A Space Toddyssey

Vicodin, Take Me Away!

2010-12-05T13:14:00.000-06:00

AKA - "I think I broke my coccyx."

Not really, but it felt that way last night. We had an incredibly busy Saturday that culminated in birthday dinner at one of my favorite steak restaurants followed by a holiday party at the house of my friend M. It had snowed the day before creating an idyllic winter wonderland (and making it ridiculously slippery.)

My wife bought a new dress and accessorized it with some black "hooker heels" (very hot - really.) Admittedly this was not the best combination for a winter night, but we like to live dangerously. At the end of the night I suggested my wife wait in the driveway while I go retrieve the car. Damn, it was chilly. Especially since I decided to leave the winter coat at home. I trotted quickly to the car, opened the driver side door, went to step in and ended up flat on my back.

I landed on my ass so fricking hard it knocked the wind out of me. There I was rolling over and over in the snow-covered road, in my sportcoat and dress pants. I couldn't call out to anyone, so I just lay there, trying to get my shit back together and wondering how in the hell I was going to stand up and get in the car with a broken coccyx.

I got myself up to hands and knees, got my hand on the door handle and gingerly climbed into the driver's seat. I still didn't have my breathing back to normal and when my wife got in the car she immediately knew something was wrong. (She might have known something was wrong when she was waiting for 5 minutes for a trip that should have taken me 30 seconds.)

Driving home, wondering how I'm going to get out of the car, I started to get a damn migraine. I don't know if the fall triggered it or what, but it started coming on fast and that's never good. When I finally got home it was straight to the medicine cabinet for "Vitamin V."

So now I sit here, feeling like I'm hungover, but without any of the fun usually associated with this feeling.

"Honey, will you please get me a couple more Vicodin?"

It was just like "A Christmas Carol" without all the ghosts and Victorian crap

2010-11-22T13:29:00.000-06:00

For the first time that I can remember, I had an Ironman dream. Most of my sport related dreams are swimming dreams, but I think I've turned a corner with this dream.

I was in Hawaii and MM, FL, Bree, GG, Kerrie, Ian and Charisa were all there. I'm sure you'd all like to know who is associated with the various characters in "A Christmas Carol" but, as I stated in the title, there were no ghosts and no "Victorian crap" including "Victorian people."

Anywho, I was in Hawaii and there was an Ironman race the next day. It wasn't Kona, it was another IM distance race at another time of the year (it's a dream, people. I know it doesn't make any sense.) Everyone was there to do the race so everyone was encouraging me to sign-up and race. (Again, I know you can't sign up for an IM race the day before. Can we all just suspend disbelief for awhile here?) I explained that I hadn't been training, but they all assured me that I was in plenty good shape to finish it. I explained that I didn't have any race clothes and suddenly people were offering to lend me stuff. I had no excuses. Against my better judgment I agreed to do it. Then, as I was walking over to sign up I realized, "I don't have a bike. I can't do this without a bike." And then everyone agreed, "Yes, you would need a bike to do this. I guess you can't do it. That's too bad."

Then I woke up.

This morning I received a reply to an email I sent my coach. I am giving myself about six weeks to get back in shape so we can start training for the 2011 race season. She has a lot of work to do. Let's get started.

OK! Now, I really AM Angry!

2010-11-10T12:56:00.000-06:00

(That title was again for Kiet, but I actually mean it this time.)

I swear this time I have a legitimate reason to be angry. Look at my house!

What the FUCK!? Where did this come from!?

It came from this son of a bitch! We can hear him pecking and it's driving us insane. (Some of us literally insane as my wife repeatedly answers the door thinking someone is knocking and then she blames it on some kids playing "Ding Dong Ditch" but replacing "Ding Dong" with "Knock Knock" even though it doesn't have nearly the same alliteration. The dog is not fooled and makes no move when he hears the pecking - "Stoopid humans.")

He has his fricking head in my house!

Here's the damage he caused in about 20 minutes of pecking.

(OK, truth be told we have tremendous dry-rot in those locations of our trim and it really needs to be replaced, but does nature have to rub salt in our wounds by making our place look so painfully ghetto that our neighbors are giving us dirty looks? Apparently so.)

I swear I can hear him as I write this.

I AM SO ANGRY!

2010-11-08T14:48:00.000-06:00

(That title is for Kiet.)

I'm not really angry. I am actually quite happy. Actually, I might be a little angry that I don't have anything to be genuinely angry about. I was in San Diego last week doing more recon for my little tri-store endeavor. It was ~~pleasant, fun, enlightening~~ really, really, REALLY hard work that left me physically and mentally exhausted. It was, in fact, like working in a salt mine and doing the New York Times crossword all day.

(Not really, but what am I supposed to tell my wife? Again, she's going to Haiti. I have to make it appear that I have a cross to bear.)

Even all my flights and airline employee interactions were pleasant and helpful. It was kind of surreal, but I'll take it.

Again, I won't bore you with the businessy stuff or the stores I visited. I'd rather write about the ~~fun~~ stuff the left my hands blistered and my head aching.

Thursday, I stopped by Hi-Tech Cycles and met Beth. She was helping with a beginner triathlete seminar, so we only really got to say, "Hi," to each other and didn't really get to talk. I have to say that I had an incredibly cool conversation with the owner, Hank, this guy really knew every detail about all the bikes on his floor. I think he was a little irritated that I was there doing recon and I sincerely apologize for that. He is an incredible wealth of knowledge. (If anyone knows Hank, please send my deepest apologies if I offended him - it certainly wasn't my intent to waste his time or "steal" any secrets or ideas.)

I played FB tag with Noreen Howard and in the end didn't get a chance to meet. Next time. (Because there will be a next time.) Charisa and I played Twitter tag and then she mentioned that she was going to go for a swim over lunch. I was excited because I thought it would be an ocean swim, but alas it was masters in the local pool. Not at all disappointed when I got there - it was outdoor, 25 meter and salty. I don't think I mentioned, it was 85 - 90 degrees there. And ~~BEAUTIFUL!~~ horrible and miserable.

I find the pool and am signing away my life and paying my $6 and there is this cute chick standing next to me. The receptionist asks what city I live in and when I say "Edina" the cute chick says, "TODD!?" (Who the fuck are you? Am I that famous/notorious?) "I'm Marit!"

So super fun! I got to unexpectedly meet another FB/Twitter/Blog friend. Marit is from St. Paul so we talked a little about Minnes-OH-ta. We also talked about her Afghanistan based helicopter flying hubby who is now done flying and will be home for the holidays! Yeah, baby!

I then hopped in the pool and proceeded to swim 4,000 meters when I haven't swam in about a week and the last time I swam 4K was probably four months ago. I did a surprisingly good job keeping up.

Later I went to dinner with Charisa, her husband Steven, Ian, Marit, their buddies Kevin and Brian. We had awesome Mexican food. (When I told my wife we had Mexican, she said, "I thought you didn't like Mexican," "I don't like bad, Minnesotan Mexican," Truth is, we're too lazy to find a good Mexican place in town.)

The night was about to get fun. First, five adults packed into Charisa's Mini Cooper. It was a like a clown car. I got to sit next to Charisa (she smells nice. At least I think it was her - it definitely wasn't me.) We were a little early for the reservation and stood talking on the sidewalk waiting for Marit to arrive. Ian was telling some story and we were all laughing and some guy walks up, sticks his face in the group and says, "witty, heh heh heh." We all look at him like, what the fuck!? Then he looks at Ian and says "Air Force." Ian looks at him and announces, "MARINES!" The guy mutters something, steps through the group, between two parked cars and proceeds to skip across four lanes of busy traffic. It was surreal and hilarious. Ian's response was priceless.

Dinner was fantastic. There was much laughing and discussion/descriptions of various Marine airborne gun platforms. We learned a lot about Ian's dad Vietnam experience, Marit's husband's helicopter and Steven's budding competitive eating career.

After dinner we went back to Charisa and Steven's place and sat around while Ian told hilarious stories. Actually, the stories may not have been so hilarious, but Ian's way of telling them sure was. I've always been a fan of Ian's but after a few hours with him I requested that the next time he's over just sitting around shooting the shit, I need to be called and put on speaker so I could listen in and laugh my ass off.

This concludes my store recon and my travel for the year. I am still amazed and incredibly grateful to everyone who has been so helpful and supportive. As I move forward I'll continue to provide updates. I'll also try to be less angry in future posts. There really hasn't been much to be angry about, let's see if the momentum continues.

Seattle

2010-10-30T18:00:00.107-05:00

I have been overly cryptic in the last few posts about what I am doing, but I finally am willing to make my plans public. I am going to open a triathlon shop in Minneapolis in the next six to nine months (that's the schedule now anyway, things are bound to change.)

As part of putting my business plan together I am visiting some cities with large triathlon communities to talk to tri-shop owners about their experiences getting started and to see what I can learn from those who have gone before me. My first stop was Chicago. My second stop has been Seattle and next week I am heading down to San Diego.

I could bore you all with my concept, the brands I want to carry and junk like that, but that is generally uninteresting and pales in comparison to the crazy, serendipitous, coincidental contacts I have made through the few people I have talked with about this. The saga will be out of chronological order, but I really need to tell you about my unbelievable experience in Seattle over the last 48 hours.

I flew into Seattle on Thursday, early afternoon. The plan was to meet up with Jen and her husband, Duncan, mid-afternoon, see some sites around Seattle, do this "Underground Seattle" tour and then get some Vietnamese for dinner. Driving from the airport to Seattle is beautiful. It was cloudy and rainy (as is to be expected, I guess) but much warmer than when I left Minneapolis.

I was scheduled to visit two stores in Seattle and meet two FB/Twitter friends - Jen Huffman-Swift (AKA @ultragrrl) and Teresa Nelson and Mark Webb (AKA @tnmultisports.)

I got around Seattle surprisingly easily considering my complete lack of a sense of direction. My hotel was nice and right in the middle of the university area. I had a beautiful view of ~~Mt. McKinley~~ Mt. Ranier.

I met up with Jen and her husband, Duncan. They drove me around town in the rockin' Element. Duncan is an endless font of Seattle trivia. It was really cool to have a full-on tour guide telling me genuinely interesting stuff about the city. Jen did a great job driving.

We headed down to Pioneer Square to take the "Underground Seattle Tour." Let me tell you, if you've been to Seattle (or not) and you haven't done this tour, you really should. It's not super long, but it's really interesting and you get to learn a ton about early Seattle and more recent history like the largest mass murder connected to a robbery in US history.

Totem at Pioneer Square

Jen & Duncan

Under the sidewalks of Seattle

Crap

Skylight from sidewalk above

Solid

Creepy view into old bank

Old bank vault

Apparently this area is haunted.

Spooooooky.

After the tour we went for Vietnamese. I love Vietnamese food, but we don't usually get out of our bubble to get it, so it was nice treat. During our conversation I found out Duncan had run his own retail store for awhile and it was great to hear some of the lessons he and Jen learned about retailing.

Jen and Duncan are great people and I had a fantastic time talking with them. They get added to the Christmas Card list (don't worry, we don't send out stupid letters, just a picture of our "adorable" kids.) Jen, email me your address (or not, if you're Jewish or Muslim or anti-Christmas card or just plain hate me now that you've met me. The latter happens more often than you'd think, so I'm OK with it.)

Friday was store visit day. I drove around a little while I waited for stores to open. I saw Pike Place Market - decided to just drive by as I imagine it's a little more fun or interesting to visit with someone. Drove by the first Starbucks, too. Then by the Space Needle and EMP. Again, way more interesting to visit with someone.

The first store I visited was Speedy Reedy. Won't bore you with the details. Brooke was very nice and extremely helpful. Then I hiked it out to Redmond to check out Mr. Crampy. Also, very nice and helpful. Speedy Reedy has been in business for, like, 10 years where as Mr. Crampy has been in business for, like, 10 months. It was interesting to be able to compare the two and to recognize where they are similar in their core business philosophies.

Jen had time, so I invited her to meet me at Mr. Crampy's and then we went out to lunch. We talked a little more about my business and some of the avenues I was pursuing. She really did a great job of playing devil's advocate - something that is considerably more valuable than a bunch of cheerleaders. Thanks for that.

I cut Jen loose and headed back to the hotel. The evening plans called for meeting up with Teresa and Mark at a dark track to witness a beer mile.

Bunch of people I didn't know.


Same people - still don't know them.

Then we went to a local bar with their 14 closest friends and had dinner and watched the beer run festivities continue. I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard. Teresa, Mark and their friends are super inclusive and very funny. I had a fantastic time. (They probably think I'm super quiet, but my voice was so shot from a cold I battling that I could - and even now can - barely talk. That was probably all for the best since my words tend to get me in trouble.)

Teresa and Mark was super fun. Mark is very funny with a few beers and several vodka tonics in him. (How'd pacing your athlete on your bike go, buddy?) They also get added to the Christmas Card list (see disclaimer above.)

To learn about Saturday morning, read the post before this one.

All I have to say is I really like Seattle and it's people very much. The PNW is a wonderful place and I'll be back with the family sometime.

This week - San Diego.

Unbelievable!

2010-10-30T16:33:00.000-05:00

I walked into Portage Bay Cafe in Seattle this morning and it was packed - 10 AM in a university town on a football Saturday will do that. I was alone and the hostess asked if I minded sitting at the bar facing the window. No problem - I got to sit right away. As is human nature in a situation like this I chose my seat with insulation between myself and the strangers around me - there was a single empty chair to my left insulating me from the line of people waiting to sit and a single chair to my right insulating me from the couple at the end of the bar.

Midway through my meal an older woman asks me very nicely, "What are the chances you would be willing to slide over a chair to allow me and my granddaughter to sit down?" I gave her a lighthearted look like I was really considering her request and then in my croaky voice from the stupid cold I have I said, "The chances are very good. I'd be more than happy to move." I asked if she had a preference of direction but ultimately I decided to move to the left toward the line of waiting customers to give the two of them a more comfortable experience.

I ate my meal and overheard a little of their conversation. It was nothing particularly interesting, but the fact that these two had such a friendly relationship made me smile. I decided that I was going to pick up their check - the giant rock on "grandma's" hand said she could afford it, but I just really felt like it was something I needed to do.

I finished my meal and the waitress cleared my plate and I sat and waited for my check. And I waited. I was getting a little annoyed. Finally, the waitress comes back, asks if I need anything else and leans closer to my ear to tell me that "the two women to the right of me had picked up my meal."

I could not believe it! First of all they beat me to the punch, so to speak, but it perfectly capped off my incredible visit to Seattle. I thanked them profusely and walked out to my car feeling like I had just been given an incredible gift. ME! A stranger did that for me.

So, for the grandmother and granddaughter at Portage Bay Cafe on Roosevelt in Seattle, Washington at about 10:30 AM on Saturday, October 30, 2010 who did me such an incredible kindness I am sending two pairs of brand new shoes to my friend Bree to help the Marshall Islander community she has adopted in Hawaii for Christmas.

There is something about the venture that I am pursuing right now that feels so incredibly right, to me this is yet another indication that I am on the right path.

Finnism (written)

2010-10-24T20:30:00.001-05:00

It probably doesn't fully qualify as a "Finnism," but I get to make the rules. I'd like to point out one item that makes me laugh, but there are just too many. My kids are something "special."

First Trip

2010-10-20T12:28:00.001-05:00

I am embarking on a few weeks of travel for "something I'm working on." First trip is to loverly Madison, Wisconsin - site of the most epic of Ironmans and impetus for the most "Dickensian" (as in lots and lots...and lots of words) of Ironman race reports (in case you missed it, your "grueling ordeal" starts here.) For what fantastical and magical reason are you visiting the glorious capital of America's Dairyland and Minnesota's Special Needs neighbor, you inquire. Well, if you must drag the details out of me - I am meeting with my accountant.

Don't you worry, I'll provide a detailed explanation of every tax shelter and potential deduction we contrive, because, hey, it's never too early to start thinking about your taxes.

Just You Wait

2010-10-14T14:26:00.000-05:00

I have been remiss in posting, but there is a good reason. Unfortunately, I can't reveal that reason right now. I will know more at this time next week and then I will have much to say. This has been keeping me busy and I'll be doing some travel in the next few weeks that will be blog worthy. (All you people I'll be visiting, you better make it funny and blog worthy or these relationships may not work. ;-) )

Finnism

2010-10-05T15:46:00.000-05:00

My sister: "F, which singers do you like? I bet you like Miranda Cosgrove, Demi Lovato, Salena Gomez. I bet you even like Justin Bieber."

F: "Just because I have long hair and I'm a boy does not mean I like Justin Bieber!"

My Steed Has Returned to the Stable

2010-09-28T11:03:00.000-05:00

I picked up my Cannondale Slice from the bike shop yesterday. I had them strip it down so when I get a new frame I can have it rebuilt. It was sad to see the old girl all stripped down and especially sad that after all the time I spent sweating, spitting and GUing all over her we didn't get to finish the deed. (That sentence could probably be in Penthouse Forum. Sorry.) It's also sad that I won't be riding a Cannondale again. The "deal" they were offering me was no "deal" and didn't instill brand loyalty. So, I found a better ride for way less money (more on that in a later post.)

The question remains - what to do with this frame? I have included some pics of the crack. I could probably have it repaired and keep it as a spare frame or sell it ultra cheep. Suggestions appreciated.

Stripped. Sad.

The Crack

It's a pretty big crack, but I can't believe bad packing caused it.

A different angle.

The Cost!

2010-09-24T09:58:00.001-05:00

MS kept track of her costs for IMWI. I guarantee my costs were higher, mostly because I ate a lot more GUs.

The Cost!

I pulled my training data from Garmin and here is what I did for my training over the last year.

(Some of these totals might be a little light as I did a lot of treadmill, elliptical and stairmill training while recovering from injury.)

IMWI 2010 Race Report - The Final Gasp

2010-09-23T07:35:00.000-05:00

After the finish all I wanted was a Coke. The volunteers helped me find one. Then I just wanted to sit down. They got me over to the athlete's food tent and I found a prime spot.

I look extremely thin (for me anyway.) It took me about four days post race to get back to my pre-race weigh-in weight. (If you look very closely at my arm you can still see my "612" number from Honu burned into my skin over four months ago.)

My wife handed me the phone and told me to call my coach. Apparently she had some words to say to me.

She was extremely pleased with me. (She later awarded me the "Badass Award" for my performance.)

Hey, look I can still walk. I'm waiting to see how CS & MS are finishing. The finish line is to my left. Obviously, I'm still a little disoriented.

MS came through first. I caught up with her in the "food corral."

CS came in shortly after. I caught up with her right after the finish line.

Here are the three of us. The one thing we were all so happy about is that we ALL had a great race. We could all feel happy for ourselves and for each other. And we all trained and succeeded in our separate ways. It was an unbelievable feeling!

Eventually we all caught up with our family and friends. MS had some more training partners to cheer on and CS had to catch up with her kids. I had one thing on my mind.

And this:

I haven't had a drink in over three years (I had a little wine in Italy, so I guess that isn't an entirely true statement) but I wanted a beer. A big, cold beer.

I enjoyed it! A. LOT.

And then, my real motivation.

That's a bone in Porterhouse, folks. (Porterhouse = New York Strip and filet mignon.) And the hashbrowns were the perfect compliment.

Look at the concentration on my face. I'm in "the ZONE."

I finished the whole thing!

I really wanted to come back to cheer the last finishers at midnight, but when I got back to the hotel to drop of A and my mom my meat coma had set in and all I wanted to do was go to bed. So, I did.

The next morning we got packed up to leave. MS and I took the opportunity to turn the "Yes, we are MEAN" sign around.

When I got home my in-laws and sister came over for dinner. And I got cake.

Thanks for taking the journey with me. You can now return to your lives, families and jobs. (Now that I'm done with my race report I'm going to have to figure out what to do with all this free time. Maybe I'll start training again.)

IMWI 2010 Race Report - Your Prayers are Answered (We're finally to the run and the light at the end of the tunnel.)

2010-09-22T11:43:00.021-05:00

I am thinking this will be the last epic post of the IMWI 2010 saga. I think I will have one short last post to wrap things up, but I have made empty promises before, so believe what you will.

T2 was crazy in that it was fricking fast. At least as I remember it. It could have been faster had I not stopped to fill up my water bottle, but that was probably like 45 seconds even thought it felt like an hour. Everything went according to plan and visualization. I got my bib shorts off without taking my top off, got my running shorts on and my shoes on without any hiccups. Hat on and fresh, clean sunglasses (a good call on my part) and I was gone.

My legs felt absolutely fantastic! Fresh, no "weirdness," light and fast. I busted out my first mile in 7:45 WAY too fast. Reigned it in and dropped it to a little over 8:00. I kept telling myself to pull it back. My first 6 miles averaged 8:38 which was right where I wanted to be, but it meant I really dropped off. Here's what happened.

I was feeling so good coming out of T2 and on those first few miles that I kind of freaked myself out a little. I was thinking, "there is no way I can hold this pace for the rest of the race and the last thing I want to do is blow up at mile 20 or 21," (in previous marathons I've had that problem.)

Nothing hurt. There was no cramping. Nutrition and everything was going well. BUT - I decided to err on the side of caution. To make sure I got enough fuel and enough water I started walking the water stops. Quickly, just so I could get a GU in when I needed to and plenty of water. Then I would get back on the horse. Considering my 1/2 marathon split, when I was actually running I had to be on an 8:30 or faster pace. I made the turn and was still feeling good. "Hey, there finish line, see you in a couple hours."

I clicked off a few more miles and then, as I was heading up a long shallow incline, my brain showed up. It said to me, "You really need to take a nap. You're tired. See that grass. Just lay down and take a nap. You're so sleepy." SHIT! My brain believed my brain and the other part of me had to do a little negotiating. "I'm not stopping, but I'll walk." So I walked for about a block and a half - got my shit back together, kicked my own ass and started running again.

The water stops started to get longer. I wasn't walking them quite as quickly. And then I started pulling out all the stops. I couldn't eat another GU. I started shoveling handfuls of pretzels in my mouth. I started drinking the "Gatorade." And then, against my better judgment, I started to down Cokes. Well, those Cokes and the pretzels did the trick. It was just something different and something to think about between water stops. I felt like I had trouble with Coke at Honu, but I was having no problems this time. My actual running pace was picking back up.

In hindsight I realize how much I like this run. I like the two loops and all the switchbacks because you get to see people. I saw Charisa twice and Cathy twice and Ian once. The first time I saw Charisa I yelled at her even though she was about four feet away from me. She shot me a huge Charisa smile and that made me feel good. Then I saw Cathy. She yelled something like, "HEY - Todd! Looking Good!" My response was something coherent like, "Cath. hey. good......looking." IDIOT! I missed Ian on the first loop but saw him on the second. I yelled at him to - "IAN! Looking Strong!" His response sounded a bit like this:

He may have looked strong, but obviously he was feeling like hell. I saw Charisa and Cathy again on the second lap but they were both working/suffering as was I, so I don't recall what I said if anything.

Time for some pictures. Some of these were by pros. Some of these weren't.

I was coming up on mile 20 and 21 and I am starting to realize that I feel pretty fricking good. Again, no cramping, no bonking, no super speed, but I really felt like I could keep going. It was at this time I started to think about finishing time. My goal to finish in daylight was secure. Now, if I could just figure out more accurately. I didn't swim or bike with my watch so all I had was my run time with me and no idea how I done on the bike. Then it struck me. I can totally figure out my potential finishing time by the time of day on my watch.

So I started to do math (not my strong suit) based on the 7:00 AM start time. I figured I'd be around 11:15 or 11:20 at the pace I was going. I redid the math after another mile or two and realized that I was going to be closer to 11 hours. And then something else struck me - I had about three miles left, wasn't close to being dehydrated or under-fueled - if I ran the water stops I might barely break 11:00. My body had gotten used to it's little respites so I had to be an asshole to myself and not let my body stop.

Heading up State Street I got behind a woman and a man who were running about the same pace as I was. I stared at that woman's back the entire way up State Street and around part of capital square. The two of them started to pull away, but I knew I was going to easily be under 11 hours so I let them go so I could get a nice clean finish line photo. I wanted a good photo so I tucked my sunglasses in my jersey pocket and made the turn into the finish chute.

Here's my finish line photo:

WEAK! It looks like I'm the Pope blessing the crowd. WTF? I had something so much more heroic in mind, but went with something more reserved. Never again.

Just after I crossed the line. I am an Ironman! (That's pretty cool.)

I'll wrap it all up with one more post showing what I did immediately after the finish and lots of pics.

IMWI 2010 Race Report - DUDE! Really!? (Yep, we're only to the bike.)

2010-09-21T13:39:00.007-05:00

I bet you thought this part of the race would never come. (Actually, I know you were secretly praying it would never come so you wouldn't have to continue with these ridiculous race reports.)

I ran to my bike with my shoes in hand. Maybe it wasn't the quickest option, but it's what I had decided to do. I hadn't been practicing my shoes-on-the-pedals-flying-bike-mount so I opted for the slow, safe and infinitely more dorky step-over-push-off method.

Down the helix and on the course. (I will try to keep this short - don't laugh - how much can I say about pedaling my bike? Oh, just you wait.) As we recall, I had forgotten my sunscreen so when I came running out of transition I shot by the sun screen "slatherers" and had to go back to get "applied." I had the presence of mind to have them slather my forehead so I didn't end up with a stupid "vent burn" from my helmet.

About two miles into the course we get on a section of narrow, bumpy bike path. It's a "no passing" zone and it lasts for what, maybe, like 3/4 of a mile at most. I get behind someone who is kind of poking along - doesn't bother me, I need to get my heart rate down a little bit. Some total douchebag is yelling a couple of people behind me, "GET MOVING! C'MON, PICK UP THE PACE!" Dude - really? Going slow for this short section is not going to make an once of difference in your day. If it really means that much to you, perhaps you should have swam a little faster or not dicked around in transition so long. Seems to me the only person you have to blame for your position is yourself. Prick! Once we got through the "no passing" zone I got around the guy in front of me, but I don't recall anyone jetting out and around me as they tore up the course. Hmm, perhaps D-Bag isn't as fast as he believes himself to be.

Shit happens, right? So here is some shit that happened. The tape holding my handlebar tape started to come off and it was getting my hands all full of black sticky stuff. That was annoying. I kept trying to tear it off without completely undoing it and kept almost going off the road. I tried to ignore it after awhile with varying degrees of success.

On the first little climb that required me to shift to the small ring, I slammed the shift lever down and dropped my chain. FUCK! Half way up a hill on the side of the road is not where you want to be fixing your chain. 30 seconds, fixed and done. Now, I have dirty hands. I hate that.

My nutrition plan was to take three salt tabs every hour. Here comes hour one. I pull out the canister with my salt tabs, try to flip it open with my thumb (done a hundred times during training) and proceed to drop the unopened canister. FUCK! In a flash of brilliance I had placed an identical canister of salt tabs in my "needs especial" bag. I could easily do the first half of the bike without salt.

The bike went along without major incident (this is good for you, because if a MAJOR incident had happened we might be here for weeks.) At water stops I was grabbing water bottles like a pro. Kept my speed up, but reasonable. Pointed to the bottle I wanted - grabbed it - squeezed as much in my mouth as possible - tossed it - pointed to and grabbed a second to carry on my bike. At one particular stop I came in way too fast. I went to grab the bottle, but it careened off my hand flying through the air and more than likely striking an unsuspecting volunteer in the face (or I like to think so.) I slowed down and grabbed the next two bottles. Nobody's perfect.

On the bike I had to pee. But I just couldn't actually "pee on the bike." I had never practiced it and although I did try - I have a horribly bashful bladder and it wasn't my bike - I just couldn't do that. I made a port-a-potty stop. It was actually a welcome break.

I also stopped for my special needs bag, got my salt tabs and another bottle and soldiered on.

About 3/4 of the way through the fact that I was riding a borrowed bike with a less than perfect fit started to become apparent. My shoulders were starting to get tight causing my neck to stiffen up and I started to get a screaming tension headache. I started to sit up a lot more, coasting down the hills instead of attacking them and standing to pedal slowly up the uphills to try and stretch out some. I could see it reflected in my computer data. My guess is it probably made about a five- to ten-minute difference. But, hey - I'll take it.

Coming down John Nolan Drive back into Madison I really found myself looking forward to the run. Not necessarily because the bike was so bad, although I really wanted to be able to stretch out my back and shoulders, but because everything was really feeling so good.

Up "the Helix" - much easier than I had expected - and off to transition. Legs feeling good.

Here are a bunch of pictures. Some are obviously me as they were taken by professionals. The others are probably not of me as they were taken by A and my mom. I'm SO glad I made my helmet so ugly and visible, but you still couldn't pick me out.

I really hate the way I look on a bike.

IMWI 2010 Race Report - Your 'Grueling Ordeal' Continues (The Swim)

2010-09-20T10:12:00.014-05:00

The plan for this post is to be less wordy. I have pictures to post and how much can I really say about a swim that was over SO FAST.

Woke up too early as is usual before a race. I seem to have an intense fear of sleeping through my alarm, which has never even come close to happening, but my nervous brain keeps me safe. I ate my breakfast and got dressed and out of the room without waking my wife.

I met CS & MS in the lobby as agreed and we drove to the Monona Terrace.

Leaving the hotel - shitting in our pants.

I found a good parking spot very near the "needs especial" bag drop and - Starbucks! I can't drink coffee race morning but everyone else can. We knew from volunteering last year that the line gets long early so the girls dropped their bags and headed to get coffee. I kept forgetting things and made three trips back to the car to get stuff. Ironman brain.

MS met up with her training group and CS and I went off to take care of ourselves. We dropped our nutrition on our bikes and got body marked, ran into MS and her training crew and walked around nervously. I ran into Ian on the way to my bike and chatted him up since we were walking the same direction. In hindsight he may have wanted me to leave him alone but he was gracious and kind when he told me, "LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!" (He didn't say anything of the sort, but he did have his "game face" on. Or it may have been his "I really have to take a dump, but I can't and it's killing me" face. Let's call it his "game face.")

CS and I went to find a bathroom, walked all over and found one with the shortest line. Well, the women's had the shortest line, the men's was a mile long (guys have a lot fewer toilets and you can't crap in a urinal. Unless of course you're a drunk college student in a bar or at a football game, then I guess anything goes.) Myself and three other guys saw a couple of guys walk out of the women's room, shot glances all around and waltzed right in. Everybody poops, right?

(At this point you should be glad that I don't have pictures.)

CS and I decided it was time to suit up. It took me a good 20 minutes of sweaty work to get my wetsuit on the one time I tried so I knew I had to allow enough time. We found a quiet area with lots of room and laughed at me as I struggled into my sausage casing.

Yes, that's a plastic bag on my hand. I needed CS to help me pull it out. Then I took the top off so I had to got through the same ordeal on the way to get in the water. I bet I could shaved minutes off my swim time if I didn't do that twice.

Finally suited up and then partially unsuited we walked up to start our "death march" down "The Helix" to the swim start. We ran into A and my mom at the main entrance.

"Oh My God! What are you doing here!?"

Me and A. I kind of look like a giant. And a bodybuilder. She's super cute, isn't she?

My mom, me and A - I like my "ladies" petite.

Me and CS - both rockin' the kick-ass TYR Hurricane Cat 5 wetsuit.

We said our goodbyes and headed to our "march of the penguines." On the way, we were picked out of the crowd.

"Yeeeesss! Can I help you?"

From there the swim was pretty straight forward. It took forever to get to the water. I knew I had to be in the front row not too far from the inside buoy. When I finally got in the water they were playing the National Anthem and in the most unpatriotic move ever, I swam over around and through the crowd of people to get the spot I wanted. I was very surprised how loosely everyone was packed. There was plenty of room to float and tread water.

When the canon went off I was out of there like shit through a goose (I paint a nice mental picture, don't I?) I think I led for, like, 15 seconds. You can see me here.

I was kind of annoyed by the other swimmers. We are at the tip of the spear and are obviously fast swimmers - can we work together and not freak out about being touched a little bit? If I touched feet once or twice they would kick like crazy so I had a hard time finding some feet to swim on. It was easier to move to the side and swim in some cleaner water. A straight up draft would have been quicker, but I I knew I was still getting a break even if I wasn't directly behind someone.

That first long leg seemed to take forever. The short leg was kind of a traffic jam and then the second long leg wasn't too bad. From there it's really a blur. The second lap flew by.

On the last turn the swim out arch seemed a million miles away. I was passing people coming up to the ramp. I'm always surprised by that. I don't really turn on the jets or anything, I just keep steady. Whatever.

Up and out with no problem.

Imagine how much faster I would have been without my hand caught in my zipper.

The wetsuit strippers did a fantastic job and I was headed up the "The Helix." Afterward, my mom commented, "You looked kind of stiff running up the ramp after the swim." "Um, I was running barefoot up a hill and I was trying to keep it to an easy jog so I didn't blow up before I even got on the bike." "You were running barefoot?" I love my mom.

I made it through transition and headed out to the the bike.

I am NOT wearing compression socks.

Here comes 112 miles on a borrowed bike.

IMWI 2010 Race Report - What the F*ck Happened? (WARNING: boring)

2010-09-18T05:00:00.001-05:00

I'm having a hard time remembering Saturday.

Let's see. CS and I got up early to drive the bike course. We dropped MS off on the way so she could meet up with her training group to swim in the "rain swept boiling lake of doom." Again, I wasn't interested in battling waves prior to race day. So, CS and I drove the bike course in the rain and because I am a directional retard we kept getting lost even though we had two GPSs, written turn-by-turn directions and a map. We were following a couple of other cars who were doing the same thing and wanted so badly to blow by them, slow down and then have them pass me so I could accuse them of drafting and just be a general asshole. I didn't do that, but CS and I had a lot of laughs contemplating it.

Yep, we're in Wisconsin. Hope I don't run into this guy on race day.

Driving the course never really gives you a good sense of what the ride will be like, but it's nice to pick out some landmarks to gauge distance and the location of tough sections. There were also the landmarks where it would be necessary to picture "butterflies and rainbows," sing Christmas Carols ("JINGLE BELLS, JINGLE BELLS, MOTHER FUCKING JINGLE ALL THE MOTHER FUCKING WAY. DASHING THROUGH THE FUCKING SNOW...") and weep quietly. We were anticipating a good day.

We headed back to the hotel (at some time we had breakfast, but I can't for the life of me remember what it was or where. I'm sure it was delicious and I did funny stuff and again was generally an obnoxious ass.) We went for a very quick ride to the Monona Terrace and back. I doubled the amount of time spent on my bike with that ride. It's a good thing we went when we did because I hit a bump and my left arm rest twisted. We went down to Machinery Row Bikes and they did a kick ass job making some last minute adjustments and making sure everything was tight. CS had to get her bike checked in early because she had to pick up her family from the airport so we headed back. I went through my routine of dressing up my bike real purdy like, laying out my Bike and Run bags, going through my transitions in my head and then again as I ticked off all the stuff in the bags. (Flashes of my type-A personality.)

(I just reread this section and it's as boring as toast. Sorry. It's because I'm having a hard time remembering Saturday, which leads me to believe nothing particularly interesting happened or at least nothing at this time of the day. I guess it was pretty business like. Whatever. Maybe I'll make up some shit to make it more interesting. And I could probably add some random pictures, too.)

After CS left I started to feel lonely. I dialed up some adult movies...NO I DIDN'T! I called MS - she was on her bike so I figured I'd go for a little run. 20 minutes and done and I fricking stink. When MS gets back we take our bikes to check in. Uneventful.

Wait, no - this is where I met Ian and Charisa. We were all dropping our bags off in transition. I thought I saw Charisa's husband, Steven, in the hall and then, boom, there Ian and she were. They are even nicer in person. (Although, Ian is kind of fat - no he's not! I'm kidding. Charisa is super cute and she smelled like mountain prairie flowers - no she didn't! I'm kidding - she kind of smelled like Lucky Charms, strange.) We talked and then laughed and laughed about drowning in a wetsuit and other hilarious, but impossible tragedies. We all had people waiting for us (we are all kind of big deals) so we parted ways. Ian and I sized each other up which I mistakenly interpreted as an invitation to lean in for a hug. Ian interpreted it differently - he shook my hand. Following that faux pas Charisa raised her clenched fist, which I initially interpreted as a punch to my throat in defense of Ian from my weird attempt to wrap myself around his rippling masculinity. I flinched and closed my eyes. When my eyes flickered open Charisa stood there with her fist out, I chuckled uncomfortably and then laid upon her the most feeble and awkward fist bump in the history of Ironman transition bag drops. It was like I never learned anything from voting for Obama and watching his tender fist bumps with his wife. **idiot**

MS's husband and A were driving to Madison together and were still a ways out. I'm sure we did some other shit, but all I can remember is going with MS for a late lunch/early dinner again at Monty's Blue Plate Diner. Once again, I had a boatload of food. Then we did some other things. Then we went back to the hotel to wait for our spouses. They showed up, along with my mom. Then some other stuff happened.

(Are you guys as bored reading this as I am writing it? Let me see if I can wrap it up.)

A, my mom and I decided to go to dinner after I finished putting my "needs especial" bags together. We were going to go to a pasta place, but it was packed so we went to this white tablecloth steak house instead - Johnny Delmonicos. I had half a bowl of soup and half a salad since it was late and I had already eaten a giant meal. Our waiter was hilarious. When he described the porterhouse steak that wasn't on the menu he could see the lust in my eyes. I explained that I was racing in the morning and he said, "Oh, just come in and have it after the race." Hmmmm, I'll consider that. Strongly.

Then we went back to the hotel and went to sleep.

(MS & CS - if you remember anything even remotely entertaining about Saturday, please remind me. My readership is probably half what it was at the beginning of this post. From 4 to 2.)

I hope my posts get better from here.

Up Yours, Customer - The Flip Side

2010-09-17T11:30:00.003-05:00

Something very important that I forgot to include in my previous post/rant is that the incidents that I describe are not unique to me. Unsolicited, people shared their negative experiences with these businesses. Lots of people having similar experiences with the same companies, stores, people says to me there is an issue.

Now, I must say that through this whole thing I have run into some incredible examples of superior customer service. I have to say that the small local bike shop near me is really great. They are friendly and they really try hard. There service is great, but the work lacks sometimes so they are not my 100% go to guys, but I know if I'm in a pinch, they will take care of me.

While trying to find a bike I was impressed by people who I talked to and their willingness to help me out. One company in particular, not a bike company, bent over backward to make contact with my bike company's local rep. The pro they sponsor is a fantastic person and I know now why they are partners. Another pro contacted his bike sponsor and again, bent over backward to find me a bike - and this guy was trying to make some money at the race. His bike sponsor was super cool and had me covered if I didn't have a ride when I got to Madison. Again, this guy is a great guy and the company he keeps is a reflection of that.

Now that I am trying to navigate this mess many companies and stores have come to the front to help me get the satisfaction I can't seem to get locally. They all fully realize that I might not buy from them, but it's the effort that counts and the willingness to help that sets them apart and will draw me back to them if I have questions or need advice. It drives me crazy that I have to look so hard to find these people.

Then, just recently I needed to get a technical jacket altered and I dropped an open email to one of our local outdoor retailers on their website. In no time I got a response. They couldn't help me but they gave me the name of a place that could. They gave me a contact name and forwarded my email to them. Then the person who they recommended to me sent me a follow up email. That's the shit I'm talking about. Why is that so hard? And these stores are big, established and busy - they're not "hungry" start-ups.

Thanks for listening. Look for more insulting, foul-mouthed, posts about Ironman Wisconsin in the next few days.

Up Yours, Customer!

2010-09-16T21:38:00.015-05:00

I debated writing this post. First, it's a rant. Second, if I'm not careful I might not ever be able to buy anything in this country again. I finally decided it must be written, because I can't stand it any longer.

What the hell has happened to customer service? Anyone who sells anything, do you realize that the people who buy stuff from you are your "customers?" Do you realize that there are a limited number of said customers? Do you realize that your customers have an almost infinite number of sources to buy the exact same products that you sell and a lot of times can find them cheaper? Do you realize that your customers have voices and they talk to their friends and acquaintances, Facebook friends and Twitter followers around the world and have blogs? If you realize all these things, then why are you and/or your employees such complete douchebags to your customers? One incidence of bad customer service can quite literally circle the globe in hours. So where is all this stemming from. It's from a series of bad customer service experiences over the last few months. And now I've just had it.

Months ago I had purchased a new bike from an online retailer. This retailer indicated my bike would be ready by a certain date. As the date drew closer I contacted them to see what the status of my bike was (hey, I was excited.) Well, they informed me, the manufacturer was having a hard time getting the particular frame in my size so there would be a delay. Why did I have to call you, retailer? When you knew there was going to be a delay you should have contacted me immediately. I am spending thousands of dollars with you and more then likely it wouldn't be the last thousand dollars I'd spend if you took care of me. I check in again as the new date grew near because I now don't trust the retailer (and I was still excited.) Again, there will be a delay of a few more days. Really!? I have a race out of state to which I will have to ship my bike. I need it ASAP. Again, why didn't you contact me right away when you knew there would be further delay? Was I foolish to buy my bike from an out-of-state online retailer? Some might think so, but I do it all the time with Amazon and other online retailers and it never seems to be an issue.

I get my bike. Now, I need to have it fit. I contact a local bike shop with a reputation for well qualified fitters. I make an appointment and show up on the day and time. I wheel my bike in - a brand they don't carry - past 4 employees not helping anyone. I lean my bike against the wall near the fitting area and wait for at least ten minutes. Someone finally comes over to ask if I need any help. Dude! I am standing here near the fitting area with a bike you don't carry and my shoes and shorts in my hand. "I have an appointment for a fitting," "Oh, let me see if I can find someone." Really!? I made a god-damned appointment! Your fitter should be waiting here for me - not vice versa.

My fit goes along fine. I get to watch myself on a video monitor from the front and side. The fitter makes all sorts of adjustments and seems to eyeball everything. No measurements, no double checking just to be sure. I have to admit that the fit was good. I understand too that after you do enough fits, you would know what looks right, but it would seem to me to be a good thing just to take a couple of measurements to make the customer feel confident. That isn't the major issue, now I'm just picking nits, because the fact I was ignored bugged me so much. After the fitting the guy puts my bike on the rack up front and double checks the brakes, makes some adjustments, tweaks the derailleurs a touch and sends me on my way. Once again, it's true I'm not spending a ton of money in your store right now and that I didn't buy my bike from you, but I did come to you to be fit when I could go to lots of other places. With a good experience I would more than likely be coming back to spend lots of money - now I begrudgingly spend money in your store because you are the only local dealer of items that I need.

I take my newly fit bike for a 40 mile ride the next day, but I am having some brake rubbing and other little niggling issues, so I take it to the small local bike shop about a mile from my house. I figured I'd give these guys a chance and how much can go wrong with a quick brake adjustment. I leave it over night and tell them that it's a new bike, give it the once over. I get a call later in evening saying everything is fine, but that the "once over" will be a little more expensive because as they were trying to adjust the brakes they realized the wheels were so out of true they had to take care of them first. They were just going to charge me for a drivetrain clean and not the wheel truing but they just didn't want me to be surprised. (The cost difference from what I requested and what they were going to charge me for was, like, $10 or $15. Hardly a deal breaker.) So now I'm totally bugged! The "Best Bike Store" in town didn't catch this issue and I gave them the same info and spent more money with them (not that the amount spent should make ANY difference.) My very small local bike shop did a way better job than "the best."

So months of training on my bike and my big race is right around the corner. I take my bike to another big bike shop primarily because they are the authorized dealer of my bike. They do a good job of checking me in, asking what I need done, do a quick pull of the brakes and shift through the derailleurs and double check my chain with the chain gauge. As I suspected, and forgot to tell them, I need a new chain. So we're starting off pretty good. I explain my situation with my race coming up and ask about quick turnaround and they put me in the queue with everyone else. Now, I'm not faulting them for this. It's not their responsibility to adjust the expectations of their other customers for my lack of planning. It never hurts to ask and I can take no for an answer.

The next day I get a call. There is a crack in my frame. It really shouldn't be ridden. I won't rehash the details of finding a new bike - that story's been told ad nauseum. They immediately made some calls to the bike manufacturer to investigate what could be done when I got back from the race. I received a call from the bike shop asking questions about whether I had shipped my bike anywhere and I knew where they were going. Did I pack it with a "spreader bar" (my words) in the rear triangle? I considered lying, but I had to be honest - "nope." Ah, well since you didn't do that, the manufacturer won't warranty the frame. "It was in a hard case." "They still won't warranty it because the damage probably happened in travel."

I contacted the local rep for this company with my story - freely admitting my rookie mistake and asking if there was anything they could do to help me get a new frame. Over a week later, I still haven't gotten a response. I contacted the bike shop to see if they could offer any suggestions. "We're having a big sale. Can I have our warranty guy get back to you after the sale?" Luckily, I'm not in a hurry, but really!? You're sale doesn't mean shit to me and apparently I don't mean shit to you. I take it upon myself to contact the manufacturer on their "customer service" line. I explain my situation and they tell me they offer a crash replacement plan for that particular frame - 25% off retail - $2,100. At that price I could buy a new frame from somewhere else. Why wouldn't you give me a deal that couldn't be beat to keep me on your product?

As you know, I decided to shop around for a frame from a different manufacturer. I like my bike a lot, but I certainly haven't built any loyalty for this company. And believe me, I am a VERY loyal consumer if you fulfill your end of the bargain.

Soon after I solicited suggestions on Facebook and Twitter I got a message from a Facebook friend in Canada whom I've never met. He had some questions for me. I called him and he explained his experience with bikes and broken frames and manufacturers and warranties. Apparently this guy has dished out more abuse on more bikes than you can imagine. He asked me to send a picture of where the crack was.

This guy was surprised that they thought the crack was due to shipping. In his experience, shipping damage of the kind they were indicating, usually appears on the outside of the seat stay, not on the inside. (Makes sense - basic physics of tension and compression.) He also asked if they were SURE it wasn't just a crack in the clear coat or paint. Is anyone sure it is a crack in the actual carbon fiber? It didn't look like a gaping crack to him, but he was only looking at a low quality picture. He was really surprised at the crash replacement policy. He has had several crash replacement claims (apparently he and his wife have a hard time remembering they have a roof rack) but never with this company. In his experiences the variety of manufactures provide a crash replacements at damn near cost. The only better deal is the employee discount. His final suggestion was to look into getting it repaired. He had worked several times with a place in California that specializes in repairing carbon fiber, including bikes. They have worked miracles for him and he figured that the damage he was seeing would be a pretty easy, straight forward fix for these guys.

This conversation was really the impetus for this post/rant. The fact that I was given few to no options, a less than loyalty inducing crash replacement "deal" and just short-shrift all around really incensed me. Triathlon is a growing sport. The demographics have shown that the participants in this sport earn high salaries and, frankly, spend a shit-load of money. Every. Fucking. Year! Not just once and done.

Although I now have some options to pursue outside of buying a new frame I am still seriously considering buying a new frame just to get away from the douchebag manufacturer. The question that always has to be asked, is the time and hassle worth the money? I don't know. If I decide to get a new frame I'll do a little more research on the company and it's policies. But that pisses me off as well. Why should I have to do that?

The whole experience with the various bike shops - their arrogance, indifference, unwillingness to help, lack of employee autonomy to satisfy a customer - along with the treatment by the manufacturer - "that's our policy" - makes me want to start my own triathlon shop. A shop where the customer service experience is second to none. Whether you bought your bike in the shop or not. Whether you are a novice triathlete or a pro. Whether you bought a new tube or a $20,000 custom rig. Whether you're asking "stupid" questions or have have "highly technical" inquiries. Someplace willing to go the extra mile, with manufacturers that care about their customers. Why does that have to be such a dream? Maybe it needs to become a reality.

IMWI 2010 Race Report - Headin' to Madison

2010-09-15T10:44:00.016-05:00

The drive down was uneventful. Lots of good laughs with MS and CS. Stopped to eat at a little diner, "The Timber Valley Restaurant," on the way and had two breakfasts in one sitting. As we were leaving CS spied a woodcarving by the gas pumps. "Hey, why don't you guys go hump that thing?" Well, you don't have to ask me and MS twice to hump something.

MS brought a sign for our car.

"Yes, we're MEAN"

Got to Monona Terrace and got checked in. Shot texts and emails around to everyone trying to meet up, but everyone was spread all over. Had a good time messing with all the tightly wound athletes and some of the far too serious volunteers. I was getting "elevator eyes" (dooown, up) while we were waiting in line (it wasn't just me, certain people were sizing up everyone.) Really? Get over yourself already. At weigh-in I stepped on the scale and then threw an absolute fit. "THAT NUMBER IS NOT RIGHT! Wait, let me take off my shirt. Don't write anything yet. I bet it's my pants, let me take those off. No? I WANT A DIFFERENT SCALE." To CS who was standing at the next scale. "GET OFF OF THERE. I NEED A DIFFERENT SCALE. MINE'S OBVIOUSLY BROKEN!" CS & MS were laughing as was the volunteer at my scale, but CS's volunteer looked a little concerned. CS assured her I was joking.

Had more fun with everyone getting our packets. I breezed right through, for some reason, and as I kept moving I was making loud comments about "priority check-in," "special privileges," "I'm #1." The guy following me was having a good time with it. Other people seemed to wonder what I knew that they had missed. (I am so obnoxious when I'm nervous.)

I wandered up to the expo to find a couple people while the girlies finished up.

The new TYR rep for our region used to live by my sister and we had talked about a week before so I found him and we chatted at the expo. He offered to lend me his TYR Hurricane Cat 5 wetsuit and I said, "Sure, why not just use everything for the first time on race day. Think I'll go buy some K-Swiss shoes, too."

Plans to go for a swim ride and run went by the wayside as we were running out of time and the water was super choppy. Choppy water doesn't bother me, but I figured why exhaust myself. If it's choppy on race day I'll deal with it then.

We checked into the hotel. Unknown to me I have Starwood Preferred Super Diamond Special Platinum Secret Agent status so I got a room on the "Club Level." Sounds fancy, right? It just means I have to use my room key to get the elevator to that floor - which is a huge pain in the ass - and the "lounge" is on that floor - whatevs. The room is the same as everyone elses. My room was the first off the elevator and next to the ice machine. I asked to move rooms right away and they moved me to the "murder suite" - the room at the very end of the hall next to the fire escape where someone can murder you and run down the stairs and never be found. Stellar.

CS & I went to a late lunch/early dinner at Monty's Blue Plate Diner while MS met up with her training group for dinner. I had found this place highly recommended online and it had a great reputation for vegetarian food. I'm not a vegetarian, but I'll eat it if it's good as it tends to be easier on my nervous stomach and gives me gas which is always a good tension breaker.

We both had "Meatless Meatloaf of the Gods" and it was SO good I wanted to climb under it like a comforter and pull the gravy/sauce up under my chin. (My mouth is watering just thinking about it.)

We headed back down to the capital and CS & I hung at Starbucks while we waited for the athlete's dinner to finish and the "mandatory meeting" to start. We struck up a conversation with a woman whose husband was doing his first IM. She was funny and all the complaints and stories she told us about living with an obsessed triathlete mirrored exactly the events that happened at my house. I kept telling her she had to commiserate with my wife as they had the same experience. The TYR rep met us at Starbucks with his wetsuit, so I got to walk into the athlete's meeting with my wetsuit under my arm. I guess it's better than walking in with bike shoes and compression socks on.

The "mandatory meeting" was a hoot (not really.) What I gleaned from the whole thing can be boiled down to: Wear your mother fucking chip! DO NOT piss or shit in public, mother fucker! Oh, and don't draft, but it'll be nearly impossible to draft since this bike course will make you it's bitch before you're done! Good luck. (Hope you survive, mother fuckers.) I can't play anything straight so I was cracking jokes the whole time and had CS in hysterics and the other people around us snickering and shaking in their seats. (No need to fart to break the tension at this venue, thank god.)

From there it was back to the hotel to put some of our shit together, try on my wetsuit and hop on my bike (I brought my trainer since I hadn't had a chance to actually ride my bike outside.) After struggling into my wetsuit over the course of 20 minutes, I was sweating profusely, dehydrated, had a dislocated shoulder, a strained hamstring, two torn meniscus and was too exhausted to get on the bike for more than 5 minutes. Oh, well. Off too bed. (The wetsuit did fit perfectly, btw.)

Next up: Saturday (hopefully more pictures for the word reading impaired/disinterested and D.)

IMWI 2010 Race Report - Summary

2010-09-14T11:26:00.015-05:00

There is so much to write and many pictures to post so I will provide a summary first and then get all detaily over the next couple of days.

Before I do anything else, I need to say thanks.

Thanks A for putting up with my obsession for the last year. Your support made the training so much easier and you kept me focused on what was most important - family.
Mom, thanks for listening to me talk incessantly about the training and race. And thanks for coming to watch. It was great having you there.
Sis, thanks for listening as well and making sure I don't embarrass the family. The Olson's do have a reputation to maintain.
Thanks to my wonderful coach and friend (who I have still never met face to face,) Amy Kloner. Who would have guessed that after I implied you were fat, when in fact you were recovering from a concussion, that we would make such a great team and I'd have just the most amazing day out there? My wife even bestowed you with the title of "The Other Woman," but she seemed OK with that.
Huge thanks (again) to Kerry and Cathy Yndestad ("TFY") for saving my ass by lending me a bike. It worked great and I didn't pee on it. You two are perfect examples of why it's so great to be part of the tri community.
Thanks to two of my favorite pros - Ian ("You're my hero") Mikelson and Charisa ("I love you") Wernick. You guys were unbelievably helpful with my bike situation, super to cool to talk to, gave great pre-race advice and have made this whole adventure funny and fun.
Thanks to Maggs Morris for trying to save me from myself and reminding me to wear sunscreen, but then I left it (Scape SPF 30) in the hotel room and had to rely on the "slatherers" (who did an admirable job) but I still got a nice burn.
Thanks to Rachel Ross for reminding me that I am white.
Thanks to my Aunt Judi for her "words of encouragement (?)"

Thanks to all of you who sent tweets and FaceBook messages and good luck. It was fun to know you were all out there following little ol' me around the farm fields of WI.

I'll just get the meat of the race.

Pre-race

Got out of the room without waking my wife. Ate as planned. Drank as planned. Dressed as planned.
Met MS and CS in the lobby and we piled our crap in the car. Got down to Capital Square easily and found great place to park. Dropped off special needs bags and I had to keep returning to the car because I kept forgetting stuff - like all my bike nutrition.
Met CS & MS at Starbucks and followed my better judgment by not having any coffee - we don't need to be reminded what happens.
Went and got body marked, threw the computer and nutrition on the bike and went inside to get ready for the swim. Since I was riding a borrowed bike I threw the "don't try anything new on race day" rule right out the window and proceeded to struggle into a wetsuit I borrowed from the TYR rep (thanks Mark Evenson!) the day before, tried on once and never swam in. It was the top of the line TYR Hurricane Category 5. It's super sweet!
Walking to the swim start I was still getting my sleeves on and trying not to accidentally punch anyone.
Finally got in the water as they were singing the national anthem. Was totally unpatriotic and swam to my starting spot in the front line.

The Swim

Not to toot my own horn (which has to hurt, btw,) but my swim kicked ass! I was in the front row and busted ass out of there at the cannon. I think I might have been leading for like 15 seconds and then I could see people coming from the outside.
I felt strong and comfortable the entire swim. No thoughts of when will this be over, why am I doing this, etc. Totally in the moment. Still can't swim in a fricking straight line, but wasn't all over the place.
Finishing the swim I was coming up on the slower swimmers and just making sure I was sighting on the "Swim Out" arch. Didn't want to start going around again.
Missed my time coming out, but didn't worry about it. Got my wetsuit stripped off with no problems and trotted up "The Helix." Made sure I didn't kill myself.

No problems. The volunteers are fantastic. Headed out to get my bike. Saw friends along the way. Go to my bike, got my shoes on and away I went. I have to say (again, not tooting my own horn) it's surreal running through T1 with so many bikes still racked - I felt like I may have done something wrong to be in this position.

The Bike

Coming out of T1 I caught the time 1:15:xx. Thought, "All right, probably a couple minutes over an hour. I'll take that."
On the bike and everything is fine. Everything is fairly comfortable and I'm just touring.
We get to a short no passing zone at the very beginning of the race and I get behind someone going slower - some douchebag is yelling, "GET MOVING! PICK UP THE PACE! C'MON, GET MOVING!" from behind me. I mean we are less than 3 miles out and the no passing area is like a 1/2 mile at the most. It's interesting I didn't see this guy jet around me when we could pass again - douchebag!
Bike was good. It's a challenging course to say the least, but nothing impossible. My training was perfect even if my bike wasn't.
First hill that required the small ring, I dropped my chain. FUCK! Realized why (bad shifting on my part) fixed it quick and it didn't happen again.
Hour 1 and it's time to take my salt tabs (very important for a heavy sweater like me) and I drop them. FUCK! I have extras in my special needs bag and know that I'll be fine with the GUs and fluids I have. One less thing to worry about on this first lap.
Grabbed water bottles at the water stops like a pro. Only missed one when I came in too hot and probably broke the volunteer's hand and gave the next volunteer down a black eye with flying bottle.
At some point started to think about my swim time and realized that the 1:15 I had seen more than likely included the pro's 10 minute head start. My swim was an hour or possibly under. That buoyed my spirits for awhile.
Two stops - one to take a leak (can't pee on the bike, especially a borrowed bike) and one at special needs. Both were nice breaks if only for a minute or two.
Second lap I was getting a bad tension headache from the bike not being fit perfectly. I found myself sitting up more in the last quarter of the bike to try get some relief in my neck and shoulders. I knew what was happening and knew that as soon as I got off the bike I'd be good.
Coming back into town I was wondering where I might find a marathon to run and laughing to myself.

Up "The Helix" feeling fresh and actually excited to run. Off my bike with no incidents. Into T2 changing. Drop my bike shorts as planned and practiced. On with the run shorts and other gear.
I stopped to fill my hand bottle at the fricking slowest thermos. Good thing I had it, even if it really was more psychological.

The Run

My legs felt perfect! First mile by my watch = 7:45. WAY too fast. Slowed down the next miles - on purpose, knowing I couldn't maintain that pace. Flew through five or six miles and was concerned that I was still going to have a hard time maintaining this pace and still get enough fluids and fuel.
Walked the water stops to make sure I had time to eat and drink.
First lap came and went like nothing. Got to about mile 15 or 16 and I was tired (I know, understatement of the century,) but my mind was just telling my body to lay down. All I could think of was a nap. I compromised and decided to walk about a block and half. Other than the water stops that was the only walking I did, which made me feel pretty good about myself.
From there on I started drinking Coke at the water stops and that took care of my need for a nap.
At mile 21 I was still feeling pretty good. I wasn't falling apart. I was getting right back on pace after the water stops. No GI issues. Really, feeling as good or even better than I expected at this point. It was about here that I started to think about finishing time. Obviously, I would be finishing in daylight, but I was trying to be more precise. Then I remembered I have the time of day on my watch and I started doing the math. I figure, "OK probably about 11:15 or 11:20." Then I'd run a mile or so and check the time again and redo the math. About 3 miles from the finish I did the math again and realized I could very well finish in 11:0X hours. Then I looked at my mile splits as they came up and two miles out I am realizing I can actually break 11 hours if I continue at this pace and don't stop. My combination of adequate fueling/hydration and "finish line fever" propelled me through the last couple of water stops without slowing.
I had been following a couple of people pretty closely and they picked it up a little going into the final straight before the finish chute and since there wasn't anyone super close behind me, I let them go. I was going to finish under 11 hours and I was going to have a clean finish line photo.
I tucked my sunglasses in my back pocket and came across the line with arms up, a smile and salt caked around my eyes.

I. AM. AN. IRONMAN!

How to Recognize Me at IMWI

2010-09-09T15:03:00.007-05:00

For those of you who would like to meet up with me (or more than likely, completely avoid me) I am providing this guide.

"And verily ye shall recognize me by...

my chewed-up cap...

my uglified helmet with hi-vis orange tape accents so my mom & wife can recognize me at a distance...

my rooster ridin' hedgehog...

my pipe smoking alter ego...

and my do-it-yourself iron-on jail house M-Dot tattoo."

I'll also probably be the guy running around the bike transition screaming, "SOMEONE STOLE MY BIKE! WHERE IS MY FUCKING BIKE! THAT'S NOT MY BIKE! I DON'T CARE IF MY NUMBER IS ON IT! SOMEONE STOLE MY MOTHER FUCKING BIKE, MOTHER FUCKER! oh, wait. that's right, my bike has a broken frame. this is the bike i'm riding. uh, sorry about the whole 'mother fucker' thing. right, get the fuck out of here."

Say "Hi," or point me out to others around you and yell, "Stay away from that guy!" I'm good with either reaction.

A Truly Incredible Experience (and I haven't even raced yet)

2010-09-09T14:55:00.004-05:00

In the space of about 16 hours I went from having a bike to race at IMWI to finding out that that bike has a broken frame and is unrideable to calling everyone I was even remotely acquainted with to find a bike to use to connecting with a couple of people ("TFY") who I've never met, but were willing to lend me a super sweet set of wheels (and a frame and components, duh) to being set up and ready to go. Expectations for the race are now out the window, not because I necessarily think the bike leg will go bad, but because the whole race might go better than I ever thought. I am overwhelmed by how unselfishly helpful everyone has been. I can't thank all of you enough.

OK - enough about that. I am totally racing an Ironman on Sunday!

Check Out My Crack!

2010-09-08T17:08:00.004-05:00

Three days from IMWI and I am without a bike. Here's why:

Look closely to left of that hole and you can see a crack that has made my bike unrideable. Anyone have an extra Cannondale Slice 58 cm sitting around for the weekend?

Blown Taper

2010-09-02T20:08:00.009-05:00

Blew my taper. (Not really, but it felt like it.)

It's that time of year again - Minnesota State Fair time. Normally we go on a morning and it's usually brutally hot, but this year was different. First of all, a lot of schools in the metro area started school this week which is unusually early (by law schools aren't supposed to start until after Labor Day, but districts that need more test prep time can petition to start early. Apparently our district doesn't fall into that category.) Secondly, the weather was cool, but sketchy. And "C," we went later in the afternoon. All of these things meant that crowds were light so we didn't see quite as many morbidly obese people eating gigantic quantities of fried food and sweating profusely. The number of future teenage unwed mothers/strippers/hookers was reduced as well. Unfortunately, it also meant that by the time we got to them all the animal barns were closed, so we weren't able to check out the giant swine this year (remember last year?)

The lighter crowds meant easier access to fair food. I was hungry. I ate SO much bad stuff.

The greatest french fries in the world!

Deep fried cheese curds.

Pronto Pup. This ain't no "corn dog." So much better!

Sweet Martha's chocolate chip cookies. Unbelievably good and I am such a sucker for chocolate chip cookies.

I needed some "low fat" protein. This is the biggest turkey leg I have ever seen. It was delicious.

Fewer people meant the real train wrecks really stood out. This guy was my favorite.

Sweet terry cloth polo shirt with the popped color.

Do you workout? Maybe do a lot of upper body and no leg work? And do you do all this "working out" in a sunless cave? Yeah, thought so.

And then there were these two meat-heads.

"Dude, my lats are so big I can't put my arms down by my side." "I know, right? That's why I have to wear this shirt without sleeves."

Hate to break it to you boys, you're not strong you're just fat.

Our day ended with a driving downpour. Check off another State Fair experience and another summer over.

"Yes, Virginia there is an Ironman."

2010-08-29T09:40:00.009-05:00

Last week I ended an email to a friend doing Ironman Wisconsin with,

"Waiting for the day is like waiting for Christmas, but Santa is really scary and might actually be trying to kill you before he gives you your presents."

She liked it so much I Tweeted it, which was also met with approval by my "friends" on Facebook and the Twitter.

But it totally feels like that.

For the last three months (and the three months before that) I have been "good." I've been listening to my coach (except when I don't and then I fib and then I feel guilty and re-do the workout later.) She's kind of like Santa's elf, except a lot less forgiving and way taller. And Jewish, so she is really nothing like Santa's elf. (I am assuming, probably erroneously, that Santa's elves are all Christian as he is a symbol of a loosely Christian holiday.) She's more like a cyber stalker, but I gladly provide all the information for her to terrorize me.

It sounds like I don't like my coach, but that couldn't be further from the truth. I hired her (after implying she was fat when she was really recovering from a minor head injury) because if I was going to complete an Ironman, I wasn't going to half-ass it. I want to finish. I want to finish healthy. And I want to be competitive. But most of all I wanted a schedule I could share with my wife so I would remain welcome in my own house. (75% success is close enough, right?) She's been great and I get the feeling I might end up doing better than I expect (if I just follow the plan.)

Anyway. Back to the Christmas analogy. So I have a tall, brutally honest, Jewish, Christmas elf watching over me to make sure I'm not "naughty." I have overstated my "goodness" and fibbed about my "naughtiness," felt guilty and made amends. And now the big day is right around the corner. I'm not making up for any lost opportunities (adding unscheduled workouts) which is my attempt to be "good" before "Christmas morning." At this point the vast majority of the "presents" have been purchased (or earned in training.) Now I am spending my extra time looking for where those "presents" are hidden so I can shake them and try to figure out what's in them. The thing is, those "presents" will only reveal themselves on race day and they will only reveal themselves when they want to or need to and I may not like all of them. (Like opening underwear or socks for Christmas, but then opening a Lite Brite. And then opening a new toothbrush, but then getting a Wii.)

So really, I am spending my time imagining my "presents," just like I did as a kid. And when I think about them I get the same feelings - my heart beats faster, I get an adrenalin shot, my hands tingle and my mind races - and I just can't wait. But then I realize that this "Christmas Day" "Santa" is going to make me beat the shit out of myself before I get anything. However, "Santa" has promised that if I am patient and appreciate all my "presents" - good and bad - along the way, that at the end of the day I will get the one present that I have been asking for the past six-plus months. (And my wife will get the present she has been asking for just as long - for my training to be done!)

I will get that new bicycle! (Honey, don't worry, I am not going to get a new bike. My bikes are perfectly fine.)

Of course the "new bicycle" to which I am referring is a cot and an IV in the med tent after I finish a fricking IRONMAN!

Come on "Christmas" get here soon!

My Son's First Tri and the Amazing Douchebags

2010-08-23T09:36:00.011-05:00

F completed his first triathlon this past weekend. Some of his friends were doing it and he decided a week before to sign up. As the day grew closer he became more and more apathetic (apathetic isn't really the right word - he just wasn't all "into it" but he still was wanted to do it.) Being the uptight, type-A athlete that I am, I kept ticking off in my mind what he needed to bring with him. He was so laid back about the whole thing, that I had to remind myself to chill and that it was his race and not mine. I made sure he had the basics - keep it simple. (ie: no aero helmet necessary.)

As we drove to the race we discussed what he would do if he had any problems. Water in your mouth or goggles? Stop, clear them and keep going. Steep hill on your bike? Shift to an easier gear and keep going. Getting tired on the run? Walk a little and keep going.

Suddenly he was into it. He started talking about half ironmans and a racing bike. I just told him to concentrate on the race right in front of him and we can discuss the other stuff later (much later.) He was so fun and funny. Our race strategy was to not go out too fast and to persevere over any difficulties.

We got him registered including his one-day USAT membership (which I thought was funny) and we found his age group muster point.

We found his friends and waited around.

Now, this race was an untimed, charity event for kids with cancer. F was racing for Joey who is 6 and has leukemia. It was meant to be fun (competitive yes, because it is a race) but just a fun family event - low key. The dad's of a couple of F's friends are triathletes and I was joking that I had been thinking about wheeling my tri bike around and wearing my race kit complete with aero helmet (I don't have an aero helmet) all over the event just to show how cool I am. We had a great laugh - I would have looked like such a douchebag.

A and I both brought cameras but we were both stupid. Mine didn't have any power and A left her memory card in the computer so we both got like three good pictures and the rest are phone pics. I was at the swim out, but didn't get any pics.

At T1. He's in the blue shirt right by the yellow sign with #11.

Coming to the bike dismount at T2.

Heading out of T2. So happy! (F and me.)

Little bit of trail run. Still smiling.

After this picture I made a bee line to the finish. Apparently he took a shortcut (not really, I just didn't realize how quick the finish came after that last picture) and A and I both missed his finish. We waited and waited and then the mom of one of his friends told us he had already finished and was waiting for us at the prize tent. Too bad we missed him, but when we found him he was still smiling although obviously tired. He rode to brunch with me and all he could talk about was doing his next tri and how he thought he should do a HIM before he does an Ironman and are there any more tris this summer and he should probably start training a little more seriously and how did Sprite get its name and can he have french toast for breakfast and hot chocolate with whipped cream and how we are the only two people in the family who have done a triathlon and we should train together. I'm glad he's excited and had such a fun time.

Oh, turns out I'm prophetic. As we are standing around in the crowd near the awards stage what rolls up but a couple. A couple of the most amazing douchebags. These two stood out like a couple of sore thumbs (that is the lamest cliche ever, but I agonized over something more creative and I just couldn't make it work. Sorry.)

She's riding a Seven with HED wheels. Yes, fancy pants you are obviously loaded as evidenced by your $7,000 bike. I can't tell what he's riding, but obviously he's a BIG deal because he's wearing an IMWI jersey. Whatever. It's all a little pretentious isn't it and it's kind of like wearing a t-shirt of the band whose concert you're attending - you don't want to be that guy.

My Lack of Blogging

2010-08-18T08:31:00.003-05:00

My lack of blogging or commenting on others blogs should be an indication of my current state of exhaustion. I am too tired to put any thoughts together over 140 characters. I am in my last week of hard (and I mean really fucking hard) training before Ironman Wisconsin (IronMoo or IMOO.) After this week it's taper time and I'll have more energy and time to contemplate my fate at IMOO, which means overindulgent, self-centered diatribes regarding my lack of self confidence and way too many words and not nearly enough pictures. I bet you all can't wait.

Finnism

2010-08-05T20:23:00.003-05:00

After getting eaten by mosquitoes and then hit in "the parts" by the teeter-totter and finally, flying on the swing, F announced:

"HEY MOM! I'M NOT PUNCTURING MYSELF!"

(Thank god, I don't think I brought enough patch kits to share.)

Saddle Sores and Sun Screens

2010-07-13T10:36:00.006-05:00

Been tweeting back and forth with Frayed Laces about saddle sores. They seem to be the cycling injury no one wants to admit to or discuss, but they fucking hurt. I have been treating one for a couple of months and although it's getting a little better, it's still causing issues. So how do you treat a saddle sore? And what even causes them? Well, before I launch into my moderately underinformed analysis let me say that if you use the googles to search the subject there are many articles on the interwebs.

(Don't worry. I haven't included any pictures. You are safe to continue reading. Or not, if you NEED pictures.)

What I have learned from the articles I have skimmed is that a "crotch" (also referred to as a "groin," but I like the sound of "crotch" better) is a bacteria ridden, horrible, nasty, damp and musty place prone to excessive friction and pressure which can lead to pain and actual owies. (Sorry, slipped into kid mode.) Yeah, so? We are all built more or less the same so why do some people get saddle sores and others don't? Although I'd like to go into a long philosophical discussion of hygiene, training intensity and truth telling, I'll just list some stuff I found.

Saddle position can have an affect. Softness or firmness of your saddle can also have an effect and combined with either too thick or too thin chamois you have a multitude of factors to consider. Many times a firmer saddle is actually better than a softer saddle or thinner chamois is better than thicker. Leg length discrepancies can cause uneven peddling motion leading to a sore on one side. Sometimes a leg length discrepancy is bad enough to need to be fixed with a shim under your shoe on that side - proceed with caution on that one. Sometimes a saddle sore simply starts from an ingrown hair. (Again, check the cybernets for other causes and fancy names.)

How do you treat a saddle sore? There are about as many treatments as causes. Primary treatment - keep your "crotch" clean and dry. Duh? I have certainly ramped up my crotchal hygiene but I still have issues. (That was probably the understatement of the century.) So I switched my chamois cream/lube. I've been using Bag Balm. It was originally used for sore cow udders, but it works great as a chamois lube. I basically spread it on with a spatula because I like to be good and slippery (not really, but I use a lot.) The nice thing about it is it has an antiseptic element that helps deter infection. It's also relatively cheep and easy to find making it OK to use in massive quantities. I have also read - depending on the cause of your saddle sore - in this case an ingrown hair - that acne cream with benzoyl peroxide can help. Desitin diaper cream is FL's chamois lube of choice at the moment. I would seem to make sense to me as it did wonders for my kids' diaper rash and it's baby friendly so it's mild. I have read pros and cons about using rubbing alcohol and some other treatments. Whatever you do - DO NOT pop, squeeze, cut, pick, lick, rub or jab with pointy objects at a saddle sore. You are only asking for trouble and you DO NOT want trouble down there. You are not a surgeon or a butcher so don't play one between your legs. (And if you are a surgeon or a butcher - still don't mess around down there.)

Again, I can't repeat this disclaimer enough, read the articles yourself and if things are really bad in your "nether regions" see a doctor, stop whoring around (men and women) and DO NOT reference me as any sort authority on the subject. I really only decided to write this so I would have a reason to type "crotch" and other euphemisms multiple times.

Now, what's been working for me is the Bag Balm as a lube during rides - again, MASSIVE quantities. Then I shower and service the undercarriage with a nice mild soap. Dry the "area" thoroughly with my wife's towel - I don't want that nasty rot all over MY body. Then apply a little Neosporin + Pain Relief (or a generic equivalent - I've used both.) It's not like a shot of Novocaine to the "crotch" or anything, but it does treat the pain effectively. Some people are helped with a little careful "landscaping" in the area thereby eliminating the "steel wool effect."

As I am sure you're all interested in the state of my "taint" - it gets better when I'm not riding and then gets irritated on longer rides. It's not as bad as it used to be when I'm riding. I actually went with a softer, tri-specific saddle which allowed me to bring the nose up a bit so the saddle is more flat and that has helped. It's different for everyone.

To follow up on my sunscreen post from a few days ago. I had to pick up a new helmet with larger vents to keep my melon cooler. First long ride (4.5 hours) on a sunny day and I neglect to put sunscreen on my forehead. Looking in the mirror I can see three nice red racing stripes. Larger vents let in more sun. Sun burns - especially me. I am dumb.

My tiger stripes were light (my wife didn't ridicule me until I pointed them out to her) and faded quickly, although I have been wearing a hat when I am out so I don't look like a total moron. Good thing that Scape sunscreen works so well and doesn't run into my eyes. Looks like I'll be using a lot of it.

My Wife the Ass Kicker

2010-07-12T12:30:00.010-05:00

My wife's time in Haiti has had a profound effect on her. She's become an ass-kicking social activist type. In a good way.

A did not just simply fly to Haiti, do some work and then come home and forget about all the people down there. She has continued to be in touch and involved from all the way up here.

When A arrived in Haiti she met a psychiatrist named Sarah, who was leaving the next day. Sarah had been looking after two young girls who were completely orphaned by the earthquake. They were not related and neither had any family left living. Being teenagers they were not elegible for an orphanage, so they were on their own. Sarah asked A to continue to check on these girls and make sure they were doing OK. They are only 17 and 15 (or 13 - the one girl kept changing her story.)

(Post dental work, thus the ice pack.)

A took them under her wing and when they went out into the tent city she brought them with to observe and help her with evaluations and therapy. The older girl had a wonderful bedside manner and was interested in what A was doing. Not to say the younger girl was not, she is still just a little girl. Since they were in the "neighborhood" they insisted on taking A to their tent.

(I love this picture because it shows their tent is neat as a pin, but that these are two young girls with the stuffed animals prominently displayed.)

A was so kind to these two that she gave one of them the shirt off her back literally. The shirt she was wearing was a little revealing and she was self conscious about it. A's simple black shirt allowed her to dress more demurely and be more confident.

(The shirt on the girl to the right was A's shirt.)

So when did A become a social activist ass-kicker? When she read some incredibly ignorant comments after a story she read on CNN.com. I'm not going to bother linking to it - the story is good, but the ignorant rantings of red-necks and holier-than-thou conservatives isn't worth wasting your time. Besides A already took a bunch of them to task for being a bunch of mean-spirited morons. She just couldn't help herself. And I love her for it!

She has also continued to follow-up on these two girls - sending countless emails to people to make sure these two are continuing to be looked after and helping to find them volunteer, school and work opportunities.

(Side note: Sarah. Turns out she is Tom Brokaw's daughter. A didn't find this out until after she left - not that it makes any difference. I like Tom Brokaw even more now that I know he raised such a caring daughter uninterested in trading on his fame.)

One other story A told me was about a baby with hydrocephalus (water on the brain.) This baby was in all other ways a happy, healthy child, but because of his untreated condition he was starting to exhibit developmental delays - mostly due to his inability to lift his head. The doctors were able to get a CAT scan and consulted with the (singular) neurosurgeon who said he would be able to do the required procedure, but it would cost $2,000. When A left they were still trying to secure funding. She and our neighbor (who A went with) are trying to find out if they were able to get the money and get the baby taken care of.

This little boy's life could be healthy and normal for TWO-GRAND! It's just amazing how so little money (comparatively) could make such a huge difference. You get a little bit of an idea why my wife continues to be so passionate and involved.

If I find out any news I will be sure provide updates.

A Successful Scape

2010-07-08T15:40:00.010-05:00

I woke up early to get my 5 hour ride done so I wouldn't have any excuses. 6 AM and I was on the road. The day was nearly perfect. Cool, clear skies, little to no wind. The downside - it was hu-mid. The dewpoint was a single degree cooler than the air temp. (As we should all know by now, it's not the humidity, but the dewpoint that really determines how sticky it is.) I slathered on some Scape SPF 30+ sunscreen. This would be a tough test of its "sweatproof-ness," "non-eye-stinging-ness" and "screening-ness." Application was uneventful. It is nicely scent-free (or so lightly scented that I don't remember it.) I didn't need a large amount, which was nice. A modest amount covered nicely. First experience was a good experience.

For the most part, my ride was good. I did get stung by a bee as I was descending a long hill at 40 MPH. I can only imagine how insane I looked as I swatted at my inner thigh while trying to maintain control and screaming like my daughter when she was 4. (I am kidding about the screaming part -- I said "fuck" a few times, but everyone will choose to believe my previous statement.) Oh, and I am not allergic to bee stings, but we found that out last summer.

The whole ride was sunny. A little headwind came up in the last couple of hours, but nothing major. It was a beautiful ride in the farm fields of Minnesota. My biggest complaint was that I kept having to clean my glasses because I was spraying sweat all over the inside of them. (I have long, luxurious lashes and combined with my prodigious sweat production they do a nice job of coating the inside of my sunglasses.)

Now, riding for 5 hours is apparently a very dirty job, as illustrated by my legs (or "leg".)

I got a FB comment regarding this picture:

Mission accomplished! Scape sunscreen stayed with me for the duration of my ride and its protection remained undeterred by excessive sweat and road grime and I experienced no eye stinging. So is Scape "the shit"? Well, it's not completely issue-free. When I got home and looked in the mirror my face looked a little "ghosty." So did my arms and legs. There was a also a little "ghosty" residue on the kitchen table where I rested my arms after application. Deal breakers? Not at all. Barriers to a full-fledged endorsement? Not in the least.

Bottom line is I really like this product. I like the lack of scent. I actually kind of like the "ghosty" effect - I tell myself it's keeping me cool (white reflects light, right?) - and it's reassuring to see that my protection hasn't washed off even in my gallons of sweat. And the promise it won't run into your eyes? Successfully proven.

This is my go-to sunscreen for the rest of my workouts this summer. Right now it's not available in Minnesota, but you can order it at any number of on-line retailers. Thanks for the samples Scape Labs. You have a believer.

Planning to Scape

2010-07-07T14:18:00.007-05:00

People have been raving about a new sunscreen on blogs, FB and Twitter. I checked it out, but am always skeptical about products that suddenly appear on the scene with great excitement. Then I read a tweet from Linsey Corbin -

As we all know from a previous post I have a problem with tan lines. And apparently my tan lines are also ugly.

Then MM gets a new job with this company, Scape Labs, so I contact them to see if they can point me to a retail outlet in my neck of the woods, but alas they don't have distribution here yet. Sadly, I respond that I will just have to order on-line, but they offer to send me samples, which just arrived.

And just in time because I have a 5 hour ride tomorrow and it's supposed to be sunny. I will be giving it a try and let you know how it works. Good bye ugly tan lines and thanks Scape Labs.

Losing Sight of The Shore

2010-06-23T10:33:00.012-05:00

Being a single parent is HARD. Single parents or stay at home moms, I now have deeper respect for you than I already had. I know my situation is easy (and very short term) by comparison, but juggling activities, entertaining the kids and finding time for yourself is not easy. It certainly takes a unique person to keep it all together and raise great kids and be happy. I do not classify myself as one of those unique people. I am doing alright now, but I know I would have a hard time if I had to maintain this.

But enough about me - this post is an update on my wife and her time in Haiti.

---------------------------------------------

"You'll never reach new oceans if you're afraid to lose sight of the shore."

This is the quote my coach has at the bottom of her emails. It seems appropriate for this post about my wife.

Last night, as I was sitting and watching F at Kung Fu, my phone rang and my wife's number popped up. Her phone service has been spotty, so I was happy to see it was her. I stepped out in the lobby to take her call (totally abandoning F.) She was manic. In a wonderful way.

She told me she had just had the most amazing day and needed to share it with someone before she forgot all the details. I felt proud that she called me first. (I don't know who I expected her to call, apparently it wasn't me.) I grabbed a pen to take notes so I wouldn't forget the details (although I probably have or gotten them wrong.)

Let me back up a couple of days to our last phone conversation on Sunday. She was all settled in and had been sweating like a whore in church (thank you Grandma Olson) the entire time. She spent Saturday setting up a bunch of tents and working on reorganizing the pharmacy at the clinic. Sunday was their day off and after going to help check on a preemie born Saturday night, they basically walked the entire tent city. The kids they encountered were all super sweet and happy and everywhere they went they heard, "Hey you," "Hey you," the only English words the kids knew.

They hired a driver to take them into Port-au-Prince. It was such a strange dichotomy of utter devastation - collapsed buildings with bodies still trapped inside - and vibrant activity - the market filled with people selling fruit and other daily needs. It was interesting and the work was fine, but she was feeling a little under utilized.

Last night, she was so excited she couldn't get the words out fast enough. Tuesday morning they were in their clinic figuring out what everyone was going to do for the day and a couple of nurses said they were going to the general/public hospital in town. A (my wife) asked if she could come with and the nurses said "Sure, we leave in 5 minutes." And they meant it.

From what it sounds like capitalism and free enterprise isn't a victim of a disaster. People take the opportunity to provide services that normally would be taken for granted. So they have drivers for hire that take people around the city. There are a couple of guys that the medical folks use - "The Two Pauls." Big Paul and Little Paul. Apparently these two guys came down to help out after the earthquake. Their motto: "No morals, just get it done." They help cut through any red tape to get people around or get supplies or whatever needs to be done. Their mode of transportation is a pickup truck. You hop in back and they drive.

I feel I must tell you a little more about my wife. She is not known for her spontaneity. She's not really a "fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants" kind of person. That's not to say she's uptight or rigid - she's a planner. She likes to have an idea of what to expect - she doesn't like surprises. (I made the mistake - a few times - of trying to surprise her and she was bugged more than anything.) That being said, the fact that she went on this trip at all seemed like a big step to me, but then to hear that she volunteered to go with a couple of people she just recently met to a completely unfamiliar location and situation told me she is certainly thriving down there.

So "Big Paul" takes A and her nurse friends to the hospital. When they get there they check in with a woman - A later finds out she's a doctor - who is organizing things. A tells her, "I'm not sure how I can help - I'm an Occupational Therapist so ..." The woman interrupts her, "AWESOME! A therapist!"

A spent the majority of the day in the ICU. She said it was just surreal. The facilities were third-world and damaged during the disaster. The patient boards - telling what the patients were being treated for - had some codes she wasn't familiar with. Most had "TB" on them. She knew that meant they had tuberculosis and many had "H+" as well. This, she learned, meant HIV positive. There were a couple of convicts from the prison who were shackled to their beds and were admitted for some "stupid thing". There was a patient with advanced tetanus - locked jaw and stiffening joints. There was a man who had a stroke and was refusing to eat. And many other people just wasting away. A says just describing it, it sounds like it should be totally disheartening, but she was just so energized.

As she went from bed to bed it became apparent that these patients had been in bed for WEEKS or MONTHS. They had NOT GOTTEN OUT OF BED for WEEKS or MONTHS. No wonder they were wasting away.

She approached one woman and was told, "she doesn't walk." A asked, "Did she have a stroke, is she paralyzed? What do you mean she doesn't walk?" The reply, "She's too weak." She had been in bed so long. A got her up and had her walking around in no time - this is what she does.

One of the prisoners was being watched by a sympathetic guard who allowed him to be unshackled from the bed for awhile. A approached him and found that he hadn't been out of bed since he arrived - months ago. She asked the guard if she could get him up and walking and the guard let her go to work. When A got the prisoner standing his legs could barely support him and were going into spasms from having not been used for so long. A kept working with him and by the end of their time together he was walking around the ward. Later that day he stole a walker and escaped. (I'm totally kidding. I don't think they have walkers and the guy wasn't walking that well.)

The son of the man with tetanus was sitting with him and imploring him to move. Apparently he had been having horrible back pain and he also hadn't been out of bed. A came over and spent some time teaching the man some simple stretches to relieve his back pain and spent time ranging his joints before they froze permanently. She had him up and walking before she left as well.

She went on to tell me about some people-watching she did and some other medical folks she met. She was sitting outside taking a breather and a truck with a patient came through the security gate and one of the doctors assisting with the transfer was our neighbor across the street. She said they looked at each other and both were so surprised to see the other that they kind of couldn't believe it.

About this time, F came out of Kung Fu all pissed off that I had "abandoned" him. He gave me this "look" with his arms outstretched and mouthed his disapproval. When I explained it was his mother on the phone from Haiti he looked a little sheepish. Damn demanding kid.

I was SO excited to hear how excited she was. She saw what a difference she made in these people's lives. She walked into an unknown and chaotic situation and took charge. She had lost sight of her safe, tidy little shore and was sailing solo in this wild new ocean. She was proud of herself and I am even more proud of her. She is learning so much about herself and I love her more for it.

Opposites Attract (or My Wife the Saint)

2010-06-17T13:19:00.014-05:00

Actually it should probably be more like "opposites attract and then get stuck together and then stay together even though they are opposites."

I am referring - very much tongue in cheek - to me and my wife. Just a few examples of how we are opposite:

wife - work, me - not working.
wife - spends money on others, me - spends money on me.
wife - puts clothes away after wearing them, me - puts clothes on floor after wearing them.
wife - knows what clothes can be dried in the dryer, me - no clue.
wife - drinks wine, me - can't handle my liquor.
wife - finds sophomoric humor tiresome, me - finds sophomoric humor every chance I get (and freely teaches it to our children which my wife then has to "unteach" so they don't offend the grandparents, neighbors or teachers.)
wife - petite, me - big.
wife - female, me - less female.

Another example of our "oppositeness" is what we perceive as "great opportunities" especially as they pertain to islands.

As you know, I recently spent time on the Pacific paradise of the Big Island of Hawaii. It was to pursue an "opportunity" I just couldn't pass up. That opportunity was, of course, to race a half Ironman distance triathlon on the Big Island and meet a bunch of people who I only knew through Facebook, Twitter and blogs. As you also know, I had a great time. Stayed in an awesome condo overlooking the ocean, ate awesome food and just really enjoyed myself and my new friends.

My wife was talking with our across-the-street neighbor a couple of months ago and she came home with an "opportunity" she felt she just couldn't pass up. It too was on an island, in the Caribbean. She'd be gone for a week without me or the kids (not unlike I was in Hawaii.) She would be meeting new "friends" as well, but she had no idea who they were. Not so "opposite-y," right?

Here is where things get "opposite-y." She would be living in a tent (I don't think we have ever stayed in a one star hotel,) eating one meal a day of rice and beans (not one of our staple meals) and her new "friends" would be sick and injured and living in a disaster area. My "opportunity" was about me and my personal interest. Her "opportunity" was to make a difference.

Tomorrow at 7:25 AM she flies off to Miami on her way to Port au Prince, Haiti. She will be living in the Jenkins - Penn tent city. Taking a shower. Eating beans and rice and anything else she brought with her. Her days will be long, hot, humid days helping the poor people still trying to recover from the January 12th earthquake. She's not really sure what she will be doing day-to-day. She may be birthing babies, suturing, assisting docs, helping organize, helping amputees or trauma victims with daily tasks by using adaptive equipment (she's an Occupational Therapist, so this is her field of expertise.)

To prepare for her trip she got her shots and has been taking her anti-malarial medicine.

She's been packing.

And packing.

She got a water filter bottle.

and just in case.

Her bedtime reading subject matter has changed somewhat from Jane Austen to this:

The cover just makes me queasy. Several times she would start laughing at something she was reading. I'd ask her what was so funny and she'd reply, "Oh, if I showed you, you'd get all squirmy and weird." Thank you for extending me that courtesy anyway.

I am excited and nervous for her and know she is excited and nervous about going - as evidenced by her inability to sleep and need to repack at 2 in the morning. I know she is going to do just fine and will gain a ton from the experience. I am just hoping that by being married to her I will get to ride her coattails into heaven.

2010 Honu 70.3 - Race Pictures

2010-06-13T07:50:00.009-05:00

Here are some pictures on the course. Thanks MM for showing me how to steal these from the overpriced course photographers.

Lots of good ones from the swim. This is when I was still feeling good. I do hate looking at pictures of myself. Does my head look too small for my body? Maybe it's the swim cap, but I look like kind of a pinhead. And I have no idea what I'm smuggling in my trunks. (Sorry mom.) Let's explain it as the chamois in my bike shorts.

Couple of good shots on the bike course. The first one shows that it's so hot and sunny it over exposed the shot. Also, notice how I am riding at a slight angle. The crosswinds were killer. Other than that I look pretty good in both shots - no snot rockets or adjusting my junk or anything.

These two running shots are excellent because it makes it look like I am actually picking up my feet. The second is evidence that I actually finished (although not in a particularly stunning time.)

This concludes my 2010 Honu 70.3 adventure. Hope you enjoyed some of it.

2010 Honu 70.3 - Fun Stuff (part 4 of 4)

2010-06-08T16:30:00.047-05:00

This post is the bookends to the race reports. And it has pictures so D will actually scroll through it.

I got into Kona on Wednesday afternoon. Thankfully the flights were uneventful, because if they weren't I would have to spend a lot of words bitching about the airlines and what a total f***-show they all are. That fact remains, but it wasn't wagged in my face this time.

After getting the rental car, loading up my bike and finding my accommodations - which were stellar in every way, thank you very much Warren and Jonathon for helping me out, the place is unbelievable and the location is amazing, I'll be back - I sent out emails and text messages to all the peeps who were in town and made the foolish mistake to agree to meet me in person.

The incredibly fabulous Bree Wee was the first to respond. She invited me to swim with her and the Kona Aquatics team that night. After pestering her a few more times to get directions to the pool and to find some cheap, tasty place to eat - Taco Del Mar = SO GOOD I went twice - I drove around Kona and soaked in the Aloha spirit. I drove up and down Alii Drive about five times and just couldn't believe THE Ironman finishes on this little street, but it was so cool - it just gave me goosebumps.

I made it to the Kona pool and introduced myself to Bree - who is as nice in person as online - and met her little boy Kainoa who promptly whacked me with a towel by way of saying, "hello." Kids can see things in a person adults miss - he read me like a picture book and reacted accordingly. Well played, Kainoa. Well played.

I hopped in the pool and started warming up. I just paddled around in the middle lanes, figuring there is no way I would be able to keep up with the speedy lanes. Coach called everyone to the wall and announced the first set and the intervals. Easy 8 x 100 on 1:30 for lane 1 - the speedy lane. Shit, I do that no problem so I duck under a couple of lanes and there I am in the middle of the pack in the fast lane. My stroke felt like hell - no feel for the water, ass dragging, stroke all over the place - but I stuck with it and ended up clicking off sub-1:15s without breathing heavy, keeping pace with the rest of the lane, no problem. The rest of the workout was much the same and although everything still felt weird, I kept up without effort and was encouraged - my swim could really kick ass, I just need to get in the ocean to make sure.

Afterward, I changed and then grabbed some sushi for dinner and went to bed exhausted but happy to be in Hawaii. Then I woke up at 3 AM because I have been waking up at 3 AM for the past two weeks - why change now?

Thursday the Hawaii peeps stared arriving. MM caught an early flight with a friend of hers and I offered to them up at the airport. They got in a 6:30 AM, but I was going to be awake more than likely so why not pick them up. We crammed three bikes and assorted bags in the car and made MM's friend, Cody, sit in the back seat with his feet on his bag and his knees up under his chin and then headed north to where they were staying.
The highway north - the Queen K/Queen Kaahumanu Highway - is long and for much of the way cuts through desolate lava fields. We would be racing on this highway for much of the bike course. It would not be an easy ride.

After dropping MM and Cody at their respective accommodations - actually I dropped Cody at Foodland because he didn't know what condo he was staying in or the gate code to get into the complex. It was kind of funny to leave him there on the sidewalk with his bike and bags - I got a hold of Kerrie Wlad and family. We had passed them on the highway going in the opposite direction and they were now swimming at the pier in Kona. I zipped back to my place to get swimming stuff, but by the time I got to the pier they were gone (probably out in the ocean swimming) so I changed in the car and hit Lava Java - they said they were getting brunch there after - and settled in for some stalking.

I also ate breakfast and drank coffee and messed around on my computer while I waited, so it wasn't completely weird sitting and staring at strangers - only partially weird sitting and staring at strangers. When they finally showed up they walked by me a few times without recognizing me (one of the advantages of having a hedgehog on a rooster for a profile picture is that no one recognizes you in real life) so I bought their drinks, introduced myself and promptly inserted myself into their family vacation. We hung out while they ate and chit-chatted. They are an incredibly cool family and I'm not just saying that because they might read this, they were very funny and the kids are super cute and very nice. GG isn't nearly as odd as he appears to be on Kerrie's blog, but he's close ; ) (oh and later on he is FAST and Kona bound in October.)

We parted ways and I went back to my place to grab a nap and put my bike back together. It went together no prob and I took it to Kona Bike Works to go for a spin down the Queen K and then have the guys there tweak any issues. It was 99% perfect but I took it in to have them look at my rear derailleur and brake. I walked up to the service department and who was sitting there having her bike worked on but Bree Wee. We chatted for about a half-hour or so while they were working on her bike and then they gave mine a quick once over - they were awesome.

The rest of Thursday I was on my own. I would be heading up north Friday morning to meet MM and the gang she was hanging with for an early ocean swim, race registration and run gear drop off. At the expo we got a picture with the blogger friends we ran into.

It was kind of weird because MM and FL kept having strangers walk up to them and say, "hi" - these strangers were all commented on their blogs and recognized them. No one recognized me because A) I have A follower and B) my profile picture is of a bespectacled, pipe smoking, sweater wearing cool guy. (Actually, it's kind of strange that no one recognized me because that is exactly what I was wearing at the expo. And a pair of bike shorts.)

Me + bike shorts = approachable (or not)

We went back to their condo and went for a quick bike, run and then a nap. After that we checked in our bikes and then made an awesome dinner. Grilled salmon and chicken with rice and green beans. One of the guys, Erik, and I manned the grill. We were the dream team and everything came out delicious and no one got sick - always my fear.

I headed home and was in bed by 10 PM.

Saturday we raced.

(Thanks Debra Perretta for the great pictures.)

Saturday evening we went to a post race party. It was fun, but everyone turned into a pumpkin at about 10 PM. It was funny to see. At almost the same time everyone when from wide eyed and energetic to eyes half-mast. Before the party Marcy and Bo were scrambling around looking for their car keys. I left early to get gas. (This all seems like tangential details, but it all comes together.) Then I met everyone at the party. I got back to my place about 11 PM and slept OK considering I had a terrible sun burn.

(My children, who I badger about using sunscreen, are never going to let me live this down.)

I woke up about 6:30 Sunday morning and dug in the pockets of the shorts I had on the night before looking for some lip balm to soothe my sunburned lips. I pulled out the lip balm and my car key. But wait, I was looking at my car key on the desk. I have two car keys. That look identical. I AM A TOTAL DIPSHIT! I HAVE MARCY AND BO'S CAR KEYS! And have had them all night.

I texted Marcy (luckily she had texted me earlier) and asked if they were driving a Ford Focus. Yes, indeed they were and I had their keys. I threw on clothes and headed north. I was going to just throw the keys over the railing of the lanai (porch) so no one would be able to punch my face for being a total dipshit. I was completely embarrassed. Leave it to me to do something completely alienating. Luckily, everyone had a very good sense of humor about the whole thing and Avis didn't have to come out and unlock the car ($55) and cut a new key ($200).

When I got inside I was greeted by the following scenes.

Triathletes eat a lot of food at a race and make a huge mess.

Bags of wet stinky clothes and bikes in various stages of being disassembled.

Why yes, I would love to have some fresh papaya from the tree outside. Wait what's this garnish? (That, my friends, is a good sized pot bud. Found in the middle of the parking lot. The Big Island is a very friendly island.)

Here is a picture of the gang that was nice enough to put up with my mainlander ignorance for several days. I very much appreciate you guys welcoming me in. You're all wonderful people.

Here is me with the gang looking kind of like a giant. Bo is happily holding up his keys and taunting me for basically being a complete moron.

I went back to my place to pack up while they all packed up as well. Then I met MM and FL for a loosen up swim at the pier.

Here we are playing around about a quarter mile off shore on the Ironman course. I could swim in the ocean all day. Every day.

Then we went back to Lava Java for brunch. This omelet has grilled pineapple chunks and roasted pork in it. It was absolute heaven on a plate.

From there we wandered around Kona for a while. I bought gifts for the family back home. We drove the Ironman run course and then they went to the airport and I went back to my place to pack up and check out.

The rest is boring because I had to hang around until 11 PM for my flight out of Kona. Then I got home.

My kids were so impressed/horrified by my sunburn that they asked me to show their class. (I was at school anyway helping the teachers with some end of year moving, so it's not like it was a special trip.)

"This, children, is why it's important to use sunscreen. And most importantly - to reapply."

See. HORRIFIED!

Honu 70.3 - Let the race end, God, please let it end (unabridged) (part 3 of 4)

2010-06-07T23:24:00.005-05:00

Ugh, finally on the flight home.

So, I successfully made it through the swim and bike and after almost taking out another racer and then embarrassing myself getting off my bike I am off to the run. I find the volunteer who is pointing out my bike slot and trot over to her. I throw my hat on and slip my right shoe on and then my left shoe. I was worried that when I pulled my shoe on my calf would cramp. It did but as soon as I trotted away it felt OK.

I made the turn onto the run course and knew I was going to have a tough run - at least to start with. I was sloshy and bloated and my legs would not turn over. I told myself it was the first mile, stick with it, stick with the nutrition plan and see if it comes back. Needless to say it didn’t come back. My running legs did not make it to the race.

I honestly do not think I overdid the bike. My legs didn’t feel sore or tired they just weren’t turning over. I resigned myself to the fact that the run would be a suffer-fest and I would do what I could/needed to do to finish.

The course is NOT easy. It’s on and off fairways and cart paths on a golf course. So there are just endless rolling hills, short but steep, up and down. There is little shade – certainly not enough to provide any relief. One “advantage” of the course is that there are a lot of out-and-backs so I could be a little distracted looking for people I knew.

I walked during the second mile. The uphills were just killing me. Not causing discomfort really, just taking way more energy than I figured I could sustain. I realized that I was totally cooking. During one of the Ironman videos I have watched like a hundred times, Torbjorn Sindballe talks about the Kona heat – “you’re running along and then ‘wham’ the heat just hits you like a hammer in the head” and that is exactly what it felt like. I resolved to walk up the hills as necessary and walk through the aid stations – you know, enjoy the scenery and free refreshments. This wasn’t the plan I had in mind, but what can you do? I made sure to stick with the nutrition plan so I didn’t have a complete melt down.

RR caught me a couple of miles into the run. She wasn’t blazing along either, so I was feeling OK that I was struggling. I kept seeing her on the switch-backs as she pulled away. Then I saw MM coming up behind me. I figured she would be running me down pretty quickly, but she wasn’t catching me nearly as quickly as I expected.

I kept looking for everyone else, but everyone looks like some stage of shit and I was merely concentrating on keeping the feet moving forward.

I was determined to run from aid station to aid station. At each stop it was water on my head, one cup of ice down the shirt, one cup of ice down the shorts (yes, it sounds horrible, but was actually incredibly refreshing) and Gatorade. I will say that fairly quickly the sloshy, bloaty feeling went away replaced by gassy but that went away as well (when I was in isolated areas – I’m a little modest about those things.)

I was taking GUs and salt tabs as planned and these certainly kept a tough run from becoming a miserable run. Don’t get me wrong it was a suffer-fest/death march but it was manageable – physically and, most importantly, mentally.

I made two minor mistakes/breaks in concentration. Some of the GUs I ate on the run contained caffeine. From past experience this is never a good thing for me. I had other options, but was too tired/lazy to find them. The aid stations were giving out Coke and it just got to the point where I could not say no. I had to have one. The caffeinated GUs and Coke quickly caught up with me. I recalled a conversation I had with my sister on the phone on the drive up that morning. “Todd, mom and I have one request. DO NOT embarrass the family by shitting yourself.” These words were screaming in my head as I was in the middle of mile 8. OH MY GOD! Am I going to make it to a port-a-potty or do I hit the woods?

Rounding a corner there was an aid station and – thank the Lord Almighty – a port-a-potty. Son of a bitch some guy just ran in there. FINE! Stand and clench. Stand and clench. Pray that no one recognizes me. Finally, dude comes out. It was all over in about 45 seconds. I felt so relaxed and hopped out with fresh legs. When I say fresh legs, I mean I could go back to the shuffle I was now calling "running."

I felt like the worst was behind me (literally and figuratively) and I could just concentrate on finishing, but in those last four miles or so I got double side stitches that forced me to walk. A lot. I tried to alter my breathing pattern and it worked for a while but they kept coming back. Again, it wasn’t cramping from dehydration or lack of salt (I've been there and recognize the signs,) I’m not sure what it was (in a restaurant the next day, I heard another racer talking about the same thing happening to them) I actually ran/shuffled more than I walked so I was OK with that, but it was maddening.

Back on the golf course I ran/shuffled to the finish for the last couple of miles. Suddenly there is a woman running beside me and she starts chatting with me. I mention how I am really enjoying my death march and she points out that we actually paid for this. At some point she got in front of me and I saw her number - #1060 – the woman I ran off the road at the bike-in. Holy shit, she didn’t remember me. I made a note to find her at the finish and apologize and buy her a beer. She finished like 15 seconds ahead of me and I never did find her.

So what was my take away from the run? That course is fucking hard and people who can train in that heat have a distinct advantage. I, however, never gave up, never really wanted to give up and actually felt good mentally and physically at the end. My mental attitude was still positive, was still encouraging, was still being nice. Even though the run took me over two hours, it seemed to go by pretty quickly - as I recall now and even when I was in the midst of it. After all, isn't that what it's really all about? Not quitting. Reevaluating and adjusting your definition of success based on conditions. Although I will admit to some disappointment that my time was not what I had expected and that my run was no where near what I was planning, I am more proud and encouraged by the way I worked the plan, adjusted where needed and never lost faith or the ability to really enjoy the race. Given the chance I will do the race again, without a doubt.

Next up: all the fun stuff that happened before and after the race with pictures. Stay tuned.

Honu 70.3 - Let the race continue (unabridged) (part 2 of 4)

2010-06-07T17:00:00.002-05:00

I finally got my ass on my bike. (This will be a shorter post than the previous one because there is just a lot of pedaling and not much drama - which is a VERY good thing.)

Sitting here now (still at the Starbucks on Palani Drive in Kona, Hawaii) the bike seems to have flown by. I guess that is a testament to my uneventful ride. I remember feeling like the pokey puppy heading out of transition to get on the Queen K highway, but I was advised to take it very easy up this deceptively steep and long hill. It was valuable advice to heed. You don't want to turn yourself inside out getting up the first quarter mile hill in a 56 mile race. I did realize that I have for-shit bike handling skills. I was all over the fricking place. I was kind of embarrassed with my poor skills, but whatever, no one got hurt (at least not yet.)

Once I got on the highway I just settled into an easy rhythm. For some reason my cadence sensor wasn't working so I had no idea how fast I was pedaling, but I figured I could go by feel and if I was a little fast, it was better than grinding away on too high a gear. I just kept an eye on my heart rate and made sure I wasn't working too hard.

You always hear about the winds on the Queen K highway, but until you are out there you have no idea. The wind doesn't stop. In my opinion the worst wind isn't a head wind, it's the cross winds, which we had all day. I haven't had my bike for very long and so I decided to use my training wheels instead of getting race wheels and it was a great decision for me. My left wrist was so sore from fighting the cross winds blowing from the right. I would have been exhausted if I had to fight much more with deep rim race wheels. It was nothing scary, but you sure had to pay attention and make sure you didn't get blown into anyone.

The course is hilly and it doubles back a couple of times, so any hill you go down you have to go back up later. I was cruising up the hills with little effort. When I say cruising, I don't mean flying. I was getting passed on some of the uphills, but I kept repeating a mantra I read somewhere - "You will pass people and you will get passed." I just kept to my plan and made sure I stayed in the saddle and didn't redline my heartrate up the hills.

Now the downhills were another story. I fricking hammered them. (Now, when I say hammered, I mean I pedaled down them as fast as I could while not letting my heartrate or cadence get out of control and I coasted very little.) I was a little more conservative in the first half, but on the second half I absolutely could not go fast enough down the hills. I really wanted a higher gear. And there were some LONG downhills. I topped 40 mph a couple of times. It was fantastic!

About three-quarters of the way through the ride I caught RR. I slowed down and we were chatting. It was kind of funny to me. Here we are racing along talking about stupid stuff. Then I realized she was talking to all the guys. She was looking for fricking dates. I was going to pass her, which was kind of surprising to me, but like I said I was hammering the downhills. We stayed close for awhile and then I started to pull away on an uphill. She said she was tired and let me go. The last thing I heard her say was "Throw me a tow rope!" I replied, "Give me a fricking push!" Really, I just didn't want to cramp her style and scare off any potential dates.

I was most proud of myself on the bike for the flawless execution of my nutrition plan. I had prepared my aero bottle up front and two water bottles in back with my drink of choice. I had an open cage on my seat tube for water and then when I had emptied the bottles in back I would chuck them and grab Gatorade. I had GUs taped to my top tube and a bunch of backups in my jersey and I had my salt tabs. Coach and I had developed a schedule for feeding and I followed it to a T. At some point I lost one of my back bottles, but I just kept downing the Gatorade. There were only two glitches in the plan. First, I can't do math. I was supposed to have a GU every 20 minutes and I figured I'd be on the bike between 2:30 and 2:45. That would be at least 8 GUs. I taped on 6. I am dumb. But I had my back ups. Second, at one of the water hand-offs I grabbed a Gatorade and they had forgotten to take the inner seal off. I was like "What the FUCK!?" I had to tear the top off with my teeth and then tear the seal off.

Overall the bike when well, but of course it can never go perfectly. I've been dealing with a minor saddle sore for a couple of weeks, but it is now a major saddle sore. (Anyone with any suggestions please forward.)

The bike leg is coming to an end. I am hydrated, still sweating (although my shorts are very salt stained) and my legs were feeling pretty fresh. Coming up to the bike-in I am getting out of my shoes and once again my fucked up bike handling skills rear their ugliness. As I am struggling to get one foot out I start to weave and all of the sudden there is a woman beside me and I have now forced her off the path into cinders along the side. She swears (rightfully) and I apologize (feebly) and she thankfully doesn't go down. Her number is #1060 so if any of you San Diego peeps know Kebby Holden please put her in contact with me so I can apologize profusely for being a total dumbass. (We actually saw each other later on the run course and talked, but I didn't realize it was her until later and I couldn't find her after the race and she finished immediately in front of me.) (As I reread this before posting I am realizing I may not be solely responsible for that mistake - what was she thinking trying to pass me coming into the bike dismount area? But whatever, I still have terrible bike skills.)

So now I have my feet out of my shoes and I have one foot down and am trying to throw the other over my seat and it gets hung up. So I am hopping on one foot with one leg up in the air as I am manhandling my bike and trying not to fall on my face. (Anyone who has video of this, I would love to see what an embarrassment I was.) I had forgotten that I still had a Gatorade bottle in back and my leg caught it.

I was again surprised to see how few bikes were in the racks. My bike is definitely not my strong suit. I came in at 2:42:00. So surprised. I ended up 121st overall and was 21st in my division.

Stay tuned for the run. This is where the real drama took place.

Honu 70.3 - Let the race begin (unabridged) (part 1 of 4)

2010-06-06T22:11:00.016-05:00

I am sitting in Starbucks on Palani Drive in Kona, Hawaii at 5:15 PM on Sunday night. My flight doesn't leave for over 5 hours so I figured hey, I've played enough solitaire, maybe I should write a blog post, but what in the world would I write about? Oh, yeah - this thing I did yesterday.

Blatantly ripping off the "out of order" race report style from others. I'll talk about the race in this post and then other stuff that happened over the weekend in subsequent posts.

(I was trying to think of a nice segue, but I'll just launch into it.)

After setting up our transitions we headed down to warm up for the swim. MM was the only person in our group I could find so, as I had been doing all weekend (why change, right?) I latched on like a barnacle. The warm up was good. They started calling us to line up as MM and I were kind of floating around. Well, I was peeing, it's really the only reason I do a swim warm up.

MM suggested we swim to the start instead of trying to plow through the crowd on the beach. There is a large rock outcropping that we had to swim around (it's not in the course, don't worry) and as we rounded the corner directly below was a HUGE honu (that's a sea turtle for the mainlanders.) He was just floating there. Definitely a good luck omen.

Our group had all swam the day before and MM and I seemed to be pretty close, speed-wise, so I stuck close to her as we picked our spots - a little ways away from the pros, but definitely in the front row. I kept her in sight, but didn't want to be too close because I would have hated to tear her goggles off or have her punch me in the face when the gun went off because when the gun goes off there there are no friends. (And, frankly, MM is fricking mean.)

The wind and current kept blowing us in front of the start line and they kept telling us to move back, but it was getting close to the start and I couldn't imagine them holding up the race to get a fluid crowd of swimmers in a straight line. I kept moving back as instructed, but I had my body turned to go and it's a good thing, because they fired the gun without warning. I don't think I've reacted to anything as fast as I reacted to that gun. I had probably 100 people directly behind me who wanted to get to where I was as fast as possible. I wanted to stay in front or on top of all of them.

Immediately after my first stroke and kick my left calf cramped. It felt like a baseball on the back of my leg, but there was NOTHING I could do except keep going. I may have kicked with my toes flexed or just dragged my legs behind me - I can't remember - because all I could think of was I need to get the fuck out of there.

I swam with my head up for about 200 meters (which probably didn't help my calf) over everyone who got in my way. Miraculously I came out unscathed. Had my goggles, wasn't grabbed, punched or stabbed, wasn't swum over. I had taken the hole shot.

I busted ass to the first turn buoy. I was swimming fast but under control. It was hard at this point to find any feet to get on. I was bouncing between people trying to figure out the best line. I finally settled into a good strong rhythm, was able to work out my calf and was sighting to the first buoy with no trouble. I ended up taking it a little wide because I didn't want to get stuck in the scrum that would happen because the pack hadn't spread out. The problem with this strategy was that I took too obtuse of an angle (didn't cut back hard into the line) and found my self alone, WAY outside the pack (I have a tendency to do this.) Now I had to angle back into the pack, try to sight the buoys and battle directly into the chop that had now blown up. I was basically sighting on the spray from the main column trying to get back in the chase.

After what seemed like an eternity, I got back into the main group and I then, miracle of miracles I found someone's feet. Then someone found my feet. I was thinking - "Holy shit! I am fricking racing this." At this point I had no idea where I was - either on the course or in the pack. I just kept hammering.

(There was a lot of swimming at this point so I'll just jump to the end.)

As I was coming to the swim-out there were not a lot of people around me. I was worried that I ended up in no man's land and wasted a lot of energy on a slow-ass swim. I expected there to be a lot of people around figuring that people who live in Hawaii and California would have strong open ocean swimming skills. I had swam one open water swim this year prior to this. In a wet suit, in a lake, smooth as glass, consisting of two ten minute legs. I trotted up the beach and saw the clock flip to 30:01. I really wanted to go under 30 minutes, but with my scenic route and the windy conditions I was OK with it, but I still had no idea where I was in race.

I got up to the bike transition and then realized why there weren't many people around. There were a lot of bikes still in the racks. I had swam way faster than I realized. And it felt so fricking easy.

I was 56th overall in men for the swim and 6th (out of 206) in my age group. I know it's a triathlon and not a swim meet, but it was an unbelievable way to start the race.

(I'd like to tell you all about my fantastic transition, but it was a damn horror show. I was very deliberate getting all my crap on and then when I needed to mount my bike, it was like I had never been on clipless pedals. Sometimes my transitions are smooth and fast and other times, like this one, they are struggle fests.)

Race Eve

2010-06-04T22:41:00.002-05:00

I have to say, I don't think I ever anticipated sitting in a rented condo on the big island of Hawaii watching "Say Yes To The Dress" with a bunch of people I have never met in person (but knew through blogs) the afternoon before I race the biggest half Ironman I have ever done, but here I am.

Everything is checked in and set. I'll put together my race day stuff later on tonight and then try to get some sleep before a VERY early wake up.

My brain is just too busy right now to put together coherent thoughts so I'll make this short.

I do have to say thanks to everyone who has been sending me well wishes and especially A who is home with the kids so I can run off to pursue my little hobby. Thanks honey but, it's not nearly as fun without you.

Catch you all on the flip-flop.

Departure Eve

2010-06-01T18:08:00.004-05:00

I have eaten my last dinner with the family for the week. Actually, I ate dinner with the kids because A was getting her hairs cut and then I sat and talked to A while she ate. On such a touching family occasion what wonderful food did we partake in? Hot dogs warmed in the microwave for the kids and brats steamed in beer for the ad-ults. (We also had salad.) What a wonderful meal to send me on my way to the south Pacific. (It was all we had in the house.)

I have opened and closed the bike box for the last time - #1,438. (I swear. I can't imagine putting anything else in or taking anything out.) I figure it's about 55 lbs or about 5 lbs overweight meaning I will incur some horrendous penalty at check-in.

I have obsessed and re-obsessed about what I am bringing. Packed lots of stuff in zip-lock bags. Changed from the small carry-on to the larger carry-on after trying unsuccessfully to cram all my shit in the smaller bag and then realizing I need to pack my helmet, running shoes and bike shoes. I am still worried about having my gels confiscated at security and equally concerned about having my chamois cream taken. All I have left to pack is my little toiletry bag after I put my toothbrush in it tonight.

The rest of the night is E's soccer game and then sitting around watching the numbers change on the clocks in the house. My flight leaves at 7:45 AM and I arrive in Hawaii at 1:54 PM. 24 hours from now I still will not have landed, but when I do and I after I check-in to my accommodations hopefully it's hit the ocean for a nice 20 or 30 minute swim. From there I am relying on others to entertain me, which means I will more than likely spend a quiet night alone polishing my axles and adjusting the pressure of my tubes (on my BIKE you sickos.) I will have a car so I can find some strip clubs, er malls to shop for all the crap the TSA confiscated on the way over. I am sure my plane ride will provide endless amounts of blog fodder.

Here's hoping I, and all my junk, make it to Hawaii in one piece.

The Pits

2010-05-27T11:26:00.006-05:00

This stems from an IM conversation my sister and I had. It for sure fits in the TMI category, but what the hell, right?

Anyone who's read this blog probably doesn't need to be reminded that I am a heavy sweater. It's particularly bad when I am training. I'll lose 8 pounds in a warm 2 hour bike ride. Easily. And a long run, forget it. I can lose that and more, when you add in the liquid I take in. Now when I am sitting around I don't sweat more than the average person. With the exception of my arm pits. (I warned you - TMI!)

It's nowhere as bad as this guy, but it's annoying and - especially in the no undershirt weather of summer - unsightly. I can feel the sweat start to trickle down my sides and it drives me nuts. (Totally gross, right? I KNOW!) So I have been using this "clinical strength" antiperspirant for awhile now and it's a total scam! It's more expensive, there is less of it in the stick and it doesn't work!

Now technically I am not following the directions, but the directions run contrary to an average person's life. In the morning I take a shower, put on antiperspirant and get dressed. The directions on this product say to put it on at night. WTF!? I don't need to worry about this shit at night and what happens when I take that shower in the morning and wash it off? Now I am completely unprotected all day until I go to bed. Granted, the product isn't a complete failure - it just doesn't kick in until mid-afternoon, but by that time I have changed my shirt like five times and grossed out numerous people. I just don't get it. I am lucky in the fact that I'm not stinky. In fact, I have a tendency to smell just like mountain prairie flowers. Or bacon. Both of which are acceptable odors to emit in my estimation. (And yes, I have checked and double checked with my wife to make sure that I actually don't stink and it's not just that I am used to my "perfume.")

So, I continue to struggle with my affliction and I now wonder about the people who have read this entire post. You were given warnings and opportunities to turn away, but you stayed with it to the end. What kind of sick individuals have I cyber-befriended? (Apparently the best kind of individuals who have no problem ridiculing me and my handicaps in the comments section. Have at it!)

One Week

2010-05-26T12:00:00.004-05:00

I have been procrastinating writing a new post for a while, but the time has come to get it out. The last few weeks have been a little emotionally draining, but that kind of shit is boring. So as to not leave you all hangin' - everything is fine. It was potential work stuff, combined with some hard training and rainy days, but now the sun is out, it's been oppressively hot and I leave for Hawaii in one week.

In order to keep my mind off my misery (not really, but kind of, maybe a little - and tapering doesn't help) I have been obsessing about my trip to Hawaii to race the Rohto Honu Ironman 70.3 Half-Ironman Triathlon Endurance Race (or whatever the fuck they are calling it.) I've been creating my packing list, reviewing it, double checking it and then editing it for typos. I've been cyber stalking a variety of people who I "know" but have never met to coordinate a time to meet. All while worrying that they will think/find out I'm some psycho/weirdo and slash my bike tires so they never have to see me again. (FYI - I am not "psycho" but some may consider me "weird" but that is related to said race.)

I'm not really that worried about peple not "liking" me. I am more worried that they will be disappointed that I don't wear rad horn-rim glasses, v-neck cable-knit sweaters and smoke a pipe. Or that I don't look like a hedgehog with bagpipes and a tamoshanter cap. I look just like your average, slightly less than middle-aged dad from Minnesota with a lot of Northern European ancestry. In other words: a particularly pale white guy with thinning hair. (Betcha can't wait to meet me now.)

So for the next week I will continue to rework my packing list, bother strangers via the interwebs, obsess about my weight and generally walk around like I have had one pot of coffee too many.

A little less training will give me more time to post on my blog. I'll try to find something interesting and not race related to keep it interesting.

What the hell!?

2010-05-10T13:15:00.002-05:00

This is just a quick post to let everyone who used to read my blog know that I have not abandoned my blog, but have simply been too busy to take the time to post. This week is crazy busy with the culmination of a big project I have been working on and more work on another project that will hopefully wrap up sooner rather than later. I hope to start posting more regularly next week again, especially with Honu just under four weeks away.

Hopefully my tweets and FB posts will tide you over a bit longer.

Northern Italy and the Dolomites

2010-04-26T17:33:00.016-05:00

A's best friend from high school married an Italian guy. They live in a village just outside of Trento in the foothills of the Dolomites. They have a couple of girls that are about the same age as E & F and they come back to the States every summer so all the kids know each other pretty well. Visiting them was the impetus for the whole trip. We have been invited over and over to come visit but they are always here in the summer and a week seems like to short a time to visit them on every other spring break. But this year we had two weeks so - trip on!

So these pictures are kind of in reverse order, but you all probably don't really care.

The ski jumps where the Nordic World Championships will be held next year.

Heading up the cable car.

Looking down from the cable car. That twisty line is the road we drove up.

Heading to the top.

Looking back the way we came.

Some SkyRunner celeb poster at the restaurant on top.

Chilling and eating lunch.

Local beer.

Hanging with our friend at the coffee bar.

Looking back down. The little cluster in the middle is a group of people including ski patrol and a sled. Injuries up here can not be good.

The tunnel below goes under the ski run.

Hardcore biking in the snowy Dolomites. (I was jealous.)

An Ape (ah-pay) "screaming" up the mountain.

Biker.

Down in the valley.

Towns clinging to the mountain sides.

Market in Bolzano.

House on a "hill" overlooking Bolzano.

Main square in Bolzano.

Near our friend's in-laws house. The "new" town is to the right - 300 years old. The "old" town is to the left - 500 years old.

Mountain view from our friend's place.

Castle above our friend's town - Pergine

I ran up to the castle. It's a hotel now.

More Venice

2010-04-22T20:12:00.007-05:00

Here are some more pictures of Venice, again, in no particular order. Enjoy!

Finally! Italy!

2010-04-21T15:14:00.007-05:00

I am sure there are lots of words I could use to talk about Italy, but it's taking me too long to put them together so I will minimize the words for now and offer you all some pictures.

First up, Venice. This is, without doubt, my favorite city. We spent four days and saw damn near the whole place. I would go back in a second because there is still a bunch we didn't see. Some other time. Here is what we saw. (In no particular order.)

I'll post more Venice tomorrow. (I took A LOT of pictures.)

Man Down!

2010-04-19T14:16:00.003-05:00

That "man" would be me.

I was out for a run last Friday - 8 miles keeping it in Endurance Zone and finishing fast the last mile as directed. I mean I was finishing really fast - 6:45/mile fast. When suddenly I was airborne - arms stretched out like Superman - and then I was slamming chest first into the ground and listening as the wind was knocked out of me. UNGH!

After I came to a stop and realized I couldn't breath, I rolled over on my back and simultaneously stopped my watch. I lay there for a second while I started breathing - checked to make sure I had all my shit together - teeth, chin, lips: check. Palms: right one shredded, left one sore and dirty but no blood. Knees: surprisingly only mildly scraped. Nipples: intact (Thank you heart rate monitor/nipple protector.) I couldn't believe my face didn't make contact with the ground - them is some strong neck muscles. And then I saw the culprit.

When I was tying my shoes prior to my run I said to my self, "Huh, that one loop looks kind of big. I must be tying my shoes tighter or something. I hope that doesn't flop all over the place and annoy the shit out of me." That little observation came back to haunt me, for as I was flying home on the last mile my toe caught in that oversized shoelace loop and sent me sailing, body-slamming to the ground. Hilarious? Probably, if anyone saw it, but I didn't see anyone around. Painful? Most assuredly.

Being the dedicated age group triathlete with a ball buster for a coach that I am, I got back up and finished my run. That last mile - 6:49. Tha's right!

Ah, but there is more. I biked for over 3 hours on Saturday - easy no problems. Then Sunday I was all excited to run again - 9 miles alternating Endurance Zone/Steady State Zone. It took a while to get going, then it started to hurt. Finally at mile 5 I felt like someone had stuck a knife between a couple of ribs in my chest. And it hurt the rest of the day. So I went to see the doctor this morning. You will all be disappointed to know that I do not have broken ribs - not even worth an X-ray. Probably bruised or pulled some soft tissue - whatever. So now I have to endure being called a wuss (or worse) from my coach. (I'm just kidding - she is very supportive.) (not really - she is really kind of horrifying.) And listen to my wife chuckle every time I wince because she knows what wimps middle aged men are - she works with them every day. I get no respect.

I don't even get good scabs to pick. This was the worst injury ever!

A - Lo - Ha!

2010-03-10T16:58:00.003-06:00

Life has really settled into the mundane around here. Nothing of too much interest is happening, thus my long gaps between posts. That will change in a couple of weeks when we leave for our Spring Break trip to Italy. I guess there has been some other news - I am set to race at Hawaii 70.3. I bought my plane tickets last week and confirmed my accommodations. (If you want to know my itinerary - so you know when to avoid the Big Island - send me an email.) Now, I just need the new ride to arrive and for all the snow and potholes to go away so I can get out on the road instead of hammering on the trainer.

Training has been going well. My coach likes to see if she can make me barf (not yet, but close.) I am WAY ahead of last year - even ahead of where I was at the END of last year. I am feeling fit and, now that my injuries are under control, much more positive. It will be a fun spring.

Like I said, not much to speak of. You are free to return to your lives.

A Tired Subject

2010-03-03T12:10:00.003-06:00

I have been debating about writing this post for some time. To me the subject seems kind of tired, but as I don't have anything else I thought I would just go for it.

"Health Clubs"

I have developed a love/hate relationship with "health clubs." Part of this is news (the 'love' part) and part of this is nothing new to anyone who has read my blog for awhile (that would be the 'hate' part.)

(Tangential thought alert! Every time I write a post critical of my favorite targets - airlines and "health clubs" - or any other thing that irritates me, I think about all the jobs I can't apply for. Oh, well - it's more important to be entertaining than employed, right?)

So this "love" part is new. I only "love" the club because it has given me the opportunity to rehab my injury without having to struggle outside in the snow, ice and muck. So other than that, it's really mostly "hate."

I have about 10,000 reasons why I hate "health clubs" but I'll whittle it down to a select few.

Locker rooms are GROSS (dudes are gross in locker rooms)

I can't count the number of old band-aids I have seen in the shower. And they are folded up so the person had to take it off, fold it and then just leave it on the shower floor. Disgusting.

Then there is the snorting, coughing, hacking, spitting and snot-rocket blowing in the shower. I guess it's fine if you have to do that, but maybe without so much gusto. Ick.

And in no particular order: dude's junk on the edge of the counter, dude's bare ass on the bench, dudes walking around bare-ass naked - just wrap a fricking towel around your waist, dude's sitting in the sauna - legs spread (with or without towel) - facing the window. I DO NOT WANT TO SEE YOUR DANGLING, HAIRY MAN-PARTS, thank you very much.

Other disgusting people

On at least three occasions now I have put my water bottle in the holder on the treadmill and then have had problems getting it out because someone left gum in there. WTF!? I check now. It always seems to be the same kind of gum. Just spit it out before you start.

"Health Club" is a fallacy

I refer to a "health club" rather than a "gym." To me, a "gym" is something at a school with basketball hoops, a cargo net and climbing ropes. And I put it in quotes because I don't really think I see a lot of "health" being gained. I have to admit that I don't know nuthin', 'bout nuthin' on this subject, but I see so few people sweating, breathing even a little heavily or doing exercises correctly that it hardly seems like a place people are getting "healthy." Even when they are working with "personal trainers" they seem to be "working" very little.

Waste of money

I find a "health club" to be a total waste of money. I do have to temper this opinion somewhat, because I have gotten a lot of use out of it these last few months, but for the most part I think a lot of money is paid for very little use. Now that it's getting nice out the last thing I will want to do is run inside so it will become even less useful.

The Cast of Characters

Then there's the cast of characters:

The chick who is there seemingly all day, everyday - halter top (open back, so no bra?) and a tennis skirt. On the elliptical, not at all working hard, typing on her laptop.

The heavy sweater who hammers on every machine he is on and sweats profusely - (that would be me.)

The muscle-meatheads who wear tight wife-beaters (matching with their friends) or muscle t-shirts with the sleeves cut wide open and then walk around all puffed up. It doesn't disguise their gut - so dude, you're not "buff" you're just "fat."

And finally, the fat complainer. I see this woman, who is working with a personal trainer, and every time the trainer has her do something even moderately strenuous she exclaims, "Oh my god, you can't be serious?" It's never fails to make me smile. In an uncomfortable way.

I guess this kind of turned into a rant. Sorry about that. I'll try to find my funny again for my next post.

"Shitter's Full"

2010-02-25T09:48:00.003-06:00

We have been invaded by the local news media. Here they are in front of our house. Been there all day.

I was tempted (and actually encouraged by my wife) to throw on the "Cousin Eddie"

grab my three-legged dog

and see if I could get a little air time. I couldn't find any cigars or my white belt. Maybe next time.

Don't Want to Live Like a Refugee

2010-02-24T13:25:00.007-06:00

This post is for all you Ass-Facebook friends. ; )

Last night we were refugees. All right, not really, but we were evacuees. The story goes like this. About 1:30 I come home after a lunch meeting to a closed off street and a cop camped out. I park my car and ask what's going on. He explains that a crew was using a horizontal boring machine to lay some cable along the busy street that is near our house (I had seen them working earlier.) Somewhere along the line they nicked a gas main (the BIG gas pipe) and they were in the process of excavating down to fix it. He went on to tell me that we were safe and could be in our houses, they just didn't want cars driving down the street.

So I walk down to my house and run into a utility worker and ask him what's up. He says they are excavating down to get to the gas leak, but that we are safe because the gas is venting and there shouldn't be any danger, but be sure to let them know if we smell gas in our house. I had another meeting at 2:00 so I grabbed a couple of things and left for an hour. When I came back the street was still blocked off, but now there were flames shooting out of the street (or so it seemed from a distance) and there were fire trucks and all my neighbors were walking up the street towards me. I stopped one and she told me that the house on the corner had exploded and was completely gone. I didn't know which corner - on our side of the street or the other side? She said that everyone was being ordered to evacuate because it was still dangerous. I talked to the cop and told him my dog was still in my house and he let me down the street to get him. As I am going into my house another cop comes up and says I have to evacuate and I tell him I need to get my dog and I will be gone. He waits while I get the dog and leave.

While I was sitting in my car with the dog trying to get a hold of my wife so she knew not to come home the mobile units from every TV station in town pull up and park, effectively blocking the street. What a bunch of douchebags! Luckily the cop was on top of it and told them they had to park in a parking lot about four blocks away. See ya, suckers!

When we were finally able to get back into our house this morning there were three news trucks parked in front of our house and in the middle of the street totally preventing anyone who lives on the street from getting to their homes and, god forbid, if there were another emergency no first responders would be able to get through. To make matters worse, every person who walked down the street was accosted by a reporter asking for a comment. I just scowl and give them the "stink eye" and they avoid me, but my sweet wife ended up on the tube. She's much cuter than I am anyway so she is a much better representative for our family and neighborhood.

The house that exploded was across the street and two houses away from us. We lived in the house behind it for eight years.

Here are some pictures:

We were evacuated until midnight last night, but we just stayed at my in-laws (they are vacationing in Florida.) It was a terrible night's sleep. First, they have a terrible bed. It's one of those "Sleep Number" beds and is so uncomfortable. Second, it was my in-laws bed. It just felt weird to be sleeping in their bed. With their daughter. Ick.

Now we are back in our house and the main street is open (but not ours) and every morbidly curious person is slowly driving past, getting-off on some poor family's tragedy. I just don't get that. At least everyone is safe.

And this is why I couldn't do my bike or swim (yes, the pool was open but I wasn't about to chase around and find my suit and goggles with a cop watching me through our front door.)

Getting to Florida

2010-02-16T11:06:00.006-06:00

So this trip to Florida started out as a damn fuck-show. We pull into the parking ramp and as we are getting our bags out of the car A realizes she doesn’t have her license in her billfold. We pull all the cards and crap out of her wallet and have it strewn about the back of the car searching and searching again for something that isn’t there. I was surprisingly calm. What are you gonna do? Shit happens.

In a fluster we decide that I will take the kids and get checked in. (We were checked in but our seats are all over the plane so we wanted to see if we could get a couple together anyway.) A gets in the car and speeds home.

I take the kids into the terminal and then realize that A still has their boarding passes. Then I realize that I have no easy way to access their tickets to get new boarding passes because A has the credit card she booked the tickets with along with my credit card which she took to get out of the parking ramp.

As I am standing there slowly calculating my next move I look over and see this woman. She is immediately familiar and I do a double take. Now, A watches this show called “Millionaire Matchmaker.” I occasionally watch with her and on the most recent occasion there was this CRAZY woman millionaire looking for a man and now she is standing in front of me.

Here she is at the airport.

Here she is on the show. (Nice fake lips and too much Botox, bitch!)

It finally dawned on me that the only thing I could do was get in line to meet with a “ticket agent.” Oh, joy of joys. That fucking line was a million miles long. While in line I called Delta to see if they could rebook us on the good chance we would miss our flight. Although not surly they weren’t particularly bubbly either. I guess I won’t complain – at least I didn’t get verbally abused. Turns out if we didn’t make this flight we wouldn’t be able to leave until tomorrow night. “Kids. Start saying prayers.”

We get through the line and I’m pissing around with a kiosk at which I can get my information but nothing for A or the kids. Then my phone rings and it’s A. She is entering the parking ramp and I tell her which side to park on and which door we are closest to. I cancel out of our check-in and A comes down the escalator and we get together, get through security and run to the gate. (I walked quickly. A and the kids ran.)

Gate agents – Pissy. Can’t/won’t help get us seats together. “You’ll have to rely on the kindness of strangers.” Thanks very little for your customer service.

My darling children’s prayers were answered and although we aren’t sitting together, we are all on the flight. (Why didn’t I say a prayer? You should all know me well enough, I am piloting that rocketship to hell remember and god probably would hear my request and laugh and laugh and laugh.)

A is sitting in a middle seat next to a gargantuanely fat guy. You know, the guy who is so fat his lily-ass white, hairy, inevitably sweaty belly oozes over his belt and out from under his too small shirt. I am surrounded by babies. They’re cute and, for the most part, quiet, but a crying baby drives me up a wall. I know that sounds intolerant, but I don’t fault the parents or the kids. I remember being there. It ain’t easy traveling with little ones and, contrary to popular belief, they have minds of their own and don’t obey, like dogs. (I know, inconvenient, right?)

We made it to Fort Meyers and are off to get our rental car. As soon as I get off the plane I lose my cell signal. WTF!? I hate Florida and this is only making it worse. We go to rent a car and our credit card is declined. WTF!? I call "customer service" to find out what is going on and try to calmly inquire with A as to when she paid the bill. (It wasn't received well. I am assuming it was a combination of the situation and perhaps my delivery.) Turns out we are over our limit. So I start to question the "customer service" person about recent charges. (The thing is, we never use this credit card except for travel and special large purchases, so we are befuddled as to why we would be over our limit.) I get online and see that A has indeed paid the bill by BillPay, but it hasn't cleared yet. I tell the "customer service" person, and they suggest we do a phone payment, but it won't clear until Sunday (it's Friday night) so I tell him forget it. (Why would I pay the bill twice, you dope?)

Now, to rent a car we can use our debit card, which I checked and has plenty of funds, but we need a return itinerary so we have to go back to the ticket agent and get this, which takes way longer than it should. Finally, we get a car.

We open the door of our "non-smoking" car and it smells like a fricking ashtray. There, in the middle of the driver's seat, is a cigarette burn. God I hate Florida.

(While driving, A and I have a calm conversation about the credit card. Turns out we returned a huge purchase that has not been credited back to the card yet. Neither of us thought to check. Then we laughed because as we were getting in the car to get the kids out of school A had said, "I can't believe how smoothly this trip is going." She admitted it was the kiss of death.)

The Partial Sunshine State

2010-02-12T09:35:00.003-06:00

We are heading down to Florida in a couple of hours for an extra long weekend. As has been well established, I am a fan of none of the following things: air travel, Florida, sitting around by the pool or on the beach. A and the kids will be staying a little longer than me. I am sure there will be many "interesting" adventures to report on.

Oh Monday - You Can Suck It!

2010-02-08T09:54:00.004-06:00

Well, not unlike many other areas of the country, it's snowing again. Enough already. I am supposed to have a rest day and now nature is forcing an unscheduled weight and core workout on me. Bastard.

I am sure you are all wondering, "Assface, what do you do on a Monday such as the day you are currently experiencing?" And to you I respond, "It's MR. Assface to you!"

Seeing as how the dog has been cooped up too much lately, I took him to doggy daycare. This should tire him out so he won't have any energy to chew socks, mittens, LEGOs, Barbies, my Garmin and the endless numbers of dirty Kleenexes my wife is producing.

Yes, my wife is sick. My wife never gets sick so this is somewhat blogworthy. She currently has a bad cold, that I really hope doesn't develop into something worse, like pneumonia, because that could happen with her. (Compromised immune system, which is, strangely the reason she so rarely gets sick - she gets a monthly treatment that gives her IS a recharge.) With her cold comes endless nose blowing and Kleenexes, then the dog hovers around like she is dropping bacon bits from her nose. We have stopped chasing him. He just chews them until the flavor is gone, they are soaking wet and then he shreds them to bits. Stoopid dog. (He is chewer and a shredder. I have to give him credit for not actually "eating" the stuff he destroys. I know because I "check" - dog owners, you know what I'm talking about.)

Later on the docket is ART practitioner #2. #1 didn't seem to know what he was doing. When I reported that it really didn't hurt coach said, "Well, that can't be right" and her ART person concurred. This guy had better know what he's doing!

All right, I better get in the car and on the road since a drive that takes 10 minutes on a normal day will now take an hour in this weather. Stoopid winter.

I Don't Think I Did That Right

2010-02-02T10:33:00.014-06:00

We got back from Las Vegas a couple of days ago and I have to say it may have been an epic failure.

That is not to say that I didn't have a good time with A and no kids and our friends and their new baby and JS. I mean, there was no drama or scandal or gun play or gratuitous nudity or hostage situations or blackmail or need for massive doses of antibiotics.

The flight there on Delta/Northworst Thursday night was actually fairly pleasant. We had a male flight attendant who was incredibly helpful and patient and, dare I say, friendly. The return flight on Sunday was not that way.

We flew back on US Airways, which is undoubtedly the WORST airline in America. (That "honor" changes depending on the airline I've flown on most recently, so for now US Airways "wins.") First off the planes were totally "ghetto" - looking like they hadn't been cleaned or updated since the late 1980's. And then there were the employees. WTF!? If you hate dealing with people, don't work for an airline where you have to "WORK WITH PEOPLE." These were some of the surliest, most redneck, fuckups I have ever seen working for an airline. The gate agent makes an announcement that the flight is full and there may not be enough space for carry-ons so they would allow you to check your bag at the gate free of charge. I had a fairly large carry-on so I walked up to get a gate check. This BITCH looked at me like I was the biggest piece of shit she had ever seen, rolled her eyes and said, "Yeah, I suppose." Well, FUCK YOU for doing your job - she had a hand full of luggage tags - that is what she was DOING! Then A says she can take hers, too. She looks at A like she is slightly smaller piece of shit than me and says, "Yours will have to with the regular luggage." No explanation why. Nothing. FUCK! (There. That is the requisite "airline" rant that you have come to loathe and expect whenever I have to travel. It's cathartic for me. Thanks.)

There was food. We ate at Nobu on Friday night. Now, I love sushi and Japanese food, but I was expecting a less than exciting experience considering the reputation Nobu has - that reputation being amazingly fantastic. Well, I have to say that it lived up to the hype. The food was phenomenal and we had a great time sitting around laughing and people watching. Saturday for lunch I insisted on In-N-Out Burger. It was my first and won't be my last. (I was aware of the "secret menu" and now I wish I would have taken some time to research it so I could have ordered something a little less "standard" - next time.) The place was packed. We took a cab from the Premium Outlet Mall (the baby needed to get out and get some fresh air after all that time in the casino) and stopped on the way back to the hotel. The cabby was super cool and said that he would stop the meter for 10 minutes, but ended up leaving it off for the entire time it took us to get our food.

I had a great cabby who drove me to the outlet mall (our "party" got separated because I was getting a massage.) Due to bad traffic on the highway he took me on back streets. There were a lot of welding shops, car service shops and other light industrial. I commented, "Well, this is a part of Vegas I haven't been before," then we ran into the strip clubs, "never mind, I have been here before." He laughed.

There was a suite. We stayed at the Four Seasons at Mandalay Bay. Yes, that sounds fabulous (and it was) but the price was right - two nights with the third night free and an upgrade to a suite for $50 - all for less than the price of hotel rooms we have stayed in in Chicago.

There were a few spa visits. That sounds kind of "metro" I am sure, but my visits consisted of two massages and too much time on an elliptical machine. I had the same masseuse both times and both times, she was standing on her toes with her elbow in my glute. I think she may have needed a nap after - she looked a little worn out. (OK any massage therapists out there - when a massage therapist says, "That was great. I could work on you for another hour," is this a compliment? Meaning you can really get in there and don't have to hold back or does it mean I am really messed up? I have gotten that a couple of times.)

We also went to a show. We saw the Cirque du Soleil show "O" at the Bellagio. I really enjoyed it. I am sure there was supposed to be some sort of a "story" but it was lost on me. Once I stopped trying to figure it all out (after about 5 minutes) I just enjoyed the spectacle.

We gambled at Mandalay and the Hard Rock. A thinks she won, but I lost so the family is probably "down" overall. It's not that I am necessarily a "bad" gambler (I did take a couple of questionable hits) I was just getting the shittiest cards. Lots and lots of 2s, 3s, 4s. We were all playing well enough to remain at the tables for a few hours each time we went, so we got our money's worth of fun. All the dealers we had were WAY cooler than I remember them. Except for one - Gary.

What is it with "Gary?" I spent 12 hours in Madison chasing "Gary" around and now in Vegas "old dealer Gary" was hitting on my wife. I wasn't there to witness it having lost and gone to bed earlier, but A and our friend T confirmed it. The first time we met Gary he was pretty entertaining. He told us the story of how a security guard about the size of A came flying into a hog-pile trying to hold down a raging Wesley Snipes and broke his arm like a twig. He also introduced us to another player who joined our table and he turned out to be a bee keeper from northern California. Some comment was made about this guy's hands and he explained that they were dirty and cracked from handling bees and wax and it was probably permanent. Normally that would totally gross me out, but I was kind of fascinated by the fact that the guy was a professional bee keeper. (And I don't drink, so it wasn't an alcohol induced fascination, which I realize makes me sound like even more of a lunatic.)

Having read this post several times I realize that my 67 year old mother had a more exciting time the last time she was in Vegas. I have become a stodgy old poop WAY before my time. Sorry to have bored you all for this long.

Blaaaaaahhhhhh-rrrrrrrgggggghhhhhhh!

2010-01-25T10:40:00.005-06:00

Well, it's that time of year. The time of year when I start to question what the hell I am doing with my life. That, or it's seasonal affective disorder, but I prefer the obsessive navel gazing and questioning the choices in my life because it makes for a better (or sadder or more self-indulgent - definitely self-indulgent) blog post.

Winter seems so ridiculously long at this point. I know! No one is holding a gun to my head keeping me here, but, as I have pointed out before, all my stuff is here and I really hate moving. And when I say "stuff" I am including my wife and kids and dog and my emotional baggage - you know, the "stuff" I have become strangely and strongly attached to.

Come mid-April it will be two years since I was laid off from my full-time job as a commercial interior designer. At this point though, everything gets rounded up, so - it's been two years since I had a job. I have done some other things in the past two years, but seeing as those were short-term and part-time they don't seem to register or count.

A thought just occurred to me - didn't I formulate a plan for the future a number of weeks back? (The same thought probably occurred to you way before it occurred to me and I appreciate you sticking with this post as this is territory we have trampled before.) Yeah, the plan. OK I just need to work the plan. All right - enough of this then.

Injury update

I will have my next PT appt. on Wed. Since my initial appt. I have been doing my exercises and feeling major improvement. I now walk up and down stairs without pain. I rode the trainer for 90 minutes and felt no residual effects later in the day as I had been - my ass still hurts, but that is just my boney butt. I will do a short run this afternoon and see how everything feels after that. This evening I do my exercises again - twice a day, already did them this morning.

This past Saturday I was supposed to run the Frozen Half-marathon (see Steve in a Speedo's report here) but opted to pass so as to not aggravate my injury or my wife or both. It was a very wise decision as the weather was less than ideal - rainy (gross,) cold (miserable) and potentially icy (dangerous - for me anyway.) I am also happy to report that neither my injury nor my wife were aggravated Saturday morning. (My wife may have been aggravated, but no more so than usual. She is married to me after all so a constant level of aggravation is included with this premium package.)

Travel update

This past weekend my lovely wife celebrated her 40th birthday. This weekend we will really celebrate it with a trip to Vegas with two of her college girlfriends, one of their husbands and a 5-month-old baby. I know and love all these people (except the baby - we've never met) so I am looking forward to a good time. I hope to have some pictures and words to prove how much fun we had. And since I am "Sober Cab" nothing is off-limits. Mmwhahahaha.

January - The Perfect Month to F**k Yourself Up

2010-01-20T19:13:00.002-06:00

Not in a good way.

I feel like I'm training like total pro (as in a "pro-fessional triathlete" not as in a "pro-stitute") these days. I have a coach, I had a couple of days with multiple workouts, I am constantly hungry and my leg is fucked up. It seems like January is the month when serious athletes and triathletes get hurt. Just to name a few: Chrissie Wellington has a fucked up hand from falling off her bike on a patch of ice, Lauren Groves has lost the use of both arms after doing an endo in Maui, Beth Shutt is laid up, Erin is laid up, Steve in a Speedo - in pain. Frayed Laces - nursing a sore ITB (but she runs ultras so she should get over it.) Kerrie was "hurt" with a hip flexor that wasn't firing, but I call "bullshit" because she ran a sub-3 hour marathon. (Of course now she claims to not be able to walk so good.) Tasha got a new rack, so her situation is a little different, but I like to acknowledge all the walking wounded out there. Meg - gimping. D - just has "issues." I am not sure they are really "injuries" but I like to include all manner of maladies happening in January. (D - I kid. I am just jealous that you only have to worry about one sport.) I am sure I have forgotten many others who are feeling less than 100%, suffice it to say you are forgotten but not forgotten (whatever, you know what I mean.) So, I must be a "serious triathlete" because I, too, am hurt in the month of January.

Today, I bit that bullet that is healthcare and went to see the doc about my bum ITB/knee/hip. I followed the whole "keep going until it affects your stride, stroke, etc." rule of thumb and this morning at masters I just couldn't take it any more. It hurt to kick and push off the wall and swimming for me has NEVER hurt. (My fly was rocking today though.) I have an appointment with a PT on Friday morning. This will certainly be a new experience. Until then I am on easy spinning, easy running and swimming - as long as it doesn't hurt. I was also supposed to run the Frozen Half Marathon on Saturday, but I will be sitting this one out. It was a "fun" race and I don't need to push it. The weather looks to be questionable with rain/freezing rain a 70% possibility. Why would I want to run in that crap anyway? So, thank you ITB, your discomfort has saved me from different discomfort and misery that would be running in freezing rain.

Let's hope that come February everyone is feeling better and not all sitting around talking about their various aches and pains like a bunch of blue-hairs and gummers at a 24 hour bingo tournament. And let's hope my insurance covers this PT, because that would be more painful than anything my ITB could throw at me.

Preservatives

2010-01-18T12:15:00.004-06:00

On my Facebook page a week ago or so I posted a picture of this great older guy with an awesome sweatshirt. The picture was terrible, but people liked it. Sitting at the coffee shop just now I see the same guy with the same sweatshirt so I asked him if I could take a picture.

He and his wife were awesome! He's 87 and she's 83. I would have never guessed. And they both had great senses of humor. I hope I am that fun and happy with my wife at that age.

"The Procrastinators"

2010-01-14T09:09:00.007-06:00

Here is a picture of our living room taken December 6th.

Pretty.

Here is a picture of our living room taken moments ago.

Pretty sad.

Not much has changed. We have become "The Procrastinators." Since the start of 2010 a whole 14 days ago we haven't done a damn thing that needs to be done. There are five baskets of laundry that we trip over constantly in our bedroom waiting to be folded. And then there are the Christmas decorations.

For someone who talked so much about his dislike for the holidays, I seem to have an incredibly high tolerance for keeping the Christmas decorations around. And it seems like neither A nor I have any urgency to take them all down as A said at dinner, "We should probably take the Christmas tree down one of these days," and I replied, "uh huh," and then we went on to talk about something completely different. So what does this all mean? One of two things - A has adopted a sense of Zen for 2010 or she is medicating - self or prescribed, I am not sure. The only thing I know for sure is that I am down to two pairs of underpants so I better fold that fricking laundry before I completely run out.
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Some completely unrelated items:

The Minnesota Wild beat the Vancouver Canucks 5 -2 last night. Woohoo! Go Wild! (Clever, huh?)

Blog commenter cinthia - please send me an email (go to my profile.) I have a couple of questions for you. Thanks.

I did indeed kill my iPod with my own sweat. How am I so certain? Well, it doesn't work and a little dust of salt crystals puff out around the touch wheel and the edges of the screen when I press on either of them. Today I buy a new iPod and a WATERPROOF case. Damn treadmill running.

New Discoveries

2010-01-11T10:14:00.006-06:00

So, we have moved on from the treadmill updates. It has now become a part of my training regimen. I have even added myself to my wife's "health club" membership so I can run whenever I need to. It all still grosses me out and the list of shit I hate about "health clubs" grows or is reinforced every time I go (many times it is reinforced by stuff I do, but that is neither here nor there.) Anyway.

What "new discoveries" do you speak of, you ask? I have discovered that I am trimming down with all this new activity. I am not really "losing weight" - at least not that I can say for certain because I have a tendency to weigh myself when I am totally dehydrated and that is never accurate. "How are you so sure you are 'trimming down?'" you ask. It has nothing to do with how my clothes fit or comments from other people. You know, let me walk you through my discovery.

At night as I am getting ready to go to bed I probably do the same thing most everyone else does - take off my clothes, put on some pajamas of some sort, take a fist full of pills (whatever is lying around or has colors that match my pajamas) and brush my teeth. (I probably pee somewhere in there, too, followed by very thorough hand washing, but you aren't really interested in that.) I typically just wear pajama pants - I got these really kick-ass ones at Costco for like ten bucks, but I digress. So, as I am brushing my teeth I am staring at myself in the mirror and thinking the usual guy thoughts, "Damn, I really should do some 'manscaping,'" "I can't believe how gray my chest hair is getting," "Is one of my nipples higher than the other?" "Why do I even have nipples?" And as I am lost in my thoughts I start the absentminded old-guy scratching and picking. Inevitably this leads to me swirling a finger around inside my belly button. I usually have some lint that has accumulated throughout the day, so it tends to be a productive endeavor. No one wants a dirty belly button.

On many of these occasions I ponder the risk of sticking my finger too far in and poking a hole in my stomach and then wondering if my guts would spew out like a fountain of strawberry jelly or if I would just start to fly around the room backwards like someone letting the air out of a balloon. But recently I realized that my finger was "bottoming out" a lot sooner than it had in the recent past. I wondered, "Is this true? Is my belly button filling with lint that I have been inadvertently packing in there for years? No, it looks clean. Is my belly button trying to escape? No, that is just silly. Does this mean that my belly button is no longer the deep well of oral hygiene distracted fun it once was?" Keep in mind that as I am pondering all these questions I am still brushing my teeth and my finger is still in my belly button (just in case it is trying to escape.)

Then it hit me. My belly button has not changed! The flabdomen material surrounding it has begun to decrease! I have tested this hypothesis over many evenings and I do believe that I am losing some of that frustrating spare tire (now when I say "spare tire" I am referring to more of a spare road bike tire or, probably more accurately, a mountain bike tire rather than a car tire or a truck tire or, heaven forbid, one of those big dumptruck tires.) It looks like all this activity might be paying off. It might mean I need to buy new clothes again. I hope I can find some kick-ass jeans at Costco.

Finnism

2010-01-11T07:52:00.004-06:00

F: "Dad, will you help me study the challenge spelling words?"
Me: "Sure. Do you need to study the main spelling words, too?"
F: "No. I'm familiar with those."

(Do seven-year-old, 2nd graders talk like this?)

No More, Please!

2010-01-08T18:29:00.008-06:00

Today I hit the treadmill for the second time. Isn't two times in a lifetime more than enough? (And when I say "lifetime" I don't mean "Lifetime" as in "Lifetime Fitness" where I happened to be running on aforementioned treadmill. Although, the less time I can spend at the "health club" known as "Lifetime Fitness" the better.)

Today's run was better. First, I started it at about 11 AM rather than around 5 PM the last time. Second, the club was emptier. Although people still insisted on running right next to me even though there were tons of empty treadmills. Third, and most importantly, the run was shorter. I got new headphones that hook over my ears so they don't fall out, so that helped even more.

As I indicated before, I can't watch TV while I run or while I bike on the trainer. I picked the treadmill that wasn't directly in front of a TV. Here was my view:

I stared at that column for an hour.

At the end of it all I had successfully flung sweat all over the place. Again, why would anyone want to run next to me?

I just left it like that so the next person would know how hard I worked and they would feel inadequate. (No, I didn't. I cleaned up thoroughly.)

Afterward, I was chatting with MS - my fellow IMWI attendee and the person I "used" to get into the "health club." Anywho, she was talking about her coach. He had her do a swim test and lift, which she did while I was running. So, we were talking about what we were each doing and her coach has her quitting drinking, quitting coffee and keeping all sorts of records of her nutrition and all sorts of other "metrics." I told her my coach just gives me killer workouts to do and I do them.

Now we have a "Biggest Loser" type scenario - we are going to see whose coach will punish them the most. (And who is going to see the biggest gains - not in weight, hopefully.) It will be fun to see what happens in the "elimination room."

Going Nowhere

2010-01-06T09:17:00.010-06:00

That is how I felt running on a treadmill for the first time since I started running over two years ago. How did I succumb to such a miserable fate? Well, I just could NOT run for 11 miles at endurance pace in single digit temps on the uneven, icy roads and sidewalks. I have either come to my senses or turned into a pussy (you be the judge.)

Since I hate the "health club" I do not have a membership, but my wife and kids do, so I went as a guest of my wife. Actually, I didn't. A and I had devised a plan where she would work out, then, when she was almost done, she would call me and I would leave the kids locked in their rooms and head to the club where she would welcome me as her guest and then leave shortly after to free the kids from their prisons. I walked in, did not see A, so I kept walking. No one stopped me or asked for a membership card. I looked for A and then sat and watched TV until she showed (it was a couple of minutes and I didn't want her to waste time looking for me - aren't I considerate?)

All the treadmills on the main floor were full but A pointed me to the ones upstairs that are reserved for "personal training." They were completely empty so I picked one in the front row at the very end. (Why is any of this important? It's not really except I thought it would keep me from being surrounded by weirdos.)

I brought my iPod loaded with fast pace house music to help pass the time, a bottle to drink and a Roctane because, hey, I am all about overkill. I started my run. All was going fine. Then I started to sweat. Not many of you, dear reader, have seen me in all my workout glory, but I am what is known as "a heavy sweater."

Not this kind of "heavy sweater."

This kind of "heavy sweater."

But without the glowering look, stubby alligator arms, ravishing good looks and movie "career."

The bouncing up and down of my stride combined with my slippery ear sweat kept making my ear buds fall out. After about a half hour of this nonsense I turned off the music and just gave up. Now I was doomed to hear everything that was going on around me. Of course, soon after I was joined to my right by Snorty-Lung-Biscuit-Coughing-Whistling-Whispering-Guy. Dude! I am like 18 inches from you and you are totally grossing me out! (He became #4,209 on the list of things I hate about "health clubs.")

One of the other reasons I hate the treadmill and the "health club" is that I am always afraid that I will end up being Sweaty-Leering-Guy. I can do a pretty good job of focusing on a distant point and not looking around, but people kept walking into my field of vision and although I was looking through them I am sure the guys thought I was staring at their crotches and the women thought I was leering at their butts. So I had to find a neutral place to look. And I can't watch TV while I run. It makes the time go even slower in my mind.

I stared at a sprinkler head in the ceiling for 45 minutes - altering my gaze only to check mileage and time. Running on a treadmill is DUMB!

To add to my anxiety I didn't realize until too late that I was right in front of the only water fountain in the area. So there I am - I have totally sweat through my shirt and shorts and I am flinging sweat all over the machine and people have to walk by me on a regular basis.

I finished my run, changed quick and the froze my ass off walking to the car. I guess it was better than waterboarding myself with a wet face mask around the lakes for about 90 minutes AND freezing my ass off.

At least I am not Smelly-Wheezy-Fat-and-Creepy Guy. (At least I don't think I am.)

Going Solo

2010-01-05T23:59:00.001-06:00

My runs with other people have become few and far between. Since starting to run with "the guys" after running for a couple of years with "the ladies" I am now running more by myself. It's not that I have don't like "the guys," it's just that things have changed for my training.

First off the weather has changed - it is fucking cold! (There is no other way to describe it.) And it's dark. So, dark and fucking cold are not working for me this year. I have been doing my runs more in the middle of the day so it's not quite as fucking cold and there is some daylight so I can see where I am running so I don't break my ankle on un-shoveled sidewalks and icy snowbanks.

Secondly, now that I have a coach my runs have become longer and more intense because we are on a plan. So for now I run alone.

It's not all bad. I get to run in daylight. I get to see other lone runners, like the woman I saw on Wednesday with mascara running down her cheeks. What woman puts makeup on to go for a run, especially eye makeup when it's single digit temps and your eyes are bound to water? And she was fairly speedy so it didn't seem like she was a novice runner. There are the over-dressed and under-dressed and then there are the people I can't even see because I have icicles on my hat, eyebrows and eyelashes. (As I write this I realize I really hate this time of year - why do I stay? Because I like to talk about the weather.)

Oh, look. It's time for another run. Now where is that snowmobile suit? It looks so good with running shoes.

Catch up

2010-01-05T11:03:00.014-06:00

So, everyone does those end of the year recaps followed by resolutions or goals for the new year. I like to read other people's recaps, but I think mine would just be a bunch of bullshit. Besides (as someone already pointed out) if you read my blog you don't need a recap. And I have kind of listed out my goals already so that would be a bunch of bullshit, too. (In case you didn't realize it, one of my goals is to use as much foul language as possible in every blog post even if it appears that I might have Tourettes when I type, cocksucker bitch whore. Not really, but it sure seems that way.)

I haven't posted much for the last couple of weeks what with my complete and utter dislike of the holidays and with the kids being home from school. Let me catch you up.

We decorated for Christmas and that fucking Empire is everywhere. I am starting to not like those guys.

(F would correct me and point out that that is, in fact, a clone trooper and not actually part of the Empire, yet.)

F had his school Christmas concert. (E's was earlier and I am not sure why we don't have any pictures of her.) Notice his fashionably disheveled look and the way he wears his belt rakishly off to the side. So fashion forward.

Joy of joys! My kids learned to snowboard! Here is E carving on her heel edge (actually she probably fell there, but I like to imagine it as the perfect heel edge turn.)

Here is F also executing a perfect heel edge carve.

My Grommets!

The best part was after their third lesson the three of us went snowboarding together. (I took a refresher lesson and found that I didn't forget much.) I can not remember the last time I had so much fun with my kids. I was so proud of them. We went again the next week and I might lobby for a Colorado vacation next year.

Of course presents were exchanged. Nothing too exciting for the kids or A. (This is my blog so who cares about what they got anyway, right?) I got some cool ones and some strange ones.

Cool Ones

I have to admit this was on my list. I was only half joking when I put it on there, but I was totally excited when I opened it. I haven't put it together yet. I promised the kids they could help. I also need to put all the Christmas decorations away so there will be room on the mantle for it when it's done. (Just kidding, honey!)

(No, I'm not kidding.)

I got this one, too. The funny part about this is that the price sticker already said "Willis Tower." (It was renamed like a month ago.)

I put this one together already. It is prominently displayed on my dresser. (Notice all the people in that post card staring at it in amazement.)

A got me these:

Now the whole family has snowshoes. We are planning to go to my aunt and uncle's cabin sometime this winter so we will have an opportunity to use them.

Strange Ones

WTF!?

I don't think I ever indicated a desire to kill my wife and a "friend" of her's so I am not sure where the idea for these came from. They went back to "fucking Macy's." I hate that place so much I returned them and then was bound and determined (with the kids in tow) to get something else so I wouldn't have to return. I looked for a sweater, a duvet cover, underwear - nothing! Then I decided on this:

Perfect!

There. Now you are all caught up from my last couple of weeks. On to all the new excitement of 2010.

Another Christmas Finnism

2009-12-27T10:39:00.002-06:00

Playing "Christmas Carols ABCs." (This is a car game we play where you name something - in this case, Christmas Carols - that start with each letter of the alphabet.)

A: "A"
E: "Angles We Have Heard on High."
A: "B"
Me: "Baby, It's Cold Outside."
A: "C"
F: "Cram It All In There."

Christmas Finnism

2009-12-25T05:45:00.001-06:00

"I believe in Santa Clause 100 percent. The reindeer - eh - only about 50 percent."

Now, Back to Our Regular Programming

2009-12-18T13:07:00.010-06:00

After taking a detour for a few posts to figure out my life for the next year I am returning to my standard format of discussing things that are really only of interest to me. Somehow I have managed to suck in some of you and you are all kind enough to feign interest and validate my existence.

Before I move completely on from "my life 2010" I ask you to go to the comments section of my previous post and read the anonymous comment "someone" left for me. "Someone" is not very good at hiding their identity and I appreciate that "somebody" took the time and effort to give me a big vote of confidence. "Someone" was under-appreciated in this respect. "Someone else" (me, for the easily confused) is a big dope.

OK - on to the other stuff.

The Holidays Can Suck My Balls

(These balls, not other balls.)

Ugh! I am so over the holidays! They really bring out the absolute worst in people - impatience, ignorance and insensitivity. Today alone I was almost run over twice in two separate parking lots as people raced to get a parking spot. Then, as I was waiting at the grocery store, I overheard a woman, after explaining that she was a ticket agent for Delta Airlines, say, "I know, I have to check in all those stressed out, terrible people." Nice attitude. Maybe if your company wasn't staffed by an inordinately high percentage of insensitive morons and led by a larger group of misfits who, when presented with a problem, can only come up with another fee to charge customers until we will have to pay for every sheet of toilet paper we use, those "terrible people" wouldn't be quite so stressed out. (But I digress.)

Earlier this week as I was again at the grocery store (I spend a lot of time at the grocery store) I see one of the "fabulous" mom's from the kids' school walking across the parking with her groceries being toted behind her by the bag boy (it's a free service to everyone - yes, it's fancy) walk right up to her gigantic EarthFucker 3000 (thanks RR) parked in -- the handicapped spot closest to the entrance. She had no sticker on her license plate and no tag on her mirror and is certainly more than capable of walking the same distance as other "folks." I just hate that.

I have had enough of shopping and I haven't even begun to wrap. Then there are all the people who are going to show up and all the activities we have to do with the kids. I was just settling into a nice routine and now it's all going to be disrupted so I can participate in some over commercialized event that is totally at odds with the true inspiration for "the season."

I just want these next couple of weeks to be over so we can do away with the completely unnecessary stress of shooting for perfection in every way. Doesn't anyone subscribe to my theory of marginal effectiveness? Here's hoping your holidays are marginal.

2010 Is Going To Be "Interesting"

2009-12-17T17:07:00.009-06:00

In my experience "interesting" is never a good thing. And so may go 2010, but it's only one year, right?

First off, I need to thank everyone who commented on my last post. Your encouragement, suggestions and feedback was very much appreciated.

I had a great talk with my sister over coffee today. She had some career planning questions for me which, surprisingly, I was apparently very helpful with. I know, right? "Those who can't do, teach." She also helped me clarify my plan for the year. I am going to make an effort to work the plan I outlined below. I have an idea for my first story, I just have to track the guy down, but I should be able to do that in January. So I am thinking that if I can find a unique event or person every couple of months and then write the story and market it, I will be happy with that.

This leaves me a lot of extra time which I will fill either looking for another job or actually working. What will I be doing? Well at this time I am thinking I would like to find a job working at a running store, bike store or someplace like REI. It might be Starbucks for all I know. I just need to get out of my house. Another opportunity might present itself as an architect friend of mine, recently laid off, and I are going to get together after the first of the year and see if we might want to put a little residential practice together. It's an interesting opportunity as we would be able to keep the overhead super low and we collaborate very well together. We'll see.

So maybe you, my 10's of readers (that might be a little presumptuous,) can make some suggestions of races or events that might be interesting/entertaining. I would like to find some in the Minnesota or Chicago area in the first quarter of 2010 as it will be easier to get to these. When the first few stories are successful (think positive, right?) I will then look at other areas of the country. First I need to make it through the holidays. I really find the whole thing rather tedious and stressful. Just a couple more weeks, I think I can make it.

If you could do anything you want and couldn't fail...

2009-12-15T16:05:00.002-06:00

what would you do?

What kind of a stupid question is that? I hate that question! I hate it more now, because I am posing it to myself in an effort to get the work life moving again.

Then there is this quote: "There's no scarcity of opportunity to make a living at what you love. There's only a scarcity of resolve to make it happen."

So I have been given this unique opportunity to create what I want to do with my life. Being laid off in a really crappy economy does that for you. 2010 is right around the corner and I would like to have a plan laid out for the year. But I am finding ways to hold myself back. A lot of it has to do with fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of disappointing "people", fear of disappointing myself, fear of failure, fear of succeeding. Some of it has to do with heavily ingrained beliefs of what "work" is. Work is something you do in an office, with a boss and a big salary and benefits. Oh, and work isn't necessarily fun. I need to really make a paradigm shift in my thinking (how was that for my use of corporate jargon?)

I also feel like I need to have all the details figured out before I make that first step. The reality of the situation is that if I have all the details worked out, the fun and most interesting parts go out the window. And what if someone thinks this whole idea is dumb? Truth is that someone out there will always think an idea is dumb, like every other idea out there.

In a nutshell here is my idea. I want to travel to endurance events around the country and write feature articles about the people around them. Some I might participate in, some I might just spectate at, but at each I would embed myself with some group of weirdos (basically I am thinking of you, my faithful and misguided reader) and report on the hijinks that ensue. Or don't. Sometimes when nothing happens that can be entertaining, too. You know, in an uncomfortable kind way.

I am not talking about marathons or triathlons, although I am not completely excluding them either. I am talking about events that you might read about in Obscure Sports Quarterly or you might see on ESPN 8: The Ocho (or late at night on Versus.) Events like Muddy Buddy (there is one in Minneapolis in 2010,) Hood to Coast, Ragnar, HURT 100, 24 hours of whatever - see, the lack of detail is what makes it kind of fun. (Suggestions are welcome.)

My premise is that the most colorful and entertaining kinds of lunatics tend to participate and/or follow these ridiculous events. And who doesn't like reading about lunatics. I know I do.

If nothing else I will get some great blog fodder, meet some fun, funny (potentially disturbed and scary) people. And get out of the house once in awhile for the next year.

Even as I write this I am thinking of all sorts of potential hurdles, potholes, dead ends, arguments against, etc. But here's the thing, it would be better than what I am doing now, right?

The Torment that is My Mind

2009-12-15T10:35:00.003-06:00

Yesterday I wrote a post about what I want to do with 2010. After much trepidation I posted it. It was up for maybe a couple of hours and then in a fit of panic I pulled it. I still have it. I just can't figure out what to do with it. It basically outlines what I want to do for fun and profit in 2010. It goes out on a huge limb for me. It's not like I want to suddenly become a doctor or astronaut or a male stripper. I have the necessary skills. It's just out of my ordinary.

Now that I have written and posted this I will be getting encouragement from people, except D who will ridicule me, to post the original, but now everyone's expectations are heightened and that makes me nervous. (See what I mean by the title - my brain is tormenting me.) Or I won't get encouragement from anyone and then what? Or I will get encouragement but you won't really mean it and then what?

Now I just sound like a crazy person. Or more like a crazy person. Or maybe none of this comes as any surprise to anyone - that I am crazy. Enough! In the words of Homer Simpson, "Shut up brain or I'll poke you with a Q-tip."

What to do? What to do?

Return of RMB, Unfortunate or Brilliant Marketing, Necrotized Digit

2009-12-09T17:09:00.015-06:00

This morning we woke up to at least 5" of blowing and drifting snow and single digit temps with below zero windchills. Needless to say, I was not running this morning as I had snowblowing and shoveling to do so the wife and kids could get out of the house. I decided to postpone the run until daylight so I could avoid being killed by a snowplow.

I finally got my run in at 3:30. A and I had gotten all the Christmas shopping done in one go and I was "malled" out. I bundled up, talked to the moms at the bus stop and took off before the monsters got off the bus. The snow had stopped, but it was still windy and cold and the blowing snow was stinging my eyes. It was even more chilly when that wind blew across the lake. Over all the run went well. I was dressed right, no cold feet (never really a problem anyway) and no slipping or falling.

When I got home I was feeling pre-tty happy with myself and how I had dressed. No bare skin, no frostbite. Then I got in the shower. Mmmm, it felt good until I turned around and it hit my ass and it was then I realized that RMB had returned. What is RMB you ask? RMB is when my ass gets cold and red and apparently numb. What does RMB stand for you ask? This:

Red Monkey Butt

This is not a new phenomenon for me. I wrote about it last year as well. Strangely, on almost the same date. This must be the time of year when my ass freezes for the first time.

While A and I were shopping at Targét Boutique in St. Louis Park, MN we were walking down an aisle and I saw this poster:

You will notice that the woman has two cups of cocoa/hot chocolate with a ton of marshmallows. I said to A, "Does that look like she might be a plus-size model?" A pointed.

So apparently Target has decided to perpetuate the stereotype of plus-sized people as chronic over-eaters. Nicely done.

Yesterday, A came home from work and I greeted her with my middle finger:

She freaked out. "OH MY GOD! What happened!? Are you OK?" I responded, "I don't know. It started to get cold and then it turned black and now it's starting to smell a little. Wanna smell it?" A says, "It looks necrotic." That's what I was looking for. It looks like my finger's dead.

Now normally I would milk the sympathy and concern for all it's worth (I don't get much sympathy or concern around the house,) but I am not that big of a jerk. (I am a considerably smaller jerk.) The dog got a hold of a fountain pen and proceeded to chew it to bits on his dog bed. When I went to scoop it up there was a puddle of black ink under it and I jammed my finger into it, thus staining it this lovely black color. Now, it just looks like I have a really dirty middle finger. It was fun while it lasted.

Finally, for some reason F decided he needed to shine a little more light on his dinner tonight. I overheard the following conversation between A and F.

A: "What's with the head lamp at the dinner table?"
F: "So I don't miss a crumb."

You will notice the wonderful dinner of scrambled eggs and bacon I have prepared for my family. Hey, I'm a provider.

Does My Wife Know?

2009-12-07T09:25:00.001-06:00

My wife and I had my birthday dinner last Saturday night and I explained how I was working with a coach named Amy Kloner so she knew; a) that I was planning ahead and would be able to give her advance notice of long run and/or bike days and b) she would recognize Amy's name on my phone and emails and not ask me, "Who is this 'Amy Kloner' person and why is she calling and emailing you and making you cry!?"

I also explained that she was in Atlanta, GA so she wouldn't have to worry about her showing up on our doorstep unannounced and dragging my wining ass for an 18 mile run.

She was surprisingly accepting of my new relationship. (I did leave out the earlier 'transgression' on Facebook. I didn't want to ruin my birthday dinner being punished again for that one. You know how chicks stick together.)