The next step: TriTherapy.org

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You'll find blogging, race reports, photos, videos, and musings at tritherapy.org as Dano digests the life lessons found in marathons, triathlons, and all the training that goes along with them.
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A different kind of ready

It's mid-season, season number four.  My first half-Iron triathlon is Sunday: the Door County Triathlon.

Door County is the little peninsula of Wisconsin that sticks out into Lake Michigan.  Up there, it's cherry trees, camp sites, and tourism all summer long.  I've been up there to relax, and it's prime vacationing country.  There is plenty of ice cream - in spite of the agony of waiting until after the race to eat it.  And I've heard all sorts of great things from my friends about this race - it seems to be a local favorite year after year.  It draws a field of 1,000 for each of two races: a sprint on Saturday and a half-iron on Sunday.  Why not a "half-Ironman?"  Because it hasn't sold out to the man that owns that particular name.  As such, it has its own unique flavor and a lower entry fee.  Perhaps not all the same standard perks and amenities, but that's not the kind of stuff I seem to focus on much anymore.  I often prefer a B&B to a Holiday Inn.  Anyway, without the "man", maybe the ladies better enjoy racing there (??)

A lot of people take the opportunity to camp out, add on some vacation, and get away from it all.  I decided to be one of them, if only for a little while.  Sure, one of the most important things to do before a race is to relax and get a lot of good sleep.  A tent site isn't always the best to achieve that goal - but this will be a good test of my mental condition.  In spite of all the variables it brings, outdoors is a great place to feel relaxed.  The campground is undoubtedly going to be full of triathletes - so I should feel great comfort being surrounded by my peeps.  For an added bonus, I'll bring my comfortable air mattress!  What if it rains?  Well, you know what I always say - "you can't pick the weather on race day", and you can't pick it any other day, either.  So I'm just bringing an extra tarp and a calm demeanor.  And a car, just in case.

Am I ready for this race?  Sure!  I've been tapering this week, and taking the extra non-workout time to stay on top of work and home projects that interest me.  I went for a swim this morning through some warm and calm water, and although I know I don't have the muscular endurance for long swimming that I've had in years past, I feel a great comfort in the water and a good command of my mechanics.  As such, I can't swim very fast, but I think I can swim "pretty."  This has been a breakthrough year for running for me: 34 miles in San Diego after an injury-free spring have really built my confidence as a runner.  Now, in the month since San Diego, I've been sporadic as I tried to balance recovery with regaining my consistency, but the extra-hot half-marathon last weekend reminded me that I've got legs.   And biking?  Well, whether or not I'm in ideal shape, I love my bike and it loves me back, and biking is a great part of the race for a little guy.

This has been a different kind of season.  I came into it with a different level of baseline experience, skill, and confidence.  Along the way I dealt with a whole new set of stressors.  And I have responded to them with what feels like a whole new mindset.  As a result, some of my races have arrived with good training, but without big fanfare.  Although I've enjoyed the benefit of not spending the money, I haven't bought new gear for a while; when race days come around, I just grab the same trusty stuff, sponge-bathed, lubed and polished.  I think, without being on active coaching duty this summer, I miss the Team.

As I think about the imminent half-Iron race in three days, I keep remembering that it's a lot of athletes' first big race.  They're nervous, and I'm casually rounding up my gear.  They're focusing on it and telling all their friends, and I'm just cruising on up for a weekend vacation.  If I'm not careful with a long race like this, I know I'll have a lousy day - but I'll stick to my checklists, remembering that my organizational skills finally have found a good sporting-home.  I'll stick to smiling no matter the conditions.  As the race unfolds, I'll watch it with wide-open eyes to see how my body reacts to the new distance.  As the day arrives, I'll talk it up with my friends and on race morning I'll hope to meet some new ones, too.  Although it's not all race-day jitters, I feel ready, just a little different kind of ready.  My bike is in my car.  I'm "shaved and tapered."  Door County, here we come!

Race Report: Summerfest half-marathon

Interesting how things change when you make a race a "low" priority.

I wasn't going to race last weekend at all.  I had just gone hard in the sprint tri at Janesville, was going to do a nice long bike ride last weekend, then race the half-Iron distance up in Door County next weekend.  I recently got to focusing in on the Door County race, and got to thinking about how it will take something like 7 hours, and is a bona fide seriously tough endurance event.  Ooh, time to get serious there, Dano.

But my friends were talking about this half... all the Milwaukee gang from the San Diego team were signing up.  "If all your friends jumped off a cliff, would you, too?"  Well, sure - it wouldn't be much fun around here without any friends!

"We're getting the band back together"

The inaugural "Rock n Sole" half-marathon was part of Milwaukee's Summerfest, billed as the world's largest music festival.  Needless to say, I made my journey across the state on Saturday, to take in some of the fine midwestern-fair-style goodness that such a festival has to offer.  Deep-fried Reuben rolls!  Ice Cream!  A ride on the sky-glider, and as the day went on, plenty of Britney Spears fans dressed in all kinds of tragic.  Now, I may have been pretty loose, but I did stick to the basics.  I limited myself to only, ahem, a couple drinks... and sucked down quarts of water throughout the sunny day.  I had a delicious light pasta and tuna dinner and got to bed early.

Sunday morning I met up with the Team.  We gave Lauren (in the middle) a hard time for not wearing her purple shirt, but excused her on account of being in the middle of a move, and having the best race number.  Our TNT director, Naomi, is training for her first marathon and was at the line to run her own first half-marathon.  Dione was running with her sisters and dad in a big family day at the races.  And Mandee would be my running-mate, since she had been giving me a hard time about not being at mile 24 in San Diego as I told her, but more nearly 25.5, and I was looking to settle the score.  The sky was clear and hazy, the sun was already hot when the race started at 8.

And off we went!  As the conversations began, I came to realize that I was not the only one in the group who had barely run since San Diego back on June 6th!  This training void came to manifest itself a couple hours later, but hardly seemed any concern for the cheerful group.  I knew that I'd have to take it easy both to get through the race happily, and to keep my legs under control for the big race next weekend.  I took a lot of pictures, looked at the scenery, and even jumped over some obstructions like traffic barrels, just to keep it light.  The hot weather did not concern me as much as some others: I find that I thrive in adverse conditions.  This is where my mental stamina can lead me through the discomfort, and help me make smart decisions on the fly.  Something in my mind told me to hang on to my plastic bottle of water for at least the first couple of water stops, since I was queued up near the back, it was a super hot day, and it was an inaugural race.  I wanted to see what I'd find at the water stations first.

Sadly, there were some serious problems at the water stations ahead.  I could tell as we approached the first one and groups of runners were stopped, sort of huddled around it.  No water on the table.  One ran out of cups.  One ran out of water.  Some looked like they had too few volunteers for the thousands of racers.  On a day this hot, the race simply fell down on the job for not having enough.  I was glad to have that bottle in my hand, where it stayed the whole 13.1 miles.  13.3 if you count my short detour to some trees halfway through.

At one water stop, the volunteers were apologetically saying "I'm sorry, we don't have any more water." None to be seen.  I stopped and looked around, under the tables and nearby.  There were boxes of garbage and empty bottles ... I've run a lot of races, and I've also organized volunteers at water stations.  Somewhere there would be a little more water.  So I gave each of the trash-boxes a shake until - voila - one of them was heavy!  I rifled through it and pulled out an unopened gallon, filled up my bottle, then began filling all the empty cups in outstretched hands that suddenly appeared all around me.  A little bit in each, and we were feeding the masses.

It's a good point to debate:

Of course, each individual is responsible for their own health and well-being: to train, eat, drink, and pace appropriately for their own ability level.  The sport is growing, median times are getting slower, the field is getting older, and the field is getting bigger.  These figures are all great news to me: they mean that more people are challenging themselves with the marathon, and in turn likely getting moving, getting outside, losing weight, lowering their blood pressure, getting healthy, feeling empowered.  At the same time, more novices are entering races, many without the good tutelage of a coach, and sometimes getting in a bit over their heads.  Half-marathons aren't easy.  There were a lot of sirens blaring throughout the day, and that's bad news.

On the other hand, an entrant of any level makes a deal with the race organizers:  I'll give you $90, and you give me a safe place to run with the amenities listed in the race packet.  A course measured to be a certain distance, closed to traffic by police officers and barricades, hopefully in some kind of scenic location, within a certain cut-off time.  Water and Gatorade at given mileages.  Medical assistance.  One of the best parts of racing is trying out a new route and lightening up your own load by not having to carry all your own nourishment.  I like to be "lean and mean" on race day, carrying as little as possible with me (both in terms of physical and emotional baggage), but do recognize that I take a little risk in doing so.  I count on the race to give me the kind of nourishment they say, at the places they say.  When it's not there, my performance starts to change.  If I run slowly because the day is hot and the race can't provide me water, I don't want to see someone hold up a black flag and tell me I won't get a finishing time.

I'll set that debate down right there and we can continue in the comments or through the emails, yes?

I'm glad I made the trip.  The race was a lot of fun for me.  It was hot, but what the heck.  I poured water on my head (and Mandee's too, which I don't think she had tried before because she seemed to *really* like it) and kept smiling and moving forward.  What else can you do?  Stand in the finish chute to cheer in the rest of your friends, then celebrate with a cheeseburger.

The long way home

Happy 4th of July!

This weekend took me back to my parents' home - my "boyhood home", you might call it - on the rural far east side of Cleveland, Ohio.  It had been two years since I had been there, and although now I call Madison my residence, I was immediately relaxed and happy - this place is a part of me and one where I feel at home.

By way of Janesville, and the second annual Rock Roll n Run triathlon!  This is a small but mighty race: it's a sprint distance, with a fast swim downstream in the Rock River, a 14-mile rectangular bike ride through farm country, and a 3.1-mile run through downtown Janesville, featuring the Saturday farmers' market!  This year, 195 people participated in the race, many of them first-timers to the sport.  I had the joy of chatting with one newbie on the way into transition from the car - she was excited and I welcomed her!  My tri friends Lynn and Julia also came down to the race - not quite the group of 9 we rassled up last year, but very nice to be in the company of friends.  To boot, Julia won her age group, and Lynn took 5 whole minutes off her swim time from last year!  If you're in the area, save the date for the 2012 race.  The weather was hot and humid, and it was a good day for finding my edge, which I did.  It was well inside of the proverbial "pain cave."

There wasn't a shower on site, but there was a hose: that was enough to get me feeling somewhat clean after a tough day.  With a change of clothes and stick of deodorant, I put on my compression socks (and Crocs) and hit the road: since I was already an hour south, I figured why not just drive the other 8 1/2 hours over to Cleveland?!  It was a long haul, but I had some podcasts, good music, and good phone conversations to keep me occupied.  525 miles (and 1 time zone) later, I pulled in around 8pm, to a lush scene of flowers and landscaping: this is my parents' biggest hobby, and it certainly shows.  Only moments later did another car pull in, carrying my Texan brother's family back from a day trip, and streaming out of the doors were my two little nieces, running to me yelling "DAAAAAANNN!"  With that kind of welcome, I didn't even need to hold up my trophy from the race, I had all the accolades I needed.

Since my brothers and I grew up, the focus of these weekends has shifted to the little girls: the nieces and granddaughters.  Rightfully so, because they are very cute and a lot of fun.  I was glad to provide them with a lot of smiles, and probably some different perspectives than they were used to hearing, because my life is a lot different from theirs.  For the Fourth, the family went to Uncle Bill's house, a quintessential family meeting place for decades.  Bill has a large yard and deck, and even dug himself a lake - a fun place to play and a good place to land at the bottom of the single-kicker he uses in training Olympic-bound aerial freestyle skiers!

This time I added my own twist to the trip: since I had come by way of the Tri and had all my gear with me, I rode my bike to Bill's house.  I had done this once before, and everyone recalled it: back in high school, before I was in much shape, I attempted this ride... after riding for probably a couple hours, including over gravel roads, I ended up flatting my tire, and since of course I didn't have any repair equipment with me, I stashed the bike in some trees, and ran the last few miles to Bill's house.  No problem running because, of course, I didn't have clipless pedals either.  This time, it was a 17-mile cruise on my racing bike, over smooth paved roads at a high rate of speed: I knew the route so well from all my life's trips, even all the little hills, but it all looked completely different from the handlebars.  I reflected on what a different man I've become over those years, how I've come to see things differently.  Sometimes I wonder what life would be like if I had gotten in shape earlier - but I let these thoughts float by quickly.

As I climbed the final hill, I looked over my shoulder and saw that red car with Wisconsin license plates, and threw the hammer to stay in front of Mom and Dad.... with a 41-mph descent on the final hill, I stayed in the lead as we rolled into Bill's driveway!  I gave the family a quick hello, then ran right into the lake, where I stayed for the remainder of the day.  The ride only took me 50 minutes, but the family talked all day about what a feat this had been.  I guess I've come to see things a lot differently in this respect.

On Wednesday morning after breakfast and hugs goodbye, I hit the road to head back home to Wisconsin.  It was a good visit, and I never like to leave.  It was 7 am, and I was driving smoothly and gently, in a sentimental mood and thinking about the long haul ahead.  As I crossed town, I noticed that all those around me were making their way to work through the morning rush hour, darting in and out of lanes, zooming past, maneuvering, anxious.  It was almost as if all this was happening on a TV screen as I gently made my way.  I was satisfied with the progress I was making, knowing that I had to be patient for the day and just keep on going, regardless of these other drivers' objectives.  "Ride your ride."  When the gun goes off at 7am, I get to pick how I expend my energy, and although I share the road with the other racers, all I have to offer it is my own goal.  I made several stops to fill up my water bottle and use the bathroom, I tuned in to good music, and I gradually let go of the pain of having to leave this comfortable weekend behind.  There will be comfortable weekends ahead.  There is comfort in a long day on the road, with nothing else to do but keep moving forward.

When I pulled into my driveway in Madison around 4 in the afternoon, I thought, "In September, this is right about when I'll be starting my marathon."

"Race" Report: Mount Katahdin

Here's to another huge accomplishment for the brothers three!  Last week took me on a journey to the Maine Woods: a flight to Bangor and another hour's drive to Millinocket put me with my two brothers and two parents, in the shadow of the highest peak in Maine, Mt. Katahdin.

When I did my Ironman, my whole family traveled to Wisconsin to watch and cheer.  And, in kind, my entire family was gathered again, this time to celebrate an even greater accomplishment by my little brother: a northbound through-hike of the Appalachian Trail, from Springer Mountain in Georgia to Mt. Katahdin in Maine.  The entire ridgeline of the Appalachian Mountains: 2,181 miles on foot.  That's 82 marathons.  Alone.

Thursday morning, we got up early, fueled up, packed up, and climbed the 5-mile, 5,000-vertical-foot trail for more than 4 hours... then climbed back down.  We celebrated our accomplishment (with champagne and lots of food) and I got in bed at 8 pm.

Not an entirely foreign concept to me and my big brother, who have both completed Ironman Triathlons.  We know what it's like to spend a whole day moving, pacing, fueling, and sticking with it.  (I don't think either of us can remember our last 4-hour 10k... or our last race that included a mile of vertical gain).
The difference between something like the Ironman and this hike is that my little brother got up every morning and did it again, for 134 days.  Since February 17th, he was working toward this goal.  When it rained, he got into bed cold and wet, got up the morning and put his cold wet clothes back on, and kept on walking.

Here's a short slideshow I put together from our climb up Katahdin:

His "aid stations" were a week apart, in a box in some forgotten backwoods post office.  He talked about developing a different sense of time as the days blended together, sometimes without seeing a single other person.  I often contemplate and write about what goes through my head during my races - I can only imagine what it must be like to be in there for days on end.  I'm glad Jon and I were able to join him for that climb - it was tough, and it was a lot of fun, and it's the kind of thing that brothers ought to do together.  We were both emotional as David powered up those final rocky steps and placed himself on that epic sign: "KATAHDIN", because we sure are proud of him.

Read his own perspectives and see more photos at davidshike.com

Some people have remarked things like "I could never do that, I don't have the time", or "I don't have the money" or "I couldn't leave my job to go do that."  You're absolutely right.  It's not the kind of thing that fits into the ordinary flow of a life.  So many Americans grow up seeing 5-day workweeks and week-long vacations once a year.  It's hard to fit big experiences into that little box.  When you want to do something really epic, you have to jump completely out.  If that means leaving a job and being without a mailing address for a while, so be it.  Maybe it's another parallel to traveling light: who needs that stuff for 4 months in the woods anyway?

Congratulations, Brother!

Race Report: Triterium "tri" athlon

Happy Fathers' Day!  Dad, you are the best.

And, Happy Anniversary to me and triathlon!  Sunday was my third anniversary with the sport, which I celebrated by participating in the same tri that I did for the very first time back on that special day in June 2008.  Wow, four times in Verona.  This one was anything but routine.

My alarm went off at 4:45am.  Man, it's sure dark, I thought.  Then the second alarm went off.  (2 alarms is in the most-important-race-advice list).  Instead of the beginning of a sunrise, there was a huge thunderstorm!  No matter - I went through my usual routine, except that I limited the sunscreen to only my face, and put my bike in the trunk of the car instead of using the bike rack.  Beyond that, whatever.  Think about it: with the swim first, the sport is all about being wet all the time anyway.

I rolled on down to the race site in Verona.  I totally rocked out on the way there, as the sky cleared up.  I had pretty much been rocking out all weekend, including a break-from-ordinary going "out" Friday night, a 50-mile bike ride Saturday (after which I went to bed at 7 pm), now the short-course race Sunday.  I was amped up and ready to SPRINT!  (That is to say, 500 yard swim, 12 mile bike, and 3.1-mile run.)

The first 45 minutes or so were all the usual steps: arrive, proclaim my membership in the USA Triathlon organization, get my number, have smiling people draw on me with big sharpies, put on my chip, and set up my equipment on the rack in transition.  This year the racks were assigned, so I didn't have to laboriously choose the most strategically-perfect position.  While I was setting up, a young high-school -aged girl tentatively brought in her bike, and I warmly welcomed her and offered a couple tips as she set up.  I didn't want to be some kind of advice-giving know-it-all, but I thought some of the basics, like which way her bike should point, would be helpful for everyone!  I finished transition prep, covered up my things with a plastic bag, and put on the bottom half of my wetsuit.  It was raining again, and the neoprene suit helped me stay warm.  Shivering and cold, tight muscles are no way to start a race.

Photo by Krista V., podium finisher!

So there I was.  There the whole field was.  Beginning to assemble in little groups under the various tents and shelters as the sky darkened, the rain intensified and the thunder started to roll.  A 15-minute start delay, then another.  It wasn't all bad waiting - I didn't mind getting wet, because that's what the sport is all about, right?  And I had on my wetsuit, which was conveniently very warm!  I visited with several tri-friends and made a couple more as we waited.  Eventually, we came to the heart of the matter, which was the race director deciding that a swim would be too dangerous with the threat of a thunderstorm, so the swim was cancelled and the race would go on as a bike-run "not-so-tri-athlon.  Bring out your asterisks, record-keepers!  The streak continues!!

I write about what the races teach us: this was no exception.  Sometimes you don't get what you came for.  Sometimes you've got to take what you know and change it up quick to meet the changing conditions.  What did I know?  That I'm not a strong swimmer, so this could be helpful; on the other hand, that I know I'm not a strong swimmer.  I deal carefully with it to preserve my bike and run - while an impatient competitor might blast through the swim only to blow up later.  So, skill disadvantage gone at the expense of technical-aptitude advantage gone, too.  OK.  I'm usually pretty good in T1, but there is no T1 this time; so be it.  It's going to be wet out there, so if I wear my biking gloves, I'll be able to hang on tighter, but won't have to take any time (no T1!) to put them on - check!  And socks?  Ooh, I went around and around on those - because I still wear them in the races, even though they take a few seconds to put on.  But to have them just fill up with water and be heavy and chafe?  So I decided to go without them.  Like a professional!

What did I left have to do?  Simulate some of the swim movement to get my body ready to go.  What do I have to offer the racing community?  My good attitude and fun spirit.  Like my solo swim leg, which I gracefully performed laying in a huge puddle near the transition.

It was about this time that the race director called me over.  No, not for being in trouble, but to sing the National Anthem!  (We had pre-arranged this, don't worry, I was ready.)  This is another way I like to contribute: it was a particularly good moment to help center all the athletes and hopefully quiet their nervous jitters before the different race.  The "bombs bursting in air" seemed to be punctuated by the roll of thunder.

And then it was off to the races!  Everyone went to transition as if they had swam, and started one at a time (a "time trial" start, each with their own starting time based on their chip crossing the mat).  I was near the back of the line, and I was hungry for this race.  So I went out like gangbusters on the bike, and enjoyed passing other riders one at a time.   The course was hilly and I rode hard.  I kept it extra careful on the turns because of the wet roads, though the rain was starting to let up.  By the end of the 12 mile route, I was feeling that 50-miler from the day before, oh man, but I kept on pushing!

Anybody know how to fix this?

Flying up to the dismount line as the volunteers shout "slow down, slow down" - and then BOOM I'm off my bike and running across the grass into transition to drop my bike and switch to run gear.  Bad news, fans, as I was swinging my bike around onto the rack, I stepped on my carbon-fiber wheel fairing with my bike shoe-cleat and, yep, rrrrrip.  But there was no time to worry about that, it was time to put on my shoes and grab my visor, watch, and number belt and hit the road.  40 seconds later, I was dumping water over my head under the sunshine on the run course.

Perhaps it was the 34-mile marathon on June 5th, perhaps it was the champagne Friday, perhaps it was the 50-mile bike ride the day before, but holy ****, I got a crazy side stitch after 1 mile.  Just as my legs were finally getting into the rhythm after some seriously sore after-biking minutes.  I've hardly ever gotten side stitches, but this felt a lot like maybe one of my organs had burst and I was about to die.  I was trying to think of what organ was over there that I could tell them in the ambulance.  Naturally I kept on running and waved to the course-side volunteers, but noticed that as I said "thank you, officer", I was pretty much crying.  And then, I stopped.  I tried to breathe, to stretch, to close my eyes.  All I could do was say "body, let go of this."  After a moment, it sort of did, and I ran on - slowly.  And miraculously, somehow, it subsided.  I brought the pace back up, and when I passed the second water station, I threw a water on myself with great summer triathlon gusto and felt quite good.  For the last mile, I stretched out my stride and ran as fast as I could - after all, with a time-trial start, you never know who you might be right behind... or right in front of.

As it turned out, I won my age group!  (Fortunately, my nemesis didn't race, so the day was mine!)  I celebrated with some of the post-race goodies, like a free massage, some wings, and a ton of Oreos.  The prizes for age-group champions were bobble-head racer figures, how cool is that?  Here I am with Liz, a fellow tri-buddy, who was my counterpart winner in the women's division.  When I was chatting with her before the race, she was getting ready to pack it up and go home.  I'm glad I helped talk her back into it.  What did Darwin say, “It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.”

Making lemonade

Let me tell you, working a couple blocks from home is the only way to go.  Bike to Work week came and went without a change in my own routine, because it's already just a way of life for me.  I don't want to go back.  (I had one meeting in Wisconsin Rapids that week, 120 miles north, and opted for driving a state car there, though I really do want to ride to that office sometime)!  Sure, jobs and home situations change, sometimes suddenly, but a good degree of choice in these is one of the great American freedoms.  Sometimes people say to me things like "I could never bike to work, I live 30 miles away!" and I'm stumped on how to respond.  I'd like to say "where you live and work are really your choice, even if they can be a hard choice," but an elevator ride only lasts a few seconds.  Usually I take the stairs, 6 floors.  To each their own.

On Wednesdays I stroll through the Hilldale Farmers' market, where I pick up fresh local foods and plants.  Now that it's June, the tulips and hyacinths have gone back to their bulbs to wait for next spring (if I can keep the chipmunks off of them) while the ferms and hostas have exploded into hugeness while the air is still mild.  The lollipop-tops of the alliums have lost their flowers, but the seedhead-spheres still make for cool orbs floating over the rest of the garden.  Of course, fruits always top the list.  Big news: the strawberries are coming!  I've always planted the usual stuff in my garden: spinach, lettuce, etc., but noticed that I could never keep up with it.  It's always easy an inexpensive to buy at the farmers' market.  So this year, what the heck: I've been focusing on planting more of the FUN stuff, like fruits!  Isn't that what you *really* want to go out into the garden to pick?  The stuff that never even makes it back to the house, because I just sit in the garden and eat 'em as I find 'em.  Uh, oh, there's a thesis!  Plant the stuff you love - make space in your garden for the things you like the most - then get out there and eat it up!

They say if life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

Well, if you like lemonade: plant lemon trees!

Also in life...
Earlier this week, I traveled to Mineral Point to visit my friend Annika, a fellow Team In Training cyclist, blogger, and chicken-keeper.  She takes beautiful photos (see them at www.driftlessliving.com).  Well, for fun and in anticipation of the new blog, we did a photoshoot for me, which included walking, running, and bicycling.  That area is called the "driftless region" because the glaciers missed it - and there's some serious topo.  My top speed on one descent was 53.4 mph.  On bike.

Racing season is here!  Last night I did the second Aquathon, with what I felt were very good results.  I'm not the strongest swimmer, but over the course of this 1,000 yards, I found a good groove and even fell in behind another pair of feet that I could draft behind for half of the race.  I've never really been able to find a good draft before, and it was exciting to get into that zone and get sucked along!  Imagine how much easier 4,000 meters will be at Ironman if I do it there.  I put new elastic laces into my racing shoes so I could use them in triathlon, and I think they're going to be pretty swift.  Love it.  Sunday is my first tri of the season, the "Triterium" in Verona, WI - my fourth go at this race, the site of where it all began.

I hope that your summer is off to a good start, and that you've found time to enjoy the things you love.  Maybe step back and chop away something cluttering and nourish a perennial that will give you systematic joy.  Maybe come join me at the races - we'd love to have you.  Thanks for reading... until next time.

OK, my story's told for the day and it's time to get to work.  Be there in 5!