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…