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

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)

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

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!

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

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

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.

T1

• 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.

T2

• 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

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)

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!

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

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."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.