visa, why did I have to pay cash?"

"No, we do not take visa."

Even more perfectly, the bartender turned to his coworker and saidin ENGLISH, "Yes we do, what do you mean?"

I looked again at the waiter, who was visibly angry at me, and I said "Why did I have to pay cash?" I understood and understand the futility of this, but I was angry, humiliated, and thought I could make my point better.

To my surprise the waiter rattled something off in French. The bartender even shook his head and walked away!! I assume it must have been an insult directed towards me.

"What?" I asked the waiter.

"Maybe you should learn French."

There is angry, and then there is RAGE. And THEN there is how I felt at that instant. I can not find adequate descriptors.


I said "Shut up, you stupid fuck!" But I said it in SWEDISH.

"What?" Said the dumbfounded waiter, who was obviously surprised I could speak something other than 'American.'

My moment of victory had arrived, at last.

"Maybe you should learn Swedish, I said with a BIG smile." I won. Checkmate.

Jan came up and he pointed to the door. "You go, now."

I am just not that nice.Oh well.

I Am GarlicMan...

"You've got to spend some serious time training because you're going to spend some serious time racing."

~Jan Howard

I know it's an Ironman year because I spend 6 days a week training.

I know it's an Ironman year because people are avoiding conversations with me, knowing full well its always going to come back around to, well, Ironman.

I know it's an Ironman year because my bike toys are piling up already and its only January.

I know it's an Ironman year because I am graduating with my PhD and the ceremony is in June and the first thing I think is its going to interfere with my taper.

Finally,

I know it's an Ironman year because I smell Garlic all the time, emanating from my skin, my breath, heck, even my hair.

I just completed the first full week of training. Its not momentous, seeing as it was only the first week and I planned it to be purposefully uneventful. If I can make it consistent that's the best result possible. And consistent it was. I did not escape unscathed, however. My neck is hurting (I DID crack the "Ironman is a pain in the neck" line this evening, to which I received a chorus of BOOO!) because I seem to have strained some obscure little muscle with a very strange name that sounds more like it should connect my eyelid to my scalp, and yet is debilitating. For that there is hydrocodone...

The first week is behind and I made progress. Not as difficult as I expected, but we did not bite off too much hard stuff, either. I feel as though I am in better shape, as well... which might be because I have raced much more before in the last two years than I did before Ironman 2007. I am entering this year well prepared, mentally. I am now familiar with the requirements. All of the above.

Always in my head I have this number... and its not random, there are reasons for it. I finished Ironman 2007 in 12 hours 44 minutes, and felt ridiculously happy at the end, and remarkably healthy. This time its a different beast, a very very very scary proposition.


10:40:00


Think it.
Plan it.
Train it.
Believe it.
Race it.

A Pilgrim in an Unholy Land.

"We grow neither better or worse as we get old, but more like ourselves."

~ May L. Becker






We stepped out onto the platform before the track encircling the upper-most floor of the elaborate IntraMural Athletic center at UW. On the readerboard ahead and above, arrows flashed the direction in which the track was to be run upon, pointing towards our left. We dutifully obliged and looked to our right, as one would do before crossing a street. Very responsible and very, well, rigid, we stepped out.

And then jumped against the wall.

Gasp.

An army of semi-belligerent college co-eds blitzed towards us, ponytails and patchy pubescent whiskers flying everywhere. One after another dozens of what I swore were 14-year-olds, in all shapes and sizes (though most seemed anorexic and maybe 100 pounds soaking wet--including the guys) bounded and clomped towards us in strides of varying degrees of awkwardness. All looking very resentful of our middle aged selves. The girls all wearing shorts that looked a little to low and short. Guys, well, looking like guys. And smelling like guys.

We waited and watched in some sort of convalescent, pathetic stupor while our age became an ugly truth. Jan and I shook our heads and started walking towards the cardio equipment to warm up.

Creak. Creak. Snap. "Ow."

Its like fishing.
"Wow--a 40-pounder just smacked into me and tumbled across the deck, I think."
"That's a big one. Can we keep it?"



It happens right under our very snouts. We become "those old people". As teenagers we look up to early 20-somethings as gods. 24 year olds? Super humans. They have their own bills, their own jobs, school only by choice, bar experience... 28 year olds? OLD. At least it used to be. But I think the blurry age barrier is even blurrier now, fortunately for the 40 year old male crowd.

31-year-olds? A gnats eyelash away from being the age of their parents. DREADFULLY OLD. Old enough to make fun of but not old enough to take seriously. Well, that is unless you are rich and can drink your weight in jello-shots, all after doing a dead-on impression of... wait, who are the popular musicians these days?

I wonder when it happens. When did I grow up? And when will I feel grown up?

I need some coffee.

Where is the Ibuprofen and Icy-Hot??

Crap, it happened.

In the Beginning...

“Beginning is easy - continuing hard”
~Japanese Proverb





Ironman 2009 training has begun.

Ironman CDA 2009 is on June 21st. Today is Thursday, January 8th. There is a little over 5 months left of training.

Over the next 5 months there will be approximately:
-180,000 yards swam in the pool (approximately 102 miles)
-1,200 miles ridden on the bike(s)
-600 miles ran

Including weight lifting.

Not to mention the approximately 850,000 calories consumed. And that's just by me.

Today I feel invigorated, hungry (because of the two-day fast I just completed, a good way to get my diet and eating habits in order at the beginning of training), and excited about the transformation I will achieve in the coming weeks and months. I am excited about the places I will ride my bike, regardless of how wet I become. See Jan's blog for some history on this statement.

The next 5 months are about consistency, forward progress and positive thinking. The next 5 months is about training my mind as much as training my body.

With Ironman training and physical preparation comes preparation of the spirit--they are really inseparable. I have the knowledge that I have been there and done that before, probably my best asset heading into this; it is no longer the great unknown. I hear this drum beating, calling me to push harder... But at the same instant I am trying to remember that overconfidence has beaten me before. I am both my greatest supporter and my greatest enemy.

My spirit remembers the finish line, but it also remembers the start line. Which had a more powerful impact on me? The former was elation and endorphin and success. The latter was pure, unadulterated, cold-wind-waves fear. It's a good question that is shaping the way I am approaching this year's test, and one I have been considering privately long before now. The truth is the fear of the beginning and the overwhelming sense of accomplishment at the end are equal motivators for me. And I know I control both.

Ironman is unique. The physical aspect of the race itself is something we train for and is completely within the realm of possible. What could kill the most capable person is the unknown, the challenges which arise unexpectedly be it mental or physical, and not knowing how to handle it. So as much as we control the controllable, we as Ironman athletes have to prepare for the uncontrollable--and controlling our responses to that.


Ironman is June 21st. Today is January 8th.

Determine your plan.

Train your plan.

Race your plan.

And deal with the bullshit along the way.

And it helps to have a good training partner and spouse.

Cheers.

Waxing Pol-sophical

"The trouble with America is that there are far too many wide-open spaces surrounded by teeth."

~Charles Luckman








I ask myself one question since going to Europe more than any:

What kind of freedom do you like?

This is followed closely with another question:

How much change can you handle?

Like anything, I suppose, I can make this as complex as I have time for. Truthfully, in my mind, it comes down to a simple decision. European freedom or American freedom? I don’t know any other to choose from, so those are what I can think about. And they are similar enough yet different enough in the areas I consider most important that as a result it is worthwhile to consider.

European freedom comes with limitations as does American freedom. The difference between the two seems, at first glance, to be one of perspective. But really, when I consider it more carefully, I think it’s only a difference resulting from leadership, historical choices and practicality. Not a greater moral understanding.

I am initially inclined to think that the Europeans are better than the Americans; that Europeans live the way they live out of a greater sense of self as a part of a whole: A sense of community. I am inclined to believe they make the choices they do solely out of a sense of moral obligation as opposed to self-fulfilling need for consumption, which would be the “American Way”. This was my modality while I was in Europe and I held it mostly until the last couple of weeks -- when I felt a shift in my thinking.

In all honesty I did not feel completely “right” in this rationale for why Europe is the way it is. I liked the idea that Europeans did what they did because they were better. It’s kind of fashionable to like Europe this way. This greater-sense-of-good theory seemed like a nice explanation and made me feel more valid in my dreams of moving there. After returning here, to the US, and living with a new perspective in my old lifestyle, I have had the obligation to rethink this philosophy and it has led to some important changes.

First and foremost, Europeans are no different than Americans are no different than Chinese are no different than Africans, etc. Humans will forever be driven by fundamental needs, requirements and tendencies at their basic, primitive level. I do not need to get into those specifics; I think we are all well aware of what drives humans. Altruism aside, we need to survive. Above that basic level I believe we are subject to forces that transcend the humanistic label of “ethnicity”. It has conditioning and history at its core. “What are you used to?”

Second, Europe is older and more mature than the USA. With respect to the attitudes of a country, I believe it is much like a developing person as an individual. An individual who is 80 and has been through several wars—both losses and victories, lost its family due to disease, traveled by foot for much of its life and had friends come and go will probably have a much different perspective than a 15 year old who was put into a nice neighborhood, given a car with gas and insurance, never seen death (or life, really) and did not witness the creation of a family. The former will have reverence for history and the things that have stood the test of time. The latter will look with impatience upon everything that the former respects, if only for the sake of being impudent. History is not respected by those who do not understand it, and those who do not understand it are usually those who do not know it.

Further, if you lived through two world wars and the industrial revolution you probably respect those things that brought about your survival and success in times like the great depression and the Jewish holocaust a lot more than iPods, having your own car, and what the shirt on your back looks like. And so it is with Europe and the USA. Europe is well traveled and 80, the USA is pampered and 15. It is not a viable comparison when dissecting the values and perspectives of the two based on historical “presence”. I am not using this as an excuse for choices; one merely has only to look at any country such as France or England and see that it, too, has been the USA more than once in its history.

This is also in no way saying that Europe is above consumerism. In fact, I argue that they are more steeped in consumption that Americans. The priority of what to spend money on is merely different. The difference lies in what they are consuming and the global implications of this. I can see, now, that the challenges of the present are the lens through which we judge the validity and philosophy of consumerism by a country and its people.

But back to the point: The maturity of Europe and the USA. Europe thrives within its history; it’s a maturity that comes from experience. There appears to be a sense of obligation to maintain some or all of the layers upon layers of personality derived from the mixing of histories and people over time that created some of the places I was fortunate enough to see. In the USA we are swamped with the idea of progress and NEW and FUTURE. We do not have a history to protect and admire, or so we are taught. Old buildings come down because they are ugly or can’t hold enough stuff or people. The fear of earthquake and death draws new building codes and architectural standards instead of learning to make-do with what was there. Certainly some things are warranted for human safety.

Now, walk three blocks in Amsterdam and then walk three blocks in Seattle. Count how many original ANYTHINGS remain in Seattle vs. Amsterdam. Our original caucasion history is barely 200 years old. Before the white man invaded the natives had their own rich history which has all but been exterminated.

Stand in the way of American progress and you might just be wiped out--whether architectural, cultural or financial.

To be continued…

Dr. Lemmings

“Win as if you were used to it, lose as if you enjoyed it for a change.”

~Ralph Waldo Emerson




The triathlon season is over, officially. No more triathlons. In fact, the season is so over I have been taking time off from any training whatsoever for the past 2 weeks. (Aside--its weird to be writing this as if I am writing to an audience, when in reality there is NO audience, but I will write anyway.) So now that its been two weeks with no training other than sailing related activity, I am itching to get back to it. Funny how that works.

I felt tired this year. I felt like everything was more difficult than it should be. I wonder if thats because of age? I doubt it. I think 2 years ago I felt the impact of age, but not this year. Perhaps after doing essentially 4 marathons last year including Ironman and the hardest timed marathon on Kilauea I just overdid it. I never really recovered. Maybe everything is just more difficult. That, actually, while ambiguous and rather dreary sounding, is what I believe is the truth.

Everything feels more difficult. Stress has been so high for so long--I sometimes don't know if I remember what it feels like to NOT be experiencing high amounts of stress. School has created a new threshold of stress, and, as in the drawing above, I follow that degree wherever it takes me--even off a cliff. Thats what my advisor and this faculty wants created--a little Dr. Lemming following the carrot they dangle in front of me.







Yes, thats a PhD being tossed just over the head of our hero, there... but fortunately he is so numb to any fear or stress that he just dives headlong over whatever is in his way to get that fucking degree. Sweet.

And, as a result, I have this plan. (Drum roll.)
I am going to work my ass off at school and get as much done as I possibly can until my General exam, which will hopefully land somewhere in December, maybe January. Then I can focus a little more on feeling good during the spring leading up to Ironman. I want to see if I can minimize the stress during training that is not training related.

I have a goal for that little endeavor, and I want to focus on it without feeling like I am sacrificing my school goals. Ultimately, school rules all for me, until I graduate. Its the ultimate goal to get my Phd in the correct amount of time and I really need to devote the necessary attention to it and get it done right.

The sad thing is, as I go along, it feels like I am getting farther and farther from all of the really important kinetics I learned. Its like learning a new language--if you don't use it, you lose it. The real downfall of this program is that we are expected to produce a complete package when we graduate. We design our experiments, we make everything we need for those experiments and then we run the experiments. Then at the end we analyze and write-up and present our data. The really important part for those of us going into industry is the analysis and presentation. The experimental design is also equally important.

But here is what every graduate student and scientist knows, and that I know also, now: The most time consuming and overall exhausting part of all this is the MAKING the things you need for your experiment and then doing the work. The analysis and writing and presentation is such a small piece that you work on it, you focus, and then BOOM its over. What I wish we had was more opportunity to practice analysis. Then, next spring--hopefully my last spring EVER in this wretched place, I could at least feel some peace going into Ironman season that I have the skillset I need. Instead, I already feel this big gray cloud looming over the horizon. This cloud is getting closer and closer, and larger and more menacing. The cloud is the realization that I have a lot of work to do to recapture the really important kinetic background I worked so hard to obtain in the first place. And I can already see the competition between training and school that could happen.

Therefore, I will do what I can to get that done BEFORE training starts.

I will train happy. I will train strong. I will train without the cloud following me around. I will break 11 hours. I will feel good at the end of Ironman, and I will finish with the knowledge that I didn't sacrifice anything school related to get there.

That PhD being flung off the cliff is just a bad dream. Its not the PhD I am getting, its a fake. My degree is waiting for me, safe and sound. All I have to do is grab it.