I've MOVED! www.ironmadman.com

My new website is now live

The journey continues there. Please visit me!

But, more important, thanks for your support and encouragement from the very beginning. It will always mean a lot to me.

So Close...

My new website is almost ready! It was supposed to be launched today but it's still propagating across the interwebs as we speak. Can you hear it trickling about?

I'm going to give you the first sneak peek, since you few, kind souls have been hanging out with me since the first blog way back in November.

Point your browser to http://ironmadman.com. And welcome to my new home for the rest of the year!

Of course, the official site will be http://www.ironmadman.com. But it's still pointing to my web designer Ward's company page.

I hope to be blogging from the new location as early as tomorrow.

Let me know what you think. After all, you're my dedicated core and if you don't like the site, then I didn't do my job.

***

Today has been a little screwy with the schedule. I woke up early enough to fit in a 2,450-yard swim at Calabasas Tennis & Swim Center but haven't been able to rally for the bike portion of my workout. The day got away from me, plain and simple.

Now, when I have the time to squeeze a trainer session in, I'm online blogging instead. I have a bike/run brick tomorrow and I'm going to conserve energy for that. Besides, I enjoyed a massage today at work (yep, it's not called one of the Best Places to Work in America for nothing!). Why mess with my peaceful state of being by torturing myself on the trainer for an hour?

I just can't do it tonight.

I'm learning more and more that the only way to fit in my workouts is either to do them in the morning before work or at lunch. Evening workouts and I haven't found a way to get along yet.

For now, the thing that I get along with best at night is sleep, which is where I'll be heading soon.

294 days and counting.

Recovery Day

Perhaps this is an addendum to yesterday's blog, but today I can't help but think about my ability to recover from this weekend's training sessions.

Just a few months ago, the notion of running 15 miles one day, cycling 50 the next and then "recovering" with a five-mile run and one hour of weights training the day after that would make me crawl into a fetal position.

Today, I rather enjoyed it!

What the hell is wrong with me?

The run portion of the workout, which I completed on the treadmill, was pretty tough at first. In fact, it took me about 30 minutes to loosen my legs before I began my 20 minutes of tempo running. Somewhat surprisingly though, I didn't feel the effects from this weekend's training as much during the weightlifting. Certain leg exercises were more difficult than others, but overall, I wasn't overly sore. It may have helped that I lifted immediately after the run, since this afternoon and evening have been filled with meetings, a dentist appointment (filling, ugh!) and a dinner that I'll be en route to shortly.

I'm already looking forward to tomorrow's workouts. I never thought I'd say it, but I'm excited to get back in the pool. It's been four days since I swam, but it feels like longer. I used to hate swimming... now I look forward to it. Weird!

It just goes to show that with enough practice and repetition, your mind and mindset can adapt. Routine, as dull as it may sound, can become sublime. Even invigorating.

Therapeutic? Perhaps.

When I set after my quest for Ironman, I thought triathlon would dramatically expand my physical capabilities. I never expected that the sport would take my psyche along for the ride and give it a tune-up along the way.

295 days and counting.

Becoming 1 With the Bike, 1 With Myself

While cycling through the foothills of Malibu Canyon, I realized I might as well have been riding a tandem bike.

I felt like two people sharing the same body.

There was the groggy, embarrassed and melancholy Ryan who was flustered after being startled awake at 5:30 a.m. by Trudy, arrived to the Fortius group ride (pictured) late, busted his tube while trying to put air in the tire, and established a new Fortius team record for the slowest tire change (14 minutes!). Not to mention that four hours on the bike without much conversation was proving fertile ground to recycle and re-analyze the details of my defunct relationship with my ex-girlfriend.

But there was also the strong, confident and experienced Ryan who is finally mentally getting over the effects of last year's bike crash, seeing dramatic improvements in his fitness and is learning much more about effective pacing and nutrition on long rides.

In fact, today's ride, much like yesterday's run and the swim earlier this week, was perhaps the best cycling I've done yet. I felt strong on hill climbs, my heart rate remained mostly below 150 bpm even on grades as high as 11%, and I surprised myself climbing the fabled "7 Minute Hill" off Mulholland Drive in just over 11 minutes. Coach Gerardo thinks I can hit seven minutes by the time my Ironman rolls around in November. We'll see about that.

Be that as it may, if you were to shuffle all the feelings described above like a deck of cards and scatter them rapidly across the blackjack table randomly, you could gain a glimpse into the frenetic innermost workings of my overly active mind on a crisp, sunny Sunday morning.

They all converged though when I realized the parallels inherent in recovering mentally from a harrowing bike crash and recovering from a tough break-up.

Of course, this exact thought entered my mind as I was hurtling around the corners down "7 Minute Hill" at speeds I haven't attempted in several months. But I was comfortable. I wasn't going for speed, but rather efficiency on holding a line. The speed was just a fortunate byproduct of confidence, more hours on the bike, and a healed psyche. I truly, for the first time ever on a bike, felt like I was One with it.

Corny as it sounds, I truly felt a deeper connection with my bike today. Like my bike would protect me if I trusted it the way the kid trusted the horse in Black Beauty. Or any other movie involving a headstrong kid and a stubborn horse!

I digress. My point though is that healing takes time. This feeling of Oneness didn't happen overnight. Far from it. I've only learned what Oneness actually can feel like by toppling down Santa Susana Pass last April.

Healing, no matter how hard you try, can't be forced. You have to proceed cautiously for a long time. You can't rush healing. It has to happen in baby steps, and a process has to be trusted. You also need people you can lean on for support, people who help you improve and grow. Then, one day when you least expect it, you're "healed." Sure, you remember the pain, the suffering, the anxiety. You never forget it. But you also gather the experience and become better, faster, stronger.

Right now, my relationship scrapes are pretty fresh. No more bleeding, but the bandages are still being changed out. I am up and moving forward, but must accept doing so cautiously. I can't just rocket around the next dating corner automatically. There have to be baby steps first. A process. And, as frustrated as I am about it all, none of this can be forced.

Even though this realization may not change how I feel emotionally, it offers me a framework for dealing with the grief more effectively. For understanding where I'm at, independent of that oft-used DABDA acronym (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance) quoted by the TV psycho-pundits. And what's still in store for me on this windy road ahead.

Strangely, I find that context soothing.

I never imagined that crashing my bike would teach me so much about the importance of getting back on it. Literally, and metaphorically speaking.

297 days and counting.

I See You

I had an "a-ha!" moment in training today. Not necessarily a good one, mind you, but incredibly important nonetheless.

Halfway through my 2.5-hour run around Brentwood/Santa Monica early this morning, I was informed by Coach Gerardo that I have been confusing heart-rate zones. I've been using my bike HR parameters on my runs as well as the bike. That would explain why I've been feeling like I'm going slower than my compatriots during our training runs. I was chaining myself unnecessarily to a much lower beats per minute count (by a factor of nearly 10 bpm).

Oh.

The second half of my run today was much better, needless to say! Now, I think I may have a shot at beating my personal best half-marathon time last year (1:50:10). I'll get the chance to find out next week in Huntington Beach at the Surf City Half-Marathon. Now, I can't wait.

After finishing the 15-mile run and a Governator sighting (driving a red convertible Hummer with Secret Service vehicles in tow), I sped home to get ready for my parents' 40th wedding anniversary lunch. My sister and I were co-hosting, and as the clock ticked down to T-minus 1 hour, I had images of showing up breathless and stinky because of the typically horrendous 405/101 Freeway traffic.

Fortunately, these fears didn't materialize and we had a fantastic afternoon of reminiscing with my parents' friends. The most poignant moment, for me, was my mom's toast to my dad. She actually quoted Avatar, which I'm still wrapping my head around, and the way the N'avi say "I see you" to each other as a way of identifying with the other's soul.

I'm preparing for bed now (big bike ride tomorrow a.m.) after hanging out with my sister and her boyfriend. I'm absolutely sure they will have a terrific life together because they "see" each other clearly.

One day, I will see someone too. And they will see me. But I am honored that I've had relationships where I've clearly "seen" a special someone, and they've seen me too. I look forward to that day again, and am fortunate to have two parents remain together through many ups and downs over the years to show me what that statement really means in the terrestrial world.

Right now though, I'm seeing my bed. And it's seein' me.

Happy Anniversary, mom and dad.

298 days and counting.

The Joy of Blogging

Nothing really happened of note today.

And that is the joy of blogging. I am forced to stop and think about what actually did happen, even if it seems inconsequential. Blogging slows time down at that late hour where an old day ends and a new one begins. It offers an opportunity for reflection where none would otherwise occur -- when the joyful feeling of crawling into bed with cold sheets, warm sweats, and a heavy head is savored just a bit longer thanks to a room illuminated by a solitary laptop.

Since today was an off-day from training, I was able to focus solely on work and non-Ironman pursuits. And I still found time for burgers and beer at the Blue Dog tonight. The highlight of my day was, without doubt, seeing the in-progress version of my pending IronMadMan website. It still has a ways to go, but Ward is doing a fantastic job of bringing my vision to life. I can't wait until I switch over to the new site and we can open up the community further without having to worry about sign-in info. The goal for the re-launch is next week.

I need to power down and call it a night. I have to get up in 6.5 hours for a 2.5 hour run before the beginning of my parents' 40th anniversary party in Westlake.

More to report then.

Wow, i just realized that in another moment, we'll already be out of the 300s on the countdown! I'm kind of sad, actually. Which is completely unexpected. See, I'll never be able to recapture the feeling of being a first-time Ironman-in-training in my first two months of training. I now know what to expect going forward. Yet, the joy of blogging has enabled me to appreciate those two months more deeply. To understand my life a little better and the moments that help define it.

Thank you for sharing it with me.

... 299 days and counting.

Pizza as Performance Enhancer

Pizza, apparently, is my new performance enhancement drug.

Am I a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle?

Pizza is the only way I can explain today's especially strong workouts. I ate up and spit out 2,200 yards in the pool early this morning, reaching all-time bests in cadence (45 strokes per minute!) and consistent sub-T pace (less than 2:05 per 100 yards)

Then, a few hours later, I crushed an hour run on the treadmill with a series of hill sprints at a 5% grade. I was hungry for more by the time the workout was over.

More training. Not pizza.

The night before, I enjoyed a work-related social event where a few of us got together in the studio for pizza and to watch a movie indirectly related to a project we're working on. (Yep, I know there's a few studio fans who read this, hoping for a scoop. Sorry to disappoint, but no clues today!)

Lately, I've been especially conscious of what kinds of nutrition I'm putting into my body. Even after my meeting with the nutritionist a couple weeks ago, who said I could stand to drink a milkshake or two, I've been hesitant. I'm happy with my appearance, and I have an irrational thought that if I let up on the healthy living for a minute... I'll go back to not looking the way I want. (Yes, I am a little concerned about how that last sentence sounds too, but if you saw how I eat throughout the day, you'd put those worries aside!) But, last night was an exception. Pizza sounded too damn good to pass up. So I splurged. A lot.

I figured I'd be sluggish in the pool as a result, but I felt the exact opposite. Light. Fresh. Strong.

And I have pizza to thank.

OK, maybe two months of consistent training and steady diet may have had something to do with my performance, but c'mon, if pizza did wonders for four turtles then I think we know what really happened here today.

300 days and counting.

Putting the Try in Triathlon

Today's workouts were supposed to be low-stress and recovery-driven.

I didn't realize that until after I was done with them, courtesy of a gentle reminder from Coach Gerardo.

The order for the day was yoga in the morning and an optional bike spin whenever I could fit it in. Total workout time would be two hours. Which is a lot during a work week, at least for now.

The only way I could juggle the schedule was to take an intermediate flow yoga class that was beyond my comfort zone at 7 a.m. I actually kept up through most of it and really enjoyed the trance-like experience of repeating multiple sequences (plank, cobra, downward dog, repeat, etc.). There was definitely something hypnotic about a rhythmic series of movements shared with several people, though I overlooked the breathing part more than I should have.

Then, we got to inverted poses. Handstands.

The only thing in my world that should be inverted is Maverick when he's pulling Mach 3 with his hair on fire as Russian MiGs try to shoot him out of the sky. Then, and only then, should something or someone be inverted. But certainly not me. And certainly not after I've recently digested a Cliff Bar and a full water bottle.

Then again, there's an interesting analogy here. I spent about 15 minutes just getting comfortable with the idea of spinning my legs upward against a wall, with my arms supporting the rest of my body weight. I only got close a few times to an actual handstand. Once again though, I realized it's the journey that matters. It's the process of trying. It's dealing with the frustration, the fear of falling, the fear of embarrassment. And pushing past that. Through it. Around it. Over it. Beyond it.

I'm sore from the yoga session, but excited to go again and try to make some progress next time. Like my swimming. Or getting on the bike again after crashing.

The deeper I get into this sport, the more I believe it really should be called try-athlon.

301 days and counting.

Trudy Wins

Can you hear that knocking?

That constant banging noise... you can't hear it?

If you can, that's the sound of my head banging against the desk in my office at home. Because I just lost my housing association appeal against Trudy and Bam-Bam's successful brand of noise-driven psychological warfare.

And General Noriega thought he had it bad.

So it turns out there's this thing called the Fair Housing Act that covers "discrimination" against parents of children in condominiums such as mine, for noise-related cases such as this.

Considering Trudy can make a plausible case that she's not playing loud music, breaking association rules about doing laundry too late or early, or having wild parties into the night, I've got no real recourse. In other words, I'm in an unfortunate, yet unwinnable situation.

I suppose in some twisted way I'm grateful for Trudy. Without this noise issue starting at 5:30 a.m. most days, I'd have less motivation to train. But, since I'm up, why not?

If that's not learning how to see the fucking sunny side of life, I don't know what is.

Speaking of training, I had a solid day. My Monday Malaise was long gone, replaced with a Tenacious Tuesday. I enjoyed an interval "cruise speed" run at Balboa Park for more than an hour early this morning. Of all the times to have a camera with me the past two months, this would have been it. The fog from the man-made lakes and creek beds in the nature preserve contributed to a menacing mist that might have given Stephen King chills. I was literally running through clouds of fog, just waiting for Freddy, Jason or Michael to pounce from the brush.

My workout continued at lunch with an incredible strength session at my work gym. I highly recommend this 45-minute program for anyone trying to get an intense full body workout.

2 sets, 15 reps, all done as supersets:

-- 10 minute warmup w/ treadmill or stationary bike

-- Lat pulldowns, dumbell lunges

-- Pushups, step-ups w/ dumbells

-- Close-grip pull-ups, squats

-- Alternating cable bicep curls, cable rope overhead extensions

-- Dumbell kickbacks, calf raises

-- 4x45 second planks

-- 3x20 medicine ball leg raises

-- 5 minutes of abs work

I lumped the planks and abs work together as another superset due to time issues (gotta do some work at the office, right?). This was by far one of the best workouts I've had in a gym since training with the Shan Clan.

Tomorrow, I've got a rare early morning yoga class and an optional bike spin in the evening. Since I missed a workout on Monday, I'll likely do both.

I'm already excited for the day to begin. What a difference a day makes.

Even if that day starts at 5:30 in the morning thanks to a noisy neighbor.

302 days and counting.

And Then You Have, the Facts of Life

Sometimes, I just have to sit for a while in a quiet place and try to make some sense of the life I live.

Most days, everything makes sense. I set a goal, focus on it, go after it, and after some struggle, I either achieve it or I don't. And then it's on to the next "thing," whether it's a new task, challenge, milestone, relationship, or something else. Challenges motivate me the way Pacman pursues pellets. I want to gobble them up.

On the other days, it's a messy jambalaya of good, bad, hurt, joy, gain and loss. The swirling feelings of conflict and confusion remind me of the lyrics to one of my favorite '80s sitcoms, "Facts of Life":

"You take the good, you take the bad

You take it all and then you have...

The facts of life, the facts of life..."

If I'm staring within myself at a big, heaping bowl of jambalaya, I find that if I can just sit for a bit and try to understand and appreciate the situation -- without trying to fight it -- I might rise above it.

This is one of those days. Though the "rising above" part is always easier said than done.

I'm not going to focus on the "bad" part of the jambalaya today, but rather the reason why I'm writing this blog in the first place: to give my future children (nevermind the lack of a wife or girlfriend at the moment) a blueprint for setting and reaching major goals and, more important, inspiring others to try and do the same.

So far, my father is swimming, my buddy Dustin is embarking on his first triathlon, Corey is trying to eat better, and I just learned that now Anat's father is starting to take walks with his daughter.

Partially because of my story.

The movement is growing! Person by person. Day by day. It grows slowly, but we are building momentum. Something special is starting to happen.

What a feeling!

Helping fuel other people's fires is rekindling my own when my flame runs a little low. Today, my fire was a little dim. I couldn't rally for my morning swim because of a poor night's sleep. I fit in my 45-minute bike ride on the trainer, but the swim was the first workout I've skipped due simply to lack of effort in my two months working with Coach Gerardo.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't beating myself up at all about missing a workout or why, but the process of Ironman training is at least helping me better accept the true meaning that tomorrow is another day. A new opportunity to spit out the bad pieces in the jambalaya. To refocus on the positive. A fresh start. A chance to look forward and not behind. A chance to convince one more person that they can do something beyond their wildest imagination if they want to and are willing to put in the work.

So, I'm going to amend the "Facts of Life" lyrics, for now. I'm going to acknowledge the bad but only take the good. And march forward.

And there you have... my facts of life.

303 days and counting.

Calm Before the Storm

Forget all this triathlon stuff for a second.

I'd like to point out that I correctly predicted the Super Bowl match-ups. That doesn't happen often, even though I listen to sports talk radio during my morning commute and my TV should have the SportsCenter logo burned into the screen by now. So, when I actually get something right like sports picks, I gotta gloat just a little!

OK, now back to our regularly scheduled programming.

I had a "leisurely" brick workout today. Leisurely because there were no Fortius group runs or bike sessions, meaning I could actually try to sleep in a little (which I needed after a fun night out last night at my new favorite local hangout, the Blue Dog Tavern). Today's scheduled included a one-hour running time-trial, followed by a one-hour swim featuring two sets of six 100-yard intervals with descending finish times.

This time, like my Super Bowl picks (last time, I promise), I got the time-trial right. My lactate threshold for the latter 20 minutes of the 30-minute run was 168 bpm, which was 13 beats faster than my TT earlier this week. This time, I ran harder while staying within the limits of zone 4 instead of zone 3.

My reward? New HR zones, courtesy of Coach Gerardo. Not by much, but a couple minor adjustments.

My pace was somewhat troublesome. I ran 9:05-minute miles. I know I'm faster than that and I've run much faster in actual races (anywhere from 7:30-8-minute miles). But, I guess I need to keep trusting this "slower is faster" mantra and believe that in the Surf City Half Marathon in a few weeks I'll be faster. It should be a good test.

The swim was terrific. I didn't feel winded except for the two final 100s at the end of each interval set, when I was trying to reach my 2:05 threshold-pace. I hit them each time, but I was pushing a little to get there. At the end of the workout though, I felt relaxed and refreshed -- comfortable knowing I could go for longer if I needed to.

That's probably the biggest difference my training has made over the past two months. I can tackle more training and not feel nearly as tired, sore or winded the next day.

The rest of the day has been relaxing and leisurely. Though as I lay in bed typing, it seems like I spent a good portion of it racing around town trying to get chores done before for the next series of storms hits Los Angeles on Tuesday. I did laundry, got gas, picked up groceries, paid bills, cleaned my bike... and even managed to watch an entire NFL football game. Believe it or not, I've rarely done that this entire summer, fall and winter, thanks to the training schedule.

Surprisingly, that last part hasn't bothered me really at all. I've noticed something different this year about myself. As I grow older, I've realized that I can either sit at home watching other people do amazing things on television, or I can go out and try to do amazing things myself. And when you realize what amazing feats your body is capable of -- which I firmly believe is true for all of us, watching TV becomes less and less appealing.

Maybe that's why in marketing the coveted 18-34 year-old demographic ends at 34 and not 35.

And with that, I kill the lights and call it a weekend.

304 days and counting.

Chilly Willy TT

It was 43 degrees when Anat and I started our respective time trials this morning in Agoura. Fog hung dense and low over the Agoura/Calabasas pass on the 101 Freeway. The hills off Kanan Drive leading to Malibu were barely visible, their tips just peeking over the foreboding mist that almost dared me to turn around and crawl back into my warm covers.

Come ride time, we each had three layers of clothing, including two pairs of long sleeves.

I am a total weather wuss, in case you didn't know.

It took a little longer than usual to warm up the legs, obviously. But I didn't rush. I felt sluggish during the warm-up phase as we took a practice lap around Westlake Lake. The strength just wasn't there at first, and my quads burned. That was even with spinning at higher than normal cadence (95-plus rpm) to get the motor runnin'.

Fortunately, when the time came to fire it up, I was ready. At first. I rocketed out to a fast sprint, ramping up to nearly 29 mph down the first straightaway.

I'm not gonna lie, I felt rather Lance-ish at that moment.

Then, reality set in. As did my normal pace, for the most part. On my last TT, I didn't have the benefit of a fully functional speedometer or odometer. This time, I was able to do a better job measuring. If the calculations are accurate, I increased in speed by nearly 2 mph, to a few ticks over 20 mph. I traveled just shy of 6.7 miles in 20 minutes, and my average HR was 164 during that span. That's 10 bpm higher than the last TT. This time, I had more traffic to contend with and the weather was colder, but I was definitely able to pedal harder.

We'll see what Coach Gerardo has to say.

After our TT's were completed, Anat and I headed out to Portrero Road via Lake Sherwood for some spin-ups. We did eight intervals at maximum cadence for 30 seconds, each followed by a full cooldown before ramping back up. By the seventh set, I was getting pretty gassed.

On the way home, Fortius friends Christina, Vinnie and Bee-oh Kim, spotted us fueling up at the Sherwood fire station hydrant. Bee-oh is leaving permanently tomorrow for Korea, where he's been recruited to join the Korean national ITU triathlon team. He will be paid, fed and housed to train full-time. I only had the privilege of training with Bee-oh a couple times, but knew he was "special" because he was always so far ahead of the group that Coach Gerardo would tack on extra sets for him of whatever we were doing.

I feel honored to have trained with someone who will likely be an Olympian in 2012 or 2016. He may even get me to cheer for Korea ahead of the US, blasphemous as that sounds.

Now, after a haircut and a failed attempt at a nap (thanks, Trudy and Bam-Bam!), I'm rallying to meet some long-time friends of mine for a reunion dinner. I'm excited.

I will be home in plenty of time to get up early for training tomorrow, so the afternoon and evening is free for the AFC and NFC Championship games.

My predictions? Saints and Colts meet in the Super Bowl.

305 days and counting.

Fat n' Sassy

Considering I eat roughly seven to eight times a day, my stomach is probably spoiled more than most people.

But the past 24 hours have been especially decadent.

Come to think of it, the past two days have been a spoil-fest -- if I throw in my jaw-dropping experience at Equinox!

My meal-athon began last evening with margaritas and tacos at Casa Vega. It was a fantastic way to ring in my weekly day off from training. After a slight dip in the food quality this morning at breakfast thanks to the awful-tasting (but incredibly healthy) Vega products, I was treated to my favorite Indian food restaurant (Salomi, North Hollywood) at work as part of our weekly catered lunches.

(Yes, I realize how lucky I am!)

But tonight the truly best was saved for last: Kiwami, a relatively new sushi restaurant in Studio City located on Ventura Boulevard (aka "Sushi Row"). I've eaten at many sushi joints over the years, even in Tokyo, and now Kiwami ranks among my all-time favorites. The dishes are varied and light, such as a spicy tuna roll wrapped delicately in nearly transparent cucumbers. The meat is prepared deftly and with just the right amount of spice, such as the herb-dusted lamb chops. The fish is fresh, lightly seasoned and allowed by the chefs to simply speak for itself with just the right amount of garnish. Try the sea bass with cherry tomatoes, presented on a small, square cedar plank. But save room for dessert, as the mochi ice cream caps off the meal perfectly, complete with a generous assortment of strawberries, raspberries, orange and pear slices.

Kiwami is an ode to presentation and proper proportions, all neatly contained in a bustling yet relaxed environment. It's easy to understand why, since Kiwami is part of the renown Katsu family of restaurants (Katsuya, Izakaya, etc.).

If you like sushi, and we all should seeing as how healthy it is considering the training we do, Kiwami can't be missed.

My tasty food and drink binge has left me feeling utterly relaxed -- or as my friend and colleague James says, "fat and sassy." I'm definitely looking forward to another weekend of training and excitement. Tomorrow's regimen includes a two-hour bike ride highlighted by a time trial followed by a 30 minute core strength workout. Anat, my dinner partner tonight, is rallying to join on the bike portion of the workout.

We both will be ready to work off our meals!

306 days and counting.

Equinox: Gym of the Gods

There is a spa masquerading as a gymnasium, nay, a Valhalla, where your every possible fitness want and need is catered to.

It is the gym of the gods.

It is called Equinox.

Massage? Check. Lap pool? Check. Spin cycles? Check. Eucalyptus-scented cold towels? Check. Sauna? Check. Kiehl's soap products in the showers? Yep, got that too.

I have never been to a gym quite like Equinox. And I've been to a lot of gyms over the years. Anat is a member there and invited me to join her early this morning since we both had a swim scheduled in our respective training programs.

Equinox is so impressive that 5:30 a.m. actually can't come soon enough should I train there again. The locker rooms are luxurious. The equipment is cutting edge. Attendants leave you towels by the pool deck. And the view at the Westwood facility, located in my old office space when I worked at Porter Novelli, is spectacular.

What a morning! What a workout.

Today's training was actually fairly tame but still productive. I did 45 minutes of cadence-based swimming, and lowered my strokes per minute down to 48 at one point. This was two strokes less than the last time I tried this, though both Anat and I were contemplating whether the lanes felt closer to 20 yards rather than the customary 25. Following the swim, I spun on the stationary bike for another 45 minutes, with five, three-minute intervals in zone 3 heart-rate. Somewhat surprisingly, this drill was harder than expected. I was pretty well spent by the fifth interval.

Once I completed the brick workout, I was almost saddened that it was time to leave for work. The steam room beckoned. A massage too. I couldn't tell if I was at Burke Williams or a gym. The thought crossed my mind to skip work and hang out at Equinox. So, I settled for a shower that was more refreshing than my own at home, complete with cedar-plank floors and all the best soap products.

Yes, I realize how metro sexual I sound right about now.

And I totally don't care. If you've been to Equinox, you know what I'm talkin' 'bout.

Tomorrow is my day off from training. I may just head back to Equinox and try to sneak in. If there's a nap room open at night so I can escape Trudy and Bam-Bam's pounding, I'm checking into the Hotel Equinox, and you better bring a team of ninjas to check me out. Because I'm not going to go quietly.

307 days and counting.

Time Trial Fail

I screwed up today.

I hate screwing up.

It was a time-trial run day; one hour total with 30 minutes of going as hard as my body could sustain consistently. I didn't quite grasp that last point. Instead, I tried to maintain an even pace where I knew I had fuel left in the proverbial tank, and so my heart-rate was at a low zone 4 (154-168 bpm) by the end of the run.

For most of the 30 minutes, I ran at an even pace between 6.0-6.3 mph, and my heart rate was typically in zone 3 (142-154 bpm). I felt great. The run was pretty easy, in fact. I had a lot more fuel left to burn, which I thought was the point going in. Like yesterday's swim trial. I felt so good that I felt guilty there wasn't a second workout today.

I suppose that should have been a sign that something was amiss.

Coach Gerardo wanted me to run harder. He was surprised that my speed was so low and that my heart-rate average for the 20-minute monitored portion was 155 bpm.

Apparently, I screwed up.

Did I mention I hate screwing up?

Now, I'm re-doing my time trial this Sunday. It's like doing homework over again because you screwed up so bad (there's that phrase again!) that the teacher wants you to start from scratch.

Ugh!

The rest of the day matched my mood following that notification. Damp. Dreary. Blah. (You can see for yourself in the image above, my view today from our Burbank-based offices.) And then to top it off, I read my dad's blog post about being average. Arrgh! However, today was momentous in that I celebrated my sixth-year anniversary working at my company. My job is fantastic. It allows me to grow the position the way I deem fit, while growing my career in exciting new ways. It's challenging, rewarding and flat-out fun. And it gives me the opportunity to train for Ironman guilt-free.

In this economy and at this point in my life, I never lose sight of how lucky I am.

Tomorrow, I'm swimming at the crack of dawn again. This time in Westwood at Equinox with my friend Anat. We both have swims planned, so why not do it together, we figured. With this drippy weather, we need all the motivation we can muster to get out of bed so early.

308 days and counting.

Oh-Dark Thirty...

My day started off about as early as I can handle, yet I have plenty of energy to sit awake and type all about it now. That's rare for me. I'm usually exhausted by bedtime. Not tonight.

For a change, I awoke ahead of Bam-Bam, meaning 5:30 a.m. I promised my Fortius teammate and friend, Lisa, that I'd do my swim time trial with her. And I really didn't want to flake. Considering it wasn't raining (yet), I had no excuse.

Surprisingly, swimming smoothly as the sky silently becomes light is a beautiful way to wake up. I think I may do it more often. There's something calming about the teal pool water being lit from below while the sky turns from black, to gray, to purple, to blue. All while the steam from below and fog from above swirl together in a hazy mating ritual.

The time trial itself demonstrated one thing and one thing only: If nothing else, I am consistent in the pool right now. Five weeks ago, I swam 1,000 yards in 20:50. Today, I swam 1,000 yards in 20:50. What are the chances of that happening? Probably pretty good for a guy who knows just when to call California Chicken Cafe in Encino when driving from Burbank to pick up my food just as I walk inside the restaurant. When it comes to timing, I have a tendency to operate like clockwork.

But what does this mean? Why didn't I see improvement in five weeks? Or didn't I? I was able to negative split my swim, so the second 500 yards was faster than the first. This didn't happen my first time, but I was only off by two seconds then. This time, it was a bit more pronounced. Is that progress?

Or is progress measured by feeling comfortable in the water? By feeling strong enough to even consider a negative split at the 500-yard mark?

Is progress measured not in seconds but rather by swimming smarter right now, not harder?

I would like to think so.

The rest of the day and evening has been a blur. More to report than I have time to share. Among the highlights, I had a contractor visit my condo to write an estimate for sound-proofing the ceiling. Wow. For the estimated price of remodeling my kitchen, I can have an insulated condo -- with no full guarantee it will eliminate the noise problem. A sizable noise problem, according to the contractor. Further, I got into a nice, heated confrontation with Trudy via phone because the contractor asked me to inquire if her hardwood floors had cork insulation (they do).

We had what some might call a failure to communicate.

Fortunately, the Fortius group brought me back to my Happy Place(TM). We had a group yoga session tonight at Topham Street Gym. It was nice to see everyone in non-cycling, non-running or non-swimming attire. We looked, well, normal! The session was intense but not overpowering. A good precursor to my time-trial run tomorrow a.m.

After the run, the group went for vegan Vietnamese food in Reseda. I was hesitant at first because after my awful-tasting Vega supplement, I was about finished with this vegan lifestyle. Especially considering that I can pretty much eat whatever I want right now within reason! But, I have to admit that this meal rocked! I ordered udon barbecue "chicken" that tasted outstanding. I have leftovers that I can't wait to dive into tomorrow.

Who knows, maybe I'll even put on a pound by then!

All in all, it was a great day. A busy day. A productive day. An insightful day. A satisfying day spent with friends.

A day I'd like to repeat.

309 days and counting.

Diet Right

Few things cut to the core of my insecurities more than when someone tells me I look too thin, or worse yet, "skinny." It brings me back to my younger days when I was downright bony and didn't feel very attractive or confident.

So, the other night when Anat's mom thought my face looked thin compared to the last time she saw me, I got worried.

"Am I gaunt?"

"Am I over-training?"

"Am I hurting myself?"

"Will ladies think I'm unattractive?"

Yes, these are the thoughts that run through my head like a cable car busted loose off the tracks. I'm almost embarrassed to admit it in a public setting, but if a blog can't be a place for honest, introspective communication then what's the point of writing at all?

Fortunately, I already had arranged a meeting with a nutritionist for tonight to analyze my food intake and how I can enhance my performance.

I'm even more fortunate that my nutritionist, Yasmin, is my next-door neighbor. (No, this is not Trudy and Bam-Bam above me!)

The verdict? When it comes to my nutrition, Yasmin said I'm doing everything, literally everything right. She even asked me if I had met with a nutritionist in the past because she was so surprised.

Nope, I've never met with a nutritionist. But, considering I've taken fitness at least somewhat seriously since I was 18, I suppose nearly 18 years of experience since then qualifies me as knowing how to take good care of myself. The proof? Yasmin thought I was 28 years old, and was shocked to learn I'm 35.

Flattery is a very good business strategy.

Needless to say, I'm quite pleased. I'm consuming the right amount of calories (3,000-3,800), within the correct ratio of proteins, carbohydrates and fats (1/3, 1/3, 1/3) from the right foods and supplements (grains, chicken, greens, fruits, etc.). And if I want to gain a few extra pounds, I can start by drinking a milkshake a week from Mel's Diner, which is practically across the street from me.

Strawberry shake, here I come!

Perhaps the best part of the night though was hanging out with Yasmin and her husband, Tomer, after our meeting. We watched the Lakers game and generally fired up what I hope will become a lasting friendship. Tomer is considering a triathlon and I'm trying to convince him to attempt the Hermosa Day at the Beach sprint triathlon this October. I think it's a fantastic starter event for anyone considering the sport (1/4 mile swim, 10-mile bike, three-mile run).

Now, I'm off to sleep since I need to be up in less than eight hours for a 6 a.m. swim in Calabasas. I promised one of my Fortius teammates, Lisa, that I'd join her for an early session, which will be a threshold-pace test. I'm actually a little nervous! As long as there's no lightning, I'm there.

310 days and counting.

50 Posts...What I've Learned Since Day 1

Wow, I just noticed I've made 50 blog posts.

Thinking back, I've learned a lot in a pretty short amount of time. In fact, in the spirit of all the recent late night talk show drama, here's my Top 10 Things I've Learned About Ironman Training So Far:

10) Pack your car key securely in your runner's belt. Or, it may fall out. Like it did today.

9) Keep a spare car key in your glove compartment. Like I didn't today.

8) Slower eventually equals faster. I can especially see improvement on the bike hill climbs.

7) Kiss Saturdays goodbye. 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. equals training.

6) A 9-hour training week (like what I have this week) is now considered easy!

5) Chlorine is not the latest Calvin Klein cologne. It just seems that way.

4) Swimming in the rain is delightful. Running, on the other hand, is not. Cycling is just plain crazy.

3) Triathlon training is expensive. Golf has nothing on this sport!

2) Training with a group like Fortius makes the hours pass quickly.

1) The long hours and sacrifice are totally worth it... I'm an Ironman addict!

***

Set a new personal best today with an approximate 14-mile run (no footpod to confirm though). The Fortius group ran all up and around Griffith Park just hours before the rain hit the Southland. Prior to meeting up with the group, I went on a 30-minute warmup jog and felt tight after yesterday's brick (go figure). Fortunately, teammate David is a sports massage therapist who runs his own practice. He offered to work on my IT bands for a few minutes and it made a huge difference for the remaining two hours, 15 minutes. If you're looking for a good sports massage, I suggest you give David a try. I will again soon.

The run ended uneventfully, until I realized that somewhere along the trail my car key popped out of my running belt holder. Total fail. Fortunately, Coach Gerardo dropped me off at home after breakfast and my buddy TJ brought me back to the car with my spare key. All's well that ends well.

I was then able to drop off some used shoes at Sports Chalet in support of its Soles 4 Souls effort for Haiti earthquake relief. Sports Chalet is accepting used shoe donations through tomorrow, so hurry over there if you have some extra footwear and want to make a difference.

That's it for now. Layin' low and stayin' dry for the rest of the night.

311 days and counting.

Like Father, Like Son

I can barely find the strength to keep my hands on the keyboard right now.

I survived nearly five hours of cycling, followed by a brief break for a gigantic burrito, followed by 2,200 yards of swimming highlighted by four, 300-yard T-pace sets with 50 yards of kicking...as a recovery drill.

My body temperature is literally elevated right now -- I almost feel like I have a fever -- from burning through 3,000-plus calories.

The good news is that I can clearly see improvement, especially on the bike. Today the Fortius (formerly Valley Coach) group rode through Santa Susana Pass (pictured) near my hometown of Simi Valley. I've ridden that pass several times, usually huffing and puffing up both sides (when I'm not sailing off the road down a 30-foot embankment!). Today was different. I casually strolled up each climb, not feeling heavy in the legs or the lungs. My pace hadn't increased from past climbs, but my cadence rose while my heart-rate dropped.

Ahh, progress. When you're putting in this much time and effort, it's vital to savor the moment when you notice it occurring.

The other highlight of my day was swimming with my dad. The past sentence is one I never anticipated typing. But, you just don't know whose life you'll touch when you're trying to inspire and motivate those around you to "try for a tri."

My dad needs a lot of work in the pool, but he actually looked better than I anticipated. From a fitness standpoint, he's clearly trying too hard to do too much, too fast.

Now I know where I get it from! Chip, meet Block.

I suggested he just spend a lot of time early on getting used to the water. Working on breathing. Relaxing. The fitness will come, and eventually, so will technique.

Let's see if he listens. If he's anything like me, and I think he may be, he'll skip Chapter One and head straight to the back of the book for the toughest problems.

Regardless, I truly enjoyed serving as "coach" for my dad. He would say that I've taught him a lot over the years, but I've never really tried to teach in that direct way. So, this is really the first time I can remember teaching him something new. I'm definitely enjoying it, and the longer drive to get my swim workout in was time well spent.

I started typing that my reward for our swim session was a very nice Italian dinner.

Scratch that.

The memory of the experience will far surpass it.

312 days and counting.

A Nice Friday Surprise

For the first time since Lord-knows-when, I'm writing dates down on an actual paper calendar in my office (they still make these?). Usually, I can keep activities well organized in my head, or there was always the lady reminding me and doing all the social planning anyway.

Times, they are a-changin'.

Almost every night the past few weeks, I've been busy doing something, anything, besides stay home. Been there, done that. I know where that road leads.

And it's been working, little by little. Tonight was supposed to ring in the first weekend with little to no social plans besides training. I was totally OK with that, too. Like a good run at the casino tables that comes to an end, I knew exhausting myself every night with activities had to stop at some point.

Fortunately, my friend Anat came to the rescue. Again. I may have lost someone incredibly special in my ex-girlfriend, but in the process, I've gained one helluva friend. Someone who has single-handedly taken it upon herself to essentially be there whenever, wherever, however. I could not be more grateful and humbled. I am one lucky dude.

Tonight, Anat invited me to join her family and some family friends of theirs for an informal Shabbat dinner at Brent's Deli in Westlake. It was so relaxing and enjoyable. Essentially the whole experience felt like a home away from home. Down to being told my face has gotten thinner the past few months and that I need to eat more! (I'm tryin'! I'm tryin'!) My current food coma indicates Mission Accomplished for the evening.

All in all, it was a fantastic day off from the training regimen. Thanks to a good friend, good company, and good food.

I'm glad my rapidly filling calendar had nothing written in it for tonight.

313 days and counting.

Thursday Night, the New Saturday Night

As you can tell, I take my Ironman training pretty seriously (some would say too seriously). That typically translates to mornings and lunchtimes booked for workouts, with evenings often ending a little early so I have enough energy to renew the cycle the next morning.

Today was no different, as I was on the trainer for an hour and in the gym for half an hour. The workouts were OK. I put in the time and effort but probably could have gone a bit harder on the bike to raise the heart-rate higher.

Through this entire experience though, I'm learning I need one night, at least one night, where I can go out and unwind with a friend or two and not worry about missing a workout the next day.

That night seems to occur every Thursday, since I don't train on Fridays. Tonight was no exception.

Fortunately, I had some added cause to celebrate. I learned today that I earned a pay raise at work, which I wanted to celebrate and savor a little. Of course, since my ex-girlfriend is no longer in the picture, I wasn't sure how to celebrate or with whom. So I took myself out to dinner at my favorite Indian food restaurant, Salomi in North Hollywood (Chicken Makhani 4tw!). It was delicious as usual. From there, I met a career mentor of mine, Joe, for drinks at a club in downtown LA. The drinks were superb and the lengthy conversation was better.

It was just what I needed. A night out. An escape. Something besides the normal routine. Laughter. Reminiscing. And even some inspiration.

It's funny what even just a couple drinks and a leisurely evening out can do for my mental outlook on training. I am excited for my day off from training tomorrow, but am now looking forward to Saturday's long bike ride and swim brick whereas I couldn't say that at the beginning of the day. Even though some might argue that a few drinks might take the edge off, I find that it sharpens my resolve to refocus and re-commit to my training.

But for now, as I type from my bed, the drinks make me sleepy. Which is also an added benefit during this transition period in my life.

Good night, world.

314 days and counting.

Training Saves the Day

Yesterday, my training almost killed me. Literally.

Today, it probably saved me.

I awoke this morning to the soothing sounds of rain splatting downward from the rooftop drains. It was dark, drizzly, and delightfully miserable.

Perfect weather to stay in, rationalize not training, and be a little mopey.

Instead, I donned a hoodie, track pants and my trail runners and took off for Van Nuys-Sherman Oaks park for a damp, muddy one hour, 20-minute training run.

I didn't want to go, I was already warm and comfy inside. But I knew I needed it. Not just the running aspect for my upcoming marathon, but the endorphin rush that came with it.

I didn't sleep well last night. It felt like Phase I of grieving my lost relationship (Denial) had ended and I was spiraling rapidly into a combination Phase II-IV (Anger, Bargaining, Depression) "triple whammy" scenario. Not good. Not healthy.

But, I fought the urge to give in to that dark place. I'd rather fight the rain than the pain, so to speak.

I'm so glad I did. In fact, the sun poked out for a bit about 20 minutes into my slogging/jogging, right after my eight, 20-second hill sprints. It almost felt like a metaphor for me right now in my life... if you accept what appears to be a crappy situation and try to make the best of it, the sun may poke through when you least expect it.

The same thing happened this evening. I had a dentist appointment at 4 p.m. (I need to fill a cavity, dammit!) and found myself with free time around 6. I was at home and could have stayed there, but once again I felt a case of the doldrums closing in. It would have been so easy to sit on the couch and stare at a wall thinking "woe is me!" but I grudgingly rallied and drove to Calabasas to swim 2,800 yards worth of intervals.

Once again, I'm so glad I did. My outlook now is 1,000 times better than when I started fighting traffic on the 101 Freeway to get to the pool. And, I'm physically exhausted, so I should sleep a little better tonight.

In fact, I'm signing off now to go do just that.

315 days and counting.

Beautiful (Dangerous) Day

Trudy and Bam-Bam struck again in the wee hours this morning.

Like at 5:19 a.m., to be precise. Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump! That is what I awoke to this morning, rapid steps pounding across the ceiling directly over my head. It sounded like mortar rounds pounding a concrete bunker. Literally, my walls shook briefly and it wasn't even an earthquake.

So, after cursing the heavens and trying unsuccessfully to fall back asleep, I arose 45 minutes later to start my 1.5 hour bike ride sooner than expected. I was treated to a spectacular sunrise from my balcony.

Seriously, just stare at that for a second and tell me there isn't a G-d.

The ride wasn't too bad either, when I wasn't dodging traffic on Burbank Boulevard once again near Balboa Park. Man, rush hour drivers are the worst! Cyclists seem to be worth 10 points on the Road Kill game scale. I was honked at, cursed, buzzed at close distance... essentially the most hated man on the road!

I get it, but I don't. People are rushing to work and apparently I'm in their way, even if I'm in the bike lane. Like it's some massive inconvenience to move just a few feet over to accommodate my legal right to share the road. Like their boss is going to fire them for being 30 seconds later than normal because some jackass cyclist prevented them from going 65 in a 40 mile-per-hour zone. Geesh!

Still, the ride itself was pleasant (and challenging), for the most part. The task at hand was to ride for an hour and 15 minutes, with 40 of those minutes being non-stop in zone 3 heart-rate (142-154 bpm) in a bigger gear than preferred riding between 80-90 rpm. Whether it was from stress or exercise, I accomplished the mission. I rode 13.3 miles in 40 minutes, with brief stops or slowing included. I essentially averaged 20 mph in a trafficked area, which makes me think I can ride faster than 20, possibly 21-22 mph, consistently at a tempo pace.

I think I'm getting faster!

The ride home was simply harrowing. I need a new route if I'm going to be near Balboa Park past 8:15 a.m. The 405 Freeway overpass at Burbank is insanely busy, and Sepulveda at Ventura Boulevard is just as bad. Not good for cyclists (duh!). I literally started riding on the sidewalk because the streets were jammed with angry motorists.

I love my training, but today felt a bit like I was practically begging to be hit by a car. There's got to be a better place in the Valley to ride hard and fast in the morning without being a target.

Maybe when Trudy and Bam-Bam start knockin', I'll have to get up early to start rockin'.

316 days and counting.

Easy Does It

Today's training session was a little easy, but I'm not complaining.

Fortunately, my friend from high school, Dustin, made my swim much more enjoyable. We met up at the Calabasas Tennis & Swim Center for his second swim since committing to his first triathlon this summer. It makes such a difference knowing there's a buddy in the swim lane next to you waking up early and going through the same training regimen.

My swim was supposed to be a recovery workout. Several long, easy sets with cadence between 45-55 strokes per minute, followed by five-100 yard sprints at 90% capacity with 30-second rest intervals between each 100.

Usually, I'm hitting 48-50 strokes per minute on my cadence. I was consistently 50-52 strokes today, most likely the result of this weekend's thrashing. But my 100 times were improving. I hit 1:53 (probably close to a personal best for me), followed by 2:00, 2:00, 2:03 and 1:59.

The rest of the day was as smooth outside the water as I felt in it. I finished a presentation for a big meeting tomorrow that I now feel well-prepared for, and my team is performing with good energy and focus.

In short, I feel good.

Tomorrow, I've got a power bike ride for an hour and 15 minutes. I need to figure out where I can get that ride in where it's not too busy at 7:30 a.m. Candidates at this point are Balboa Park, Balboa/Rinaldi/Valley Circle, San Fernando Road, or San Vicente in Brentwood.

But for now, I'm going to bask in being caught up with my personal business, my work business, and my training business. A whole hour of free time! What to do... what to do.

I stayed true to my vow in yoga yesterday...take it easy. And, so far, easy indeed does it.

317 days and counting.

Progress!

The Valley Coach group met this morning at 8 at the Cheseboro Park in Old Agoura, the site of my first trail run.

The first time I ran it this past November, my IT bands were bothering me around the 12th mile, I had succumbed to peer pressure by running more than I was assigned to, and I ultimately regretted it all day with soreness. In short, not a very fun run.

Not this time.

Decked out in my new Asics 2140GT trail runners and Amphipod running belt, I was ready to run. Perhaps part of the eagerness stemmed from the large contingent of Valley Coach athletes, LA Tri Clubbers and friends of the group who showed up. The energy level was high, as were the jokes and smiles. Even if it was chilly by my own weather-wuss standards, it was a great way to start the day.

The run itself was even more pleasant than expected. What I mean is that after last Sunday's depressing solo jog, I've concluded it's far more fun to chat with friends throughout the duration of the run. Keeps me from thinking about the run itself, or anything else remotely negative. Today, I got to know Lisa (now in her seventh triathlon season) and Paul (a former producer at Electronic Arts responsible for NBA Street, one of my favorite PlayStation 2 games).

Of course, it was still hard to watch most of the runners take off ahead of me from the start. Fortunately, Gerardo's brother Ray stayed with me and kept me company. I'm still confined to zones 1-2 on flat ground and zone 3 heart-rate on the hills, although I'm not sure it would have made much of a difference. Still, I know I'm hitting my goals from Coach Gerardo's workout plan. And I earned some validation from Christina, who said I should be stoked on my weekend performance considering I essentially cycled 60 miles and swam nearly two miles back-to-back, and followed that up today with what was probably at least a 13-mile run. She thinks I could be ready for an Ironman in four months if I wanted to, but that I'll be in spectacular shape by Ironman Arizona. Considering she's done two Ironmans, that praise was very flattering and encouraging.

As the run concluded, I realized that I hadn't bonked, my legs weren't tight or in pain, and that I was still hydrated (for the most part).

Progress! I felt much better than just a month or so ago doing the same run. What a feeling of accomplishment.

After the run, I had my bike tuned up at Bicycle John's in Agoura. If you are local and looking for a great cycling shop, Bicycle John's is my favorite. The staff is knowledgeable and friendly without being pushy. The shop has a nice frequent buyer's plan so you can earn discounts along the way, and the selection of parts, bikes and apparel is first-rate.

From there, I caught up with one of my closest friends, TJ, who was back in town from his Florida vacation. It was nice to reconnect again after two weeks.

Finally, the weekend wound down in what I think will become a new tradition: a "restorative yoga" session at Black Dog Yoga. If you haven't taken a restorative yoga class, especially on a Sunday night, it's the perfect way to segue from the weekend into the week ahead. Most of the poses are relaxing stretches held for long periods of time. The intensity is low, but the relaxation factor is very high, enhanced with aromatherapy oils by request.

The best part of the class is focusing on your inner intention for the moment, and if you'd like, the week ahead. I vowed to take it easy this week on myself in terms of letting go some of the angst from my last relationship, and to take it easy on others should I find my patience running low.

I will try to carry that intention out.

318 days and counting. Namaste.

The 3,100 Yard Stare

To give you an idea of how I felt at the end of my bike/swim workout today, I sat in a chair in the pool locker room with my legs elevated, eating an apple, staring at a wall. Watching my calves twitch and shake like each had its own distinct heart beat.

For 15 minutes.

I couldn't move. Frozen. Dazed. Exhausted. I had that "1,000 yard stare" that comes with shell shock.

Like the EAS sports drink ad, "Now I'm done."

Boy, was I ever.

Before the hour and a half of swimming featuring 1,600 yards of threshold-pace intervals, the Valley Coach group rode for four hours, tallying 3,500 feet of climbing and 58.6 miles -- including a brief stop to say hello to the local Lake Sherwood goose population. The bike ride equated to 2012 calories for me.

That was before the swim.

After a brief lunch break with fitness stud Vinnie Tortorich and his charming family, it was off to the pool. Then, what seemed like the longest swim workout ever ensued (because it was for me, by 300 yards, a personal record). It took a lot of willpower not to throw in the towel, so to speak, and end the workout early. My shoulders ached. My stomach was tight. I had forgotten workout details because I forgot to review the plan on my email beforehand.

But, with some improvisation, I finished the workout. Both of them. Brick complete.

The reward? Staying home on a Saturday night. My first weekend night alone without plans since my breakup. Fortunately, there's a lot to do around here. I've neglected all sorts of household chores, so tonight is as good a night as any to get them done.

I'm surprised at how mellow I've been about the breakup. And it's not like I haven't had plenty of time alone to dwell on it. I keep waiting for the big depression to set in. The wallowing. The misery. The anguish. The self-torture.

It hasn't happened. I can't tell if I'm too tired to make a fuss, or if I'm at peace with the whole thing, or still surprised that it's all over. Maybe it's a bit of everything. Either way, I'm moving forward. I'm actually kinda proud of myself so far.

Whether it's been on the road, in the pool or in my own head-space, I haven't quit on myself. I hope I can continue to remain that strong.

Tell ya what though, I guarantee that when I hit the bed tonight it will be with a peaceful thud.

Now I'm done.

319 days and counting.

Friday, the New Sunday

Ahhh, I remember those leisurely weekends when I could do whatever I wanted. All day. Sleep in? No problem! Take a road trip? Let's go!

And then along came Ironman training. Six days a week of training, so far up to 15 hours per week. And rising.

Except on Fridays. My day off from training. My day of do-whatever-the-heck-I-want (except eat junk or drink too much!).

When I'm not working at the office, that is.

Even with working a full day, it still feels like a day off. It's the serenity of knowing I don't have to put in a few hours of training, squeezing it in between work and having a life. It's not that I don't enjoy the training (I do), but the stress of fitting it all in and meeting my assigned hours is what gets to me. So, on one day each week, I don't have to worry about that. I like that day a lot.

Tonight, I am spending my free time with my parents. They made me dinner (and dessert) and I'm picking my car up from my father's automotive repair shop, located in Simi Valley.

I feel spoiled. And I'm not complaining one bit. Homemade chicken with cous-cous, homemade split pea soup, and my personal weakness, My-T-Fine chocolate pudding.

I don't care what kind of training regimen I'm on, you will NOT separate me from my chocolate pudding. Period. Don't mess with my puddin'!

Of course, the conversation and relaxation with my folks is the best part. I realize how lucky I am to be able to have a close relationship with my family. We're not a perfect family, not by any stretch. But we are a tight-knit one.

I'm currently watching my dad try to play one of the video games my company develops, Ratchet & Clank Future: A Crack in Time. It's an exercise in joy and frustration. He's enraptured in the universe and deriving a great deal of joy from the experience even though his character is dying more than a zombie on Groundhog Day. Yet he keeps trying. Very rarely getting frustrated, finding excitement and insight with every new opportunity to make progress in the game.

I never thought I'd be inspired by my dad playing a PS3 game, but here I am realizing that's just what's happening. He's slogging through a new experience, one that he's admittedly not the best at. He's not giving up. He's still laughing. Still learning. Still finding the fun.

Even though my dad is the one progressing through the game, I'm the one who experienced the payoff tonight.

320 days and counting, but now I'm actually looking forward to 319.

"He is Beginning to Believe..."

There's a scene in the original "The Matrix" where Neo realizes what he's capable of doing with his mind. It's at that point when his mentor, Morpheus, says, "He is beginning to believe."

That's sort of how I feel about my training right now.

Not that I'm "The One" like Neo. Far from it. What I mean is that after a long workout today of swimming 2,800 yards worth of intervals followed by sprints and heart-rate zone 3 running, I can notice I'm performing better and recovering a little quicker. That's with an increase in swim distance and length while adding some intensity to the run workouts.

I'm beginning to believe that by the time Ironman Arizona rolls around, I will be in better shape and better prepared than I can possibly imagine right now. That's very, very exciting.

It's like knowing I'm about to learn a bunch of kick-ass new powers if I just free my mind, so to speak. I am ready to do that.

I also did today's workout as a brick since I took the day off from work. My buddy Frank offered me his extra ticket to the BCS title game between Texas (he's a UT alum) and Alabama at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena.

Yes, the same Frank whom I accidentally let a refrigerator slam into his shoulder when we were moving it to his new home. Who's still forced to wear a sling and can't cycle for several weeks.

I'm glad he doesn't hold grudges!

Despite the injury to quarterback Colt McCoy early in the game, Texas fought hard throughout in their 37-21 loss to the Crimson Tide. I was especially impressed with the Longhorns' backup QB, Garrett Gilbert. He's a true freshman and was thrust into the biggest game of his life having only thrown 26 passes his entire college career. It took him a while to believe too (probably the entire first half), but eventually Gilbert got into a rhythm and kept the game closer than it should have been.

Look out for this kid in a couple years. I think he'll be something special.

Of course, as I prepare for bedtime, I checked my upcoming training schedule for the weekend. Just when I'm beginning to believe I'm about to head to that proverbial next level of fitness, that I'm getting the hang of this training regimen...the plan changes. Doesn't it always?

After my day off from training tomorrow (Friday is my new favorite day of the week!), Saturday will feature a four-hour bike ride through the Calabasas-Oak Park area followed by 3,100 yards of tempo-training swim intervals.

Ugh.

Now, I feel like Neo as he leaps off the building thinking he can make it to the other side... only to fall flat on his face on the ground.

Guess that's the only way to get better, right?

Neo dusted himself off and tried again eventually. So will I.

Texas dusted itself off after losing Colt McCoy and fought hard against 'Bama. So will I.

321 days and counting.

OMG I'm Hungry!

The workout checklist today consisted of hill climbs on my trainer and a fairly intense 45-minute weights workout.

Ate 'em up, spit 'em out.

And had some fuel to spare.

Granted, I was hungry all day. Nothing could shake my appetite, and that was after a foot-long Subway sub (teriyaki chicken and sweet onion on wheat bread) and pound Baja Fresh burrito the night before. Seriously, here's what I ate today... and it was barely enough to suppress my hunger!

-- Banana

(workout)

-- Oatmeal w/ raisins and almonds

-- Recoveride drink and Endurolytes

-- Apple

-- Peanuts

-- Balance bar

(workout)

-- 3 pieces of Chicken, peas and zucchini

-- Vega protein drink (blech!)

-- Wheat English muffin and peanut butter

-- Another banana

-- Lamb chops, pasta, salad and green beans

-- Chocolate yogurt

And, yeah, I could probably eat right now before bedtime.

'Sup with that?

Some days I'm just not that hungry. Other days, I've got a monster appetite. The past few days have been the latter. Yet my weight hasn't changed. Sometimes I wonder if one of these mornings I'm going to wake up and look like Ryan Reynolds in that fat suit from that silly-looking romance comedy movie I never saw... you know, that one? Like all this eating is going to catch up with me. And to be honest, it kinda freaks me out just a little.

But not today. I was just too damn hungry to care.

***

Overall, today was another busy day. Lots of running from meeting to meeting, and a commute to Simi Valley to drop my car off with my parents (my family has owned an automotive repair facility for 30 years). I must admit, the increased quality time with my parents has been a welcome addition lately. It's nice to have that kind of support during tough times.

After being gone since 9 this morning, I literally walked in the door 15 minutes ago. I'm so exhausted that I can barely see straight.

Not one of my better blogs. But, tomorrow's another day.

And that's a good thing.

322 days and counting.

A Fun Day's Night

It's 11 p.m. Usually, I'm exhausted and sleeping already.

Not tonight! It's been a really good day, which started with a rather harrowing (and chilly!) bike ride through Balboa Park (so much for my new "Wind Stopper" Castelli full-fingered gloves). I had a tempo ride for an hour, with a larger gear than normal while maintaining 80-90 cadence. The tempo wasn't the problem, but traffic was. The hardest part of the ride was avoiding cars and trucks mindlessly rushing to work, and slowing down while trying to keep my heart-rate in zone 3 (142-154 bpm). I may need to find a new tempo cycling route, so if someone reading this knows of anything, holla.

Then, I became one of those rushing vehicles on the way to work, barely making it on time. The work day went by quickly, highlighted by my first team meeting of the year. I can honestly say it was fantastic having the group together again, and we collectively enjoyed a productive goal-setting session. I can't wait to get movin' on what we have in store for this year, which truly felt like a collaborative effort. It's especially invigorating when everyone buys into your vision and is excited by it.

Following work, I rushed from Burbank to Venice for a seminar about vegan nutrition and the importance of a plant-based diet when training for endurance events.

On the way, I annihilated a Baja Fresh "Burrito Mexicano"... with lots of chicken.

It was delicious.

The seminar, by pro triathlete and author Brendan Brazier (known for his book, Thrive: The Vegan Nutrition Guide), was primarily about dismissing the notion that "calories out, calories in" is an effective way to replenish nutrients. It can have the opposite effect, Brazier notes, because some foods take longer to process, can elevate stress and force your body to work even harder than it needs.

Enter Brazier's own unique line of vegan-based supplements, Vega. He says they can reduce recovery time between workouts, which is the key to increasing training results.

Like a sucker, I bought a protein powder and Omega-3 oil supplement.

Heck, I'll try anything once. It couldn't be any less effective than the remaining unused bottles of Seven-Plus I bought last year from a high school friend. (Ahh, Acai berry, you are so 2009.)

After the seminar and hanging out with my Valley Coach buddies, I rushed over to my friend Anat's nearby for a post-dinner chat. It was so nice catching up, unwinding and relaxing, and not feeling guilty for having to be elsewhere, checking in, etc.

In short, this was my kind of day. Frenetic, but not chaotic. Busy, but manageable. Scheduled, but flexible. Purposeful. Inspired.

So, this is what being single is like?

Huh.

323 days and counting.

The Little Things

A lot happened today. First day back at work in two-plus weeks. A new employee on my team started his first day. Frank showed up in a sling from the New Year's Eve refrigerator-moving debacle. Fit two workouts in (swim and weights). Busy, busy, busy.

But the best thing to happen was hearing that a friend I've known since high school, Dustin, is signing up for his first triathlon this year. And it's partially because of what I've been doing the past few years in the sport.

It may seem like a little thing to some people, but for me, the idea that maybe what I'm doing is inspiring someone else to dream big and act upon it...that's huge. It's flattering. It's exciting.

It's just what I needed.

I'm not feeling that inspirational these days, so knowing that perhaps I've had a positive effect on someone else's life right now is invigorating.

Dustin is going to do the Breath of Life sprint triathlon in Ventura this June. I will be there, either participating or cheering him on. I'm so excited for Dustin and the journey he is about to go on. I hope he gets out of triathlon training what I've been fortunate enough to experience for myself. I will definitely be supportive every step of the way.

It may be selfish to say, but Dustin's first triathlon may be as meaningful for me as it will be for him.

Hey, maybe we can get some other first-timers out there in Ventura this June?

Spread the word. And sign up: http://www.triforlife.com/

324 days and counting.

Running With, Within Myself

After talking about my inspirational and fun training partners and how much I look forward to our group training sessions, I flaked this morning because I needed a little more sleep.

(It's amazing what how one glass of wine can affect me with all this working out!)

So, I ended up doing my long run alone, all two hours and 20 minutes of it. The course: Nike run at Mulholland Drive and Encino Hills Road.

That's a lot of time to spend by yourself a couple days after a break-up, even if you've got a sweet iPod workout mix (which, I do, thank you very much).

I noticed two parallel paths on this run, the goal of staying within zone 3 on the heart rate even on hills (no more than 154 bpm), and my ability to have a one-track mind analyzing this failed relationship.

When you run by yourself, you can sometimes be your own worst training partner. "What if...?" "Why did I...?" "Why didn't she...?" "Why couldn't they...?"

Why, why, why. It doesn't matter that it doesn't matter, the questions persist.

Meanwhile, calmly, analytically, I'm scanning my heart rate watch. Ensuring I keep my pulse in check. Doing so clinically, as if I'm two different people. The athlete: Steely. Resolute. Focused. The man: Sad. Remorseful. Dazed.

It's a bizarre feeling straddling both sides of my persona. Ironic, I suppose, that my recovery is literally in motion. Step-by-step. Hill-by-hill. And when I can't run any more, just like in life, I stop, take a break, gather myself, breathe...and start running again.

***

Today was a "me" day in other ways. It was my last day off before returning to work tomorrow. This break went by so fast, for obvious reasons and because I did actually enjoy most of it. But the holiday break needed to be sent off in style. So, after breakfast at my favorite local spot (Jinky's) and a relaxing yoga session at Black Dog (except for the farter next to me...namanasty!), I went wild. How did I celebrate?

Wait for it...

An hour massage. Impressed? Yeah, I thought so.

There is a lot to be said for getting a massage when you're stressed out, worn down and beat up. I didn't realize how much I needed that massage until I could barely get off the table at the end.

For those of you who are local to Sherman Oaks, Massage Envy on Ventura Boulevard at Cedros Street is the real deal. Ask for Brianna.

And now, after dinner at the Counter with my family and visiting some friends in Santa Monica, I'm settling in for the night.

Exhausted.

Wondering how tomorrow will turn out.

325 days and counting.

Slow and Easy Does It

I felt like I sucked during my bike ride today.

The joy of heart-rate training.

I rode with a group or cyclists associated with Bicycle John's in Agoura. In the past, I kept up fine with them, to the point where I felt almost like I was too fast for the group.

Not today.

The goal was to ride long hills for two hours with less than maximum effort, staying in my saddle most of the time, and keeping my heart rate under 168 bpm.

On the positive side, I was able to handle every one of those challenges. In fact, my heart rate only briefly peaked at 161 going up the Rock Store grade off Kanan Road. Typically, I was around 157, which was pretty good.

The tough part was watching the same group of cyclists whom I've kept up with in the past blow completely by me on their way up the hill. I couldn't help but wonder whether all this training is making me slower. It was hard to swallow, especially on a day where I just wanted to ride hard and blow off some steam.

Then, I swam intervals for an hour after the bike ride concluded.

I wonder how many of those cyclists could have done the same thing.

Then again, maybe I'm the only one crazy enough to even try it!

326 days and counting.