Dano's blog of Team in Training adventures!

The next step: TriTherapy.org

2011-07-29T14:23:00.003-05:00

Dano has a new home on the web!

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.
Thanks for joining me on the journey!

A different kind of ready

2011-07-14T19:59:00.002-05:00

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

2011-07-11T22:09:00.001-05:00

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

2011-07-07T08:06:00.000-05:00

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

2011-06-29T07:13:00.000-05:00

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

2011-06-20T22:20:00.001-05:00

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

2011-06-17T07:28:00.001-05:00

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!

Race Report: San Diego marathon!

2011-06-07T16:51:00.001-05:00

Just when I think that it doesn't get any better - it does. Again and again, Team In Training takes me to higher mountaintops and shows me the purest beauty of life and the human spirit. People coming together, helping each other, encouraging without boundaries, all while pushing themselves beyond physical limits they thought possible.

To be there as a coach makes me feel like I have made it. Coaching in the Big Game; San Diego is like the World Series of Team In Training. It's the second-largest national event, drawing over 3,200 participants from all 57 chapters across the USA and Canada, who raised over 9 million dollars to fight blood cancer. That's serious stuff. That says to anyone going through treatment or grieving a loss "we are with you, in full force."
Here's a photo from the inspirational dinner TNT holds for participants the night before the race. A picture, that is, of the second seating. John "The Penguin" Bingham delivered both touching and hilarious stories, and we helped one of our fellow runners remember his daughter who lost her battle, but motivated us nonetheless.

On Friday morning, I drove over from Madison to Milwaukee with one of my runners, Jess - and the car ride flew by as we recalled stories from the season and she considered, with some incredulity, how the race weekend had finally arrived. At the airport, we met up with the runners from Milwaukee. Friday morning, this group of groggy acquaintances exchanged some pleasant introductions during breaks from texting friends and wrapping up other things from the week; by Friday evening we were moving as a group, sharing personal stories, and fully engulfed in our Californian vacation. What a blessing to let go of the ordinary for a weekend and dive headlong into an experience.

As usual, Team In Training took care of all the transportation, lodging, and race registration, so it was easy to kick back and be on vacation. At the same time, I helped keep an eye on everyone as a coach - pointing out drinking fountains, suggesting easy activities, avoiding long hours on our feet. We first visited the race expo to pick up our race numbers - and I took photos as Jess and Dayo received their first-ever marathon bibs. When Jess was reluctant to buy a really nice-looking race jacket, I reminded her that she will only have one "first marathon." I'm glad I helped give her permission to splurge, because she loves the jacket. Not surprisingly, when I came across a TNT "Coach" jacket, I bought one of those, too!

We had dinner together in the gas lamp district and got to know each other. One of the most important things TNT teaches us is that you just never know. You never know what people are going through in their lives that they set aside for the weekend to come to the race. You never know what kind of connection they have to cancer or how dangerously close to them it's been. At the inspiration dinner, we honor all the survivors and when they stand up, it's always a surprise to see who's been through it, but never even mentioned it. Imagine what life would be like if we treated everyone like we just discovered they were facing insurmountable odds? How much better would life be then? Try it. Start today.

We walked home and got to bed early Friday night. Saturday morning I joined our state Director Naomi and my fellow coach Robyn at the staff meeting. There were literally hundreds, from all the chapters, gathered to prep for the race. I loved it. There I was: getting the inside scoop and tidying up all the details for the San Diego Marathon. I got my first "coach" bib - but no chip. Coaches are allowed on the course, and we do a lot of running, but we don't do it for ourselves, we do it for the participants. I like to modify the old race rule: "No chip, no time... no problem!" I did have my own personal goal of running my first 50k (31 miles) over the course of the day, which I would track using my Garmin GPS watch as I covered the course.

We decided that our day-before-the-race activity would be a trip to the beach! This would include a good deal of time riding public transit, which coach approves, because it's a fine way to see the city, but stay seated! I'm not sure San Diego would be a very good fit for me to live: a pretty strange group of people living there, from what I saw. Of course, the beach itself attracts all kinds... Nevertheless, teammate Jess stepped up to the plate with her excellent trip-planning and -guiding skills, and led us to the water, where she dipped her hand in the Pacific for the first time. We got plenty of photos before having a healthy lunch, then heading back for the inspiration dinner and getting to bed. Race day was upon us.

With a start time of 6:15am, we met in the hotel lobby at 3:45am to catch our bus. Though I had my things laid out and my alarm set for 3:20, I woke up at 2:55 and was wide awake. I slathered on sunscreen, suited up, packed a bag of everything I thought a coach ought to have on the course, and headed down. This is it. In the wee hours of the morning, when the team was a combination of groggy, nervous, and excited, I was glad to be there to lead them. Hopefully they were a little less anxious knowing that I had their back: I ensured they had chips, bibs, sunscreen, and body glide. I brought Gatorade and energy gels; I took photos the whole way. I helped them put on plastic bags on the way to the starting line so they didn't shiver away their energy stores, and I led them to the porta potties with the shortest lines. I was fortunate to have been assigned coaching duty on miles 22 - 26.2, so that I would have time in the early morning to go to the start with my team. The faster runners on our team voluntarily moved back to corral 22 so that we could all toe the line together, and we were early enough to get a spot right at the front. The open road was before us, our worries were behind us, and all our training was inside us.

I shouted my final piece of advice: "THIS IS NOT A DRILL!" The horn blew and the moment we had all been waiting for arrived.

Without meaning to, "leaping off things" became a trend of the weekend. In touring around town, we had come across a couple roadblocks, which I simply leapt over; the Team followed with a few eye rolls. Well, once I reached mile 1 of the marathon with my team, it was time to get to work: time to short cut over to mile 24! Once again, I leapt - this time off an overpass - to get down to the mile 10 mark down below. I ran along (and even saw the Kenyans come by in the lead) for about 5 miles, making a couple stops to check the map and scramble up embankments or across medians and whatnot, to get across the course in the quickest way.

My assignment was one of the toughest parts of the race: the island. Around mile 22, runners can see the finish line in front of them, but must make a turn and travel around a 3-mile island, devoid of any trees or even features. And there I waited in the shade of a UPS truck, clapping for the Kenyans, drinking lots of water, fueling up on Powerbar, until the first purple shirt arrived.

He came up with another TNT coach, who briefed me that he was looking to qualify for Boston and holding firm to a mid-7-minute per mile pace. The runner himself barely spoke - he was right at the breaking point. So I said a few words of encouragement, and quietly ticked along with him for nearly two miles at the perfect pace, minding the task at hand. Once he got to the next water station, my day had begun: I turned back and ran 'upstream', alongside the course, cheering on the runners until the next Purple shirt arrived. Soon enough, a fit and jovial fellow came cruising along and I joined him. I asked how many marathons he had run and he replied casually "oh, I don't know, a bunch... but this is my first one back since treatment."

Team In Training. Saves. Lives. A Boston-qualifying marathon after having a disease that was once called "100% fatal." Thank you, Team In Training.

Other features of the morning included putting my arm around a (non-TNT) runner drastically weaving around the course, then helping him to the ground and helping keep him conscious until race medical people arrived. Running alongside another man just hanging on to his Boston-quailfying time: as he approached and saw me, me beckoned me over to run with him - I liked that, I liked knowing that I could help. I asked about his honored patient, and suddenly the perspective seemed to change. As these runners came through, I kept drifting farther and farther downstream, until I eventually stuck with one runner all the way to the finish line. It's the best thing a coach can do: jump in alongside someone and support them in the toughest parts of the course. I said, "I'll turn back now, or if you'd like I'll stick with you." "Could you stay with me a little longer?" "I'll stay with you all the way to the end." That's what it's all about. How rewarding to sit at the dinner table after the race, and have people I had never seen before that morning thank me for running with them. Don't thank me - you're the one who did all the work! I could think of nothing I would rather have been doing than bringing home TNT runners all day long.

Soon enough, the runners from Wisconsin came by, one by one. I had really hoped to run with them around the whole island, because it was so tough - and they each recounted later how they were thinking "where's Dano?!" I know, I know - I ran as fast as I could to get back up the course, but I kept getting so excited when I saw a runner who seemed like I could help them, that I kept running back and mostly stayed between miles 25 and 26. They came by in various states of physical well-being, but all of them were positive and excited about the finish. I was so moved as I sent them into the finish chute - it was certainly an emotional day for many.

All told, I ran to the finish line 13 times and exceeded my own distance goal by running 34 miles in my 8-hour-10-minute day on the course. Each time I went to the end, I thought "give me more!" I overheard some spectators say "there he goes again!" I had a high that I needed to keep feeding, the joy was simply contagious. I can only ever have my own first marathon finish once, but on this day, I felt it over and over again. So much hard work, faith, patience, courage, and perseverance goes into finishing a marathon. The reward is a feeling of satisfaction so overwhelming that you feel indestructible, and a title of "marathon finisher" that cannot ever be taken away.

The day concluded as the final TNT participant walked down the final stretch. As she did, each coach and staff member stationed along the course fell in line with her - so that as she approached 26.2 miles, she wasn't last and she sure wasn't alone: 300 of us all joined her across the finish line. In our camp, nobody ever gets left behind.

Sometimes I tell people about the races I go to, and they ask if I won, or who won the race.

You want to know who the winner is in this race? The one wearing a purple shirt.

The thrill of victory doesn't fade

2011-05-25T07:25:00.001-05:00

First, to my long-time and repeat sponsors who are visiting again: a special thank you. Welcome back. This season, with your help, I'm going to raise another $4,000 toward the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society's specific goal of not just fighting, but curing blood cancer. "Go big or go home", they say. You can take that as a challenge, I guess.... here's the link ->

A reminder, if you'd like to read my blog but not have to navigate to this address, just fill in the little box to the right under "get an email when I write a new post", and it will be sent directly to your inbox. You'll stay connected, and get to be one of the first to see my new website when it arrives this summer.

The thrill of victory doesn't fade overnight. Long after the race ends, the crowds have gone home, and the rest of life returns, you're still a finisher. It's been said "there will be days when you don't know whether you can run a marathon, and a lifetime of knowing that you have." Indeed. That medal may keep its prominent position on the wall forever. Many things come and go in this life, but these big accomplishments, once completed, cannot be undone.

The finish chute is disassembled and moved on to the next race somewhere. It beckons. The first day, the legs are very sore and it's slow going. Down stairs is the toughest on the day after a marathon - the trick is to go down backwards! I've been sleeping extra, eating extra, staying healthy and regaining my "regular" feeling. By Wednesday, the soreness has usually begun to wear off, and the extra time off from training gives a few minutes of pause: "wow, what will I do with all this extra time?" people often ask. "When will I see my running buddies again?" And by Thursday, you miss it to the point where you begin to wonder: "maybe I should do another one." The same human brain phenomenon that causes women to forget the intense pain associated with childbirth must be at work here - the hardest, most painful parts of the race have lost their edge while that sweet finish sensation remains. Or, the hardest parts remain, but with an important purpose: they are the obstacles overcome in order to earn that finish. Permanently.

I did get a lot of remarks about my hair from coworkers on Monday morning. Most of them pretty positive - and it was a good opportunity to talk about the race and TNT. As the days have gone on, the green has faded to mostly-blonde, but I've come to like it. Maybe it's more "casual" than usual, but it's been a reminder for me that my commitment to the Team goes beyond race day. I'm proud of what my team has accomplished and I'm glad to talk about it. I'm eager to invite more people to join us, I'm comfortable talking about our mission and fund raising, because it's all something I believe in. Even if it may appear a little goofy at first, it's worth standing out.

Race Report: Aquathon #1.

2011-05-21T15:59:00.000-05:00

Multisport season has begun!

Kate's first body-marking

One of the great joys of living in an active town like Madison is the prevalence of local races. The aquathon is a perfect example: an inexpensive, 7pm Thursday night jaunt, made up of a 1000-meter swim plus a 5k run. Though it's small and completely casual, there's music, lifeguard support, snacks, and full chip timing! Strong work, Ryan and Race Day Events. 81 people showed up for this first race in a series of six, with guts enough to jump into Lake Mendota, many for the first time. The weather was warm and calm, and the lake surface was like glass. More accurately, like ice. The water temperature on May 19th? 56 degrees. Ugh.

Suiting Up!

Among the field were two important athletes: Kate and Julia, members of the Team In Training spring triathlon team. They began their training journey in January, and have been raising money to benefit the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society while training for the Elkart Lake Tri coming up in June. Their team is made up of others as well, but I single out Kate and Julia because this was their first-ever multisport event! Coach Rebecca and I showed them the basics of transitions, helped them put on wetsuits (it was the Team's second open-water swim of the season) and stuck with them through the race.

As the swim began, there seemed to be a general hesitation to really get going. The horn blew, and everyone ran into the lake. It was pretty shallow... people kept running. Then ran a little more. Once it finally got deeper, it was time - and just as the race director warned us, it was like a big ice cream headache! My wetsuit was pretty warm and buoyant, my ear plugs helped me stay balanced, my feet were beginning to warm up, my goggles fit fine - but my face, oh the cold! I turned my head to the side to take a breath, and nothing seemed to want to go in. A little bit at a time, I got into my rhythm, and eventually the ice cream headache subsided, and the season was off and running. As Kate and I turned the corner at the first buoy, the sun came out from behind a cloud and illuminated all the swimmers, buoys, and shore ahead of us in a brilliant evening light - and I felt glad to be out in the lake, playing at a sport I love.

I was also glad to connect at the race with my friend Kristin and catch up a bit. I wasn't expecting to see Kristin at the race: I had just read her race report about the 50-mile ice age trail run she completed last weekend. Wow! Apparently "active recovery" works well for her, and she was here to also kick off the lake-swimming season, and work out some of the 50-mile-stiffness in her legs, I guess! Kristin is pretty much my hero. She's unstoppable, in smiling and running, as well as blogging and cooking. Here's my blog-shout-out to Kristin!

Congratulations to all who braved the arctic waters and finished the first aquathon. Let's do it again! (June 16th) Welcome, Kate and Julia, to this crazy world we call "multisport." And here's to a safe and "slippery" summer gliding through the lakes. Cheers!

Race report - Green Bay marathon

2011-05-16T08:52:00.001-05:00

A lot has changed since our first meeting back in January. The season's kick-off had been cancelled on account of a blizzard. I introduced myself to the new Team and told them to get excited for a photo, and they all sort of looked at me like they were saying to themselves "what have I gotten myself into?" We headed out for a short 3-mile run in the snow, and I ran back and forth trying to meet everyone and figure out what kind of running experience they had. Many were making their first foray into endurance running, and had doubts, but I knew something that they didn't. I knew what this weekend was going to look like.

52 Team In Training participants from around the state raised money this spring and trained for the Green Bay half and full marathons. Saturday, we converged on Lambeau Field for the race. Most people were driving up, and I was even a little bit behind schedule, having accompanied one of my other runners (Jess, training for the San Diego Marathon in June) on her first 20-mile training run Saturday morning. I biked while she ran! At home, I skipped the nap I hoped to take, prepared my race equipment, and headed northeast toward Green Bay. A bit behind schedule, some rain, a navigational error... I was a bit worn out.

Coach Rachel and I demonstrating
what *not* to do at the finish line

But then I arrived, and everything else in the world melted away. This is the beauty of event weekend - everything else can go on hold for a while, I can become a tourist in any town, I can focus in on the important people in my life and their pursuit of a worthwhile goal. You see, this was my first event weekend as a TNT coach, and was I ever excited. I was excited to be there to energize and guide people toward their goal. I was glad to have experience with racing that I could share with them to help make them successful. Who would ever think to wear a large garbage bag to the starting line to stay warm in the wind before starting to run? Who would have skipped the sunscreen because it was cloudy in the morning? Who might not have stuck with the training program if not for the group of teammates and leaders encouraging them along?

It has been a great privilege to be a coach for the world's largest endurance sports training program, perpetuating the good advice that my own coaches and mentors have given me, and trying to show people the great joys that running, walking, giving, and healthy lifestyles can offer. What more could a man want to do with his spare time? What better way to spend Saturday mornings than outside with dedicated people who care?

One downfall of green hair...

Ah yes, why the green hair? Well, as they say, "Go big or go home!" (In our group, we sometimes say "Go Team or go home!") This is Green Bay after all, and our team colors are purple and green. TNT leaders like to go all out for event weekend, to show that not only are we a lot of fun - and easy to find in a crowd - but we are totally committed. You can know my heart is entirely in it when I take off my visor and you see it's not a wig... and it's not going to come out before I get to work on Monday morning. Let's hope it starts some conversations that bring awareness and support to cancer research and patient support!

The Wisconsin group - ready to head to the starting line

Race day was a chilly and cloudy day which eventually gave way to some nice sunshine and mild temperatures. However, a strong wind stayed with the runners the whole time. A wind to the tune of 35 mph, blasting out of the northeast, which manifested itself as a headwind for the marathoners from miles 16 through 21. This race required some serious mental fortitude.

Amy's first full, Marc's first half! (with Mentor Luke)

And plenty of fuel...

A stash of pretzels - fuel for the long miles!

I walked with the group down to the starting line and helped keep everyone feeling good. Spirits were high and everyone was ready to get going on their journey. Over 10,000 runners took to the street that morning. After the gun went off and I cheered the runners on their way - I switched into my coach duties. TNT coaches spread themselves out around the course, so that as our runners come by, we can join them for a period of time, be sure everything is OK, and provide someone to talk to with encouragement as they go. My assignment was miles 12-14... so I had plenty of time to sit inside (where it was warm) while the runners traversed the fist portion of the course. From there, I went to mile 10 to cheer and run with some of the half-marathon runners as they approached the end of their race. A lot of smiles, and runners looking strong.

As the first full-marathoners approached, I made the turn down into those middle miles, accompanying several runners on their way. Most were still feeling good as they crossed the 13.1-mile mark, with the sun coming out and the wind at their backs. After running along with each one for a bit, I'd turn back and run upstream until I saw the next, then repeat until our team's last runner came along.

Or so I thought - I have only one disappointment from the day. We had gotten information from the medical tent that one of our runners had to drop out because of some muscle problems - sad news, but we were relieved that they told us her family was there and she was feeling better. They must have been thinking of someone else, because our own Amy was actually out there all along, conquering the miles and the wind, probably only about a mile behind us. I wish I could have run some of those miles with her, like we had run together in training. However, Amy's family was following her on the course through the day, and we were waiting for her at the finish line. Special accolades to Amy for conquering a particularly grueling day!

Fellow leader Mike made the best of his ankle injury this season by helping support us from his bike. Mike-on-a-bike, as we've come to call him. He carries food and drinks, and a big smile. On Green Bay race day, Mike also sported a full Elvis outfit, and was undoubtedly the best-looking bike support person on the course.

Mike, our bike supporter - in full Elvis getup, naturally.

The last 10k is the biggest, baddest, toughest part of the marathon. In here, runners enter an emotional state we call the "bite me" zone, where they tend to get quiet and grumpy, and wonder what the heck inspired them to do this ridiculous race in the first place! This is a great place to be a coach, because I can do the talking, or even just be there in the quiet, while the ground passes underfoot. With Team In Training, you are never alone. I take that charge personally - and truly enjoyed my afternoon with Janel and Wendy as they made their way to the finish line in Lambeau field. All told, I ran 22.5 miles of my own that day, and have those tender legs today reminding me of the victories of yesterday. I didn't run my own marathon, per se, but I was there with my teammates who did, and I consider that a far greater victory.

Running with Janel across the 20-mile mark
Her longest run ever ... and on to the finish

Wendy crosses mile 26 with a lap around Lambeau Field

Amy finishes her first 26.2-mile full marathon! You did it!

Lake Monona 20k... Green Bay is coming

2011-05-08T20:31:00.000-05:00

Spring time is here, at last. Warm air, flowers, and long days. Thank goodness.
With the long days come shorter evenings - by the time it's dark outside and time to head in, there's not much left before bedtime. The earlier bed time can be, the easier it is to get up in the morning and take in the sweet early-morning sun that has arrived as well. So much sunlight, so many joys of summer.

Seems that many of my tri friends feel a bit behind this year. It was pretty cold for a long time. It was a bit too wet and gritty to get my new white bike out for a while there. It seemed to be dark in the morning for a long time this year.

Here we are.

The Lake Monona 20k was last weekend - "almost a half-marathon." The weather was good, and I had a good time running long with old friends Krista and Nichole, and a couple of new friends I met on the course as well, as I bridged the various paces my TNT groups was running. This has been the spring of running for me - I'm finally really enjoying it, and feeling natural and good at it. The flip side to these sensations is the cumulative leg-fatigue that comes with a lot of running. Touche'.

Last night was the annual Abundance Celebration at Inner Fire Yoga. I loved it because for all the times I go to the studio and practice, and see the same people over and over, I seldom have the occasion to talk to any of them. Funny, how it feels like I know so many of them in class, from familiarity - but hardly so in regular clothes, making conversation. Here's to old friends and new, one in the same.

And finally, in one more week, we'll be in Green Bay. Actually, in a week we'll be on our way home, from some of my teammates' first marathon! I simply cannot wait to be there to help them celebrate their accomplishments. What a ride it's been to coach athletes all season to that starting line - the finish line will truly be incredible.

No photos this post? Nope - I've been shooting mostly video lately, preparing a new music video about Team In Training! Stay tuned....

Start Spreading the News

2011-05-01T17:07:00.001-05:00

Big news - last week the drawing was held for the New York City marathon, and would you believe it - I'm in! Tens of thousands of people enter to run this classic marathon, and the field is limited to "only" about 50,000. Many more than that enter the lottery, and are sadly turned away ... "maybe next year." Fortunately, there is a special rule that if a person doesn't get in through the lottery for three years, their persistence (and misfortune) is ameliorated by being granted a spot automatically. I figured, what the heck, there's a chance I'll get in, and if not, I'll have started that 3-year clock ticking. Running is going well now, but I'm not getting any younger!

I got in. How about that?! I hate to boast loudly, because I have friends who did not get in - again. A year is a long time to wait, just to try again. Here I got in on the first try... but that's how "odds" work, after all. I'm going to run the New York City marathon! (Any readers over in NYC want to put me up for a couple of nights?!)

It's on 11/6/11. Only 8 weeks after Ironman, which may make for a fall of very sore legs. But, at least I can be confident that I'll be in good shape, and have my long miles in! Here's a funny sentence that just went through my head: "Ironman will be great training!"

I give credit to marathon karma. See, last year on my way back from Athens, I connected in Newark. After the 13-hour westbound Atlantic flight, the last plane to Madison had already left, so the connection was overnight. I did this intentionally when I set up the travel, because I thought first, a night in NYC is cool and second, a lengthy stop will be a good chance to start taking care of that ugly westbound jetlag. It also crossed my mind that I might just wake up on Greece time, and have a great chance to go to the City early and see the marathon. Well, at 3:30am, I was indeed wide awake (9:30 in Greece!) and headed downtown. All the runners were heading to Staten Island for the start, so the early morning scene at the finish in Central Park was quiet and nearly empty. I couldn't help but feel the draw of that course - it has a special magic about it. That ING blue and orange... the big city... I got a photo near the finish, but didn't dare walk beyond the 26-mile banner: this is sacred territory, and I knew there was only one way to get down to that finish line: earn it. Get lucky in the draw, train diligently, then, some November, run 26.2 miles to get there.

Without a whole lot of time before the plane back to Wisconsin left, I took the subway across town to head off the racers. I made it there in time to see the wheelchair racers, pro men and pro women come by. Wow! Definitely a world-class field, including the current world-record holder, Haile Gebrselassie - who retired after that very race. To see him in person was a thrill. To see him in New York amidst all the excitement of the NYC marathon, having just completed my own pilgrimage to the site of the original marathon, was even more meaningful. Sure, there was a statistical chance of having my name drawn - but as I consider how I looked to NYC last November, and how it made me feel, there was a special connection that caused me to enter in the first place. New York City here I come.

A Walk in the Woods

2011-04-27T19:35:00.001-05:00

Another month goes by without a peep from me. On the blog anyway. But that's not to say that I haven't been thinking a lot - and having a lot of experiences worth writing about.

I took a short vacation last week to visit with my little brother David, who is spending his spring through-hiking the Appalachian Trail, from Georgia to Maine, over 2,100 miles. Shout out: Read more at davidshike.com Another way to say that: 82 marathons. In a row. On freeze-dried foods and overnight rests in a tent or shelter. I took the overnight train from Chicago and stepped off onto the platform at Harper's Ferry, WV, a world away from my life in Madison, on the banks of the Shenandoah and Potomac Rivers. I had on a backpack, and didn't need anything more. I stood for several minutes and looked out at the river, and watched the train pull away, in no rush to do anything at all, before turning toward town to see my brother coming around the corner. He had traveled about 250 miles farther than me to get to that train station, in about two months, on foot. He also had on a backpack - which contained his food, stove, shelter, and clothing.

We spent three days hiking together: 18, 16, and 14 miles. Admittedly, our parents met up with us and helped haul the bags from point A to B so that David could have a well-deserved lighter load for a few days, and so rookie-hiker Dano could keep up with David. I consider myself in good shape to travel on foot, but was exhausted from 7 hours of walking each day. It was likely 7 hours because of all the photo opportunities I took along the way - but David was a good sport about it. The wilderness is lovely, the trail underfoot well-marked but by no means smooth. The route follows ridgelines... down into valleys and back up again, over and over. The trees were flowering and beginning to bud, and although we were soaked through, there was no snow in sight. We didn't necessarily talk a whole lot, but it was probably a lot more than he usually says to anyone on any given day, and I certainly learned a lot about the experience he's having. It's tough. It's bone fide. I have huge admiration for what he is accomplishing - every day as I work, read, write, train, sleep... he's out on the trail, making his way to Maine. Godspeed, Brother.

I flew home early Friday morning, and put in nearly a full day of work at the office before going home, taking a hot shower, and getting into bed early. Even with the heat off, the house was 60 degrees, and everything was dry. The fridge and the pantry were full, the router blinking. There were 1700 square feet of luxuries that somehow all seemed a little less relevant after a long walk in the woods.

Here's a little video I made to honor the midpoint of my brother's journey:

Coming soon...

2011-03-31T21:09:00.000-05:00

My new website is coming soon .... things are coming together! I am looking forward to continuing blogging, but maybe with a little more focus, and with a little more personal twist. Plus - in my own, short, domain. The new site won't be much different from this one I expect, but should give me the chance to muse into some more interesting topics. I hope you'll come along. Stay tuned.

Meanwhile, in the training department things are picking up again. I've re-established an 8-hour per week training base, which came back to me pretty easily. So far, there aren't any really long sessions besides my long Saturday runs with the team - but those miles are starting to get high. 12 last week, 10 this week, and then on to 15. With April on our doorstep, the spring marathons are getting close. As the days get warmer, I'll be back out on the bike, and then the training hours will really come easy.

I've gone to two-a-day workouts on Tuesdays and Thursdays, combining morning or early-lunchtime swimming or yoga with my afternoon runs. The work days remain 8 hours, but they start to spread out when they switch from 8 in a row to 8 with a big break. Nonetheless, I've been honest with myself: I don't feel great in the mornings. My guts just have a hard time getting going. However, I like to be up early and I'm pretty tough about it; even cheerful. It's just the idea of getting up early to do a swim workout feeling yucky never really seems like it will lend itself to the most productive swim workout. So - why not still get up early, but head on in to work? Then by the time I've had some breakfast, gotten some things done, and begun to feel antsy being "seated" at my desk, I'm ready to get up and work out. Brilliant. When I return to the office, I'm hungry for a satisfying post-workout lunch, filled back up with energy, and ready to take on the afternoon. A few hours to sit and digest lunch, fall into the post-lunch slump, finish off some projects, then pick myself back up for the post-work workout, which always perks me back up.

Today I did my first session of hill repeats on Bascom hill downtown at UW - wahoooooo, that's a serious climb. Well, it's not super high or steep, I guess, but when taken at a tough pace it just keeps on going and going... by the half-way mark I can tell it's a really, really good workout. It's fun to be far from alone: at this time of year in this healthy little city, runners are all over the place, and I'm glad to be one of them.

Energy, Continuity, and Momentum

2011-03-26T15:31:00.000-05:00

I spent the week in a DOT training course on highway hydraulics. Sounds riveting, doesn't it? Well, to be honest - it is! Water is an impressive and interesting substance: I've written about its strength, its ability to change phases, and more. It doesn't change directions easily, so a stream of it can carry a lot of material around (such as, say, Louisiana), or destroy roadways and buildings, as has been all to evident in the news from Japan. Our bodies are mostly made up of it, so its clean supply is a top priority in international relations security. (Where it might not appear to be now - it sure will be in the future.)

Water is also reasonably easy for me to understand in a scientific or engineering setting. It's like an object one might study in simple physics, experiencing effects from gravity and friction. On top of that, it occupies the shape of whatever it might be contained inside, often tries to escape, and is influenced by pressure... *sigh*, it has so many more exciting properties. What did I sit down to talk about? As a preface, I'm including a very brief movie, from a recent swim form-check, and from the flume, used to demonstrate hydraulic properties.

Well, to analyze hydraulics, scientists have developed a few key equations. Fundamental principles that sum it all up - and when applied can be used to predict water's behavior, in pretty much any situation, from a stream to a storm drain. The three components? Energy, Continuity, and Momentum.

Ha - how about that, blogger-writer Dano thought! Just like in triathlon! Especially on the bike, the simple principles of physics seem to make a lot of sense. Put energy into a system (me!) to make it go up a hill: then find myself full of potential energy, the conversion of which to kinetic energy in the form of a descent equals FUN! Momentum is a great piece of physics to take advantage of as the descent of one hill gives way to the climb of the next one. Swimming through the water is, I believe, the best way to understand its properties first-hand, and understand the significance of momentum through the water. There's a magic feeling in striking a harmony where body position and stroke mechanics give way to gliding through the pool or lake.

Momentum and Continuity speak loudly to me as a parallel with training overall: the overall goals, and the consistency of training tend to translate into good outputs. Continuous operation along a plan, toward a goal. Put energy in as breakfast and watch it come out as activity. The body is a fantastic machine; water is one interesting substance.

DATA

2011-03-22T22:20:00.000-05:00

Welcome to season four.

This time - with MORE DATA!

I've always been reluctant to jump on the gadget bandwagon. I like to "simplify". I take good care of the things I buy, I tend to select well-reputed instruments that are likely to respond to my care with long service lives. When I'm not using them, I put them away - and yes, I keep all the cables bunched up with rubber bands so they don't make a big sloppy knot.
And at the bottom line, two of my values in this arena are: it's more important to have meaningful relationships with the people right next to you than focus in on some electronic device, and there is no substitute for the engine.
I enter my fourth season as a runner with a slight tear in the band of my original 4-function Timex Ironman watch, which sometimes takes in a little moisture through the tiny crack in its face, but which also saw me safely and happily through 140.6 miles of serious racing and much more. There are clocks all over the races, anyway. In one like Ironman, you can get a lot of timing information right from the sun!
I've often run with friends with Garmins. Some of them are cool: they can tell those running with them how far they've gone in addition to the time; they can also always find their way home if necessary. Sometimes, these runners are annoying, using the instantaneous speed indicator to constantly blurt out a pace that I don't always really care about on every run. How does it feel? Perceived exertion is an excellent indicator - and even fluctuates as necessary based on what one has to offer the workout on any given day. When the numbers on a clock take away from the joy of running with a friend and talking about something, I'm not so interested anymore.
So it was with caution that I began to consider a Garmin of my own. I had a large REI dividend coming. I love to track all the elements of my workouts, sometimes mapping out detailed routes to find out where I should go, or where I've been. I'm not judgmental about them, but I love to look at the numbers. I love the data. I plot it out, I color it in, I group it in different ways, I check its trends. So I got to thinking - if there were a way that I obtain all this data - and more - while spending *less* time on gathering it, and effectively not even have to pay for it (ie, dividend), well, wouldn't that be cool?
So with the promise to myself that I would use it for purposes of good, I jumped in. Man, this thing is awesome. As with many of my purchases, I opted to save several hundred dollars by not buying the state-of-the-art version with functions I would never use, but I'm still thrilled with all the ForeRunner 205 gives me. On the go, I can see things like my time (duh), pace, and distance. It can tell me how to get home, show me a map of where I've gone, estimate how many calories I've burned. If I want, it will beep at me if I go too fast, or too slow, or cross certain benchmarks. It even has a Virtual Training Partner who will "run" at a given pace so I can "race" him. Or her :)
At home, the fun intensifies. I can see the route I took overlaid on an aerial map, a street map, or Google Earth. I can see my total time, running time, elapsed time, stopped time.... distance, splits, paces, elevation... graphs of speed versus time with elevation overlaid... even an interactive map-elevation-pace spread.
It works on the bike, so I don't necessarily need an additional bike odometer. It works on the run, so I don't necessarily need to plot out a detailed route. After a week, I've already realized the power this device has to let me bolt out the door completely free, and gather the information I want - on the go. I can spend more time training and less time plotting and charting.
Not to mention, as the winter gives way to spring but the mornings are still pretty dark and some of the days are still pretty chilly, it's a good extra motivator to get out the door and go play with the new toy.

Race Report: Shamrock Shuffle

2011-03-14T22:20:00.000-05:00

The second week of March in Madison .... ahhh, good times. The sun is warm enough to linger on the front steps for a few minutes in the afternoon, after checking on the day's progress of peeking tulip tops and blooming snow drops. Piles of snow are melting away to reveal the earth below, and plenty of grit on the road otherwise beckoning: "get out your bikes!"

Although road racing in Madison never really stops, the onset of early spring signals the beginning of the new season - both in sunlight and in numbers. Last week turned over the 6-months-till-Ironman mark! So, whether I'm still feeling lethargic in the morning or not, it's time to get down to business. More on that later. Although we lost an hour of sleep to daylight savings' time, Sunday was a successful morning.

The Team In Training gang, made up of current and alumni participants, was large in number and in attitude. Folks seemed to be having a good time as they gathered at Overture Center to prep for the race. Some were taking on their first race ever! I get really excited to experience this accomplishment for my friends. Very proud of everyone who came out and sported TNT on the course, and especially those who did for the first time.

I lead the team through some warm-ups down in Overture, then we took to the street! As usual, it was festive and there were a lot of fun outfits out there. (Go tutu runner kph !) The 10k went off first and I was able to hand out some high-fives to my teammates as they streamed across the starting line. Next came the 5k. Now, I try not to be too much of a competitive guy, but I do pay attention to my own Personal Records. It's a good way to keep pushing myself, which I think is useful. Of course, sometimes to win at your own game, you have to play the numbers. I looked at my training at this time last year, and the year before; I looked at my 5k and 10k times, I looked at my mileage so far this year... blah blah, and came to the conclusion that if I was going to have a go at keeping up the PR streak, I'd better tackle the 5k, and go all out.

I went ahead and started near the front, so I could follow Jackie's great advice that she gave me two years ago about spring races. They're good tests (and it doesn't matter what grade you get as long as you're honest with yourself), and they're short, so go out hard, and see if you can hang on! And so I was off. No intention of trying to hang with the couple of packs I saw blasting off the front: dudes who win 5k's run way faster than I ever will - they're specialists and track guys whose paces begin with "5". No thanks. Before a minute passed, I was already going past the back of the 10k field, which had only started moments before. It was cool to see a couple of my marathon teammates, who were prudently putting in their long run for the day on the 10k course, at a speed more appropriate for marathon training!

Then the hills. Even in the short span of a 5k, this race goes up over Bascom Hill ... and back! Climbing, climbing, I tried to mind my form, keep powering up, and yet not completely explode. The other runners were quiet, so I had to do a little encouraging of my own. After a solid climb, I leveled out and gathered my stride, then went careening down the back side of the hill. The course split, and a volunteer waved and shouted "5k left, 10k straight." I banked left, still careening downhill, then leveled off on the flats. A moment later, I got a very strange feeling. All the other runners around me were going much, much slower. There didn't seem to be any other runners really pushing it.

Holy crap, I thought, I've gone the wrong way. My worst nightmare. That volunteer made a mistake or I didn't hear him right, and after all that hard work, I'd have to give it all up. What would I do? I couldn't go back onto the 5k course, I'd be DQ'd for deviating from the course! I could just go ahead and finish the 10k unofficially... maybe I would still get a time? I'd certainly have to ease up from this ridiculous pace, though. Oh, dear. My PR. My teammates will get a laugh about it, anyway.... this went on for a minute or so, as I eased off my running pace - until a sleek guy in a black Fleet Feet jacket passed me. I thought about it for a minute - this guy looks pretty serious. He's here, too. Did he make a mistake, too? I shouted out "hey, are you running 5k or 10k?" He said 5k. "Well - what are all these other people doing here, then?" They started early, with the 10k wave, to get a little extra course time, or because they got antsy and just started early, he noted. Um, duh Dano. Perhaps the hill climb had made me lose my better judgment. I chatted with the Fleet Feet fellow for a minute - very pleasant guy - then thought I'd better be quiet because we were racing and I didn't want to be annoying, especially since he just saved me from my mental oversight.

So then there were two more miles. Phew. Kept pushing on the flats, grabbed a cup of water that I barely didn't choke on, then ran back up over that monster hill! The walkers were heading the other direction at that point, and were very supportive, which I was glad to receive. I was feeling pretty bad - you know, gasping and spitting and whatnot - so it was good to hear some encouragement! I run this hill in training sometimes, which is good mental practice, to know what it feels like on the legs, heart and lungs. Answer: "not too good!" Some days, for some of us, this is a lot of fun. Why? I don't know. I crested and went careening down the other side of the hill in the other direction, finally making my way home. At this point, I had left the Fleet Feet guy behind and was inching toward a certain green-shirt-guy in front of me, but he could hear me close to him and he had it turned way up. This was exactly what I needed to keep going hard through the end of this early-season 5k, where I had gone out too hard and was really in the pain cave! So, I ran him down. I followed him in the second-to-last turn, then pushed past into the last turn.

I recalled last year making the final turn and not realizing how close the finish line was, and being a little disappointed that I hadn't gone into "final approach" a little earlier. This year, I timed it just right. Except, I believe this year the finish line may have been even *higher* up State Street than the year before, because it seemed to take an eternity to get there! Because I had just passed green-shirt-guy, I had to keep going hard so he didn't pass me back. The fans were pretty quiet - maybe because it was pretty chilly. There weren't really any other runners around, and the vacant street might have felt a little strange - now that I think back on it - if I weren't completely focused on the finish banner. I started to try to capture my "come to the present moment and be one with the pain in your legs" idea, which lasted for about five seconds, before I heard some fans shouting "he's right behind you!" Uh, right - racing! I'm used to having a fun time and going after my PR's, but this saying was brand new to me - but pretty exciting. I pushed a bit more, and then at the very last second, who did I see but the Fleet Feet guy coming around me! And instantly, I thought, this guy deserves to finish in front of me, for having helped me not give up when I thought I was going the wrong way, and putting up with my chatting with him for a minute back at mile 1. I don't think I had any more speed available to the line, but if I did, the line was still his. Yeah, it was good. In the chute, I looked around and didn't see anyone... I knew we had run well but really didn't think we had just won. Were we the first? Impossible. Well, if we were, it was irrelevant, because the race was chip-timed and there were, as promised, a few sub-6 guys somewhere in the pack.

I grabbed a couple waters, caught up with Grant who had just finished as well, and headed on back down to the final turn to cheer in my friends and teammates for 40 minutes or so until the post-race chills set in and told me to head on back inside. Once I got home and checked the results, I saw that I had managed to break my PR - by a whopping 5 seconds. 1 per k, I guess. Fun day. Good race. Go Team. Yay hills!

Clarity

2011-03-11T09:40:00.000-06:00

I'm not trying to boast about my eye surgery, but still feel so grateful for what it's done for me. I think about it all the time, because seeing is something I do constantly! When something is tough in life, it's easy to put a lot of effort into thinking about it, but it can be a lot harder to focus in on being grateful for the things that are going well. "Wow, I hardly felt my liver today, and I think it's doing great!" :)

Numerically, my vision is a little bit better since the surgery than it was with contacts, but there's something about it that is much better. Sure, not dealing with contacts - in the morning, in the evening, in the pool - is nice, but it's the clarity itself that has been really nice. I might see about the same or a little better, but I think about the clarity much more. Timing might have been perfect to get my eyes fixed during a time in my life where I deliberately tried to spend more time looking around, and smelling the roses. I like to just look at things - so many of them! At night, even though there is a bit of a "starburst" effect around lights for now, that just gives them a bit of a new dimension, in a visual landscape of brilliant objects sharply defined. Having better vision has been the perfect complement for taking the time to use it.

As a nice side effect, I have had much better success lately in those situations where something gets bumped or dropped, and instinctively I reach out to try to catch it. In the past, I usually missed, then went on to clean up the mess. Since the surgery, though, I have surprised myself with several impressive catches. Better resolve or better vision - who knows? At any rate, I'll take it.

With spring time approaching, there's a lot to take in. So many things to sense - it seems that spring is rich for all the senses, because the re-emergence of life brings such variability, such a rich difference from wintertime. I ran through the arboretum last night with two new friends, around Lake Wingra, as the sun set in a clear sky and gave way to the brightest starts. The snowy ground stretched for miles, punctuated by not obscured by leafless trees. Spring bird sounds filled the mild air, otherwise calm and quiet but for the footfalls and conversations of friends sharing the evening. As we finished, we looked across the frozen lake in the twilight, taking in the spectacle of the entire 6.5-mile route we had just completed and feeling impressed to travel such a distance by foot. Thanks, JN and RJ.

I'm looking forward to seeing everything that it brings, this year in a newer way than ever before.

Yoga Testimonial

2011-03-04T15:53:00.000-06:00

After several years of yoga, one night recently I wrote to the owner with some thoughts about what Yoga means to me. I was delighted that my letter was published on the studio's website - here's a link and the text:

http://innerfireyogacenter.com/testimonials

Thanks – as always – for class last night. I came in with a bunch of anxiety and left as a sort of peaceful jell-o. Your encouragement and compassion are important to so many people.

There’s a saying in marathon running: “God gave us legs to run 20 miles, then gave us a 26.2-mile race!” It’s an incredible truth: I’ve run five marathons now, and the same phenomenon has happened every time. After about 20 miles, the legs are spent and everything is hurting, and for me all time stands still. What happens next is either immense presence, or infinity – which I’ve come to understand are one in the same – and a fantastic opportunity to transcend time and bodily pain in favor of an inward journey. Just as you said last night, it all comes down to deciding to stick with it: for 60 seconds or for 60 minutes – just one instant into another. I’ve evolved emotionally over the past few years as I’ve become a runner. This past October I ran the Athens Marathon – the 2,500th anniversary of the ‘original’ marathon – and found that I was able to focus in to an incredible, timeless place, where time and pain seemed to vanish and the present moments became evident. I went on that pilgrimage thinking that perhaps I would be able to somehow connect to that first run so long ago, and discovered that it wasn’t about something in the past – but something entirely relevant to the exact present. (Here’s a link to my race report)

I give credit to my practice at Inner Fire Yoga for being the single most critical and essential part of all my training for running, triathlon – even the Ironman. I couldn’t have done it without Inner Fire Yoga. I’ve signed up for my second Ironman – here in Madison this fall! What I think will be the most important part of my training – just as we develop in class – will be to set aside preconceptions, inflated egos, and past experiences to approach the race with a joyful and open beginner’s mind. Thanks so much for giving me a place to build the foundations for an entirely new and improved life.”

Training plans I do not believe in

2011-03-02T07:30:00.000-06:00

A teammate loaned me a copy of a triathlon-related documentary DVD. I'll leave it at that because while I'm grateful to the friend for loaning me the disc, and I appreciate the efforts of the filmmakers and the people it documents, I'm not inspired. I've been watching while spinning in the basement, as the sun slowly makes longer and longer arcs across the winter sky.

The only way the film is inspiring me is in a certain kind of solidarity to myself, rather than inspired by the things they're doing in the film. Or perhaps motivated by seeing images from the races that get me feeling good about being there myself this season. The film chronicles the training season of several first-time Ironman athletes, and while I appreciate their efforts, some of their opinions represent my own pet peeves.

One was noting how hard the schedule was: "with Ironman, it's hard because you have to do long rides on Saturdays". Actually, you can shift your schedule around to do a long ride any day! In most cases, it's simply "weekly." You can build a 10-day schedule so long rides fall on varying days, even. Once, I got up super early and did an 80-mile ride before going to work a half day on a summer Friday. Who says a half day has to be the first half? (Well, sometimes the boss does, yes.) Training schedules work best when they are designed around the rest of your life. The part you are trying to enhance by doing Ironman, not the the other way around.
One athlete is a student, and talks about bailing out of class to go bike. I can relate to this - especially when the weather's extra nice and the scheduled ride is longer. But it's a tough call - what's more important each day? It can be hard to know.
These guys are going crazy with their training volumes, and worrying about it, first thing in the season. When I start the season, I like to ease into things to avoid injury, and let the volume fluctuate a bit to allow my body to recover when it needs it.
The interviewer asks the athletes about gear, and the cost of gear. They confidently start in with "you need..." and list all nature of gizmos and equipment. Really, the "need" category can be a lot more limited than some people think. Sure, even the basics can be pretty expensive in the sport, but you can enjoy a lot of success without a Garmin, heart rate monitor, compression stuff, even aero wheels. "Need" for gear can be closely linked to "values" in racing. There's no substitute for the engine.
At a mid-season race, one woman brings her young daughters, who sport shirts reading "my mommy is faster than your mommy." Cute, but I prefer the ones that say things like "go mommy go" or "future triathlete". Putting down is not a triathlon value. The kids didn't even seem to be too excited about any of it. I'm saddened, too, that the "mommy" in this case is not even particularly "fast", but is completely focused on all her times, to the extent that if she does not make a certain time goal in her first Ironman, she will be disappointed. The interviews with her husband seem to indicate a good deal of stress within the household. I wonder if she's missing the part about the sport being for fun? On the other hand, I recognize the overwhelming sense of need for achievement that pursuing this goal can evoke.

Perhaps this is just another illustration of how deeply personal the Ironman journey is. Everyone goes after something different, and takes away something different. For me, my training plan sticks with staying healthy and having fun. The hard work will fit right in when those come first.

My little sphere

2011-02-27T14:40:00.000-06:00

I've debated whether I should venture into the political sphere with some insights into all the activity at the Wisconsin State capitol. I think I've been up close with the good and the bad of both sides. To tell you the truth, I just don't want to write about it. Meanwhile, with all the action downtown, it's pretty safe for me to post here about some other thoughts with the assurance that nobody's paying attention to my corner of the blogosphere right now anyway.

So how do I put structure behind my days when the days are shaky? When conditions at work (at the State DOT) are noticeably tense and an income change greater than a complete bike are possible? Well, with paying attention to my own goals, and the little sphere where I live my life - and deciding what I want to take on each day and perhaps how I want to judge its success. In the micro-ecosystem training, a lot of that can be reasonably easy to grasp.

Yesterday I lead my Team In Training group through an 8-mile run, over some icy roads and through some still-teens-temperatures, but with good success and a lot of smiles. Our honored hero, Lucas, graced us with his presence before our run - and with presents before our run, too: bracelets that he made for everyone on the team. Lucas is 5, and behind his cheerful kid facade is a courageous cancer survivor. You never know what someone might be living with or going through. I think the team was glad to meet him and put a face to what might only be a concept for some of them. I had just spent an hour talking to the team about fundamental biomechanics and running form, but was far more pleased with - and think the team will be more likely to remember - Lucas' visit.

Today the TNT winter team completed the Disney Princess half marathon! After training through the snow and ice, the sub-zero temperatures, and the long miles, these ladies finally got to celebrate all their hard work in a magical place - in shorts to boot. Congratulations, Ladies (and Mike) on sticking with it through the season, raising thousands of dollars toward our mission, and completing your big event. I'm proud of you. I'l give a particular shout-out to Meghan, a friend and super-motivated person who I met this season and who completed her race this morning. Last night, she presented a speech to all the Team In Training as our honored hero, who has just celebrated her 20th year of being cancer-free. Here's Meghan (on the left) with fellow-blogger and TNT mentor Kerri, after completing a run across Lake Wingra.

Today I had a spin at home, tomorrow I'll do some yoga, maybe go to the gym. Tuesday I'll go for a run with my running group - each of these days there will be all kinds of challenges, but I know there will be at least one challenge in each of them that I can size up, go after, and likely overcome. They might not be particularly hard, but they're not nothing. Other things will come up in life that will challenge me, but at least I'll have these specific ones that I can predict. Fortunately, I can predict a good outcome from them, too. I know that what I put in will be pretty well related to what I get out. I know that I'll get real results and some good feelings out of them, too. Unlike some of the other things I'll do this week, I know I have only myself to answer to during these times. Need for control? Order? Perhaps a bit - but that's OK. Training can be tough, but in a lot of ways, it sure is calming and refreshing.

Valentine's Day 5k

2011-02-12T16:12:00.007-06:00

The sun rose over Madison this morning, again a little earlier than yesterday, as temperatures clicked up and up from the sub-zero mid-week pain to a comparatively balmy 34 degrees today. When I stepped outside to check on the chickens, things felt brighter, milder, and even more excited with birds chirping. Spring - eventually - will come around again; its first harbingers are arriving. One of my favorites is the summer Team In Training team beginning their journey! Last weekend, we kicked things off with a shoe clinic at Endurance House, followed by our first Team run. This season sports an outstanding mix of experienced and beginning runners and walkers, with a tangible passion for the challenges ahead. Always an exciting time, a time when I envision the successes ahead. It's going to be one heck of a season!

Here we are as we set out for our first team run of the year!

A lot of local races fit perfectly into our training schedules - for the Green Bay and San Deigo half and full marathons. Right out of the gate, the Valentine's Day 5k was this morning, just downtown and run by my own first TNT coach Ronnie. A few hundred people were there, some of them sporting some seriously pink and red outfits! I was glad to have the opportunity to spend 5,000 meters with a new friend, and was happy to see a few friends that winter had kept separated for a few months. Kudos to Art and Rich from the Tahoe cycle team for coming out to run, even after their 6:00am spin class! Special cheers to Roz, my teammate at the Mardi Gras marathon last February, who is visiting from England for 10 days, but who didn't want to pass up the opportunity to come out to the races. What else says Madison like running in the snow?!

The above-freezing temperature was a welcome break from the uber-cold days we've had, and was really quite mild for running. I'm looking forward to the week ahead - as more roads and sidewalks clear off and the sting disappears from the air. I'll get to know more of the new team and tweak training plans for a whole new set of individual goals. Some of the reasons why participants join will become apparent and will motivate all of us. Some other reasons will be kept inside and they're equally motivating - because isn't it one of the lessons that this teaches us: that you never know what struggles people might be going through, and shouldn't they deserve kindness whether or not those struggles are apparent?

Way to go, Team! Alumni and newbies - all supporting the same cause

Short Skirt - Long Wetsuit

2011-02-06T10:38:00.001-06:00

At long last, I completed my music video tribute to my Team In Training teammates from last fall's Chicago Triathlon! Enjoy...

This concept came into my head as I was driving to Chicago for the Triathlon in the fall. Fortunately for my creative pursuit, the ladies were willing to go along with my goofy ideas - so I'm excited to finally roll out what I came up with. Thank goodness for snowy weekends, with some time to reflect.
Needless to say, we had a great time! Go Team!

Welcoming a new member to the family

2011-02-04T08:38:00.000-06:00

Welcoming a new member to the family!

Welcome new Felt Z5! Born at Machinery Row Bicycles, weighing in at 18.2 lb and 991 cm long. A machine that I believe will suit all my needs, and more. It's a great time of year to buy a bike - because bicycling outside feels so far away right now. Short-distance purpose-driven commutes, perhaps, but not casual road cruising in the countryside! This time of year the car is hard to get into.

The title of this post might as well be "Resolutions 3: Gearing up" - part of planning a season is budgeting for the season and working out what gear I'll need... and what gear I'll want. Apart from the exorbitant entry fee for Ironman Wisconsin, I don't feel a tremendous need for a lot of "stuff" this year; as I enter my fourth season, I have many of the capital expenditures made, and can rely on my own shelves for a solid assortment of tools and equipment. I have grown committed enough to Team In Training that I need only one uniform. I've also learned an important part of getting faster: simplify. Less stuff to worry about and carry around means more time focusing on training and racing! So rather than buying everything that I see (and am indeed intrigued by), I try to focus on getting the right things and keeping them in great working order.

This is a good time of year to buy a bike because it's a reminder, a promise to myself that I have a new season ahead. It's time to get into base training so that I'll be ready to build on it when we head outside. It's time to get on that trainer in the basement with a bit more regularity so my muscles and tendons and joints are accustomed to that sweet spinning motion when I ask them to do it every other day or more. (Thanks, Laura, for being a great spinning buddy, and for the good information about tendons and joints!) It's a vote of confidence to myself that even though I've put on a little weight and feel a bit sluggish this time of year, that's natural, and in a couple months it will all work out.

It was also the right time for a new bike because it's the end of an era. It's great news that my friend Chris is moving from Wisconsin to Florida, but I will certainly miss him. Chris has been a manager and mechanic at Machinery Row for years, and has been my go-to guy for all things bike-related. He got me into my QRoo, my first tri bike. He did all my repairs; he taught bike clinics to the Team In Training groups. This photo is from our ski trip to Telluride last March, where he took to the mountain with ease without ever having practiced the sport before. His new location is new JP's parents' home, so it's likely that we'll get a chance to visit - it's not like I'm writing a eulogy, it's just that my Madison bicycling experience won't be the same. So I thought the least I could do would be to walk into the shop, ask him for his recommendation for a new bike, and buy it. Done. I might have been the only customer in the shop that snowy morning, which made for a lot of space to ride down the bike-lined aisles, but only a moment was all I needed to know that the Z5 felt great. Partially because it's the right size for me: for the past four years, I've ridden a LeMond I got from a coworker back in 2006 before this whole thing began, a little oversized but the right price when I found it. So specifically, I've bought my first new road bike! At last.

It's keeping warm on the trainer for now, but looking forward to the season ahead. Better handling means more comfort and safety while making friends and enjoying the great outdoors!

LASIK Part II - To Infinity and beyond

2011-01-29T10:02:00.000-06:00

About 30 minutes after I finished writing a page about what it’s like to see blurry, I arrived at TLC on the East side of Madison for my long-awaited procedure. All my apprehension was immediately wiped away when I saw the scene inside the glass door: it was game day. The center does procedures one or two days a week – the other days are important, but reasonably mundane in gathering data, printing charts, keeping books, and scheduling appointments. On procedure day, the atmosphere was palpably different: a large crowd of buzzing patients and calm partners in the waiting room, the entire staff ready for action in their extra-clean uniforms and shoe covers, carrying around charts with great determination and confidence. When I headed in for my final checks and conversations, more hands were on deck and they all seemed very supportive and excited.

At last I had the opportunity to meet the Doctor in charge, Dr. Probst, one of the most experienced and well-respected LASIK doctors, who has not only performed thousands of procedures and written several books about the practice, but who is also a fan of triathlon with some kind words about Team In Training to boot. After explaining that my procedure would be essentially a piece of cake because of my mild prescription, he recounted a story of one particularly hard-core triathlete patient who remained extremely hyper even after several doses of sedative. I guess that's the insupressible multisport energy level. We confirmed – as if he wasn’t aware – several benefits of training and racing without the burdens of corrective lenses, and then parted ways for a while so he could do some more laser operation and I could ingest some stuff aimed at chilling me out.

Down at the end of the unassuming hallway in the TLC office, on the first floor of a typical office-park building, sits what I’ve dubbed the LASIK “spa” adjacent to the laser room. It’s dimly lit and calmed with relaxing music – a place where patients kick back in comfortable leather recliners while relaxing and getting their eyes cleaned off with iodine. I sensed that some of the other patients’ nerves were high, so I tried to lighten the atmosphere making silly remarks about pedicures and whatnot. For me, I was nothing short of ready, and at this point dying to check out the laser room. I was most pleased to hear the sounds coming from the operating room – if you’re going to use a laser for any purpose, in my opinion, it needs to make distinctive “laser” sounds to be most effective. Needless to say, I explained this satisfaction to the staff, but refrained from wasting the time it would have taken to also note how cool it would be to outfit the device with speakers so it could make additional light-sabre-style sounds.

Unfortunately, not only had my glasses already been taken to my post-op goodie bag so I couldn’t see, the doctors were focused on doing my procedure. As one might hope for them to do, but it didn’t leave any time for me to check out the cool equipment, only to lay down and take it in. It all happened so fast: a device slipping into my eye to hold it open, then another one. Nothing painful, just a little stretchy. I looked up at a blinking orange light – my “target” – then after a moment the journey began. A tiny peek into the inner workings of the brain and visual system that reminded me a bit of the end of “2001: A Space Odyssey.” Suddenly the blinking orange light was gone. I continued to look where it had been, but saw only a sort of bright gray space, devoid of definition but still multi-dimensional. Maybe a little bit like the snow on an old TV set, but grayer and milder. I could perceive things changing that might have had to do with my vision, but I couldn’t “see” them, per se – dots moving, and what felt like the construction of a matrix like a bee’s eye up close somewhere off in my periphery. I focused on staying very, very still, though as the doctors encouraged me and counted down the seconds-to-go, I wanted to say “this is awesome!” or “I’m having fun!” I figured silence and stillness were the best as a laser sliced my eye open. In the second part of the procedure, I felt myself rotate and end up under another laser: this one was the real deal. A highly-specialized-sounding fan was enabled, then the laser began making loud stocatto popping sounds, not unlike those I had heard in the body shop of Dad’s GM plant as the robots welded car doors together. The smell it emitted was not my favorite, but did offer more proof – in case you needed it – that something serious was happening. I believe this is the part when the shape of my eye was being changed. Moments later, the orange blinking light was back albeit moving all around as my eye was re-assembled, then it steadied as a brush gently painted my eyeball closed.

Whether or not I really was an outstanding patient, Dr. Probst and his assistants certainly did convincingly convey that I had been. I was pleased that everything seemed to go swimmingly. The mysteriously gray-time was my favorite for cosmic voyaging, and the noisy cracking-laser was my favorite part for extreme engineering.

I went home and slept for a few hours, and when I woke up, my vision was already improving. Following doctor’s orders, I’ve been wearing dark glasses, laying low, not exercising, taking a lot of eye drops, and limiting my time looking at the computer screen. Yes, this combination is driving me a little nuts – but by the next day I was cleared to drive and headed out to gently perform some errands and whatnot. Two days later, I’m still taking it easy, but seeing perfectly without any contacts or glasses. I noticed myself standing in the bathroom last night feeling like I was forgetting something, noticing that I didn’t have any contacts to take out. Maybe my next errand will be dropping off my glasses in a donation box, or circulating these TLC referral cards! (email me if you want to check it out and want to save money!)

Here’s to the season ahead without contacts!

LASIK, Part I - memories of blurry vision

2011-01-28T17:15:00.000-06:00

A bit of snow is falling outside, the drive across town took a lot longer than usual. When it’s snowing, extra commute time is not unpredictable – and I’m glad I was up a bit early so I could leave early, take my time, and sit down at Panera with the travel risk behind me. Here I sip a coffee, eat “a normal breakfast”, and give some consideration to what might be my last few hours of nearsightedness.

When I wear my hat, the sides of it push in on the sides of my glasses, and after a while, they start to hurt and I get a nagging headache in my temples. It’s nice to have two pair to switch when one gets annoying, but the second usually comes with some pressure, too. On a day like today, I always walk with my head straight down to try to use my head to block the snow from getting on my glasses and making spots. The snow, of course, is so much easier than rain, though: the snow might bounce off, but the rain is guaranteed to get things wet. Without a perfectly clean cloth at hand somewhere, the rain is guaranteed to dry into splotches on a glass lens, and stay there for the remainder of the day.

Grandma showed me the best way to clean glasses – she used to clean them in the morning before I went to school. After so many years of baking and washing and aging, her wrinkled hands didn’t seem to mind the piping hot water she rinsed them in – that’s the key. A gentle wash with soap, then a super-hot rinse that makes them easy to spot-free dry. She finished it off with a quick wipe dry with a certain white washcloth that she used exclusively for drying my glasses: that way she could be sure they wouldn’t get scratched.

I think I got those big round glasses in ninth grade, when I noticed it was harder for me to see the chalkboard, or came home with more-frequent-than-usual headaches. I remember being in Mr. McCracken’s French class, with green boards and white chalk. Chad had gotten glasses, and I recall trying his out one time and noticing a marked difference. Most of the time in class, of course, I was focusing on what funny things Monsieur McCracken might say – or dance – next, or on a certain girl in the back row. There must have been a tipping point where mom took me to get my eyes checked, and I won the prize of getting glasses. Dr. Bruner took care of my eyes back then – his daughter Amanda was in my class (and absolutely lovely to this day, I must add.) To this day, I have a much higher confidence and relaxation during visits with doctors I know. And I remember really wanting to get glasses back then – I think the accessory would make me feel special, make me stand apart.

So my point – before it’s too late: what’s it like to have blurry vision? I understand that mine isn’t as bad at a lot of people’s. It’s interesting to be able to look over the lenses and go from clear to blurry. Things seem to lose their clarity of three-dimensions: it’s not that things are fuzzy just side to side, but back and forth, too. As if they’re moving a little bit, or that they take up more space than they actually do. The edge of something appears to be in two places – one fuzzy line, then one shadowy version of the same offset a little bit, perhaps even in a couple places. When I squint I can make those unclear dimensions move around or converge a bit, and sometimes come into better focus.

I'll digress for just a moment, because in thumbing through various photos of me looking dorky with glasses on, I came across this favorite one. Erika's no longer with us in person, but she'll always be a close friend to me. I'm sure some day I'll write a whole other chapter putting together blurry memories, or paying attention to the way things are before it's too late and they're gone.

I’m a lot better than others who say they can’t see anything at all. Across the parking lot, I can see the edges of a local building, and its colors. Knowing the context, I can make out the building materials with a pretty good guess, but I can seldom read the signs. On a hotel across the lot, I see dark squares that make up the windows, but wouldn’t know that the panels below them are air conditioners – not just part of the window. I can’t make out people. Their shapes and their movements, but little more. I can’t see whether someone is old or young; I can tell whether someone is huge, but not a distinction between thin or medium. It’s hard to tell the difference between a suit and a sweatsuit, but the colors are generally clear.

I’m not legally allowed to drive anymore without corrective lenses. The first time I took the test, I opted not to use my glasses, and was just barely able to score enough points to pass – and therefore didn’t have a restriction on my license. The second time – a couple years later and after my prescription had worsened – I tried the same strategy but with no avail. I read the row of figures they asked me to, and when I finished the DMV lady said “there are no numbers, Mr. Tyler.” Guilty as charged – restriction added. I bet I’d be able to make it home in a pinch without glasses, but with so many moving parts, it’s hard to put them together into a coherent picture of everything going on. It’s one thing to sit still and focus on making sense of my surroundings, but quite another to try to do so while moving, and operating a car, with all its dangers and risks. Against the snowy backdrop, it’s even harder to distinguish between what’s what – and all the more important to be able to see and plan farther ahead.

The moving blurry things make me feel uneasy, maybe a little panicky. I don’t feel grounded, sort of motion sick. I recall an aquathon last summer (a Swim + run race) during a time I was forbidden by Dr. Haferman to wear contacts because of an eye infection: I wore my glasses all day, but without owning prescription goggles, I was in a tough spot for the swim. I set my glasses on top of my shoes in the transition area, and dipped into the water before the race, just to see if I could make do. Naturally, the horizon was evident. Beyond that, there wasn’t much: the huge orange buoy signifying the turn was somewhat evident, but not really at a glance. The dark end of picnic point peninsula was a better general landmark – and I figured I would just swim near the back of the pack, and go where everyone else was going. I headed that way for a couple of strokes, and it seemed good enough, so I relaxed until the race started. It wasn’t but a minute after the gun, though, that I felt it wash over me… uh oh… hot, overwhelmed, stifled, lost… heart rate skyrocketing, nausea. Even though I was going the same place with the same movements as I had done dozens of time before, my brain sent me a panic alert when I tried to do it with one of my senses handicapped. I ended up making it through that swim, but at the very back of the pack. Chalk it up for the experience of not being able to see. The uneasiness can be similarly frustrating in the night, when things are more mysterious anyway. The shadows and the darkness are harder to understand, and if I’m anxious, they can seem to move.

I’ve tried doing yoga without my glasses on – I figure it would be an excellent exercise for me, in patience and connection with a different set of senses. To spend an hour without seeing myself or others, but looking inward. But with my glasses within reach, it’s too hard not to just reach for them – even though they get wet with sweat drops and slip dorkily down my nose. I feel unbalanced and uneasy looking into the blur – probably because I’m so accustomed to relying on my vision and haven’t been able to muster the mental strength to let myself go without it. I laughed with the owner once about just giving her my glasses at the beginning of class and asking her not to give them back to me until I was finished – but didn’t bring myself to actually do it. If my vision becomes constantly clear after this procedure, I suspect I will be a bit resentful that I didn’t accomplish the challenge when I had the opportunity.

I can’t even see my computer screen very well, it’s slow going to read 12-point at 125%. A little bit doable, but not much. There’s one sweet spot about one foot in front of my face where I can see “just right”, but the lenses help everything otherwise.

Contacts are a world nicer than glasses, because they go so easily with me where I want to go. However, they have to come in and out every day, in a process involving my fingers touching my eye. Lake water can live under them, between the lens and my eye, and propagate infection. At times when really clean water isn’t available – say, camping – millions of microscopic bugs and tiny chunks are ready to take up their residence on the surface of my eye. In anything active, there’s always the chance that a blast of wind or water could bump a lens right out of my eye – then what? I had extra lenses in my car, my bags, my transitions, my saddle bag, my office, all over the place! Every trip I took, I evaluated how many extras I’d take to manage my risk to my satisfaction. Most of the time they were a piece of cake, but they required constant maintenance.

Life situations and health care situations change all the time. Flexible Spending makes this kind of thing payable with pre-tax-saved dollars this year. I’m working steadily. I’m playing just as steadily. It’s time.

Next up: Dano's impressions from surgery, complete with cosmic voyages and lasers!

Join our Team!

2011-01-26T17:58:00.000-06:00

I've been writing about the off-season. About running in the winter. About resolutions as I take on the year ahead.

Right now - this week and next - is one of the most fun times of the year for me. Recruiting and kicking off a new Team In Training season! This is the time when old friends from seasons past meet up with new friends who have, for some reason or another, decided to come out and see what Team In Training is all about. I love it - I see miles and miles of potential in a marathon sign-up who has never run before. I feel compassion for in an athlete looking for some kind of inexplicable reconciliation in connecting a cause close to her own life with a pursuit of endurance. Admittedly, sometimes I pick favorites out of this bunch and think "oh man, it will be so good to watch this person cross the finish line." And there are surprises, too - someone who's so quiet or seemingly stand-offish about it all, but who perseveres, for reasons that might come out later. Further evidence that hopes and best wishes for people are great; judgments not so much.

Call it a shameless plug, call it what you will - but I'd be remiss if I didn't dedicate a post to inviting you to join us. Come to our kickoff meeting next Tuesday 2/1, or our first training on 2/5. Visit teamintraining.org/wi for more details about the program, without having to commit to it. If you read from some place other than my home in Wisconsin, TNT is nationwide! These electronic days, we even have virtual programs. There’s no shame in doing something that is meaningful for yourself and others at the same time.

Is there something intriguing to you about all this? A challenge you want to take on? A new year's resolution you know you will be more likely to achieve with the support of a team and the structure of a plan? Have you considered how many triathlon finishers must have thought at some point “oh, I could never do a triathlon.” Putting a mission behind a goal is a great way to make it easier to stay on track. Raising money is a great way to connect in a new way with friends, colleagues, and strangers. I can't promise it will be life-changing for you, but time and time again, I hear it is.
I must give a shout-out to my friend Annika, as we enjoy a glass of wine together and talk about a combination of the year ahead and the accomplishments of the years past - we met when she came to TNT, bought her first bike, rode 100 mile around Lake Tahoe, and found that - I'm not kidding - it changed her forever.

The lineup is nice. The Green Bay marathon and half-marathon, and the San Diego marathon and half-marathon (both of these are good for walkers and runners!) The 100-mile "America's Most Beautiful Bike Ride" around Lake Tahoe. And the Elkhart Lake triathlon (sprint and olympic distances.)

So that's what I have for today, an open invitation. Amidst several thoughts and adventures that I'm into this month, the top message that I want to broadcast right now is that those adventures aren't as fun alone. I'm looking forward to the next step in my journey, from novice to marathoner to mentor to assistant coach, to coach. I have some stuff I can't wait to say! I can't wait to meet the group of people who will decide to entrust me with their season. Come join me!

Saturday 1/29 at 10:00am at Capitol Brewery, 7734 Terrace Ave, Middleton - information meeting!
Tuesday 2/1 at 6:00pm at Vitense Golfland, 5501 Schroeder Road, Madison - information meeting and season kickoff party!
Saturday 2/5 at 8:45am at Endurance House, 1701 Deming Way, Middleton. (Free, of course) shoe clinic with footstrike analysis, and our first team run!

GO TEAM!

Cheers! Dano

A "take a picture of the thermometer" kind of run

2011-01-22T13:53:00.000-06:00

At least a few times every winter here in Madison, group runs are scheduled on days that turn out to be some of the coldest of the year. To be fair, when the weather in indeed cold enough to be unhealthy, we have to call them off. Barely "warm" enough, though, and we proceed. Today's morning temperature was hovering around 8 degrees as the sun came up over what is really quite a lovely day. (Before I came to Wisconsin, the temperature might have been read with a qualifier of "fahrenheit" or "celcius" afterward - here the number is clarified with "above" or "below")! The air is clear and visibility is great; in the morning before the bustle gets started, things are quiet. Likely because people - and animals - are all inside their homes staying warm. It's mornings like this one when it's best to have a Team. Friends who you are looking forward to sharing stories with, and coaches who are expecting your attendance. A goal-race that's getting closer each day and a training plan that needs you to get out the door and put in the miles in time to be ready.

In my case, there's a whole other important layer - Team In Training is a charity team, too, that focuses on our mission of curing cancer through the money we raise. Because that mission is always connected to the running we do, we remind ourselves that what we are doing is bigger than just us. And in order to be ready for that big race-event weekend where we celebrate our fundraising accomplishments as one big national Team, we'd better stick to our training plans, we'd better put in the miles to ensure success. Someone who gets up in the morning - someone is doing it right now - to go to a chemo treatment is likely to have less fun, and needs us.

Besides, as I sometimes remind the Team, I'm not sure many people sign up for a marathon or half-marathon with TNT because they think it's going to be easy. I'm not sure people like me are called to write about the experiences because they are commonplace, simple, or drab. Sure, a lot of miles go by each season, but pretty much all of them are deliberate, enjoyable, and challenging in their own ways. We love endurance sports because their challenges give spice and perspective to our lives. The same holds true for running on an 8-degree morning. We're each a little prouder in the rest of our day for making it happen, and we have a little more energy to boot! We're closer as a Team for having accomplished it. We're a little bit closer to a cure for the money we raised in the course of it. And we have another great story of icy hair and the resilience of the human spirit... with pictures to prove it.

PS - summer teams are forming now for marathoning, half-marathoning, triathlon, and bicycling! Visit teamintraining .org/wi and Come to one of our free info meetings (with free food too) at:

Tuesday, January 25, 2011, 6:00pm - Coliseum Bar, 232 E. Olin Ave., Madison
Saturday, January 29, 2011, 10:00am - Capital Brewery, 7734 Terrace Ave, Middleton

Resolution, part 2: support team

2011-01-18T07:16:00.000-06:00

I'm working through the phases of a new season. Planning first, laying foundations, and gradually moving into production-mode. This is a good point to check in with my strengths and weaknesses; my injury-prone areas which should become my areas of focus. With snow still falling, this is a great time of year to do the kinds of indoor exercises that will set me up well for the year ahead.

I started with a visit to Dr. Dave - a fellow Leukemia Society board member and supporter, and all-around good guy. Dr. Dave opened his own chiropractic business on the east side of Madison (Integrated Sport and Spine), and spends plenty of time with an inquisitive patient like me to explain the roots of certain imbalances or needs. Give him a try! This month he's offering free sports performance physicals, so I took the opportunity to get an important benchmark evaluation of my own range of motion, to help determine ways that I can train to increase performance and reduce risk of injury. This is my shout-out to Dr. Dave, who has been an instrumental part of my own support team for the past couple of years. Several of my teammates will also be glad to rave about his work.

It's important to get feedback from the outside observers - preferably trustworthy, friendly ones! After my most recent visit with Dr. Dave, I have a handful of new guidelines for putting together a fresh set of exercises for the late-winter, so I'll have a good base ready when spring comes and I bolt out the door. Phase one for me was deciding that it was time. Phase two is information-gathering - determining where I am now, determining what I'm going to need to do, and rounding up all the dates and times of all the races that I might like to do. One of the next steps will be prioritizing all those and seeing how they all will fit together. Soon you'll see my 2011 race list along the side of this page!

Be it noted, gentle reader, that a top priority for me will be Coaching the Team In Training summer marathon teams! Green Bay and San Diego, each with a full and half-marathon, will be our destinations (along with Lake Tahoe for cycling and Elkhart Lake for tri-ing). Information meetings start tonight - so if you've been curious, this is your time to come out and see. Visit teamintraining.org/wi for the dates and times.

And, of course, I'm keeping it real through the winter with our Team In Training squad, moving through the longer miles and the deeper snow toward the Disney Princess half-marathon at the end of February. Friend, mentor, and fellow blogger Kerri put together a nice report from our weekend run-and-brunch outing (read it on her blog here.)

Phase Change

2011-01-05T19:53:00.000-06:00

I love the seasons. I love the wax and wane, the cold and hot, the light and dark, the ups and downs. When you grow up with seasons, you know that it's OK for life to have highs and lows.

Easter hits home even more deeply as the crocuses push their way through the snow... eventually

As an engineer, poet (dare I say), and resident of the planet who tries to keep his eyes wide open to the countless phenomena of everyday life, every year I find myself absolutely stunned with the lakes. Today I skated on Lake Wingra, near my house. The very same place where I practice my swimming in the summer! It's so extremely different. People who live in Madison seem to love the summer, and really embrace it - because we know it's short. To hit the point home, nature doesn't just make summer warm and winter cold, it turns the lake into a completely different substance for half the year! I'm embracing it for all its forms - and let me tell you, skating across is way faster than swimming.

Being in the middle of a lake is an unusual experience, whether it's in the water or on top of it. There are few places so flat, so void... and as such, so calm and personal. Since it's generally not a place designed to sustain (my) life, it's always temporary. The middle of the lake is a great escape from everything else. Partially because it takes some doing to get there, so you can be confident that most of your troubles will not have the energy to follow you! Partially because it tends to be removed from the noise and speed that comes with the otherwise close proximity of so many things.

If you ask me, phase changes to a lesser degree are an essential part of personal fitness. A good wintertime does the body good, as a chance to recuperate and give contrast to starting again fresh, even if it does yield some freezing over of its own. Some parts will be reluctant to thaw come springtime, but the seasons are reliable - as such, the seasons will tell you when it's time to sprout your chute that will later become your flower. There's no need to start before the time is right. I'm just now feeling the rumbling inside my proverbial bulb, and starting to stir again. If I hadn't taken the time off, I wouldn't be enthusiastic about starting up again. And with several months of winter still remaining, what better way to get some exercise - and strengthen some lesser-used muscles - than heading out into the middle of the lake. One way or another.

Resolutions, part 1

2011-01-03T07:39:00.000-06:00

Happy New Year, friends and blogosphere!

For all the creative opportunities waiting within them, "blank pages" are not my favorite. I like to fill them in. I usually start with some kind of brain storm or list, then as things begin to pile up, I move and categorize them until what I need to do or want to say becomes evident. What if I hung a big blank piece of paper over the door, as a reminder of each day's creative possibilities and as I went out into the world in this new year?

Monday, January 3rd. Yesterday when the taxi dropped me off at home, I set down my bags and thought "well, here's the first day of the rest of my life!" I'm back home after warm, restful, joyful visits with my families in Florida and Texas. We opened presents over and over again, we played outside... when it felt too cold for the southerners we played inside. Some of the family stayed up late and slept in, some of the family was up well before dawn - and it's all good with me. Maybe soon I'll have some photos to share, or some talk about what I got for Christmas, and how I intend to use it for good.

It was a blessing in disguise to have limited internet connectivity - it seemed to remove a lot of urgency or anxiety from my days. I felt more able to kick back, sit still, chat, stroll around. At a couple points, it inspired me to do some writing - although for the same reasons, I didn't feel like dismissing myself from a perfectly good situation to go write about it. This could be the writer's classic paradox: trying to observe a situation while living it, paying enough attention that when the time is finally right to leave the situation and write about it, there's still something relevant available to say. At one point I noticed that my conversation about family history with my grandmother was likely to go on for a long time, overflowing with lovely details about her youth, so I placed the computer in my lap and typed along, trying to catch as much as I could. If I could carry the same computer around as I swam, biked, and ran, I'd probably have all sorts of great material posted on this blog! In spite of their nerdiness, I've considered devices like voice-recording pens...

I knew that after I finished the Athens marathon, capping off the 2010 season, I would need physical and emotional time off. So as the season wound down, I didn't worry about picking up my training manuals or writing down calendars or making plans for 2011... yet. I knew they'd come. In the mean time, it was more like a blank piece of paper over the door, promising undisclosed "good things" to come in the unspecified "future." It worked, too - because as we move into the new year, I find myself peppering that blank slate with new ideas, fun projects, challenging goals. As I lounged and relaxed eating dozens of cookies and chocolates over Christmas break, I started to get gently antsy to feel healthier and faster again. Time off works on its own: first, the freedom lends itself to the recovery I need, then the absence of something I do really love presents itself and becomes the desire. Out of the stillness come the best resolutions.

They'll include doing the Ironman again, finishing my book, becoming a TNT coach, making improvements to my house, making friends. Perhaps some traveling, probably some new health initiatives, probably some new ways to be involved with the community. I'll set aside time to think about them and prioritize them, and find a good way to put them on the wall or my calendar in a way that I can be reminded of them on the days when I don't feel a January 3rd kind of motivation. Instead of a blank page over the door, I'll have one with specifics - the reminders that I need for making real improvements.

Day one, morning: "get back to regular blogging". Check. "Always proofread before hitting 'publish'" Check.

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-18T16:42:00.000-06:00

Yes, it's the off-season, and I have been running only when it means that I hang out with my friends, and doing (very few) other activities to help make room for the cookies, besides yoga to stay warm. But, though my blog has been slow this time of year, it's not for want of creative efforts. I am pleased to present to you .... my Christmas Card / Year In Review!

Smile, it's Yoga time!

2010-12-06T21:49:00.000-06:00

Seems that a month has flown past since my return from Athens. If the words on a blog's page are supposed to describe some of my thoughts and feelings, then I suppose their absence over this period has been telling. My 2010 racing season ended - with what I consider great overall success, and a grande finale. And then - silence. Mental silence. Strolling down the street in the snow, watching for lovely light or smelling for Christmas trees. Shopping not because I have to, but because it's interesting and fun. Making a point to reconnect with friends. It's winter time, and I deserve it. The days are short but there's nothing left to do in the yard, and plenty to do inside.

I find myself still working out, not because I must, but because I like it. I don't like the feeling of lethargy or largeness, though there is some forgiveness in the winter of a small insulating layer, I suppose! I do short runs when they mean being with my friends, I spin when it means I can watch fun movies, I swim when I feel like slipping through warm water from which I can see snow outside the window. I even raced a couple times - like the Berbee Derby 10k on Thanksgiving morning, which has become a tradition for my family and the Team, to help make some room for turkey. I also did an indoor triathlon last Friday: a 10-minute pool swim, a 20-minute stationary bike ride, and a 10-minute treadmill run. Not to race or post great times, but to have a fun time playing with my friends during a great excuse to drip sweat on the first day of snow in Madison.

And I do yoga. As my mind rests for a couple months from the obligations of a well-thought-out training plan, it's been telling me one thing consistently: do yoga. Lately, it suggests this constantly, perhaps because my new job is just two blocks away from the studio. (Did I tell you, I got promoted to the DOT headquarters, which means a better job - that I can walk to from my house!!) The classes at Inner Fire Yoga are in warm or hot rooms, a very welcome and very deeply warming immersion as the nights drop into single digits outside. Tonight I went to my old favorite class, Hot Yoga (in the Bikram style if you're familiar) where the room is hot, and the poses are deliberate and challenging, each asking part of the body to stretch while another part relaxes. Other times I enjoy Flow Yoga, a more fluid and moving practice in a warm room, often accompanied by music and a more "loose" atmosphere.

I get energy from the group - although people come for different reasons and look different and have different "abilities", yoga is a place for intentions, whatever they might be. No need for judgments. It's entirely individual, but being with the instructors and the group of other yogis adds support and accountability, not to boast but to encourage. For me, the yoga is not too unlike triathlon: a place to find presence, which flings open doors to joy. In fact, my regular yoga practice has been a critical, fundamental cornerstone to everything else athletic I've done: the yoga has given me strength, balance, and range of motion, and has also given me a regular place to explore my own patience, confidence, and presence. Yoga has taught me the mental skills to deal with bad weather, motion sickness, panicky feelings, unforeseen obstacles, and cramping. When my left hamstring suddenly cramped and brought me to an excruciating stop in the middle of the Chicago Triathlon, I had skills in my mental arsenal to make it stop.

And like at the races, sometimes I wonder: why do there seem to be people around me looking miserable in their efforts? If it's not fun, why pursue a hobby or sport? An hour into a 90-minute yoga class in a 100-degree room is often the perfect time to feel miserable. But the mental practice begs: right now, what can I do to lighten up? To continue to work as I fatigue? Why should I be unhappy? For so many reasons, I find myself smiling through yoga classes. Usually right from the beginning, then trying to call it back over and over as the session intensifies. Although the effort is hard, I look for the parts of myself that are stretching, realigning, detoxifying, replenishing - and I find them. And as I look inward, the need to worry about anything else in life fades away, because in fact there's nothing to do about any of it in those moments. As I seek this phenomenon, often known as "presence", I can't help but feel: this is great! I feel great! My situation here in this place is wonderful! It's only natural to smile.

Race Report: Athens Marathon

2010-11-09T23:04:00.027-06:00

I went to Athens on a pilgrimage. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to commemorate probably the only 2,500th anniversary of anything that I will ever live to see. In 490 BC, the underdog Athenians won a critical battle against the attacking Persians at the Battle of Marathon. As legend has it, a soldier-messenger named Pheippides ran back home from Marathon to Athens, about 25 miles away, to proclaim the good news "we have won" ... and dropped dead. Certainly the stigma of the modern marathon was born of this heroic run and perfectly scripted collapse. (Note to any ultra-marathoners reading, if the 25-miler wasn't enough, Pheippides had allegedly run back and forth from Athens to Sparta several other times already!) Around the time I was finishing the Mardi Gras marathon this February and considering what the heck I could possibly do next after such a high, I noticed that the race tracing that original route - and used in the first modern Olympic games in 1896 - was preparing to open for registrations. So what if it was in Greece? This wasn't something to miss - so I registered. As best I could tell, anyway, what with the website being only somewhat in English.

I went to Athens having finished four marathons (including one at the end of the Ironman) and having a tremendous respect for this distance, and the incredible emotions that it evokes. Part of what continues to draw me to this magical distance is the strange and surreal high that comes about with the decision to persevere through intense fatigue and impossible doubt. I have made a lot of progress this fall on my book, considering what we learn about ourselves and our lives through the races, considering how I have grown through my experience of becoming an "athlete." I set out on this transatlantic journey to a place so rich with history - the birthplace of democracy, for crying out loud! - that I figured there simply would be no way around being overwhelmed with some kind of transcendent connection with the history of the place. I thought that during the run, I would empathize with Pheippides, or somehow be transported to his historical setting and experience.

But it wasn't quite like that. What I found wasn't myself living in the legend of 490 B.C., it was something more relevant - something even more timeless.

I had not been in the Newark airport for an hour when I spotted the first purple bracelet and struck up a conversation with a fellow Team in Training alum on her way to the race. It didn't take more than a couple minutes for the conversations on the plane to begin as passengers took their seats - to realize that they were practically all going to Athens for the race. The plane was alive with the buzz of race stories and all the anticipation of Athens. Around the city of Athens, the streets were alive with a special group of tourists, sporting Boston jackets and Ironman caps and race shirts in all kinds of languages. At lunch Saturday we spotted a group of Chinese runners, looking particularly professional with their warm-up clothes, but as soon as we took out our camera to take a picture of them, they motioned to us and insisted that we all take photos together. Athens, I believe, is as close as I will ever feel to being in the olympics.

We took a bus tour of the course from the Expo Saturday, and arrived at the stadium in Marathon just as a ceremony was wrapping up, with young men and women sharply dressed in their country's military best, meeting each other before competing in an international championship as part of Sunday's marathon. To the side of the stadium, the Olympic flame was burning, and as we stood next to it to take photos, a young man asked if we could take his photo with the flame. Of course we did; he asked us where we were from, seemed to be thrilled to be talking to Americans, then told us with a huge smile he was from Germany and eager to run in tomorrow's championship. I couldn't help but think in the quiet of the bus trip back that barely two generations ago, he and I might have tried to kill each other on a battlefield, but this weekend we had the privilege of sharing a starting and finish line, each doing battle with none other than himself, with each other's support rather than fear and hatred.

On race morning, I was delighted, but to be honest not surprised, to come across probably 20 purple shirts. Individuals like me - alumni sporting our colors in dedication to the Team - and groups as well, like "Grease Lightning" from Texas, raising money and training together for this big race. As a charity runner, I often hear various thanks along the way, but to hear them standing here, in Marathon, made me very proud. Proud to recognize that if a person's first language is American English, they see purple and shout "Go Team!" Proud to realize that the sport of modern marathoning would not be what it is without the empowering powerhouse of Team in Training, accepting anybody who wants to dream about a finish line and watching them earn a medal around their neck. Proud to know that we fund research that lets someone who once heard their doctor say "I'm sorry, you have cancer", later go to Athens and run in the footsteps of Pheippides, both of whom can proclaim "we have won" 42.2k later, but only one of whom dies at the end of the story.

And as 12,500 runners assembled and met each other in the shadow of the Olympic flame and a long row of flags, the race organizers welcomed us. The president of the race organization said "The Marathon symbolizes, not only for the humanity but also for hundreds of marathon runners from all over the globe, the values of peace, the fellowship of nations, the importance of human feats and the need of people for great, truthful, and good ideals, this is applied not only in their athletic activities but also in their everyday lives." The Mayor of Athens concurred that the Marathon "is a tribute to the human will, a race-challenge for the human soul, a race that goes beyond the limits of a simple sport event." And with a gunshot that contained no bullet, 12,500 runners from around the world set out with a common and peaceful goal.

I ran a smart race. Checked the forecasts and dressed right, memorized the grades, ate right in preparation and throughout the race, took on nutrition and water, kept my sodium levels up and avoided cramping, cooled myself off with water when I got hot, and walked when I needed a break. Minded my effort level on the long climbs and minded my form on the (few) descents. Followed the blue line permanently painted on the road signifying the route and the signs to "Athina" Kept a casual eye on the clock and got great satisfaction from how much faster each kilometer comes than a mile, then began to really believe and kick in the last 10k to negative split and bring home a PR in the end. The setting was unique and the topography was challenging, and I could write pages about the mile-by-mile ongoings, but this isn't what made Athens epic. When I go back to the course in my mind, I see country names and flags on the backs of shirts. I have to smile thinking of dozens of runners in togas or bare feet, some bearing swords and sporting helmets and shields. And best of all, I see the entire 42.2 kilometer route - through what looked like dry, desolate and even abandoned rural scenes - lined with Greeks, graciously hosting us and cheering "bravo!", confirming their welcome by waving olive branches over the passing runners.

Sometimes I sense the shadow of a doubt, that when I describe certain experiences in these hyperbolae that I'm just dreaming and making more of something than is really there. I consider whether my sense of wonder will wear off, though I doubt it. I love to be a part of a Team in Training participant's journey through training and across their first finish line because finishing a marathon changes things, and I find energy in just being close to the same sense of wonder in someone else. Once in a while I come across other runners that don't seem to connect with the sport anything like I do, like they are just going through the motions, or are even upset or unhappy. I think Athens was unique because the field was made up of people with such reverence for the Marathon that they would make the long pilgrimage to honor it with their participation. People had come to be a part of history, to be part of something so obviously very big that it was okay to let it be big. Okay to feel waves of emotions rather than try to hide them, because this historic race setting was a safe place for age-old emotions to be realized. After I bowed to let a Greek woman place my medal around my neck, wiping my tears to take in the stadium around me, I noticed the man next to me: a tall, fit, beautiful German man - weeping. Other runners were on their knees, kissing the track.

I'll tell you what: that's the legend of Marathon. Two and a half millenia have no bearing on the timeless truths that the marathon stands testament to: the resilience of the human spirit. The inability of fear and worldly struggles to get in the way of the great achievements that dreamers turn into reality through their commitments. On top of everything the marathon means to the individuals who run it, it also creates a bond among them, which on this day included all the world, and reminded me again and again that the human spirit itself is not bounded by black lines on a globe, but by the blue line on the road. If Pheippides was indeed just a legend, he was certainly actualized on this day in the hearts of the runners who came to know him over his famous route. But instead of honing the implements of war, we strengthened the elegant machine of the human body and the delicate bonds between the world's people that have far more in common that some may want to believe. Especially on this day, when the raw power of the marathon challenge unites us.

"Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness", said Mark Twain. So if world peace is indeed our dream, then our challenge is to go out into the world, understand the people who inhabit its other corners, and be peaceful.

Fall 15k

2010-10-24T18:47:00.001-05:00

Congratulations friends who ran this morning at the UW Running Club's annual Fall 15k! Proceeds from this event benefit the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society and the good work it does. Needless to say, Team In Training was on site, with several of my new winter teammates running and volunteering. A couple were participating in their first race - a special congratulations!
After having no rain so far this October, the plants finally got some relief today - to the dismay, probably, of the runners! A light mist gave way to a pretty much steady downpour at exactly the moment the gun began the race. This is a small local race, with a small field and a good atmosphere. The race director Ron - who was my first TNT coach - gives a few pre-race announcements, tells the runners that he'll say "ready, set", then they will go at the gun. And then he proceeds to say "ready, set... the gun!" and they're off! Pretty low-key. Nice. With Athens coming up in one week, I geared up to run in case someone needed one 5k leg of their relay team covered, but had no plans to run 9.3 miles. Instead, I took some photos, cheered, and tried to be a super-fan for the runners who were making it happen in the rain. Good job, all!
Visit my friend Kerri's blog for her race report from the day - perhaps more exciting than mine!

As for me, I did some easy running in the mist this afternoon through the lovely Pheasant Branch conservancy. A quiet and peaceful afternoon run accompanied by birds and squirrels, through the silence of meadows and forests unhurried by cars or the internet. Back to packing...

Chasing this dream is wrecking my moderation!

2010-10-14T12:02:00.000-05:00

This week I’m laid off from the state. No problem with me – I love the time off! (I know that’s easy for me to say because I can afford it, but sometimes trading money for time is about as good as it gets.) I was thinking of doing some traveling, visiting some friends and family, but several of life’s moving parts took a bit too long to solve, and by the time I got them squared away, the cost of traveling became outrageous. Instead I’ve committed myself to writing this week – devoting big chunks of time to writing the memoir that I’ve been dabbling with for a little more than a year now.

At one point in the fall, a working title came into focus, then the purpose of the thing started to take shape, and then I found myself organizing all these pages of various thoughts into an outline that made sense. Only a couple hours into the project, with focused dedication rather than splattered dabbling, the piece took shape in my mind and I’ve been practically obsessed with the project. I think this is the artist’s way – when the inspiration comes, go at it! Michelangelo described blocks of marble as containing the sculpture – he would work furiously to free the “prisoner” from the block by carving it away. In the same way, my mind is swollen with words, words, that need to be put onto these pages. As I write, sometimes words of one kind of another just come into my mind, and I stop mid-sentence to write the new one down somewhere else. My mind is writing the book, I’m just a vehicle; it’s a bit of a crazy driver, I just need to respond and answer its call as quickly as I can.

I’ve felt the same kind of urgency in writing songs: after perhaps weeks or months of thinking about a song, suddenly its form takes shape in my mind, and I must sit in complete submission to it until it is written on the page. The same thing is happening with this memoir – although it’s a lot longer than a song, and I’ve noticed the hours fly by as I allow it the devotion it’s asking for. Along the way, I’ve noticed myself neglecting some of the “healthy” habits I typically practice and encourage others to practice: eating healthily and regularly, taking breaks, exercising… instead I feel like I’ve just consumed cup after cup of coffee and sat mostly still, putting these words on the pages. I’ve also noticed myself being willing to set aside some of the usual “tasks” like getting organized or responding to emails, at least for a little while when inspiration is calling.

Of course, I’m not at the level of Michelangelo, fortunately or unfortunately, and I have been limited to several hours a day, after which I find myself completely mentally exhausted, but enthralled with actual progress showing up on the screen before me, at the blazing rate of about one page per hour! I’ve managed an hour workout everyday, too. Stay tuned … this thing’s going to become real.

Bike route... on foot: 20-miler #2

2010-10-09T15:59:00.000-05:00

I got the weekend started off right with a long run - my last long run before Athens, and the second of my two 20-milers as part of this training effort. I guess now it's taper time! And just in time - because as I got home, the Ironman world championship was streaming live online from Kona, a perfect way to hang out in the backyard, with compression socks, a blanket, and permission (given by me to myself) to sit relatively still for a couple hours. Judging from some of my friends' posts on Facebook, I'm not the only one who will likely spend several hours today watching the big race.

The best part about today's long run was noticing that to select a route, I went to my "rides" file to get the mileage I was looking for! A couple of the favorite routes that I have ridden over and over again now seemed like great candidates for a run: the Cap City loop, the Paoli loop. What a feeling to be way out in the countryside... on foot! I chose the Paoli route, because a new bike path has just opened up on that course, linking Madison to Fitchburg to Paoli, all in fresh, flat asphalt. Often road-cycling purists seem to stick with the roads rather than choosing bike paths - often I'm one of them, as both a cyclist and designer. Sometimes we're wary of bike paths because they may take longer or more circuitous routes, or are patchy in consistency, or include more tricky crossings than the roads themselves. Coming up to an intersection, for example, the driver of a car will look for other vehicles at the intersecting streets because he or she expects them - even bikes; when a bike path crosses a street, a driver may not think to look for bikes. Nevertheless, this path directly parallels the classic Paoli route along Seminole Highway, and even ends right at that same route again, with nearly the same mileage.

As such, riders looking like the "roadie purist" variety seemed to be among the many users on the trail today - I felt good that the path's good route design made it truly useful for these riders. I also felt particularly good about myself, because as I put more miles between myself and Madison, the looks I got from these guys when I said "good morning" seemed to be met with their noticing my mode and validating my enthusiasm for traveling on foot where most go on bicycle. Thanks to JP for riding with me and carrying a backpack of food and drinks for the 3-hour adventure.

People out today seemed to be in particularly good spirits; we saw several people twice as they did out-and-back rides (I did this too.) The weather is unusually warm for October in Wisconsin: over 80 degrees today! The sun was out, and the run really got quite hot, to the point where I eventually took off my shirt and poured some water over myself. Hey, I'll take it. A great day to play outside - and the trees are simply stunning. It's been a lovely fall for vivid colors week after week - stay tuned for the photos I've been taking.

As usual, the last few miles became quite tough, which is what training is all about. Being in familiar territory helped me know that I was making progress toward home - and some familiar drinking fountains were nice, too. I was looking forward to cleaning off, eating, and having an afternoon of relaxing (and writing!) In the last mile, a kid was playing in his front yard, maybe 6 years old - the right age to point and laugh at a guy running by with no shirt on. But was I discouraged? No way, because he was wearing a full chicken costume.

Meanwhile, another shout out to my friends who are headed to Chicago today, to join some 45,000 runners in tomorrow's Chicago Marathon ... and big kudos to my friend and coach Jackie who's racing the Ironman world championship today in Kona, Hawaii.

A new life, a new life

2010-10-04T21:02:00.004-05:00

Sunday morning's run was graced with a blaze of bright orange, red, and yellow as the bright sunlight cut through crisp air onto the changing trees. I joined my mentor, coach, and good friend Art for the second half of his 20-mile long run; I'm in between my two 20-milers as I reach the peak of my fall marathon training. I'm somewhere between tired from the summer and excited for the Athens marathon at the end of the month.

I had typed in a title for this post: "One season ends, another begins." Then thought: "ends?" Hardly! Running the marathon you've been training for all season - especially if it's your *first* marathon, is anything but an ending. It's a celebration, and a door flung suddenly wide open to all kinds of empowerment, confidence, and new dreams. Nothing short of a "new life." Tonight we held the Team In Training send-off party for our friends who have trained diligently all summer, and who are now making their ways to the Chicago, Marine Corps, and San Francisco marathons. Art showed photos from the past few years, which clearly reminded me just what an accomplishment each season is: a band of strangers teaming together and building up the miles and building up friendships. Equally impressive as the long miles traveled are the thousands of dollars raised - by each participant - along this important journey.

Meanwhile, another adventure is just beginning. One season gives way to the next, let's say. I'll be transitioning from a mentor to an assistant coach, with mentoring duties being immediately and capably embraced by Kerri. "We all know that the toughest part of training is just putting your shoes on" she wrote today in a brilliant email paralleling running to writing fund raising letters! Our first group run was Saturday morning - one of my favorite days because it's a blank page, an open book. Some people bought running shoes for the first time. Some are beginning a new life as "a runner." I'm sure some were nervous... but boy do we have something in store for them. The elation of the achievement isn't something you can go telling someone on the first day - they just have to experience it for themselves. I just have to wait. It's hard for me to contain my excitement, so I try to just listen, listen. In time, it will all come into place. For now, we'll just start with putting our shoes on; taking a single step.

That's Lucas with me (and my bike, which he noted is "way too big" for him). I just had to include him because he's so cute; he's our honored patient hero this winter!

Next Race: ATHENS

2010-09-26T14:24:00.007-05:00

With the colors on the leaves, and a crispness in the air, the shift is underway from tri season to my fall marathon. I'm still trying to feel rested and "normal" again after a big summer and Chicago, but am feeling the mental excitement start to build as I begin to focus in on "the big one." It's a crazy idea I had way back at the beginning of the year, and took action on to save my place, before I was really even mentally ready to get excited about another race. I had just gotten home from the Mardi Gras marathon in February, and was taking a little winter decompression break. But big events require early action if you want to snag a place before they sell out. So quietly, under this entire year, I've had a bib number waiting for me for October 31st, for what I expect will be the most epic marathon of my career.

October 31st is the annual running, but 2010 marks a particularly special anniversary. Legend has it that in 490 BC, an Athenian named Pheidippides ran from the battlefield at Marathon to Athens to pronounce the greek victory over Persia, "We have won", and - to make the story even better - immediately collapsed, dead. Historians dispute the historical accuracy, but it's good enough for me. October 31st will mark the 2,500th anniversary of this symbolic, heroic, mythical run, and trace a route indeed from Marathon to Athens, finishing at the same location as the modern marathon of the 2004 Olympic games.

I wrote a training schedule that made as smooth a segue as possible from being in pretty good 2.5-hour triathlon racing shape to 4-hour running shape, backing down the swim and bike miles while increasing my long run miles... slowly enough to get ready but quickly enough to, well, get ready. Yesterday I had 18 on my schedule, and joined in with the Team in Training marathon squad preparing for the Chicago Marathon. Three weeks ahead of me, their training was peaking at 20 miles - and I had so much fun joining in that I was motivated to go the whole distance with them, which should allow me to still run one more 20-mile training run the weekend after next. I'm a little tight in the legs and stiff in the knees today, but feeling great about being on track training-wise. Anyway, I don't want to be in any rush as I retrace the footsteps of legends on the historic day. Who knows if I'll even worry about my watch - besides knowing that a marathon is 42k, I'm not sure quite what I'll do with 1k splits!

So that's what's next. My new shoes are here (thanks Endurance House), and are even broken in with yesterday's 20-miler. Plane tickets in hand. Race registration complete. And excitement building as training gets specific and the race draws near.

The race organizers have a good website at http://www.athensclassicmarathon.gr, with a convenient "English" button for instructions that aren't "all greek to me." Of course, I had a chuckle over some of the translations, like these favorites:

All runners will receive, along with their bib number, a timing chip. Specialists on timing will show you its function upon collection.
As it is mentioned on the registration form, all runners “…. compete at the Marathon race/Power Walking/10km Road Race/5km Road Race in complete personal responsibility having already taken all medical exams”.
For their own facilitation, the runners are adviced not to congest in front of the first table of each [aid] station
From the 11th to the 17thkm the course goes uphill at certain parts. Then, and before the Rafina Junction, the runners meet a steep descent. Starting from the Rafina Junction, the course goes uphill again, while the most difficult part is until the 20thkm.
The Organizing Committee will make any possible effort so that this race is marked in the memory of all participants as the best race ever.

Race Report, closing the 2010 season: Devil's Challenge

2010-09-20T20:14:00.014-05:00

Under a blanket of gray clouds, a soft steam rose from the glassy water at Devil's Lake. A few splashes of color dotted the trees in the park, a smell of fall floated through the air, and the cold rainy morning told us all that it's time for this summer sport of ours to wind down and take a break.

After racing one more day, that is. Getting up early, driving up to the park, unloading and getting set up, I didn't notice any sadness or sentimentality, just all the invigorating excitement that each race brings. A great chance to give it a little extra - "race like it's the last race of the season" ... indeed! I was happy to be back this year for another go at the "Devil's Challenge". I like this race because it's set in a lovely state park, features challenging hills, and attracts a very wide field of participants - about 600 of them - with all different ability and experience levels. There's only one distance available, a sprint, but there's a popular relay version that attracts friends and families who gang up and collectively shed the all-too-common barriers like "but I can't swim!"

The water was cool, but completely calm. The water level is low enough, also, that most people can touch the bottom if something comes up that necessitates a break from swimming; although it takes more time, it makes me feel good that novices can participate with the comfort of solid ground nearby. I haven't been doing a lot of swimming lately, so I focused on practicing good mechanics and gliding along, while enjoying the fresh feeling of the cool water flowing over me.

Eight minutes later, I was coming up the stairs from the beach and making a dash for my bike. I had decided that I would wear my shorts and sleeveless uniform, but add riding gloves for some comfort on the cold day. Good decision - except that trying to pull gloves over wet hands while rolling down the road turned out to be much more challenging than I expected. I was glad to be in a brief pocket of solitude on the flat park road, because I made a few swerves as I yanked the gloves into place. I am glad I wore them, am glad I didn't crash putting them on, and am glad I didn't drop either of them in the process. Phew :) Moments later, it was time to get down to business - a mile-long climb... then another... then another. I settled into my "spin to win" credo, sat up, and just kept the pedals going round and round. Slow was OK with me - making forward progress, keeping below that mysterious threshold of blowing up, and having fun were my objectives. Although they are relentless, the nicest things about the long hills at Devil's Lake is that they reward you with long downhills, too! I still do not have the speedometer attached to my racing bike, but didn't need any numbers to verify that I was going "super fast" and having a "great time." Somewhere near the middle of the ride, the sky opened into a steady rain, which made the day more epic, if you ask me. Near the end of the ride, I fell in with another guy in my age group, which turned up the competitive spirit and kept me feeling motivated to give it 100%. The turns were dicey, and I was pleased to stay upright throughout the ride.

Photo credit to Dwight M. for capturing this great shot as I wrapped up the bike and came into T2. Good to see that I have "feet" in this image, because I couldn't feel a thing down there!

The fans were huddling under umbrellas and blankets near transition, and I tried to encourage them to make some noise in spite of their coldness. A great collection of spouses, kids, parents... and friends who did Ironman last weekend!

My feet were very interesting on the run. I'm glad I don't have to tie laces, because

I left my gloves on, and couldn't really feel my feet. As I took off, the sensation of poking into the balls of my feet made

me feel like I was still wearing bike shoes with cleats! With three miles and all winter in front of me, I turned over my little legs as fast as I could and tried to keep it going hard. The course is generally flat, and goes through the park's campground, where folks were warming near their fires and eating breakfast. Near mile 1, the same guy from the bike course came around me again, and I pushed hard to stay close to him - at some point I decided that the Athens Marathon next month was much more important to me than the difference between a 2nd or 3rd in my age group, and opted out of trying to out-sprint him, and instead exchanged handshakes and "great race" sentiments on the other side of the finish line.

I cheered in several friends who were also competing (including Laura, whose company made the trip really enjoyable) in individual and relay races. In spite of the cold and the rain, it seemed like everyone was having a good time. "Bad" weather is like steep hills: it just makes the race harder - equally for everyone - and makes the finish all the more sweet to achieve. As the morning ended, bikes were rolling out and the transition racks were coming down; the buoys were coming back in to the boathouse. Some people were floating on clouds after just finishing their first triathlon ever - and I bet most, from the novice to the elite, were looking forward to doing it again, even if not for a little while.

A hearty shout out to my friends racing tomorrow

2010-09-11T18:37:00.003-05:00

It's time - Ironman is here. It's back. All this week the excitement built back up in Madison as this prestigious (yet democratic) event made its way back into our town. As soon as Labor Day's promise of fall's arrival started our minds heading down the sojourn toward another fall, the Ironman trucks began docking and setting up one of the most victorious proclamations of playing outside in the summer. The nights are suddenly cooler, the window air conditioner is back in the garage, but there's still some time left - and a few things left that we need to do yet this summer. We need to celebrate all the hard work we've done.

I'm writing like I'm winding myself down for the evening with the setting sun, like I've come back from dropping off my gear bags and am finishing my pasta dinner and trying to stay calm. I hope I can sleep tonight. Emotionally, I think I'm practically ready to race tomorrow. I need some new goggles and I can't find my sunglasses, though, so I'd better sit it out. (Oh, and I'm not registered and didn't devote the year to training!) The event is so big, so meaningful to me, so exciting for the city, that I think a lot of people, participating or not, are feeling a strange nervousness tonight in anticipation. We're watching the weather - it looks like it's going to be perfect. We've been watching the finish line get set up. We're making plans for the day, to take in all the best moments that we can.

We're also making lists of friends who are participating, and thinking of the very best ways that we can support them. Their objectives and skills and motivations are likely different than mine, their goals are purely their own, so I try to pay close attention to all of my remarks. Sometimes I think people plan to go too fast - but their pace is up to them. I offer to be helpful however I can, not because I know any better than them what is right for them, but because I want them to experience the joy of the best race they can have, and I'm glad to support their efforts. Many of my teammates and friends are racing tomorrow, and who knows what's going through their heads now.

I've spent a lot of time this week looking back at what went through my head at this time last year; I've re-read some of my posts and drafts and notes. Do I regret not signing up for tomorrow's race? Not at all. I'm glad I let it be as big as it can be. Something to do only after putting your whole heart into it, not a task that's done over and over to the point that it becomes any kind of a burden. I know some folks who do tons of Ironman races, and it's great for them. For me, training, racing, and life overall needs to be cyclical, with ups and downs, periods of intensity and periods of rest. Ironman for me last year was as big a deal for me as I let it be, and taking some time before doing it again helps it stay that unique and special to me. Spectating tomorrow, for the first time since knowing what it feels like on the other side of the fence, will be different. It'll be better for me. And I hope that my status as "finisher" will help me be a better supporter for my friends who will be out there tomorrow giving it all they've got.

Godspeed friends, teammates.... visitors, professionals.... rookies and veterans alike. The course is the same for all who attempt it, making the race anything you want to make of it. I'll be out there ringing my cowbell and trying to remind you to make the very best of it, because you deserve nothing less.

Credit for Character

2010-09-07T17:00:00.002-05:00

This has been a tough topic for me to get started on – it’s not something that I feel is particularly easy to articulate. But I’ll dive in with the confidences that: one, I’m writing about personal beliefs that I feel are fundamentally true; two, I can compare them to my experience at the races, which I’ve written about a lot; and three, once I get warmed up, if I can stay in the zone by hanging on to my purpose, things always start to flow a bit easier. It will probably take less time than a 20-mile training run, result in less pain, keep me closer to the bathroom, and have me feeling pretty good at the end.

I believe in justice. I believe in doing the right thing, and I believe that by doing the right thing, life will somehow be better. What “the right thing” is is not always evident, and sometimes it’s downright opaque. Sometimes there are many more “right choices” than just one, and so many factors can contribute to what is “right” that sometimes a long period of soul-searching doesn’t even conclude with a definitive direction to head off in. To make matters more complicated, what one person might call “right”, another might find quite offensive. And on and on, through each day in the world, interacting with others, we’re constantly faced with our choices, in how we live our own lives and how we interact with others. At the bottom line, even if it means trying harder or going out of my way, I try to do what’s right.

Along the way, really the only thing I can control in all these decisions and interactions is my own course of action – including my own reactions. It seems that one resource after another about being happy and resilient and healthy focuses inward, on managing one’s own thoughts and reactions to the constant bombardment the world throws our way. I’m on board – though it’s easier said than done. I notice that I can get pretty hot pretty fast when I feel injustice: when I feel pushed, or cut off, or misunderstood, or cheated. All politics or news media phenomena aside, instances where “bad guys” do nasty things and seem to get away with it simply make me feel upset. Maybe their actions impact me indirectly, maybe hardly at all – the notion that injustice exists at all can be enough to wind me up. I’m here going out of my way to try to do something right – and you want to take advantage of me? Push me? Swoop in and claim for yourself something that I have been working hard for? Take a shortcut but still claim the glory? No way.

I bet a lot of us hold certain ideals in our lives that we seldom manage to talk about. They might be deeply ingrained – things our parents taught us, or we have clung to for our whole lives. Things we’re willing to take on faith that must be held on to, because they are simply “the right thing”. If I never cheat, no one is ever going to display a document that shows “zero cheats out of 5,000 opportunities!” to some applauding crowd. Perhaps a talented eulogizer might make a remark like “he was a good and honest man”, or a compassionate peer may say “he is retiring after years of faithful and dedicated service.” Sometimes we hear a welcome and refreshing “Thank you” along the way from someone who notices; sometimes we are recognized because hard work and good work stand out. I suspect even a humble person appreciates the affirmation that recognition brings from time to time – we need the reminders that “good” does in fact prevail. Nobody really knows but us which ideals we’ve managed to uphold, or which ideals we’ve even tried to go after.

On a smaller scale, the races know. The races know whether we’ve been naughty or nice, and they’re not afraid to tell us. The longer the race, the more it speaks up. And for a guy who needs to feel that justice does in fact prevail, I cling to these experiences as supporting evidence. Training and racing for me has become a strength-builder for my sense of faith. We bring all sorts of things with us to the staring line – either the start of the season or the start of the race - and getting started takes faith. Keeping going takes faith – and guts – and training. The finish line gives us proof.

At most of the races, all it takes to toe the starting line is an on-time application and paid-in-full entry fee. (On another level, sure, it takes courage too – that’s another chapter). I guess even a cheater can show up at the race as a “bandit”, without paying the entry fee. The course is the great leveler: we all toe the same line, we all follow the same route, we all aim for the same finish line.

Where I stand in the amateur age-group pack, I race against myself – somewhat against the clock to compare this race’s outcome to other races’, or other years’, but mostly toward the very best I have to offer on that day. The more I race, the more I learn about myself, and so the challenge heightens as I seek to inch ever closer to that thin gray line between personal best and complete disaster. If I get faster, perhaps my thin gray line will go right up next to someone else’s and we’ll be racing each other for first place, but that’s not something I currently have much experience with!

My very best on race day starts many days before. It started at some point when I decided to make that race a priority and go get it. In the case of the Ironman, it started as a dream years before, that finally materialized as I signed up, a year prior to the event. Between signing up and toeing the line, the season was mine to capture or squander. Training decisions can represent those “right” decisions – indeed the most meaningful and effective training plan is founded not just on athletic tasks, but on the personal values that brought you to committing to training to begin with. In this respect, the races aren’t just a metaphor for life’s challenge to make good choices – they are life’s choices. Training and racing become part of our value systems, for themselves, and for what they represent. The most effective training plan is one you believe in – and so is one that starts by defining things like “why am I training” or “what role does this play in my life overall?”

Though I am reluctant to say it, for fear that it sounds like boasting, I never doubted whether I would finish the Ironman. I took a lot of time to carefully draw out my plan, address my limiters, celebrate my strengths, and make the training a positive part of my life overall. Barring any catastrophe – and I was careful to look for my risks as well – my plan would pay off if I were true to it. I don’t mean rigidly following 365 days of workouts, either, because my plan was driven by concepts, including not just exercise, but patience and flexibility as well. When specific workouts, or even weekly plans, fell through, I would regroup and refer back to the fundamentals behind the plan – training periods, training purposes, life goals – and continue forward. Not only that, but the training itself was fun: I met great people, I enjoyed better health, I felt comfort in the schedule – and so I did not spend the whole summer looking forward to one day in the fall, but lived each day for what it was, with the confidence that the overarching plan – the “values” – would lead me to where I wanted to eventually go. This echoes those countless other life situations that ask us to consider our own ideals, and do “what’s right.”

In most cases, the period of training comes to a close and gives way to the race. The day of the race will illustrate how the months of training went: and it tell it to you straight. Whether your training schedule was good or bad – or if you stuck to it – will become evident. You can take shortcuts in training, and they may make those training days easier, but they will probably not make race day easier. Race day is a judgment day, and there’s no hiding from the choices you made in getting there. Sure, you can hide them from other people: most fans and other racers don’t really know what you’re capable of, but you sure do. Sometimes the other racers do indeed help illustrate you choices. I remember starting the Disney Marathon amidst a field of tens of thousands, after a tough season of training gently on the borderline of getting stronger while managing a hip injury. My approach was a slow-and-steady 8+2 run+walk pace, and let me tell you: when my watch beeped after the first eight minutes and I slowed to a walk aside six lanes of bodies rushing past me like the Mississippi, it took a lot of faith to predict the sweetness I would feel three hours later, moving up the field, as the pace that was best for me actualized itself into success. Some die-hards would insist that it didn’t count because I didn’t run the whole thing, but it does: I went 26.2. And I guarantee that among the people I passed were at least a few who made some short cuts in their training, or made excuses to themselves or others, or lost the discipline to rest or eat right, and race day hammered down its impartial gavel in response.

The longer races even call your values to the table within the race. Do you know yourself well enough to spend just the right amount of energy on the swim and bike to be able to run your best? Have you exercised the patience required to do your best – through the morning and through the season? Have you stuck to your plans and also adapted on the fly to the inevitable changes that have come up? In life it can be tempting to make excuses when things don’t go our way; if we sit and pout during a race, the clock still keeps on ticking. I like to see people enjoy success at the races, it’s disappointing to see people’s dreams come apart with cramps, overheating, collapse, GI problems, who knows what else. But there was a certain feeling of vindication halfway through that Ironman marathon run, as I trotted along past other athletes literally falling over, stopping as some earlier impatience came running up and grabbed them from behind. I have no knowledge of their situations, their training, their personal composition, but the notion that some athletes break down speaks loudly enough to me about my own choices. An athlete can stand at the starting line and boast about his or her speed or time or equipment – and some do, and I try to quietly let these remarks just roll on by – but the race will speak for itself. The race will beat up the cocky contestant who fails to respect it, and move the patient believer on up steadily through the field and across the line.

Seldom is credit is given out loud for holding true to important values – for maintaining one’s character at a high level, if you will. For trying extra hard, or making choices that aren’t immediately rewarding; for going after the goals that seem ultimately important. On race day, all the hard work and the faith give way to the truth - the proof - and you end up with a medal around your neck that says “you were brave, you did not compromise your values, you achieved your goals.” Each medal, each finish line, is an opportunity to get credit for character.

Race Report: Chicago Triathlon!

2010-08-30T16:32:00.005-05:00

I’ve already made some remarks about the triple crown – here was the big weekend to finish it off, to bring it home. Since Madison is only about three hours away from Chicago by car, TNT approaches this race prudently: with transportation on our own and only one night’s hotel stay. Of course, the hotel is the Hilton Chicago, the official hotel of the race and all its registration activities, perfectly comfortable and as close as it gets to the starting line and all the race action.

Race weekend began on Friday afternoon for me this time – since I’ve been to the big races that encompass a whole weekend, I wanted to create the same vibe here – to get away a little bit, to not be driving to the site the day before the race; instead to take care of all the travel and check-in and registration on Friday, then have Saturday to entirely enjoy – the morning on my own,

and the afternoon with friends. I was stuck in some traffic, but the day of buffer made any rush to get here quite irrelevant. (As an aside, one thing that I notice about Chicago that seems different than New York: there’s hardly any horn-honking here! Squeeze in, and hurry up – but no need for constant pushing.) Friday found me meandering through the large race expo, restraining myself from buying super-expensive gear, (marveling as usual at how good-looking I think triathletes are), meeting some of the Illinois TNT members, sitting on the Hilton rooftop tapping away at my keys as the sun set behind the Sears Tower, and going to bed super early. Yep, it’s vacation.

I often think about what draws people to triathlon, and – if they’re anything like me – what keeps them coming back to it. I spent a lot of this sunny Saturday morning thinking about this, as I strolled from the hotel out to the race course, which was filled with runners, walkers, and bicyclists. Some of them were probably the “usual” Saturday morning Chicago crowd, and some were certainly race-participants completing their final workouts. The racers are easy to spot because if their aero bars and race clothes didn’t give them away, the numbers written on their arms and legs always do. (I brought my own black marker so that I could save my body marking for after my final Saturday bath!) Triathletes don’t all look the same – they’re different shapes and sizes and ages, they wear different clothes and ride different bikes. Coming to a huge race like Chicago makes the diversity of the sport even more evident, and I like it.

Saturday was a day for preparations and Team in Training camaraderie. All of the Madison folks arrived by mid-day, and some of us had lunch together before walking to the race site to familiarize ourselves with what was about to happen. We had planned a short swim, but there was too much race set-up and boating going on. At least we got to see the swim area, practice the long walk along the beach from the swim exit to the transition, and get a feel for the huge transition area. We also had a chance to go together to the race expo and get our numbers, timing chips, T-shirts, and various free goodies! I saw a talk with a couple of my favorite pro’s, Andy Potts and Sarah Haskins (who won on Sunday), but didn’t have time to stay and meet them. One of the things I love about the sport is that its top professionals seem like down-to-earth, approachable, fun people. At all levels, triathletes support each other.

Evening brought the traditional Team in Training pasta party dinner: this is an important focusing time for our Team. Because this was a comparatively small TNT event (about 150 athletes from mostly Illinois and Wisconsin), rather than eat in an impersonal hotel ballroom, we gathered at Morton’s Steakhouse on Wacker Drive for quite a classy and delicious dinner. Here we gathered as a Team of athletes with different backgrounds and abilities, but with a common purpose. We remembered and honored our patient friends and family members and heroes, we celebrated our fund raising accomplishments, we recognized those who volunteer their time in various capacities to make this organization the best of its kind, and we heard thanks first-hand from one of our triathlete teammates who also had Leukemia… and got better. Out of the 150, I was the only one to be recognized this evening for achieving the Triple Crown, and was thrilled to stand among my friends and accept the pin I had waited years to receive.

Saturday evening eventually faded then gave way suddenly to Sunday morning, 3:45am. The Chicago Triathlon is actually the world’s largest triathlon – around 9,000 athletes, with a super-sprint and kids’ tri on Saturday followed by Sprint and Olympic-distances on Sunday. Compare this to some of the other local races I’ve done this year… usually around 200 athletes. Wow. Imagine what 7,000 bikes look like – transition is huge, busy, and exciting. On race morning, transition opens at 4:15am and closes at 5:45am – everyone needs to get in and get set up during that time, because the race begins at 6:00am. To get all those people through the course, though, the race starts in waves. Something like 60 waves in this case, 4 minutes apart from each other. The men ages 30-34 (like me) are in wave 49 – so after I leave my things in transition at 5:30, the day is mine until 9:28, when my wave begins the race! My race morning included walking back to the hotel, packing up and checking out, getting more breakfast and coffee, then coming back to the race site to watch the action and cheer on my friends. One down side was no safe place to put things down during the race, which meant no camera for most of the day after I stored my bag.

OK, 1,000 words into the race report and I’m about to start the race. (Have you noticed that the race itself is cool, but the experiences of the season, the Team, the friends, and the race weekend is what it’s all about?!) It’s craziness at the waterfront: swimmers going by in both directions, runners coming through, some athletes sleeping on the grass waiting and other athletes suiting up and getting ready to go. By 9:00am, the sun is well up into the cloudless sky and it’s hot already, and I put my black neoprene wetsuit on in the shade, and dump cups of water down it from time to time to stay cool. I see off my teammate Lynn who’s two waves in front of me, and find my own place in line. (Dare I tell the world inside secrets of triathlon like how this is the place where you pee one last time, in your wetsuit where no one will ever notice?)

Lake Michigan is calm – and refreshingly cool at 72 degrees. The water is clear and I can see the bottom about 10 feet below. The swim goes along the sheet-pile shoreline wall, which means that swimmers have the comfort of never being very far out to sea, anyone whose nerves gets the better of them has ladders and whatnot to hold on to, fans can sit right next to the water and see the swimmers up-close, and the course is super-easy to navigate! My earplugs are in, I find some uncrowded water near the wall, and I go into the zone. In the calm water, I have the fun of actually seeing the bottom go by, and feeling like I’m really gliding forward. I had not put a lot of focus onto swim training this past month, so I could not draw power from my strength, but good form comes from the mind – I spent the swim focusing on all the techniques of swimming smooth, easy, and efficiently; I found my groove and settled in. Every so often I’d come up to another swimmer, move around, and continue on. I noticed myself moving up through the field, which felt great, especially since I was focusing on gliding easily – swimming slowly, really. One of the other swimmers looked familiar… who knew, right beside me was Lynn! I startled her a bit when I shouted out to her, but it was really fun to happen to connect in the water amidst all the commotion.

My swim ended a half hour after it began, and I came up the stairs onto the lakeside path to T1. We had seen this the previous day so we could be ready: the run was about 1/4-mile! I timed it and noticed later it took a whole 2:37 to do this run… and think I was smart to stop and take off my wetsuit just after getting out of the water, so I could start getting cooler and dryer on the trek. I found my bike quickly from the landmarks I had memorized earlier that morning, put on bike shoes and helmet, and headed for the road – another long journey of pushing my bike past the rows and rows and rows of other bikes, then over the grass, then through some trees, then finally to the road!

My favorite part: the bike leg. I’m feeling good on my race bike and race wheels, coming off a smooth and fast transition after a refreshing swim. My heart is pounding, but I know that if I start steady but not too fast, I’ll be feeling calm and smooth within a few minutes. The bike course is on Lakeshore Drive – a road with four lanes in each direction. Today, the inside two lanes are filled with bikes, and the outside two are actively full of ordinary city-driving cars. It’s fun to be flying past the slow-moving inbound traffic – and also fun to be passing lots of other riders. Because bikes are making a loop on this road, bikes are inside and cars are outside… so all the bike passing is done on the outside – in this case, on the right. It’s a little unusual, but I got the hang of it quickly. “Passing right” felt funny – but I was happy to say it! Team in Training jerseys were all over the place, and we shouted “Go team!” and “Great ride!” to each other. The flat bike course allowed me to lock in and ride, getting out of the saddle to climb the slight inclines for overpasses, and eating some energy food at my planned times. One fellow biker had the same bike, and nearly the same pace, which was fun. The lakeside route and Chicago skyline were stunning, though I kept most of my focus on the road to dodge other riders, pavement cracks, and potholes. It was disappointing to see the riders broken down in the middle who had crashed or flatted – some of them were simply walking it back to transition. It was a thrill to ride fast for a whole 40k, and a relief to complete it without incident, and I made my way back into transition – though the trees and over the grass and past the rows and rows and rows of bikes – to the spot I had claimed more than 6 hours earlier. T2 usually feels “too easy” – put away the bike, change shoes, put on hat, grab number, and go!

It was getting hot. The sun was high and the bike’s cooling wind was finished. I recalled my race at Green Lake earlier in the summer where I faded later in the fun, and was careful not to go out too fast. The crowds were great and I felt so proud to receive their cheers of “Go Team” and the like. Big support like this really makes a big difference – more and more as the races get harder. Today’s race was about to get really, really hard. I hear that the midday temperature made it into the mid- or upper 90’s. I felt the sun beating down on me and knew that I had to stay smart with my pace: racing today was a fine line between doing one’s very best and going away in an ambulance. A lot of participants seemed to be doing the latter. Many others were walking: some because they knew they had to, and others because they had no other choice. I think one of the things I – and many of my friends who are hooked on racing – strangely crave in this race environment is finding the borderline between personal best and complete disaster. It’s my own body, but it’s hard to know, especially as the seasons go on and my mind gains more power over it. On a hot day like this one, it’s not just about balancing energy, muscles, and fuel with the running, but factoring in extreme heat as well.

Mile two and a new experience: complete leg failure. My left leg felt funny, I looked down and it wasn’t moving right, either. Then, for the first time, it stopped working – the hamstring cramped and wouldn’t run any more. Oh yes, and it hurt a ton. I have no idea how long I was at the side of the path with my eyes closed, bent over, breathing, and stretching it gently out – there are no clocks in a yoga room or a meditation chapel. I have no idea how many runners went by or spectators looked on, because there was nothing else but me and my breath in that instant – it was really quite spiritual, to say the least. Then the cramp was over, and I stood up and started walking ahead. Move gently, get electrolytes, and go to the finish line. Fortunately, a TNT coach was right up the road who was able to give me just the boost I needed to get back into a trot… at all the subsequent water stations I took on extra Gatorade, and water to rinse it down and dump all over myself to cool off.

The day sort of reminded me of the Disney marathon – only hotter. The extra electrolytes had my leg under control and I settled into a run, albeit what felt like a slow one. I kept smiling and high-fiving my TNT teammates who passed on the path, I tried to take in the beaches and the skyline and the impressive Chicago scene. I kept breathing and standing up straight and putting one foot in front of the other, until eventually I came to the end. The crowd became dense again, and my focus on making it to the finish shifted to a focus on celebrating the finish. As I zipped up my jersey for my photo finish, I felt two feel taller and fast as a pro. The crowds were a blur but I could feel their support and hear their cheers – and suddenly I had finished!

I spent extra time in the finishers’ area. Several cups of Gatorade, several laps of slow-walking. A visit to the wet-towel tub, including a moment of grabbing the hose from the kid who was filling the tub and spraying it all over myself! A few moments standing in front of the mist-blowing fans letting the cool air blow over me and some tears fall between me, my honored patient heroes, my teammates, and the success I earned that day from my own hard work, diligent preparation, and perseverance. A few hours of meeting up with teammates as they finished their races, then collecting gear and making the drive back to Madison. And a lifetime, of course, with the race completed and the medal to prove it.

Turns out I was going pretty fast, too. If you’re interested in the stats, you can surf on over to http://results.active.com/pages/oneResult.jsp?pID=89708010&rsID=98011

Race report from a non-race: Madison Mini-marathon

2010-08-22T17:06:00.005-05:00

This weekend brought to town the second annual Madison Mini Marathon - a half-marathon + 5k race. Team in Training had signed up to supply a lot of volunteers for the day, and being the weekend before my Chicago Triathlon, I volunteered my time for the morning as an "ask me" person - and had the opportunity to help tell participants where the starting lines were, where to put their bags, where to go to the bathroom, and so on. Some days you race, some days you make racing possible.

I got up before 5 and biked to the start/finish area before dawn, which was a pleasant reminder of just how much I love the early morning. Beyond the beam of my helmet-mounted head lamp lay silent streets, all mine, and the faint suggestion of the dawn's early light. It's almost spiritual to me, my personal time with the morning world around me. Arriving at the race site, I felt the rush of race morning: light plants strangely illuminating still-quiet stanchions and unused port-a-potties; a starting line standing quietly with an empty road before it; thousands of ripe bananas boxed and ready. Race morning, there's just something so special about it. Maybe one of the things that brings runners together is their common willingness to get up super early to do something hard.

Several Team in Training friends participated in the race, mostly in the half-marathon, some using it as a training run for their upcoming full-marathon races. The day was a big milestone for some, too - Kevin ran his first half-marathon (as part of his recent conversion from cyclist to triathlete), and so did Kerri and Jessica. It's so exciting to be part of that milestone in a friend and teammate's life.

I completed my volunteer duties, and watched the 5k finishers come and go, then watched the half-marathon finishers come across the line. I gave out some fivers in the finish chute to my friends, and heard how the race went for them. The day remained overcast and cool, but very humid, which made for a lot of wet runners, but generally happy ones. My friends were all running a half-marathon. My volunteer duties were done. My olympic-triathlon was eight days away. And it was still only Saturday - so I did what my heart told me I had to do: I rode home, put on my shoes, and ran the course!

The course is a big loop around town, with my house near the 11-mile mark, so I ran 2 miles in and picked up the course, just as the last participants were making their way into the home stretch. I ran into several friends volunteering, who seemed a bit surprised to see me, and see me looking quite fresh, until I told them I was just getting started on my running-day. I had a good time encouraging the back-of-the-pack runners who were undoubtedly finishing off an important achievement for themselves, and I was proud. In my fourth mile and their twelfth, I came up to another purple jersey, and introduced myself to a young TNT woman from the Indiana chapter. She was toughing it out, and so happy to see me: helping each other out is what Team in Training is all about. It was perfect timing - she immediately started running with me, and I assured her that the finish line was within reach. In your weekend, what stranger did you come upon and encourage, for no reason but the joy of helping them get to their finish line?

I admit, my half-marathon included a long intermission with a water and bathroom break, and visit with my friends who were hanging around their finish line celebrating. Eventually, I moved on: first through droves of finishers walking slowly but proudly to their cars to head home and put their feet up, then out of town into the meat of the course, alone. The route took me through familiar territory: Campus, Monroe Street, the arboretum. A couple nondistinct parts of the Ironman course that had escaped my memory. And I just kept on running. Something changes when you run long, and you let it change. I practiced thinking only of the present, I tried to notice myself and my surroundings. Interestingly, I also noticed my movement along the road and past the trees and lakes - I was reminded of my journey by train home from New Orleans, sitting still inside the window as the exterior passed me by. Like the City of New Orleans, the place I sat and observed was quiet and removed from the locomotive, and strangely, here I was a pair of eyes seeing the world go by, without a concern for the energy some other part of my body was spending on "running".

Eventually, I left the arboretum and made my way back to my house. No big blue finish line, no cheering fans, no official clock to pronounce that I had set a new PR, but I put my arms up and celebrated nonetheless. 13.1 miles exactly, and home before noon on a Saturday, having volunteered both for the race officials and on my own. There's a special energy about the finish line, and it's best spent with friends, but this was a reminder that each finish line is inside, each race is your own, each day holds the potential for whatever you want to make out of it.

Triple Crown!

2010-08-19T08:46:00.004-05:00

At last, the time has come to realize a dream I've had for years. I'll tell the condensed version here. I came to Team in Training in 2007, wanting to learn to run long, and signed up for my first half-marathon: PF Chang's in Phoenix. I trained through the Wisconsin winter, came to know my teammates and coaches and mentors, came to enjoy running in spite of several aches and issues my body gave back to me. I liked being part of a group, I liked its supportive atmosphere... but I had no idea just what a group I was part of until race weekend. Arriving in Milwaukee to fly out, our team of about a dozen met up with the Milwaukee squad and about doubled. Landing in the Phoenix airport, there were TNT logos all over the place. Walking around town, there were TNT participants everywhere, with their chapter locations on the backs of their shirts - they were from all over the country! It was easy to strike up a conversation with any of them - we all had the same mission, and we had all been training tog

ether. The evening before the race, our little dozen had become a thousand, and they announced that together, we had raised $3.6 million for that event. Along the race course, purple and green lined the streets, and people surviving a disease once called "100% fatal" by the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society itself, shouted "Thank you, Team in Training" as each participant passed, fast or slow.

I could see no reason why I should stop being a part of this exceptional organization. I began mentoring others to help them raise money and train, too. I wanted to do more with TNT - and my eye was grabbed by a special prize, one that represented the highest level of commitment: the TNT Triple Crown. This award is earned by completing - both training and fund raising - an event in each of TNT's disciplines: run, cycle, and tri. The Chicago triathlon will round out the accomplishment for me. (I know, didn't I do the Ironman? Yes, but it was a 'local' TNT event, and technically I needed to complete a 'national' TNT event, like Chicago.)

Earlier in the season, I must have been bantering with my teammates about the Triple Crown - that I had hoped at least some kind of tiara was part of the package. I'm told that apparently once I exclaimed that a scepter should be included as well. Well, to my surprise, at yesterday's send off my teammates had a whole to-do prepared, a veritable coronation ceremony, in which I was presented with a crown, scepter (wrapped in none other than purple bicycle handlebar tape!), and regal cake hand-made by our resident pastry-chef-teammate Traci! What a feeling! What kindness, team! Thank you, Team in Training!

Don't I have to wait until I finish the race to claim this prize? For those of you who have been reading along over the years, you know my answer is no: the season of training and fund raising is the real work - race day is the big celebration. The accomplishment is deciding to train and sticking with it through all kinds of conditions and doubts and changes; it's making new friends and getting to know them in the arb in the dark or in the middle of a lake; it's being strong enough to get out of the saddle and climb like mad some days, and being strong enough to say "Today I will rest" some other days.

10 days to go until Chicago: we're turning into the home stretch now. Round up your gear and rest up, because race weekend is coming!

Just a little update

2010-08-17T06:26:00.004-05:00

It's time to write some more - the blog seems to be bi-weekly this summer. I enjoy writing, and I trust that you enjoy following the journey and perhaps get some meaning out of a post here and there. There's a little lesson right in here, that if you want to make something a priority, you're going to have to let the other things calling your name just wait a bit. How do I carve out time for blogging - let alone making progress on my memoir? Well, Dano, how did you carve out time to train for the Ironman?

Ironman is coming back to Madison - it's on September 12th this year. All the excitement that I felt last year as I built up to this epic event is welling up inside of me again, and I can sense it in the athletes out there training hard. I know a little something for it - at least I know what worked for me. It seems that I hear a lot of the same things this year as I did last: "I'm not sure / he's feeling kind of burned out / she's injured / it's sure coming up fast..." and I still shy quietly away from some kind of smarty-pants remark about building a good schedule, harmonizing priorities, and frequently and intentionally resting. Looking back on it, last year I might have been unnerved by these kinds of remarks, but I had faith in my own approach - this year my emotion is practically identical, but I have proof.

I'm getting antsy to get up at 5:30 in the morning and join in for a few sessions. Getting up early seems to be the #1 way to carve out time to do things: if the only reason I am even awake is to do this thing, then here I am to focus on it. (Works pretty well for writing, too!) I've spent the last two Monday mornings out running with a professor turned TNT supporter turned running friend, Don, and immediately felt my energy level rise as a result. Most of my workouts this summer have been sessions with teammates and friends - nothing too terribly structured. I don't feel burned out at all - it's been kind of like an off-season. At the same time, having a structured training plan also seems to make the summer more relaxed for me - I was never wondering whether I "should" be doing something else, and I knew I had rest days set aside. It's probably my personality that craves the order that training calls for - even if it does seem to make me a bit more high-stung about things like when I get to bed! So I'll keep it fresh by keeping the next goal on the calendar - more on those goals later. As a matter of fact, in the same way, I'm feeling ready.... forthe one-year reunion of Monday morning at 4:30am under Monona Terrace...

So what's been happening here - here's a quick rundown. I rode the "Dairyland Dare" last Saturday, with TNT Tahoe alum Nikki, who invited me to join her, and I'm glad I did. I like to ride on the hills, I think they're a chance to let a good attitude, strong legs, and good mechanics shine - plus climbing is a great time to feel great about being small! Around Madison, it's pretty hilly. In Triathlete magazine, the review of IM Wisconsin said the bike route is very hilly, with some challenging descents; I thought "really? this is just where I ride and play!" Geologically, though, the city of Dodgeville, about 40 minutes southwest of Madison, is a whole different ball game. It's in the "driftless" zone - the glaciers didn't come to Dodgeville like they did to smooth Madison over. So naturally, Dodgeville is a perfect site for a bike race! The Dairyland Dare offered route options of 50k, 100k, 200k, 250k, and 300k (that's over 200 miles!) - we rode the 100k (62 miles). The terrain was really tough stuff - relentless rollers and steep hills both; in some cases the race organizers had written the grade on the pavement.... 16%.... 18%..... 20%. I hear there's a 23% on one of the hills on the 300k course. Yowza. My bike has a "standard" crank and cassette (gear system), so while other riders shift down into super-easy climbing gears, my option is to get up and pull. I recall one sag between a descent and ascent looking down to see my speedometer go immediately from 38 to 4 mph. It's fun to play on the hills. (Here's a link to the course map!) I recommend this ride and hope to do it again!

I have a couple of especially challenging topics that I want to bite into one of these days, but that I think may take pages to muse through. These will be mixed in with some scheduling news for the year ahead! Thanks for following along. Cheers!

Race Report: Green Lake Tri

2010-08-04T08:03:00.004-05:00

Last weekend marked my third annual August trip to Green Lake for the Ripon Medical Center Triathlon. The race itself is in its 13th year, and is one of my favorites: small field but good competition, calm waters on a scenic lake, tough hills on the run and ride. The parents of our friends who live right across the street live in Green Lake, and have generously hosted us each of these visits, making it a whole weekend of playing on the lake. Thanks, Barry and Ann!

So the race... another sunny day perfect for racing! I selected the olympic distance, because although I've had fun and been successful on the sprint course three times this summer, I figured I'd better remind myself what the olympic distance is like before going to Chicago at the end of the month with Team in Training.

Several unusual things happened this time around.

The start of the race was something very special for me. After talking about the topic with my teammates at the Janesville tri, I emailed the race director at Green Lake, volunteering myself to sing the National Anthem to kick off this rac

e. I thought it would be fun, and a little something that I could offer; turns out that it was something very special indeed. I arrived at the site very early, which allowed me to move at an easy pace, and got me a great spot on the rack (at this race, the director leaves the first row completely open - where pro's might go at a big race - for early-birds who want to seize the opportunity!) As I prepared, the sun rose over Green Lake, softened by the dawn's mist and illuminating the water and dewey grass. Athletes arrived and prepared, I greeted several friends who were participating. The intensity grew as the start time approached, and the race directo

r did what he could to make announcements through his megaphone over the din. When the time came, he introduced me and I began to sing ... I felt confident but still a bit warbly for my nerves, and a little funny for standing there singing - in my wetsuit! But the Banner has a special effect - once people hear that it's being sung, quiet spreads quickly until everything falls silent. It's the only moment all morning with stillness and silence, before the frenzy of the race begins. All the athletes of all shapes and sizes and abilities and goals have one minute and fifteen seconds to remember that they all play on the same field, to breathe, to focus. I love to m

entor, to lead people - I encourage them to find calm and joy in racing; I realized that in singing this song, I was offering that not just to my "team", but to everyone that morning. I observed this from somewhere beyond myself, not as a performer, but someone among this unified field, taking in this moment of the morning.

Then as soon as it was over, I ran to the starting line, because my wave was starting in two minutes! Crossed the timing mat, put on my swim cap and ear plugs and goggles... a quick mental checklist - checked my chip (had a quick pee in my wetsuit...)

Jumped in, and immediately fogged up. Being a 1500-meter swim, I just pulled over and cleaned my goggled out, but took a couple minutes to regain my rhythm. Even a short stop was enough to take my mind off swimming, opening the flood gates to other thoughts that are never constructive to moving through the course with one's head underwater. I've found that one good cure for swim-nerves is ... swimming! Even though I advocate for swiming easy, if my nerves act up, I try to swim a bit harder and focus on the swimming itself, which seems to reset me back into my groove - then I slow back down. It seems to work.

Nearing the end of the swim I got into some t

rouble: a shallow rock, probably covered with super-sharp zebra mussels, on which I sliced my left arm with one pull... then my right hand with the next. I was at quite a loss - I wasn't expecting this kind of assault! Each movement of my hand through the water stung like crazy. I guess from there I just made myself deal with it and finish the swim. In T1, would I look for the medical tent? Was there something in my bag that I could wrap myself up with? But I'm raci

ng, it can't be that bad, I want to PR, I'll feel better on the bike, I need to keep moving... these kinds of thoughts. Quick assessments. So I just did my usual T1 and started to ride, and did in fact just drip blood off my bike for a few miles. I was mostly concerned that I would ruin my uniform!

The ride was great - nice combination of rollers, flats, and a couple tough climbs. "Spin to win" is still #1 in my book - sitting up, gearing down, and breathing easy up the big climbs seems to keep me passing other athletes every time, in this case including the second place lady. I got good motivation from a fellow age-grouper who outrode me on the flats, but not on the hills - all through the 24-mile course. By the time I go

t back into T2, the bleeding had mostly stopped and I was ready for the 10k run.

The run was tough; this is where the olympic distance really gets hard, I think. I took it out a bit easy, especially with a big climb over the first mile. Kristin Korevek from Orange Shoe gym - the leading lady - was right behind me so I wanted to stay strong to help motivate her over the first hill. By mile 2 I had started to fade already, which disappointed me - although it was nice for Kristin to come around so we could sa

y hello for a moment... then I could try to keep up with her for a moment... then I could look at the pretty lake all alone! The entire mile 3 was uphill on loose gravel, which was mentally challenging for me. The entire mile 4, though, was downhill on the same and I started to feel better and pick up speed.

An outstanding fan-interaction snapped me out of my 10k daze as I began the climb in the last mile. Some folks were cheering, and some yelled nice things about Team in Training. One guy yelled "hey, nice visor - where'd you get that

?" I was wearing my Ironman visor. Maybe I was looking beat. I immediately believed again, and shouted "I earned it"; immediately felt myself stand back up straight and attack the hill in front of me like I love to do.

It was good. Pulled pork sandwiches afterward, some stretching, some medical attention, and an afternoon of sunshine and waterskiing. Thanks for sharing this day with me!

Essential input from the benevolent observer

2010-07-21T21:48:00.006-05:00

In training and racing, you get to know yourself. You get to know things about your abilities, likes and preferences, strengths and weaknesses. You choose areas to focus on - whether it's celebrating and capitalizing on strengths, or targeting and improving weaknesses. The first step to any of these is identifying the issue, good or bad - and sometimes the issues aren't evident to you. Sometimes things are completely different than what you think! And here's where others enter the picture. Feedback in all sorts of ways is essential to improvement.

Take a day at the pool earlier this season. Coach Rebecca spent a short session with me, and after two lengths of the pool, she noted: "you don't finish your stroke." What? For the past two years, apparently I have taken my arm out of the water for the next stroke before it made it to the end of the first. No wonder why keeping a "high elbow" seemed so easy - I never straightened it out in the first place! She could see it in seconds - but how was I to know? All of a sudden: free speed!

Take an afternoon at Endurance House, back when I first began running, looking for a pair of running shoes. They put me on their treadmill and recorded my running, then played it back to me in slow-motion. The video showed clearly: when my feet strike the ground, I tend to overpronate (the ankle rolls inward as it absorbs the footstrike) which can be hard on the knees and hips. They were able to set me up with shoes that help stabilize this motion, and I could run more comfortably than ever. Some people try to get into running, feel sore, and give up, never knowing what went wrong. How was I to know? The outside view made it clear and made running so much more comfortable.

I had another enlightening moment last Wednesday, during a mid-day massage session. Last month during the Triterium Triathlon I paid a 10-minute visit to a special "free massage" tent set up at the finish area. Too good to be true? Felt that way: I was really impressed with the way Gretchen Peskie, CMT handled my tired body after the race. We hadn't met before, but she was able to offer me some immediate relief that I honestly didn't know was accessible. So I scheduled a full hour-long visit, in the quiet peace of her office - a place more conducive to healing than the finish line at a race. A combination of things have had my shoulders quite stiff for the past several weeks, so I asked her to help me with them. As she worked deep into my muscles, I realized that in that hour, she knew more about me than I did. Through her expertise she knew where to look for knots and bumps and misery that I couldn't identify, even though they were within my own body. Expertise may have discovered them, but something more like compassion - the outside observer's willingness not just to evaluate but to connect and heal - made all the difference in improving them. I floated away from the session feeling liberated. Madison readers, I recommend a visit to http://gretchenpeskiecmt.com/ and her practice.

Now my mind is racing with broader implications: we are outside observers of others and have the opportunity to share our specializations for everyone's benefit. Teachers and mentors have expertise to share with students; farmers have food to share with communities; wealthy people have money to share with poor... perhaps I'll revisit these another time. For this post, though, I'm glad to have a whole stroke pulling me through the water, and glad to have my shoulders back.

On running and gardening

2010-07-18T20:11:00.003-05:00

The summer goes on, and all the summer goodness surrounds us every day. It's warm - hot even - and it's easy to go play outside with shorts on. Bikers and runners of all kinds are out in full force, and everything's green from a consistent mix of warmth, sun, and rain this year. I spent the better part of the weekend around the house, working on the gardens - mostly plants and flowers, with a little bit of fruits and vegetables. We try to buy, maintain, and split or propagate perennials, with a few annuals splashed in for flair. Our projects are generally designed to make a permanent improvement to the yard, making a portion finished, except of course for weeding and diving as the years go on.

Gardening is not terribly dissimilar from triathlon training in some ways, I thought, so as I rest my legs from the day, I'll muse on a couple parts of that thought.

Consistency: a little sustained effort goes a long way. Weeds grow without a dedicated practice of looking for them and pulling them out before their roots get deep. It's the frequent practices that yield good habits. Plus, each time the weeding is finished - the place looks great. Finished product, over and over again!

A Plan: before the spring thaw even starts, decide which seeds to plant. Is it important this year to start some things from seeds at all? It can be tempting to toss a bunch of things into a bed in the spring, but the plan will pay off in the fall: tall ones behind short ones, nice color mixes, nice texture mixes, the right plants for sun and shade. One joy of perennials is that if you keep them up with basic maintenance, they're ready to start themselves up in the spring. Kind of like keeping up healthy eating or keeping off excess weight in the winter.

Playing outside! It can be hot, sunny, rainy, or more. You might head out in any of these, or decide to take the day off - maybe to plan, or rest, or do something else completely different. Can't do the same thing every day, after all! We also don't get to pick the weather. To keep at it, some resilience against (or peace with) the elements is necessary. Sometimes it feels great to sweat.

Heavy Lifting, hard work. Setting out, there can be a lot of work ahead. Maybe a part of the yard has gotten out of control, and it's hard to tell what's even in there. Can't know until you start digging, though! It's hot out there, so don't forget your water and Cytomax, and keep them in the shade. Can't forget to stop to take in some snacks, too, or you'll eventually tire out.

Pruning. This has been one of the hardest skills to master. Not because it's physically hard to whack away at a tree or bush or plant, but because it seems so... I don't know, dangerous. Mom taught me - and I've heard it in gardening classes - you get in there, and chop. Don't be a wimp, be tough. Plan ahead, do it at the right time of year, then - instead of sheepishly trimming around the edges, get into the heart of the thing, and cut it away. It might even look funny this season, but in the next its life will be renewed. (Give blood lately?) Because once you find the part that's finished with its contribution, it's time to make way for the parts that are ready to race for the sunshine.

"There is pain in change, there is pain in no change."

Don't forget your sunscreen.

Recommitment

2010-06-28T07:52:00.002-05:00

About one-third of the way through a Team in Training season comes a time called Recommitment. Anyone can join TNT for only a small registration fee - we welcome participants who might be apprehensive about training or fund raising to come on out, give us a try. Most people, after getting into it, realize that it all is, in fact, possible, and are eager to complete the challenge. Here at recommitment, TNT participants promise to complete their fund raising goals (or cover the difference themselves) and take on a new level of focus on their event.

Last week we had our recommitment day for the Chicago Triathlon. All seven of us signed our names to say "we'll take a stand against blood cancer by each raising at least $3,000 this season!" A cause worthy of a little champagne celebration if you ask me! Thanks to you, the gentle reader who has contributed this year, to that effort. At the same time, the Chicago Triathlon, once a mark on the calendar, starts becoming much more real and close - it's time to get serious about preparation for this thing! I'm here in my cycling clothes, getting ready to ride to work. Why haven't I ridden to work more this summer? Time to recommit to that goal.... and any host of other goals that are calling my name.

Goals are important, goals are frequent - and goals are easy to lose track of in the spin of daily life, or even in the details of their own pursuit. Seems to me that a milestone of "recommitment" can be a refreshing statement on the neverending journey toward anything important. Maybe re-assessment of career progress and professional development. How about a careful read-through of your wedding vows? Or even just a review of those lists of races, weaknesses, or workouts that you made some dark snowy February afternoon, that is sinking somewhere into the pile, calling out for your attention.

Race reports from the start of the season!

2010-06-25T14:08:00.005-05:00

Summertime is here, and the races have begun. It's fun to live in Madison where there are plenty of events going on right at home. Also fun is going out to local races, simply to have a good time, and racing the sprint-distance courses, which only take a little more than an hour: even a hard effort doesn't take all day, and doesn't make you too sore to do anything else for days afterward! No better workout than a race, I say!

My season started just a couple miles from home a

t the Capitol View Triathlon in Middleton, WI. Weather was perfect for racing - a little bit cool, overcast and

hazy, and calm. Only trick was that instead of a Capitol View, we pretty much had no view. The long-course swimmers just went out into oblivion, and back. A couple posts ago I mentioned how some skills, like "feeling comfortable swimming" stay with you - and that was the whole premise of this race for me. I didn't swim very fast, but I stayed composed, even when the bumping and crashing set in. I ran up the beach to transition, and made quick work of finding my bike and getting on the road: the skill of finding one's bike in transition is another one that doesn't require any physical fitness! The bike ride was quite liberating, because I had knocked the magnet off my speedometer somewhere on the way in, and rather than try to fix it, I just removed the whole apparatus, lightened the bike by a couple grams I guess, and rode simply "as fast as I can", which is all I have to offer anyway, right? I was a bit concerned after a while

because I was passing people with blue numbers - they were in the olympic-distance race - and wondering if I had missed a turnaround or gone off course. Then I had a very brief moment of thinking: maybe I'm in the lead! Not so - soon enough the leader came by in the other direction, already turned around and on the way back. Then 2, 3, 4, 5, 6... After a good ride I blasted out on to the run. I think sprint distances are fun because in your mind, you know you can push hard because it will all be over soon! This run was tough: on rolling hills on trails through the woods. I love hills, so when a guy came out of T2 right on my heels, I got some energy by

pushing over the first hill to leave him behind. Midway through the woods, Team in Training was staffing a water stop, and I was elated to see them! In the end, I finished strong and set a new sprint-distance PR. TNT coach Jackie, in her first Olympic-distance race (she's only done Iron-distance races!) took first place.

The following weekend was a fun milestone: the second anniversary of my first-ever triathlon! I competed for the third year in the Verona Triterium triathlon. After doing the Olympic-distance race last year, this year I did the sprint again. Because I'd done the race, and I train on the course often, I felt really calm and at home. It was nice. Again I left off my bike odometer; for the sprint distance I even felt like I was forgetting some things - didn't take any fancy supplies or foods or anything, just the basics. This one's a hilly course, and after a good-enough swim, I was glad to be passed by another age-grouper on the bike who helped inspire me to keep going fast: I kept up with him throughout, then had a pretty blazing T2 to kick off an intense run. There are a couple serious hills on the course that had my body seriously red-lined. I think that over time, not only does the body get faster through training, but faster through more tolerance for (or at least understanding of) pain during the races. Toughness. I like it.

So we're off and running - literally. This is the summer time, the part we've all been waiting for! Thanks for following along.... there's so much more happening than there is time to write about - but I try to pick out the most interesting stuff and share it with you. I biked home from yoga in a downpour through flooded streets; I ran through the arboretum in the night as a storm rolled in over the sunset; I took my new orange shoes out for a spin and loved them; I did a beautiful evening bike ride yesterday... intentionally over as many high, steep hills as possible. And I got a bunch of my friends to sign up for the first-ever Janesville Sprint Triathlon next weekend, so be ready for more!

In the middle of the lake

2010-06-11T14:40:00.002-05:00

I went out for an easy swim today, with my new teammate Naomi. She hasn't been out in the open water for a couple of years and was ready to re-tackle that part of triathlon. A couple weeks ago I did the same with my friend Paul - first time back out in the open water. My friend Laura just posted to her blog about hitting the open water (the ocean!) for the first time this year.

That first unusually warm-ish day in March, I suspect we all race home, liberate our bikes from the trainer in the basement, and without regard for the wet roads, the winter gravel, the wind conditions, or even who's coming with us, we blast out onto the streets for the first ride of the season. I don't seem to hear much apprehension about these rides...

But the water holds its stigma. Water is bad-ass and it knows it. It's able to change phases and turn to solid ice! You can't live in it. If you tire out in it, you don't fall off, you keep going or drown. It can knock down houses. Try to knock down a house with a bike.

One interesting thing about completing the Ironman is that upon finishing, you are declared "an Ironman" - you've done the deed and the title is permanent. (Yes, this is cool). However, it can hold some responsibility, whether real or implied. See, when "you are an Ironman" in the permanent sense [Spanish even has two words for "to be", one for the immediate present and another for an ongoing state: "soy el campeon del mundo!"], people who know seem to somehow believe that you are also prepared to complete an Ironman triathlon, or any combination of its parts (like, say, a marathon) at any given time. This is probably true for some athletes who perpetually train and maintain a super-high level of fitness, but I know that I would need to put in a lot of seriously focused training to do that distance again. As an aside, I quite like this perception, because the title helps keep me keep myself accountable to sticking with my own permanent fitness.

There are some parts to the perpetual "Ironman" title, however, that do indeed persist regardless of current race-readiness - this is where the middle of the lake comes in. Those parts of the race for which I trained mentally and spiritually as much as physically seem to be permanently ready. When I spent an entire year gaining an appreciation for the water, a comfort with this medium, cultivating peace in my mind in the midst of darkness or waves or splashing bubbles, I effectively came to a definitive conclusion about the water. That is, my arms might get tired sooner if they're not exercised as regularly, or I may not be able to swim as far in one go, but I am comfortable in the water. I certainly respect it, but it's a realm I know I can enjoy.

When training schedules are based on goals, and the goals are defined in concepts, the training not only creates strength in a sport, it creates competence and confidence in those concepts. If I focus on training not just "ladder to 200 by 50's", or even "build up to swimming 4000 yd", but "become comfortable in the water", the latter will be the first to resurface the following spring, even as the offseason rust slowly wears off. Let's hit the lake.

Water on the table, sustenance in the hand

2010-05-30T20:26:00.002-05:00

This morning was the annual Madison Marathon and half marathon. It's great to have a solid, well-attended race right at home; not surprising considering Madisonians' general enthusiasm for fitness. Since I spent three weeks out of the country and have really just started gearing up for the season, I decided distance racing wouldn't be prudent, and took the opportunity to help staff the TNT water stop at mile 22 (or mile 9 for the half).

Working to support runners is just as gratifying for me as running the race, and I think it's an important duty for all runners to take on at some point. After all, how much harder - if not impossible for some - would a marathon be without course support? In all the races I'm aware of, even a high-priced, highly-produced race like Ironman, those supporters are volunteers. Some of them are runners, some have never run; some show up a bit indifferent or begrudgingly in the early morning and some are excited to be part of the fun. Not everyone volunteering at the race believes in the race or has trained for and focused on the race as much as the runners do, but they show up nonetheless, and give the racers their full attention. How many times in each of our days do strangers pass by us, and we get annoyed with something they do, or throw some judgement onto them? At the water stop, the volunteers support the racers whether the volunteers race or not - or whether they even care for the concepts of racing.

It's hard work to fill and move and pick up so many cups so quickly, but the time can fly as the stream of runners comes by. I bet many volunteers get excited about being there. I bet many of them get inspired - and I'd venture guess that a day at the races often plants seeds in minds that sprout into a pair of shoes and a jog around the neighborhood. I remember the moment I firmed up my decision to sign myself up: at 11pm standing down by the lake in the dark and rain, course marshaling the 2008 Madison Ironman, and offering all the support one person could give to one other, making their way through the night. Why should it be any different any other day? Why only support a stranger in the night 17 hours a year, when they may be struggling through a much harder journey? In what other ways can I help people in daily life, even with simple encouragement, and even if I do not understand their personal goals?

Picture the aid station table, covered with cups of water and Gatorade. A racer coming up to it would find some sustenance and relief in grabbing one and drinking it. But the water stop does so much more than that: it gives spirit and hope and life back to athletes who are wearing down, beginning to doubt, feeling the pain of a journey too hard to complete alone, and the water itself can't do that. It's the smile at the end of the arm holding out the water, the cowbells, the music, the shouts of encouragement, someone calling out your name and telling you to keep going - even if they just read it on your race bib. It's person after person all along the course singling athletes out and telling them they're doing something important, they're achieving a tremendous goal, the thing they spent so much time working toward is meaningful and they're going to achieve it. Imagine how many countless others in our lives could use this kind of encouragement, even for a single moment. Who might snap out of a down streak and regain the strength to make it to some sort of finish line? This may be the most important lesson I have taken from racing, and I consider it often. As often as possible, I want to be the hand holding out the water.

Back in the swing of things!

2010-05-21T18:16:00.006-05:00

Well, well, well. Happy summer! This is the part we've all been waiting for!

One of the lessons I've taken from racing is: you can't pick the weather on race day. Guess what: you can't pick the weather on any day! So why not find the best in all that Wiscsonsin can give me. Today's gray day was a great chance to get back in the pool, really for the first time this season. I was pleased that what I suspected was true: all the mechanics that I had drilled and drilled last year were still in place - like riding a bike! The trick will be to get the muscles feeling strong again. A winter of yoga practice and somewhat-periodic strength training has helped keep atrophy in check, but it'll be a spring in the water that will bring things back to ideal. (Aside: funny word, "atrophy"... it's the opposite of "a trophy").

I've just returned from three weeks in Italy - touring around the big cities, and finishing with a week on an agriturismo called Cretaiole in the Tuscany countryside. (Perhaps you are one of my traveling companions, dropping in for the first time to find out a little more about what I love the most back home: to you, a special hello and welcome!) There was plenty of rain in Italy, but the hills in Tuscany are somehow so complex that each moment, each weather pattern, each sun attitude bring a completely different beautiful scene, and I couldn't get enough of it. Once I reduce my 1,300 photos from the trip, I'll post some up here to share. Yes, the one backpack I brought on the trip included my running shoes, and I used them a few times during the trip.

Now we're off and running toward the Chicago Triathlon, as a full fundraising participant of Team in Training. I'll be a mentor for this fall's team as well, so I'll have more opportunities to help the other participants with their own fund raising and training. I love getting to know the participants: they come from such varied backgrounds, races, sexes, weights, experience levels... the season ahead has so much promise. Here are the ingredients of a new family, ready to be created. This is also a monumental season for me, because I will obtain the coveted Team in Training Triple Crown: the distinction of completing a TNT marathon, century bike ride, and olympic triathlon. That is one pin I have been dreaming of for years.

DONATE NOW! DONATE NOW! DONATE NOW! DONATE NOW! DONATE NOW!

In a way, this season will be a more more low-key for me. Ironman last year was very organized, very focused, perhaps even a little obsessive. This year will be full of training, but with a little gentler attitude; like the daily cycle of run/bike/swim and rest, the calendar overall needs to wax and wane to stay fresh and fun. My big disconnection to go to Italy was indeed refreshing :) Here we go again -- thanks for joining me for the ride!

Anything but writing

2010-04-03T16:16:00.005-05:00

Happy Easter!

Spring is back - we made it through another winter.

I have a lot of goals for this year, but they're structured a bit differently than last year. Last year, I had training (and TNT fund raising) goals that took me to fun races along the road to Ironman in September - which gave the year a good clarity and direction. The experiences kept saying so much to me that after IM, I decided to write a memoir about the experience. I started writing down the topics I wanted to write about, and the list grew and grew. I copied all the text of this blog into a Word document and found that I had already written 30,000 words. Some friends said they enjoyed my writing. I was encouraged. I'd move some of my blogging effort to memoir-writing effort, and see what I came up with!

Well, the beginning part of the road to this goal has been curiously different than I might expect: I've been doing everything but writing. Here on the blog, there on the memoir, or otherwise. They say that you can't really write about your experience with something until you've made it all the way through that thing - so you can consider it in terms of its whole. I could see that - and indeed I think I've had enough time and digestion on the things I want to write about, but I am continuing to train and mentor with the Team, and as such keep having new experiences. To sit and write is to intentionally put on hold the rest of my life where I do all the things that are worth writing about - and so when push comes to shove and a day gets busy, I find myself doing the things rather than doing the writing. We'll see how I manage wor

king up a plan for this goal!

At the same time, I've dubbed 2010 my "Year of epic travel." First there was the Mardi Gras marathon. A couple weeks later, my friend Chris and I took a trip out to Telluride, CO, to see our friend Gena, who had the guts to move out there to chase her love of the mountains. It was an incredible long spring weekend, blessed with some fresh powder on day one, and high temperatures in the 50's for all three days under crystal clear skies. The mountains are indeed something worth falling in love with.

Another TNT Season is underway, too. I'll be officially training and mentoring again this fall, but love to stay involved throughout the year, and act as a lead mentor for the summer season. It never gets tiring or burdensome to contribute to participants' journeys with this organization. For that matter, when I got back from Mardi Gras, I began to notice that what I am writing about in my memoir may not, in fact, be just my Ironman journey, but my experience with Team in Training and the things it stands for - the things that a season with TNT teaches us about life.

And, of course, there are all the little hobbies of home, which come and go with the seasons and don't wait for any of us. When the temperature warms up, I want to jump on my bike (which I have) but the beds need raking, the garden needs planting, the lawn needs organic gluten fertilization. I love to do all of the above! A few weeks ago we got some new baby chicks, they're cute and sweet. I took them outside for the first time yesterday. The little chicks are a great diversion from everything and therefore a great help for relaxing and being happy.... everything but writing :)

Happy Easter, Happy Spring!

Spring is on the way

2010-03-13T13:43:00.005-06:00

The big melt is underway, spring is getting close. The sun is rising earlier every morning, and evening runs aren't completely dark. We've had lots of dense fog over the past couple weeks as the warmer air moves in over the quickly-melting snow. Several days over 50 and some warm sunshine here and there have encouraged tulips and crocuses to start poking up, and snow drops to even come into bloom. Living in a place with seasons is essential to me, because of what they represent about life and faith. As the seasons return and repeat, they can feel so profoundly different from one another that it almost feels like a new life beginning or ending - this is very refreshing to me. I only have one life to live, but each spring somehow feels like a new beginning, and faith through the long, cold, dark winter always gives way to a fresh start in spring time.

Friday 3/14 was this year's first outdoor bike ride for me. (Last year it was a chance 61-degree day on 3/5). The sun was just barely out, but the air was mild and the path was mostly dry. I joined up with my friend Luray and her brand new bike, and took a welcome-back loop around the Cap City trail: the start of another season. This morning I visited Bike-o-rama and resisted the temptation to purchase a new $5,500 racing bicycle. Phew!

With a new season, there are always new goals, new objectives... this year I'm certainly feeling excited for what lies ahead. On my desk is a single 11x17 piece of paper in a grid of 12 months and 365 days. I've picked some of my favorite races and colored those days in orange. I've picked some fun vacations and colored those in green. In between, there are holidays, commitments, celebrations... and white spaces perfect for getting ready for all of the above. A whole year there on one page. In a way, it goes pretty fast. I find that you if you leave just the right amount of white spaces, though, there's time to slow down and appreciate it all. I think it's going to be a fun year.

As for racing goals? At least right now, I'm focusing on having a good time, making new friends, and helping teammates achieve big fund raising goals and personal finish line successes. I'm sure that as I live the proverbial multisport lifestyle, and keep playing outside, I'll naturally get stronger and quicker along the way. This year's schedule might not look as technical as last year's, because I'm simply not as concerned with the outcomes or standings, more with a summer of fun. Of course, I did promise myself March as an off-season after Mardi Gras, so we'll see how things change as I get back to feeling really "into it."

Here are some photos from the melt around the yard...

Race Report: TNT Inaugural Mardi Gras Marathon!

2010-03-03T09:06:00.018-06:00

This race weekend was the most meaningful Team in Training experience than I’ve had in my three years with the organization. On race weekend it became crystal clear that over the course of four months, our team became a family.

My race was a challenging mental battle between wanting to do something that I believed I could do if I really worked hard during the race – finish in under four hours – and wanting to spend the whole day, running included, with my teammates. For most of the season, my top priority was to be the best mentor I could be, stay healthy, and train smart to become a better runner, simple as that. I ran at whatever pace allowed me to spend time with my teammates, and added some hills and tempo work mid-week to make myself stronger. It wasn’t until our 16-mile training run that I took off with the “speedy” runner group one morning, because I wanted a chance to spend some more time getting to know Mike, Maggie, Gill, and Beth. From there, something clicked and told me wow: you can be a “speedy” runner!

So I came to the race with a pace card drawn up that showed a series of negative splits for a 3:58 finish. I’d spend the weekend with my friends, corral up with my “speedy” gang and get started together, and see how I felt as the race unfolded. I have such mixed emotions about speed that I feel guilty even writing about a time goal – I’m not going to write a race report about all my splits and speeds. To finish a marathon - or half for that matter - is the ultimate accomplishment. I’m not going to boast about my time or compare it to anyone else’s, just like I’m not going to win a marathon. I just want to run with the Team, run for joy, and keep challenging myself because I don’t ever want apathy to replace the excitement I have for the sport. As John Bingham says “the miracle isn’t that I finished, the miracle is that I had the courage to start.”

This season, between the mid-week buddy runs with all sorts of old and new friends, and the weekend Team runs, I discovered that for the first time in my life, I really liked running. Up until now, I had done it for training, for health, for a way to meet people, but always felt like it was beating me up or was too hard to be fun in and of itself; I realized this weekend that that’s changed – it’s become something that I truly enjoy.

New Orleans is a pretty fun place. When you travel somewhere with the primary intention of racing, you don’t necessarily see the city for all it has to offer, you try to stay off your feet, stay off the drinks, and get to bed early. But we were able to tour around a bit and get a taste of this really unique place. The French-influenced architecture is particularly stunning and distinctive, and the food is particularly tasty and carb-loaded!

Our Team in Training inspiration party the night before the race got me charged up and proud as ever to be a member of the team – and proud to be a mentor for the Wisconsin team. About 700 Team members from around the country attended this inaugural event, and raised over $1.1 million! This race would be covered in purple! Fellow mentor Kelli was recognized as the nation’s top fundraiser for the event, and the Wisconsin chapter stood to proudly applaud her accomplishment. Inspirational runner and author John “The Penguin” Bingham addressed the group and offered his unique and important perspectives about running, running slowly, and running fun.
Race morning began with an alarm at 4:00am, and even though I didn’t do a whole lot of it the night before the race, I was glad to discover the alarm clock waking me up from real sleep. Preparing for races does get a bit easier with experience, but carefully checking over everything still takes time, and some nerves. The more tricks you know for race prep, though, the easier things are on race morning – like how to wear warm clothes and then send them in gear bags to the finish line, and stay warm in throw-away trash bags up until the gun goes off. All the Team gathered in the Sheraton lobby, and headed out for the most fun walk to a starting line I’ve ever had – we “second lined” it. Like in a New Orleans-style funeral procession, a brass band led the way down the streets and all 700 of us followed along, waving purple handkerchiefs and the like. Other racers looked down from their hotel rooms as we passed, and waved us on. Timing was perfect as we walked (a mile) to the starting line, used the bathrooms, dropped off our gear bags, and made our way to the corrals. No unbearable periods of waiting, no shivering in the cold.

Over 15,000 runners participated in the race (I’ve also heard over 18,000), between the half and full marathons, and were divided into 20 starting line corrals. Gill, Beth, Rebecca, Maggie, my roommate Tyler, and I were all together in corral 10; Coach Art explained that he would start in the “OK Corral.” As we began moving forward, we laughed about the super-hardcore announcer who sounded straight out of a monster truck rally. We went nuts when he exclaimed “THIS IS NOT A DRILL!”

The race directors did a really nice job of blending the half and full marathons: runners in each race were intermixed in the corrals, and side-by-side on several of the streets, separated by cones or boulevard medians. The two races split and re-connected through the day, so runners in each race would see runners in the other race at various mile markers, for a better chance to see friends in the other race. Jo was able to spot me once and connect.

I was so glad to start the race with my running buddies from the season. We helped each other hang on to the reigns as we got going gently but steadily. I had secretly shared my race pace plan with Gill the night before but she wasn’t sure it was what she wanted from the day – and I certainly didn’t want to put any stress on her. The first five miles, the five of us ran together through some tough neighborhoods in the southern part of the city – Cat later said she saw one house still bearing a spray-painted “1 dead in attic” on the wall. However, mixed in with delapidation were beautifully-maintained homes; both of these types had residents in the windows and on the porches waving and shouting encouragement.

Some of the roads were rough, but with a little attention none of them were harder to manage than the snow we were used to. It’s always nice on race day when roads are completely closed and runners can use either side of the road’s crown – it’s easier on the legs than always running on one slope. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many police officers on a race course – not only were there a lot of street crossings, but I think the race organizers also wanted to be absolutely sure there would be no problems in this dangerous city on their big inaugural day.

At mile 5, I was feeling good. The pace was steady and I was feeling healthy and positive. The sun had come up and the air was warming; it feels so good to go from training in the snow to racing in shorts and a tank top. All five of us were together, and Gill made a stop to remove her base layer shirt. We were getting ready to make a turn and run through Audobon park, and I stopped for some Cytomax to wait for the rest. I was right on pace for my goal time, but it was time to make the first negative split, and the clock was ticking as I waited. This was my day, I had to go for it. When the others came out of the water stop, I asked Gill if she wanted to kick it up a notch – she didn’t. I hated to leave them, but I explained: I had to try something crazy. And so began a series of twenty 8:50 miles and the hardest marathon I think I could have set out for myself.

Audobon park was lovely. Most of the neighborhoods we ran through were lovely – palm and shady oak trees and huge, old, beautiful homes. Residents who had been woken up by all the commotion were outside and supporting us – I didn’t hear an unkind word all day. The Saints’ recent victory had clearly given the city a significant morale boost; Saints stuff and “who dat” were everywhere. Mile 9 took us down St. Charles Avenue straight back towards downtown, with the skyline in front of us. Around mile 11 we turned onto Decatur St. which took us right into the French Quarter – the same street we had walked the day before as a Team to have mufaletta sandwiches for lunch the day before.

Miles 12, 13, and 14 went down Esplanade Ave., from the French Quarter to the huge City Park in the northern part of the city. On the other side of the street, I could hear half-marathoners’ excited tales of reaching double-digit miles, and I felt good about those achievements. It was in these miles, though, that I started really noticing just how fast I had decided to run. I continued to eat every 30 or 45 minutes for energy, and take on Cytomax at the water stations; the day was getting hot and I didn’t want to cramp so I stayed clear of the water and stuck with sports drinks. Should I take salt? My knees and hips were hurting more than they had in the last couple months – maybe from too much walking the day before? – so I had a few ibuprofen along the way, too. My mind had already started playing the classic games: can I keep this up, will I make it? Knowing ahead of time that the mind will do such things makes them slightly more manageable. I might describe this race as a very fine line between my time goal and complete disaster, with only my mental stamina between the two. This is what makes the marathon magical.

At mile 16, we turned north along the edge of City Park, into a head wind. The sun was hot so the wind was nice and cool, but added some unwelcome resistance. Since increasing my pace at mile 5, I was gradually moving up through the field the whole day. I encouraged everyone in purple I saw, and I gave some shouts out to the fast runners who went flying by in the other direction at their mile 24, heading towards times like 3:00. Mile 16 is also where I came up on my roommate Tyler, who was running slowly but not looking too good. A great guy and good teammate, I had a fun time getting to know Tyler over the weekend. I bit my tongue the night before when he had said he hoped to run this marathon – his first – in four hours, and as he said when I saw him and again later, he started too fast. I also learned that he didn’t really eat anything, so he was hurting. I encouraged him a bit and he said he wanted to run with me, which I would have enjoyed, but I was locked into my pace and he couldn’t hang.

At mile 17, I decided to take a sort of half-time break and recompose myself. I grabbed some Cytomax and put some ice in my hat, and stopped into a porta potty (the first time I only made one bathroom break during a marathon!) It was nice to stand still and breathe for just a minute. Outside, a good band was rocking out and I was getting jazzed back up. I was refreshed and ready to rock n roll! It’s amazing what a minute of good relaxation can do in the overall scheme of things.

At mile 17.5, I was excited to see that the next purple shirt up ahead came into focus as Mike! My first thought was how excited I was to see a fellow running buddy, then my second thought was a jovial “Mike you bastard, I’ll outrun you yet!” He had just started a walk interval (he does 8-2 run-walk, and successfully) and I asked him if he’d run a minute with me. I was sad to hear him decline, saying that he was hurting – Mike is a strong runner and I felt bad that he wasn’t feeling good. I hoped he would have a second wind like he often does and get to feeling better again; I tried to encourage him a bit, shouted “go team” and went on.

I went on indeed – into a few really tough miles. Out at this edge of the course there were no bands, and almost no spectators. I was in the “bite me” zone – at least I could recognize it. I pulled my hat down a bit and, since the pavement was smooth, closed my eyes and tried to focus on relaxing, breathing, and zoning out for a bit – maybe then I’d snap back to life and it would be a mile later! Same deal at mile 19, but there were some cool birds and nice houses along the Bayou St. John and I focused on them. Thank goodness, there waited Gateway chapter coach Rudy, who I had never met before, but who started running with me and raised me up out of my slump. I told him how glad I was to see him, told him about my goal, and asked him to help me keep the faith – he helped me keep my pace up and talked with me about our Teams. He was right there when I needed him the most, and I told him that at the end of the day when we walked home together.

Miles 20 and 21 were an out and back, and sharp swings between doubt and confidence. I was a minute ahead of my goal and still ticking, but hurting. Fortunately, I could see one after another purple shirt going by in the other direction, and I shouted “Go Team!” to each of them. Most seemed to snap out of a similar funk and respond. I saw Mike, who shouted “Dano, you’re a madman!” – which was the best thing he could possibly have said to me. Then I saw Rebecca, Gill, and Maggie and was enthused to see them together and still making great progress. I saw Tyler again and was glad he was still at it too.

I guess at mile 22 I was confident that I could keep hanging on, but I was deep into the pain cave. At mile 23 I grabbed some CytoMax, walked to drink it, and had a pretty tough time getting going again. I tried to make some remarks to the runners around me, and got the sense that they might have wanted to talk, too, if we weren’t all in such a tough spot. I though about Coach Rudy and thought how cool it would be to see Coach… Art! There he was! With him at my side, all of a sudden I was an Olympian, a world-record holder, a Kenyan! The nerve – he started to videotape me, which was pretty fun, until I spontaneously burst into tears. Go figure. The marathon takes you to your edge in many respects, where you are very fragile. Art said he’d run with me as long as I wanted, which was a great assurance, but didn’t feel fair to the others. We made it to one turn where I thought he’d leave, but he didn’t – that was really good. He said he’d run me all the way to the finish if I wanted, and we talked about the race so far, and how I was doing. Overall, I was super tired, but good. We both shouted “Go Team!” to the runners heading the other direction. Suddenly we saw Cat headed the other direction, and Art turned to go with her; she was at mile 16 and I was glad he could now go pick her up for a bit. I was headed for the finish. I saw Dan Eccles and had the presence of mind to shout “congratulations” – Dan was wearing his medal already and I learned later that he met his goal of qualifying for Boston with a 3:14! Near him were James, James’ mom, and little Christopher, who were also going crazy. As I neared the finish line, the fans were getting denser. In numbers, that is.

Mile 25 was weird. The course turned to go into the center of the park, but this mile was forgotten by all fans, bands, and coaches. It was a silent, infinite, miserable wasteland. I felt like I was running much slower all of a sudden but told myself it was OK, just as long as I kept running. My arms were exhausted. There was an extra out and back that I couldn’t see the end of, and I was worried about how much farther we would have to go! Silly thought, looking back on it, since the race is always 26.2 miles long. There didn’t even seem to be a lot of other runners around, just hot sun, bright concrete, burning legs, and people walking around.

Just around the monument, finally, was the 26-mile banner. I’ve made it! I started to feel pretty good, then the fans picked up again, then I started to feel great, then I saw the finish chute, and I was a new man. I slowed down, straightened up my outfit and number, turned back to let any sprinting people go past (one did), and stood up tall into my best form to salute the crowd and – hands up – finish photo! All day I had wanted to enjoy the day, but also be finished, and now I couldn’t believe that I was, and that I had made my goal to boot. I was tougher than the marathon today, I had put in the hard work all day and all season and earned the reward, and took a moment in the quiet to allow a few tears to seal the deal. There’s no reason to hold back emotions that are real and true.

From there, it was gently stretching, slowly starting to eat again, walking funny, and feeling great. I checked in at the TNT tent and received the coveted 26.2 pin, and then did the only thing that I could possibly do next: go back to the finish chute and cheer in my teammates. I could hear Sister Hazel (my favorite band) playing on the main stage, but wanted even more to see my friends finish. Gill, Mike, Rebecca, Maggie – I was so happy for each of them. Even better, though, they hung around the TNT tent in the sun, enjoying the day. As others watched the concert and headed home, Wisconsin stayed. Cat and Suzi came in. Beth, Roz, Bri. Marathon finishers! The end of the race was getting nearer, and Wisconsin was still hanging around – celebrating, taking photos, and being together. We just had Nina on the course, this season’s walker, and we all decided to go back out to the finish line and wait for her.

As the end of the race drew near, announcer John Bingham and TNT director Jennifer Grandy opened the gates and invited the few of us remaining to form a human receiving chute at the finish line for all the remaining participants. One by one, they came walking or running in, and we gave them each a hero’s welcome. Nina arrived with Art, and we gave her her royal celebration. We learned that there was one more TNT participant on the course, and after a long pause looking anxiously down 100 yards of silent finish chute, in an incredible moment, she appeared. Around her was a purple and green second line of every coach and staff member who were out on the course, bringing her in. I had never before stayed at a race until the last person crossed the line, but today for me and for Team Wisconsin, we knew it was the only thing in the world that we needed to do in those moments. “Ohana means family, and family means no one gets left behind or forgotten.” Team in Training continues to amaze me; it totally changes lives. We did a great thing this weekend.

Mardi Gras is coming!

2010-02-04T20:32:00.002-06:00

I am getting pumped up!

It feels like race day is the day after tomorrow - that's the Team's big 20-mile run as training peaks before the Mardi Gras marathon. I think my excitement for the wintry 20-miler is indicative of my extreme excitement for the big day in New Orleans on February 28th.
I always pretty much enjoyed running. I mean, on days when I got out there and got into it, it was pretty fun. Usually I would be nervous that something would start to hurt and take a long time to heal, and for a period of time, I probably made certain joints hurt just by thinking enough about them maybe starting to hurt. This season, though, it's been different.
Running more has made me enjoy running more, has made me a better runner, and has seemed to keep any feelings of injury at bay! Why? I'm not sure. I continue to be moderate, I think that's key to successful injury-free training, but I've pushed myself. A few tougher, faster, hillier, longer workouts in the mix makes muscles stronger, which stabilizes joints, and makes them less injury-prone, how about that?

On the trail tonight, spending 4 miles reconnecting with my tri friend Sophie from the summer squad, I also got to thinking - sometimes at this point in the winter, the winter starts getting unbearable. Like spring will never come and the cold and darkness just drags on and on. Not so this year! With a regular regimen of working out, sometimes in the dark and sometimes in the light, winter has been pretty comfortable. Tonight 30 degrees felt mild - and if it's going to stay 30 for the next month, well, that's not so bad! There's a lot to do in the house and garden come spring time, and while this task master loves those days of cleaning and getting the new outdoor time underway, freshening up life overall, January and February have been a soothing groove for the time being. Prana, breathing slowly and steadily in an out. On a steady course up until Mardi Gras. Then it's all gonna bust loose.

Dano, where you been?

2010-01-17T16:11:00.002-06:00

Hello blogosphere. Seems that I've followed the common blog-about-a-big-event-then-after-the-event-disappear-from-blogging path this fall. I'd like to get back on the wagon, but now in a couple of different ways. First, moving forward - I'm training and racing these days, yes. Ran on Thanksgiving Morning, and on New Year's day; did a fun indoor triathlon on Friday, and felt great completing a 16-mile training run on Saturday with the Team. We're 6 weeks away from the Mardi Gras Marathon in New Orleans, and I'm really looking forward to it! Just this morning, two of my teammates completed their races at P.F. Chang's in Phoenix - congratulations!
But also brewing since last I've posted is another idea, looking back a bit. My 2009 season was a lot of fun, and meant a lot to me. Along with a lot of training, I did a lot of thinking - some of which I shared with you here. Well, recently instead of typing it into the interweb, I've been typing it into a memoir, to bring some things together. I'm enjoying it, and look forward to what comes out the other end. Something worth publishing? Who knows - but it's something I'll be sure to share with you.
Loving the winter in Madison.
Cheers!
Dano

Race report: Indy Monumental Half Marathon

2009-11-11T08:09:00.007-06:00

We were getting ready for a team run when Kerry said "Dano, do you want to run the Indianapolis marathon with me in November?", so I said "sure!"
There's a funny sensation, once you finish an Ironman, that you can do anything. It's one of the great joys of completing the thing, I'm sure, the confidence and empowerment that comes with a long, long journey and crossing that line. Unfortunately, there is a certain element of "training" that goes into all these endurance events, which the body requires in order to be able to do them.... I finished IM after training long, and training smart - with careful build ups and lots of rest. So Indy - I had 5 weeks to go, and had been moving well since September, so I set up a mini-training plan where I'd build up quickly through 10, 14, 18 miles, then taper, then run! If each run worked, I'd go on to the next. On the 14 day, my legs said 'nope', so I made the switch to the half-marathon instead. No sweat.
Word got around, and by the time race day came there were six of us in two cars, making a road trip to Indy for a fun weekend. Coach Art had been training all year with the TNT teams, but hadn't had the chance to actually run a marathon all the while, and was looking to re-qualify for Boston. Coach Ronnie is gradually working his way toward marathons in all 50 states, and needed Indiana. Mike, I suspect, just loves to run and probably was looking for a weekend out of the house! Kerry had spent the last half year or so training for the San Francisco marathon, successfully finished it and didn't want to stop there, since she was trained! Maren, Kerry's roommate, also finished San Fran, but this time was happy to act as our #1 fan (are you ranking the "smartest" in the group?!)
Race day: this was a really interesting mental race for me. It wasn't a high priority - I was looking forward to it, but wasn't vigorously training, or visualizing, or really all into it. But when I got to the expo, I got to feeling the race-weekend vibes. I laid out my gear - not with the same worried meticulousness of a first-time half-marathoner like two years ago, but now with an organized feeling of a more seasoned runner. I was up most of the night, feeling calm, but turning over and over. Yep, race weekend! And race morning, we got up early, made our way in to town, and headed to the starting line! There were about 7,000 runners and we happened to queue up next to the six TNT'ers from the local Indy chapter! Great to meet them and talk with them about their training for Disney in January.
The gun went off and the field began slowly moving forward. Unbelievable day for November: clear blue sky and a high over 60 degrees, perfect for shorts and a T shirt. My plan was to run with Kerry, just like she had originally asked me to, but take the split to the half-marathon course after 10k. We had a great hour together, catching up and talking about racing and everything. We saw Maren a couple times going nuts on the sidelines, too. I tried to say some inspirational words to Kerry, at her request, before we split, and then she went off to do the hard work while I headed for home, a shower, and back to my training for my next A-race in February! It was a great run together, and we had held a comfortable 10-minute pace through 10k, clocking in at 1:02.
What happened next was an interesting mental game. I was solo, feeling fresh with 6.9 miles to go, and a half-marathon PR of 1:58 in my books. My mind was spinning.... that's 56 minutes left to go 7 miles. 56 / 7 = 8. I had been going 10. I can either just keep running normally and miss the PR, or try to run really fast and risk blowing up and missing the PR - but also risk breaking it. So I kicked up my knees and thought what the heck, let's try the second half at 10k race-pace and see if I can hang on! First mile, 8. Second mile, 8. Third mile, 8. This was no longer a leisurely run, but I told myself: pretend like you're finishing a full marathon! There was the thrill of running past everyone else, since I was cruising up from the 10-minute bunch. There was the 10-mile marker, where I knew I could keep up a 7:30 pace for 5k! And then there was the finish line, with a 1:55 and a new PR. Mike had finished just a couple minutes before, showing great prowess with the run-walk method.So I stretched out and showered off and headed back for the marathon finish. Art needed a 3:35:39 to qualify for Boston - and he brought it in at 3:35:32. Ronnie, who had been laying on the floor and barely able to move the day before because of a sore back, was about a minute behind Art, and being an age group older, also qualified for Boston! Kerry maintained pace the whole way and came in with a new PR of 4:31. Wow - it was success all around!
Afterward, Art showed us the way to a highly-recommended local deli called Shapiro's, where we replenished more than the number of calories burned in the ultimate human endurance test. Delicious!
Then we drove back to Madison; I stayed in Chicago to meet up with Jenn and some friends, and by now, everyone is pretty much back to normal and thinking about which one to do next!

Walk of shame / Run to glory

2009-11-01T19:14:00.005-06:00

Happy Halloween!

7:30 on Sunday evening, and I'm sitting here in the standard-time darkness drinking the last pumpkin ale, having just eaten the last candy, and looking for the mood to write. The weather this weekend was super mild, and even warm, so I spent a lot of time on my feet putting the yard to bed. It's funny how each year you work on shutting things down, and you just keep working until it snows, then you're done. This year, it's been 60 and sunny, and I've practically finished everything. I may have shed a little tear as I sponge-bathed my now-1-year-old tri bike in the garage before taking it back to the trainer in the basement. Thanks, Chris, for that chilly but excellent ride Wednesday morning. It was one hell of a year out on the road.

Last night was Halloween, and I held down the fort handing out candy to neighborhood trick-or-treaters. I have gained a bit of a reputation for creatively lighting my house - this year I added a couple torches to my usual black-light setup. I used the classic standby Phantom costume by simply adding a mask to my tux.

Halloween is a huge night in Madison. Tens of thousands of people go downtown and party at "Freak Fest"; there are big name bands, the headliner starts at midnight. This weekend my lifestyle changes were especially apparent. I invited some of my runner-friends over to chill for a couple hours so that we'd be able to have a few Halloween festivities, but not have to go out so darn late to party! I was glad to be able to connect with a few people who understood... Lynn came over dressed as - yep, a marathon finisher. Very cool considering she just finished her first full marathon, so I know the feeling of secretly wanting to put on all the finisher's regalia again and go show it off!

This morning was sunny and quiet as I drove to church. The sight I saw crossing campus is common each week, but today stood out more to me. Here and there the proverbial "walk of shame" - evidenced on the morning after Halloween by, say, white fairy robes under a winter coat, or naughty-anything's fishnets and boots. Today there were also little groups of people carrying pillows, and while not in costume per se anymore, were certainly not wearing "normal" clothes. Maybe making their way back home for some legitimate rest. (I can't say I don't know exactly how that feels.)
And in the same hour, on the same sidewalk, there goes the same yellow '09 shirt that Lynn wore last night - Milwaukee marathon finisher. The runners are up to seize their days! The quiet stillness of the morning is theirs to enjoy because they dared to give up the party for the glory.

I'm not suggesting anyone's better than another, or that one lives their life more fully than the other, or even that the two are mutually exclusive. But the two next to each other were striking to me today, and felt affirming that I spent Halloween relating with early-rising runners. I like where I am now, I like the consistency of my energy levels, and while sometimes I wonder what I let go when I go to bed at a kid's bed time, I like getting stronger because I make rest a priority. We had a good time, and I don't need to spend the next three days getting back on schedule! Happy Halloween!

Race Report: Fall 15k

2009-10-26T18:21:00.005-05:00

The UW running club's Fall 15k is run every October, and benefits the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Ronnie Carda, who's in charge of the race, is on the UW faculty and is a former TNT coach, so his connections are deep and the Team always plays an important role in putting on the event. This year we were graced with blue skies and nearly 60 degrees under brilliantly-colored trees.

I think there were 260 runners... there's a drastic difference between a race like this one and the big races. A factor of 200, for example! Ronnie didn't even have a megaphone, he just stood on the table and told us all it was time to go to the starting line, which was chalked in the parking lot. At race start time, he shouted "ready, set ... BANG!" and we were off.

One of the great joys of being a TNT mentor is watching, over the course of a few months, individuals discover their own strengths and undergo that mysterious and empowering change to "athlete." It's especially exciting to be part of someone's first race, and a few of the Team were doing just that. Congratulations every one of you for your great accomplishments! Here are a few of them in this photo. (In a little race like this, too, it's easy to forget that much of the field is made up of running-club and cross-country-types who seem to run everywhere at 6:30 per mile, compared to even an intermediate-level marathoner who sees no need to run that fast!)

So I took it out slowly to find my legs - hadn't raced in a while, and spent most of Saturday mowing and raking and actually had some pretty tight spots going *into* the day. And, I've never raced a 15k. Note: 15k is significantly farther than 10k. After about a mile, I connected with teammate Gill (in pink), who was running with her friend Laura. By the time we finished exchanging some introductions, Laura and I had fallen into pretty much an ideal pace and hung together for most of the race. The partnership was especially valuable up the rollers, which came and went throughout the entire course. Over the course of an hour, we shared some insights into medicine, State service, and the institution of Education. What a great sport to be able to make friends this way! I know why *I* don't use an iPod ...

All in all, I wasn't in great shape but left it all out on the road over the course of 75 minutes and am perfectly happy with the way things turned out: made new friends and got to watch other new friends finish their first race. Perfect!

Time to take a few days off running ... yoga tonight, maybe a spin tomorrow if it gets warm and dry, maybe a short swim Wednesday. Not to mention sending out those end-of-season thank-you notes to all my TNT supporters!

On the Run again

2009-10-21T21:51:00.003-05:00

Tonight was the fundraising clinic for the new winter Team in Training group. Perhaps the biggest winter group the Madison chapter has ever had, and full of enthusiasm, desire to train, and ability to fundraise. I gave out a bunch of business cards as illustrations for how handy a business card can be to note one's fundraising website in conversation, and offered this blog as an example of how one might go about blogging the journey to race day.

So after my few weeks' hiatus from substantial online comment, I suppose this is a very good time to get back into the groove. After all, there is plenty to talk about. I signed up to run the Mardi Gras marathon in New Orleans on February 28th with Team in Training! This winter, once unscheduled and opportune for lethargy now has an important goal to keep me moving until next summer's tri season comes around again. (Although I did just locate some upcoming indoor tri's!)

So I'm finding my legs again, and loving it. It's a joy to have a team to run with, especially when the darkness sets in early and the temperatures get colder. We've been supplementing our Saturday team runs with Tuesday and Wednesday runs, which have been both popular and super-fun. My upcoming races are the UW Running club's fall 15k this Sunday, then the Indianapolis Monumental half-marathon on 11/7, then the nearly-epic Berbee Derby turkey trot on Thanksgiving morning. So yep, there's plenty to talk about!

Here's to the winter season!

What's next?

2009-10-15T20:12:00.002-05:00

Hello.
In one way it seems like the Ironman was years ago. Amazing how it sat perched at the very end of summer, which gave way to fall seemingly the next week.
In another way it was just last night, as soon as I start to think about it, it's all right there.

Was it all worth it? And then some.
Will I do it again? Absolutely.

What will I do next? I'll continue to train, continue to race. I've already begun a new winter season with 18 exceptional new Team in Training athletes. And I'll continue to write. The more I consider Ironman - as an entire season and way of thinking - the more I feel I can say about it and the more it fits into how I consider my life. There's enough material in my head for a book. Why not just write it?