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.

Avalanche.

“Love me when I least deserve it, because that's when I really need it.”

~Swedish Proverb



The caption to this picture might be:

Work can be such a bear. A huge bear biting your head off.

The load has fallen and is rushing toward you at increasing speed. The roar is thunderous, but sneaky. Sometimes you can hear it coming before you ever see it, and still not have any chance of getting out of the way. Other times you never know it is there until its too late. The sun disappears, the oxygen thins and you count the moments one by one.

Work overload. Followed quickly by burn-out.

Everything happens for a reason. Even work overload. The situation is usually easier to accept and understand once you are beyond the "thing" that must occur... that's a cryptic way to look at life, but its true. When you are going through hell, keep going.

Hindsight is good medicine, and the foresight to know that the hindsight is waiting is called wisdom. It can be enough to get you through at times. But like the cup I just poured hot tea in, the theory starts soundly enough, and sturdy enough, but in time the leak begins and the integrity starts to fail. The ability to remember that there is a good reason for the approach to burn-out is difficult at best. The ability to keep the faith that all of this adds up to something is at times heroic. Other times impossible.

I feel ultimately responsible for the amount of work I have to do. I have probably not used my time as well as I should have, and I vividly remember hiding from a couple of the things I am charged with doing. Such as approximately 650 gene expression assays. Okay, its actually 672.

But who is counting.

PICTURES!!!

If you would like to see Lake Stevens Half Ironman pictures
Click Here



If you would like to see Lake Padden Pictures and read Jan's race report:
Click Here

Hope you enjoy them!

Beer Thirty?

Not that I drink this much, but some mornings, like this, its tempting.







"Who taught you those new tricks?
Damn, I shouldn't start that talk,
but life is one big question when you're starin' at the clock.
And the answers always waiting at the liquor store,
40 oz to Freedom,
so I'll take that walk."

~40 oz to Freedom, Sublime


40 oz Archive

And just because its that kind of a day, here are some freebies for you:
Free Ringtones

Be Sciency.

"Science is a wonderful thing if one does not have to earn one's living at it."
~Albert Einstein





Today is a busy science day:

1) Remove smelly bacteria cultures getting smellier overnight containing hopefully mCnt2 transporter inserted in LNCX2 plasmid from the shaker and isolate plasmid DNA from the bacteria using miniprep kit. Ooooh, kits are nice.

2) Run a PCR for mCnt2 to check that the colonies are positive for carrying the stupid transporter insert.

2.5) Pull out hair, play free pacman online (www.freepacman.org)

3) Apply antibodies to western blot membrane for mouse Cnt2 and mouse Ent1 using really expensive yellowish liquid to make funny little marks that I can only see on this really expensive scanner and claim its meaningful...

4) Make an agarose gel for wasting the PCR products. Run gel and check results. Swear and make foul face when the gel breaks and falls on floor. Update colony chart to reflect mouse genotypes. Plan to kill mice.

5) Get 1 mEnt1 (-/-) mouse for coworker. Complain that I don't have help with mouse colony.

6-11) Meet with boss.

So sciency.

It doesnt sound like much, right? Ha.

Sight of First Love

"Love at first sight is easy to understand; it's when two people have been looking at each other for a lifetime that it becomes a miracle."
~Amy Bloom





I woke up and saw you sleeping in the morning light and felt your cheek. Warm like sleep and soft like the morning glow. I held that image as I got on the bus among the people and faces I do not know and never will know me. I remembered the sound of your breathing as I pet the dog and walked into my day.

I drive home and the fumes and clutter of life fill my car. Honking. "What the fuck was that??!" The large black woman yells at the asian couple in a large, American rental that just cut her off. Tension. Heat. I remember your smile in the cool morning water. The feel of your hand in the waves. The noise blur together but underneath is the steady rhythm of your constant, silent forgiveness.

The door opens with a beep and the smell of the rodents in their small ventilated micro-isolator cages is overwhelming. My senses seize as the air feels slow and hot. The sterility of the walls and floor. The sounds of lives, little lives, scratching. Anxiety and desperation. Your laughter over wine on the deck with my family. The way you grab an extra cookie for me without even having to ask. Refreshing feel of wind and smell of forest.

Surrounded, by life. But you still are there.

Lake Stevens Ironman 70.3

"It's kind of fun to do the impossible."

~ Walt Disney




Sunday, July 6th was the Ironman 70.3 in Lake Stevens.

-------Total----Swim---T1-----Bike-----T2----Run

5:14:57

34:01

2:40

2:57:47

2:03

1:38:2

I got finished with this race and was slightly disappointed in my bike time. However, I thought about everything that happened and now, instead of feeling bad about that, I feel GREAT about my other two times. For a recap... My friend Brian Kirby and I did this race together. I don't know that he trained much specifically for it, besides a few pool swims, but he has run and biked a fair amount so I knew he could finish fine. As we strolled out onto the dock where the swim start was, at the far north-east corner of Lake Stevens, I was more nervous about myself. Not whether I would finish, but whether I could reach yet another lofty goal: breaking 5 hours for the 3rd time. This was my 7th half, and I have ranged from 4:48 to 5:35. Oddly enough my fastest half time came at the well known and well feared Pacific Crest--not known, as you triathletes from the NW might imagine, for being a PR course. But although I know not to go too hard at this distance before halfway through the run, I still have trouble gauging my output during the bike ride. This year my bike training really wasn't bad, but didn't have the distance I would normally like. Then again, the year after training for Ironman, everything seems minimal.


The early morning: where are my honey buckets?

Brian showed up to ride with Mr. and Mrs. Triathlon at 4:45 ish, and we all piled into my Element for the drive to Lake Stevens. It was a nice morning, very relaxed. Maybe too relaxed.

I have always been the person who wants to arrive early at triathlons. It is bred, I suppose, from all of my early years of racing when the transition areas were first-come first-serve, hence getting there early was necessary if you were actually competing. The morning of this particular race, however, I was not so uptight about the time. I figured its a well organized, major race much like Ironman. Our bikes were put in transition the day before--maybe for that reason I thought we could get there a mere hour before the start? In retrospect, that line of thinking was dumb. The transition area closed at 6:15, our start time was 6:37, and we arrived at 5:35. In between was madness.

Lake Stevens 70.3 is NOT run like an Ironman. Not even close. Its like trailer trash in new shoes. Don't get me wrong, it was a nice race. But wearing the Ironman label, even for a half IM, should indicate the level of quality in the organization. That was not the case.

They did work hard, but the race morning strategy of dump your crap, warm up, dookie, stretch, start did not apply at all. There were multiple stops one had to make -- too few (as in 2) bathrooms in the transition area. No bike exit for warming up. We had to collect our timing chips at the SWIM START, which was nearly hidden from view. Then transition closed so make sure you have the right gear, that you don't crap your wetsuit and off with ya!

Brian and I fumbled around and got the order of events as backwards as possible. Everything I had told him about getting ready for the race went out the window as we scurried around in what felt like a pre-race scavenger hunt.

I finally found my pretty bride and gave her the car keys and told her to meet us at the start area, because they were booting us out of transition. Ugh. Too much stress and it was not even about the race. It was about when will I get to use a bathroom? Finally, finally, we get to the pottie line and make things right. Aaaah...

Why ya swimmin' in the poopy water, lads?

I don't know when it started really getting to me, but at some point during the swim I realized the water tasted eerily like... sewage. Ack, it makes me feel sick to my stomach just remembering it. Yes, I remember getting about a hundred yards out, and distinctly feeling like something was not right. Every time I breathed I smelled it. I tasted it. It was wretched. It disappeared, though, about 400 yards out. Aaah, non-sewage tainted water never felt so good. I sped up. I had left Brian long ago, and I wondered how he was doing. I was reeling in a lot of the wave which had left before mine--we were in orange caps, the wave in front of us navy, the wave behind red. I passed probably 15 navy caps before the turn, and then really stepped on the accelerator as I saw a frothing mess of angry red caps swirling in my direction. I stayed in front of most of the red caps (there were some guys with rooster tails going by, though) and actually found an opportune moment at my fingertips (literally) when I latched onto a red capper going a tad faster than I was. I pushed and got on his toes and passed probably 10 more blue caps, at least. There were not many orange caps around. I felt better, and was really moving well. I thought I might be around 30 minutes for my swim.

Then I tasted the poop. Oh god, my stomach turned and did a half-gainer. I was entering hell again, and the smell of sewage returned with the taste. I felt sick again and couldn't stay with ol' red cap and fell off. So much for my time. Was any one else tasting this? (Yes, I would find out later.)

Finally I arrived on shore. It was not as disorienting as Ironman, but for some reason I was kinda wobbly. Been a while since I swam that fast for that long. Ironman was more of just pure survival. This was actually a pretty decent swim, given the stankiness of the water. 34 minutes. Not too bad. Tummy really upset, though--not a great way to start. I jogged across the cobbly parking lot which hurt my feet (I had to run about 300 yards to my bike) and started thinking about how I am doing. Really, besides the tum-tum, I am fine. I feel good, and I am out of the water before all the people around me in transition. I notice out of the far left corner of my eye that all of their girlfriends/wives were standing there silently at the fence nearby waiting for their athletes. Silent. All of those guys had these really fancy, hot, carbon, sleek looking new bikes. I remember feeling 10 years late for the prom when we took our bikes into transition, and the girlfriends/wives standing around then beaming with pride. Hmm, so a fancy bike doesn't always mean the faster triathlete??? I knew that. But the reminder was nice.

Had the passing thought, though, that maybe I messed up the course or something--historically I am an average swimmer. Lately, my swimming has improved relatively speaking, and its a little startling sometimes.

When the going gets tough, check your brakes.

I fumbled through a very sloppy transition. It was obvious to all watching that I was not in the world's biggest hurry. I dropped things fumbling around in the pocket of my tri-shirt, had trouble getting my bike off the rack. It was comical. In the past I have learned that taking a moment longer in transition in these longer races can make a big, big difference later on. We will see.

My stomach upset as could be I set out on my bike. It took about 300 yards for me to feel like I was pedaling way too hard. I felt terrible. My legs were cooked, but that was impossible. I hadn't done anything to work my legs. I really didn't understand what was going on. I finally pulled over 4 miles into the thing and found the obvious--my rear brake caliper was twisted over and pressing onto my rear wheel. Well, sheesh. No wonder. The guy next to me in transition, one of the ones with the fans standing silently watching me in transition, kept banging into my stuff earlier in the morning. I bet his bike or something else whacked my brakes. Now I made it my personal mission to beat this guy. I will save the suspense: Yes, I beat him.

Brakes fixed, off I go. Now the bike ride should feel easy, right? Well, queasy is more like it. I couldnt eat or drink or ride hard until about mile 25 or 26 when my stomach FINALLY felt normal. I finally felt like I was ready to bike ride. What a difference that makes. I think I felt pretty decent the entire rest of the day as far as my stomach goes. I ate a couple gels and drank some and that was a huge comfort. I was concerned that the heat might come up at any time, even if it was currently cool and cloudy. THAT was a blessing.

I believe the first 26 miles I averaged a pedestrian 16 mph. The blur of fast bikers going by me, as usual, was equally as irritating as the brake pressing thing, but I have learned so many times to LET THEM GO. They usually can't run. If they could, after riding that fast, they would have been in the elite wave. And these guys were "off-the-hook" fast.

Sure enough, I torched the second half of the bike ride. The backside of the course is very hilly but nothing extreme. Its rollers with some AWESOME descents and some nice little turns. Also on the backside is a long straightaway with a tailwind during the race. It was a nice 10 mile stretch of 24 mile an hour aero riding. Sweetness. I passed many people whom had passed me eariler. It was once again proof of my belief in taking it easy and being steady instead of crushing the first half of the bike ride and surviving the rest of the race. I always try to remember there is a long run waiting, as well. I felt good the last 1o miles, but tired. The course changed from what we thought the course was, when Brian, Jan and I had come out and ridden before. They removed a part near the lake and turned it into a lollipop style course with a short out section at the end of which you do two big loops, then take that little short section back to town. Not spectator friendly at all. That little 5 mile out section was also very hilly and had some irritating winds on the way back in to town. My legs were tired. I was feeling good, but I felt a little bit concerned about how much I spent on the second lap of the ride.

I wheeled through town and surprised Jan, hoping to get a good pic, walking along. She wasn't ready and I watched her calculate and finally decide she couldn't get her mammoth camera ready in time, and instead started screaming cheers at me. She is so damned cute. I don't know what I would do without her. I turned that wonderful final corner and got my shoes unbuckled and pulled my feet out. I was so ready to be done with the bike ride at this point, I was excited about running.

Running is fun. Running fast for 13 miles and long hills is hard.

I love running. When I get off the bike and I am standing there at my transition spot, I love the feeling of being pretty good at something and knowing that although I had a tough bike ride, I can still count on a great half marathon. And then I actually start running and remember that I am closer to giraffe than runner in physiology. And giraffe-like is exactly how it felt to start. This was not Ironman, I was not merely trying to finish, I was aiming for a serious time. I needed to get out and take as little time as possible to feel my groove and loosen up. And boy was that difficult. I forced myself into a quick, but easy, pace the first couple miles. I took a potty break and told myself that when I got out I was going to slowly build the rest of this run.

It started getting warm for the first time. The sun was out, and it felt very good. I like racing hotter temps, personally. The aid stations are there and had plenty of everything, but usually during the run how well you started the day hydrated as well as how well you hydrated during the bike ride play a bigger role. If you have to drink a lot early in the run, well, its too late. Should of taken care of business earlier.

I was passed by a woman who didnt seem too much different than me in age, and was only slightly running faster. I decided to keep her in my sights as a gauge. I figured she was doing about 7:40 per mile or so. She pulled away a little, and I found myself struggling to hold that pace. The run has a figure eight kind of thing where you run out one loop which is NOT flat but is misleading in that its long slow uphill drains you and the long slow downhill rests you. I didn't figure out that was why I felt so up and down until the second lap. Going down the long easy downhill of the first half of the first loop I gained some speed and caught up to a different group, still keeping my eye out for my pacer. I held my speed through town, delighted by the screaming of Jan, Amber and Joe cheering me on. When we passed through downtown and came to the long, scary hill I tried to shorten my stride but maintain speed. For the most part it worked and I passed throngs of decent runners succumbing to the heat and hill. I caught up to the woman and stayed with her the rest of the run. Found out later her name was Jennifer and she was cheering on so many people as she ran it was ridiculous how much energy she had. Or seemed to have.

I saw Brian as I was finishing up my first lap, he had just come through downtown and looked good. Tired, but good. He had a really fine first Half IM. I decided to pick up my tempo a little the rest of the way. It was a very difficult second lap, and I saw a lot of familiar faces finishing and heading out. Its a benefit to a multilap course like this--you get to see people often and it doesnt feel so isolated. It was really amazing just how many people there were out there. Just because they wanted to. Mostly the second lap is a blur. I had been running as fast as I could and was very tired. My legs felt pretty heavy but I maintained a quick pace into downtown for the last time. Jan one the side of the road yelling at me to "RUN FASTER, BOY!" so I do. I take off as fast as I possibly can to the finish. I would be lying if I said I wasn't disappointed with my time, but I would be equally lying to say I wasn't happy to have worked through some issues and still have a great run.

All in all, it was a fun day. Racing is always fun; the circumstances that create the challenge are always different and will always be the unexpected part of being a triathlete. I ate way too much pizza after the race and got a very upset tummy for pretty much the rest of the day. Hurt like crazy. I can't blame it on the swim, though.

Become Triathlete Heart

"Training is what you are doing while your opponent is sleeping in."

~Brian Owen





Triathletes, take heart.

Look to your left and right, and take note of the people you see. Are they like you? Do they shave their legs in anticipation of a race? Do they not only strive for greatness in one sport but in three all at once? Can they swim farther than anyone you know, bike farther than anyone you know, and run farther than anyone you know---in the same day?

You are a triathlete. That makes you different for a lot of reasons.

One difference is your heart. Your heart, as a result of training, is able to provide your body with more blood per heartbeat than the people you see to your left and right who are not triathletes (and given they are not freaks of nature, cross country skiers or rowers). This results in an ECG which you see above. This is my Ecg.

Triathlon induced characteristics include the low heart rate (BPM = 42), otherwise known as bradycardia, and abnormal voltages. These are indicators that you heart, and really your entire body, has, over time from training volume year after year, become a very efficient beast. It sucks the oxygen out of your blood at astonishingly efficient levels. Your heart has more voltage for a more solid beat and stroke. Your heart is strong enough to push blood around your entire body such that it beats less times per minute than other peoples hearts.

Triathletes, take heart. Because of your lifestyle choice, you most likely have lower circulating triglyceride levels, lower overall body fat percentage, and blood glucose that is well controlled. And as a result of these things, the chances of having one of the now typical American ailments is vastly reduced.

But be careful, you might be called obsessed, weird, crazy, or worse. Just look at the people calling you these things and feel bad for them. Count to 10 and realize in that time span, their hearts had to beat almost twice as many times as yours did to keep them conscious.

Pay Attention

"Look, I get it; you come home, you work hard, and you turn on your TV... You kind of want to escape a little bit and be taken away by something. Our show required you to pay attention, and if that's not what you wanted to do, then it wasn't going to be for you, and that's OK."

~Will Arnett

How well do you pay attention?
How do you know if you aren't paying good enough attention, if you aren't paying attention to your attention span long enough to know? You know?

I find myself more and more distracted lately. So many deadlines, so many important things, so many fun things--all of them seem to demand my attention. There is a limit to how much I can do in a given unit of time, and generally I will get diminishing quality the more I try to pack into each of those units. Why is it so hard to stay focused on the priority? I have X to get done by the end of today. I A, B, and C which are due some other time. Why do I let the completion and execution of X be muddled by A, B, and C even though they aren't required at the moment?

Its more basic than a work list, though. Its every day life objects. I need to do a certain number of things every day, and mostly I can complete these things on auto-pilot. However, I have a certain number of things I want or need to do each day on top of that daily list, and these things require much prioritization. There are people and things I have to take care of which require attention. But maybe there is a finite amount of attention that can be given?

Additionally, how much can I really accomplish WELL if I am not fully immersed in it. I believe I surely can't get the most out of my life this way. Perhaps its another side-effect of graduate school...maybe its getting older. I don't know.

For now, enjoy this. But pay attention.

Awareness Test

The future is now... no, now....no, now....

“My interest is in the future because I am going to spend the rest of my life there”

~Charles F. Kettering

In the future we will have better balance.











This blog makes me feel like the world's biggest underachiever.

davesbikeblog

Huh?
Um, yeah