To run... or not to run...

I went for a run early this morning...

Okay, no big deal.

I like going for runs though. Being off a training schedule for a week (the "flexibility" of vacation sometimes means you have to get your workouts in as available and in whatever capacity is possible, but doesn't really allow for "structure" all that much) I have been itching to get back to it. I got home late last night so I couldn't go for a scheduled run, so I awoke at 6am this morning and plumbed out a short 6 km before work down at the beach.

For me, getting a run in is the first step to getting back on track. Some go for a ride, or a swim, or a race (?), but for me it is a run. It's like coming to center again. "This makes sense" I repeat to myself. Plus, it's just plain easy to go for a run. Shoes, shirt, shorts and sometimes a watch depending on if i feel like it. Often, actually, I tend to run without a watch. This flies in the face of the "A"-type compulsive attitude, and I love it for that. For most of the runs in Vancouver, I have a rough idea of how long it should take, so I can usually time myself well enough to make sure I am not out longer than I need to be.

And there is something natural and free about throwing the watch away and just running. I think this attitude comes from the Chi Running course I took last year with Danny Dryer. If you haven't heard of this or seen the book, I recommend you check it out. The book is available at most bookstores but you can also go to www.chirunning.com and learn more. For "lifestyle" runners like me, this is almost a must read. You learn of a more effortless, efficient, ultimately faster, and importantly fun philosophy of running... Any aspersions or negative feelings I have ever had towards running disappeared with this book and course.

To top all this off, I've volunteered to teach the marathon clinic at the Denman Running Room this summer. I thought about it and I enjoy the experience of helping others run and run their first marathon, so I'm teaming up with the current instructors and we're going to co-instruct the clinic. I'm looking forward to this and I have figured out that it will work well with my training schedule. Plus, I think teaching others will help keep me focused on my own training...

Tomorrow is June 1st... That seems menacing right now. Just over 2 weeks until the Victoria Half Ironman, a key race indicator for me this summer as I get ready for Ironman in August.

Tonight I'm going to bust over to the North Shore (hopefully traffic will allow such a thing. I've already had to cut the drive and do loops of Stanley Park instead because of traffic) for a bike ride with the Tri One group. I sense that hills will be involved - it's the North Shore after all.

It is good to be back in town.

Transitions...

It’s fun to watch new people taking up the sport of triathlon. I had a wonderful experience last weekend, volunteering for the North Shore Spring Triathlon, and watching numerous 1^st time triathletes, including some 6-10 year olds, as they set up their transition areas, getting ready to tackle the sprint triathlon distance… Nervous, excited, some cocky, some frightened, some shy, it is nice to be able to look out and see what people experience as they go through the race in their minds.

I was especially moved by the kids, all excited and enthusiastic and ready to prove something. There was the sweetest little 7 year old girl who was shy, and when we talked, I just asked her how she wanted to set up her transition gear. Not much of a response other than “I don’t know, what should I do?” Priceless. I’ve seen the same response from adults, of course, and it’s no less inspiring, but just seeing the triathlon through a child’s eyes makes you fall in love with this sport even more.

Hmm, something to think about… Maybe kids aren’t so bad after all?

The transition area of a triathlon is a fun place to be. Aside from the gear-envy one inevitably gets watching new bikes set up and on display, like a showcase, it’s the people. We’re always friendly, joking around with each other, scoping out those we think are our “age group” to see if we think we can beat them, or just scoping… there are some very attractive people in this sport.

But a transition area really does seem like something more. It’s the place where we change identities, going from a swimmer, to a biker, to a runner… It all appears seemless and organized, although I can tell you it can be anything but. Most of the time, in the excitement, we lose track of what we’re supposed to do in order to prepare for the next activity. We rush through without taking a necessary sip of water – after the swim, sometimes we do this because we don’t think of ourselves as being “thirsty” – or even toweling ourselves dry enough to put on a bike jersey. In our efforts to rush into our new sport, we wind up taking longer because we have hastily put things together.

It’s the way of triathlon, but maybe that also helps us in dealing with our own balancing act in life. We all have different roles to play. From an employee/employer, to a husband/wife, father, friend, son/daughter, homeowner, writer, gardener, carpenter, etc, we are not one dimensional creatures. Our priorities extend far beyond survival but into our other hobbies and roles.

And the transition from one to another is just as important as the activities themselves. It’s hard to transfer into parenthood after being at work all day without some kind of break, even if just to change your mindset. I don’t agree with taking work home with me, and I try very hard not to take my training to work. I struggle to focus exclusively on the task at hand and give myself to it 100% without considering all the other aspects of my life. And yet, I think that the successful triathlete focuses on one task at a time, not looking too far ahead, not looking behind, and planning for the next step. In life, we can take that lesson to heart.

I think the most successful people are always mastering that balance. They focus themselves intensely on their job/business, when they need to, and then put an equal focus into their family after, their training, etc. And yes, I believe the definition of success is being able to do all of it. I don’t see success in someone who works every hour of the day on his/her business and spends little or no time with family. I figure, if you make the commitment to have a family, you commit yourself to that wholly. You have to work, you have to train (as an athlete), and when you do that, you do it well and with equal commitment. But you make sure you demonstrate the same commitment to your family and everything else that “matters”.

And I think, in a transition area, we find a physical incarnation of a balanced life. It’s like a short lesson in time management. How can you make it all work in one life/day?

You figure out what is necessary to do it all, and you do it.

“You only live once, but if you work it right, once is enough.” Joe Louis

Santa Barbara Day 5

These past few days I have been watching lots of bikers out on the road, getting in their miles, and have started to get antsy about getting on my bike. That is usually the sign of a good break, when you are itching to get going again. I have a strong feeling that, mentally, taking a few days away from the structured training schedule has been refreshing. I also know I need to get things going in a hurry when I get back. I’ve run more this week (more days) than usual, but I have only gone swimming twice aside from my race on Wednesday, and my last bike ride was Tuesday… Now a strong biking week is not just preferred, it’s pretty much necessary.

I played golf yesterday and, in all respects, I’d say it was just about the worst round I have ever played. I just didn’t feel “on”. I started just focusing on trying to make one good shot. When everything is going wrong, I think you have to get back to the basics, and just try to make that next “step” a good one. And realize that it doesn’t have to be perfect, or even outstanding. We just have to take the step and keep moving forward.

One thing I realize that I have been neglectful of is in the fundraising for the Ironcops. I am sitting at $1,000 right now in pledges, and I had set a goal of $5,000 before the Ironman. Well, Ironman is three months away so that makes the challenge that much tougher. I’ve got some work to do. I firmly believe I can hit the target, but it is going to require a little creativity on my part. I haven’t been one to get pledges by asking people. So, I’m going build some goals for friends and family, based around the Ironman. So, I need swim sponsors, bike sponsors, and run sponsors. In other words, sponsor my swim for a donation of $24 (2.4 miles), the bike for $112 (112 miles), or the run for $42.20 (42.2 km). Donate that to http://www.ironcopsbc.com/ and click on me as a team member to follow the instructions to the donation page. It’s all for a worthy cause and my purpose, of course, is just to help out and support the team that I am on, and the cause that we are fighting.

I often think that I am privileged to not have to deal with an illness or sickness that debilitates me or has given me a specific timeline to my life. It is fortuitous, but I also can’t take this for granted. It is funny because I believe, and tell people, that in order to truly train for the Ironman, you have to make sure your other priorities are in line and you’re at a stable point where you can train this way (and put in the money). However, I believe I am exactly the opposite. My career is undefined, I am not married nor do I have kids. The only thing, actually, that I DO have structure and stability in is in the athletic training. And maybe part of that is why I’m drawn to the sport. I like knowing I have something to work towards, that gives me a sense of purpose each day. And, by no means do I profess to be changing the world, but I also think that we all have passions and activities that make us come alive, and if we all did what made us come alive, we’d probably be a much happier world.

Of course, we all have responsibilities. I am no different in that I know that I have to take care of myself and look to the future. There could be a day when I can’t exercise the way I’d like, and the Ironman is not going to pay the rent or put food on the table. All this being said, I think the Ironman (I refer to the Ironman but really this applies to marathon running, ultrarunning, adventure racing, etc I am sure) takes care of some very basic emotional and spiritual needs in ways that other needs don’t. It’s a process, and it’s also a way to reconnect with yourself. There is very little fanfare involved except amongst our own community, and most of that is due to the fact that we support each other in our training and preparation. I like that. I like that there isn’t a lot of giant popularity out there. We’re on the fringe, and it means we get to create, for ourselves, the experience. I’ll never be Wayne Gretzky, but I’ll race and compete and train like a champion, because I have a feeling I know why he does it (or did it in his time).

Anyway, I’m on vacation so I’m just thinking out loud ;).

Santa Barbara Day Three

I have been in Santa Barbara now for three days. This morning a buddy and I ran down from our house on the top of Grant Avenue, to Sterne’s Wharf and back up. All told it was about 6 miles, and we completed it in just under 50 minutes. Yesterday I found two running shops, the Santa Barbara Running Company and OutFooters. I was looking for a pair of Asics DS Trainers, since I can get them here in the U.S. for about $100 instead of the $180 that I would pay in Canada. The Santa Barbara Running Company is also attached to Hazard Cycles, so you get a full swig of the triathlon gear there. They have some great bikes and gear. I am certain if I ever opened up a triathlon store this is how I would do it. Have two stores merged together, each with staff to assist in their specialty (bike staff and run staff). Awesome store, though. The website is http://www.sbrunningco.com

This week, since the race on Wednesday, has become one of lighter runs and, well, not much else. I have plans to run a 10-miler on Sunday before we head out for some wine tours. The course is the same as the long course for the Santa Barbara Triathlon in August.

So, I am quite relaxed and enjoying a week of reduced training. I’ll be ready as rain to get going again the moment I get back… But it is nice to get away for a few days!

Nite Moves

I just had the opportunity to run a weekly race in Santa Barbara called the Nite Moves! It's every Wednesday at 6:30pm and consists of either:

a) a 5k running race

b) a 1k ocean swim race

c) the "biathlon" - 1k ocean swim & 5k running race

For $25, you are given a t-shirt, a barbecue after, and free beer until the kegs run out.

I decided to take my chances with the biathlon.

The water was a balmy 63 degrees, but today the temperature in Santa Barbara was in the 90's Fahrenheit... A little warm for my taste.

As I stood on the shoreline waiting for the lifeguards to get us started, they made an announcement that one of the buoy markers on the swim course had been dragged off course by some seaweed. They were warning us not to swim to this particular buoy - which, of course, looking out into the water, is indistinguishable from any OTHER buoy out there... Every one of us started looking at each other, asking "do you know which buoy they are talking about? Nope... Uh-uh... That one? No, I think it's THAT one..." you get the point.

So the gun goes off, and we run from the beach to the ocean. Most of us are in wetsuits, with a few folks going sans... I imagine they are the hardcore "open water swim"-types who loathe us wimpy wetsuit folk. As I ran into the ocean, a 4 foot wave came crashing down in front of me. The best thing to do was stand there and take it before trying to dive in.

Eventually, I dove in. Welcome to my first open water swim of the year!

As usual, a mass swim start presents its own list of issues, with people bumping each other for position, especially as we swim out to that first buoy. In this swim, however, everybody seemed much more polite. I was not smacked once and I was even given the right of way as I started to pass a couple of people. Of course, since more people were passing me, I offered the same courtesy.

Coming to the first buoy, I turned right.... Directly into the sun. It's 6:30pm and the sun is starting to set... in front of me. Now, not only was I trying to ascertain which buoy NOT to swim towards, but I couldn't see them anyway! So, I took the most prudent course, and just tried to keep an eye on those people beside me and make sure I was parallel to them. The waves were steep, and on a few occasions I found myself lifting my left arm out of the water, only to bring it down about 3 feet lower than my body. I've never contended with this before... It was quite exciting, actually, aside from the fact that I was feeling a little seasick.

It turned out my strategy of following others paid off, and I blindly made it to the turnaround buoy without straying off course towards the "forbidden off course buoy" that had been mentioned. I honestly have no idea where I was going but apparently it was correct.

I headed towards shore, believing myself to be in the middle of the pack, or at the worst, just back of the middle. I got behind someone's feet and drafted in the whole way, figuring that I wasn't here to win the swim. My strength, hopefully, would come out on the run.

I exited the water in 17 1/2 minutes. I'll admit not a fast 1k swim time, but adequate enough. The transition area to change into my runners was, really, just a patch of grass set up by the running path. Not terribly sophisticated, but it's a fun run so I'm not going to complain. I thought about throwing my socks on, but I decided against it and just through the running shoes on, my running shirt, and took my sunglasses. I had the biggest "air bubble" in my lungs after that swim, and I hoped that the start of the run would allow me to burp it out, so I brought along some water to help "speed the process".

The run is an out and back 5k, and the first half is straight up, the second half straight down. I realized this about a mile into the race, as there seemed to be no "level" ground and no end to this hill we were climbing. Slowly, I was picking off some of the runners in front, either other biathlon participants or some of the 5k run-only runners (that race started about 10 minutes after ours). I got to the turnaround and still hadn't worked out this bubble. I was in a bit of pain...

Coming on the downhill, I was able to finally get out a very rude, but satisfying, air "belch". I know this isn't exactly endearing talk, but believe me, nothing feels better than clearing your stomach for a final push to the finish…

So, I raced downhill towards the finish, and crossed the line with a crowd-pleasing 24 minute 5k. Taking into account about a 2 minute transition I’ll shave that down to 22 minutes.

Afterwards, everybody hung around the beach while a local band cued up some cover tunes, and the beer garden opened up as well. A local microbrew is one of the series sponsors, so they were supplying the beer. Did I mention that it was free???? Needless to say, a $25 entry fee went a LONG way towards the beginning of my vacation!

Anyway I highly recommend checking this race out if you’re ever in Santa Barbara. The Triathlon Club down here is well represented and they are a friendly group. I am going to try to hit the masters swim with them in the morning and we also have an ocean swim planned for Friday night. The race website is: http://www.runsantabarbara.com/

A short little “C” race for the season, but a great way to kick things off!

140.6

Either you do it or you don’t. Life is so rarely defined by such a boundary, and yet, in an Ironman, or a marathon, or a distance event, we have a clear beginning of a goal, and a clear end to a goal. Seldom are we given such a clear measure of what will make us successful. The starting line is on a beach in Penticton on August 27^th, 2006. After that, a course is laid out with a finish line 140.6 miles later.

It is the wonder of these ultra-endurance sports that we find our greatest satisfaction. Often we are asked “why?” Part of the purpose of this blog is to discover that for myself. Yet rarely is it easy to explain to a non-runner. And this is not because I am a rude, selfish guy, but because in truth I can’t answer that for myself. I’ve written over 50 entries in this blog and I still don’t know for sure. Ask the mountain climber why he climbs a mountain, and the answer becomes “because it is there”. Pretty unsatisfying answer if you ask me. And yet that’s all I can really say too. I don’t know why.

But part of the answer lies in how it is simply a goal with a beginning and an end. I crave something to conquer, definitively.

Albert Camus said “We are at home in our games because it is the only place we know just what we are supposed to do.”

How many of us ask THAT question? What am I supposed to do?

Will a career path make me successful? How will I know? Will a relationship make me complete? How about money? A family? A house?

Now, all these are worthwhile pursuits, and help create a sense of purpose, but they are not the purpose. Nor is the Ironman itself. It’s not a purpose either (shock to admit that). But, in all of this, we have 140.6 miles of distance to cover, through water, over highways and mountains, and in a prescribed order. It’s a place where I know what I need to do.

Of course, I recognize that the training itself has many positive side effects. First of all, running has always been a way for me to release and transition to a new mindset. I no longer can wait until the evening to get my run in. On Tuesdays, I try to get that run in as soon as work is over. That way I can feel good about the rest of the evening and about my day. This is not a cure for depression, but it is certainly a positive outlet to flush out, mentally and physically, and gain a new perspective. So, when someone asks, I can say “I don’t know. I just like to run…” but that still doesn’t answer the question “Why THIS crazy race? Health and fitness are one thing, but this is excessive.”

Again, why play a game? Why play Solitaire? Why a video game? Why a basketball game? All of these escapes offer conclusions we can digest. Even a television show or a movie gives us that sense of denouement or finish. Beginning to see why the Ironman yet? Me neither. One answer I find whenever I take a look at one of my cats. He always begs to go outside. When I say “begs”, I am talking about an unrelenting shriek of a meow, that will go for hours until he is appeased. The thing is, he just wants to go outside and explore. No matter how many times he’s been out, he still follows me around, begging me to let him out again. It’s not for hunting, or to go to the bathroom, or to have sex with other cats (I presume since he’s been “adjusted”) or to sleep, all these instinctual animal needs that we think of. He just wants to go outside. The adventure, it seems, is worthwhile in itself.

Thinking of my pursuit of Ironman, I begin to understand my cat. Or is it, thinking of my cat, I begin to understand my pursuit of the Ironman?

“My fair cousin; if we are mark’d to die, we are honored by our country in its tragic loss. And if we live, the fewer men, the greater the share of honor.

God’s will, I pray thee, not one more man. For I am not covetous for gold, nor care I for material flourishments. But if it be a sin to covet honour, I am the most offending soul alive. We few, we happy few, we band of brothers; for he today that sheds his blood with me shall be my brother.

He that outlives this day, and comes safe home, will stand a tiptoe above all others. Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, but he’ll remember, with advantages, what feats he did this day. This story shall the good man teach his son, and forever their flowing cups will it be remembered; from this day to the ending of the world!”

This is an excerpt from the famous Shakespeare’s King Henry V, a rallying cry to his soldiers before the battle of Agincourt.

In Ironman, we share a unique bond with the few, the happy few, who have attempted and completed the distance. It’s not that it’s exclusive, at all. It’s that you cannot fake the Ironman. You can’t wake up on Saturday and say “tomorrow I’ll do that race”. You have to get there, you have to work, and you have to respect that you will be tested, and tested, and tested again. And you will lose hope at some point, be frustrated, and you could be on the side of the road, battered and bruised. Sounds like fun, eh?

In the end, though, you sit around a banquet – somewhat reminiscent of the victory banquet in a kingdom – and tell your “war” stories, wearing the marks of the feats of the day… If you don’t buy that, I defy anyone to show me a person who doesn’t wear their finishers medal in a marathon or Ironman, or their race t-shirt, etc. after the race.

140.6 miles…. Think about it.

No more classes, no more books....

No more indoor swimming ------ and..... I 'got nothin' after that (I'm not singing in the shower either, which is where most of my lyrics are composed and tested).

It's official, summer is here. Yes, I checked the calendar and I know it is still May, but this weekend marks the opening of Kits Pool, Canada's longest pool, and it's outdoors. This is the unofficial kickoff for us Vancouver triathletes... When we put on sunscreen to go to the pool. Glorious!!

I'm stoked, and actually I am getting ready as we speak to head down for my baptism of the year. Kits pool is 137.5 metres long, which means it takes 7 3/4 lengths of swimming to complete a kilometer. But the nice thing is that you can just get into a rhythm with your strokes, and you're not doing endless "laps" anymore and trying to keep count.

One of my other breakthrough workouts in 2002 was a 5k swim in Kitsilano pool. That was, and remains, my longest continuous swim ever, but it really gave me the confidence to know that I could: a) finish the swim and b) finish it within the 2hr 20 minute cutoff time that exists at Ironman Canada.

So, this is like the dinner bell ringing. It's so nice to go down early in the morning, as the sun is just starting to warm up the day, and put in your swim workout before work.

By the way, my "90 minute run" this morning turned into a "78 minute run" with a few little sore spots. I jumped into the ocean after for a few minutes, because my legs are fried from yesterday's ride.

Don't quit on yourself!

An epic ride

Today, training plans changed a little. What began as a planned 130km ride turned into a 165km ride... It was peer pressure, I tell you! I was with Dean and the Tri One club.
Actually, it was one of those days, where the weather cooperates enough, and time for a little adventure. It has made me wonder if I should bring my camera along with me sometimes on these rides. We rode through the Ft. Langley area and around the old horse farms.

The last three hours on the ride were a steady stream of uphills and rollers. Of course, my first thoughts at each hill were "oh not another one", but as they continued on, I started to change my thoughts, and consciously made myself say "this is good for training". My whole attitude changed, as did my effort level on the hills. So, thus endeth my first practice of mental training.

All told, with breaks, we were out there for almost eight hours. After the ride, I had a scheduled 10 minute brick workout, which means running post-bike. I actually was quite amazed at how good I felt. No, not "fresh legs" good, but definitely a lot better than I would have imagined. It's not a lot of running, but after a long bike ride, the period of time required to convert your legs from biking to running is about 10-20 minutes. After the 20 minute mark, you start to feel like a runner again.

There are epic days, and this was one of them. This is my longest ride since Ironman 2002. It is the first indication I have had that makes me feel like the Ironman is, again, within reach. In 2002 I got that confidence boost in July. This year, it's coming in May. I'll take the pay advance.

John Collins, one of the creators of the Ironman in Hawaii, says "You can quit at any time - if you don't you win."

I think our brains quit on us far before our bodies will. And I don't even think of a DNF as quitting. Sometimes you just cannot continue. But, in a race, you have the option of pushing a little harder or backing off. When we get into our survival mode, we tend to back off early. We pull up. I think the worst thing that can happen in life is to sell ourselves short on what we're capable of. I have stopped focusing on my time for Ironman. I have no idea what to expect from that day. I figure I have the ability to break 11 hours, and I also have the potential to break 10 hours. Actually, I feel as though I have limitless potential.

I'm training at a level now that, on a good day with no flats (knock on wood) should yield me a sub-11 performance. More importantly, I'd like to know that going in, that I have prepared for that result. But over the next few months, I'll break the race down into a few smaller pieces and determine my plan for each. If I execute the plan and don't accept not following the plan, the results will speak for themselves.

I think of being successful as being at peace, taking what happens, learning from it, and applying it to how you perform the next time. Putting ourselves into the position to win is being successful. And being true and authentic to those actions and activities that are in line with what we passionately believe we are meant to do. Not to get too narcissistic, but I am obviously quite fortunate to have the endurance and physical body to be able to run marathons, ride for hours, swim miles, and so on. I'm not the only one able to do this The fact of the matter is that there are those out there who are have far more skill right now than I do. But I know, too, that there is a small margin between what my body is capable of and what there's is. The differentiating part of the equation is their desire and commitment, and years of service. And, throughout this whole process, I realize that this is the most important factor. Desire and a willingness to do whatever is necessary to improve and excel, not including cheating (drugs, etc.), but that's a story for another day.

I've said before that their are a myriad of reasons not to do something, but when the compelling reasons to do something, like Ironman, or studying for a degree, or developing your family, override the easy reasons not to (I will lose my drinking nights with the boys, I will have to wake up early, etc.) then we do what we must and, to do any less, is letting ourselves down.

Eddie (Danny & Ben) would go

Forgive me this indulgence for today... The story below was one that our cousin, Danny Epp, was very interested in. He identified himself with Eddie, and many of his friends felt he possessed many of the same qualities. Danny died in a snowboarding accident earlier this year.
At my grandfather's funeral, this story was brought up as well, as a description of how my grandfather lived.

It's a little deep for a Friday musing, but when I got this last night I thought it seemed appropriate for a blog about living life to its fullest...

EDDIE WOULD GO
By Corky Carroll
There is a saying in big wave surfing circles. "Eddie would go." It is used mostly when somebody chickens out of a big wave take off at the last minute, or as a gage to determine if a wave, or a surfing session, is rideable or not. The Eddie that is being referred to in this saying is the late Hawaiian big wave surfer and waterman Eddie Aikau.

Eddie Aikau was one of the premier big wave surfers on the twentieth century. During my prime, which was the sixties and early seventies, Eddie was the top dog at Waimea Bay on the North Shore of Oahu. I can remember being out there with him numerous times when it was so big that I was scared out of my mind. But he never was, and somehow that sort of had a calming effect. It was like "Geeze, Eddie's just having a good ol' time out here so I guess it must not be all that dangerous." But it was and we all knew it.

Eddie was just confident in his big wave ability and his skills as a waterman and swimmer and that put him in a state of mind that was much better suited to taking off on hair raising monster waves than most of the rest of us. There were guys that had the water skills but lacked the surfing ability. They would take off but they would usually eat it or just stink bug stance it into the channel. Then there were the great surfers who lacked the swimming and waterman skills that you really need to ride extra large surf. They usually had the sense to not go out there in the first place. Eddie had what it took in both areas and that is why he was in his own league pretty much of his own. Guys came later that had it all, but it was a rare thing in the early big wave riding days. George Downing had it too. I was sort of in that weird little gray area where I had the wave riding ability and the desire but was not all that confident in my breath holding skills. I could usually stay down about five seconds and that was in a warm bathtub. So I rode big waves but I was scared a lot of the time and tried not to take too many really crazy chances.
I liked surfing with Eddie because for one thing he was a lot of fun to surf with. He had a happy attitude and a good sense of humor. It's always good to be able to make a joke when a killer close out set is just getting ready to smoke you. Might as well die laughing.

Eddie continued to ride big surf and was a lifeguard at Waimea Bay and on the North Shore, probably the most dangerous lifeguarding job on the planet. He was a great paddler and sailor. He also had the support of one of the greatest Hawaiian families that I ever had the privilege to know. His father, Sol Aikau, has been a tireless volunteer at Hawaiian surfing meets for decades and is the nicest dude there is. His younger brother Clyde is also a great surfer and runs a surfing school on the beach at Waikiki.

In March of 1978 Eddie was a crew member of the ill-fated voyage of the Hawaiian voyaging canoe Hokule'a. During a stormy night at sea the canoe was swamped and the lives of its crew were in danger. Eddie, being the fearless waterman that he was, volunteered to paddle the surfboard that he had brought along for help. It was twenty or so miles across gale force rages seas to the tiny island of Lanai to try and get help. It seemed that Eddie was the only hope to save the crew. At 10:30 A.M. on March 17, 1978 Eddie set out. A few hours later a plane spotted the overturned canoe and the crew was rescued. They never found Eddie. The surfing world as a whole cried. I know I did. What a sad day for every one that knew him and for Hawaii. Eddie was as Hawaiian as you could be, through and through.

It all starts with belief...

There are only two mistakes one can make along the road to truth; not going all the way, and not starting.
- Buddha

It's amazing to think that it is over five months into 2006 already. I feel like I woke up yesterday and it was January 1. It was winter, the air and water was cold, the indoor trainer was my best friend, the sun set at 5pm, and any workout was a good workout. I made a few challenges to myself to start the New Year:
1) To make this year something memorable.
2) To try something new.
3) To savour each moment.
4) To be 100% committed to those things I was committed to.

I started off the year with a pledge and a commitment, with a friend of mine, to take an ocean dip every weekday for as many days as possible. It started off with a friendly dare to jump in the ocean on January 2nd... And it turned into a streak of consecutive days, lasting all the way until the end of March. Now, in truth, there were a couple of days in there where it was not possible to get a plunge in and, in those cases, the rule became to go in twice the next day. But, all in all, it became something of a mark of pride to get the guts together to get out of my work clothes and jump into very cold water, during fairly cold mornings - of which we have had a few - for a few minutes. Often, I would go up to my waste only, but occasionally the need was there to dunk myself completely.

I tell you, nothing gets you up faster than a jump in the cold ocean...

Why did we do it? Honestly, I think it just was something to break up the monotony of each day. After all, how can you take things so seriously when you are jumping in the ocean for no good reason? People would stare at me sometimes on the beach. Dogs would go running in after me as though I had found a stick or something...

I loved it, though. It gave me something fun and playful to do each and every day, despite wind, rain, snow, and cold. It was just that... playful...

I haven't gone much lately. Life has gotten a little busier, the enthusiasm to play has become overshadowed by the need to train more and use my time more effectively. If you recall earlier blogs, I was also boxing at this time too. Well, I stopped that at the end of March as well. The time commitment to do it all (box and train for Ironman) became too much.

But, in the end, I think that it was great to have that time, to just play around a little, and not take things too seriously. And now I know, whenever I need a break, I can just go for a plunge in the ocean.

So, five months have passed. I have friends who started out in January training for the Boston marathon - although it could be argued that they started training for Boston the moment they laced up their first pair of running shoes - who have now completed it. I took a Spanish Class, salsa dance lessons, and my brother got married. Some unexpected heartbreaks already as well, and the loss of my grandfather to cancer, a cousin to a snowboarding tragedy and a friend to an avalanche.

Life moves so quickly, and I have the great fortune of having had few times in my life where I have watched it pass by without engaging myself. This year, so far, I have savoured some wonderful moments already, I've had joy and sadness in a heartbeat, I have seen progress in my Ironman preparation, and I have tried new things. This is a mid-year checkup, and so far, it's been a pretty full year.

The Ironman is coming up fast, but there's a lot of moments in between to savour, and if the first five months are to be viewed as an indicator, then the next five are exciting to ponder as well.

The common-held belief is that we improve ourselves through consistent practice, and not through one-off's and quick fixes. The desire to compete in the Ironman and the ability to do it come at very different moments. The desire creates the momentum to start the change that the body needs to make in order to be able to do the Ironman.

All these New Year's Resolutions and goal setting and all that have their roots in a desire to be more, learn more, and become more. Where we get derailed is when we cease to believe we can do something. It's easy enough to be disillusioned, but what makes the true hero is the person who feels disillusioned, heartbroken, hurt, and has his or her belief challenged and tested, who is able to take that and turn it around, and push forward to the next challenge, the next obstacle.

I remember the people who become successful at any sport, business venture, relationship, etc. (actually, pretty much anything). They all have stories of perservering and many feeling, at one point, like giving up for good. Richard Branson was not made rich on his first go with a business idea... Couples in strong, great relationships, have had their share of relationship mistakes along the way... And athlete's ALL have failed at one point. Most people who qualify for the Boston marathon spend years running marathons before they qualify, and I often tell people to be patient and stick to the process when training to qualify for Boston. It doesn't happen in one four-month program... It takes years of marathon running for the majority of us - it took me 3 years of marathon running and 5 years of running to qualify and, although many people I know think of me as a "Boston marathon runner", about 5 years ago I struggled to break 4 hours and 30 minutes, and the Boston marathon was not even a pipe dream.

My point, for myself and anybody out there, is that you have to start somewhere, but that the process itself may take a lot longer than we may want. I am shooting for a pretty high goal this year, but I admit I will have to be happy getting a solid training regime in. Ironman, for those who want to get better and better, is not a one year thing. It's a process. I realize it will take three years, even more, to get even close to my potential, and that's assuming that I keep the training up and keep trying. Four years away from my first Ironman is a long time to allow to pass, and I'm really starting fresh again...

And we should all be this patient. Those of us training for Ironman this year will have a result this year. It may not be the result we wanted, but it will be a result. What we learn from that is what we use to try again the next time, and the next, and the next, until it is no longer desirable to do this sport, and then we'll take what we've built, a strong, athletic physical body, and turn it somewhere else, and try to improve in that activity... It's a wonderful cycle. But I'm going to go all the way until I qualify for the Kona Ironman and run it. That's the plan, that's the dream, and that's the quest. I won't stop until I am in Kona, at the starting line, some October down the road. And that's why the quote from Buddha (above) found it's way into my blog today... even if by an accidental google search for something else.

And, when I need a refresher course on why, I'll start going for a plunge in the ocean again, daily, to remind myself that it's just good to go and play outdoors..

Nutrition talk

Ooh, this is one of the topics that makes me cringe. A conversation about nutrition is akin to a conversation about the many facets of everybody elses relationships... It just drains me to think about it.

So, I have decided it's time to keep it simple, stupid. Rather than overwhelming myself and my brain with thoughts of "body cleanses" and strict veggan diets, all of whom I admit would probably be useful and add years to my life, I'm going to just break it down to the basics:

1) Always eat my breakfast. I have a habit of skipping this in lieu of an extra half hour of sleep. I know how important that is. Especially since I am starting to swim more in the morning. I am going to eat a little fruit, and a cup of yogurt, before that swim workout.
2) After my morning workout, a little more substantial. A real breakfast. Eggs, cereal, etc. Something to replenish me from the workout in the morning, and get me through the day.
3) Lunch - something light. A salad with a little chicken, or soup and a half sandwich. A little meat.
4) Afternoon - some nuts or a protein bar, a pre-workout quick snack.
5) Dinner - post workout... A bigger meal but focus more on having more salad, etc.

I also will carry food during all bike sessions, depending on the length.

Just keep it simple. I've eliminated the fast food other than a Subway sandwich or Quizno's already, but I still just need to keep the food steady and purposeful.
Try to eat right 80% of the time, and allow myself the 20% for indulgences (i.e. gelato and hot dogs!)

There ya go, done... Cut to commercial, and problem solved... Right?

Comments welcome :).....

Mental focus...

"Dear Abby"...

I've lost a little focus. I'm feeling a little bit of that duldrum that lies when you are on a long trip... I need my second wind!

The Vancouver marathon was supposed to be an accelerant for the month of May and get my juices going towards Ironman. Instead, I have been feeling lethargic and I even am fighting off a cold. I'm sucking back the Cold FX pills like candy... So, what SHOULD I have expected? It's a marathon, for crying out loud, not a 5k training run.

This post-marathon training malaise, of course, has me breaking back into old habits... Late nights up, although the last couple of nights I have been engaged in online msn conversations with friends (no, I'm not looking for dates or anything) until late hours and that hasn't helped. But I have also eaten poorly and, in addition to the cold, reverting back to a coffee-laiden hydration plan.

But today, I am sitting here eating an apple.... For those who know me, you may be able to picture a donut more easily... and drinking a glass of water instead of a cup of coffee. I have a vacation for a week in California and I plan to do a lot of short runs and a lot of swimming. They have a great outdoor pool in Santa Barbara, and also there are two group ocean swims planned with the Santa Barbara Triathlon Club. I even have a short 5k running race planned for Wednesday night... Aside from that, I'll be lying on the beach, jogging on the beach, playing golf, reading a book, hanging out with friends, and studying the meaning of it all (dharma bum-talk for vegging out)...

Back to the first comment, though. Eating this apple...

Sometimes it really is quite overwhelming, I'll admit. The training takes so much time and, in some cases, can seem quite lonely. With all the support around me, I still find, sometimes, that I am going it alone. I think part of me likes that, and hates it at the same time. It's similar to liking to "be busy" but lamenting the fact that I have no time to chill out. It's both a burden, a mission, a lifestyle and an inspiration.

The apple, again... How lucky I am to just have an apple to eat! There are so many reasons to be disenchanted with your life, to see all the wrongs and ills and setbacks and go "why me?"
Wait a second... That's just preposterous.

It's not a burden, it's a pleasure. It's a lifestyle. The lonely moments let me reconnect with who I am, and times with my training partners provide a unique social element that connects people of different backgrounds with a common desire in a powerful, life affirming way...

It's good to carry a positive attitude, but I also think that a positive attitude needs to also have a bit of anger or, at least, a sense of determination that you're not satisfied. In a sport where "base training" and "long, slow, duration... duration... duration" are mantras all too often preached, it is difficult to get over-excited. A lot of the motivation has to come from within, which is what makes the rather monastic approach to an Ironman all the more difficult, and also all that more rewarding. The only expectation belongs to you (or me), not anybody else. Get up, go for a ride... Get up early, go for a swim... These are all our personal goals each and every day.

On our training runs, rides, swims, etc. we're always keeping our heart rate down, forcing ourselves not to push too hard. The key in Ironman is always feeling like you can give a little more... and then not giving it. How frustrating!?

Gordo Byrn, the author of "Going Long" (a great book on Ironman training), says that the key to a well-paced race is feeling like you could have gone faster on the bike.

It seems rather counter-intuitive to life, though. How, on earth, can we live thinking we can always do a little more? And then, the problem with that question is that we can ALWAYS do a little more, get a little more. Be a little more than we are...

Training teaches us to focus on the task at hand, and not to get too far ahead of ourselves. There is a process, there are days to get workouts in, regardless of how you feel that day. If you question that attitude, realize that you still have to go to work despite not being "up to going to work" today.

We have to stick to the gameplan. A 2 hour ride today, a run yesterday, a swim tomorrow. Get some weights in, and do my yoga... Just stick to the plan...

I guess what I'm saying to myself is, "Get over yourself... Don't take yourself so god damn seriously!"

And finish your friggin' apple!

Leg burning...

Last night I was out on our tempo ride with Dean and the Tri One crew... At least, the Vancouver contingent of it, since many of Dean's clients are on the North Shore... We had Steve and Walter out there, and Dean, who is quite a good cyclist. He can dart forward and back to catch up with all of us on a whim, it seems.

In my athletic career, I started out chasing people while training for a marathon. There were always a few people faster than me, and it made it a little easier, because I always had someone to try to get as fast as. As I improved, I started to realize that I was the guy that people were chasing. At that point, I felt that I needed to change groups, and find a group that I still couldn't quite keep up with.

The reason that I write that is that I am glad I've found that group with cycling. I'm not too proud to admit that Walter and Steve, the other two in our Monday night bike crew, are much better as cyclists than I am. In fact, it is almost ridiculous how MUCH better they are. The comfort I have is knowing that both of them have been cycling for years and, to be honest, my cycling started in 2002, and I barely did any from 2003 to 2005.

Riding with this group, I feel as though I have something to aim towards. I need to get stronger and more efficient as a cyclist, as the effort level that I put into my riding seems quite over-excessive for the results I get, when compared to them. In running, it's like watching someone who looks like running is effortless. In swimming, well, you can tell the difference right away from a swimmer to a guy who has the form down, but not the fluidity of experience.

While I am at the back of the pack in this group, the drive to get to the front of the pack will motivate me even further. It did last night. I pushed my heart rate at 165-170 bpm, which is not usual for me on a bike, and represents about 80% of my maximum. I pushed it for a good 35 minutes.

My legs felt quite tired when I started the ride last night, having ridden for over 5 hours on Sunday and still in recovery from the marathon. Dean, of course, was not very consiliatory. "I told you not to run hard. You said 'I'll take it easy and try for 3:30' but you went out at a 3:10 pace." Point taken. I'm paying for it still...

Today, though, my legs feel great. I almost feel like I had the opportunity, with a harder ride, to flush out the "bad legs". I feel more energized than I have in a week.

Vince forwarded me this article on lactic acid, and the mythology surrounding its "demonization."

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/05/16/health/nutrition/16run.html?ex=1148443200&en=3be6113bf4079495&ei=5070&emc=eta1

It is an interesting article...

The yoga plan is off and running. I tried it yesterday morning and I felt quite wasted afterwards and for most of the day. But, I attribute that to the first day, and still having the remnants of a "too hard" marathon.

Tonight, I'm going to try a one hour run for the first time since the race, and then I have a date with an "easy" 3000 meter swim workout at Vancouver Aquatic Center. That should get me to 10pm and just in time for bed... I can't wait until next week, when the outdoor pools open at Kits and 2nd Beach!

Yesterday's workout:

Bike: 2 hours (with 2 15-20 minute tempo rides at 80% of my maximum HR).

Yoga: 1 1/2 hours of power yoga... I slept like a baby!

The Wisdom of Yogi Berra...

Yogi Berra, one of the all time best catchers for the New York Yankees, also has some profound stories and quotes... Last Friday Yogi Berra turned 81 years old. I came across this one today:

Yogi went to a pizza parlor and ordered a large pie...

The man behind the counter asked if he wanted cut into 8 slices or 4....

"Yogi replied, "Better make it 4... I don't think I could eat 8"

As a running coach for the past 5 year I have learned a lot of valuable lessons in teaching the basic facets of running a marathon... I think, as my experience grows in the Ironman, my own philosophy comes more and more down to this mantra:

Make things easier to to accomplish... Don't we gain confidence from completing tasks and getting things done?

Now, I see the idea... Make smaller pieces and you can make it easier? Well, true, but then you have to think about 7 more pieces. However, if you just think about the Ironman as "Swim, Bike and Run", then the rest of the details work themselves out. It's a pretty simple game when it comes down to it. You swim, then you bike, then you run. Figure out how to do each one and you can do the Ironman. Become really good at one of those three and you might win the Ironman.

From another baseball story, Bull Durham... "This is a simple game... You throw the ball, you hit the ball, you catch the ball..."

So, the next time you are faced with a big race situation, long ride, or a major workout session...

Cut it into 4's....it's easier than 8's.

Weekend training report

Drinking... some dancing... some more drinking...
Okay, that was most of the weekend, as I was at my brothers wedding all day Saturday.

BUT, fear not, my merry band, I did, in fact, get a nice ride in on Sunday. And "nice" it was. The weather was absolutely outstanding. After lamenting that I would be missing my first chance to ride the Ironman course, I managed to put together a wonderful little jaunt from Kerrisdale, to Horseshoe Bay, to Deep Cove, and back up to Kerrisdale. All by way of a short stop at Kits Beach for a beer with my brother and his new wife, and a stop in Deep Cove for some Honey's donuts... The donuts, I have to say, MAKE the ride.

But the beer at Kits didn't hurt either. And, after all that, I truly realized what a joy it is to bike when the sun is out, the weather is warm, and you can relax and enjoy the whole process. Biking with a hangover, even, seems okay in the sun...

Total time? 5 hours 30 minutes
Total distance? Your guess is as good as mine

Plan for today: bike workout with Tri One Multisport at 6:20pm...

Get used to that biking... Forward or back and what's the seat angle?

I am constantly dissatisfied...

I know there HAS to be a better way...

But I can't get no satisfaction.

I am referring, obviously, to my bike fit...

I have it set up for road cycling now. And, it seems to be serving me well, but I do feel like there is something not "quite" there. I believe this is also a bit of a testimonial to my lamen's knowledge of bicycle science. When it comes to running, I can tell you ten ways on Tuesday to make your running style more efficient for your body type, and find you a pair of shoes to go with the suggestion. That's years of Running Room training (or, as we used to say on the job, "trial by making mistakes") to thank for that.

But on a bike, I am hopeless. I just don't have the knowledge base, yet, to make informed choices about how my bike should feel. It has always felt good, and then I get it refitted and it feels a little better. Then better, then worse, then better... well, you get the idea.

So, I turn to the experts and, like in running, or medicine, or anything other than the eternal truth that falling out of a tall building could cause bodily harm (and even that seems to have its skeptics), the experts are conflicted. Which leaves the lamen biker - me, for those playing at home - with little more than unquestioning faith in the person doing the fitting.

The problem with that is that I am not blindly faithful and, looking around, there does not seem to be a standard for bike fitting out there. There is the F.I.S.T. certification (Fit Institute SlowTwitch) which seems to have some level of industry recognition. But otherwise, heck, give me a protractor and an angled ruler and I could claim this for myself.

I have started doing research and checking out websites for information. I find that the www.slowtwitch.com website is a good source, as they have some technical articles. What I dislike about most of these websites and articles is that they tend to get into the gobble-de-goop techie talk that, again, silly arts boy like me can't quite figure out. And the one's that do explain things in less legal-ese are ambigious "Road cycle set-up is best with this seat angle... unless, of course, you are a + b - c (which I can't figure out if I am our not)"... The only thing I know is that I am not a short woman and not a tall Clydesdale... Does that make me the "typical average male"?

Ah, so what is a boy to do? Seek references.... I now have a few. But, again, this is like going on a blind date. It is nerve racking, and I don't want to get a WORSE position than what I have now and spend the next few months trying to figure out how to get back to a feeling I had before. All in all, I figure I have to find a plan and stick with it. So, my thoughts are to turn to my coach, who is already planning out the rest of my life up to August (after that I have to go back to self-reliance for my social life again). He does fit bikes, and I figure if I let him do it then he'll take some pride in it since he knows he'll have to hear my feedback on the long rides for hours if he messes me up. Better that than someone who doesn't have to deal with you again if he/she's wrong.

That means that I have to follow my own advice:

"Shut up, listen, and have some faith it'll all be fine..."

Cass at the "Boston Alumni Association" aid station (mile 24) of the Vancouver Marathon...

P.S. The shortcut led to False Creek!

Truely restless...

I feel like a cocooned butterfly right now. Mentally I am ready to jump into the fray and get a hard speed session going tonight, but physically, my foot is still hurting, my calves are still a little tight, and I have a nagging pain in my butt.

With restlessness comes bad sleeping, which is okay because the Oilers/San Jose hockey game was on last night and I managed to have the energy to stay up until the triple-overtime finale, all while surfing the 'net for information on bike fitting and chatting with some guy from the Santa Barbara Triathlon Club about the best place to ship my bike down for my vacation later this month.

I am a self-professed "tri-geek". I wear that label with a secret bit of pride (if you have to be a geek, mind as well go for it 100%). If I can't do it, I'll read about it any way I can.

There are some great books out there that I have found got me going. I used to teach my running clinic participants that, if you want to improve your running, learn about it. I think the secret to long-lasting running and triathlon improvement is through learning. You can't blindly do your training without having at least some rudimentary idea of what you are accomplishing with each training run. Don't just trust the coach or instructor, but learn why he/she follows this philosophy and how it works.

I think that the passion you bring to the sport helps keep you motivated in this way. I love reading about baseball players who know statistics and the historical significance of teams and players. Because I love baseball, it helps me relate when I hear of an athlete who not only is one of the best at the game, but also cares about the lore behind it.

Reading books about running helped me become a better and more complete runner. We used to sit around the Running Room, when I was the manager, and break out Tim Noakes "Lore of Running" encyclopedia and compare the training programs in it. Yes, we're talking the next level of "geekitude" here. After a while, it became the Jack Daniels Running Formula. Aside from the pure comedy involved in that title, this book let us compare interval times to relative race times. Thus, my training partners Kenji, or Paul, or whomever would say "you should be able to do a X:XX marathon with those kind of intervals." And we actually would believe that. Of course, on paper, Detroit should win the Stanley Cup, so that shows you how much the "theory" means sometimes.

But statistics, miles splits, heart rate data, transition times, training plans, formulas, average caloric intake/hour, body fat measurements, weight loss after a workout, etc. are all part of sport-jock discussion that gives us new and interesting ways to rehash the same old stuff. I can't count how many times I have bought a new book and read the same information from a different author, just to see the advice given from a different perspective. I suppose that is what keeps our breakfast post-run discussions so lively.

So, I have to go for a run tonight... If I don't, I fear I'll be up again until 1am looking up information on power cranks again and contemplating an online order for a disc wheel... Or I'll reread the Triathlete Magazine again (for the fourth time this week).

It's dangerous to keep me caged up!

Time for some "Ommmmmm....."

D.O.M.S.

Delayed Onset Muscle Soreness... Know what that is?

Scientifically, DOMS results from microscopic muscle fiber tears during extra strenuous exercise. Most people who start an exercise program for the first time experience this effect and it usually lasts about three days or so.

Basically, it's a signal that the activity you just performed is beyond your training level at this point. And, the reason I bring it up, is that I am on Day Three after the marathon and my legs are still in some pain.

I was hoping to be back up and going by yesterday, but I could still barely walk up and down stairs and, today, my quads are still quite tired and my hip flexors are sore.

Generally, DOMS will last about 3-7 days, and stretching, low-impact activity and massage are suggested treatments. I am not panicking, but I am at the point now where I am not training, and that has me a little anxious again. I really don't have the time to sit around and spend a month recovering, as I would normally do after a marathon.

I tried to spin on the trainer last night and had to stop after about ten minutes. I have asked my coach to help me figure out some times to start going to yoga again. We both agree that this is a sign that I: a) pushed too hard on Sunday and b) am not stretching enough. Yoga should help stretch me out a little more and help me handle the next stretch of training, where I'll be doing 140k+rides on most weekends, and more long runs. I am going to aim for 2-3 yoga sessions each week. And, truthfully, the last time I was on a regular routine for yoga, I managed to knock 16 minutes off my personal best for a marathon, so I can't argue with the results. This year, the stakes are getting higher.

Well, I wanted to know what I would learn from the marathon...

Epic...

An Epic.
Something hidden in the ancient past.
Something dangerous now unfolding.
Something waiting in the future for us to discover.
Some crucial role for us to play.

How familiar does that sound if you're training for an Ironman?

I know people training for their first Ironman, and people training for their 10th, and everybody is telling their story. It comes in a race report, or a phone call at night describing what happened in a workout, or downloading your heart rate data to a blog. It sounds so trivial, but this is us, humans, opening ourselves up and making something significant out of our journey.

It is not the Ironman itself, or the climb up Everest, or the runner trying to run 300 miles straight. It is the story behind it. It is the "reason," the chain of events that lead to this decision, and the preparation required to get there.

And we all believe ours is important. And, of course, we are all correct in believing that. So, anytime someone seems to be boring me with another story of their 30k run in the park, or a race report I have heard a thousand times over, or another blog with another person's journey described in excruciating detail, I believe this is our form of expression of who we are.

The Ironman was not created by accident. It was put out there as a challenge to people all over the world. "Can you do this?" And all of us who attempt it for the first time say, affirmatively (and with our chequebook and signature, mind you) "Yes, I can do this." Then, when we've done it, we think "Can I do it better?"

The course and the past are laid out behind us. Peter Reid, Lori Bowden, Tim DeBoom, all the Ironman "legends" out there for us to follow. The great thing is that, at 6:59am on race day, we all line up at the same rope in the water, waiting for a cannon to start our day. At 6:59 we are all identical... At 7:00am, we are all unique.

This fits the definition of "epic." Even if you are a hero to nobody but a 4 year old watching from the beach thinking you look funny in a wetsuit... You're still part of an epic tale. An article will be written for a magazine about the race you run and, while your name may not be in it, you'll be one of the "soldiers" in the story who goes forth in hot temperatures, gail force winds, or whatever conditions present themselves.

There is a danger now unfolding as we get into the "there's no turning back" phase of the season, and we're all faced with daily trials and tribulations as we prepare, practice and condition ourselves further. For those of us doing Ironman Canada this year, it is 14 1/2 weeks to race day. Our future is not far away. Every day is significant now. While it may seem "trite" and "trivial" recounting interval splits and workout regimes, each is part of a bank account that we must be adding value to each and every day. My coach describes training in that way, as an investment. You have to start early and deposit often in order to reap the greatest rewards. Those who try to cram it all into one month could, possibly, realize their goal, but will benefit far less than the ones who have been putting in the time on a daily basis.

And, talking with others about it is a form of therapeutic debriefing. Sometimes we look for some kind of hidden advice, but most often we're just unloading our training story so we can start fresh the next time. Partly, that's why I am writing this blog. It's a public and rather introspective self-examination, but it also just lets me think "out loud." It's repetitive sometimes, and it's not really much in the way of "reporting", but I figure it's a great way to look back and go "what was I thinking about then?". Because, for me, it isn't about showing up on the day of the race, doing it, and going home after. I like the whole experience of Ironman, from the Parade of Nations and Gyro Park concerts, to the underpants run, to the nervous energy of 2000+ excited souls on race day. It's just a magical moment. There are a few things that give you goosebumps in this world, and Penticton on the last weekend of August presents a myriad of opportunities for that. It is as much a festival and celebration of human potential as it is a race.

And that is why I believe that, to be truly genuine as an athlete at Ironman, you need to put your time in. It makes the race taste a little better, and the reality that it is hard work and dedication that make the athlete, rather than pure talent, is what inspires people. I am inspired by the athlete who works harder than anybody else to make herself/himself better. Far more than the gifted athlete who takes those skills for granted.

Be at the finish line at 11:59pm on the day of the race, and watch as thousands of spectators cheer in the last remaining competitors on the course and push them to glory far greater than most of us ever dream of, and you will see what I am talking about. Ironman makes heroes out of the person who comes in last, and we all appreciate that, whether you come in at 8hrs30minutes, or17 hours and even beyond that, when you hit a finish line, you are somebody's hero... You're playing a role in this epic.

Make sure you look the part!

Mile By Mile

It is just running.

5:00am I set two alarms for waking up. I have been through many situations where one alarm clock is either defective or not loud enough. I have already set out my running gear the night before, in order of how I will get dressed. Shoes on bottom, then socks, then shorts, then heart rate monitor, then bandaids (to avoid the dreaded “nipple chafing”), then Body Glide, then running top (which already has my race number attached with safety pins).

This is the start of the day. Don’t mistake my recounting as though I am setting off to save the world. It is a running race. Nothing more. But also nothing less. This is how it all starts, though. I know this morning will start out cool and rainy. I know I’ll have trouble finding parking. I know that, 1 ½ hours into the race, I’ll be feeling tired and, over the next 2 hours, I’ll entertain thoughts of quitting or walking, or stopping. My legs are going to hurt, a lot. They already feel that way.

5:30am I am dressed. I heat up some oatmeal, eat some yogurt, and put a slice of bread in the toaster. When it is all said and done, I finish eating around 5:45.

I think the endurance race, be it a marathon, ultramarathon, Ironman, or some other extreme endurance event, is a test of our inner courage, sublimity, humility, pain threshold (or lack thereof), and character. It is sometimes difficult to explain to someone not associated with this life why it is important to us to do this. I spoke with someone after the race who was a spectator who said that, after cheering and watching all the runners, she wanted to be out there too, running, and hearing the cheers for her. I don’t think of this as self-absorbed thinking. I think this is really a part of how we long to feel heroic. If watching a race inspires one to want to get on track again and get moving, then we’re all better as a result of that.

6:00am I get into my car and head out for the race. I speak with my Mom and Dad before I go, knowing they’ll be up, and they wish me good luck. My Mom says if it isn’t raining she’ll be out at Mile 21 to cheer me on.

Find the one thing you were meant to do. “Follow your bliss”, says Joseph Campbell. It’s easier said than done sometimes, but something as “simple” as a marathon, with its natural grand nature, inspires and humbles us. I was meant to run a marathon, or two, or, in this case, my twelfth. I tell myself this as I am driving, with my “Killers” CD playing. I started off the morning with Enya to relax me, but now I need something to wake my brain up.

6:20am I park the car at 6th and Cambie. I have decided to jog to the race first so that I have a chance to warm up. It’s lightly raining.

Ultra-endurance events show us something we didn’t know about ourselves. I wonder, at this moment, what I am being shown. When I ran my first marathon, I remember feeling that I could accomplish anything I set my mind to. When I ran Boston, I realized I not only had desire, but some talent as well. When I ran Ironman in 2002, I realized that I had the best friends and family all around me, without whom none of this would ever have been realized. What lesson will I take from this race?

6:35am I arrive at the race site. I’ve decided not to go up to the Terry Fox Statue with the hoards of runners all making each other nervous. It would be nice to say “hi” to the 100’s of people I may know there, but I just want to relax. I’ve decided to hang out at the North Shore Athletics tent with a few of the training friends I know there. I can leave my bag there, get warmed up, and have a cup of coffee before the race.

After Ironman in 2002, I was lost. I felt like Frodo or Bilbo Baggins at the end of The Lord of The Rings. I couldn’t go back. I couldn’t go back to the person that I was before, anticipating something new in a marathon, or the Ironman. I had decided to take a year off of marathons and training. I thought I needed a mental break. I looked at the training and racing as being somewhat trivial. I needed something more. So I looked at school, a new job, new roommates, new relationships, everything new. I expected some great epiphany after Ironman. It didn’t seem to be coming.

7:00am Time for a short jog to loosen the legs again. I go out with Paul Purin, the Clinic Instructor at NSA, and we jog around the block with the rest of the marathoners.

We shouldn’t make the Ironman, or a marathon, out to be more than it is. But we shouldn’t diminish its value either and make it less than what it is. Many think of us runners and triathletes as self-indulgent and ego-obsessed A-type personalities. I do believe we see in others what we fear about the world. Personally, I see most athletes in the light that we have found “one thing” that makes us come alive in all the ways I speak of above. Me? I was going about life, minding my own business, when one day a friend of mine decided he would run a marathon. That was 1997. I was impressed by the challenge the marathon presented. I was then impressed by the challenge the Ironman presented in 2001, and decided to sign up for 2002, without having a road bike, or an ability to swim more than 400 meters. I was ill-equipped for the road ahead.

But I am always nervous about a race. There is a big part of me that doesn’t want to be here. A big part that says it would be WAY nicer to stay in bed, to sleep in until noon, to eat some pancakes, and look out into the cold, rainy Sunday with gleeful comfort that I don’t have to be out there. I could forego all the pain, self-doubt, surefire disappointment and the long, arduous, path of 42.2 km that will, in the end, just take me back to where I started anyway. What a foolish idea this was!

7:29am I am at the starting line with 4000 other runners. My training partner, Walter, is beside me, and we’ve decided on 7:30/mile pace to start. Steve King, the “Voice of Ironman” is announcing the race, which is always special. I love being at races where he is announcing. He adds a knowledge, a sense of humour, and an unmistakable voice to the race that just lets you know that you’re about to start something special.

7:30am We’re off.

I’m back!

I’m an average guy swept up in a reluctant journey. And now I’m doing this for the 12th time.

Mile 1-3 Time: 22min31 seconds. Average Heart Rate 165.
We’re off to the start we planned. It’s a 7:30 pace roughly. The first 2 miles, I am certain, are a little slower. I feel pretty good. My legs are fresher than I thought they would feel, and the pace is comfortable.

Mile 4 I run the next mile in 7 minutes, 10 seconds. I was hoping to increase the pace to 7min15sec/mile, but I’ve gone a little quicker. Walter has held back. Somehow I think that was the smart move. My average heart rate for the mile is 177. Too high.

Mile 5 It is mostly flat or a slight downhill, and I notice immediately as I come through with a 6 min 56 mile. Keep in mind, I need a 7:15 mile average to make a 3:10, and a 7:30 mile to be lower than 3:20. I’m still too fast, and my average heart rate is 177 again.

Mile 6 I’ve slowed down the pace a litte. I’m at 7:10/mile. This is a little better, and I come through the 10km mark around 44 minutes.

Mile 7 A 7:03 mile has me a little cocky now. I believe I can hold this pace and I’ve decided I’m going to try. I’ve started running now with a fellow Ironcops for Cancer team member from Edmonton, and we’re chatting about the Ironman, which helps the time go by.

Mile 8 I push through at a 7:01 mile. By now we’re over the Georgia viaduct and heading into East Vancouver. Again, I feel pretty good, and I decide to try to hold the pace for a bit. My heart rate is around 176 now, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. But I should listen to my heart rate, as it’s telling me that my good feeling is in my head, as I know a 178 heart rate is not sustainable.

Mile 9-11 I push through the next 3 miles in 21:13. Again, it’s a flatter section, and I’m looking at hitting my time of 1:35 with a little to spare. Good work! Except that my heart rate is still hovering at 179.

Mile 12 A 7:10/mile here. I decided to try to get my heart rate under control a little, and I start to breath a little more fully. My heart rate at the end of the mile averages at 176. A slight improvement. My overall time, at this point, is 1:26:17.

Mile 13 A 7:16/mile. This is about the pace I wanted, and it also signifies the entry into Stanley Park. I do feel as though I have slowed slightly but there are also a few little inclines that have started to take their toll. My average heart rate for this mile is around 180, and that’s concerning. Looking at my watch now as I retell this, my AVERAGE heart rate for the first 13 miles was around 178.

I go through the ½ mark in about 1:34:40. That’s about where I wanted to be, and I feel a little tired but not enough to stop me.

Mile 14, I don’t have a split on this but I did hit it at 1:40:56. My heart rate from the halfway mark was 179. We are about to start the hill up Pipeline Road, a deceptively tough hill.

Mile 15. I can feel things starting to go. My groin on my left side started twinging about 4 miles back, and I have felt it get stronger and stronger. Now it seems to have leveled off in it’s discomfort, so I figure as long as I can stick with this pace I’ll be fine. At the end of this mile, though, my time is 7:25. But my heart rate is 169. I’m slowing down.

Mile 16. 7:31. I have a sneaking feeling this will have to be the standard for the rest of the race. I can’t see myself getting back to the 7minute mile and I am running hard again – average heart rate is 179 for this mile.

Mile 17-18. I come through in 15:01, which is perfect considering part of this section is the Burrard Street Bridge. That’s a tough stretch, and holding my pace is something I am happy about. My average heart rate, too, is lower, at 173. The problem, though, is that I am starting to really feel my left leg tiring.

Mile 19. I am holding steady. I run this one at 7:33 and my heart rate is 175. I have managed to pick up a couple of spectators who start running with me (Sasha and Lisa). It’s always nice to get to run with a couple of cute girls for a while, and it definitely helps as I feel better now (they are awesome runners anyway and very upbeat).

Mile 20. I hit this one at 7:46. I knew I was starting to slow down but I now don’t feel as though I can get going any faster. My heart rate is 171. I’m not pushing aerobically as much, but I can’t get my legs moving any quicker and I am sore.

Mile 21. 7:55… The train is starting to derail. I can feel a lot of pain in my legs. One thing that keeps me going is my Mom at the top of the hill on 4th Avenue. Had she not been there I really felt like I could have started walking. But you can’t do that when mom’s watching J. Average heart rate is 171.

Mile 22. Pain becomes an unfriendly companion. I am pushing through it, but I feel that the battle is being lost. I want to slow down, and my pace drops to 8:13/mile. My heart rate is 171. The effort just isn’t there. I don’t know if I can summon it up.

Mile 23. 8:35. Ouch. That is a rude awakening. That, and the fact that my friend, Jerry, has an aid station set up outside his place at the 24 mile marker. I told him if I was on pace to qualify for Boston, I’d be passing by his aid station by now. At this point, I am one mile behind. My heart rate has dropped to 160 for the mile. It’s all leg pain now.

Mile 24-25. I won’t be finished yet. Do I have it in me for 3 more miles? Yes. I can get there. I stop the hemorrhaging and manage a 17:21, which includes the 2nd pass over the Burrard Street Bridge. It’s an 8 min 40 sec average. My heart rate is 166. I pass by Jerry’s station and he and Cassandra (his partner) are there. Cassandra cheers me on, and Jerry does too, but also says “you’re 8 minutes late!” Strange enough, that’s encouraging and motivating. It makes me laugh a little, like I am late for the party. Who needs a clichéd “you’re almost there”? I like it. It’s something to file for the next race. I won’t be 8 minutes late next time. I’ll be early…

Mile 26 (.2). As I come down the final mile, I bring my legs up and start to try to regain some form. I have achieved what I set out to do. I’ve run a marathon after a bike ride, and I’ve run a sub-3:20, which is what I planned to do, and what I had hoped to do. This leg of the journey is complete. I’ve passed my first test. It’s time to recover, have a nap, and start planning for the next test… Victoria ½ Ironman. And I have six weeks until that one.

"I can't believe that God put us on this earth to be ordinary." Lou Holtz

Monday morning meditations and musings...

Wow, am I sore today!

Sometimes, after a marathon, I feel relatively fine. A little tired in the legs but, in general, I am usually up and walking normally. I don't anticipate that happening today. I definitely was in some pain during the race and after. I know that I'm in trouble when, if I move slightly awkwardly while walking around after the race, I feel a shooting pain on the outside of my knee. It lets me know I was, basically, on the "edge".

All that being said, I feel good about the race. Having gone for a short ride the day before, I expected tired legs. I expected a decent first half, and wanted to run at 1:35 (I ran 1:34:45) and see if I could hold that the rest of the way. And, of course, I couldn't. Truthfully, when you aren't training specifically for a marathon, and your long runs have not been any longer than 25k or so since November, you cannot expect much different. So, with that in mind, I got a 3:18, and that is exactly what I asked for (or expected).

Even though I am sore, I truly realize this morning how wonderful it is to be able to run a marathon, and how it is great to see others and share the war stories after. Hitting the Dog Pound (a pub) after the race was great, and being able to chat with everybody about their experiences, the good, the bad, the ugly, and then filling up a garbage can with ice and jumping in to an ice bath, was awesome. If I ever need motivation, I can look to those moments as the ones that will keep me going!

Some Monday morning quarterbacking:
-I am not one to complain and be bitter about something for too long, but I do have to say that I believe the Vancouver Marathon committee MUST rethink how it conducts the race. I thank the volunteers and those folks who were out there. They were awesome. But there really has to be a brain trust up there that just doesn't "get it". First of all, there were several aid stations where water was not ready or was unavailable. Again, I don't blame the volunteers for not knowing what to expect, but the organizers should have a system set up to explain to the volunteers just HOW to be ready. Having no water cups filled and waiting for the runners to come in order to fill the water cups is just short-sighted.
-Second, where were the mile markers? I was absolutely amazed when I passed several points where there SHOULD have been a mile marker and wasn't. I thought I was just missing them, but then I went 3 miles before I saw one. And others told me the same thing, so now I know it wasn't me. How hard is it to have the markers up in a visible way. Again, if I just missed them, I am not the only one.
-Third and, actually, most importantly, where was traffic control? There were cars pulling into the runners and I even heard of a car backing out into one of the lead groups.

So, I have to agree with Vince's blog comments on Vancouver (though I am not as passionate in my tone) and say that they really do need to start thinking of their athletes. I get the impression that they believe we are the lucky ones to have the privilege to run in their race. I know we're lucky to be able to spend our time recreationally in this way, but marathons have a special place in making the experience one where, for between 2 hours and 7 hours, each and every person running that race has the opportunity to feel like a superstar. I think these details take away from that and diminish the experience. I've run enough marathons in big and small numbers to know which marathons truly make you feel special. If these details don't change, I would support looking for alternative race organizers to come in and take over.

There, that's my negative rambling on all this. I don't like to focus on the negatives for too long. I've got my own race to analyze and learn from.

Some learning tools I can take from yesterday:
-Pacing. When competing in Ironman and in the Half Ironman's this summer, starting steady and slowly for the first half would be more beneficial. I really do feel if I had knocked the speed down a little at the start I would have been stronger at the finish. After a bike ride, I know I'll need to keep that in mind. It's easier said than done, because we all get swept up in the moment.
-Race nutrition. I tried the Ultima but I don't know if I enjoyed it that much. I still prefer the Gatorade and E-Load. I also carried the Clif Shots in a gel flask and that was helpful to go to.
-Heart Rate. My average HR was 173 for the race. I think there were some hiccups in there technically (I saw that my max HR was 227 during the race which, despite my Lance Armstrong-like heart, I doubt actually happened). But that seems about right. I'd say that my optimum is to stay at 170 or just slightly below for the first half of a race.
-Post race. ICE BATH!!!! A definite must.
-Pre race. Saturday was a great day to relax and keep my plans familiar. I watched a couple of movies in the evening and, otherwise, just got a haircut through the day. I went to the Running Room to grab a Body Glide and wound up chatting with a friend from the Triathlon Club for a while, which was a nice distraction and kept me from overthinking my race too much.

Happy training folks!

"Ability is what you're capable of doing. Motivation determines what you do. Attitude determines how well you do it." Lou Holtz