Half of an Ironman, still just a normal man

Anybody that knows me knows that I may have a tendency to fall into routines rather easily. I am not exactly sure what makes people think this, perhaps it is because in the past I have periodically spent many months consuming the same meal for every breakfast, lunch, and/or dinner. Perhaps it is because I tend to have a schedule that consumes nearly every hour of the day, which I repeat week after week. Basically, all pretty normal and standard procedure. BUT, this past weekend I decided it might be a good weekend to change things up and do something a little different.

So, on Saturday I figured why not wake up at 4:15 AM, sit in a beachside bathroom for 3 hours, go for a swim, bike, then run all morning, then spend the rest of the day curled in a ball feeling like WWIII was in full swing inside my abdomen. Going to see a movie was the alternate plan for the day.

Ok, maybe this was not completely impulsive and there was a little premeditation to the plan, and my swim-bike-run may have actually been called the Steelhead 70.3 Half Ironman in Benton Harbor, Michigan (the plan sounded a lot more hip without all the official names, did it not?) I also may have been training for this day (I know, I sound a lot more boring now).

The day did start at 4:15. When my mom dropped me off at 5:15 (kind of like getting dropped off at school by your mom, but I got to bring my bike to this school) a steady sprinkle-rain began. For those unfamiliar with triathlon, you begin with a swim, then head into a “transition area” where you have your bike, bike equipment, and running equipment stored. After the swim you hop onto your bike, then head back into the transition area a second time to drop off your bike and get your running shoes on and head out for the final leg of the race, the run. The swim start was going off in “waves,” simply meaning groups of people were started instead of one single mass start of everyone. The pros started first at 7AM and I was “fortunate” enough to be in the second to last wave, starting at 8:42AM! Unfortunately, the transition area closed at 6:30, so I could not just roll over to the race at 8:30 and say, “Let’s do this!” I had to get there in the morning darkness, set up my bike and equipment then hang out for several hours. While that sounds awesome, what is not awesome is when it is raining all morning. But what is surprisingly awesome is hanging out in the bathroom for about 2.5 hours. Perhaps the whole “hanging out in the bathroom” deterred people from doing it, but we had a lot of room in there. I should note, there was a changing room half to the bathroom, so I was not giving people high fives as they left the john.

Around 8AM I headed down the beach for the start. This race hosted a point-to-point swim, which means you walk about 2k (1.2miles to be exact) down the beach, then swim in a straight shot back to the transition area. Not only was the water (Lake Michigan) incredibly clean and a comfortable 76degrees, but they also have you swim “down current” (a lake surprisingly has a noticeable current, I did not know that). This made for an awesomely fast swim, a great artificial confidence boost. The swim went well, I fortunately avoided the dreaded heel-to-my-face move (typically another person’s heel to your face. I guess it could be both your heel and your face, but you might be experiencing bigger problems in that situation). I hopped out of the water and headed up to the transition area with an awesome crowd enthusiastically cheering on the guy behind me (I think I might name my son "John Tom Mike Jim Tim Bob Guillermo," that way he has a pretty good chance of always being cheered by everyone in nearly every situation). Then, I was onto the bike.

There is not much exciting to say about the bike, except all the rules that I was nervous about accidentally breaking (drafting, blocking, passing too slowly, passing on the wrong side, not dropping back after being passed, etc) were pretty much immediately broken by everyone else. The greatest challenge on the bike was having to pee for about 2 of the 2.5 hours. Surprisingly, peeing while riding the bike is incredibly difficult. The last 20 miles I decided it was time to “take care of business” before I started my run. It was not a “stage-fright” thing, I was perfectly comfortable with the idea, I mean it was essentially water anyway. But all I was able to do was make myself feel like I had to go even worse. I did learn that I might achieve success while coasting, but the downhills were all too short and again all I did was get really close to success, then it was time to pedal again. Honestly, I respect professional cyclists so much now, the skill of peeing on the bike is a masterful technique. But, I digress…

Finally, I hopped off the bike, full bladder and all, and started the run. First 3-4 miles I was feeling great and amazed how well I was moving. Finally, I decided it was time to stop thinking about peeing and made a quick stop in the porta-potty, and was off again. The second half of the run I began to fade fast. My stomach began cramping. I was familiar with this treacherous dance. On one hand it was a ticking bomb, once stomach cramping began it would only get worse. If I pushed too hard, it would shut me down. I guess you might say, this was damage control mode. Despite a poor second half, I trucked across the finish line with a decent morning behind me. I even managed to show off a couple nice moves on the run: a spin move to avoid a volunteer, a spin move to grab a cup by a distracted volunteer, and a little shimmy-sidestep to avoid another volunteer.

Crossing the finish line I felt completely spent, so I knew it was a good effort. After chatting with a fellow competitor for a bit (I am so good at talking to strangers) I headed off to find my mom who was my awesome support crew for the weekend. As I got close to her, a reminder quickly hit me. It was my stomach saying, “Remember me? Now it is my turn.” From there, the next 10 hours quickly degraded into me being in terrible pain. I did the best I could to cope. While getting some post race food for my support crew (mom), I managed to avoid throwing up all over the spread of food. I could not pass up the opportunity to hit up Bell’s Brewery with the weak hope of feeling better. Unfortunately, a Two-Heated on home tap was beyond reality, I did manage to put on a happy face for a picture before returning to my curled up state. I have to say my mom was awesome for being my support crew and putting up with me being a big baby after the race…ok I was probably also a big baby the days leading up to the race as well. While I am certain it was not very exciting for her, the highlight of my weekend truly was having my own support crew cheering me on and sharing the experience with her!!

At the end of the day, I have to admit that I thought I would feel different after the race. Granted I did not expect to be in permanent fetal position post race, but I mean this metaphysically. I honestly thought it would change the way I looked at things, like there was some wisdom hidden within those 70.3 miles. Accordingly, there was a little bit of, “Is that all there is?” when I finished. Having chewed on it for a couple days, it seems foolish to think one mornings experience would make me feel different about the world. But, comparing myself today to myself before I started training for the event, that has been transformative. I think it is on par with waking up the next day after your wedding, looking at your new wife/husband and saying “Is that all there is to being married?” It is a ridiculous thing to say and think. So, I guess I would say Saturday was my graduation or my celebration for my transformative experience. I have learned a great deal about myself at those 8AM swim practices when I think drowning would definitely feel better than another set, or those early morning mile repeat sessions when I achieve dry-heaving on my second out of four repeats, or on my long runs when it is just me and my consciousness (yes, they are two different people, how else could I have all those conversations?) for several hours, and on the long rides where I have made friends, or, or, or, or all those other times. Becoming half of an ironman (or tinman as my bro calls it) really is about the process. It is funny, looking back on the weekend now, I wish I took more pictures of me with my mom and with inspiring people I met. Makes you realize how what you think is important can obscure what feels important later…WWIII in your abdomen also tends to obscure things. So it goes…

(On a side note: the half Ironman distances are: 1.2mile swim, 56mile bike, 13.1mile run, and a whole lot of fun!!)

(Pictures top to bottom: (1) Pre-race day swim photo shoot, drink it up ladies! (2) 5:30AM, bike racked, rain about to start (3) About to head out for the run, there's no smiling in triathlon! (4) Meters away from the finish, is that a smile or a grimace? (5) Bell's Brewery, is that a smile or a grimace?)

Tri'ing to stay positive

I had set the alarm for 5AM, but shortly after 4AM I awoke to a dog panting in my face. It was my sister’s dog and the panting in your face was his way of saying he wanted let outside. Today was my first triathlon race of the season; in fact, it was my first tri in nearly two years due to my summer in Alaska last summer. Determined to get my final hour of sleep I rolled over and wished the dog away. By 4:45AM, after being reminded by the dog every ten minutes, I gave up, grumbling out of bed.

Unlike my mom’s dog’s, my sister’s dogs must be leashed outside or they will run. As I tied up her second dog, I thought to myself, “Why is Nala (my sister’s golden retriever) staring at me? Usually she runs into the yard. And I’m surprised how quickly Maggie (my mom’s golden retriever) ran into the yard, usually she just stares at me…” With that I realized that Maggie was staring at me, while Nala took off into the neighborhood. I was presented with the difficult decision of: (1) try to chase down the dog, or (2) cut the lost dog as a loss and get ready for my race. Considering how mad my sister would be, it seemed like net net chasing the dog would require less energy. Stepping into the yard with only shorts on, the opened up and began a torrential downpour. There I was, standing in the pitch black, being drowned, and no clue how I would begin to find this dog. After aimlessly wondering around the neighborhood I realized I should get my mom to join in on this search. As I returned to the house, that dumb dog was sitting at the door waiting to be let in! First challenge of the day: Completed.

After a 1.5 hr drive I arrived at the race with 45 min to the start of the race. I had taken my mom’s car, enabling me to put my bike inside in case the rain started again (which conveniently stopped after the dog was found). Walking up to the check-in, it dawned on me I had intentionally placed my helmet in my car so as not to forget it. I did not think about forgetting to take MY car. There I was, 1.5 hrs from my helmet and 45 min to the start of the race. Selfishly I figured I might as well try and get a family member to drive it out here, otherwise I could just do the swim and call it a day. My dad agreed (highlighting the awesomeness of my family).

The helmet would not arrive until 20 min after I was out of the water, but at least I could participate in all 3 events. It was a bummer not to be able to compete. With 20 minutes to the race time the sky opened up with torrential rain, thunder and lightening. Most importantly, the race was delayed. Amazingly, the helmet might arrive in time! Now was a race against the clock. My phone has this great ability of no longer working when the moisture around it got too high (this could even be a sweaty pocket on a hot day). I knew my phone wouldn’t last long. The only spot out of the next flood I could find was a port-a-pot. I stood in the bathroom trying to relay as much info to my dad as I could. I also finished preparing for the race in the small space.

As quickly as it came, the race stopped. As I lined up for the start I realized I wasn’t very nervous. All the chaos of the morning had completely pre-occupied me. When I got out of the water my dad was standing there with helmet in hand.

Other than everything being completely drenched, a very choppy swim, windy bike/run, and getting burned because in the downpour I didn’t even consider sunscreen, it turned out to be a fantastic day. Despite these challenges during the race, but spirits were high because I was just glad to participate. I find it amazing that while any one of those setbacks (the dog, the dog, the helmet, the rain, the wind, the sun, my bleeding feet) could have justifiably called it a day, but it turned out pretty awesome.

I don’t have any pics from the race, but here are some from last weekend’s Saturday swim and run (not pictured: the giant milkshake after the run!!)

Lists.

"There are things that can be controlled and things that can't. Somewhere in the spaces between the two we fashion out art and our lives"
-Jim Bridwell

Unfortunately, this is an adventureless posting again. I know, I'm getting lame. But, I recently pulled out an old notepad and discovered a list I had made circa fall 2008. On a side note, I love making lists. But really, who doesn't? This list was appropriately titled, "Adventure List." As the title alludes, this list included many adventures I hope to accomplish.

I remember considering posting the list on this very blog at the time, but then opting out. I felt it might appear like I was trying to act all "hardcore" and "adventurous," when really I am just a normal man. The amazing thing is that over the last year and a half I actually accomplished the first thing on my list!

This got me to think, everyone should make adventure lists! These lists should be without limit. I'm not trying the preach, "You can accomplish anything you put your mind to" mentality. My motivation is more intimate. The great thing about routines is that they are comfortable and efficient. Adventures are neither of these, that is why they are called adventures. But the thing that separates us from computers is not our ability to keep a routine, it is our ability to do exactly not that -- adventures. Looking at pictures from Elizabeth and Casey's travels around Thailand and Myanmar, I always think: something that seemed so inconvenient to routine and expenses opened a world that from third party perseective simply looks magical.

So, here's my list. I hope you make your own and dream bigger than big. I also do not plan to cross anything off, rather just check how many times I've done it. Finally, remember stories that begin with, "Remember when we..." are much more interesting than, "This one time I..." So adventure with a loved one.

Adventure List

1. Ride 200-miles in a day
2. Do an Ironman
3. Race Ironman Kona
4. XC ski tour Yellowstone
5. XC ski / ice climb tour Yostemite
6. Climb a big wall
7. Climb El Cap
8. Run a 50-mile race
9. Do a multi-stage bike race
10. Learn to fly an ultra-light
11. See the Northern Lights
12. Ride from LA to San Fran
13. Go to Japan
14. Bike through Laos
15. Go to Mongolia
16. Bike from eastern Russia through Mongolia
17. Climb in Greenland
18. Ride the Leadville 100
19. Climb in Newfoundland
20. Fly fish the Two Hearted River
21. Go to Bell's Brewery
22. Ride a wood velodrome
23. Go on a bike tour with a close friend (to be honest, I just added this one today, but something I've thought about for a while)

I added some pretty pictures because if you are anything like me, you would just look at the pictures and opt out of reading any of my ramblings. (Pictures include: a normal summer night at Caesars Creek, Ohio (I love Ohio); Denali Park, Alaska; me and my "little" brother in Hatcher's Pass, Alaska).

Health care, immigration reform, museums, blue sky, 70 degrees...quite a Sunday

Feeling an urge to get out of town, I took a quick day trip down to Washington, DC. While I listened to the radio on the way down, I learned that the Senate would be voting on health care today, and there was going to be a march on Washington for immigration reform. In addition, it was a beautiful day, so it was anything but a slow Sunday in DC. Considering one of my first trips to DC on my 5th grade class trip happened to fall on a gay right march, this was a mellow weekend relatively speaking.

Beyond tens of thousands of people, perfect weather, sights and museums, I don't have any exciting stories. On a side note, if you ever want to feel tall, walk into a crowd of thousands of Mexican people. I felt like I was standing on a small hill being able to look over everyone's head.

SNOWMAGEDDON!!!!

[Something about breaking trail feels awesome, and tiring. Awesomely tiring?]

[cue a deep, drawn voice that would be guilty of being totally annoying, but thanks to Hollywood is "only guilty of being awesome" (if you can cite that reference lets be best friends, unless you are a female and single, then when do we get married?)]
"Narrator: This is the Earth, at a time when the dinosaurs roamed a lush and fertile planet.
[From behind the camera, a giant asteroid appears, speeding towards the Earth ahead of it]
Narrator: A piece of rock just 6 miles wide changed all that.
[Blazing through the atmosphere, the asteroid impacts with a spectacular display of fire and destruction]
Narrator: It hit with the force of 10,000 nuclear weapons. A trillion tons of dirt and rock hurtled into the atmosphere, creating a suffocating blanket of dust the sun was powerless to penetrate for a thousand years. It happened before. It will happen again. It's just a question of when."
Narrator: The peaceful East Coast was comfortably enjoying Winter winding down and the premier of the final season of Lost (finally), but little did they know that they were in the deadly cross-hairs of a force far greater than they could ever imagine. Only one man, a weatherman, was able to identify this catastrophe rocketing towards them, but everyone just wrote him off as a lunatic (because, well, he was). But before millions could see The Who take the halftime stage (who? The Who? Who wants to see a Who nip slip?), they would be pounded by Snowmageddon!!!
[dun-dun-duuuun!!!!]
(on a side note, I once graded a college level paper about asteroids and the kid cited "Armageddon" the movie as a scientific reference! Granted Bruce Willis legitimizes that, but Ben Affleck destroys all credit. But not only did he reference it, he plagiarized the narrator word-for-word. The real crime, however, is that I did not even fail him, barely.)

Other than being short by about 15 feet of snow, a little fire and wrath, and Bruce Willis wasting his life on a total loser (who's only good movie inspired us all to drop out of school, get a library card, solve equations on our bathroom mirror, start eating apples, and recognize the importance of a retainer) who was smitten for Bruce's daughter (who would be totally smoking hot, except every time you look at her you see flashes of her father half-painted in black body-paint zipper thing, while a guitar solo drowns in the background), this was pretty much nothing like the Armageddon of snow storms. But it DID bring a lot of snow over night.

Realizing that running in knee-deep, wet snow did not sound totally awesome, unless, of course, I was training to fight an 8foot Soviet with "Eye of the Tiger" playing on repeat and wearing an awesome leather jacket, I went for a ski. But it is never a "normal" ski when you are in the vice grips of Snowmageddon (no, "snowmageddon" will never get old, and if you think it is, you need to watch this again).

Things I learned from other people while out skiing:
1. When Snowmageddon is pounding the countryside, it is not wise to take a "short-cut" through the woods on a forest road in the middle of the night.

2. After you get stuck on a on a forest road in the middle of the night, before spending the night in your truck, maybe you should realize that you are only about 4miles from a major road.

3. When you are driving in the next morning to pick your friends up after they spent the night in their truck all night after getting stuck on a forest road only 4miles from a major road, don't get yourself stuck also.

4. When Snowmageddon hits, driving in knee deep snow to go sledding in the middle of the forest is not be the most productive use of your time after you slide off the road, get stuck on a rock, and never actually go sledding.

5. When you are skiing along a forest road after Snowmageddon hits, you are no longer a skier, you are road-side assistance on skis (I learned that one from myself).

Cliff Notes of today's post: We got a lot of snow. I went skiing, then got a milkshake. Thanks for reading.

Disclaimer: No nuclear warheads were set off in the writing of this blog.

NH nICE

What better thing to do when it gets bitterly cold than to head outside and play. When Stefan and the family headed back to school and work, I decided it was time for me to continue putting off returning to work and head up north for some good NEice. Luckily, I have friends with flexible schedules or who also enjoy shirking responsibility. Meeting up with Kevin in Connecticut we headed up to snowy North Conway, New Hampshire to connect with Narva and Doug for some ice climbing.

Unlike me recent trips, everything seemed to go right up in NH. We got a pretty good deal on lodging that included a free DELUXE hot breakfast ("deluxe" = "eggs" have no taste, "bacon" is likely paper given paper thin thickness and paper-like flavor...however, I cannot overlook the awesome sweet-buns and chocolate muffins...I guess deluxe does mean awesome. As a results, everyone kept mistaking me for Will Gadd, thank you Holiday Inn Express), and free all-you-can-eat pasta dinner (which only required one minor lie).

Unfortunately, unlike the streak of previous climbing trips with Kevin (vis-a-vis falling icebergs, epic days, and black holes (not the proper use of "vis-a-vis," but I find if you use strange words confidently, they usually work)) this trip did not include any major SNAFU's and went pretty smoothly. So, all I have to share are some great pictures.

Narva shows you don't need heel spurs or figure-4s when you have icicles

Doug warmly watches Kevin freeze belaying me while I hack my way up

Check out more pics:

NH nICE

“I got pooped on, but that was an awesome adventure!”

"There are things that can be controlled and things that can't. Somewhere in the spaces between the two we fashion out art and our lives"
-Jim Bridwell


I’m writing this sitting in the airport waiting for the final leg of my red-eye flight from San Francisco, arriving a little late after a TWO DAY DELAY! This delay has not only provided adequate time to finally write a blog posting, but also consider situations out of my control. I do not hesitate to admit that I’m a bit of a control freak with my life; I quickly feel trapped when I do not have an easy escape.

Granted when I was first told that it would be at least 2 days before I would have a chance of leaving, my first reaction was to punch the guy in the face. But I quickly reasoned that might not help the situation, and the counter would likely get in the way of a clean hit. While still recognizing the situation definitely sucked, I soon starting planning how to take advantage of two more days in San Fran. All this really hit me the next day when I finally had time for my first run in over two weeks. As I ran along the bay, watching an enormous suspension bridge rise out of the fog, I still wished I was home, but recognized this delay was not the destruction of my holiday.

Few things ever seem to go right, and that is life. I am not trying to get all feel good, let’s hold hands, and sing around the campfire. But I realize most of the things that I call “adventures,” are actually things going wrong. My epic Mount Wilson adventure = things gone wrong. The epic long day of climbing Mount Whitney = not the day we planned. The last 100 miles of the Fireweed race, the last 6 miles of every marathon = things not going right. In fact, there is a very thin line between “adventure” and life taking a poop on you. Coming from a control freak, I have learned the delineation between these two outcomes many times comes down to me; do I decide to smile and say, “bring it on!” or do I scowl and say “@$#@#!@!##%($*$#$(@#)!@$%!!!!!!”

This is where Jim Bridwell is spot on. I have learned the most about myself when things are going wrong. You can prepare under controlled conditions, but there is a reason that you do not take tests with all the answers right in front of you. Understanding that things will go wrong and this is the essence of the experience, all you can do is just embrace it. Now I go into marathons looking forward to the final 6 miles, because that when I really start to suffer. Without that suffering, it is just another run.

This fall I returned to the Columbus Marathon. I ran with the Boston qualifying pace group again, but this time I was not a newby to marathon or Boston. It was interesting to see the other runners who were in the same spot I was two years ago: first time marathoners with a dream goal of getting to Boston. Around mile 19, I pulled up next to one said runner. He mumbled, “I need to do something to wake myself back up.” Looking at him, I knew his goal of Boston would not be won this year and in this sense his race was over. The guy was clearly working way too hard by this point in the race and beginning to suffer too early as well. But the next 6 miles were ample time to remedy these challenges. I knew his race was over by the look on his face. I told him, “Smile, you are running your first marathon!” He just responded with a heavy, “Yea.” The problem was that this race was not simply his first marathon, it was the means to his second marathon, Boston. While I considered explaining all this to him, I reasoned he was suffering too much to have some random guy lecture him nearing mile 20 of a marathon.

It takes a unique personality to willingly suffer. This really hit me during my fantastic opportunity to run with my brother-in-law (BIL) in his first marathon. Fortunately, we chose an incredibly difficult trail marathon in December for this first race. As cramping and IT band pain hit him around mile 16, running for over 5 hours in pain seemed absurd. After seeing the look on his face after the finish line, it all made sense. Any challenge, be it 5k, 200-miles, or plane flight home can go completely wrong. There are too many variables out of our hands. But, what is in our hands and only our hands is the decision to throw in the towel and punch the airline attendant in the face or to roll with it. Even if we cross the finish line on our hands and knees, we can hold our chin up, smile, and say, “I got pooped on, but that was an awesome adventure!”

PS. Shortly after writing this posting, my final flight got canceled.