On the eve of the Olympic Games, I am growing more anxious in my own endeavours. The beauty of the triathlon season is that we are able to compete from March until November, with many events all over the country on a weekly basis. My next race is Sunday, August 17th, in Gilford, NH. Keith Jordan and Endorfun Sports host Timberman, a 70.3 event. For those of you wondering what 70.3 means, it is a half ironman; Ironman is a masochistic event, consisting of 140.6 miles of swimming, cycling and running. The swim is 2.4 miles, the bike is 112 miles and the run is 26.2 miles. Divide each leg by two, and that's what I'll be doing in two Sundays.
I'm excited for a couple of reasons: one, I love New Hampshire. It's beautiful, and there are colder summer temps than the south, and rolling/difficult terrain. Two, I haven't exactly had the perfect season I had been expecting, so it will be nice to hopefully piece together a good effort. I have prepared quite well for this event (and the rest of my season), having hit some good solid training weeks of 20,000+ meters in the pool, 14hrs on the bike, and north of 60 miles of running.
I was also able to recharge my mental batteries this past weekend in Moultrie, GA, as I attended the wedding of two friends. The wedding, reception, and every event surrounding the weekend was spent with close friends, and I couldn't have asked for a better weekend. I had a phenomenal workout of approximately three hours on the best rope swing known to man. It was blast watching former national caliber divers successfully attempt acrobatics off this contraption. I tried, but failed miserably.
So for now, I am going to begin backing off my mileage and throwing in a bit of intensity in preparation for Timberman. I will keep everyone updated along the way, and maybe even write a blog as I relax before the event.
Until next time, keep your tires rubber-side down...
07 August 2008
17 July 2008
Chattanooga Waterfront Triathlon
Now that I've had some time to reflect, unpack and disinfect, I thought I might write about the race this past weekend:
I was excited to head back to Chattanooga not only to race, but to see my family and friends. My weekend started off better than amazing on Saturday morning as I was walking through the terminal and saw my niece with a huge grin on her face, dressed in purple and toting her suitcase, run to greet me...I could have gone home, never having raced at all, and been a perfectly content man.
After lunch and packet pick-up with my dad and niece, I think all of us were ready for the race.
Race morning. I had a good bike warm-up and was ready to walk the one mile upstream to the swim start with my dad and uncle. It was a nice relief to not have to do the walk by myself, as it helped me keep my mind relaxed. Before I knew it, I was swimming. I had the occasion to be one of the last swimmers to depart, as Team Magic did not have an elite amateur wave, which would come back to haunt me later in the race. Back to the swim, I was happy with the effort. With a quick T1, I was flying out of transition, but about half a mile into the ride, I came up on a beginner triathlete and was passing on the left, but to my surprise, this young lady swerved into me and I had to react by swerving out of her way.
I reacted and almost stayed upright. I hit the dirt (read: asphalt). Upon impact, my brand new water bottles from which I had never taken a single sip, were ejected. After about 30 seconds, I regained my composure and jumped back on my bike, sans nutrition, and hammered. Before I knew it, I was at the bike turnaround. I stopped. I calmly asked the volunteers if they had any fluids, as I had crashed and was depleted.
No luck. "Okay," I said to myself, and put my head down and rode. At about mile 18, I passed a competitor and noticed he had an aerobottle between his aerobars, a bottle on his downtube, seat tube, and a rear hydration rack with two bottles, making roughly 80+ ounces he was carrying on his person. I also notice these bottles were virtually full, as they were made of clear plastic. I slowed down to speak to this man, and gave him a brief recap of my day so far, and begged for a bottle. The man proceeded to tell me he was going to drink the remainder 60+ ounces of fluid with only seven miles remaining, and could spare no juice. Yikes...this man's belly ache might surpass the pain of my crash if he drank all his liquids.
Back to the bike. As I approached the last four miles, I found myself cycling in the hardest rain I have ever encountered on my bike. No big deal. I rode with my mouth open wide to hopefully get enough water in my mouth for a big gulp. I looked dumb.
After the fastest T2 of the day (my dad recorded all my splits) I stopped at the run start to drink as much fluid as I could from the aid station. This would not help. I don't remember running the first mile, and by mile two, the pain in my hip from crashing coupled with zero nutrition in my body from hammering for an hour and a half was enough to cause me to pull the plug. The volunteer said it was a good idea, as he said I looked rather pale. So I'm not "tan." I'm working on it.
As I was given a ride in a cool old jeep back to the staging area, I couldn't help but smile and laugh as I saw my nieces with my race number drawn on their arms and t-shirts by my awesome sister-in-law. This was hands down the best support crew I've ever had at a race, complete with mother, father, grandmother, both brothers, sister-in-law, uncle, nieces and countless friends. I hope I didn't leave anyone out of that count. Moral of the story: thank you so much, it means the world to me.
I was pleased to see my dad compile the race data in an Excel spreadsheet, which indicated that despite my crash, no nutrition, stopping at the bike turnaround, having a conversation with an overly hydrated competitor and cycling through a tropical deluge, I was only a few seconds behind the overall winner as we began the run. "Woulda, shoulda, coulda..." I could whine all day, but it is as useless as a rocking chair; it gives you something to do but it doesn't get you anywhere.
I am motivated, encouraged and ready to race the Timberman 70.3 on August 17. This half ironman is held in Gilford, NH, and I am more than excited to race in cooler temperatures and see how I hold up over this distance.
Until next time, keep your bike tires rubber-side down and share your juice.
I was excited to head back to Chattanooga not only to race, but to see my family and friends. My weekend started off better than amazing on Saturday morning as I was walking through the terminal and saw my niece with a huge grin on her face, dressed in purple and toting her suitcase, run to greet me...I could have gone home, never having raced at all, and been a perfectly content man.
After lunch and packet pick-up with my dad and niece, I think all of us were ready for the race.
Race morning. I had a good bike warm-up and was ready to walk the one mile upstream to the swim start with my dad and uncle. It was a nice relief to not have to do the walk by myself, as it helped me keep my mind relaxed. Before I knew it, I was swimming. I had the occasion to be one of the last swimmers to depart, as Team Magic did not have an elite amateur wave, which would come back to haunt me later in the race. Back to the swim, I was happy with the effort. With a quick T1, I was flying out of transition, but about half a mile into the ride, I came up on a beginner triathlete and was passing on the left, but to my surprise, this young lady swerved into me and I had to react by swerving out of her way.
I reacted and almost stayed upright. I hit the dirt (read: asphalt). Upon impact, my brand new water bottles from which I had never taken a single sip, were ejected. After about 30 seconds, I regained my composure and jumped back on my bike, sans nutrition, and hammered. Before I knew it, I was at the bike turnaround. I stopped. I calmly asked the volunteers if they had any fluids, as I had crashed and was depleted.
No luck. "Okay," I said to myself, and put my head down and rode. At about mile 18, I passed a competitor and noticed he had an aerobottle between his aerobars, a bottle on his downtube, seat tube, and a rear hydration rack with two bottles, making roughly 80+ ounces he was carrying on his person. I also notice these bottles were virtually full, as they were made of clear plastic. I slowed down to speak to this man, and gave him a brief recap of my day so far, and begged for a bottle. The man proceeded to tell me he was going to drink the remainder 60+ ounces of fluid with only seven miles remaining, and could spare no juice. Yikes...this man's belly ache might surpass the pain of my crash if he drank all his liquids.
Back to the bike. As I approached the last four miles, I found myself cycling in the hardest rain I have ever encountered on my bike. No big deal. I rode with my mouth open wide to hopefully get enough water in my mouth for a big gulp. I looked dumb.
After the fastest T2 of the day (my dad recorded all my splits) I stopped at the run start to drink as much fluid as I could from the aid station. This would not help. I don't remember running the first mile, and by mile two, the pain in my hip from crashing coupled with zero nutrition in my body from hammering for an hour and a half was enough to cause me to pull the plug. The volunteer said it was a good idea, as he said I looked rather pale. So I'm not "tan." I'm working on it.
As I was given a ride in a cool old jeep back to the staging area, I couldn't help but smile and laugh as I saw my nieces with my race number drawn on their arms and t-shirts by my awesome sister-in-law. This was hands down the best support crew I've ever had at a race, complete with mother, father, grandmother, both brothers, sister-in-law, uncle, nieces and countless friends. I hope I didn't leave anyone out of that count. Moral of the story: thank you so much, it means the world to me.
I was pleased to see my dad compile the race data in an Excel spreadsheet, which indicated that despite my crash, no nutrition, stopping at the bike turnaround, having a conversation with an overly hydrated competitor and cycling through a tropical deluge, I was only a few seconds behind the overall winner as we began the run. "Woulda, shoulda, coulda..." I could whine all day, but it is as useless as a rocking chair; it gives you something to do but it doesn't get you anywhere.
I am motivated, encouraged and ready to race the Timberman 70.3 on August 17. This half ironman is held in Gilford, NH, and I am more than excited to race in cooler temperatures and see how I hold up over this distance.
Until next time, keep your bike tires rubber-side down and share your juice.
22 June 2008
More wildlife spottings
The great convenience about where I live is the fact that I can walk out my apartment door and run for an hour without touching the same road twice. There are, however, a few cautions to be advised: first, armadillos. They may look cute in a prehistoric "I-can-withstand-a-bomb-blast" way, but don't let these armour-cladden rodents fool you. Legend has it these varmints first carried and spread leprosy. I was running through my barrio the other day when I saw one, and I immediately ran from a smooth heart rate to 200+ beats per minute as I wanted to be no where near this miscreant.
Second: alligators. I know the wildlife quite well surrounding all the ponds/lakes in my neighborhood, and I even have a few "friends" I see on a regular basis. This one day last week was an exception; about 60yds away I spot an odd looking little lizard, which in fact was not little nor was it a lizard, but rather a 3ft+ alligator ready to chomp on my leg. Okay, it wasn't going to chomp on my leg, but it could have, but I did not give it the opportunity as I yet again went from my steady pace running to terminal velocity in less than one second. Additionally, I thought to myself, "This must be a baby gator, which means it probably has a mommy and daddy and a big brother somewhere close." Next time I'm jogging through my 'hood, I shall bring my bayou knife (I just have to buy one first).
Third: I can't really think of anything else, but I did see a raccoon running across the entrance to my neighborhood, and let me tell you, these creatures need some serious work on their running technique. If you've never witnessed these masked bandits running, they look like an obese cat with a shaved tail and a pointy face running with their dairy aires stuck up in the "I just got kicked in the butt" position. Graphic, I know.
Moral of the story is: when you go apartment hunting, make it a point to check the creatures indigenous to your area, especially if you are going to be exposed to them on a daily basis with nothing between you and them except skimpy synthetic fibre running shorts and running shoes.
As for me, life is grand. My training is going splendidly (no details given unless requested). Work is going swimmingly, and my short game is improving due to all the putting and chipping I am doing in the grass next to my apartment.
post scriptum - Let me know if you would like for me to include anything in my writing about my life/training down here in Orlando. I am open to suggestions! I'll be here all week. Don't try the meatloaf...
Second: alligators. I know the wildlife quite well surrounding all the ponds/lakes in my neighborhood, and I even have a few "friends" I see on a regular basis. This one day last week was an exception; about 60yds away I spot an odd looking little lizard, which in fact was not little nor was it a lizard, but rather a 3ft+ alligator ready to chomp on my leg. Okay, it wasn't going to chomp on my leg, but it could have, but I did not give it the opportunity as I yet again went from my steady pace running to terminal velocity in less than one second. Additionally, I thought to myself, "This must be a baby gator, which means it probably has a mommy and daddy and a big brother somewhere close." Next time I'm jogging through my 'hood, I shall bring my bayou knife (I just have to buy one first).
Third: I can't really think of anything else, but I did see a raccoon running across the entrance to my neighborhood, and let me tell you, these creatures need some serious work on their running technique. If you've never witnessed these masked bandits running, they look like an obese cat with a shaved tail and a pointy face running with their dairy aires stuck up in the "I just got kicked in the butt" position. Graphic, I know.
Moral of the story is: when you go apartment hunting, make it a point to check the creatures indigenous to your area, especially if you are going to be exposed to them on a daily basis with nothing between you and them except skimpy synthetic fibre running shorts and running shoes.
As for me, life is grand. My training is going splendidly (no details given unless requested). Work is going swimmingly, and my short game is improving due to all the putting and chipping I am doing in the grass next to my apartment.
post scriptum - Let me know if you would like for me to include anything in my writing about my life/training down here in Orlando. I am open to suggestions! I'll be here all week. Don't try the meatloaf...
08 June 2008
"Om Namah Shivaya"
In the immortal words of John Lennon and the Beatle's song "Across the Universe", "Jai guru deva om. Nothing's gonna change my world..." I am enjoying my Sunday morning.
I was sitting at my lab station last week at work, having a frustrating evening, when I thought of the first time my yoga instructor played the song which is the title of this blog. For no good reason but my own doing, I was in a not-so-chipper mood. I began to chant an internal (A-U-M). The word "Om" has meanings far too numerous to list, but the purpose of my internal chanting was to remove worldly thoughts. For some reason on that particular day, I was the only one and catalyst in my own negative energy. There was nobody else responsible for my thoughts. That being said, the only things with which we can ever have any certainty are our thoughts, words and actions. I am writing this blog on the eve of a previous blog, which I deleted. My dad made me realize I wrote the blog in a reactive manner, and he is right. I accomplished nothing by writing the negative blog other than making my shoulders tense.
Where am I going with this? I just wanted to get some thoughts on paper, rather, a pixelated computer screen, to recharge my thoughts and reset my physical status. Our mental state can have a great impact on our physical lives, and we need to make sure that both attributes are living comfortably and healthy with the other.
Changing topics, I am quite happy with where my training is at the moment. My coach and I have a great game plan for the rest of the season, and I am eager to show you the fruits of our labor on July 13th at the Chattanooga Waterfront Triathlon, in Chattanooga, TN. The fire is burnin' baby.
In closing, I want to again mention my friends at Pedro's. They sent me a tool kit (to say the least) and quite a few bottles of Green lubes, cleaners and other fluids which I have used to fuel one of my passions, which is bike maintenance. My coach has picked up a new client, a promising youngster fresh out of high school, and I used Pedro's gear to overhaul his new bike. I am a big fan of supporting your local bike shop, but a company like Pedro's not only enables you to get your hands dirty by learning how to fix your machine, but saves you a few dollars in repairs costs, labor and fuels costs of driving to your LBS. Thanks guys,
post scriptum - Get yours hands dirty and learn how to tune-up and clean your bicycle. Don't let outside forces out of your control affect your mental state. Listen to "Across the Universe."
I was sitting at my lab station last week at work, having a frustrating evening, when I thought of the first time my yoga instructor played the song which is the title of this blog. For no good reason but my own doing, I was in a not-so-chipper mood. I began to chant an internal (A-U-M). The word "Om" has meanings far too numerous to list, but the purpose of my internal chanting was to remove worldly thoughts. For some reason on that particular day, I was the only one and catalyst in my own negative energy. There was nobody else responsible for my thoughts. That being said, the only things with which we can ever have any certainty are our thoughts, words and actions. I am writing this blog on the eve of a previous blog, which I deleted. My dad made me realize I wrote the blog in a reactive manner, and he is right. I accomplished nothing by writing the negative blog other than making my shoulders tense.
Where am I going with this? I just wanted to get some thoughts on paper, rather, a pixelated computer screen, to recharge my thoughts and reset my physical status. Our mental state can have a great impact on our physical lives, and we need to make sure that both attributes are living comfortably and healthy with the other.
Changing topics, I am quite happy with where my training is at the moment. My coach and I have a great game plan for the rest of the season, and I am eager to show you the fruits of our labor on July 13th at the Chattanooga Waterfront Triathlon, in Chattanooga, TN. The fire is burnin' baby.
In closing, I want to again mention my friends at Pedro's. They sent me a tool kit (to say the least) and quite a few bottles of Green lubes, cleaners and other fluids which I have used to fuel one of my passions, which is bike maintenance. My coach has picked up a new client, a promising youngster fresh out of high school, and I used Pedro's gear to overhaul his new bike. I am a big fan of supporting your local bike shop, but a company like Pedro's not only enables you to get your hands dirty by learning how to fix your machine, but saves you a few dollars in repairs costs, labor and fuels costs of driving to your LBS. Thanks guys,
post scriptum - Get yours hands dirty and learn how to tune-up and clean your bicycle. Don't let outside forces out of your control affect your mental state. Listen to "Across the Universe."
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