17 weeks and Fun Fundraising

The miles are longer.  Base runs are 6 miles and ticking upwards.  The bike training forces me to discover hidden gems near where I live.  The fatigue is more intense, the grind more present.  I find now that I enjoy mile 4 on the run more than I enjoy mile 1.

But through that, I see breakthroughs.  I feel the weight of the task ahead settling in, reminding me that I will need to grind miles.  I understand that I will watch the sun rise and set in one day of continual racing.  I am not afraid of that.  Wearing that badge is as crucial as taking each step.  We should all be afraid of the training, not the race.

We are also at a fundraising goal time period.  By the 17th, I need to have half of my amount raised.  Since I am a little short, I decided to do something fun.  I divided up individual donations in three categories: 0-75 dollars, 76-150 dollars, and 150+ dollars.  Each of those categories has a prize attached to it if you are the highest donation in that category. 

For 0-75, if you are the highest donation, you receive a bottle of Capiaux Pinot Noir (retail 50-75).  For the 76-150 dollar range, if you are the highest bidder, you get a bottle of Paradigm Merlot (retail 70-120).  For the 150+, if you are the highest bidder, you get a bottle of 2011 Opus One (retail 200-250).  All of these wines come from my personal collection and are fantastic bottles to enjoy.  If there are two bidders or more with the same high bid, I will randomly draw to see who gets the prize.  Also, I will ship this wine anywhere in the United States (for those friends who don't live in California).

For wine drinkers, this is a super way to donate to a great cause, and possibly get that excellent wine you have always wanted to try.  Also, I have a very, very special gift if anybody donates 500+.  However, that person will need to be in California at some point to earn the gift.

Happy racing! (And donating!)

Hiccups, Miles and Obstacles

Hiccups.  Obstacles.  Pains.  Setbacks.

These are all words triathletes loath.  In a perfect world there would be no pain, our footsteps soft on a grassy path.  Our weather would be 75 degrees, a tailwind on every bike ride, and no direct sun in our faces.

Alas, the world isn’t perfect for triathletes.

Ergo, we find ourselves training in imperfection, adjusting and adapting for race day, ignoring ails and pushing past the tweaks and pulls.  Some may say that character is built from such endeavors.  I tend to not be so fatalistic and believe that these things are just reality.  Training and racing in reality is more honest than believing your race season will be perfect.

My most recent hiccup comes in the form of a tooth.  Yes, a tooth.  This week’s training has been suspended due to my dysfunctional mouth. 

On Monday I woke up with some strange pain in my gum and it was oddly swollen.  I am not one to be a to be a martyr to pain, so I decided to go see my dentist.  She stated that I had an infection (really?) and put me on some antibiotics.  I don’t normally take antibiotics.  When I do, the digestive response I have is, well, revolutionary.  My gut bacteria don’t like to be killed and when they are, they let me know.

I can train through a lot.  If I have the flu, a cold, fatigue, soreness, etc., I will find my way outside and just cut down on the speed and effort a little.  Often I feel that training while sick helps me.  However, I will not (and cannot) train with digestive issues.  That just stops me.  As luck would have it my tooth, which led to my antibiotics, led me to not training with such a gastrointestinal reaction.

Is it a setback?  No.  I was already starting to feel out the long miles.  I was already starting to bury myself in the grind.    It is still early.  I am still finding my way.

One Week in and Sacrifices

Here we are, one week in of my 29 week training plan for IM Vineman.  Due to scheduling conflicts, I did miss one bike ride last week.  My concern isn’t too high, but I do need to keep the will intact, especially since accepting missed workouts can cascade.

I am fascinated by distance at this point.  On Monday, I ran 5 miles and yesterday I ran 3 and biked 18.  The workouts were tough enough, and I did feel the fatigue after.  However, those tiny little microcosms are not indicative of the bigger story.  The distances will increase, the time will get greater.  Eventually the body will adjust.

I often describe what triathletes do as similar to racecar drivers.  You and me would not have the ability to take a racecar to its top speed because our bodies will revolt against that feeling.  But to the drivers, that feels okay.  Their bodies have accepted that feeling, the muscle memories are in place.  Triathlon is the same way.  One day you train at 3 miles of running; months later it is 17 miles.  You accomplish by being okay with the feeling.  Now, it seems so far away.  Then, it will feel normal.

Triathletes, especially the iron-distance lunatics, ultimately sacrifice a fairly normal life for one that closely resembles a world of giving up time, food that tastes fantastic, more time, and things done with people.  It is a lonely existence of solo miles, alone time in the pool, road, and gym.  You stop going out, you stop hanging out.  You are the proverbial person in the viral video “Conversation with an Ironman”.

People close to you also sacrifice.  Before the training, they probably valued your time.  They valued your presence.  Now, they see less of you, they plan vacations around your race, and they seem almost to be yielding to your every whim.  They understand sacrifice.  They are supportive to the end.  They watch your very selfish approach, your seemingly conceited focus on the finish line, and they support it.  They hear your endless drivel regarding training, bike fit, wetsuits and body glide, and they accept it.

For this I owe a great thanks to my wife, son, parents and friends who watch me assault the pavement.  You will be my motivation near the finish line, my waiting support crew, my amazing supporters.  I cannot wait until I crash across the finish line to see you waiting, somehow grinding out the day as I traipse across the Sonoma Valley.