Sometimes it is hard to swallow: Life, Work, Triathlon. Many times, we go about our training as if it were ingrained in us at birth.
Man was designed to move, to run, to enjoy his environment. I’m a evolutionist, born and raised - admittedly.
So when I find myself, and others, huddled around glowing boxes like this one (only this one is a glowing lap-box), I realize how far society has drained itself of its capacity, and yet propelled itself towards a seeming infinity.
Virginia Woolf once described the chaos and carnage at the end of the First Great War, as “Progress Through Regression”. This is man epitomized today.
My day was spent in front of one of these creatures of control, dictators of development, and fiendish fortune-tellers.
I finally did get away, only to find myself getting “pulled over”, yelled at, and scowled at by a really brute of a man during my swim workouts. I accidentally rubbed a finger by his leg as we were passing in the same lane. Mind you, I doubt he has ever been in the beginning of a triathlon swim.
Maybe I should just go back to my happy running. Forget about swimming.
Running truly is my faith, my Prozac, or to paraphrase a popular advertisement, “my sandbox”; It makes me cry at times.
I’ve been injured, and wept over my shoes. Not far from where I type this now.
I miss my friends, my running buddies, peer and older and younger. Wherever you are guys, keep your head up, and long may you run.
I wish I could just sit down tonight with them - with my heroes, past and present: Jack Kennedy, George Sheehan, My Grandpa, Paula Radcliffe.
I wonder what they would do.
To be continued…

Brick
Seventy-seven degrees, with 72% relative humidity. T2/T3 Brick Workout planned after a triple session Friday, and a long run and recovery swim yesterday. Averaging 28.8 km/hr, for 28 miles, with an irritated heart rate monitor. Grr.
At the beginning, the legs did not comply, which is not atypical, as they are stiff and irritable in the beginning, and I like that.
At the transition area (a playground), I dismounted, cleats off, shoes on, and began running. Two miles later I began to recall how to actually run again. To paraphrase IronWil (throughth3wall.com) Body was indecisive, but mind made the decision.
Seven miles later at 8:30 min/mi, I was one tired puppy.
But I know that I learned today. I pushed my run longer than the five miles I had envisioned myself doing. I am stronger for it, and I am more educated.
Oly-Distance I'm coming for you.

Dead Batteries and Intuition

Okay, so I got my car back yesterday. Happy me, Rover has returned. Then I get out of work early today, and get back to my car. Life is good.
Battery is dead. This is not good. ‘Okay its hot outside,’ I concur…maybe it croaked. AAA comes, and jumps it. Now, I have a ride to the pool. Okay, swim 1400m. Done. Felt good, although shoulder was a bit rickety. Needs oil, unlike my car J
Get out of the pool, battery is dead again. Son of a *&$(
AAA comes, can’t jump it. Guess I’m calling home for a ride. And without my car, yet again.
Now my mind is set on my last workout, the ride in the rain. Back home, but mother wants to go food shopping. Who goes food shopping before a workout?!
Its like showering without developing a sweat first. I got a PowerBar PriaBar out of it. Not bad, quite palatable.
Got home, and got in my ride, in the pouring rain.
Three Workouts. A Dead Battery, and one 150 pounds of well oiled tenacity.

Thank You Wonder Girl

When I was in high school, I knew a girl who moved to my school district in 11th grade. She ran XC, I was a hockey player. Polar opposites. A year later, I took up running, only about 15 miles per week.
More often than not, I ride in the afternoon. Run in the AM. Well, one of my ride loops goes by the end of her street, and she runs in the afternoon.
We always pass at the same corner, and smile, although she may not recognize that weird guy on the brightly colored bike, riding his bicycle in that weird position.
I recall when I used to just run, (Which I still love more than anything else) and I saw cyclists going by in the aero position, they wouldn’t even wave or say “hey”.
But when I see this girl (I’ll call her ‘wonder-girl’), and we pass by so closely, and smile, and for a nanosecond we can hear one another’s respiratory stress, we are united as one driven force.
This is what I live for.
Thank you, wonder-girl.

The Dog House
Life takes turns. Merciless, unpredictable, poorly banked and unpaved turns. Today I wasn’t running on auto-pilot, but attempting to land a burning bomber with no landing gear on an aircraft carrier.
My car, which was having the fuel tank replaced, due to a voluntary recall, was scheduled to be ready by 9am this morning. After work, I would be picked up, and then taken to the dealership, wherein I would then drive to my swim workout.
The car is eleven years old, and corroded so extensively, the dealer claimed that it needed spare parts, because the new tank could not be safely re-mounted. I am Jack’s quiet, unyielding anger.
Then my father reminded me, that I had completely forgotten Mother’s day over a week ago. This is when I turn my head, absolutely demoralized, and walk to the dog house. It hurts.
So I get home, and go for a ride on my bike with only 85 PSI in the rear tire, because my pump is in my car in the dealership – more fun.
I really tried hard to ride and concentrate, but just couldn’t. My mom, my car, my life, all strangling my legs to move fluidly, and toe-drag. Then I found Great Hill.
Great Hill is a long, slow grade of private residents, of 55 years and older. So I begin to climb. Somewhere between the base and the summit, I realized that my training wasn’t sound. It wasn’t balanced with life.
So tonight, I’m calling my Mom, and we’re going out to dinner at her favorite restaurant, and God willing, my car will be reading by 9am again, tomorrow.

Natural and Unnatural

Today I ran this morning, intent on going easy, and then following up with some aqua-therapy (swim) after work to ease my legs/body after the heavy brick yesterday.
Then the weather got nice. So nice, I cancelled the chlorinated chronicles of this triathlete, and opted for a ride.
I realized on the ride, that man was not built to remain sedentary. To sit in an office, to stare at an artificial light, in an artificial setting, eating artificial fruit.
Man and woman, were meant to enjoy each other's company, watch sunsets, drink and run and play, and never stop living like a child.
I never want to grow up. I want to be a kid forever.
Forever Run...Forever Tri.

Great workout this morning. Rather, a break through workout.
Rode smoothly and consistently throughout 10 towns in the north shore area of Massachusetts, meeting hydration and nutrient requirements, while sustaining a steady speed of 29.8 km/hr. At one point, I surpassed “Go-Kart Speed” J (52 km/hr)
Concluded the ride by a 25 minute brick-run, and felt so great. It occurred to me, that the distance, the time, and the very nature of endurance is what I love so. Speed is secondary. Distance is primary.
Admittedly, only one shower feels eerily awkward, given my past few weeks of training. I have noted, that my endurance levels are increasing, as is my confidence levels, and I am still injury free, and happy!
I recently left coolrunning.com for logging purposes, and switched to trifuel.com I love it. Great graphical analysis, insight from other triathletes, and just a great user interface (is that the right term?)
Good night all, and happy training!

I Believe In Cross Country.

Breakthrough workouts are multi-faceted. They aren’t always when we expect them to come. Honestly, I find them to be nearly always serendipitous. Today was a break through for me.
I can honestly make the claim, that my love is pure. I love mud, puddles, and fresh air. A meal now and then to keep me going, and the open woods.
Today’s breakthrough was essentially the result of persevering through 20 minutes of empty legs, aiming to be between 140 and 150 beats per minute, after cycling this morning for 21 miles at 29.8k/hr. I was at 131 beats per minute, thirteen minutes into the run. Then I took a turn I have never taken in my running life, because it had a rusty old fence in front of it.
Then I sank into a mud hole, pulled myself out, sank into another, and another, and yet another, until hitting firm earth. I looked at my heart rate: 161 as if I was not even trying. Went as far as the trail went, turned around, and went through all the mud all over again.
So I’m sitting here now, sipping water, crusted in dried mud, heart rate monitor still on, and never really want to wash it off. George Sheehan once wrote “Honest sweat has no odor”.
At the beginning of the run, I was seriously considering truncating it: Making it 3 miles instead of a 6 miler. The legs were dead, the thirst was great, the target was no where to be seen. Then I found nature. I found my primal instinct. I began to believe this run would make both it and myself into something anew. I began to believe that it could fundamentally change my being and my biology. Unequivocally, I know that I Believe In Cross Country.

Morning Runner Political operative by mid morning. Triathlete by afternoon. Political operative until my eyes close.
This is my life. Or at least, as it was today.
I went out for my run today, went longer than anticipated, and because my town is literally an island at this point, and the only way to enter/exit the town is from the west. I ran west. It was like running on a highway, placed into a pasture. 9.3 miles at 1 hour and 11 minutes. My PR for this distance loop is 1 hour 9 minutes. Not bad for smog and carbon monoxide.
So I go to work, and return back. Now I’m changed into cycling gear, and training for 45 consecutive minutes in the aero position, with my new profile design water bottle. I nearly thought the straw would impale my laranyx, but I managed to utilize it while in aero position. Imagine: not disrupting any aerodynamic drag to hydrate. Genius, I tell you. I was in such delight, I took a picture of the empty road, Route 133 West, which I was flying blissfully upon. Above it can be seen.
I look at my schedule, and begin to fully comprehend through empirical knowledge, the ideas, life, and schedule of a triathlete, I realize that I am accomplishing more in a period of time which I formerly thought was infatuated with dilemmas, concerns, and uncertainty.
The void has been filled.

Lifestyle. It is the defnition of our lives, our methodology, and our biology. We do certain things by instinct, others by choice. Triathlon has begun to blur the lines between the two.
I was listening to some family members the other night, literally coordinating their efforts to watch a television program. This, to me, seemed so counter-intuitive, so antithetical to my lifestyle, I was just set aghast.
Moreover, they began to become enfuriated at one another, when they discovered that their 30 minute "early-arrival" was in fact "30 minutes after the sacred 'start-time'" Again, flabbergasted.
Albeit, I get irritated when I miss a workout, my training mates are late, or even don't show up. (You don't want to look me in the eye the next day if this is you)
But I just find it awesome, in the sheer defition of the word, that one becomes visibly and chronically irritated for missing a television program.
Don't stop moving.

Race Report: Big Lake Half Marathon

Hi All-
My mom is so great. She got up this morning with me at 6am, to drive 90 minutes to Alton Bay, NH to watch and cheer me on in a deluge of rainstorms.
May I take this moment, to congratulate all finishers of this year's race, as it was an utter fight. We all became saturated, and we encouraged one another to persevere through the elements; We were all inherently insane today, and we all finished. I love you guys.
I faced an enormous muscle spasm at mile 5.4, due to the crowned nature of the highway we were running on. It came in the form of my right lateral hip flexor
It abaded, although not until the final 3 miles, did I really find my rhythm.
I took my first ice bath last evening, for about 12 minutes or so, and nearly bit through the binding on the hardcover book I was intending to read, the pain was so great.
The first clear and noticeable presence in the run, was the soreness, and laziness of my quadriceps. Just felt relatively tired, and unresponsive.
I progressed, and as aforementioned, I really opened up in the last few miles. Felt so great, like on air.
I am in question: Why do I feel the most fluid, at what should be the most taxing part of the race course?
I don't know the answer. But I do know, that despite these conditions, we all persevered, and it is a testament to this great sport of endurance.
Dry well my friends.

I am not a brick. I am not a dead weighted, slow moving lump of flesh. I am an efficient, swimming propeller.
Today I could not believe my endurance in the pool. I set out to swim 1,000 meters.
I did it, without stopping, albeit doing the backstroke at the 600m mark for 100m. I know to some, this may not sound incredible, or even a benchmark. But this is the longest I have swum consistently in several months.
Moreover, when I did the backstroke, I felt unafraid of my face going under water, involuntarily.
Tomorrow is the Big Lake Half Marathon, arguably my favorite race of the year. Heavy rains are predicted, similar to last years race.
My goal is to crack 1:40:00, given my PR is 1:43. I don't have a particular race plan to date, but I want to break through.
Employ, execute, and prevail.

Endurance-Hope-Courage

This post really isn’t about me, or my training. It is about something larger.
I did my run this morning, and it went well. Then I did my first hill workout on the bike, in the pouring rain. It was a great experience, and I realize wholly why one is advised to only perform these workouts twice per week, maximum. I felt strong, and smiled as the rain tap-danced on my lips. Then I took my last final exam as an undergraduate junior, packed, and came home. I was already stressed, and then I sat down with my mother.
She told me her best friend, has breast cancer. We know very little of it now, aside from the fact, that it is malignant. After the discussion of an hour or so, I went for a “release run”. I felt good, given that this was my third workout of the day. But granted, my mind wasn’t really on running, which paradoxically, was the point of the run.
I returned from the run, sweating heavily, filled with emotion, and the need to hydrate. Upon walking inside, the daughter of my mom’s friend, a fellow runner and marathoner for Team in Training, was at the house, and we continued to discuss it.
I learned three very important details from today:

1.) No matter in what condition (physical or mental) one exhibits, they are always susceptible to certain illnesses, irrespective of age and/or health.
2.) Marathon runners possess an uncanny degree of concentration, discipline, and pain threshold. This was my friend, the daughter of the mother who has breast cancer, who displays a clear and definitive direction towards directing her three older siblings, in addressing and seeking a solution to aiding their mother.
3.) Certain things are undeniable. It is most prudent, to address these items individually, one second at a time. Multi-sport is eerily similar. It is a metaphor for life’s most puzzling problems, most daunting concerns, and the longest of days. For when one swims, they must conserve to ride. And when one rides, they must conserve to run. And when one runs, one must focus and concentrate every last ounce of intuition and energy towards completion. Runners, like myself, must learn to digress, and treat multisport as its own entity. Not merely an aggregation to marathon training.

I have begun wearing a bracelet, stating the three goals of breast cancer patients and their families: Endurance + Hope + Courage
It is my hope that together, both our families can overcome this enigma.

I am, at present, a living paradox.
I am, by my past a distance runner. It's kind of like that Gatorade Endurance Formula clip: "If you use the worlds 'Only' and '10k' in that order"
I'm not saying that as an inflating statement, but as a substantive, demonstrable fact. My body, by nature and fundamental structure at this point, doesn't like to go fast initially, but can get down to a 7:00 mile by the end of a 10 miler, and can sustain it.
So now that I've crossed the line into of XC for my senior year of college, and doing a time trial, and being last, I am not offended, nor embarrased. For this is something new to me. A new realm of learning, and infinite possibility.
I have been told that "All you need to do to get faster is reduce the distance". This to me, with due respect, is seemingly incoherent. I do know that when I taper for a marathon, I gain speed, lose humor, and begin to ache.
So as I continue on this journey, I seek to solve this puzzle, one lap at a time.

Yes. It is a two-step process: Fuel up, utilize. Everything else is ancillary: Recover, repeat as necessary.
Since beginning to increase cycling mileage, in aggregation with my running miles, my fuel tank has been seemingly on "Low". I don't mean that I don't have energy for my workouts, but I really am beginning to question the efficiency of my engine.
He should have made me with a regulated ratio of miles to gallon, or miles to gram. Maybe Lance is right, by weighing his food. We measure how many gallons of gasoline we put into our vehicles, why not measure how many calories we put into OUR engine? Simply put, my fuel demands are exorbitant. At times, its utterly comical.
At the same time, it has become fascinating, to witness how the human body works, and what it is capable of when fueled properly. I am High Octane.

"Unholy Terror"

Man was not intended to live in the waves. He is by nature a land mammal, and his most natural movements are to walk, and when needs be run. It's inalienable. We were programmed to run after our prey, to run from the elements. We were not spawned in the ocean, but rather on land. We learned to crawl, then to walk, and now, to run. Everything else is a matter of initiative.
As I sit here, planning my training schedule in the pool, and hopefully later in the water, and also in the bike, as a runner, I cannot help but thinking of everything revolving around the run.
I recall my first Tri last August, dawning a wet suit, at 4:58pm, with a 5:00pm gun start. It was dark late afternoon, with the threat of thunderstorm clouds overhed. Then came that sound. The siren, and utter chaos erupted. Before I knew it, everything i learned about swimming was abolished. I was merely trying to survive among the waves. Yet, as things began, I realized I was gasping for air, but it was through a smile.
When I come back to the water this year, I know something greater than me is calling me into it. I don't know why, but for some reason, something is right about it, something primal.
Never stop seeking.

Today it was seventy-seven degrees during on my ride. I was a human bug deflector on Route 114, a long, open highway, with opposite direction traffic (two lanes).
I was working on keeping the big chain ring engaged, thus gaining greater speed without raising my hear rate. The only true problem, was in my muscular structure.
See, as a distance runner, I don’t have the strongest quadriceps, they do their job, and I take complaints from them more often than not. Either way, I do my best.
At about mile 21 or so, I realized that I really wanted to get off the bike and just go for a run. In other words, cease the cycling and opt for a brick. As aforewarned, my training posseses a degree of inherent insanity.
So despite the heat, the melted bugs, and the fact that I had run earlier in the day, I still felt obliged to get off and run that short 800 meter bike guidance course I set up around my building. And it paradoxically, the run was the best part of the ride.

The Hardest Part of The Day

It often seems, at least as of late, that the most difficult time of day is getting up. Its not because I utter inside “Oh my God, is it really this time already?!” But its more of a time of ultimate challenge and undeniable pursuit.
For when I open my eyes, I already see myself running. Its eerie at times, but sometimes I wake up and go through my run in a quasi-dream like state. So once I do get up, bite the proverbial bullet, and start shuffling, I know I’m doing the best thing I can.
Often times in endurance sport, this topic arises, and often times respondents don’t really know what keeps them moving.
So this morning I ran, and ran better than I have in the last few days. Then, in about 75 degree heat, (so great) I went for an aero bar training ride. Lots of fun. Got in some light weight work, and a bike guidance brick at the end. So all in all, its been a good day, and that challenge that came this morning? It has been met, yet again.

Anger and cake are rarely used in the associative clause. Moreover, they have the likelihood of being polars of each other. Well, for the sake of this post, let us assume I'm feeling unique.
Dave Scott once said that during Triathlon training, there are days when you feel like broccoli, and days when you feel like twinkies. He, nor I, can explain why. Today's post was brought-to-you by the following four words: Coconut frosted chocolate cake.
Last night, someone baked me a cake of this nature, and left it for me. I don't know who, or when, but I woke up this morning to find it by my door. Don't ask me why, but it tastes exquisite. Not in the sense of decadence, or guilt-laden desserts, but in the alleving taste of Gatorade after running 10 miles in 80 degree heat. So for as long as this dark creature exists before me, it will be my friend.
Someone once said that anger is a utilitarian tool in Triathlon. One's ability to channel this primal emotion, can enhance and and at times, maximize one's performance. So when I tell myself "Get T'd Off", I'm not really angry in the societal definition of the word, but rather I'm resorting to a primal means of propulsion.
On my ride today, though it was only about 20 or so miles, there were many hills that by their nature, frustrated me. So I got t'd off.
I attacked 4 times, each attaining a heart rate of higher than 170 bpms. The only reason I find this significant, is due to the fact that I've never really "attacked" like I did today. I widened my eyes, pulled up on the handlebars, and really moved foward. Succinctly put, as I sit here now, I am no longer angry. I am driven.