2017... a year to get re-introduced to triathlon

I did two triathlons this year.  The first was the last one before David headed off to college; it was the Mid-summer triathlon at Blue Lake.  In years past, I did this race, and it was a good gauge to see how my fitness had progressed over the racing season.  This year, it was a gauge as to whether I had any race fitness at all.

  

Notice the difference in the number of people around David vs. the number of people around me.  Guess that's what happens when you are on the sharp end of the race rather than in the washing machine.

It was a fantastic race from the standpoint of spending a last weekend with my college-bound son.  David had a great swim, exiting in the top 3 (and even getting some video footage from the drone on the website).  My swim was typical:  mid-pack.  However, the great part of this particular race is that the waves make my swim much less exciting, as there is less jostling in the old-man wave.  I jokingly refer to it as the "and over" wave, as it is usually announced as, "xx years and over."  I had a good bike, not great, as I was not in very good shape.  As I started my run out of the park, I saw David approaching.  We exchanged not very high 5's and I started to do the calculations in my head.  I realized that, given the time difference between waves, and the location of where our paths crossed that this might be the race that David finally would beat me.  As I finished, I noted my finish time and asked David what his time was.  He thought that his time was about a minute faster than mine, and I agreed with him.  Well... when the times came up on the computer, I had beaten him... by 12 seconds!  So, I still had the family title for 1 more year.  We both won our respective age groups.

Life is too short to run in bad shoes

Some people are clothes horses... I like running shoes.  Over the years, I have gotten slower and older.  Because of this, I think, I have become pickier on my running shoes.  I used to be able to run in any shoe and not notice much of a difference.  Now, I seem to notice everything.  Most notably, I can really tell the difference between a flexible shoe and one that is not as flexible.  Actually, the less flexible shoes make me feel as if I'm running on bricks.  Maybe it's the lack of elastic recoil that has gradually crept into my tendons and maybe it's the compression in my joint spaces and disk spaces.  Whatever the case, it's pretty noticeable, at least subjectively.  Case in point:  my current ASICS shoes. I have been using Newtons for the past several years, and they are pretty flexible, which I like. Overall, Newtons have become my favorite brand of shoe, and specifically, the lightweight training models.  However, I have alternated running shoes for a number of years; it was a practice I started when I was working at a running shoe store, and I have continued it.  The theory is that alternating shoes:  1)  helps the shoes last longer as the EVA (midsole) has a chance to recover; 2)  decreases injuries as it subtly changes your wear pattern and foot strike (as long as the two shoes are different).  I have not idea whether these are true, but I'm a creature of habit.

Because Newtons are unique in their characteristics, I have tried alternating them with a more conventional shoe.  I have tried various different shoes from different manufacturers with varying amounts of success.  Recently, I tried the ASICS Super J-33's and they were pretty good.  I decided to try the ASICS GT-1000 when the J-33's wore out.  Why?  Oh, something different and I'm cheap (I found the GT-1000's on sale).

Well, after having run in them for 100+ miles, I'm ready to condemn them to the lawnmower shoe pile.  I don't know that I have had one good run in them.  By good, I just mean one in which I don't feel like I'm plodding along.  Although I do plod now, I'm not ready to admit it.  And I know that running in the ASICS, I am usually 20-30 sec/mile slower in them than the Newtons.  And it's not a comfortable, spongy 20-30 sec/mile slower feeling.  More, it's a feeling that I'm slapping the ground in a brick that has been tied onto my feet.

So, I'm moving on from the GT-1000's.  I have squirreled away a pair of J-33's that I'm going to start alternating with my current Newtons.  They are definitely lighter and much more flexible than the GT-1000's, so I'm hoping that things will feel better, and that running on bricks will be a distant memory.

Don't get old!

I was young once.  Back when I was young, I could run without injuring myself.  And I could run faster.  But that was then, and this is now.  Now, I can barely get out of bed without doing something to my body.  I was JRA last week, not even going very fast, and started to feel some discomfort in my right calf.  It was nothing of any consequence, and I continued with my run.  By the time I finished my run, it was a bit tight.  I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and took a few days off from running.  I swam and lifted over the weekend, and my leg felt reasonably good, and my calf had loosened up.

I went for a run two days ago, again just out for a easy trot after work.  My right calf again started to tighten up.  By the time I finished, it was quite tight and sore.  I've decided to take a little time off of running, probably a week or so, to see if it will calm down.

It's pretty annoying, really.  Do a hard workout?  It's going to take a couple more days to recover than before.  Turn and try to reach out to grab something?  I might pull a muscle (or two).  Turn too quickly?  I might lose my balance and fall over.  And why are my arms shorter than before?  I can't see things in the distance, and I can't see things close up.

When I turned 30, I noticed that, almost to the day, it was taking me a day longer to recover from a hard workout or race.  When I turned 40, I noticed that it didn't take me any longer to recover from a race, but I was certainly slower.  And when I turned 50, I just became slow, no longer able to even move very fast at all.  When you read about training philosophy, invariably the one concept that comes out is that you want to avoid the ''gray zone,'' the zone that is too hard to be easy and too easy to be hard.  Well, I can tell you personally that the gray zone is pretty much where I find myself most days.  I'm working, but not hard enough (and certainly not fast enough), and it's definitely not easy.

I posed a question to my best friend recently.  He has been a runner for as long as I have, and we used to run together regularly.  Now, we both have slowed down.  My question was, "If we have been running for so long (30+ years), why is it not getting any easier?  You would think that, after 30+ years, we would have gotten the hang of this whole running thing."  Of course, he had no real answer for this, and just laughed at the futility of the pursuit.

A month or so ago, I was swimming a set of 100 IM's.  Somewhere in the midst of it, I realized that my 17 year-old son can swim a 200 nearly as fast as I can swim a 100.  When I told him that, his comment was, "Are you really that slow?  I think I can dog paddle that fast."  Ah, youth.

It was a short season, Charlie Brown

If you notice, one of the most recent entries was about the first race of the season.  And this entry is about the last race of the season.  No, you didn't miss any in-between races... there weren't any.  My season consisted of a grand total of two sprint triathlons.  The only year that I had less races was the year that I broke my collarbone during the first race of the season.  The funny thing is that, while I missed the adrenaline rush that comes with a race and the camaraderie of seeing with and racing against friends, I didn't really miss much else.  I had a great summer, watching a lot of water polo and cheering on my boys, first in Southern California, and then in Hawaii.  I also had fun vacationing in those places, too.  But enough about that.  This entry is about Bonney Lake.

I have raced at Bonney Lake every year except 2011 when I was broken.  It is always fun, and I always appreciate Rory and Deanna Muller putting on a nice race.  I think back nearly 10 years when I first them at the 5-Mile Lake Triathlon.  Boy, have things changed! (for the better)

This year's Bonney Lake race was no exception.  I traveled to the race with Bruce and Terry.  Bruce was there to defend his title and go for a 4-peat, and Terry got shamed into racing by Karen.  It was a beautiful morning when we arrived, much different from last year when it was a rainstorm.  Getting things set up in the sunshine is always much easier than in the rain.  I saw Rory just after I picked up my race packet.  I apologized in advance that I would be leaving right after the race, so that I could watch David at the first water polo tournament of the year.  It's too bad that the race was a week later than usual, since Labor Day was a week later.  I'm sure David would have liked to race.  

Rory informed me that they had changed the run course from the previously hilly course to a pancake -flat course that ran alongside the lake's edge.  While I am not a masochist, I know that hilly courses favor me and I voiced my displeasure to him, jokingly of course.  Secretly, I knew that, given my lack of fitness, a flat course was just fine for me on this day. 

 

After getting my transition site in order, I went for a jog along the run course.  Yup, it was flat.  It was definitely more scenic than the previous run course, as it followed the lake for the most part.

 

I then jogged back and, went to watch the start of the Olympic distance race.  I walked out onto the dock and met up with Chris Blair, someone whom I have known and raced against for 15+ years.  He had won most of the previous Bonney Lake Olympic races, and I was surprised that he was not racing.  He told me that it was a lack of fitness that kept him off the start line this year; I laughed and told him that my lack of fitness wasn't going to keep me from racing, so it shouldn't have stopped him.  After heading back to Transition and getting my wetsuit on with help from Bruce, we both headed down to the start.  We met Karen, Lucas, and Lauren on the walk down, and I said hello to all of them, leaving Bruce to his family.  After warming up in the surprisingly cold and murky water, I made the decision to start on the far right, next to the dock.  I have always started on the far left for this race, figuring that I would be left alone and not get mauled, but this never seems to work.  As it gets nearer and nearer to the race start, people have always kept moving over further and further left, so I end up in the middle.  I decided to try something different, starting next to the dock.  I had visions of "riding the flume" at Wildflower.

 

I said good luck to Bruce, headed off towards the dock and waited.  The gun went off, and I started swimming.  Wheeeee!  While not quite riding the flume, I was able to swim without being in the washing machine.  It was a great swim, other than the fact that I wasn't in very good swim shape.  As I neared the turnaround, I saw the leaders making the turn.  This was a bit of a shock, because they are usually long gone, and I'm fighting for position at that point.  I made the turn and headed for home.  When I first started doing triathlons, I would oftentimes find a bit of clear water about 3/4 of the way back on some of the races.  Knowing my swimming proficiency, my initial thought was always, "Am I in last?  Is everyone in front of me?"  While this always turned out to be an irrational thought, it did always cross my mind.  This time, though, I saw a few people to the side of me, so I knew that I wasn't in last.  As I stepped up onto the boat ramp, I started to unzip my wetsuit, and realized that I could not feel my feet, and was a bit disoriented by the cold.  Prior to the race, we were told that the water was 68 degrees.  LIARS!  I have swam in 68 degree water, and this was not it.  Apparently, there was some shift related to a heavy rain we had during the week before the race.

 

As I ran through Transition and got to my rack, I noticed that there was only one bike gone from my rack.  Not too bad of a swim, I thought.  I not so quickly got out of my wetsuit. (I decided that one of my projects for the offseason will be to cut some length off of the legs of the wetsuit, as I have always had a difficult time getting my feet through the legs of the suit.)  I had set out my arm warmers, thinking that it might be a bit cool on the bike.  After futzing with them for a few seconds, I left them behind and headed out on my bike.   I heard an immediate SCREECH! coming from my front wheel.  Not knowing what the @*#& the sound was, I stopped, grabbed my front wheel, and spun it.  It spun freely without a sound, so I remounted and headed off.  The bike was uneventful, other than muttering under my breath that I wish that I had put on the arm warmers after all.   I jockeyed back and forth with a couple of racers throughout, trading places frequently.  Clearly, we were all about the same age and the same pace.  I kept thinking that, if I had been in better shape, I would have been able to drop them.  Then, I started thinking that I will need to train more during the winter than I have in the past few years.  As I finished the bike, I still could not feel my feet.  I also was a bit chilled on my upper body and hoped to find the sun during the run.

 

Again, I transitioned a bit slowly into my running shoes; my excuse this time was that my brain was a bit addled from the cold, my hands were cold, and I couldn't feel my feet.  I started off on a trot with a couple of other racers.  One of them was just off my heels and was breathing really hard.  After a half mile of the heavy breathing, I couldn't stand it any longer and put in a surge, so I could get rid of the heavy breather.  Bruce passed me headed the other direction a little around the mile mark.  I gave him a shout, but he was pretty focused on his race.  As I got to the turnaround, the volunteer shouted, "Sprint turnaround here... but you're doing the Olympic distance, right?"  My response:  "Oh, heck no!"  I got some laughter from the volunteers, and I gave them a quick smile.

 

Finally, with about 1/2 mile to go, my feet finally thawed out enough so that I could feel them.  It's a really strange feeling, running on numb feet.  You can feel the impact all the way up, and it's a bit more jarring because the proprioception is gone from the bottoms of your feet.  But you can't actually feel the impact of your feet hitting the ground.  It's as if you are running on the lower part of your legs.  As I saw the finish line, I had a hypoxic moment.  I looked at the finish line which was a right turn away... and missed the turn.  Doubling back, I made the turn and crossed the finish line (photo is of me just before making my last turn). 

 

 

I quickly packed up my stuff and headed out to watch David play water polo.  Afterwards, I found out that I had won my age group... kind of.  One of the top 3 was Keith Szot, who hammers me in every race and is in my age group.  Since he finished in the top 3, he was taken out of the age group awards, hence, my win.  At this point, I'll take wins any way I can get them.  And yes, Bruce won the race for the 4th straight time. 

To be(e) or not to be(e)... yep, to bee!

I was on my bike riding outside a couple of Sundays ago for the first time in (ahem) awhile. Needless to say, I could tell that I was not in very good riding shape.  I figured I'd just get out for 90 minutes or so to shake off the cobwebs.  Most of the ride was uneventful until about 6-7 miles left.  I was JRA minding my own business when:  "Owww!"  There was a sharp stinging sensation on my left lower thigh.  I initially thought that my shorts had snagged for some reason, but when the stinging persisted, I looked down and saw a little red spot.  I figured that I had been stung by a bee and continued home.  After a quick shower, we headed off to the Mariners' game.  Over the course of the game, my thigh continued to hurt and became more swollen and red.  I figured that I had just gotten a pretty good local reaction, although, since I don't usually get local reactions, I started to wonder if I was developing a cellulitis (skin infection).  When I awoke the next day, my leg was more swollen, red, and warm.  It wasn't too painful, though, so I just went on with my day, playing golf with Tracy, Richard, and Sue as planned.  By the end of 9 holes, it was worsening, and I realized that it probably was infected.   I ended up starting on antibiotics and it has improved a lot.

So, here I am 2 days before the second and, most likely, last race of my season.  My leg is not entirely back to normal, although it feels much better.  There is still some tightness in my lower thigh.  I don't feel completely normal, as I am still finishing up the antibiotics.  Should I race?  I elected not to race last weekend, as my leg was definitely not feeling great and the weather was supposed to be terrible.  As it turned out, that decision was the correct one, as the race (JBLM's Deuces Wild Triathlon) was cancelled partway through the race due to high winds and a tree falling in transition, injuring several people. 

While I am not 100%, I do think that I will race.  Why?  I've only raced one other time this year, but I'm not in very good shape.  And yet, I feel compelled to race, as a way of saying thank you and perhaps, good bye to my sponsors.  I also want to support the race (Bonney Lake's Labor of Love Triathlon) and the race director, BuDu Racing.

I think that this is the last season that I will be racing under the Hammer Nutrition and Rudy Project banners.  They have been incredibly great sponsors for me for (I think) the past 10 years.  Over the past several years, my racing and interest have both waned, due to a combination of change in life focus and increase in time commitments at home.  While I could still apply for sponsorship this fall, and probably continue with them, I don't feel that I am giving them the attention that they deserve, nor am I representing them as fully as I'd like. 

What's my goal for Saturday?  I hope to race well and finish with a smile on my face.  Is it my last race?  Probably not.  But if it is, I have enjoyed the competition and camaraderie with friends and fellow competitors.  And I thank Hammer Nutrition and Rudy Project for their support over the years.

I'm a shoe geek

While I don't have an Imelda Marcos infatuation with running shoes, I have enjoyed keeping up with all of the technological advances in shoes.  My first pair of "real" running shoes were New Balance 320's.  Back in the day, Runner's World designated them the #1 shoe.  I think I got them for $20 or something like that.  They were followed by Nike LDV's.  I tried to think of all the shoes that I've run in since then; it's a long list.*  Now, I'm running in Newton All-Weathers (although they've been discontinued, I bought an extra pair and squirrelled them away) and ASICS Gel-Super J33's.  Pretty fancy name for a pretty basic shoe.  I think, though, that I finally found a pair of shoes to alternate with Newtons.  When I worked at a running shoe store (Frank Shorter Fitness Wear) in college, I started alternating shoes, typically trying to find two different brands, or at least two different styles of shoe, so that I wouldn't get too "locked in" to a particular last.  And that's when I learned a lot about shoes.  One of the things I remember was running with a New Balance rep one morning and seeing that he had put a NB upper onto a Nike Terra Trainer midsole.  When asked about it, his response was that he wanted to see what the new midsole material, Phylon, felt like. 

Alternating shoes has mostly worked for quite some time.  Why do I say mostly?  When I started running in Newtons, I found that they felt better than any shoe that I had run in for a very long time.  They had great cushioning, but also had a very fast-feeling ride.  Newtons have been in the rotation since then, but trying to find the right alternative to Newtons has been tough.  Most recently, I ran in Saucony Mirages and then Kinvaras.  While they were light and had a low drop, something didn't feel quite right with them.  They were soft, but they always felt dead.  When I first started running in the J33's, I finally realized, after 30+ years of running, what my cushioning preference was.  While I like a cushioned shoe, I don't like a soft one.  What does that mean?  Basically, I like shoes that have a firmer, more responsive ride.  That's why I liked the Newtons.  And that's why I like the J33's.  I hope that ASICS doesn't change this shoe, because it works great for me:  the shape, the weight, and the feel are all great for me.  And while there are different Newton models, the ones that I wear all have the same feel to them.   The AW's feel similar, although a bit heavier, to the Motion and the Distance S. 

The J33's remind me of the original Gel-Lytes and DS Lytes that were my favorite shoes in the early 90's.  I thought those were the best shoes ever, bright colors nothwithstanding.  Unfortunately, each iteration of Gel-Lytes got heavier and then morphed into the DS Trainers, which also got heavier and heavier.  I'm glad ASICS went back to a simpler, flatter, and lower shoe.  While not built for everyone, they work for me and I will alternate them with the Newtons for the foreseeable future.

*as much in order as I can remember:  Brooks Vantage, New Balance 420, Saucony Jazz, Nike Internationalist, Epic, Equinox, Odyssey, Terra Trainer, ASICS Striker, X-caliber GT, GT2, Epirus, Nike Sock Trainer, Anodyne, ASICS Gel DS-Lyte, Gel Lyte I, II, and III, DS Trainers (in multiple editions), GT-2010, 2020, 2040, 2060, Brooks Adrenaline GTS (multiple editions), Cascadia, Nike Free 5.0 V1, 2, and 3, Vibram Five Finger Bikilas, K-Swiss Kwicky Blade Lite, Newton Motion, AW, Terra Momentus, Distance S, Saucony Mirage, Kinvara 3, ASICS Gel Super J33, and a bunch more whose names I can't remember.  My only regret is not having a pair of Nike Sock Racers!  And I'm glad that I didn't get sucked into the Nike V-series; even now I can remember how hideous they were.

Goodbye, my friend

I lost my best friend last night.  After having several good weeks, Stormy didn't greet me when I came home after David's swim meet last evening.  When I left in the morning, both Sancho and Storm were sitting at the door as if to say, "See you later."  When I returned home, Sancho came bounding to the door to greet me.  However, Storm didn't get up to meet me at the door, which is something that he has done nearly every day since we first got him.  I found him lying on the floor, looking up at me.  Of course, I knew immediately that the time had come.  The entire family gathered around to give him hugs, kisses, and to say goodbye. 

Try as he might to be brave, he couldn't go on any longer.  When Tracy first got home, he got up to greet her.  I even was able to coax him outside to do his business, which he dutifully did.  But then, instead of coming back in, he decided to lie down in the yard.  I carried him back in and sat down with his head in my lap. 

We took him to the vet, and he again bravely jumped out of the car and walked unsteadily to the front door.  I then carried him in.  I told Tracy that it seemed like he was trying to put on a brave front for everyone, trying to show that he was still the Alpha dog.  Except to me.  When I was there, he allowed himself to be taken care of by me.  The hardest thing to do was also the right thing to do.  We said goodbye to Stormy one last time, and then let him go to sleep.

RIP Stormy.  You will be missed by all, but especially by me.

 In his favorite spot with "his" blanket

 

And one last puppy picture

The cone of shame

Storm is at home.  He's nearly back to his old self, although he still has patches of bare skin, now being covered by a thin layer of hair as it grows back.  Because he had lost so much blood, he had IV's placed in both front legs, so these were shaved.  Then, to facilitate placing the limb leads for the monitor, another patch on both front and his left hind leg were shaved.  As Ryan commented, "He looks like a poodle."  (which, for a Portie, may be the greatest insult of all)  His belly was also shaved and his incision stapled closed.  Since dogs have a propensity for licking... everywhere... he was given an e-collar (aka Elizabethan collar; aka the cone of shame).  His first collar was too big and too soft.  I put it on and he promptly walked out of it. 

After he saw his PCV (that's my made-up abbreviation for primary care vet), Dr. Annie (who, I will say is not only a great vet, but a great runner, and even nicer person), he was given a hard cone to wear.  That seemed to work until he caught the edge of it on one of his staples as he, you guessed it, tried to lick the incision site, and pulled out a couple of the staples.  So, he then received a larger cone, and this seemed to solve all of the problems.  Well, except for the one where Storm now whacks his cone on everything:  door jamb, wall, back of my leg, back of my leg, back of my leg.  Yup, he's figured out that he can get attention by using the cone as a battering ram.  He has also managed to crack his cone when he and Sancho decided to chase each other down the hallway and he ran it into the door. 

So, where are we now?  As expected, his final path came back as metastatic hemangiosarcoma.  His expected lifespan is, at best, months.  We elected to decline chemotherapy, as it would figure to only prolong his life by a few months and is not curative.  So... we're trying mushrooms!  I looked up hemangiosarcoma and stumbled across the use of the turkey-tail mushroom (coriolus versicolor is the scientific name) in the treatment of hemangiosarcoma.  While the study was not great, I figured, "Why not? (at this point)." 

Right now, we're just enjoying having Storm around.  He's still energetic, especially at mealtimes, although he gets tired more quickly.  I have no doubt that at some point in the near future, he will have another bleed, which will be the terminal event.  While I am dreading that moment, I also am grateful that we were able to bring him home and that I can spend my evenings enjoying his company.  I'll be even happier when we can get rid of that cone, as I'm sure he will be, too.

My best friend

I'm going in a different direction on this blog for a little while.  I'm not a difficult person to read emotionally; you can usually tell how I am doing by just looking at me.  Basically, I wear my heart on my sleeve, much as I try to hold it inside.   But, while that's the case, it is hard for me to express myself verbally at times.  I have found, over the years, that writing can be therapeutic for me.

This is Storm.  Full name:  Yaquina Bay's Eye of the Storm.  Family names:  Storm, Stormy, Stormisch, Stormify, Stormy Weather... and on and on.  For the past nine years, he has been my best buddy.  While he never did agree to go running with me (until this past summer, which is an entirely different story), he has been the dog that every boy wants to have, at least for me... even with his quirks.  He wakes me up every morning by jumping on me, bugs me to feed him whenever I'm home, shoves his head underneath my hand when I'm sitting on a chair or couch, so that I have to pet him, barks fiercely whenever someone enters "his cul-de-sac" or comes to the door, and knocks over his water bowl whenever he wants fresh water. 

 

What else does Storm do?  He greets me at the door every time I come home, usually with his favorite toy in his mouth, high-fives me whenever I ask, tries to get me to chase him around the couch, follows me around the house, and snuggles up with me whenever I lie down.

 

As Storm is nearly 10, the realization that he is aging has been hitting home to me.  He is turning grayer, and he does sleep a bit more, but he is still the energetic clown that he has always been.   At least he was when we left for Portland last Friday for a water polo tournament.  On Sunday morning, during our second-to-last game, we received a phone call from our pet-sitter that Storm was lethargic and wouldn't eat or get up.  Since he always is the first one to awaken in the morning, the fact that he did not wake up our pet-sitter was a bit concerning.  Because of the concern that Storm was not acting well, he was taken to the emergency vet (Summit Veterinary Referral Center, for whom I am very grateful).  After several tests, there was concern that Storm was exhibiting the classic presentation for a Hemangiosarcoma.  Google that diagnosis, and you (if you are a dog lover) will immediately turn cold with dread.  It is a terminal diagnosis that typically can be measured in weeks to a few months.  Honestly, I am forever grateful to Kevin, our pet-sitter, who quickly recognized that there was something seriously wrong with Storm.  Had we been home, we might not have responded so quickly, since we are used to a lot of Storm's quirks and might have waited a bit longer, which could have been catastrophic.

 

I will spare most of the details but Storm was bleeding into his abdomen and required emergency surgery (exploratory laparotomy).  An active bleeding site was found in his spleen, so he had a splenectomy and multiple liver nodules were seen, so a biopsy was taken of one of the nodules.  Basically, while the final pathology won't be available until later this week, it appears that he has metastatic hemangiosarcoma. 

 

Storm is in the ICU right now, trying to recover.  Tracy and I have been visiting him multiple times during the day, and I'm hoping that he turns the corner and starts eating and that his dysrhythmia (heartbeat irregularities) stop, so the meds can be stopped.  But, the reality is that my buddy only has, at best, a few months to live, even with chemotherapy.  We're just hoping to bring him home, so that he can be in a familiar warm setting surrounded by those who love him. 

 

To be able to have a dog like Storm has truly been a treat for me.  It is said that dogs give people unconditional love without asking for much in return.  Storm epitomizes that for me. 

Rain, rain go away; come again another day!

After a hot dry summer in the Pacific Northwest, it rained on race day.  Once upon a time, I didn't mind racing in the rain.  Who am I kidding?  I've always hated racing in the rain.  When I looked at the weather forecast for the Bonney Lake Triathlon, rain showers were forecasted.  I held off on signing up because of that, figuring that I would make my decision on race day.  When I awoke at 5:30 on race morning, the deck was damp, but it was not raining.  I decided to head to Bonney Lake and see what the weather looked like there.  As I headed down 512, I saw sunshine over Bonney Lake, so I drove to the race site.  The parking lot looked full, but I decided to take a quick look anyway, and found a lone open parking spot.  I parked the van and headed off to register for the race.  After collecting my race packet, I started to get my bike ready.  Chris Blair drove up and I chatted with him for a bit.  Turns out that he fell and thought he had cracked a rib while mountain biking, so he was "just" going to ride as part of a relay.  He headed off to find a parking spot, marveling that I had found one so close.  At that point, the weather was still nice.  Paul Palumbo then drove up and we chatted briefly; he had initially signed up for the Olympic distance race, but decided to do the sprint instead, so we'd be racing each other.  He then headed off to find a parking spot as well.  Still no rain.

I entered transition, looking for Bruce or his bright green Lynskey.  I saw neither, and thought that maybe he decided to forego the race.  I racked my bike and got my transition area ready, then spent some time warming up on the run course.  Still no rain.  When I returned back, I met up again with Paul, and chatted some more with him as he got set up.  With 20 minutes before the race start, he was done, and we decided to do a swim warm up.  And then the rain started.  It was gradual at first, but by the time we started our warm up, it was raining hard.  We then headed to the start area, where the start was delayed for a few minutes.  The rain then tapered for a short time, and then began to come down hard again... which it did for the rest of the race. 

I headed to the left side of the swim area for the start.  It's funny.  No matter how far to the side I try to start, by the time the gun goes off, people have migrated over and I'm again near the middle.  Oh well, it was what it was.  I saw Bruce in the water, and wished him good luck.  He informed me that he had been hiding under some trees to stay dry and that his support crew (Karen and Lucas) were staying dry in the car.  When the gun (or in this case, Rory Muller yelling, "Go!") went off, I started swimming.  It was strange, because I was surrounded by a bunch of people swimming at around the same pace as me, so no one tried to swim over me, and nobody stopped right in front of me.  I got near the first (and only) buoy at the turnaround feeling great, not stressed and not out of breath, and, shockingly, could see the leaders  just turning around.  "Hey," I thought.  "I must be having a pretty good swim."  The swim back was similarly uneventful, although it was a bit more circuitous as I could not find my line to the finish.  As I ran out of the water and into Transition, I saw Paul just ahead of me.  Usually, Paul is in and out of Transition before me, so that confirmed that my swim was a good one for me.

Because of the rain, I made a conscious decision not to race the bike.  My biggest goal was to stay upright on the bike.  Since we have had very little rain over the last month, there was a lot of oil on the ground which made the roads even more slick.  With the Bonney Lake bike course having a lot of turns, I knew that it would be a slow bike for me.  On most of the turns, I was out of my aerobars, and even on the downhills, I was out of the aerobars and braking.  I arrived back in Transition cold and wet, but I remained upright and one of my biggest mental hurdles left over from my crash in 2011 had been overcome.  Funny enough, whether it was because it was so wet, or because I wasn't pushing the bike that hard, I didn't feel very thirsty during the entire ride.  I only took two short drinks of my HEED.

I left Transition and headed onto the run course with a couple of other racers.  One racer went hammering by me early.  I steadily reeled all of the other racers, including the guy who passed me early.  Looking around at around 2 miles, I didn't see anyone in front or anyone behind, so I knew that I was stuck in whatever place I was in.  None too quickly, the race ended.  I saw Paul at the Finish and congratulated him.  Last year, the roles were reversed.  His conclusion was that we are so close in ability that the sharper person usually wins.  And his definition of sharper was the person that had raced the previous week.  Last year, that was me, and this year, it was him.

As I made my way back to Transition to collect my gear, I stopped by to chat with Rory.  I thanked him and Deanna for putting on the race again this year, even if it did rain on his parade.  I also apologized that I was not going to stick around for the awards, because I was cold and wet and needed to get home, clean up, and warm up.  I checked on the results on my way out, and saw that Bruce had won for the third consecutive year, that I had biked REALLY slow, and that I had finished 9th and won my age group.  My bike split allowed two young ladies to "chick" me, even though they never passed me on the course.  Oh well, I was intact, and that was the biggest accomplishment of the day.

When I got home, I got out my bike, took out the seatpost, and flipped the bike upside down.  Over a cup of water came pouring out of the seat tube.  Yes, it was a wet race!  And a fun way to finish my somewhat short season.

Wait! We're at altitude?!

David and I competed at the YFC Seeley Lake Triathlon a couple of weeks ago.  Last year, Trayc and I made plans to go to Yellowstone this August.  When Tracy found out that one of our friends, Bryan Brosious, had done the Seeley Lake Triathlon last year on the same weekend we planned to go to Yellowstone this year, she "suggested" that we reciprocate and race at Bryan's local race on the way.  So, there we were, headed to Yellowstone with a couple of tri-bikes on the roof of the van.
 Unfortunately, we found out that Bryan had decided to call it a year and wouldn't be at the race.  David's comment was, "That's too bad.  But now, I have a chance to win!"  Those words would be somewhat prophetic. 

Just as at Moses Lake, David's Hammer kit was black and mine was lime green, so he asked if I wanted to switch helmets so that we had matching helmet and kit.  Of course I agreed.

We rolled into the Riverpoint Campground at Seeley Lake on race morning.  After picking up our packets and getting everything ready, David and I looked around.  The transition area was pretty empty (and would remain that way.  We found out later that the publicity for the race didn't happen, so the turnout was very low).  We got our instructions and headed to the water's edge. 

The gun went off and I started swimming straight into the sun towards the first buoy.  As I made the first turn, all of a sudden, I felt like I was swimming backwards and was short of breath.  I switched from my usual bilateral breathing to breathing one side, alternating sides.  Apparently, David flew through the swim, and exited the water in 1st place by over a minute.  In fact, he was so fast that he beat everyone out of transition... including the volunteer who was in charge of manning the first turn on the bike.  So... while the course was supposed to be a right turn out of the campground, David went left (I nearly made the same mistake, even though the volunteer was there and yelling at me by the time I got there). 

I got out of the water in 7th and quickly moved up into 3rd place.  I trailed eventual winner Micah Hill to the bike turnaround and then went past him and the first place rider, so I was leading the race.  Since I did not see David, I had the sinking feeling that he had made a wrong turn on the bike.  I led Micah until the turn into the campground, and then he turned inside of me and took the lead.  We exited transition within 50 yards of each other, but I knew that I was in deep trouble, as my legs felt dead. 

As I headed out on the run, Tracy yelled at me: "David took a wrong turn."  I filed that in my brain as I tried to make up ground on first place, but to no avail.  Micah put two minutes on me in 3.3 miles.  Finishing second was somewhat bittersweet; I was happy with how I had done, although a win would have been better, but it was tempered by David's disappointment.  He had pushed so hard during the first few miles of the bike that he lost all of his focus when he realized that he had made a wrong turn.  And seeing Tracy on the run basically sunk it for him.

Struggling to keep it together until the end:

Thanks to Ryan who took over cameraman duties and got these great photos of David and me.  After the race, I thought about it and wondered if Seeley Lake was at altitude.  I looked it up and, yes, indeed, it is over 4,000 feet in elevation.  Needless to say, that helped to explain the fact that I thought I was going backwards on the swim, and had dead legs on the run.

 

 

Oh, to be young again

Last Friday was the 4th of July.  Since I have lived in Steilacoom, I have tried to run in the "4 on the 4th" whenever I can. It is hard to NOT run this race, because I can almost roll down the hill from my house to get to the start.  It is a little race with a very honest (read: somewhat hilly) course.  There are  only two hills, and the 1st uphill is small, so of little consequence.  The second hill, though, gets your attention.  The course is an out-and-back, so you start off flying down the hill for the first 1/2 mile.  Of course, what goes down must come back up in an out-and-back, so the last 1/2 mile of the race is a good attention-getter.  I first ran this race back in, I think, around 2000 or 2001 (when I was much younger, fitter and faster).  My time was somewhere in the 22 minute range and I was in the top 10.  And every time I have run this race, I have gotten slower (and, naturally, older).

This year, I was not expecting to run very fast.  I'm not very fit and I have not done any speedwork.  So, I was wearing a T-shirt rather than a singlet and not my lightest flats.  As I jogged down to the start, I thought, "Well, at least my legs weren't feeling dead."  I paid my entry fee and waited for the start.  In keeping with the feeling that I wasn't going to be running very fast, I only did a single stride-out (and even that wasn't very fast).  We lined up and I made sure not to be up front.  The starter (I think it was Pat Kenworthy) yelled, "Go!" and off we went.  I held back going down the hill and cruised through the first mile in 6:23.  The first mile marker was pretty accurate to my GPS.  As we wended our way along Chambers Creek Road, and crossed the bridge, my GPS hit 2 miles.  We headed up the first hill and turned around, and I thought, "We're way over 2 miles.  How hard is it to get an accurate course on an out-and-back?"

I got chicked by Jenny Stevick shortly after the 3rd mile.  We ran together for a bit, and chatted about how the last hill was a pretty miserable hill.  And then she dropped me.  I gathered myself for the last hill and as I started ascending, my GPS hit 4 miles.  I thought about stopping for just an instant since it was 4 miles, but decided that I really should finish.  As I went by one of the last bushes, somebody came out of it and started running towards the finish just in front of me.  That seemed a bit strange to me, and as I passed him just before the finish, I wondered, "Would someone actually cheat in a little race like this?"  Seemed strange that he would pop out just before the finish: if he was in front of me, why was he running slower at the finish than I was?  Oh well, to each his own.

I finished in 27:19, which, according to my GPS was 6:33/mile, nearly 1 minute/mile slower than 2000.  Funny thing is that my overall place is the same as last year, but I actually podiumed for my age group.  The course was definitely longer than it has ever been, so my overall time looks worse than it should, but getting older clearly has its disadvantages.  I guess it's time to get serious, so that I can try to recover lost youth!

Start of the season

A day (or 30) late but I raced last month at Moses Lake.  It was hot on the other side of the mountains, and, given that my fitness was not great, I didn't figure that I would be having a great race... and I was right.  It was a struggle for the entire day.  But we'll get to that.

David and I made the trip over to Moses Lake on Friday night for the 3rd time.  As opposed to last year, it was a very easy drive and we rolled into Moses Lake about 9:30 PM.  It was nice to get a lot of sleep, since we went to bed shortly after arriving, knowing that the race started at 10:00 AM. I love this race, because of the late start.  It gives me a chance to ease my way into racing season, since I can wake up without an alarm. 

After a leisurely breakfast staring out at the race site, David and I went back to the room to get ready.

 As we changed and loaded up our gear, David looked at me and asked, "Do you want to trade helmets for the race?"  You see, our new Hammer kit was all black for him and lime green for me.  And our race helmets are fluorescent yellow for him and black for me Rudy Project Wingspans.  I thought that it would be fun to swap and have matching kit from head to toe, so I said yes.

We headed to the race site and got our stuff out of the van.  Bryan Brosious rolled up to us and we chatted briefly, picking up where we left off last summer.  We had ample time to warm up, and as I took a long jog, I was already warm.  I figured it was going to be a hot run.  Finishing by the water's edge, I tested the water, and it seemed reasonably warm.  It was definitely not going to be the bone chilling swim of 2 years ago.

Too quickly, it was race time.  I did a short warm up (since I have not been swimming much, I figured that I needed to save up as much as I could).  I wished David and Bryan good luck and took my place near the dock near the front.  The gun went off and I got stuck behind a guy swimming Army style:  left-right-left-right.  I finally had enough of him and got around him, where I had open water for the entire race.  I exited the water somewhere around 10th place, feeling more tired than I've felt swimming in a long time (And why is it that there seem to be so many people in front and on top of me at the start of the swim, but, by the time we're done, they're nowhere to be seen?  I just have to learn to sprint).  I jumped on my bike and set off in pursuit.  Looking down, my heart race was at 156, where it stayed for the majority of the ride.  I felt out of breath, and didn't seem like I could catch my breath.  I could feel the headwind all the way out.  As I headed to the turnaround, I saw Bryan heading back in 1st.  I yelled some encouragement as he passed by; David followed Bryan soon afterward in 4th place.  I yelled some encouragement to him as well.  At the turnaround, I felt the tailwind, and sailed back, riding the wind.  It was windy enough that I was pushed around a little on my bike, feeling some sidewind gusts.

By the time I made it back to the transition area, I was in 6th place.  I saw David heading out of transition as I was entering.  He yelled, "I beat you!" I could tell that he was proud of his swim-bike split.  I later found out that he was 2nd out of the water, just trailing another 15 year old, as they traded off the lead.  I caught David about 1/2 mile into the run, and set my sights on the 4th place.  Unfortunately, he was pulling away from me.  And it was hot!  I was already suffering and my legs felt dead.  Close to the turnaround, the eventual race winner, Bryan Lindsay, came at me from the other direction.  He was flying!  I later found out that he was running at 5:25 pace.  Soon afterward came Bryan Brosious.  I yelled some encouragement and we exchanged high-fives.  Joshua Fitchett was next in 3rd and then Ethan Carlson was 4th.  And there was no way I was going to catch anybody on that day.  As I made the turnaround and headed for home, I saw David approaching and yelled some encouragement to him, also exchanging high-fives. 

I finished the race in 5th place, totally spent, and then jogged back to cheer David on.  That's what I love about sprint races:  you can go from total exhaustion to recovery in minutes.  David was desperately hanging on to 13th place, 2nd AG, and was less than 1/4 mile from the finish.  Unfortunately, his swim buddy, Matthew Creagan was moving faster than him, and passed him for second place.

Overall, we had a successful Team Hammer day:  Bryan was 2nd OA, 1st AG; David was 14th OA, 3rd AG; and I was 5th OA, 1st AG.  (Thanks to Ayla Wyman for the picture)

 

 

And now I have to try to get into shape! 



Why run?

After having spent a week in the warm sunshine of Arizona, I'm back to the reality that is the Pacific Northwest.  While the days in Arizona warmed up to 70 degrees, the mornings were chilly, usually in the low 40's.  When the sun came up, though, it would warm up quickly.  So, 43 degrees in Scottsdale felt a lot different than 43 degrees in Tacoma.  Still, when we returned to the Northwest, it was cool but clear (not rainy).  Last Friday, after a busy morning and just before a busy afternoon, I escaped at Noon for a quick run.  I contemplated even skipping the run, because I was so time-crunched, but then figured a short run was better than no run at all, so off I went.  As I was starting out, I heard a loud noise overhead, and looked up to see two F-18's taking off from McChord.  And then while I was still looking up, I spotted two bald eagles soaring high above.  Those two images, as well as the sun shining above, definitely made my run, though short, worthwhile.

On Sunday, it was another cold, sunny day.  I decided to go for a run on the trails.  Ryan's first question, upon hearing that I was going for a run, was, "Are you bringing the puppy (Sancho)?"  I had originally planned on running by myself, but Sancho looked expectant, so I said yes.  I asked Sancho, "Are you ready to go?  Did you stretch?"  Almost on cue, Sancho did a downward facing dog, followed by an upward dog.  I guess that meant yes.  He kept me company, pretty much running by my side during the entire run, dropping me on every hill, and then looking back as if to say, "Are you coming?"  While it was not a fast run, it was great, as I enjoyed the sunshine, the freedom of the trail, and the company of one of my puppies.

What was I thinking?!

During a recent Northwestern football game viewing, my best friend, Richard (no, it is not myself speaking in third person... it really is someone else), commented on how difficult it is to get back into shape.  He's been struggling to regain his previous running form (no, seriously, this is not about me) since an injury and surgery a few years ago (really, it's not me).  While he is able to run pain-free since his Achilles surgery (see, I told you!), he has lost speed and is unhappy about this.  I mentioned that the way to get back into shape would be to pick a race, probably a marathon.  Of course, I said this jokingly.  Well, Richard thought about this, and chose the Surf City Marathon as a good target, since it was 18 weeks away, plenty of time to go through a training plan, ramping up gradually.  And of course, he figured that I'd do it with him, since I was the one that suggested it. 

It usually takes me a year or two to forget how painful a marathon is.  The training is actually not the hard part.  When you contrast marathon training with triathlon training, it's relatively easy.  You run.  That's it.  And since your body can only take so much pounding, the running is usually only about an hour for every day but the long run day.  Of course, the long run day can be a challenge.  At its peak, the long run can take up to 3 hours.  Contrast that, though, to a long bike when training for 1/2 IM or IM, and 3 hours is a breeze.  The day after a long run is usually interesting, when you can't get enough food or drink in you, and your legs are pretty trashed. 

Anyway, Richard and I decided that we would put in a month of training and see where that got us.  I gave November 4th as the day of reckoning, when we would either bail or sign up.  As for my training plan, I've used the Hal Higdon plan in the past, as well as the Pete Pfitzinger plan.  For this month, I'm kind of combining the Pete Pfitzinger plan with the Run Less, Run Faster plan with my own variation.  I figured that if I run a marathon, my goal should be to go to Boston.  To qualify as a 50 year old, I need to run 3:30.  Since Boston now uses a rolling registration (faster qualifiers relative to qualifying time register first), and the first registration cut-off is 20 minutes faster than qualifying time, that means I should aim for a 3:10.  It seems doable, since that is 7:15 minute/mile pace.  So, what I've decided is to make sure that I'm running 7:30 or better for all of my runs.  If I can do this, getting down to 7:15 should be relatively easy. 

So far, I'm doing okay.  My runs have been 7:30 pace.  I have not done anything fast yet, and my long run was 8 miles 10 days ago.  I was supposed to increase my long run by 2 miles each week with a fall-back run at week 4, but I got a bad case of vertigo this past weekend, and did nothing but lie on the couch.  So far, the weather has cooperated.  While my favorite weather is warm and sunny, I think my next favorite, especially to run and ride in, is foggy weather.  There's a bit of surrealism to running and riding when it's foggy.  I think the dampness contributes to dampening sound, so it's quieter, maybe even a bit eerie.  When I mentioned this to the boys, David even mentioned that it reminded him of "Pre" (the movie).  Of course, I don't run anything like Pre, but I could picture what he was talking about. 

Today, as I ran out in the Log Center trail in the cool fog, I was a bit uneasy, since I don't think the bears are hibernating yet.  I ran a bit quicker through the trees at that thought, and didn't really relax until I had gotten back onto the pavement.  But even as I ran uneasily through the trees, I did take the time to enjoy the way the trees looked in the fog/mist.  And I can say that the Pacific Northwest is definitely THE place to be for running right now.    

Italian may mean high maintenance... but oh, when it's working!

When I decided to update my road bike components several years ago, I decided to change from Shimano 8-speed Dura-Ace to Campagnolo 10-speed Record.  Why?  Well, it wasn't exactly that well thought-out, since my tri-bike has Shimano components, so I can't swap between them.  My cyclocross bike, though, has Campagnolo 10-speed, so it's not completely crazy.  Anyway, I put a new chain on my road bike, and cleaned the cassette, derailleurs and crankset prior to putting them on.  I took apart the cassette to clean it, remembering that the spacers were not uniform.  For some reason, Campagnolo makes spacers that are differentiated.  I suppose it makes the shifting better, but I couldn't figure out why.  After all, Shimano's cassettes have uniform spacers and their shifting seems to work pretty well.  I even pulled out the technical manual that came with the cassette (yes, I keep those things) and looked at it. 

So, after cleaning and then reassembling the cassette last night, I ran through the gears to make sure it was shifting cleanly.  Every cog shifted smoothly except for the 17.  It kept getting hung up and I could not get it to work.  I went to bed, figuring that I would work on it in the morning.  As I was getting ready to fall asleep, the idea that I had assembled the spacers incorrectly went through my mind.  When I woke up this AM, I looked at the schematics of the technical manual, and then took off the cassette.  Yup, I had reversed the spacer between the 23-25 and the 19-21.  When I switched them, reassembled the cassette, and ran through the cogs, it shifted smoothly, even the 17.  Ah-ha!  Taking my bike out for a ride today, after having put on a new chain, and cleaned the drivetrain, everything worked smoothly.  The shifting in a Campagnolo drivetrain is just more solid than I've found in a Shimano drivetrain, at least between road bikes.  The brifters don't rattle, and each shift is a solid "thunk" rather than a "snick" that I've experienced with Shimano. 

And maybe that's why there are three different types of spacers in a Campagnolo cassette.  But, it just reminds me that it requires just a bit more attention than Shimano.  And it reminds me of the reputation of Italian sports cars:  they are fantastic to drive, but are much more finicky.  But, as I rode my bike today and felt the satisfaction of each positive shift and how the drivetrain hummed along, I understood why people still buy Italian sports cars.

I'm not like the princess and the pea... really!

Today's entry is actually an update of an entry from May 2012... and that is a column that I originally wrote several years ago. As you can see, I have continued to update it.  The entire piece is long, but somewhat amusing, and I'm sure many others have been through the same thing I've been going through.  So, without further ado, here's the continuation of my May 2012 entry, "Riding shouldn't be a pain in the butt":

Update December 2012:  After playing around with where to sit on the V-Flow Plus, I did find the sweet spot.  It is actually nearly at the tip, but I found that I can sit there for an extended period of time without difficulty.  When I realized where the sweet spot was for me, I ended up moving the saddle back about ¾ cm.  That helped to keep me from banging my knees on my elbows.  I think the quest is finally over.

Update May 2013:  And nope.  The sweet spot for the V-Flow Plus was further back from the nose.  And being a career nose rider, it just feels strange to me.  So, I went back and tried the Adamo again, buying a used Time Trial on Slowtwitch.  It is shoved back, but I’ve found that it puts me in a better position from a feel standpoint.  I end up near the front, but don’t feel like I’m falling off.  Of course, where I sit on the prongs will take some getting used to, as has been suggested.  But while the Time Trial is a “firm” saddle, I don’t mind it, and even found a comfortable spot on it this AM while riding.  Again, I may need a bit more playing around to try and find the optimum spot.  In looking at my comments on the Breakaway, it was comfortable, but felt too wide.  I think by moving the Time Trial further back, the wideness issue has been alleviated.  And the idea that you are sitting on an Adamo in much the same way you perch on the edge of a bench or ledge is a good visual.

So, I think the Adamo is a “go.”  After a few trainer rides, it seems to work pretty well.  I haven’t been uncomfortable at all, and, in fact, feel pretty good on the trainer.  I guess I’ll need to road-test it to make sure it works, but I like the fact that I feel like I’m sitting “on the rivet,” which is how I’ve ridden for years on a tri-bike.  However, there isn’t any pressure and no numbness.  I’ll have to get a look at my position in a photo.

Update September 2013:  I think I’ve found it… finally.  After spending the season on the Adamo Time Trial, I didn’t think it was the answer.  I decided to try the Specialized Sitero, a new time trial/triathlon-specific saddle.  After every ride on the Time Trial, I felt like there were sore areas that shouldn’t have been there, still feeling that it was too wide.  After a couple of short rides on the Sitero, I definitely don’t have the same soreness, and it certainly feels the best of any saddle that I’ve tried to date.  More time will be spent this winter to see if it’s the right one for me.  And reportedly, the studies done by Specialized showed that blood flow to the perineal area was better with this saddle than another other saddle, including the Adamos.   Interestingly, since I first wrote this, Adamo increased the number of their saddles, mostly to include time trial/triathlon-specific saddles, Cobb came out with their Gen2, Specialized came out with their Sitero, Bontrager came out with their adjustable Hilo, and Fi`zi:k and Shimano have released pictures of their new time trial/triathlon saddles, which will be available in the winter.  It’s funny how there has been an explosion of saddles for triathletes, who are all trying to find the saddle that will allow them to ride in an aggressive position without being punished for it.

September 11th

I purposely try to stay on track, rambling (mostly in a lighthearted manner) about my athletic life in this blog.  There's enough to stress on and be serious about that I use this as a way to take life (and myself) a little bit less seriously.  Today, though, I'm going to step outside my box and onto my soapbox.  You can elect to read onwards, or skip today's entry 

On a terrible day 12 years ago, our lives, and the world for that matter, were forever changed.  Most of you can remember where you were when you heard the news about the terrorist attacks.  I was in my car, headed to work via North Fort Lewis and there was a back up on North Gate Road all the way to the T-intersection of Steilacoom-Dupont Highway.  There was a lockdown and ID's were being checked at the gate, which was first time this had happened since the first Gulf War.  I was in line about halfway down North Gate Road when the reports that the first tower had fallen came out.  I also remember being parked on I-5 listening to the reports.  It took me over 3 hours to get to work, and I was one of the few in my clinic that actually made it to work.  We spent most of the day, staring at the TV, watching the video feeds over and over.  I remember walking around in a daze for much of the day.

On September 11, I think it is important to reflect on that day and on where we live and what we stand for.  What caused me to write today's entry was a Facebook entry from someone who apparently "can't handle" all the public stuff that goes on every year.  Well... deal with it!  Or choose another country to live in, one that probably does not have all the freedoms with which we are endowed in this country.  Yes, other countries have been violated in their past, but we live in a country that is regarded in a different manner than any other country in the world.

The thing that, well, pisses me off, is the attitude of entitlement that permeates some in our country.  We live the way we live because of sacrifices that a small portion of our population makes.  And yes, we recognize the armed forces on certain days of the year, and the rest of the year, much of what is done by them is below our consciousness.  Okay, maybe I'm more sensitive to this, because I am a Veteran, and I work in an institution that is part of the armed forces, and I have had friends and acquaintances that are or were on Active Duty.  They have made sacrifices, from missing their children's first birthday and not being able to be there as a parent or spouse, to injuries which will last a lifetime.  When you speak with someone who has been deployed, invariably they will make light of the situation, focusing on the lighthearted moments that occurred.  What they won't or don't do is dwell on the negatives. 

This September 11th is nearly over; I hope that this date will always be in the public eye and we never forget.

I am off of my soapbox now. 

The season... is over

It's funny.  It is early September, and there is still a lot of good weather left.  But I am done racing this year, and I think my body knows it.  And maybe there was a message in the fortune cookie that I got last night at dinner:

Over the last week, I've transitioned to off-season mode.  Several years ago, I stopped lifting for a variety of reasons.  While my last race was my fastest, and I felt strong throughout, I also noticed that my leg strength has waned.  Now, maybe it's the lack of miles I have put in, but I decided to head back to the gym and restart my lifting program.  I also think my philosophy has changed a bit where I'm looking not just at triathlon shape, but also at my overall health.

The first thing I noticed was how weak I've gotten.  I'm hoping that much of it is simply related to technique, and learning how to balance weights again.  But I also felt my legs nearly cramp after doing leg presses (after doing squats) with not that much weight.  It's going to be a fun challenge to regain some strength.  The second I noticed was the titanium plate in my clavicle.  Although I have been doing push ups without any problem, bench press with a barbell caused a strange sensation in my shoulder/clavicle when I did it, kind of a stretch/pop thing.  While not painful, it wasn't exactly pleasant.  I'll have to keep an eye on that.

I hopped on the bike yesterday to do some time on the trainer.  And there was not much motivation in it.  My legs were still tight from lifting 3 days earlier, and I just didn't have much interest.  I think this is another sign that the season is over for me.  I'm going to try to get on my trainer several times this week just to keep things going, but I'm guessing they'll be more of a spin session than any harder work.  That's okay by me for now.

And as I was running this weekend, I kept thinking about one of my all-time favorite songs, "Long Time," by Boston.  The lyrics seemed to fit my recollections of how I feel during races and training:

"It's (sic) been such a long time
I think I should be goin'
And time doesn't wait for me, it keeps on rollin'
Sail on, on a distant highway
I've got to keep on chasin' a dream
I've gotta be on my way
Wish there was something I could say.

Well I'm takin' my time, I'm just movin' on
You'll forget about me after I've been gone
And I take what I find, I don't want no more
It's just outside of your front door.

It's been such a long time. It's been such a long time."

Keep in mind that this is a mid-70's song, and one of the songs of my youth.

Old bikes vs. new bikes

I did my last race of the season on Saturday.  It was the Bonney Lake Sprint Triathlon.  Yes, the last day in August is a bit early to end my season, but I think it had to do with the previous 3 weeks.  For the first time in, oh maybe forever, I raced 4 weekends in a row.  It didn't start out that way.  I had planned to do the RAT race in Redmond in early August, and then Bonney Lake 3 weeks later.  So what happened?  David asked if we could do the Fort Lewis Olympic Tri as a relay, so I ran a 10K.  And then he asked to do the Lake Sammamish Triathlon.  And since I ALWAYS do the Bonney Lake Triathlon, well, there you go. 

As I was setting up my bike on Friday, I got a call from Bryan Brosious.  He was opting out of Bonney Lake.  Apparently, all of the 7 hour drives from Montana had taken their toll on him; that, and 12 previous races.  He said he was tired.  I definitely would have been. 

Since David had water polo practice on Saturday morning, he wasn't racing.  And since someone had to drive him to practice, Tracy wasn't going.  It was just going to be a solo journey for me, so I figured I'd do the race, load back up, and head home.  No breakfast at The Buttered Biscuit in Sumner this year. 

Saturday morning was beautiful, although a bit dark at 5:00 AM.  I loaded up and headed out to Bonney Lake, getting to the race site at around 6:15 AM... for an 8:30 AM race start.  Okay, I was a bit early, but I got a great parking spot.  Dave Tollefson spotted me immediately and said hi.  I got my race packet and set up my bike at the car, then headed into transition, saying hello to Rory Muller and chatting with him briefly.  I've been doing Rory's races since he started them, and he and his wife, Deanna, have definitely gotten it figured out.  Their races run pretty smoothly now, and Rory and Deanna do a nice job with thinking about the participants.  As I racked my bike, Drew Magill showed up with his P5.  It's a nice bike... a REALLY nice bike.  I realized that my beloved P3 is now 8 years old, and that, despite all of the newer bikes around, I really don't have any need or desire to change bikes.  Mark Doane showed up soon after with his P4.  While Drew was racked next to me, Mark was on the next rack over.  It would have been fun to have Mark on the same rack, so that we would have had a P3, P4, and P5 next to each other.  Oh well, here's a picture of the P3 with Drew's P5 in the background:

Even though there was still a lot of room on the rack, Mr. Felt (next to me) decided that he REALLY needed to rack his bike right on top of my transition towel.  It was kind of strange, but whatever.

I saw Paul Palumbo shortly after.  He asked me to look at his bike after the race, because he found a crack in the frame and wondered if he needed to replace it.  He has a QR TiPhoon that is about the same age as my P3.  What seemed strange was that it is titanium, and it had cracked.  That just isn't right.

And then I saw Karen Antonowicz and little Lucas.  Karen had mentioned that Bruce needed to do the Bonney Lake race to A) defend his title; and B) go out to The Buttered Biscuit.  So, it looked like I was going out to breakfast after the race after all.  I saw Bruce, and kidded him about coming out of retirement.  He smiled, but had his game face on already.  He looked intent on defending his title.

The race went well for me, except for the swim.  As usual, I was in the scrum, and then, for the first time ever, somebody managed to yank my goggles off of my head around 150 yards into the swim.  This was very odd, since it is difficult to do, because I put my goggles on under my swim cap.  So, I lost probably 15-20 seconds getting them back on and then proceeded on and finished.  I got on my bike and headed out, hammering the entire way, since I knew I had some catching up to do.  I passed a fair amount of Olympic racers, but was passed by two sprint racers early on who flew by me, which was another unusual event.  I guess they were even worse swimmers than I am.   I got back to transition, and traded my bike for my running shoes.  Because the bike course is set up as a loop, I had no idea what place I was in, but I knew I needed to run fast.  I caught Paul heading out of transition and told him to run with me.  I got a grunt in reply, and figured that I was on my own.  Karen saw me soon after and took this picture:

I caught Dave Tollefson soon after that, and his comment was, "What took you so long?"  And then I caught Bryan Hoon climbing up the first big hill, and his comment was, "You passed me in the same spot last year."  I couldn't really say much to either of them, because I was working as hard as I could and sucking air in a big way.  I basically just said, "Nice job," and kept plugging away.  Just short of the 2 mile mark, I heard some footsteps, and looked back to see a tall, thin young man moving up on me.  I hit the branch point for the Sprint/Olympic race and went straight while he turned left.  And then just after the 2 mile mark, I got passed by someone moving fast.  It was Darren Gray, who is 45 and so in my age group.  I realized that I had lost at least 1 place, because he was flying, and I wasn't.  Turns out I finished 2nd in my AG to Darren. 

Throughout the bike and run, I felt dead and couldn't go any harder.  After looking at my results, I knew why.  Despite my lack of training this year, my bike and run splits were the fastest I've ever gone at Bonney Lake.  So, maybe the 4 straight weeks of racing helped get me into better sprint shape.  I finished 8th OA and 2nd in my AG, not a bad showing, but I never saw Bruce, Drew, or Mark on the course.  They were way ahead of me.  Unfortunately for Drew, he missed the first turn on the run and ran off the course, so he DQ'd himself.  Having missed that turn myself in 2009 (the first year), I knew that it was easy to do; I was saved back then, because a spectator yelled at me and re-directed me back after only a few yards.  Bruce was able to defend his title, and Mark was 2nd, the second week in a row that Mark finished 2nd.

Picture of the 45-49 podium (as Tracy so lovingly needles me, I am First Loser):

On Tuesday, I had been reading about questions regarding new bikes, such as the Cervelo S5 and new S3.  When I got home, I decided to go for a ride, and grabbed my road bike, which is now nearly 18 years old.  I realized that, while there are a lot of new bikes out there, and are tantalizing, especially to David,  I have no desire (or need) to change bikes.  Drew's P5 with Di2 was really cool, but I still like the looks of my P3 better.  And my Ti Cycles Road Bike is timeless, even after 18 years, and still gives me a wonderful ride.  When I had originally had it built, I wanted a classic look, so it has a horizontal top tube and 700c wheels.  Dave Levy had suggested 650c wheels and a sloping top tube for a more compact geometry, but I didn't like that look.  And I'm definitely glad I did it that way.  It even has Campagnolo Record, which I changed from 8 speed Dura-Ace some years back.  There is something about how a classic bicycle looks that trumps all of the modern swoopy designs.

Of course, I might consider Di2 for them in the future...