When you're staring at the bottom of a pool during a training session, 1500 meters later, trying to get that last couple of 100 meters in, your hip flexors have given up on you, your triceps are full of lactic acid, and your lungs are on fire.......What do you do? Do you stop swimming or dig deeper and keep going?
When you're spinning through your gears on a long winding road, straight into a headwind, trying to hold 20mph, your legs feeling like bricks, your hamstrings screaming for mercy, and you're only 8 miles into a 20 mile ride.....What do you do? Do you down shift into an easier gear and spin it out or dig deep and keep charging for that extra mph?
When you're knocking out a 40 minute run at 9pm at night when the temperature outside is still well into the 90's and the humidity is so high you feel like you're suffocating every time you take a breath......what do you do? Turn for home early or change your stride, redirect your breathing pattern and keep running until you've reached your goal?
What do you do when life gets tough? When your day doesn't go perfect? When a loved one gets bad news or is dealing with a difficult time in their life? When a friend or relative calls you spur of the moment and needs help? When you face a tough decision and there is no one around to offer advice? When you haven't heard from a friend in awhile and want to give them a call but don't because you think it's their turn. When you're giving your spouse 110% of your time, love, and energy and don't get the same in return? What do you do when a higher power calls on you to step out of your comfort zone? Lend a helping hand or donate money to a worthy cause? To give up your own personal agenda for the day to unselfishly help out those in need?
What do you do? Do you ignore the request, make an excuse, let the voicemail pickup? Or do you answer the call, rise to the occasion, give back, pay it forward? Do you give up and let life get the best of you or do you dig deep....like you did in the pool, on that bike ride, or on that suffocating run in the 90 degree heat?
What do you do?
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
The 1st Culmunation
We did it. The culmination of 5+ months of training came to a head on June 1st, The Breezy Point Triathlon. What an eventful day. I don’t know about the rest of you but I absolutely did not sleep the night before. I stayed busy the day before, preparing, packing, planning, working around the house, eating carbs, etc. in hopes that I would crash at roughly 9pm with no energy. I got in bed by 9pm but the inevitable crash never came. I read books that normally put me out in 15 mins or less. I took a warm shower. I laid in bed and thought of nothing and everything all at once. Nonetheless 4:30am on the June 1st finally came and so it began………..
I awoke with a surprising spring in my step. My bags were by the door. My pre warm up cloths lay neatly by the bathroom sink. My bike in the garage with the proper air pressure (set the night before) waiting to be loaded in the truck. My breakfast planned days in advance. My family awoke 30 mins later, surprisingly anxious to go see me race. We were literally out the door at 5:30am just as I planned it. Through the gate at 6am on the nose, already made contact with the Blackwood’s to verify that they were up an operational. They were enroute. I slowly made my way to check in, trying to control my nerves, trying to take it all in, put everything in retrospect. It was the perfect day. Despite the name, Breezy Point, the day was fairly calm, sunny, warm and extremely humid.
Check in was not as chaotic as I anticipated. The organizers of breezy point had everything planned out. There was an obvious line to check your bike in and get your body marked. I had hopes of huge numbers down both of my shoulders/arms. They merely marked my right hand with my number. I imagined this would suffice. I made my way to the transition area. Getting there so early gave me the pick of the litter for my age group. I chose a spot right by the entrance, which would turn out to later be the final transition exit from bike to run. I guess it’s all a wash in retrospect. I nervously set up my area. Not knowing what I was doing I unpacked my bag, shoes (bike and run), jersey, wetsuit, helmet, glasses, suit juice (aka lubricant), sunscreen, visor, towel, water bottles, etc. I had a couple of guys around me who were in a calm mood and seemed up for idle chitchat. We talked, made comments, went on about our routine. Once set up I headed for the scoring table to get my timing chip. Neat little device that fits around your ankle. I then started looking for my friends and family. I could see the Blackwood’s start to pepper in. Everything was coming together.
It was approximately 1 hour before start time. I started my warm ups. I stretched, got on my bike and did an easy 2-mile ride, spinning through most of my gears. Despite the short jaunt I came back sweating profusely. Did I mention it was humid? Roughly 77% by the weather guessers’ calculations. I got back in my flip-flops and headed towards the tarmac where we would be entering and exiting the swim. I walked back and forth to my transition area twice. I had read a horror story about a US Triathlete hopeful who trained his guts out for months and blew the race b/c he couldn’t find his bike for a full 5 minutes after exiting the swim first. That was not going to be, regardless of it being my first time. Shortly after my obsessive routine they opened the bay for warm ups. I dove in with my jammer on, not doing any real warm up but just to feel the water, to tell my body it was time. We were now at T-15 mins and counting. I proceeded back to my transition area where I began to lub up with body glide and put on my wet suit. They started calling the first wave to the transition area. Time seemed to be flying at this point. Surprisingly I wasn’t nervous. I actually mustered a smile. I told myself I would have fun and not stress out. I went over to give my wife one last hug, my daughter one last kiss for good luck. This hug seemed to last for an hour albeit a few fleeting seconds. I made my way to the transition area. This is where things got weird. I ran into 3 of my coworkers. Guys I see everyday but had no idea they were going to compete in the Tri. Weird.
The swim. We staged up like a coral full of sheep, only in the water and most of us had no hair (see tapering for dummies). This got comical. Everyone was in a really good mood and joking around. Guys were peeing next to you and no one cared, probably b/c we were all peeing on one another. We started jocking for position, in a humorous kid of way. The horn sounded and we were off. Wave #2. I took some friends advice and stayed out of the may lay. Hung in the back on the outside lane. I never made it back to the inside. Not sure if it was the current or my right side being the stronger stroke. It wasn’t because of the crowd. I probably swam more like 1300 meters rather than the allotted 1000 meters. Call me an overachiever. Nonetheless I completed the minimum required distance of 1000 meters in 22 mins. About 5 minutes faster than I had done in any training sessions. I came out of the water realizing I had put the toughest part of the Tri behind me…..so I thought.
The bike was next and the leg I was looking most forward too. Partly b/c I had a new bike and partly b/c this was foreign to me, bike racing that is. I ran up the tarmac stripping off my wetsuit to a wave of looker’s on cheering loudly. Surprisingly I found my friends and family in the may lay. They were right up front cheering us on. This cleared my groggy head and gave me a boost of energy to press on. The transition was smooth, no real hiccups. Got the wetsuit off smoothly, dried my feet, slipped my socks and shoes on, threw on my helmet, unracked my bike and sprinted for the next time mat. I was off. Rough goings at the beginning as the wind was pretty heavy heading out. Probably more so my exhaustion due to the swim than anything. It took me about 3 miles to really get into my groove and then I was sailing. For the first time in 5 months I felt what race intensity fells like. I was flying. Holding 20mph at times and peaking at 24mph through certain parts. I even mustered a smile. I felt like I had arrived. I inadvertently hooked up with 2 other guys going about the same pace. We weren’t drafting but we certainly played leapfrog the rest of the way. This was a blessing in disguise. One of us would pass the other two, surprising to the cheers of the others. We were starving to push each other. When the front-runner would wear out the other would pop out and take the lead. It was an unsaid respect for the sport, the drive, and the endurance of the other man. I came in off the 12.6-mile bike leg feeling confident, as if I had already won, knowing my strongest discipline lay before me in the last leg.
The run was, well, arduous to say the least. I mentioned the humidity before? It’ reared it’s ugly head on the run. With virtually no shade and absolutely no breeze (I begged god to provide some and he didn’t hear me) we were all pretty much suffocating during the longest 5K of our lives. At the beginning my calves felt like 2 bricks. I was certain they were going to lock up. They never did. I had a terrible crap in my side most of the way through, partly because of the heat, partly because of mild dehydration but mostly b/c I wasn’t in the best shape I could have been This is where it got a little emotional. Every muscle in my body was telling me to stop, double over, puke, give up but I didn’t. I thought of Cathy, what she must be going through, with her treatments, the weekly shots, the soreness, the fatigue from the meds. I demanded myself not to stop. I would keep running b/c Cathy is still going, despite everything. Miraculously my side crap went away about 2.5 miles into the run. I saw about 5 people ahead of me that had passed me earlier as if I were standing still. I kicked it into my normal 6:50 mile pace. I had gotten my, what had to be, 5th wind by now. I saw the home stretch. Saw the crowd waiting and could hear them cheering, louder as I got closer. This brought tears to my eyes. I must have been sprinting by now. 1 and ½ hours of energy output and I was now sprinting. I finished strong, seeing my wife and daughter at the very end, cheering me on once again. I felt on top of the world. I felt like I had arrived. I did. 1 hour and 32 minutes later at the finish line. Nothing to write home about but nothing to scoff at either. Finished 22nd out of 44 guys in my age group but it wasn’t about the placement or the overall time. It was about the beginning of a journey. The experience with the Blackwood’s. The cause to raise awareness for Carcinoid. That we did. I talked to several people that afternoon that asked me what “Tri for Life” was all about. I spoke about it as if it was my passion. It is. I’m committed to this. I have arrived. Not on the Triathlon scene, rather, on the Blackwood scene, as a member of a small army that will engage in this journey for the duration.
I awoke with a surprising spring in my step. My bags were by the door. My pre warm up cloths lay neatly by the bathroom sink. My bike in the garage with the proper air pressure (set the night before) waiting to be loaded in the truck. My breakfast planned days in advance. My family awoke 30 mins later, surprisingly anxious to go see me race. We were literally out the door at 5:30am just as I planned it. Through the gate at 6am on the nose, already made contact with the Blackwood’s to verify that they were up an operational. They were enroute. I slowly made my way to check in, trying to control my nerves, trying to take it all in, put everything in retrospect. It was the perfect day. Despite the name, Breezy Point, the day was fairly calm, sunny, warm and extremely humid.
Check in was not as chaotic as I anticipated. The organizers of breezy point had everything planned out. There was an obvious line to check your bike in and get your body marked. I had hopes of huge numbers down both of my shoulders/arms. They merely marked my right hand with my number. I imagined this would suffice. I made my way to the transition area. Getting there so early gave me the pick of the litter for my age group. I chose a spot right by the entrance, which would turn out to later be the final transition exit from bike to run. I guess it’s all a wash in retrospect. I nervously set up my area. Not knowing what I was doing I unpacked my bag, shoes (bike and run), jersey, wetsuit, helmet, glasses, suit juice (aka lubricant), sunscreen, visor, towel, water bottles, etc. I had a couple of guys around me who were in a calm mood and seemed up for idle chitchat. We talked, made comments, went on about our routine. Once set up I headed for the scoring table to get my timing chip. Neat little device that fits around your ankle. I then started looking for my friends and family. I could see the Blackwood’s start to pepper in. Everything was coming together.
It was approximately 1 hour before start time. I started my warm ups. I stretched, got on my bike and did an easy 2-mile ride, spinning through most of my gears. Despite the short jaunt I came back sweating profusely. Did I mention it was humid? Roughly 77% by the weather guessers’ calculations. I got back in my flip-flops and headed towards the tarmac where we would be entering and exiting the swim. I walked back and forth to my transition area twice. I had read a horror story about a US Triathlete hopeful who trained his guts out for months and blew the race b/c he couldn’t find his bike for a full 5 minutes after exiting the swim first. That was not going to be, regardless of it being my first time. Shortly after my obsessive routine they opened the bay for warm ups. I dove in with my jammer on, not doing any real warm up but just to feel the water, to tell my body it was time. We were now at T-15 mins and counting. I proceeded back to my transition area where I began to lub up with body glide and put on my wet suit. They started calling the first wave to the transition area. Time seemed to be flying at this point. Surprisingly I wasn’t nervous. I actually mustered a smile. I told myself I would have fun and not stress out. I went over to give my wife one last hug, my daughter one last kiss for good luck. This hug seemed to last for an hour albeit a few fleeting seconds. I made my way to the transition area. This is where things got weird. I ran into 3 of my coworkers. Guys I see everyday but had no idea they were going to compete in the Tri. Weird.
The swim. We staged up like a coral full of sheep, only in the water and most of us had no hair (see tapering for dummies). This got comical. Everyone was in a really good mood and joking around. Guys were peeing next to you and no one cared, probably b/c we were all peeing on one another. We started jocking for position, in a humorous kid of way. The horn sounded and we were off. Wave #2. I took some friends advice and stayed out of the may lay. Hung in the back on the outside lane. I never made it back to the inside. Not sure if it was the current or my right side being the stronger stroke. It wasn’t because of the crowd. I probably swam more like 1300 meters rather than the allotted 1000 meters. Call me an overachiever. Nonetheless I completed the minimum required distance of 1000 meters in 22 mins. About 5 minutes faster than I had done in any training sessions. I came out of the water realizing I had put the toughest part of the Tri behind me…..so I thought.
The bike was next and the leg I was looking most forward too. Partly b/c I had a new bike and partly b/c this was foreign to me, bike racing that is. I ran up the tarmac stripping off my wetsuit to a wave of looker’s on cheering loudly. Surprisingly I found my friends and family in the may lay. They were right up front cheering us on. This cleared my groggy head and gave me a boost of energy to press on. The transition was smooth, no real hiccups. Got the wetsuit off smoothly, dried my feet, slipped my socks and shoes on, threw on my helmet, unracked my bike and sprinted for the next time mat. I was off. Rough goings at the beginning as the wind was pretty heavy heading out. Probably more so my exhaustion due to the swim than anything. It took me about 3 miles to really get into my groove and then I was sailing. For the first time in 5 months I felt what race intensity fells like. I was flying. Holding 20mph at times and peaking at 24mph through certain parts. I even mustered a smile. I felt like I had arrived. I inadvertently hooked up with 2 other guys going about the same pace. We weren’t drafting but we certainly played leapfrog the rest of the way. This was a blessing in disguise. One of us would pass the other two, surprising to the cheers of the others. We were starving to push each other. When the front-runner would wear out the other would pop out and take the lead. It was an unsaid respect for the sport, the drive, and the endurance of the other man. I came in off the 12.6-mile bike leg feeling confident, as if I had already won, knowing my strongest discipline lay before me in the last leg.
The run was, well, arduous to say the least. I mentioned the humidity before? It’ reared it’s ugly head on the run. With virtually no shade and absolutely no breeze (I begged god to provide some and he didn’t hear me) we were all pretty much suffocating during the longest 5K of our lives. At the beginning my calves felt like 2 bricks. I was certain they were going to lock up. They never did. I had a terrible crap in my side most of the way through, partly because of the heat, partly because of mild dehydration but mostly b/c I wasn’t in the best shape I could have been This is where it got a little emotional. Every muscle in my body was telling me to stop, double over, puke, give up but I didn’t. I thought of Cathy, what she must be going through, with her treatments, the weekly shots, the soreness, the fatigue from the meds. I demanded myself not to stop. I would keep running b/c Cathy is still going, despite everything. Miraculously my side crap went away about 2.5 miles into the run. I saw about 5 people ahead of me that had passed me earlier as if I were standing still. I kicked it into my normal 6:50 mile pace. I had gotten my, what had to be, 5th wind by now. I saw the home stretch. Saw the crowd waiting and could hear them cheering, louder as I got closer. This brought tears to my eyes. I must have been sprinting by now. 1 and ½ hours of energy output and I was now sprinting. I finished strong, seeing my wife and daughter at the very end, cheering me on once again. I felt on top of the world. I felt like I had arrived. I did. 1 hour and 32 minutes later at the finish line. Nothing to write home about but nothing to scoff at either. Finished 22nd out of 44 guys in my age group but it wasn’t about the placement or the overall time. It was about the beginning of a journey. The experience with the Blackwood’s. The cause to raise awareness for Carcinoid. That we did. I talked to several people that afternoon that asked me what “Tri for Life” was all about. I spoke about it as if it was my passion. It is. I’m committed to this. I have arrived. Not on the Triathlon scene, rather, on the Blackwood scene, as a member of a small army that will engage in this journey for the duration.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Ready (from late May)
It’s the fort night before our spring board Triathlon that will begin to raise awareness for Carcinoid. I had doubts about whether or not I was going to be ready for this event about a month ago (see my “Calibrated by the Ocean” blog….) I’ve sense had an epiphany and I now know that I am ready.
It’s literally 4 days before the Tri and I’m in my “taper” phase. Not like Dr. Rob’s taper phase, ala training around tapering, I’m really doing a taper. I never understood why athletes tapered until now. It’s sort of a pseudo physical and mental recharge. Physically to let your body recover from a long training regimen as well as fuel up for “the race.” I now appreciate a carb load as much as the next person. Mentally to reflect on why you’re doing the race, reflecting on your long training routine, and contemplating how race day might play out. It’s been a long winding road of soul searching, both physically and mentally. I used my taper period to do some rough calculations as well. I figured I’ve trained for roughly 68+hours. In those 68 hours I’ve accomplished 40 brick workouts consisting of back to back swim/bike or bike/run sessions to prepare for race day. I’ve woken as early as 4:30am to train by 5am so I could make it to work on time. I’ve trained as late as 10pm biking or running around my dark neighborhood. Surprisingly I never ran into traffic or had any close calls with 2000+lb vehicles that couldn’t’ see me. Dumb luck I guess. I figure I’ve swam over 48,000 meters, biked over 900 miles, and ran over 160miles. I’ve purchased everything from anti chaffing cream to a time trial bike and everything in between. I’ve meet new friends along the way, reacquainted with some old ones, and realized what I always knew but was too busy to stop and look around. There are some really great people in this world. The Blackwoods are the model of greatness we should all strive to become.
One can really find themselves while staring at the bottom of a pool or riding solo down a windy country road. I’ve ran the gamut of emotions throughout this cycle. I’ve laughed and I’ve cried during training sessions. I’ve felt pain, joy, sadness, disbelief, release, refreshed, and refocused. I’ve consulted swim coaches, bike aficianados, and marathon runners, made countless trips to my massage therapists and read more training and nutrition articles than you can shake a stick at. I’ve studied the training course add nauseaum and read every USAT rule that could possible disqualify me. I packed my gear 2 days in advance, lubed the @#$% out of my bike chain, and obsessed over every fine detail you could imagine (just ask my wife).
I’m ready for this race. This race doesn’t do this journey justice because this is only the beginning. This race isn’t the culmination of a build up of 5 months of training for 1 day. This race is the beginning of a journey that we’re on together. We’ve committed to “Tri for Life” and I don’t think anyone’s taking that lightly. We’ve committed to not stopping on June 1st. We’re going to keep charging, trying to find more avenues to raise awareness for Carcinoid, unique ways to raise more funds for a cure. We’ve committed to journey down an aggressive path to save Cathy and others that may be suffering from this silent disease. Hard times and curves in the road sometimes deter people’s hopes and dreams. One thing that cannot be deterred in this journey is determination. We’re determined to help raise awareness and hopefully raise enough funds to find a cure.
We’re ready. I can’t wait to see what’s next…..
It’s literally 4 days before the Tri and I’m in my “taper” phase. Not like Dr. Rob’s taper phase, ala training around tapering, I’m really doing a taper. I never understood why athletes tapered until now. It’s sort of a pseudo physical and mental recharge. Physically to let your body recover from a long training regimen as well as fuel up for “the race.” I now appreciate a carb load as much as the next person. Mentally to reflect on why you’re doing the race, reflecting on your long training routine, and contemplating how race day might play out. It’s been a long winding road of soul searching, both physically and mentally. I used my taper period to do some rough calculations as well. I figured I’ve trained for roughly 68+hours. In those 68 hours I’ve accomplished 40 brick workouts consisting of back to back swim/bike or bike/run sessions to prepare for race day. I’ve woken as early as 4:30am to train by 5am so I could make it to work on time. I’ve trained as late as 10pm biking or running around my dark neighborhood. Surprisingly I never ran into traffic or had any close calls with 2000+lb vehicles that couldn’t’ see me. Dumb luck I guess. I figure I’ve swam over 48,000 meters, biked over 900 miles, and ran over 160miles. I’ve purchased everything from anti chaffing cream to a time trial bike and everything in between. I’ve meet new friends along the way, reacquainted with some old ones, and realized what I always knew but was too busy to stop and look around. There are some really great people in this world. The Blackwoods are the model of greatness we should all strive to become.
One can really find themselves while staring at the bottom of a pool or riding solo down a windy country road. I’ve ran the gamut of emotions throughout this cycle. I’ve laughed and I’ve cried during training sessions. I’ve felt pain, joy, sadness, disbelief, release, refreshed, and refocused. I’ve consulted swim coaches, bike aficianados, and marathon runners, made countless trips to my massage therapists and read more training and nutrition articles than you can shake a stick at. I’ve studied the training course add nauseaum and read every USAT rule that could possible disqualify me. I packed my gear 2 days in advance, lubed the @#$% out of my bike chain, and obsessed over every fine detail you could imagine (just ask my wife).
I’m ready for this race. This race doesn’t do this journey justice because this is only the beginning. This race isn’t the culmination of a build up of 5 months of training for 1 day. This race is the beginning of a journey that we’re on together. We’ve committed to “Tri for Life” and I don’t think anyone’s taking that lightly. We’ve committed to not stopping on June 1st. We’re going to keep charging, trying to find more avenues to raise awareness for Carcinoid, unique ways to raise more funds for a cure. We’ve committed to journey down an aggressive path to save Cathy and others that may be suffering from this silent disease. Hard times and curves in the road sometimes deter people’s hopes and dreams. One thing that cannot be deterred in this journey is determination. We’re determined to help raise awareness and hopefully raise enough funds to find a cure.
We’re ready. I can’t wait to see what’s next…..
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
