Success follows happiness

“Success is not the key to happiness. Happiness is the key to success. If you love what you are doing, you will be successful.”
-- Albert Schweitzer

Many other people are credited with similar quotes, so if this sentiment is so often repeated, one would presume that it carries more than a grain of truth to it. Why then do so few people choose to do what they love for a living? I will be very candid and say I do not love what I do for a living. I take pride in doing my best at everything I do; I am quite capable and competent at what I do; I derive a certain sense of satisfaction in completing an especially hard task or solving a particularly hard problem- however none of these even remotely begin to approach truly loving what I do. I certainly don’t dream of putting together the best revenue forecast ever known to man, or facilitating the most effective Sales and Operations Planning meeting anyone has ever attended. While I may have aspirations to advancing my career, quite truthfully this is driven largely by two factors, a) a competitive drive to excel at whatever I do, and b) quite simply, greed (for lack of a better term). To some degree, it wouldn’t matter if I were a fish sorter. If, through some ‘Twilight Zone-esque’ mechanism I awoke one day and that were the profession in which I found myself, I’d want to be the best damn fish sorter there ever was. I’d also want to be the fish sorting manager, and eventually the President of the entire fish sorting division. Why? Because it would bother me to admit that someone was a better fish sorter than me. I would also covet the financial rewards associated with being the President of the fish sorting division, and I’d want to provide a better life for my family and fund my expensive hobbies, er… pursuits. But make no mistake, these two character traits (or flaws, depending on your perspective) do not equate to loving what one does. Eventually, I believe that a competitive drive alone is not enough to bring happiness. I’m sure I’m not the only one that has, at some point, come to the realization that just ‘being the best’, in and of itself, is not reward enough for the amount of time we all invest in our careers.

We all hear of people that do truly love what they do. I have no doubts whatsoever that Dave Matthews, Tiger Woods, Oprah, Sting, Valentino Rossi all love what they do, and their passion is evident in their success. It’s easy to dismiss this by saying “of course they love what they do- they’re gazillionaires” but before they were ever successful they were passionate about their chosen field. Before Tiger Woods was an international celebrity and a winner of multiple major tournaments, he was just a kid playing golf at Stanford. But Tiger revolutionized the game of golf through his unprecedented work ethic. Sure, he could hit the ball a ton, but Tiger spent countless hours in the gym and on the range and others, like David Duval, took notice and soon half the PGA was on a quest to lose weight and get stronger so they could be like Tiger. My point is that, before any of these people were the successes they are today, they toiled quietly in anonymity and honed their craft until success was inevitable.

I don’t know Tiger personally- or Oprah, Dave, Sting, or Vale, but I do know one person that chose to pursue their passion instead of opting for corporate America and financial comfort, and is now reaping their just rewards. I know this person quite well, in fact. We’re best friends since childhood, college roommates, and he’s the godfather of one of our children. He’s also the coach of the Salesian High School basketball team, which just won their first CIF state championship, and he also celebrated his 250th win this season. Congratulations coach Bill Mellis on an amazing season, and on everything you’ve accomplished so far. I have no doubts that this is just the beginning of your success as a coach. Your passion and dedication to your players and to the game is truly inspiring to watch. It was evident to me and to everyone that knows you that this was what you were cut out to do even back when you were the manager of the Cal basketball team in college. Heck, this is what you were born to do. We’re all cheering for you!

I’ll close with another quote- I think it’s fitting that it’s one from the legendary coach:

“Success comes from knowing that you did your best to become the best that you are capable of becoming.”
-- John Wooden

http://www.insidebayarea.com/timesstar/prepsports/ci_11970279

One door closes, and another opens

Being the anal-retentive type-A that I am, I always have to have a plan before I set out to attempt anything. My wife, on the contrary, loves to set out with a goal (of sorts) in mind but absolutely no notion whatsoever of how to get there. We both get tremendous satisfaction from solving problems in our own ways, and can get very frustrated with the opposite approach. Fran relishes the adventure and discovery of making it up as she goes along and being surprised by the outcome. I love formulating a crystal-clear vision of the end result in my mind, often reworking the end product in my head countless times until it's perfect, and then developing the perfect process to get to the goal so I'm not surprised by what I get. We both drive each other absolutely nuts in this regard. This is a typical Saturday morning conversation for us:

Wifey: "Let's do some landscaping in the front yard"
Me: "OK, let me get a pencil and paper and we can sketch some stuff out"
Wifey: "No, let's just go to the nursery and look around"
Me: "But how will we know what we need if we don't have any idea what we're trying to do?
Wifey: "That's the fun of it- let's just go look around and see what we like"
Me: "How will we know if we like it, if we don't know what we're trying to do?"
Wifey: "Let's just see what happens"

That last line, "let's just see what happens" has become an inside joke of sorts between us. Whenever I get to wrapped around the axle on something Fran will say "let's just see what heppens" and that's my cue to mellow out a little bit.

When I decided to make the commitment to return to racing triathlons for the 2009 season, one of the first things I did was lay out a season training plan (complete with Excel spreadsheets, of course). The season was divided into roughly three phases that took me through my "A" race of the year- the Vineman Half Ironman in July.

The first phase, which started right after Thanksgiving, had one very simple goal. Just work out. It didn't matter what I did or how I did it. It was all about just getting my body and mind used to a daily routine that included working out again. All I wanted to see was something, anything, in the training log every day. It was basically about testing the commitment. Phase I concluded at the end of December, and it was a resounding success. I was loving working out again. I wasn't calling it training yet, it was just working out. It was supposed to be fun- and it was a blast.

Phase two started in early January, and ended yesterday. This was the "offseason" portion of my training plan. It was a bit more structured, both in terms of what I did and when I did it. I started adding some speed work to my runs and rides, started introducing some weekly 'long' rides and runs, and started structuring my weekly routine so that it more closely resembled what a weekly training plan would look like. There were some more specific objectives as well:

1) Shed the holiday baggage- I've now managed to lose 15 pounds in the last four months, and I'm at the lowest training weight that I've ever been at. In fact I'm only 3 pounds heavier than my best racing weight. I feel fantastic, and my knees thank me every time I run.

2) Get some serious swim instruction- this is something that I've always told myself I needed to do but always thought of a million reasons why I didn't do it. I've always been a horrible swimmer, and not surprisingly the swim has always been the least enjoyable of the three disciplines for me. I finally bit the bullet and started working with a coach six weeks ago, and the difference is nothing short of astounding. Becoming a more proficient and more confident swimmer has (surprise) allowed me to love swimming for the first time. I find myself waking up at 5:30 to go swim most mornings, and I'm in the water at least five times a week now. I honestly can't believe I'm in the place I am with swimming. I'm still not fast by any stretch of the imagination, but for the first time ever I have an understanding of what I need to do, and I have a coach that will get me there.

3) Continue the commitment- Phase I was about doing something every day, but in order to get to the level I wanted to get to I knew I'd need to eventually be doing double workouts most days. In my last few seasons leading up to Vineman 2004, I had the occasional 12-14 hour training weeks, but most of my weeks were in the 6-8 hour range. Mind you, those were my in-season hours! I always told myself I wasn't a morning person, and I always tried to 'cram' my weekly hours into the weekend with long rides and runs on Sat/Sun. That was admittedly not a recipe for success, but rather a recipe for burnout, injury, and slow and frustrating races. Getting in the water in the morning has allowed me to use my lunchtime to bike or run, which has finally allowed me to crack the 10 hour week on a regular basis- and it's still the offseason! I haven't even started piling on the big bike/run volume yet. Despite doing 40% more volume than before (and being 5 years older) I feel fresher and more healthy than when my big bike bike/run weekends accounted for the majority of my weekly training hours.

So here I am, on day one of my 18 week training season, and I'm utterly ecstatic over what I've accomplished over the past 15 weeks. I've dropped ALL the weight I wanted to lose (and then some), I'm happy, injury-free, and utterly enjoying biking, running, AND swimming. I'm knocking out 10 mile long runs and 65 mile long rides at paces I never dreamed of. But perhaps most importantly, as I wrote about several months ago, I've made enormous strides in making triathlon a foundational part of my life again. Training isn't a daily struggle, as it sometimes was before. It's usually one of the highlights of my day, along with dinner time with the family.

So as my offseason comes to an end and my season starts in earnest, one door closes and another opens. I can look back on the past four months with a tremendous sense of accomplishment and I look forward to the next 18 weeks with anticipation and excitement, knowing I've done everything I've set out to do so far and I've positioned myself for a great season. Now all that's missing is to win the Kona lottery and get that spot in the Hawaii Ironman I've been dreaming of.

And now for something completely different...

As my shutdown week sadly wound down to it's end, the torrential rain we've been experiencing for the past several days finally let up and we got a couple of gorgeous days of sunshine and warm weather. I got in a nice long swim and bike ride on Thursday, and by Friday I was ready to take a break from my triathlon obsession and go diving. Both Andy and Kreso were able to go, so this was something we definitely needed to take advantage of, as we haven't dove together as a team in a long time.

I woke up early on Friday and got my Masters swim in the morning, and then ran home to pack up the dive gear, which has been sitting neglected collecting dust in the garage. Andy and Kreso came by around 10:00, and we quickly packed up Andy's truck and headed off to Pt Lobos. We arrived at the Whaler's Cove parking lot to find gorgeous sunny sky and a pretty calm-looking cove. Despite the wave models and swell predictions of mediocre diving, this looked like it was going to be pretty nice. Well, everything except low tide at the boat ramp. I hate trying to get in the water at low tide. It turns what should be a simple task into a circus act. Right where the water line is in the photo there's a algae-covered drop-off, so rather than being able to don fins on the ramp in waist-deep water and kick out you need to jump in with no fins and about 150 pounds of gear on, and then writhe around like an eel as you try to put your fins on while your gear tries to flip you onto your back. Despite this, however, we were giddy as we surveyed the scene and planned the dive.


Despite the fact that the three of us still need to do a LOT of skills work in order to pass our tech checkout and move on the tech 1, we had agreed on the car ride down that today would simply be a fun dive. It had been way too long since we'd all dove together, and it was too nice a day to be stuck in the cove doing valve drills and deployments. After finalizing our plan we quickly geared up, ran through pre-dive checks, and hit the water.
We decided that since Kreso had never led a dive out to Beto's reef, and could barely use his compass, we'd make him lead the dive, and I would be the deco captain. We'd keep the drills to a minimum- maybe a valve drill and bag shoot at the end of the dive, depending on how cold we were and how bad the vis was in the cove. Once in the water we did bubble checks and descended to find some moderate surge, but better than expected visibility in the cove. As we made our way out of the cove, past the familiar landmarks at 'hole in the wall' and 'sea mount' the visibility opened up to a very descent 30' and the swell died down quite a bit below 60'. As we made out way out to Beto's reef, the nice sunny day and lack of kelp really provided some descent ambient light, even at a depth of 110'. It seemed like out time at Beto's reef flew by, and soon it was time to make our way back to the cove.

All in all, it was an awesome dive with great teammates. It's dives like this that leave you wanting more! I can't wait to get out there again. Soon.

Details:

Dive time: 70 minutes
Max depth: 110 feet
Avg depth: 67 feet
Water temp: 52.2 degrees (thank God for drysuits)

Returning to “the ride that ended it all”

“Whether you think you can or think you can't - you are right.” ~Henry Ford

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here I am again, at the corner of Oak Glen Ave and Sycamore Dr. There are no hawks circling overhead today, no wild turkeys roaming in the open fields. The late fall afternoon sunshine has been replaced with a cold wintry dampness that follows a hard rain, and the morning sun still struggles to break through and make it’s presence felt. I can’t believe it’s taken so long to come back here.

It was two years, two months, and two days ago that I last rode here. Ever since I started my long road back to being a triathlete, this is the ride I’ve been looking forward to with a mixture of anxiety and anticipation. This is the ride that ended it all. I knew that sooner or later I’d have to face my demons, and today it was finally time to ride the Uvas loop again.

What I needed for this little adventure was moral support but, being unable to convince either Bob or Yvonne to join me today, it appeared that I’d be on my own until I asked Nikolas if he had any ideas for someone I could bring with me to help. He dutifully ran out of the room and came back a minute later with Blizzard, his toy lizard. “Here baba, he’ll help you” Nikolas assured me. I thanked him profusely, and promised I’d take good care of Blizzard, and out the door I went.


Down in the garage now, I needed to find a good perch for Blizzard. Somewhere where he could keep an eye on the action from a safe vantage point, and provide the occasional moral support and tongue-lashing, if necessary. I quickly found the perfect spot, and with the help of a few tie wraps Blizzard had a secure perch and I was off into the cold wet morning.

The beginning of every ride, for me, is this odd ritual where I assess what my goals and objectives are for the ride, and then begin this strange negotiation with myself.

“OK, the goal for today’s ride is to just ride easy and enjoy it” I say to myself. “The roads are wet and full of leaves and trash, so take it easy on the downhills”, I continue. “There’s no power goal for the ride- just ride easy and don’t look at the power meter.”

“What?!”

“You heard me- no power goals. That’s a recipe for disaster today. Just ride easy. You’re still recovering from a cold. There’ll be plenty of other opportunities to hammer it another day.”

“You’re kidding, right?

“You’re an idiot. Do I need to remind you what we call this ride?”

“I’ll agree to ride the first hour easy, and we’ll talk again later.”

“Hmmph. Fine.”

And with that I settle into a nice easy effortless pace as I make my way up over Kennedy Rd out of Los Gatos and into Almaden valley. Along the way I pass several groups of riders, and am actually a little surprised how many cyclists are out this morning, given how wet and cloudy it is. The forecast for the day calls for a mixture of clouds and sunshine, but it rained last night and the dampness still hangs in the air like a wet towel. The roads are very wet and full of debris and puddles, and all the gutters are still flowing a steady stream of muddy runoff, so I am constantly watching out for a clear track to ride in. I’m reminded several times of the consequences of not paying attention, as I pass at least 5 or 6 riders with flat tires in the first 10 miles. Not a good omen.

As I make the turn from Santa Teresa Blvd onto Bailey Rd I know that the first bit of “real” riding lies ahead. The climb up Bailey road to McKean Rd is a short but steep climb that catches unsuspecting riders off guard. This climb is part of the San Jose International Triathlon course, and it would always amuse me to see riders who obviously didn’t know the course jump out of the saddle and start hammering the lower portion of the climb thinking it was just another little roller. They would invariably blow up about half way up the climb and struggle to get to the top. Before I know it though, I am putting the hammer down myself.

“What are you doing?”

“Passing people ;-) You should try it, its fun.”

“Smart ass”

Oh, c’mon- this power is totally doable for this climb. Let’s see what happens. Worst case, we back it off and cruise the upper half.”

“Let’s see what happens?! What happens is you’ll suffer like a dog in the last hour of this ride because you’re dumb and you cooked your legs, and then you wonder why you had another bad ride on this course.”

“Oy, just ride dude.”

Before I know it the Bailey road climb is behind me and I find myself making the left turn onto McKean Rd. In my mind, this intersection has always signified the start of the real riding. Twenty miles in to the ride now, and the warm-up and the Bailey climb are behind me, as are all the stop signs, traffic lights, and houses for a good long while. This intersection marks the transition from “in town” to “in the boonies”, so its time to quit messing around and get to the real riding. I settle into a not-easy but not-hard pace as I cruise past Cinnabar golf course, and I briefly wish I could be off playing a round of golf instead of riding, but that thought is quickly pushed to the back of my mind. Those sorts of thoughts won’t be tolerated today. The surroundings continue to get more rural as I pass Calero reservoir, and as I see the sign indicating that McKean Rd had ended and Uvas Rd begins an uneasy feeling settles over me and I can’t help but feel as though I’ve crossed into Mordor. Dark grey clouds still hang in the sky, and I wonder when or if the sun will finally come out. I push on.

I soon find myself at the intersection of Uvas Rd and Oak Glen Rd. I take the left turn carefully and I am now officially on the “Uvas loop”, the 15 mile loop that is the course for the Uvas triathlon. This is the part of the ride that the subversive part of me secretly wants to hammer, just to see what will happen. The only sounds now are those of my bike and my steady rhythmic breathing. Without realizing it at first, I am now working steadily at an even higher pace, and as I glance down at Blizzard he nods approvingly at the power and heart rate indicated on my bike computer. We push on.

And then I am here- the corner of Oak Glen Ave and Sycamore Dr.- the very spot where I had stopped to admire the scenery on that fateful ride some 26 months ago. I had no intention of stopping here, but for some unknown reason I do. The sun has started to peek through the clouds now, and I take a moment to quickly eat a Clif bar, take in the gorgeous view, and take a few pictures before heading back on my way once again. Before I’ve really had a chance to process what just happened I’m back on the bike and pedaling again. My clothing is damp from sweat and water from the roadway that’s spraying everywhere, and even a few minutes’ stop has chilled me. Now, as I work to get back up to speed, I can feel the wind chill me, and my muscles momentarily protest having to get back to work. I come into a clearing and the sun feels good on my back. I slow for a moment to soak in the warmth, and for the first time today I feel a sense of relief and calm wash over me. I know that this time is different. There is no longer doubt in my mind, as there was on that afternoon 825 days ago.


Unlike the last time I rode this course, the ride home is a collage of vivid thoughts. I ride with unrestrained abandon, pushing the pedals as hard as I can. Every roller is a competition to see if I can ride just a little harder. The wicked side of me has quieted the logical side for the moment, and I relish the exquisite pain that every climb and small rolling hill dishes out, slowing only long enough to catch my breath and push on again. The milestones roll by- Calero reservoir, Almaden Lake Park…. before I know it I find myself back in the familiar territory of Kennedy Rd, and I’m attacking the Kennedy climb at a suicide pace. I reach the top completely out of breath, exhausted, every muscle screaming, and ecstatic.


As I roll into the driveway some three and half hours after I left, I glance down at my power meter and I flip through screens of data- altitude, average heart rate, average power, distance, intensity factor, numbers that normally mean everything on
a training ride- they’re good numbers. Blizzard looks at the data approvingly and we trade knowing glances- this ride wasn’t about the numbers, and we both know it.



(Please feel free to post your comments here)

There’s a time and a place for HTFU

The internet seems to be full of “HTFU” nowadays. It’s casually tossed about as the solution to all that ails mankind. Hate your job? HTFU. Feeling depressed?... constipated?... chapped lips?... HTFU! Yes, those four little letters, short for “Harden the Fuck Up”, seem to have the same magical properties as weight loss pills and the ShamWow in making all our problems instantly go away.

The origins of the term are unclear, though some credit an Aussie comedy show for its creation. I first heard the phrase a few years ago, when Team CSC adopted it as its mantra, complete with black wristbands made up by Stuart O’Grady for the team, for the 2007 Tour de France. The peeps at Slowtwitch.com, being the friendly bunch of type A personalities that they are, quickly adopted it as the un-official forum slogan, and now anything remotely resembling a whine, complaint or the faintest hint of weakness by a forum poster becomes a contest to see who can post “HTFU” the fastest. It’s quite amusing actually, of not altogether predictable.

Well, I’m here to tell you that HTFU may not be the universal fix-all, after all. Heresy, you say! I hope Slowtitchia doesn’t get wind of this, as I will surely be excommunicated, or at the very least forced to race my next triathlon in a pink wetsuit and skirt. But let me tell you, my most recent attempt to employ the sage HTFU advice ended up a complete disaster. Fran and Angelina had been sick for the better part of the last week, and by last Friday I was starting to feel a cold coming on also. If their suffering was any indication, this was going to be a whopper of a cold once it kicked in. By Saturday there was no denying I was coming down with something, and I woke up on Sunday completely congested and feeling generally yucky. What to do? Why… go for a long bike ride, of course! HTFU. So, after shaking off the initial misery and loading up on Dayquil, off I rolled for a nice long ride. Well, after three hours of that foolishness I packed it in and retired to watch the Superbowl. Unfortunately, by halftime it was already becoming evident that this little experiment would not end well. By Monday things had deteriorated to the point that I couldn’t even muster the willpower for an easy spin in the gym (if you know how manic I’ve been about not missing a workout lately, you’ll know that that’s saying a lot), and by yesterday I was laid out in bed… down for the count. HTFU, indeed.

So, I’m willing to go on record and say that this little experiment in HTFU has failed miserably and that, despite what the good folks over at Active.com say about exercising with a cold (yes, I should have known better, as this came from more triathletes), the best remedy for that scratchy throat and runny nose is lots of beer and a totally sedentary lifestyle. The more potato chips, the better. In fact, I’ll bet you $10 that a plate of taquitos and some Fat Tire Ale will surely speed recovery much faster than any aerobic workout.

Of course, never being one to learn from my own mistakes, I woke up this morning and took the fact that I didn’t have a splitting migraine as a sure sign that I needed to run 7 miles at lunch. We’ll see how that works out for me.

Der Kaiser has arrived

I'm not talking about Jan Ullrich, though if the UPS guy were to drop off 'big Jan' on my doorstep that would be pretty damn cool too. I've always been a Jan fan, and secretly hold out hope that he'll make a comeback to cycling. Heck, if Lance, Tyler, Floyd, and Ivan can come back, why not Jan?

No, I'm talking about the Renn Kaiser. If there's one thing triathletes love, it's toys. Coffee and toys- but mostly toys. And if the toys actually make you go faster, so much the better. What better way to go faster on the bike than with a disc wheel. Disc wheels have many virtues, not the least of which is the awesome 'whump, whump, whump' sound they make as you're riding so other athletes can hear you coming and fear you as you pass them. (that presumes that I can actually manage to pass someone, but we'll cross that bridge when we get to it). Disc wheels also look cool in transition and during warm-ups. This wheel, however, is extra special 'cause it's silver. Let's all say it together. Aaaahhhhh! Ooooohhhhh! Thank you. Yes, it's not your ordinary black disc wheel- it's silver. Why? I dunno. I'm sure there's a good explanation for why Renn chose to make this wheel silver, but what I DO know is that it stands out, even among a sea of disc wheels. Slap that baby on a silver bike and you've got yourself some serious bling, and everyone knows that bike bling is worth at least 5 minutes off the bike split in a half IM.
Then you add the name- the Kaiser. The name evokes images of Jan Ullrich making his poor TT bike cry under the extreme power he put out. Knowing I've got "Der Kaiser" on my side will be a huge confidence boost come race day. Other athletes will fear me and cower in the presence of my mighty silver wheel. Some will even pack up and go home before the race starts because their soul will be defeated.
The best part is that Renn doesn't even make the Kaiser any more, so all those poseurs that will invariably rush out to copy me will be SOL. Yes, that's right- this is one rare bird. The mightly silver Kaiser wheel that can only be found in the darkest corners of that fabled Triathlon forum, Slowtwitch. (OK, yes, I bought it used off some guy for a great price through the Slowtwitch classifieds). So, as I continue my training and preparation for my return to triathlon, I now carry the quiet reassurance and secret confidence of having Der Kaiser on my side.

Swapping passion for dedication

Those that know me know that when I immerse myself in something it often consumes me. Some people have the ability to juggle multiple interests, remain engaged in each of them, and balance them with work and family life. This is a struggle for me. When asked, I will tell people that my hobbies include scuba diving, triathlon, photography, home improvement, and motorcycles. What’s not as clear is what I’m interested in right now, because rarely (never) do multiple interests get mindshare simultaneously. This has always been both a blessing and a curse for me, because while immersing myself into something has always yielded big gains in that area quickly, it’s always to the detriment of everything else. Case in point- I have an unfinished wine cellar, a dusty guitar, and a tech diving training sign-off that are both ‘in limbo’ at the moment- all are victims of the interest du jour, and are waiting their turn on the hobby merry-go-round. I’ll get back to them eventually. I always do.

The current fixation is triathlon, again. The past 8 weeks have been some of the best training I’ve ever done, and I’m ecstatic with the gains I’ve made. I’ve dropped 8 pounds since Thanksgiving. I’ve gone from zero running two months ago to running 8 miles at an 8:20 pace. I’ve raised my threshold power on the bike by 15 watts. The frustrating part is that I’ve been at this level of fitness many times before, so while its fun and gratifying to see the improvements, it’s also a downer to have to work so hard just to get back to where I’ve been. Unlike other interests, triathlon training is definitely a “use it or lose it” proposition. My hard-earned new scuba diving skills will be there again after a few dives when I get back to diving seriously. The progress I’ve made on the wine cellar sits there, tantalizingly (and for Francine, infuriatingly) near completion. Stepping away from some things results in very little backslide. Stepping away from triathlon for any significant length of time sends you more or less back to square one.

So my challenge to myself, my New Year’s resolution of sorts (although I don’t believe in New Years resolutions) isn’t to race again in 2009, but to make triathlon a foundational aspect of my life again. For several years it was. Since that time I’ve made several attempts to get back into triathlon, but I’ve not succeeded in becoming a triathlete again. Despite all the great gains I’ve made in the past several weeks, and for all the mental and physical energy I’ve put into training, I’m not there yet. Triathlon is still the fixation of the moment. The telltale signs are all there… passing on lunch with friends to train instead, feeling guilty about not getting two workouts in that day, gauging how good the past week was by how long the long ride was. All of these things are clues that balance is completely lacking. So maybe it’s time to measure success a different way. Success will be when I miss that long ride and don’t sulk about it for the next two days, or when I accept that lunch invitation even though I didn’t swim that morning. Then I’ll know that I’m on my way to making triathlon a sustainable part of my life again. Only then will I be able to call myself a triathlete, and only then will I be able to entertain thoughts of racing another Ironman- something that I’ve always said I would do again practically since I crossed the finish line of my first one, but something requires several seasons of continuous dedication and training to do. And, most importantly, only then will I be able to make time for other interests to coexist with triathlon in my life. The irony of the situation is not lost on me- in order to realize any sort of lasting gains and reach a level of performance beyond what I’ve achieved in the past I need to be a little less consumed with triathlon. The real achievement will be in not being passionate about it, but instead being dedicated.

Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a lunch appointment with a friend to go to.

Week 8 and all is good

OK, now that the dreaded week seven is now safely behind me, a little celebrating was in order. To commemorate the occasion, I signed up for a couple more races. I'm now officially entered in:








Avia Wildflower Olympic Triathlon- Sunday May 3








Morgan Hill Sprint Triathlon at Uvas- Sunday May 17











Vineman Ironman 70.3 (Half Ironman)- Sunday July 19 (ok, so I'm on the waitlist for Vineman, but everyone always gets in, so I'm assuming I'm in).

There are several more races that I'm still contemplating, but this is the official list for now.

All three of these races hold a special place in my heart. Uvas was my very first triathlon. I still vividly remember standing on the shore of Uvas reservoir in near-panic as my swim wave was about to go off, and then the complete and utter joy as I crossed the finish line. I must have grinned ear to ear for a week after that race, and I still have my race number pinned up on the wall in my office at work.
I raced at Wildflower in 2003 (half Ironman distance that time) as a run-up to my first Ironman, and had an amazing time, despite racing the entire day in a torrential downpour, suffering two flats on the bike, and having to run the last 1.5 miles of the bike course with my bike back to the transition area (who the &^%$ plans for TWO flats in one race). Fran was there with me that day, and she definitely earned "IronWife" status. If there's anything worse than racing for 6+ hours in the pouring rain, it's standing around in the pouring rain watching other people race. Wildflower is nothing short of a spectacle. It's billed as the Woodstock of Triathlon, and it is, indeed, all that. This year we're making it a family outing so I've opted to do the Olympic-distance race instead. We won't partake in the full spectacle, including camping at Lake San Antonio. Instead we're planning to stay in nearby (somewhat) Paso Robles and make a weekend of it.
Vineman 2003 was my "A" race that year, and my first (and only, so far) Ironman. The half Vineman is basically the same course- just one loop of the swim, bike, and run instead of two. The thought of going back and racing on the same course where I completed my first Ironman gives me goosebumps. The swim is in the Russian River in Guerneville, and the bike and run courses are both very scenic as they wind their way through the local vineyards (hence the name of the race). The run course actually goes through the grounds of the La Crema winery. To this day, every time I see La Crema wine on a wine list or at a store it makes me smile a little bit.

I'm cautiously optimistic that I haven't jinxed all of this. If history is any indication, as soon as I say "everything is shaping up nicely" things invariably instantly go to shit, but I have a feeling that this year is different.

The seven week itch

No, not the seven year itch, the seven week itch. This has been the week, three times now, that the wheels have figuratively fallen off the triathlon wagon. After great starts in the 2005, 2006, and 2007 early seasons, and all sorts of lofty goals of Ironman Arizona, Vineman, etc., the seventh week of my training has been nothing short of abysmal. Week Seven has stopped my "comeback" dead in it's tracks three times now. My previous blog entry- what would prove to be my last blog entry for nearly two years- demonstrated exactly how quickly things could, and did, go south on me.

Why? I have no idea, but I'm determined not to let it happen this time. Of course, work is conspiring against me. After a three week work shutdown that saw some remarkably consistent training despite the holidays, including an unprecedented 17+ hour training week last week, I'm now completely immersed in learning a new job in two weeks before my current manager takes her early retirement package and rolls off into the sunset. And it's quarter-end too.

So, the goal for this week is to just survive to train another week. Some weeks the training just seems to flow. I know that this will not be one of those weeks. Despite starting off the week in remarkable fashion with a nice 8 mile run yesterday in gorgeous 70 degree weather I have no goals for this week beyond sqeezing in some training whenever and wherever I can, and not imploding. again. I know that this time will be different.

Prologue

Some of you may have read this entry for January 15, 2007 from my Yahoo 360 blog. It’s as good a place as any to start this new blog.

Time: Sunday November 5th, 2006 1:27 PM.

Place: Morgan Hill, CA. Intersection of Oak Glen Ave and Sycamore Dr.

This is where my dream of Ironman Arizona 2007 quietly ended. I didn’t know it at the time. I wouldn’t know it for more than 2 months, but it was all done. Finished. Roadkill. And I never saw it coming.

It was a gorgeous late fall day, and I was on my long ride for the week- a 60 miler that would take me around Uvas reservoir on some of the most scenic south valley roads. I was familiar with the course, having ridden it numerous times and raced it during the Uvas triathlon on more than one occasion. All I knew at the time was that I was tired, a little cold, and hungry but it was here, 29 miles into my ride on this quiet backcountry road, that I stood eating a Clif bar and drinking some Gatorade and watching several small flocks of wild turkeys wandering through a distant meadow, that I unknowingly gave up.

Two months and ten days later I find myself running on a treadmill in the gym at lunch. It’s the sort of slow, uncomfortable run that comes from months of inactivity. I find myself surrounded by New Years Resolutioners busily shuttling around the gym. I tell myself to just put the iPod on and run. Don’t worry about heart rate, speed, form, time… just run. I know it won’t be a long run, but that’s not the point. I start to run and I’m amazed at how quickly my mind clears and I start to piece together what’s happened over the past few months. I’ve always enjoyed the time I have alone with my thoughts when I’m working out. While they are not always pleasant dialogues with myself, they are invariably enlightening, and today is no exception.

So what happened at mile 29 on that sunny fall day? In short, I started to doubt. For the first time since I started to talk and write about doing an Ironman I started to doubt if I could really do it, and that doubt found a little crack and took root and grew. Here I was, at mile 29. 29 miles was nothing. On race day I’d have another 83 miles from this point. As I stood there I pondered that thought and wondered how on earth I would ever do it on race day. I didn’t think about it for too long. It was really not much more than a passing thought as I ate my Clif bar and watched a hawk circle overhead, and then I was back on my bike and riding again and thinking about other things. I honestly can’t remember what I thought about for the rest of the ride, or how I felt after the ride. I can look back at my log and see that I managed to hit my goal of holding 190 watts for the ride, so I should have been satisfied with the ride. I can also look at my log and see that this was the last workout for a long, long time.

to be continued…