This weekend I am visiting the lovely city of Chattanooga, Tennessee. I have been given the opportunity to come race the BMW Chattanooga Waterfront Triathlon on Sunday, and I am looking very much forward to the event.
So far my visit has been very nice. I have been given a short tour of the area, and will be heading downtown for some dinner a bit later. It's always great to see a new place, to race a new event, and to meet some new folks.
I also look forward to catching up with some of my Tennessee friends, including those who came to my talk up in Nashville back in January.
If you're in the area, please swing by the expo tomorrow around 2:00PM to say hello!
Friday, July 11, 2008
Friday, July 04, 2008
After the Ironman
It's been nearly two weeks since the race up in Coeur d'Alene, and life in the Lovato family has continued full-swing. Amanda proved to be top Vato this month, bringing home the overall victor's trophy, and ensuing paycheck, after winning the Spirit of Morgantown half iron out in West Virginia.
I, on the other hand, resorted to my second profession as dog walker extraordinaire. Luna and Blue were overjoyed to have me in recovery mode, as it added up to several great dog walks in the Boulder foothills. After five days of complete inactivity (minus aforementioned dog walks), I ventured out for an easy spin last Saturday. The legs were feeling pretty good, and the energy levels were coming back around. A short swim and short run topped off my training for the week/ weekend, and next thing I knew Monday had arrived.
Week two after an Ironman is not quite as fun as week one. The Ironman Finisher Appetite (IFA) tends to wane after five or six days, and the ability and desire to eat everything and anything tapers off. IFA is actually one of my favorite things. If I regret the order I placed at a restaurant, or if I made the wrong meal in my kitchen, all I have to do is wait an hour or so and I'm hungry all over again.
Week two is when the desire to train will normally creep back into the picture, but the ability to train is maybe not quite there yet. The energy levels have a lot to do with that, and mine took about nine days to get back to par.
Week two can be very indicative of how hard I raced. A couple of years ago, after my fastest Ironman race to date, I was still unable to get going in week two. I felt some residual soreness in the legs, and my desire to move was still missing.
Week two this time around has been pretty good. I know I raced hard up in Idaho, but to be surviving the final half marathon, as opposed to really pushing it, really gave me a bit of help on the recovery side of things.
Talking to my Ironman Yoda last night, I inquired as to how I should approach this next ten days before I toe the line at the Chattanooga Waterfront Triathlon, which is an Olympic Distance race. With only three weeks between CdA and Chattanooga, I did not know how to best maximize the time. The suggestion from Yoda: do a 5K running race.
Having heard about an event sponsored by a local brewery, one in which BEER is the prize, I thought I'd take the suggestion and jump in to the race. Fortunately for me, it was not a 5k, but rather a 4k, in honor of the Fourth.
I say fortunately for me because jumping back into the short distance race scene meant that I was about to blow out the pipes, and blowing out the pipes often means blowing up. This meant I would be blowing up one kilometer closer to the finish line!
Avery Brewing offered the winner his weight in BEER. They offered a case of BEER to age group winners. And they offered two sixers to each person who finished second in his or her age group. Referencing the above photo, you will see that I finished second in my age group.
The details are a bit fuzzy; perhaps they are clouded by the lactic acid that moved into my brain, making their way up from my arm muscles (which none of the others in front of me seemed to have).
What I do remember is the first mile split reading 4:55. Next thing I remember thinking was that I was glad I only had a mile and a half to go. Somewhere around 2 kilometers into the race, I felt the arms get heavy; the legs were still moving. Turnaround number two meant I had almost a mile to go. A whole mile!? I resisted the urge to rock my head back, chin up, and shoulders back. Mile two was a more conservative 5:20. I had regrouped a bit, and was saving for that final 400 meters. With a quarter mile to go, I kicked into another gear.
To be totally honest, I was very pleased to find that I had that fifth gear. I had not used it in several weeks, or months. I held onto fifth place, and as I previously mentioned, second in my age group.
And now I will drink my reward.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Ironman Coeur d'Alene: the US Championship
I went up to Idaho with an incredibly relaxed and confident attitude. I had forsaken the temptation of racing an early season Ironman for the first time in four years; I had trained well in Austin for four months, before doing a shorter Ironman build in Boulder; I was rested, I was fit, and I was motivated to race. The perfect storm was brewing for my best ever race.
Prior to the race, I pointed out to Greg Welch that being fit, rested, and motivated were really only half of the things I needed to have in order to win the race. The other 50% was made up of a well executed race day. If I delivered that, I could win the race. As we all know, "if" is a pretty big word in the world of Ironman racing.
Race day started out as cool and beautiful as the weatherman had predicted. The lake was calm, and the water temperature was perfect. I don't just say this to paint a pretty picture; the water was 60 degrees, which is just cool enough to keep my lizard skin from overheating in the swim.
I opted not to take a long warm up, which is a departure from my pre-race norm. I figured I'd only start to cool of if I was in the lake too long before the start. Positioning myself at the start line, I chose not to pay attention to where anyone else was standing. I have finally learned that my best swim will come when I do what's best for me, rather than key off any of the others' actions.
Two or three strokes into the race, I found myself on Viktor's feet. He had green, I had purple (caps). He was easy to spot amongst the others in yellow. I stayed put for a couple hundred meters, enjoying a very, very comfortable start. We were barely above a float, as far as I was concerned.
As we neared the first turn buoy, I took Amanda's advice by making a surge. My normal swim strategy is to hold on for dear life, while making no sudden movements. Amanda knew I had worked hard to get my swimming back to where it was years ago, and she felt I could play some games in the water. This surge to the first turn was only the first of many little games I would play during the 2.4 miles.
Out of the turn and into the sun, I kept my surge going for several meters. I noticed that Viktor was still in tow, and the two yellows were hanging tough. Through the second buoy, I eased up, stayed the course, and returned to a comfortable pace. Nearing the beach, Viktor came back through to take the lead. In spite of my games, we were actually working well to pull one another through the course.
Exiting the water and re-entering is one my least favorite parts of a swim. Lucky for me, we were in a group of four, and Viktor make a right turn, instead of the left we were supposed to take. I gracelessly flopped back into the water, checked yellow 1 and yellow 2, noticed Viktor's slight gap, and I dropped the hammer. How much fun it is to be able to race the swim!
I tried as hard as I could to drop the trio. I went through the first buoy, and kept the pedal down. My effort was for naught, as they were all still in contact. It doesn't hurt to try, and the efforts to drop my competitors did not seem to hurt me in the least. I settled back in and saved energy for my next effort.
Rounding the turn, I made another go at dropping the yellows. I zigged left, I zagged right, I surged and I veered. Nothing worked, so I settled back into a normal pace. Again, I reveled in the fact that I was in control of my swim (and of others') for the first time in a while.
Before I end up with a novel about the first 54 minutes of my race, I had better touch on the bike race for a spell.
Starting the ride, I knew I was rested, and that I'd be strong enough to push the pace. I reeled in the guys who beat me out of transition (they beat me by a long shot). I kept the pressure on, knowing that my fitness would allow me to rebound from any blow-ups later in the game.
The splits were all in my favor as I entered the hilly and scenic parts of the race. Evans' lead was down to 2:00, to 1:45, to 1:15, and finally to 45 seconds. He informed the spotters that I should hurry up and catch him. I informed them right back that he needed to slow down so I could catch him!
The games were about to end, as Tom put his back-half strength to the test. Somewhere around mile 45, he dropped the hammer. I stayed steady knowing he was going to do this. My only hope was that I would have caught him by the time he made that move. 45 seconds was as close as I'd get to the hard charging dentist all day long. (Is it foreshadowing when I give that away, or is it just giving it away?)
As I rolled over hills, pushed through the windy flats, and collected my thoughts for the run, my strongest impression was that I was finally dialed in perfectly with my bike fit (thank you Jack and Zane!). This is a funny thing to think about, but it occurred to me nonetheless: I was so powerful in that position, and I was ready to run!
My ideal scenario coming off the bike was to have a time deficit to Tom (who I historically outrun), and a time gap on Viktor (who historically outruns me). I knew that to chase down my prey, while simultaneously being chased by a predator, would yield my best marathon to date.
I could not believe how light and fresh and speedy I felt when my legs first touched ground in transition. I had zero sign of the hobbled, post-ride stiffness that will sometimes greet us in T2. I was ready to run.
My first few miles came by with incredible ease: 6:01, 5:57, 6:10, 6:12. I made that fourth mile split with a brief stop to stretch the hamstrings. They felt a bit of a twinge toward cramping, and I wanted to be safe. Back through the next eight miles, I was effortlessly chipping away at Tom's lead. My ten mile spit was just at 1:02. His 6:30 lead off the bike was down to 3:55 by mile ten. My jock math was calculating the necessary difference of pace to erase my deficit by the finish line.
My jock math may have distracted me from what was about to happen.
Mile thirteen was about as different as it could have been from the preceding twelve. My stride shortened, my energy dipped, my intestines twisted up, and my momentum nearly halted. What I needed was a porto-potty, and I needed it soon.
The energy of the hot corner, and all that goes with it, carried me to the Honey Bucket (that is what they are named up in CdA) stationed near special needs. I jumped in, jumped out, and plugged back along to the second turn. I took note of Evans, he took note of me, and the race was still on.
To forget about Viktor during the marathon is a rare occurrence, but it's just what happened. What was going on behind me was of no more importance than what was going on in the life of Brittany Spears. I was focused on my chase.
Normally a brief stop in the little blue box takes care of everything. My return to 6:20 and 6:30 miles indicated to me that I had gotten past what was ailing me. By mile 16, I quickly concluded that was not the case. Another quick stop (to deal with the party in my pants) had me in and out of another Honey Bucket. It was Ironman racing at its finest: it's dirty, it's fast, it's hard, and there are no guarantees.
From mile 17 to mile 20, I went about as far to the dark side as I could go. My stomach would tolerate no more Power Gel or Gatorade. It didn't seem to even like water, and salt tabs were out of the question. I walked up a hill. I ran down the other side. Amanda was nearby and when I passed her, she yelled at me to dig deep, and that catching Tom was still a viable option. All I could think of was whether or not I'd make it to mile 18. I walked again, and I stopped again. This time there was nothing but a tree to hide my potty stop from the world.
Getting going again, I realized that my body needed carbs. I thought of one thing: coke. I made it to mile 19, and began my seven-mile parade, fueled by coke and water, coke and water. It seemed to settle the gut a bit, or at least it seemed not to upset it further. There was really nothing else left to evacuate from my system, so maybe I was back in the mix.
At the base of the turnaround climb, just about 20.5 miles into the marathon, Viktor came by me. "What is wrong," he uttered. I just said one word: "shit." Sorry 'bout that, but it was on my mind. My pace at that point was a full-blow Kona Shuffle, not unlike my stride that was captured in the 2000 IM Lake Placid TV footage, when Dave Scott voiced over these words: "Lovato just got passed by Cam Brown, and you just don't come back from a pass like that!"
Realizing that my walk-and-stop program had only then lost me the second spot was a bit of a mental recharge for me. No, I was not going to win, and no, I was not getting second, but yes, I was going to survive. As a matter of fact, if the coke did its thing, I was going to be able to compete again, and after all, that is what I was there to do.
A quick time check to fourth place told me that I could run my way home, and still hang onto that final podium spot. I was back in the game. I didn't feel too hot, and I didn't have more than a handful of caffeine-spiked simple sugars to work with, but I was in the game. No more walking.
I had successfully gone from racing to survival and back to racing.
Nearing the finish line, I began to feel the pull and the draw that downtown Coeur d'Alene produces on Ironman day. That community loves this event, and the event is characterized by all of their energy. They got me down Sherman Ave, and they got me to the finish line.
I wobbled and tottered a bit as I crossed the line, but it was a satisfied wobble-totter. Tom Evans had an amazing day, and Viktor was a strong second. The three of us have made up the podium two years in a row, and only one other man has won this race, outside of us. I think we all look forward to next year already.
From all races, we must take home a lesson or two or six. And in this case, I learned my lesson with the help of Robert from First Endurance. After listening to my account of the race, he promptly pointed out that my excess sodium intake was the culprit to blame for my nutritional hardships. On a day when temperatures never really got above 70 degrees, my body was in electrolyte overload. While I followed a sound calorie intake plan, my supplemental sodium intake pushed me over the edge with respect to electrolyte balance. It now is very clear that too much sodium can draw water from the blood, back it up in the small intestines, and effectively stop absorption. With no absorption of the food and liquid going in, there is only one way to empty the gut, and we've already discussed what that means. Lesson learned.
Getting to the finish line of my 21st Ironman was really only possible because of the support I had going into the event. I am thankful to have an incredible team of family, friends, and sponsors around me. They all believe in me, and they all show their belief in a tireless fashion.
Thank you to each and every one of you, and in particular, thank you to Amanda for giving me the courage to push myself before and during that great event.
Prior to the race, I pointed out to Greg Welch that being fit, rested, and motivated were really only half of the things I needed to have in order to win the race. The other 50% was made up of a well executed race day. If I delivered that, I could win the race. As we all know, "if" is a pretty big word in the world of Ironman racing.
Race day started out as cool and beautiful as the weatherman had predicted. The lake was calm, and the water temperature was perfect. I don't just say this to paint a pretty picture; the water was 60 degrees, which is just cool enough to keep my lizard skin from overheating in the swim.
I opted not to take a long warm up, which is a departure from my pre-race norm. I figured I'd only start to cool of if I was in the lake too long before the start. Positioning myself at the start line, I chose not to pay attention to where anyone else was standing. I have finally learned that my best swim will come when I do what's best for me, rather than key off any of the others' actions.
Two or three strokes into the race, I found myself on Viktor's feet. He had green, I had purple (caps). He was easy to spot amongst the others in yellow. I stayed put for a couple hundred meters, enjoying a very, very comfortable start. We were barely above a float, as far as I was concerned.
As we neared the first turn buoy, I took Amanda's advice by making a surge. My normal swim strategy is to hold on for dear life, while making no sudden movements. Amanda knew I had worked hard to get my swimming back to where it was years ago, and she felt I could play some games in the water. This surge to the first turn was only the first of many little games I would play during the 2.4 miles.
Out of the turn and into the sun, I kept my surge going for several meters. I noticed that Viktor was still in tow, and the two yellows were hanging tough. Through the second buoy, I eased up, stayed the course, and returned to a comfortable pace. Nearing the beach, Viktor came back through to take the lead. In spite of my games, we were actually working well to pull one another through the course.
Exiting the water and re-entering is one my least favorite parts of a swim. Lucky for me, we were in a group of four, and Viktor make a right turn, instead of the left we were supposed to take. I gracelessly flopped back into the water, checked yellow 1 and yellow 2, noticed Viktor's slight gap, and I dropped the hammer. How much fun it is to be able to race the swim!
I tried as hard as I could to drop the trio. I went through the first buoy, and kept the pedal down. My effort was for naught, as they were all still in contact. It doesn't hurt to try, and the efforts to drop my competitors did not seem to hurt me in the least. I settled back in and saved energy for my next effort.
Rounding the turn, I made another go at dropping the yellows. I zigged left, I zagged right, I surged and I veered. Nothing worked, so I settled back into a normal pace. Again, I reveled in the fact that I was in control of my swim (and of others') for the first time in a while.
Before I end up with a novel about the first 54 minutes of my race, I had better touch on the bike race for a spell.
Starting the ride, I knew I was rested, and that I'd be strong enough to push the pace. I reeled in the guys who beat me out of transition (they beat me by a long shot). I kept the pressure on, knowing that my fitness would allow me to rebound from any blow-ups later in the game.
The splits were all in my favor as I entered the hilly and scenic parts of the race. Evans' lead was down to 2:00, to 1:45, to 1:15, and finally to 45 seconds. He informed the spotters that I should hurry up and catch him. I informed them right back that he needed to slow down so I could catch him!
The games were about to end, as Tom put his back-half strength to the test. Somewhere around mile 45, he dropped the hammer. I stayed steady knowing he was going to do this. My only hope was that I would have caught him by the time he made that move. 45 seconds was as close as I'd get to the hard charging dentist all day long. (Is it foreshadowing when I give that away, or is it just giving it away?)
As I rolled over hills, pushed through the windy flats, and collected my thoughts for the run, my strongest impression was that I was finally dialed in perfectly with my bike fit (thank you Jack and Zane!). This is a funny thing to think about, but it occurred to me nonetheless: I was so powerful in that position, and I was ready to run!
My ideal scenario coming off the bike was to have a time deficit to Tom (who I historically outrun), and a time gap on Viktor (who historically outruns me). I knew that to chase down my prey, while simultaneously being chased by a predator, would yield my best marathon to date.
I could not believe how light and fresh and speedy I felt when my legs first touched ground in transition. I had zero sign of the hobbled, post-ride stiffness that will sometimes greet us in T2. I was ready to run.
My first few miles came by with incredible ease: 6:01, 5:57, 6:10, 6:12. I made that fourth mile split with a brief stop to stretch the hamstrings. They felt a bit of a twinge toward cramping, and I wanted to be safe. Back through the next eight miles, I was effortlessly chipping away at Tom's lead. My ten mile spit was just at 1:02. His 6:30 lead off the bike was down to 3:55 by mile ten. My jock math was calculating the necessary difference of pace to erase my deficit by the finish line.
My jock math may have distracted me from what was about to happen.
Mile thirteen was about as different as it could have been from the preceding twelve. My stride shortened, my energy dipped, my intestines twisted up, and my momentum nearly halted. What I needed was a porto-potty, and I needed it soon.
The energy of the hot corner, and all that goes with it, carried me to the Honey Bucket (that is what they are named up in CdA) stationed near special needs. I jumped in, jumped out, and plugged back along to the second turn. I took note of Evans, he took note of me, and the race was still on.
To forget about Viktor during the marathon is a rare occurrence, but it's just what happened. What was going on behind me was of no more importance than what was going on in the life of Brittany Spears. I was focused on my chase.
Normally a brief stop in the little blue box takes care of everything. My return to 6:20 and 6:30 miles indicated to me that I had gotten past what was ailing me. By mile 16, I quickly concluded that was not the case. Another quick stop (to deal with the party in my pants) had me in and out of another Honey Bucket. It was Ironman racing at its finest: it's dirty, it's fast, it's hard, and there are no guarantees.
From mile 17 to mile 20, I went about as far to the dark side as I could go. My stomach would tolerate no more Power Gel or Gatorade. It didn't seem to even like water, and salt tabs were out of the question. I walked up a hill. I ran down the other side. Amanda was nearby and when I passed her, she yelled at me to dig deep, and that catching Tom was still a viable option. All I could think of was whether or not I'd make it to mile 18. I walked again, and I stopped again. This time there was nothing but a tree to hide my potty stop from the world.
Getting going again, I realized that my body needed carbs. I thought of one thing: coke. I made it to mile 19, and began my seven-mile parade, fueled by coke and water, coke and water. It seemed to settle the gut a bit, or at least it seemed not to upset it further. There was really nothing else left to evacuate from my system, so maybe I was back in the mix.
At the base of the turnaround climb, just about 20.5 miles into the marathon, Viktor came by me. "What is wrong," he uttered. I just said one word: "shit." Sorry 'bout that, but it was on my mind. My pace at that point was a full-blow Kona Shuffle, not unlike my stride that was captured in the 2000 IM Lake Placid TV footage, when Dave Scott voiced over these words: "Lovato just got passed by Cam Brown, and you just don't come back from a pass like that!"
Realizing that my walk-and-stop program had only then lost me the second spot was a bit of a mental recharge for me. No, I was not going to win, and no, I was not getting second, but yes, I was going to survive. As a matter of fact, if the coke did its thing, I was going to be able to compete again, and after all, that is what I was there to do.
A quick time check to fourth place told me that I could run my way home, and still hang onto that final podium spot. I was back in the game. I didn't feel too hot, and I didn't have more than a handful of caffeine-spiked simple sugars to work with, but I was in the game. No more walking.
I had successfully gone from racing to survival and back to racing.
Nearing the finish line, I began to feel the pull and the draw that downtown Coeur d'Alene produces on Ironman day. That community loves this event, and the event is characterized by all of their energy. They got me down Sherman Ave, and they got me to the finish line.
I wobbled and tottered a bit as I crossed the line, but it was a satisfied wobble-totter. Tom Evans had an amazing day, and Viktor was a strong second. The three of us have made up the podium two years in a row, and only one other man has won this race, outside of us. I think we all look forward to next year already.
From all races, we must take home a lesson or two or six. And in this case, I learned my lesson with the help of Robert from First Endurance. After listening to my account of the race, he promptly pointed out that my excess sodium intake was the culprit to blame for my nutritional hardships. On a day when temperatures never really got above 70 degrees, my body was in electrolyte overload. While I followed a sound calorie intake plan, my supplemental sodium intake pushed me over the edge with respect to electrolyte balance. It now is very clear that too much sodium can draw water from the blood, back it up in the small intestines, and effectively stop absorption. With no absorption of the food and liquid going in, there is only one way to empty the gut, and we've already discussed what that means. Lesson learned.
Getting to the finish line of my 21st Ironman was really only possible because of the support I had going into the event. I am thankful to have an incredible team of family, friends, and sponsors around me. They all believe in me, and they all show their belief in a tireless fashion.
Thank you to each and every one of you, and in particular, thank you to Amanda for giving me the courage to push myself before and during that great event.
Friday, June 20, 2008
Friday, June 13, 2008
Help Me Pick!
I just received my race outfits for Ironman Coeur d'Alene. Please help me pick the perfect SPLISH bottoms to go with one of my Saucony tops.
Thanks to the generous folks at SPLISH for setting me up with some winning designs.
Yes, I stole this blog idea from Amanda.
Sunday, June 08, 2008
Best Wife Ever
Of those five hundred of you who read that blog, how many of you really think you know Amanda? I wonder. I thought, just for kicks, that I would share a few thoughts about my wife, so that you, the careful reader, can understand a bit more about how she ticks.
Yes, she is a pretty open person. She talks about her poop. She talks about her friends. She talks about her enemies, pet peeves, favorite things, swim suits, and a bit more about her poop. There are so many incredibly interesting topics inside the head of AGL that she may never have time to post them all on her blog. But she will damn sure try.
Even though she takes time to write about just about everything, I still think the vast majority of her readers don't know just how great a person she really is, so I will share her with you.
Amanda is the one of the most caring, giving and loving people I have ever met. She talks about how she has older child syndrome, but she does not let on that the syndrome has made her a sweet and generous caregiver.
She talks about how anal she is, but she doesn't let on that she is one of the most organized, detail-oriented, task-driven people I know.
A rant from Amanda is just that: a rant. She calls out people's flaws, she points out injustices and rude occurrences, but she does not ever mean to hurt any one's feelings. She truly sees her rant as a way to get things off her chest. Rather than let it fester inside forever, she let's it go, and on some occasions the subject of the rant could take the opportunity to learn a bit about him or herself.
One of Amanda's greatest strengths is that she handles criticism very well. She knows she has room to improve in many aspects of her life. She takes feedback and uses it constructively to make herself a better person. This is a rare trait, perhaps more rare than you think.
Amanda can tell someone she is sorry, and that she was wrong. Sadly, there are more folks in this world who are incapable of doing just that, even if they could stop an argument, a fight or even a war.
Amanda is the one of the most sensitive people I know. She may appear to have a tough skin, but inside she takes things to heart.
Amanda is my Domestic Goddess. For proof I took this photo the other night after a long training day. She prepared my dinner, cleaned my dishes, and made me comfortable and happy.
Amanda is my inspiration. When dedicated to realizing a goal, nothing gets in her way. She follows the path she sets without wavering, and she does so without being late.
The only thing Amanda loves more than her dogs is me, and I love that.
Amanda is my best friend, and I have gotten to know her better each and every day.
Monday, May 19, 2008
I'm Back!
What the heck happened to me and my blog for the past five+ weeks?!? Same old story, I suppose: I have been traveling, racing, training, working, walking the dogs, eating, sleeping, and hanging out with Amanda. It's taken all my time!
Somehow it's now May, we're back in Boulder, and I am faced with providing a summary of events, so as not to skip over everything that has happened since my last post.
After Ironman Arizona, I got to enjoy a couple more weeks down in Austin. Amanda and I had a really great time there, and the final weeks were spent soaking up the final bits of sea level breathing before returning to oxygen-starved Boulder.
At the end of my stay in Texas, I enjoyed another great throwback weekend with my good friend, Todd Gerlach, aka the Gerlachness Monster, or the Buffalo. We spotted an opportunity on the race calendar to bring back a few memories out on the West Texas Plains.
Although the name has changed from Strutters to Striders, Jack and Ester Weiss' Ironhead Production long course duathlon has not changed a bit. It seemed like only yesterday when Jon Hill, Todd and others of the Austin crew were heading out to San Angelo for the first time.
Returning to Sanangelo, as it's spoken, was a blast. The scene of my first overal victory in a multisport event, the race's famous dirt road from hell was every bit as challenging as it was in the mid-nineties.
After the race, the dogs and I headed North and West to Albuquerque for a few days with my mom (and their grandma). We stayed there for three days, which gave us enough time to catch up with Mom, train a bit, and eat a good dose of New Mexico Green Chile.
I got comfy in Boulder for two nights after the Albuquerque stay. My next engagement was with the Multisports.com Ironman Coeur d'Alene camp up in Idaho. I love these camps as they are a great way to train the race course, hang out with a fun group of athletes, and to share a bit of knowledge and experience with thirty or so folks training for next month's race. Plus, it's always fun to laugh at Paul Huddle's jokes, and to catch up with Paula Newby.
Two more nights in Boulder were followed by a trip to St. Croix for the 70.3 race. This is one of the greatest races around, and it's in great part because of the relationship we have formed down there with our host family. The Isherwoods have been kind enough to take us into their home for six of the last eight years. We love the challenge of the race course, the level of competition, and certainly, the hospitality of our family away from home!
Both Amanda and I had strong showings in the race. We each managed a PR for that event, and we found that our training has gotten us to a good early-season level of fitness. To share the gory details of the race report right now would be time consuming, so I'll promise to post those thoughts at a slightly later time.
After STX, Amanda and I returned to Boulder for good. Although she is currently out of town, we're both really here now. Really. We had a great spring/ winter in Austin, and now we're back in BCO for the duration. It's finally stopped snowing (sorry to all of our Colorado buddies who suffered through it all), and the temps are starting to warm right up.
I'm about five weeks away from my next big race: Ironman Coeur d'Alene. I could not be more excited to return to one of my favorite race venues. I'm feeling fit and motivated to have a strong day.
Phew! I feel I can take a breath now. I hate to leave out the scintillating details of all the goings on, but I can now get back up to speed with current updates. Or is that what I say every time???
Thanks for checking in!
Somehow it's now May, we're back in Boulder, and I am faced with providing a summary of events, so as not to skip over everything that has happened since my last post.
After Ironman Arizona, I got to enjoy a couple more weeks down in Austin. Amanda and I had a really great time there, and the final weeks were spent soaking up the final bits of sea level breathing before returning to oxygen-starved Boulder.
At the end of my stay in Texas, I enjoyed another great throwback weekend with my good friend, Todd Gerlach, aka the Gerlachness Monster, or the Buffalo. We spotted an opportunity on the race calendar to bring back a few memories out on the West Texas Plains.
Although the name has changed from Strutters to Striders, Jack and Ester Weiss' Ironhead Production long course duathlon has not changed a bit. It seemed like only yesterday when Jon Hill, Todd and others of the Austin crew were heading out to San Angelo for the first time.
Returning to Sanangelo, as it's spoken, was a blast. The scene of my first overal victory in a multisport event, the race's famous dirt road from hell was every bit as challenging as it was in the mid-nineties.
After the race, the dogs and I headed North and West to Albuquerque for a few days with my mom (and their grandma). We stayed there for three days, which gave us enough time to catch up with Mom, train a bit, and eat a good dose of New Mexico Green Chile.
I got comfy in Boulder for two nights after the Albuquerque stay. My next engagement was with the Multisports.com Ironman Coeur d'Alene camp up in Idaho. I love these camps as they are a great way to train the race course, hang out with a fun group of athletes, and to share a bit of knowledge and experience with thirty or so folks training for next month's race. Plus, it's always fun to laugh at Paul Huddle's jokes, and to catch up with Paula Newby.
Two more nights in Boulder were followed by a trip to St. Croix for the 70.3 race. This is one of the greatest races around, and it's in great part because of the relationship we have formed down there with our host family. The Isherwoods have been kind enough to take us into their home for six of the last eight years. We love the challenge of the race course, the level of competition, and certainly, the hospitality of our family away from home!
Both Amanda and I had strong showings in the race. We each managed a PR for that event, and we found that our training has gotten us to a good early-season level of fitness. To share the gory details of the race report right now would be time consuming, so I'll promise to post those thoughts at a slightly later time.
After STX, Amanda and I returned to Boulder for good. Although she is currently out of town, we're both really here now. Really. We had a great spring/ winter in Austin, and now we're back in BCO for the duration. It's finally stopped snowing (sorry to all of our Colorado buddies who suffered through it all), and the temps are starting to warm right up.
I'm about five weeks away from my next big race: Ironman Coeur d'Alene. I could not be more excited to return to one of my favorite race venues. I'm feeling fit and motivated to have a strong day.
Phew! I feel I can take a breath now. I hate to leave out the scintillating details of all the goings on, but I can now get back up to speed with current updates. Or is that what I say every time???
Thanks for checking in!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
The Sidelines at IM Arizona
I've been meaning to write a long and meaningful post about why I decided not to race Ironman Arizona this year, but my blog habits got the better of me. (Not to be confused with the blog hobbits, who have asked me to get to writing.) What I mean is that I ran out of time to post my thoughts.
Now I'm feeling a sense of semi-urgency to announce that I will not be racing this year's IM Arizona... on Sunday. I chose to do one this spring, and that race will be IM Coeur d'Alene. I may someday get around to sharing the lengthy reason why not, but for now suffice it to say that I'm happily on the sidelines of this event.
I'll be here cheering for my friends (James and Terra, amongst many others), and I'll be doing some work for the event (commentating and hosting sponsors).
I appreciate all the well-wishing; I love the good luck notes; and I am sorry to not be out there battling it out with the rest of you to another sub-seventeen finish.
Good luck to all of you, and thanks for the support!
Now I'm feeling a sense of semi-urgency to announce that I will not be racing this year's IM Arizona... on Sunday. I chose to do one this spring, and that race will be IM Coeur d'Alene. I may someday get around to sharing the lengthy reason why not, but for now suffice it to say that I'm happily on the sidelines of this event.
I'll be here cheering for my friends (James and Terra, amongst many others), and I'll be doing some work for the event (commentating and hosting sponsors).
I appreciate all the well-wishing; I love the good luck notes; and I am sorry to not be out there battling it out with the rest of you to another sub-seventeen finish.
Good luck to all of you, and thanks for the support!
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Lonestar Sprint Triathlon
In some ways, I felt like I was going back in time about fifteen or sixteen years. I was traveling across the large state of Texas, en route to a sprint triathlon; my bike was on the roof, collecting bugs; and I was enjoying the company of a good friend, as we admired the wildflowers on the sides of the highway. It was just awesome.
Almost a week ago (I'm slow to update, as usual), Amanda and I headed down to Galveston Island for the Lonestar Tri. I was planning to do the sprint on Saturday, and Amanda was set for the Quarter on Sunday (1/4 of an Iroman). We left the dogs with Uncle Fred, so it was just the two of us, our bikes, and a lot of gear... and food.
What it reminded me of was my first full season of racing triathlons back in 1993. I had just discovered the sport; I had just met a bunch of great folks; and I was driving all over the place to do every race I could fit in my schedule: Athens, Corpus Christi, Del Rio, Jefferson, Grand Prairie and Canyon Lake. We went everywhere.
On Saturday morning, when I strolled out of my hotel room and down into transition to pick up my packet, a flood of memories overtook me. I was seeing some of the same faces from way back in the early nineties: Dave Sing, Carl Stewart. I was anticipating a brand new event. I was unsure of how I would feel racing. Somehow the newness of the venue, coupled with the sameness in my mind's eye made me feel strangely nervous, excited, comfortable, and relaxed. I loved it.
Amanda showed up to see me off in the swim. It was somewhere between 500 and 600 meters (or was it yards). I do not know, and it does not matter. I was in the second wave (how long has it been since the last time I did not get the first wave!?!), and I was ready to swim flat out for the duration. It was truly a refreshing break from the strategy-laden, pace-oriented swim of an Ironman. I swam until I blew up. Then I just swam a few more meters and got out. How cool.
Next up was a FAST transition. Fortunately, I got my helmet positioned and strapped in no time. My flying mount was flawless, and I was on the way.
Just as I was starting to get a bit uncomfortable with the intensity of the bike ride, I realized I was at the turnaround. Whoa. The 12.5 mile bike ride was over before I knew it.
Coming into T2, I was so excited for the run. Of all three sports, my run training has been the best. Not unlike that first season, when my run was my only fighting chance, I was about to make my move.
I slipped into my shoes without socks. This is something I have gone away from as an Ironman and 70.3 athlete. It just seems so fun to be carefree and fast and sock-less. I was off to run a 5k. I figured that was not the time to worry about blowing up. Again, how bad would it be if I blew up for the second half. I could always make 1.5 miles.
The pain I felt for that 55 minutes (plus or minus) was awesome. No matter how much my legs or lungs or arms hurt, I was almost done. I felt I was almost done when the gun went off!
After the race I stood at the finish line for probably 45 minutes. I shook hands of random finishers; I talked splits and data; I admired those who won their sprint finishes; and I reveled in the return to my roots.
I reflected on how far I have come in the sport. After racing my first triathlon on a mountain bike, wearing soccer shorts, and struggling to finish the sprint, I have made my way back to my roots. Sure, I've won a few races between then and now, but in the end, I'm still right where I started: having fun sharing a great sport with great people.
I am grateful to have shared in many others' experience at their first triathlon. Thank you for sharing it with me, and I urge you to enjoy the journey the sport will present to you. I remember vividly (now even more so) how much that first race impacted my life. Many moons ago I got hooked, and I am as hooked now as I was then!
Saturday, March 15, 2008
Prickly Pear Trail Race
The soon-to-be world famous Prickly Pear Trail Race took place down in San Antonio today. It's not quite a world class event yet, but the post-race food might have you believing otherwise. Let's just say that the beer was flowing, the fajitas were delicious, and the company was great. Sometimes I forget how much fun these Texas grass roots races can be!
Amanda, Fred (of Casa Fred), and I made an early departure for SA this morning, as we wanted to get to the McAllister State Park bright and early. We had chosen to race the ten-miler, and we needed to sign up on-site, and some of us (not Fred) needed to do a nice long warm up.
While Amanda and I were jogging around, testing out the trail, and loosening up our tired muscles, Fred was doing his version of a warm up, which consisted of sitting in the car with the heat running. To each his own, to each his own.
After scouting out the terrain, Amanda and I came to the conclusion that the race course called for a solid set of training shoes, as opposed to racing flats. Each of us was well prepared, and we had both types of shoes with us. I was really looking forward to racing in my brand new Saucony Type A2, as I have been absolutely loving them in my track workouts lately. Alas, it was not to be; this race was rocky and rough... at times. There were plenty of smooth surfaces, but the mixture of roots, rocks, twists, turns, mini-cliffs and hills did not scream out for a lightweight racing shoe.
We donned the heavier trainers and hit the start line.
There were probably 300 or so folks in the ten miler, and there was a 50k running concurrently (with 7:00AM star time, as opposed to ours of 8:30AM). Amanda and I found it odd that there was a large gap between the front line of runners and the actual start line. In triathlons we are used to doing, there is no gap between the start line and the people; in fact, there are usually people floating across the start line prematurely.
We took advantage of the gap, and lined up front and center. As soon as the started said "GO" I was off like a race horse. I had come up with a couple of possible race strategies during my warm up, but for some reason, my mind went blank when I heard him say "GO!"
I think Amanda tried to throw an elbow, and I am pretty sure she was gunning for the title of "first through 50 meters," but I managed to open up a small gap. I did hear some heavy breathing and footsteps right behind me for a few hundred meters, but for the most part, I was pulling away. Too fast, I might add.
The first mile was on an asphalt path that led us to the real trail. That first mile had one short uphill and one short down hill. The turns were wide open, and the footing was good. Either way, I was a bit surprised to hear my Garmin beep at the mile mark: 4:55. I've gone out too hot!
My on-the-fly strategy switching plan was to keep on running, not to look at the Garmin ever again, and to run until I blew up. Or until I hit some really rough trail. I held to the plan pretty well from there. I heard a spectator yelling for another runner not too much after I had gone by my second Garmin beep. Not knowing what my pace was, and feeling pretty spry, I kept on going. I figured I had better drop my pursuer, to prepare for the blow up that was imminent.
Somewhere between beep one and beep two, I found myself overtaking the lead cyclist. One of my favorite things about leading a race is that lead cyclist escorting me. I feel very driven to catch up to him or her. Well, in this case I actually had to call "on your right" to this guy. Poor fella was in a bit over his head with the rough terrain, and his mountain bike skills left a tad to be desired. I passed him, he said "go that way!", and was back to racing hard! (Amanda later overtook him as well, as he was lying on the side of the trail having crashed out.)
A few meters past the third beep, I quickly calculated that I had about seven more beeps to go. I was nowhere near finished, and I seemed to be slowing. I could no longer hear anyone behind me, and I could no longer hear anyone cheering for anyone behind me. I figured I'd better keep pressing, just in case.
Four beeps came, five beeps came, and suddenly the trail got a lot rougher. There were more tight switchbacks, more whoopty-doos, and more rocks and roots and ruts. And I was running WAY slower now. I had gone out too hot.
I was enjoying the race, because I have got some pretty rubber ankles, so I tend not to worry about the rugged terrain. I briefly thought of Amanda, who was definitely hoping for some fire roads instead of singletrack trail. She's a bit too cautious for this type of running. I had, however, gone out a bit hot, and I was now holding on.
Beeps six and seven went by, and I caught a bit of second wind. I had no idea of my pace, which turned out to be a good thing. I kept the pressure on, but the combination of terrain and heavier and heavier legs did not allow for the speedy paces I was holding in the first half. I sure did blow my sound pacing strategy! And I was loving it.
Finally I heard beeps eight and nine. I knew this section of trail from my warm up, and I knew some fajitas were awaiting me. I picked it up to finish strong, and to win my first running race since moving to Boulder. Those darn Boulder area runners would have really made me pay for going out too hot.
I just squeezed under the hour mark, a solid time for sure, but well off my early race pace. Duh. I looked through the Garmin splits, and noticed that my 3mile split was right at 15:30 (a speedy 5:10ave). The five miles went by under 27:20, so I was still in below 5:30 miles by that point. But the average sank from mile six to the end. I ended with a 5:59 average, and only 1:25 ahead of second place.
I felt really good about starting the race season out with a win. I had not won a race in several months, so it was very nice to be in that position again. My high lasted for about One Minute Twenty Five Seconds, when that second place runner came across the line. She looked really fresh. Did I look that fresh. Wait, did I say "she?" Yes, I won the race, and a stud of a local woman got second. I mean no disrespect to her, as she was clearly a great runner; I am just not used to seeing a woman get second overall. Way to go for her!
Truthfully, I was actually still very happy with the race. My high was not affected by who got second. A victory is a victory; competition is competition; and she gave one heck of a fight!
Amanda, Fred (of Casa Fred), and I made an early departure for SA this morning, as we wanted to get to the McAllister State Park bright and early. We had chosen to race the ten-miler, and we needed to sign up on-site, and some of us (not Fred) needed to do a nice long warm up.
While Amanda and I were jogging around, testing out the trail, and loosening up our tired muscles, Fred was doing his version of a warm up, which consisted of sitting in the car with the heat running. To each his own, to each his own.
After scouting out the terrain, Amanda and I came to the conclusion that the race course called for a solid set of training shoes, as opposed to racing flats. Each of us was well prepared, and we had both types of shoes with us. I was really looking forward to racing in my brand new Saucony Type A2, as I have been absolutely loving them in my track workouts lately. Alas, it was not to be; this race was rocky and rough... at times. There were plenty of smooth surfaces, but the mixture of roots, rocks, twists, turns, mini-cliffs and hills did not scream out for a lightweight racing shoe.
We donned the heavier trainers and hit the start line.
There were probably 300 or so folks in the ten miler, and there was a 50k running concurrently (with 7:00AM star time, as opposed to ours of 8:30AM). Amanda and I found it odd that there was a large gap between the front line of runners and the actual start line. In triathlons we are used to doing, there is no gap between the start line and the people; in fact, there are usually people floating across the start line prematurely.
We took advantage of the gap, and lined up front and center. As soon as the started said "GO" I was off like a race horse. I had come up with a couple of possible race strategies during my warm up, but for some reason, my mind went blank when I heard him say "GO!"
I think Amanda tried to throw an elbow, and I am pretty sure she was gunning for the title of "first through 50 meters," but I managed to open up a small gap. I did hear some heavy breathing and footsteps right behind me for a few hundred meters, but for the most part, I was pulling away. Too fast, I might add.
The first mile was on an asphalt path that led us to the real trail. That first mile had one short uphill and one short down hill. The turns were wide open, and the footing was good. Either way, I was a bit surprised to hear my Garmin beep at the mile mark: 4:55. I've gone out too hot!
My on-the-fly strategy switching plan was to keep on running, not to look at the Garmin ever again, and to run until I blew up. Or until I hit some really rough trail. I held to the plan pretty well from there. I heard a spectator yelling for another runner not too much after I had gone by my second Garmin beep. Not knowing what my pace was, and feeling pretty spry, I kept on going. I figured I had better drop my pursuer, to prepare for the blow up that was imminent.
Somewhere between beep one and beep two, I found myself overtaking the lead cyclist. One of my favorite things about leading a race is that lead cyclist escorting me. I feel very driven to catch up to him or her. Well, in this case I actually had to call "on your right" to this guy. Poor fella was in a bit over his head with the rough terrain, and his mountain bike skills left a tad to be desired. I passed him, he said "go that way!", and was back to racing hard! (Amanda later overtook him as well, as he was lying on the side of the trail having crashed out.)
A few meters past the third beep, I quickly calculated that I had about seven more beeps to go. I was nowhere near finished, and I seemed to be slowing. I could no longer hear anyone behind me, and I could no longer hear anyone cheering for anyone behind me. I figured I'd better keep pressing, just in case.
Four beeps came, five beeps came, and suddenly the trail got a lot rougher. There were more tight switchbacks, more whoopty-doos, and more rocks and roots and ruts. And I was running WAY slower now. I had gone out too hot.
I was enjoying the race, because I have got some pretty rubber ankles, so I tend not to worry about the rugged terrain. I briefly thought of Amanda, who was definitely hoping for some fire roads instead of singletrack trail. She's a bit too cautious for this type of running. I had, however, gone out a bit hot, and I was now holding on.
Beeps six and seven went by, and I caught a bit of second wind. I had no idea of my pace, which turned out to be a good thing. I kept the pressure on, but the combination of terrain and heavier and heavier legs did not allow for the speedy paces I was holding in the first half. I sure did blow my sound pacing strategy! And I was loving it.
Finally I heard beeps eight and nine. I knew this section of trail from my warm up, and I knew some fajitas were awaiting me. I picked it up to finish strong, and to win my first running race since moving to Boulder. Those darn Boulder area runners would have really made me pay for going out too hot.
I just squeezed under the hour mark, a solid time for sure, but well off my early race pace. Duh. I looked through the Garmin splits, and noticed that my 3mile split was right at 15:30 (a speedy 5:10ave). The five miles went by under 27:20, so I was still in below 5:30 miles by that point. But the average sank from mile six to the end. I ended with a 5:59 average, and only 1:25 ahead of second place.
I felt really good about starting the race season out with a win. I had not won a race in several months, so it was very nice to be in that position again. My high lasted for about One Minute Twenty Five Seconds, when that second place runner came across the line. She looked really fresh. Did I look that fresh. Wait, did I say "she?" Yes, I won the race, and a stud of a local woman got second. I mean no disrespect to her, as she was clearly a great runner; I am just not used to seeing a woman get second overall. Way to go for her!
Truthfully, I was actually still very happy with the race. My high was not affected by who got second. A victory is a victory; competition is competition; and she gave one heck of a fight!
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Sponorship: A Right or a Privelege ?
I've been in this sport for sixteen years now, and I have gained experience at just about every level: from a novice struggling to finish my first sprint, to a veteran Ironman competitor pushing myself to finish at the top of an international pro field. I love the sport, and I love examining its ins and outs, from training to racing to living the triathlon lifestyle. From that examination come these thoughts on sponsorship.
While poking around on the internet Friday afternoon, I stumbled upon a few blogs (and a few blogger comments) which started me thinking about sponsorship in the world of triathlon. It's not only the blog posts that got me thinking. Hearing some of my fellow pro triathletes' opinions has made me wonder about the trends of our sport; and talking to various age group athletes, has presented me with similar questions.
What I continue to ask myself is this: why do so many athletes consider it their right to be sponsored? Why do they not realize that the support of a sponsor is a hard earned privilege?
First I thought it would be helpful to define sponsorship. Primarily, a sponsor is someone who assumes responsibility for another person, or who vouches for that person. Or to expand on that, it is someone who takes care of another. Be it in a financial, emotional, or physical manner, a sponsor takes responsibility for someone else.
In triathlon, as in other sports, sponsors take care of athletes by providing them money, equipment, and general support in his or her endeavors. Sponsors do this so that the athlete can perform better, so he or she can achieve certain goals, so he or she can make a living, and so the sponsor can share in the responsibility of the athlete's struggles and accomplishments. In short, they do so because they care about the athletes.
They do not do this because they have to do so.
My recent observations have told me that far too many triathletes assume that they deserve sponsorship for one or more of the following reasons:
a) They are (or think they are) really fast at swimming, biking, and running;
b) They are the most "loyal" customer of a particular company;
c) They just want to get free stuff;
d) They see that others have sponsors, so they assume that they, too, should have sponsors, and
e) They need sponsorship to feed their egos, because then they will be "sponsored athletes," like Tiger Woods.
At this point, I am afraid I'm going to have to call bullshit.
I find it absolutely appalling when I read about a disgruntled athlete who choses to boycott or discontinue use of a product merely because the company who produces it decides not to sponsor that particular athlete. If the basis of the sponsorship request was that the athlete believes in and uses the product, why does that change if the company chooses not to invest in the athlete? In other words, if you were going to wear that race outfit when you thought it was going to be free, why wouldn't you use it once you know you have to pay for it?!!
Additionally, I periodically hear an athlete talking badly about a company or a product: "So-and-so did not get back to me promptly when I asked them to sponsor me," or "this-and-that is an inferior company because they chose not to spend money on me." (Yes, it does cost a sponsor money even if it's purely a product-only deal.) If the athlete is talking smack about a company just because it has chosen not to sponsor him or her, it is pretty clear the sponsor made the right decision: nobody wants to be associated with a smack-talking whiner!
In contrast to the above reasons for seeking sponsorship, here are some pretty simple questions to ask prior to making that sponsorship inquiry:
a) Do I believe in the product?
b) Can I make the company more successful, or can I help it improve?
c) Will I make a good representative of the company?
d) Am I capable of clearly communicating the company's message to its customers or clients?
e) Do I want sponsorship, or do I need sponsorship?
In the end, we could not have professional triathletes without the generous support of our sponsors. Rather than be bitter, disgruntled or ungrateful, we should be appreciative that there are kind-hearted, giving businessmen and (and women) who chose to associate their companies with us as athletes. As an extension or a representation of the sponsors' companies, we athletes should stand up, be thankful, and take nothing for granted.
Sponsorship is NOT a right; it is most certainly a privilege... and one to which not everyone is entitled. And that's OK, too.
While poking around on the internet Friday afternoon, I stumbled upon a few blogs (and a few blogger comments) which started me thinking about sponsorship in the world of triathlon. It's not only the blog posts that got me thinking. Hearing some of my fellow pro triathletes' opinions has made me wonder about the trends of our sport; and talking to various age group athletes, has presented me with similar questions.
What I continue to ask myself is this: why do so many athletes consider it their right to be sponsored? Why do they not realize that the support of a sponsor is a hard earned privilege?
First I thought it would be helpful to define sponsorship. Primarily, a sponsor is someone who assumes responsibility for another person, or who vouches for that person. Or to expand on that, it is someone who takes care of another. Be it in a financial, emotional, or physical manner, a sponsor takes responsibility for someone else.
In triathlon, as in other sports, sponsors take care of athletes by providing them money, equipment, and general support in his or her endeavors. Sponsors do this so that the athlete can perform better, so he or she can achieve certain goals, so he or she can make a living, and so the sponsor can share in the responsibility of the athlete's struggles and accomplishments. In short, they do so because they care about the athletes.
They do not do this because they have to do so.
My recent observations have told me that far too many triathletes assume that they deserve sponsorship for one or more of the following reasons:
a) They are (or think they are) really fast at swimming, biking, and running;
b) They are the most "loyal" customer of a particular company;
c) They just want to get free stuff;
d) They see that others have sponsors, so they assume that they, too, should have sponsors, and
e) They need sponsorship to feed their egos, because then they will be "sponsored athletes," like Tiger Woods.
At this point, I am afraid I'm going to have to call bullshit.
I find it absolutely appalling when I read about a disgruntled athlete who choses to boycott or discontinue use of a product merely because the company who produces it decides not to sponsor that particular athlete. If the basis of the sponsorship request was that the athlete believes in and uses the product, why does that change if the company chooses not to invest in the athlete? In other words, if you were going to wear that race outfit when you thought it was going to be free, why wouldn't you use it once you know you have to pay for it?!!
Additionally, I periodically hear an athlete talking badly about a company or a product: "So-and-so did not get back to me promptly when I asked them to sponsor me," or "this-and-that is an inferior company because they chose not to spend money on me." (Yes, it does cost a sponsor money even if it's purely a product-only deal.) If the athlete is talking smack about a company just because it has chosen not to sponsor him or her, it is pretty clear the sponsor made the right decision: nobody wants to be associated with a smack-talking whiner!
In contrast to the above reasons for seeking sponsorship, here are some pretty simple questions to ask prior to making that sponsorship inquiry:
a) Do I believe in the product?
b) Can I make the company more successful, or can I help it improve?
c) Will I make a good representative of the company?
d) Am I capable of clearly communicating the company's message to its customers or clients?
e) Do I want sponsorship, or do I need sponsorship?
In the end, we could not have professional triathletes without the generous support of our sponsors. Rather than be bitter, disgruntled or ungrateful, we should be appreciative that there are kind-hearted, giving businessmen and (and women) who chose to associate their companies with us as athletes. As an extension or a representation of the sponsors' companies, we athletes should stand up, be thankful, and take nothing for granted.
Sponsorship is NOT a right; it is most certainly a privilege... and one to which not everyone is entitled. And that's OK, too.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Getting There
Today was absolutely gorgeous here in Austin. The high was above 80 degrees. I'm not sure how much above, but does it really matter? If it's 80-anything in February, it's a gorgeous day.
Amanda and I had a really nice run this morning. One of the blessings of having gotten so sick is that, while I am getting back in the groove of things, I have been able to join Amanda with her training. Today she was doing her first long run back after her bout with the flu, so she's a few days ahead of me with the recovery. Lucky her!
Anyway, I opted to join Amanda for a twenty-minute tempo block on the track midway through her run. Terra joined in, as she had some pace work to do as well. I love acting as Amanda's rabbit, because it inspires and impresses me how well she can push herself when she's got that carrot out front. It turns out her tempo and track paces are just right for me to run without taxing myself too terribly much. I am hoping to keep doing this with her fairly regularly even once I'm back to full training. It's satisfying for me to help Amanda, and it's great for her to have the motivation to move a bit more quickly. It's not going to be long, though, before her fitness is at the point where it will be taxing for me to serve as her rabbit! She's getting stronger and stronger.
After the run we returned to the track to keep Terra honest on her second tempo block. She did amazingly well, and her times indicate to me that her fitness is right on track to have a great IM over in Tempe in seven weeks. She's just got to carry some of that hard work out onto the race course, and she's going to surprise a few of her competitors.
The rest of the day was pretty mellow. We had a great swim at Stacy pool; we stopped by Jack's shop; and we made it over to the World's Greatest Whole Foods to pick up some groceries. We love that place, and sure wish our Boulder store would upgrade to follow suit.
On another note, I've finally committed to "un-commit" to doing California 70.3. I have done this race five year's in a row, and it's become a favorite stop of mine on the early-season race calendar. I really enjoy the venue, and it's become a great way to assess my strengths and weaknesses. However, having lost two consecutive weeks in my training, and without even being back to full-speed yet, I just don't think I could give an honest race effort in just a few weeks. My new plan is to build back up next week, then to implement a nice little base-building block before we leave Austin. (Fred permitting, we might be in Austin until the end of March; we're loving it her!)
The first triathlon of the year will now be St. Croix 70.3. We have a good friend getting married the day after the race, and our World's Best Home Stay family lives down there... and we miss them! After STX, I'll probably race at Disney again, then power up for another go at Ironman Coeur d'Alene.
So getting sick hasn't been that bad: I get to train more with Amanda, and I even set a race schedule!
Thanks for checking in... I really am getting there!
Monday, February 18, 2008
Almost Strong
I have gotten to the point where I'm almost strong. I am not quite strong, but I'm almost there. And by strong I mean strong enough to go back to a normal routine of swimming, biking, running, walking the dogs, hanging out with my wife, eating, and, of course, climbing the stairs.
I'm almost strong. But I'm not quite there yet.
Since getting the flu, I have found new meaning in the term: I've fallen and I can't get up. Although I did not trip and fall; nor did I crash my bike and fall; nor did I even fall off the top bunk; I fell, and I fell hard! I fell flat on my back and I have been worthless ever since. I feel like I got flattened. Like a pancake.
The past couple days, I've been getting back out there for some exercise. Amanda has been kind enough to ride and run with me a few times, right up to the point when she dropped me. And she's been kind enough to come back for me... so she can drop me again. She better watch out. I'm almost strong again.
The other day I realized just how weak I had become when I couldn't even finish a proper meal. I was just too tired to do so. I seemed to have a decent enough appetite, but I just couldn't make myself keep chewing. I was worn out.
I have finally gotten somewhat used to making it up the stairs without needing a couch break at the top. Now that I have conquered that task, I'm setting my sights on putting together a good combo workout. My plan tomorrow is to wake up, climb the stairs without a break at the top, eat a full breakfast, then to ride my bike without getting dropped by Amanda. I am almost strong today, so I think I can do it tomorrow.
Once I'm back to being strong, I'll focus on getting back in shape. Just before I fell flat on my back, I felt like I had actually begun to get in shape. Almost in shape.
I'm almost strong. But I'm not quite there yet.
Since getting the flu, I have found new meaning in the term: I've fallen and I can't get up. Although I did not trip and fall; nor did I crash my bike and fall; nor did I even fall off the top bunk; I fell, and I fell hard! I fell flat on my back and I have been worthless ever since. I feel like I got flattened. Like a pancake.
The past couple days, I've been getting back out there for some exercise. Amanda has been kind enough to ride and run with me a few times, right up to the point when she dropped me. And she's been kind enough to come back for me... so she can drop me again. She better watch out. I'm almost strong again.
The other day I realized just how weak I had become when I couldn't even finish a proper meal. I was just too tired to do so. I seemed to have a decent enough appetite, but I just couldn't make myself keep chewing. I was worn out.
I have finally gotten somewhat used to making it up the stairs without needing a couch break at the top. Now that I have conquered that task, I'm setting my sights on putting together a good combo workout. My plan tomorrow is to wake up, climb the stairs without a break at the top, eat a full breakfast, then to ride my bike without getting dropped by Amanda. I am almost strong today, so I think I can do it tomorrow.
Once I'm back to being strong, I'll focus on getting back in shape. Just before I fell flat on my back, I felt like I had actually begun to get in shape. Almost in shape.
Tuesday, February 05, 2008
Home Is Where the Heart Is
We've been in Austin for just over a month now, and we've really been enjoying our time here. The weather has been incredible. The training has been great. And catching up with all the great folks in town has been amazing.
Amanda and I have established a great routine, and we're starting to feel like we're finally getting in shape! If Fred doesn't get tired of us inhabiting Casa Coogan, we just might be here until mid-March.
Last week I traveled to Nashville to participate in the USAT Southeast Regional Expo. It was a really great event hosted by Kathleen Johnston, a studly age group triathlete, amongst other things. I loved seeing a new city; I had an absolute blast with Shelby and the rest of my new Nashville buddies; and I thoroughly enjoyed giving a talk at the expo.
Just after the event, I flew back to Boulder to check in on things.
While being back in Boulder I had the time to think about our visit to Austin. I was only there for four full days, but I packed a lot in that time. By the end of the last day, I was on the phone talking to Amanda. I had really been missing her and the dogs, especially being in our empty house without them. As we were getting off the phone, I told Amanda that I could not wait to go home. I caught myself, then corrected: I couldn't wait to get back to Austin, I meant.
After living in Austin for over nine years, and after establishing the great friendships that I did, I will always think of Austin as a second home, no matter where I am living. But at that very moment in time I was at home... in Boulder... where my house is and where many of my possessions are. But I had the distinct feeling that I as about to be going home to Austin.
At that moment, it became very evident to me why people say that home is where the heart is. As much as I like Boulder, and as much as I like Austin, it became clear that for me, home is where Amanda and Luna and Blue are waiting for me. I really just don't feel at home unless I am with my wife and doggies.
And it's good to be home.
Amanda and I have established a great routine, and we're starting to feel like we're finally getting in shape! If Fred doesn't get tired of us inhabiting Casa Coogan, we just might be here until mid-March.
Last week I traveled to Nashville to participate in the USAT Southeast Regional Expo. It was a really great event hosted by Kathleen Johnston, a studly age group triathlete, amongst other things. I loved seeing a new city; I had an absolute blast with Shelby and the rest of my new Nashville buddies; and I thoroughly enjoyed giving a talk at the expo.
Just after the event, I flew back to Boulder to check in on things.
While being back in Boulder I had the time to think about our visit to Austin. I was only there for four full days, but I packed a lot in that time. By the end of the last day, I was on the phone talking to Amanda. I had really been missing her and the dogs, especially being in our empty house without them. As we were getting off the phone, I told Amanda that I could not wait to go home. I caught myself, then corrected: I couldn't wait to get back to Austin, I meant.
After living in Austin for over nine years, and after establishing the great friendships that I did, I will always think of Austin as a second home, no matter where I am living. But at that very moment in time I was at home... in Boulder... where my house is and where many of my possessions are. But I had the distinct feeling that I as about to be going home to Austin.
At that moment, it became very evident to me why people say that home is where the heart is. As much as I like Boulder, and as much as I like Austin, it became clear that for me, home is where Amanda and Luna and Blue are waiting for me. I really just don't feel at home unless I am with my wife and doggies.
And it's good to be home.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Austin Update!
OK, so I fell off the blog posting wagon. I see a comment from someone out there asking me not to revert to my old habits, but it seems it already happened. This time the excuse is that I'm in Austin, and I've just run out of time and energy to sit down at the computer to update the blog.
Let's see if I can sum up the last two weeks and a half weeks...
Amanda and I have been having an absolute blast here in Austin. We've been doing some great training, we've been hanging out with all of our good friends, and we've been enjoying the great weather.
Our routine seems to have evolved into getting up very early in the morning. I think I've seen the 5:00 o'clock hour more this past couple weeks, and I have to admit that I like it. We've been joining the UT masters at 6:30 some days; we've been doing runs at Town Lake other mornings; and we've been visiting numerous of Austin's great coffee shops and restaurants on other mornings.
Normally I come to Austin in mid-February, so I'm in a bit better shape when I arrive. My typical Austin trip is centered around logging a bunch of bike miles in prep for an early Ironman. This time around it's a bit different. We showed up here out of shape, and anxious to get going with the training.
Since being here we've come to realize that we really like getting in shape at sea level. It's not quite as painful as it is in Boulder! It's coming along nicely, and I feel that I've already made some noticeable gains.
Today was one of a few three-sport days we've had. The UT pool is closed, so we made it over to one of Austin's gems: Stacy Pool. It's free and it's 100ft in length. Notching 100 yds in just three laps makes the yardage add up much more quickly!
Next up was a nice run around Town Lake. Richie Cunningham is in town, in order to escape the cold Boston winter, so he joined me for the ten-mile loop. It was a bit cooler today, which made for perfect running weather. We ticked away at a comfortable pace chatting about pretty much anything under the sun. I haven't had too many run partners lately, so it was nice to have that company for a change.
My final session was an easy spin with Amanda through some of Austin's great neighborhoods. There are very few flat parts of town, so this ride, like most, was a bit hilly. It feels great to be at sea level, especially when on those climbs!
I'm not making any promises, but I will do my best to keep up those updates.
Thanks for checking in!
Let's see if I can sum up the last two weeks and a half weeks...
Amanda and I have been having an absolute blast here in Austin. We've been doing some great training, we've been hanging out with all of our good friends, and we've been enjoying the great weather.
Our routine seems to have evolved into getting up very early in the morning. I think I've seen the 5:00 o'clock hour more this past couple weeks, and I have to admit that I like it. We've been joining the UT masters at 6:30 some days; we've been doing runs at Town Lake other mornings; and we've been visiting numerous of Austin's great coffee shops and restaurants on other mornings.
Normally I come to Austin in mid-February, so I'm in a bit better shape when I arrive. My typical Austin trip is centered around logging a bunch of bike miles in prep for an early Ironman. This time around it's a bit different. We showed up here out of shape, and anxious to get going with the training.
Since being here we've come to realize that we really like getting in shape at sea level. It's not quite as painful as it is in Boulder! It's coming along nicely, and I feel that I've already made some noticeable gains.
Today was one of a few three-sport days we've had. The UT pool is closed, so we made it over to one of Austin's gems: Stacy Pool. It's free and it's 100ft in length. Notching 100 yds in just three laps makes the yardage add up much more quickly!
Next up was a nice run around Town Lake. Richie Cunningham is in town, in order to escape the cold Boston winter, so he joined me for the ten-mile loop. It was a bit cooler today, which made for perfect running weather. We ticked away at a comfortable pace chatting about pretty much anything under the sun. I haven't had too many run partners lately, so it was nice to have that company for a change.
My final session was an easy spin with Amanda through some of Austin's great neighborhoods. There are very few flat parts of town, so this ride, like most, was a bit hilly. It feels great to be at sea level, especially when on those climbs!
I'm not making any promises, but I will do my best to keep up those updates.
Thanks for checking in!
Saturday, December 29, 2007
Out of Competition
I slept way in this morning, and by way in, I mean until 10:30AM. Amanda graciously allowed me to continue my slumber well past her early hour wake-up time of 7:00AM. Well past it. In fact, she was on her way back from a run when she decided to call me at home to see if I wanted a coffee from Spruce. (I love Spruce.) It was that call that woke me up at 10:30. I might have slept until 11:00 otherwise! Did I forget to mention that I'm part bear?
After a fairly slow start to the day (I opted out of the coffee offer), I found myself outside for the first time around 1:15PM. The dogs asked me to take them for a neighborhood walk, since they, too, chose to skip this morning's run with Amanda. We're a smart bunch.
We did one of our regular loops through the 'hood, stopping a few times to dive our heads into deep snow drifts (Luna), to shiver (Blue), and to pick-up some animalpoop (me). The fact that I was enjoying the 31-degree warmth indicates that I've officially made the mental switch that is key to cold weather adaptation. Temps in the forties seem balmy to me now.
Upon return to the house, I spotted a strange vehicle in the driveway. At first I thought some solicitors were too cold to walk door-to-door, and had chosen to drive door-to-door. Then the car's occupants hopped out and introduced themselves to me as USADA doping control agents. Once again, I was being tested Out of Competition.
This marks the fifth time USADA has come to my house (or to Flatiron Athletic Club) to test me outside of an event in 2007. My grand total for tests this year is eight, once you add the three tests I passed at Ironmans.
The agents told a funny story about how an athlete out in California ducked a test they had targeted him for, and he did so by hiding under the blanket on the couch. The agent testing him could actually see him pull the blanket over his head, after she knocked on his door. I laughed at how silly one must be to think this is an effective method of hiding.
However, it's not funny that he is intentionally skipping his test. I do not think he was a triathlete, but nonetheless, he's an athlete who chooses not to follow the testing protocol. He is, therefore, choosing not to play by the rules. This makes him a cheater, and I don't like hearing about other athletes cheating. I know they are out there, in all sports, taking advantage in one way or another; it just makes me sad to hear about it firsthand.
All I can do is to continue providing samples to the doping control agents; to keep submitting my quarterly schedule to USADA; and to hope that more of these cheaters get caught, and are brought out from under their blankets.
After a fairly slow start to the day (I opted out of the coffee offer), I found myself outside for the first time around 1:15PM. The dogs asked me to take them for a neighborhood walk, since they, too, chose to skip this morning's run with Amanda. We're a smart bunch.
We did one of our regular loops through the 'hood, stopping a few times to dive our heads into deep snow drifts (Luna), to shiver (Blue), and to pick-up some animalpoop (me). The fact that I was enjoying the 31-degree warmth indicates that I've officially made the mental switch that is key to cold weather adaptation. Temps in the forties seem balmy to me now.
Upon return to the house, I spotted a strange vehicle in the driveway. At first I thought some solicitors were too cold to walk door-to-door, and had chosen to drive door-to-door. Then the car's occupants hopped out and introduced themselves to me as USADA doping control agents. Once again, I was being tested Out of Competition.
This marks the fifth time USADA has come to my house (or to Flatiron Athletic Club) to test me outside of an event in 2007. My grand total for tests this year is eight, once you add the three tests I passed at Ironmans.
The agents told a funny story about how an athlete out in California ducked a test they had targeted him for, and he did so by hiding under the blanket on the couch. The agent testing him could actually see him pull the blanket over his head, after she knocked on his door. I laughed at how silly one must be to think this is an effective method of hiding.
However, it's not funny that he is intentionally skipping his test. I do not think he was a triathlete, but nonetheless, he's an athlete who chooses not to follow the testing protocol. He is, therefore, choosing not to play by the rules. This makes him a cheater, and I don't like hearing about other athletes cheating. I know they are out there, in all sports, taking advantage in one way or another; it just makes me sad to hear about it firsthand.
All I can do is to continue providing samples to the doping control agents; to keep submitting my quarterly schedule to USADA; and to hope that more of these cheaters get caught, and are brought out from under their blankets.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
We're Heading to Austin!
We have officially made plans to make our trip out of the winter wonderland of Boulder, Colorado. While we will be very sad to leave our newly formed Friday Run Group, and we'll also miss other great things here at home, we are very excited to get going on some warm weather training!
It's been on the horizon for a while now, but the planning has finally gelled a bit, and we're planning to depart Boulder on the 2nd, 3rd, or/and 5th. Hmm... does that sound like a plan that has gelled? I hope to depart on the 2nd, but if I cannot get myself and the car organized, the dogs and I will pull out of here on the 3rd. We bought Amanda a super cheap one-way ticket departing on the 5th, but there is a chance she'll decide to join the three of us for the road trip. Either way, by the weekend after this one, we'll be in Austin!
I will actually be heading out to Nashville on January 25th, to partake of the Southeast Multi-Sport Expo on the 26th. Anyone in the area on the 26th, stop by for a visit: www.southeasttriexpo.com
From there I'll head back to Boulder for four or five days to check in with NA Sports and everything at the home front, including Frisco. We'll have some folks staying here at our house while we are gone, so Frisco won't be lonely.
On the 31st I'll head back on down to Austin to join back up with Amanda, Luna, Blue, and all the Austin crew. It feels good to have a plan!
And for the next week, I had better bundle up! (But not too much!)
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