Hope

So……………. IM Wisconsin. I had been struggling in August with some leg pain. I didn’t know what it was. I thought it was an issue with my IT Band but it wasn’t. It turned out to be a back issue. There was a part of me that already knew this to be true. I had undergone back surgery about ten years ago and the symptoms were all too familiar. Needless to say, I did not make it to Wisconsin. Instead, I spent a long weekend in Vegas submerging my sorrows in vodka and the European pool at the Wynn.

It has taken about 6 months to accept the reality of the situation. It won’t go away on its own. Voodoo (even though I tried) won’t work. No stretching will fix it and no words will mitigate the impact. Surgery is my only option and I accept this fate for the second time.

Two days ago, I went to meet with the surgeon, Dr. Schwartz. I never expected to meet a doctor like him. I had been told that I would never run again. I had tried to swim but cannot properly rotate. The bike seemed totally ridiculous. Dr. Schwartz understood. He knew that I couldn’t be whole again without recapturing what I thought I was before this happened. He said you won’t be happy until you are able to run again. Dr. Schwartz said to expect a full recover. For the first time in forever, I cried.

I don’t think I even knew how important it was to me. Over the last 20 plus years, I have held a series of professional jobs (sometimes) that I have held an increasing level of apathy. The more my career has disappointed me, the more I have embraced the definition of myself created outside my 40 hour week. That definition has included father, husband, and triathlete.

I accept the fact that I am mediocre at all three. I cannot accept that I would have a leg of the tripod removed. Dr. Schwartz has given me hope and for now, that’s good enough.

I had thought that this blog would be about my road to Wisconsin. In many ways, I wish it had. However, I am even more excited about the road ahead. The challenge will be fresh and even more intense. I don’t know if I will make it back to Ironman. It could happen and if God will allow it, I will do my best to make it happen. If not, I will do the best I can with the body I have. To be continued…………

True Grit

Last weekend I spent time with Terry.  Terry was born drinking Tobasco from a bottle and crawling over broken glass.  If his tales held an ounce of truth, he set the bar for machismo at an all time high.  Terry galvanized his spine as a deputy sheriff in the deep south.  He gave to his community while simultaneously ridding the planet of meth addicts.  Terry can weave a tale of heroics quicker than a Charlestonian can weave a sweetgrass basket.

Terry told me stories which had me scratching my head while at the same time wondering what was coming around the corner.  Admittedly, there were times during Terry’s anecdotes which warranted a moderate dose of Starbucks.   However, Terry captivated my interest when he began discussing the apparent injury to his leg.

Terry’s leg had been immobilized by a medically provided boot.  The boot enabled him to walk but his limp provided a clear indication that he was not in the final stages of recovery.  My lack of inquisitive restraint fueled by Terry’s verbosity opened the floodgates to another detailed account of what had happened and what was yet to happen.

Terry began by telling me about his background.  He had been a runner dating back to the 1970’s.  He shared multiple stories about runs that he had been on and the things that he had seen.  One story included being hit by a bolt of lightening while on a 20 mile run with some friends.  Not surprisingly, Terry (after regaining consciousness)  was able to complete the run as they had no other means of transportation.  He claimed to have been burned and a bit shaken up but otherwise okay.  Obviously, it is easy to roll your eyes and focus on the nature of the embellishment rather than the story.  I think it’s more fun to listen to the story with the wild eyed amazement of a child.  I realize that the truth has been distorted if not completely fabricated.  However, Terry told his stories with such a heightened level of conviction that it was impossible to avoid being captivated by his passion regardless of the delusive measure.

The next leg of the yarn took me to the events which concluded with the broken leg.  Apparently, Terry is quite the accomplished hunter.  He boasted about killing over 20 white tailed deer in a single year.  This seemed like a bizarre thing to brag about but only because I could never see myself killing one let alone 20.  I am not necessarily opposed to hunting but just don’t have that killer instinct.

While hunting in a tree stand one day in an effort to augment his freezer stocked with over 1000 pounds of animal flesh, Terry fell from his perch.  The safety line did not prevent his fall and left him on the ground bleeding rapidly with six compound fractures which had broken through the skin.  Terry had the self control to contact friends in law enforcement and first response who would be able to come to his aid.  Terry waited for a rescue helicopter while fighting to stay alive.

Ultimately, Terry was saved.  Most of his wounds were able to be fixed.  However, one of the bones in his foot could not be repaired.  Ten months after the accident, Terry has been told that he will never run again with his foot in it’s current condition.  He would be able to walk and golf but not run.

Terry identified this as a partial fix.  Terry wants to run.  He wants to live.  Terry is about 60 years old.  Nothing will keep him down not even a busted leg.  Terry has scheduled elective surgery to remove his foot.  His next goal is to set the record for the mile run at the Paralympics.

It’s easy to look at people like Terry and say “you’re crazy” or “you’re full of it” but I have found it better to be inspired.  It’s awesome to meet someone like Terry.  He makes you want to be better than you are and won’t give you an excuse to be anything less.  Thanks Terry.

Until next time…..  Swim, bike, run.

Saying Goodbye

Tonight I said goodbye to an old friend.  I had no idea it would hurt this much.  My heart is heavy with grief and a sense that I have betrayed a friend.

We met in November of 2008.  It was a cold wet day.  It was definitely too cold and wet to go outside.  Instead, we went back to my office.  I remember sitting there dreaming about all of the experiences we would share and the goals that we would meet.  At times, the dreams were even better than reality.  I was proud and satisfied.

Drivers have relationships with their cars.  In the old west, cowboys had a special relationship with their horse.  Triathletes feel the same way about their bikes.  My Cervelo is gone.  It is in the hands of another.

A couple months ago I got cocky and thought that I could love another bike.  I have always admired bikes which were capable of hiding the rear wheel such as the Cervelo P3.  Every time I saw one at a race, I thought about how cool they looked.  Their contribution to a better race finish bordered on irrelevance.  The important thing was experiencing a false sense of professionalism.

Three weeks ago I jumped the shark from fantasy to reality.  I found an Orbea Ordu on Craigslist.com that was beautiful.  It was owned by a professional cyclist from Team Type 1.  He did not have a need for it and was ready to part with the bike.  I thought that if it was good enough for a professional, it would surely fit my needs.  Everything went well up until the point that I realized that I would need to part ways with my Cervelo.

I put the Cervelo on Craigslist.com about 2 weeks ago.  I hadn’t heard much in terms of interest for the fist week.  Secretly, I was relieved.  Today, I had 3 offers and closed the deal.  With cash in hand, I watched my bike loaded onto another’s bike rack.  I was surprised by the developing lump in my throat.

I thought back to IMKY and Kansas.  I thought about the time we wrecked in Boulder and the battle scars that we both showed.  The buyer asked me if I had ever been in an accident with “the bike”.  I couldn’t wait to tell the story.  In a way, I hoped that the story would deter him.  I felt like I was selling my dog.

How can you connect with another dog?  How long does it take?  Don’t get me wrong.  I love my new bike.  It is ridiculously fast and hot.  However, I would rather go through water boarding than to go through that again.  I guess my old Giant is safe and so is Duke, the family dog, for now.

Until next time…..Swim, Bike, Run.

Dreamer vs. Pragmatist

When have we reached our best?  It’s a tricky question.  Some might argue that we have reached our zenith at a certain chronological age.  Others may measure it based on professional accolades or physical ability.  I believe it is when we stop dreaming of what could be and working to make those dreams become reality.

When we are children, adults tell us that we can be anything we want to be.  Shortly after that, we are riddled with suggestions.  Sometimes those suggestions are a window into the regrets of those with defeated plans.  However, I believe that more often than not, these suggestions represent the battle between dreams and pragmatism.

I like to think of both of my sons as being gifted.  One son is gifted athletically while the other tends to gravitate toward academics.  The athletic son speaks of playing in the NFL while simultaneously staring in the NHL.  The more academic son talks about working at an ice cream shop.  In both cases, I find myself raising a suspicious eyebrow during these conversations.  For this, I am disappointed in myself.  I don’t go so far as to thwart their dreams but wonder if the tone of my voice speaks louder than my words.  At 6 and 8, there is no better time to dream.  Pragmatism is the thief of innocence.

When I was a boy, I never had an honest answer to what I wanted to be when I grew up.  Other boys would say that they wanted to be a fireman or policeman.  I concurred but only because I didn’t know.  My dreams started to develop when I realized that I did not need to stuff myself into the box that someone else defined.  If I want to be the boss, I will lead by example.  If I want to be an athlete, I will race.  If I want to be an author, I will write.  Although none of these pursuits are likely to result in monetary compensation, it doesn’t matter.  What does matter is that all of us are free to choose and to be.

My goals continue to ascend.  I am continuing to pursue them.  It is my sincere hope that I will never stop dreaming of a balanced life filled with new challenges and experiences.  We are all helpless to combat the shifting sands contextual impacts.  However, we do not need to be victims to negativity and pragmatism.  It’s time for me to get out on my bike and pursue one of my dreams (2 hours today).  My dream of finishing IMWI in 11:30 will not happen on it’s own.  Until next time.  Swim, bike, run.

Steamed Cabbage

Swimming has never represented a core strength for me relative to the other two disciplines of triathlon.  For many individuals who feel more comfortable in the saddle or their Sauconeys,  the swim is like a pile of steamed cabbage that your Grandmother put on your dinner plate.  It stinks but you have to eat it.  This year I am dedicated to learning to like/love steamed cabbage.

Although I grew up in northern Michigan near the banks of the Great Lakes and sugary sands of south Florida, my experience in open water could best be described as survival.  The first time my wife, Bobbi, observed my lack of ability in the water was in Cancun on our honeymoon almost 12 years ago (not exactly the aphrodisiac I was looking for).   The experience clearly put to rest any preconception that there is a correlation between where one is raised and the skills and abilities they embrace.

On Friday, I met with my triathlon coach, Scott.  We talked for a bit and then headed to the pool for progress evaluation and to set goals and expectations for the coming week.  One of the drills I had been working on over the previous week was to find some swimming rhythm which would unite my kick with my pull.  By the way, I think I would have a better chances of swimming the English Channel than making it for ten minutes in a geriatric Jazzercise class.  My ability to generate a patterned cadence between my arms and legs represents a huge challenge.  Thank goodness YouTube was not around when I was attending junior high dances.  I think it could have provided a fatal blow to the brittle ego of my youth.

Scott has quickly identified that any instructions which will be interpretable by me need to be distilled into their most basic and controlled elements.  Therefore, he has isolated the movement to pulling and kicking on the same side simultaneously.  This is difficult to picture if you have not spent much time in the water.  I swam again on Saturday and experienced a hint of confidence in my ability to complete the drills effectively and efficiently prior to my next swim lesson in the coming week.  We’ll see.

Requiring additional attention is the sinking sensation I experience when I roll to one side for breath.  In my head, I know that I am not sinking.  However, I have not yet gotten my mind and body to cooperate with one another no matter how irrational.  My conclusion is that I need to learn to trust myself and coach.  Although trust is a highly valued and protected commodity, without risking this currency, mediocrity will surely be the end result.  I don’t really want to begin some bizarre series of self affirmation exercises but I will if it comes to that.  “I’m good enough.  I’m smart enough and gosh darn it, people like me.”

The rest of the week was awesome and I expect nothing less for the coming week.  I cannot believe that 10% of the road to IronMan Wisconsin has already been traveled.  I love that I have 90% of the journey yet to travel.  Until next time.  Swim, bike, run.

Floyd Hill Phil

My friend Phil dropped me an email last night to ask if I was up for a 40 mile ride today.  The ride fit with my training schedule so I let him know that I was definitely in.  Phil is like Superman on the bike.  I’m thinking about having him tested for substance abuse.  He is one of “those guys” that climbs to the top of the mountain, comes back down to meet you, goes back to the top, back down, etc.  Honestly, it’s a little irritating but by struggling to keep up with him, my riding has benefited over the past couple years.

Last year while on a ride in the mountains, I found myself clodding along up Floyd Hill.  It was toward the end of our ride and I was beat.  Of course, Phil had already ascended to the top of the hill.  I was about 3/4 of the way up the hill and guess who rides up next to me, Phil.  He is chatting along but what was really weird was how close he was riding to me.  I kind of felt like he was being a bit of a space invader.  Even weirder, the grade of the road had not changed but somehow I experienced a renewed sense of strength and energy until I looked down.  That’s when I saw it.  Phil had his hand on the back of my bike seat and was pulling me up Floyd Hill.

Will I ever be as good as Phil on the bike?  Answer:  Doubtful.  I’ll admit that I take some childish pleasure knowing that Phil isn’t a good swimmer.  I am not proud of this predisposition but I think Phil would understand.

Today’s ride was relatively uneventful.  I will continue to work to get faster on the hills but one thing is for certain.  I will not get faster if I do not continue to get out there and chase after people like my good friend Phil.

The road to IM Wisconsin is long and riddled with obstacles.  It is good to have Phil around.  He is someone that has my respect as a cyclist and a man.  It takes a special person to help another while protecting their pride.  Thanks Phil.  I am glad he doesn’t read my blog.  Until next time….  Swim, bike, run.

The Juice

So far, so good.  Week 29 of my 30 week IronMan training program is in the rear mirror.  The first 10 weeks of training is considered the base phase of training.  It is the time that a body prepares itself for phases 2 and 3, the build and peak phases respectively.  The base phase is undoubtedly the easiest of the 3 phases.  However, it shouldn’t be confused with easy.  I spent about 8 hours training last week.  My body was definitely sore but nothing that an Advil PM and a Screwdriver couldn’t cure.  The coming weeks will bring more; more time at the gym, more time in the pool, more time in the saddle, more time on the trail, and most importantly more intensity.

I have never considered myself a masochist but am beginning to doubt if this is true or not.  I love the feeling of being physically exhausted.  Professional accomplishments have never provided that same level of satisfaction.  Maybe it is because my professional accomplishments have generally been abstract.  For example, I have worked with debt, equity, time, business processes, and technology.  It is difficult to fully appreciate their lack of tangibility until experiencing their ambiguous nature.  The opposite is true about triathlon.

There is something concrete about meeting challenges and exceeding your own expectations.  Success is achieved by not listening to the devil on your shoulder telling you to quit.  In spite of that nagging sensation, go a little further.  Reflecting on those character miles is what makes it all worth it to me.  Everyone knows when they have truly left it all out there versus when they quit prematurely.  Training opens the opportunity for a daily victory.

Ultimately, race day is a manifestation of that effort.  It isn’t just crossing the finish line for me.  It is knowing that, although a bit cliché, I gave it my best.  The juice was worth the squeeze.  For me, IronMan is worth it.  Until next time, swim, bike, run.

IronMan Hawaii Lottery

Background information for normal people who don’t know that much about IronMan:

• IronMan is typically associated with a distance to be applied to triathlon equaling a 2.4 mile swim followed by a 112 mile bike ride and concluded with a 26.2 mile run.
• There are multiple Iron distance races which take place all over the world:  http://ironman.com/events/ironman is a list of the events sponsored by Ford.
• In order to race in the world champion event in Hawaii, a racer must either have a qualifying race at one of the Iron distance races sponsored by Ford, receive a special invitation, or get a spot through the lottery system.
• The IronMan lottery selects 150 US applicants to receive an invitation to the race.

Here is the deal.  I am not sure what kind of odds are attributed per lottery entry but I can guess that they are not good.  My dilemma is this.  Let’s fantasize for a minute that I win a spot.  Is this really the way I want to get there?  The cutoff for lottery entry is February 28th.  It would be huge to be able to race in Kona.  However, I am not sure that getting there under special circumstances is the way to go.

I am going to put together a poll to see what you think.

Giddyup!

Let’s hear it for Monday!!!  Today marks the first day of official training with my new coach Scott.  He has provided me with a sketch of the anticipated training for the next 4 weeks as the first stepping stone to IM Wisconsin.  Giddyup!  On today’s menu, a two hour stationary bike ride followed by strength training.  Am I missing something?  Two hours seems a bit lofty.  However, I am committed and will get it done one way or another.  It looks like I will be perched on a bag of frozen vegetables tonight.

In the past, my training has been enthusiastic but a little misguided.  It would be analagous to Howard Dean at the conclusion of the Iowa Caucus in 2004 and the infamous scream.  My drive has been there but historically, I have not connected all of the dots correctly.  My M.O. is to work too hard at the things I enjoy and to avoid the training I don’t.  I am not a great swimmer but you would think in the way I have avoided the pool that there is an estranged friend at the pool preparing to ask me for a loan.  This year is different.  If Scott says “go to the pool”, that’s where I will be.  There is something great about resigning yourself to the prescribed methodology of another.  In the worst case scenario, I have someone other than myself to blame.  In the best case scenario, I will be faster and more efficient.

Another piece of the puzzle beginning about 4 days ago was to start and maintain a food journal.  I’ll admit that this seems a bit remedial and painful.  The reality is that it has already saved me some calories.  No one wants to write down that they ate 5 Oreo cookies much less share that information with someone else.  It opens the door for someone to identify those oreo cookies as the primary source of failure.  Oreo consumption is a private matter.  I went out with some friends on Saturday and had a cheeseburger and fries.  I knew I would need to record that information in my journal which was painful.  However, I also found myself finishing the french fries.  Normally, I would have stopped after about 10-15 but I figured that I might as well own it since I would need to answrer for it anyway.  Clearly this is a counterproductive paradigm but it’s the truth.

I am anxious for Spring 2010.  I am ready to hear the birds chirp and the leaves dancing in the wind.  I am ready to get hit by a sprinkler set too close to the road.  The winter has been too long and the next ten days will porbably not signal the end.  I think I will try to visualize spring time in my head today while I am slogging away on the stationary bike.  Maybe I will play a little Jason Mraz or Jack Johnson on the Ipod.  I think it might be impossible to have unhappy thoughts when you hear them.  Until tomorrow.  Swim.  Bike.  Run.

To Be Continued

Yesterday signaled the beginning of my new coaching experience with Scott.  The objective for our meeting was for Scott to gain a more complete picture of my goals, achievements, and anticipated obstacles.  Scott is a good listener and I have the gift of gab so things went fairly well.

We talked about the pending race schedule beginning in June and culminating with the IronMan Wisconsin race in September.  I am currently scheduled to participate in 4 other triathlons which will be local to my home in Denver, Colorado.  I reiterated my goal of achieving a time of 11:30 in Wisconsin.  The goal is a bit arbitrary and lofty for someone with my level of athleticism but I figure that without a defined destination, I will never get there.  Scott indicated that he thought the goal could be achieved with the right training.

The next thing on the agenda was to talk about my athletic past or lack there of.  Something told me that he didn’t want to hear about my junior high basketball experiences.  However, I will admit that there are some great stories to be told.  If I had stuck with basketball, I think I could have eventually elevated my stature to alternate water-boy for local pickup basketball games at the YMCA.  I think Scott got the picture that I had never been an “athlete” until I got involved in endurance sports.  Prior to that, I was what some might identify as overindulgent and lacking the motivation to pursue anything outside my comfort zone/lazy boy.

Finally, we started the obstacle discussion.  I assured Scott that I was committed to the challenge and that little would stand in my way of following the prescribed method of training.  It is important to me that my goals do not overshadow the goals of my family but I am usually able to make things work.  It might involve an occasional night swim or a run before the sun comes up.  That’s okay.  After I got done talking the talk, we got into physical limitations.  We discussed my health record.  I didn’t think there was much to discuss here as most of the issues I have encountered have been remedied some time ago.  The only thing that was current is a problem I have had with my shoulder.   Scott called a physical therapist over to take a quick examination.

I did not hear what I wanted to hear.  The physical therapist indicated that there was most likely a significant issue with the rotator cuff.  It is my understanding that there is a range of significance and that an orthopedic doctor would be best able to assess the situation.  The idea of going to see an orthopedic doctor is not exactly what I want to do.  It’s like going to see a chiropractor for your back.  He will tell you that you need an adjustment.  The acupuncturist will tell you that you need acupuncture and the orthopedic surgeon will tell you that you need surgery.  Everyone wants to help with the tools they have in their bag.

Anyway, I called the orthopedic department at the hospital and they ordered x-rays to be reviewed next week.  I had the pictures taken and will be anxious to hear their spin on things.  Until then, I will not buy any trouble.  Instead, I will swim, bike, and run.