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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Ruuuudy...Ruuuudy...Ruuuudy

I fell in love just a little bit more with my favorite movie today.

I was on the trainer for an hour and to kill the time, I called up my DVR list of recorded programs and saw an old friend in the queue.

Rudy.

Perfect.

It was a poignant reminder of a message I will need to keep in my head every day through November 21, 2010: Never give up.

Despite the intensity of the trainer session, highlighted by 30 minutes of HR zone 3 riding in a bigger gear than usual, time flew by. Rudy always gets to me. Yep, I always get weepy at two parts: First, when Rudy shows his dad the acceptance letter to Notre Dame, and second, when Rudy gets knocked on his ass in the Irish football team tryout and then barks at the coaches to give him another shot to bust through the defenders. And does it. Bloodied and battered. But undaunted. Guts and grit personified.

When watching Rudy, I am him, and he is me (bonus points here for the Beatles song and follow-up lyrics). I've had several Rudy-esque experiences over my life, but the most vivid (and closest to the movie) was the one that occurred when I was a member of my ninth grade basketball team. I was cut two years in a row prior on the seventh and eighth grade squads, made the frosh team as the final roster spot but sat on the bench most of the year. However, a small fan club demanding my playing time increase turned into a big fan club, my coach relented a bit, I got more playing time, and bedlam ensued.

To this day, the memories of ninth grade basketball are among the happiest of my life.

The lessons learned from that year are every bit as valuable.

Work hard. Work late. Work early. Put in the time. Dream a little. Enjoy the moment.

Never, ever give up.

Training for the Ironman has been much more than I expected. The commitment, the intensity, the expenses... it's overwhelming. But, this blog (along with the friendships I've made via Valley Coach and the LA Tri Club) has helped me organize my thoughts, keep them in check, learn some perspective, and stay focused on the day-to-day work that goes into becoming an Ironman.

And today, my favorite movie reminded me the most important message of all.

330 days and counting.

Quick Post

It's late. I'm sore. I'm tired.

Long day of training today. It started with a frigid 50-mile Valley Coach group ride from Calabasas to Newbury Park and back. It was so cold that I had to stop at a convenience store to pick up a pair of mittens because I couldn't feel my fingers for the first 15 minutes of the ride! I didn't even care they were ladies mittens so long as they were warm. Which they were. The ride featured some decent climbs, and despite my lower heart-rate zone re-calibrations I was able to lead the pack for most of the major ones. Of course, I'm suffering the consequences as we speak, laid up in bed hardly able to move. My quads are shredded. But I loved every minute of it...for one day, I earned the coveted metaphorical polka-dot jersey on my team.

Following the ride (and a quick shower), I high-tailed it over to Black Dog Yoga for a basic flow session. While the stretching helped, the quads and abs work pushed me over the edge. The rest of the day was spent trying to will my body to finish it without keeling over on the spot. Definitely will feel the weekend workouts for the next couple days.

Fortunately, tomorrow is a recovery day, with weights and a light swim being the only activities of the day. I can handle that.

Wish I had more to offer. I'm just too pooped to think of anything clever.

332 days and counting.

A Christmas Test

For most normal folks, Christmas time means relaxing and celebrating with friends and family.

Guess this is another reason I'm not exactly what you'd call normal.

Today marked the four-week mark of my training with Valley Coach, which means it's a test week to re-calibrate heart rate zones. I checked off running and swimming earlier, so today was about the bike. My favorite.

The assignment was to work my heart-rate up to 153 bpm and then maintain a 90-100 pedal stroke per minute cadence for 20 minutes. Distance, cadence, heart-rate and average speed would all factor into the equation. Of course, the equation became muddied since my ever-finicky speedometer wasn't working. This required using some dreaded (and dreadful) math and my car's odometer to figure out my average speed. I wasn't thrilled with the result, not because of my performance but precisely the opposite...I could've sworn I was moving faster! At least the average 154 bpm was encouraging.

Once I posted my results, Coach Gerardo changed my HR settings ever so slightly lower. I'm curious to see how much of a difference this makes in my training. He reassured me that this isn't a "bad or a good thing", it's more of a statement on where I'm at fitness-wise. I suppose only the next four weeks will tell if I'm making real progress. It's too soon to say right now. With all this training, I really hope so. I'm not quite sure what I'd do if I didn't see any progress for all this time, training and money invested.

Let's hope it doesn't come to that.

The highlight of the morning was once again discovering a new part of SoCal. This time, I explored the nature trails at the Sepulveda Dam in Balboa Park. This was part of a very slow and leisurely 45-minute jog prior to the cycling test. I saw all sorts of birds throughout the run, usually nestled together on small man-made islands on the lake. It almost looked like they, too, were celebrating the holidays in their own quiet way. Peaceful. Calm. Happy. Graceful.

Tomorrow I have the day off from training. I'm not sure how I'll spend the holiday just yet. But there are five NBA games on (including Lakers-Cavs) TV so I'll start there. I also bought groceries to cook myself breakfast, which I haven't done in a long time.

To the people who actually read this blog (and have read this far), I hope you have a terrific holiday. I hope it's filled with family, happiness and harmony. My personal gift will be a day off from training!

335 days and counting.

Merry Christmas to all.

Here Comes Hanukkah!

I finally had a chance to celebrate Hanukkah tonight with my family. It's the last night, so the anticipation had gradually built up all week. As a kid, this was the time where I'd get that one special gift, that one thing that I had been hoping and praying for all season long. The GI Joe hovercraft, for example (man, I coveted that!). In past years, it's closer to underwear and socks as a running joke in the fam, but I always get something I really want or need.

Tonight was no different. My sister and her boyfriend were kind enough to pool their resources and buy me the Surge h20 waterproof headphones and armband combo. As we all know, few things become more repetitive and mind-numbing than lap swimming. At least my rockin' tunes might help shake up the workouts a bit.

My parents apparently have been reading my blog as they bought me a trainer climber for my front wheel and a sweat guard for the head set and frame. And believe me, I really need that! I also received a few shekels toward buying a new watch computer. I'm leaning towards the Garmin 305 at this point. There are some great deals on Amazon.

Maybe the best gift of the night though was the most nostalgic. My parents recently bought a device that records vinyls and converts them to discs or MP3 files. They have a huge collection of records that span from the Beatles and Dylan to Tchaikovsky and in this particular instance, Peter and the Wolf. This story was one of my all-time favorites as a child, so much so that at a Hollywood Bowl live performance with Henry Winkler (The Fonz) serving as narrator, I shouted at him from my seat when he strayed from the script to ad lib. I was 3.

Maybe I can listen to that with the new headphones while doing my pyramid sets on Sunday.

Tomorrow in about nine hours, I've got a casual 2:30-3:30 ride with Valley Coach. Frank Lafuente, my cycling mentor, is joining me. We're riding at 8 a.m. at the Starbucks off Malibu Canyon Road and Agoura Road, if you're local, actually read this blog, and would like to join. We're keeping heart-rate in zone 2 for most of the ride so it should be a nice steady pace.

Happy Hanukkah for me indeed, and I wish the same to all my friends in the virtual world reading this.

340 days and counting.

Meet Frank, My Mentor

Do you have a mentor? Not the work kind, but more like a training mentor? Not like Lance Armstrong (though that would be awesome), but more like someone who makes you just a little bit better every time you train.

For me, that person is Frank (pictured). Funnily enough, I work with Frank as well, and I've learned from him inside the office too. Not just about work either, but about everything from how the brain works to Spanish culture and even the history of the Tour de France, among many other topics.

But this isn't a blog about cubicles, meetings, brainstorming, paradigm shifts or any other corporate-sounding crap.

Frank is a fantastic cyclist. He's had the great fortune of growing his skills in the Swiss Alps as well as Austin, Texas. In other words, the dude can climb. And he's not one of these small, gazelle-like climbers that you see wearing the polka-dot jersey in the Tour de France. (No, I'm not saying you're fat, Frank!) I get a special kick out of watching Frank obliterate unsuspecting (and pompous) cyclists up and down the many hills that dot the Malibu Canyon area. They generally have no idea what just passed them.

Each weekend for almost a year now, I've had the privilege of cycling with Frank. He's taught me how to get the most out of my body during long climbs. He's taught me to recognize when my right foot is pointing inward on my pedal stroke. He's taught me to trust my bike more, too, though that went a little too far this past April when I turned my first road bike into a mountain bike as I flew off the road in Santa Susana Pass in Simi Valley. That wasn't Frank's fault though, as I was trying too hard to keep up with someone with 20 years of cycling experience and didn't have enough understanding or appreciation of physics, gravity and the importance of taking a proper line.

Plus, we all know that there are two kinds of cyclists: Those who have crashed and those who haven't crashed yet.

I rode with Frank today on a leisurely but brisk (56 degrees) and windy (cross-winds nearly the whole way) 2:12 stroll from Northridge to Calabasas and back. Details here: http://www.mapmyride.com/ride/united-states/ca/granada-hills/559126013868457000

I maintained a steady average HR of 129, which was the goal (staying in Zone 2 for at least 50% of the ride). Frank was great about supporting my ride goals and not dropping me, as he can often do. Since I'm a sucker for peer pressure, I really appreciated the assist.

No matter how hard Frank pushes me, he always helps me improve. And no matter how badly he wants to open up the throttle and pedal hard the entire ride, he always holds back and waits for me to catch up.

That's the definition of a teacher. A friend. And a mentor.

***

After my ride, my workout was only half-way complete. I was supposed to swim for 45 minutes at a cadence of 44-45 strokes per minute. I haven't been in a pool for at least two weeks and therefore expected to do much worse.

Turns out that hopping in the pool is kinda like remember how to ride a bicycle.

Despite some general rustiness that might be attributed to ride fatigue or lactic-muscle build-up, the swim was pleasant and rewarding. I typically was in the 43-46 strokes-per-minute range, though I did get down to 39 once by using my legs a lot more. I have a feeling though that's a bad idea come Ironman time. But, I'm sure I'll learn more as I go.

Maybe I need a swimming mentor?

352 days and counting.

It Begins

It is Friday night. It's 10:11 p.m. I'm in my bed, blogging. Most people are getting ready to go out for a night on the town. I'm 35 and not yet married, living 20 minutes from Hollywood. I should probably be doing the same.

Instead, I'm on the verge of sleep so I can get up early tomorrow to run 10-12 miles. After cycling 50 today from Agoura to Malibu by way of Westlake, Newbury Park, and PCH (where the image above was taken by fellow triathlete and all-around fantastic human being, Anat). After cycling 20 yesterday, on Thanksgiving, and cross training with my personal trainer and friend, Shannon, the day before that.

It's all with a bigger goal in mind. One in particular. What business author Tom Peters calls a Big, Hairy, Audacious Goal, or B.H.A.G.

Ironman.

Just typing those words makes my stomach churn just a bit. I was one of the lucky (crazy?) folks able to register for Ironman Arizona 2010 before it sold out in 25 minutes. And since this past Monday at 11 a.m. Pacific time, I've been wondering if I made the right decision.

I thought I was in good shape, until Wednesday night. That's when I met Gerrardo, my new triathlon coach. I've competed in seven triathlons so far, including three Olympic distance events. I typically finish as high as top 10% to 50% of the field. I train six days a week, up to 10-12 hours per week. But Gerrardo indicated that my training will need to increase substantially over the next year, as in closer to 20 hours a week by this summer. And, I'll need a new triathlon bike as well...this after I bought a 2008 Colnago Extreme Power earlier this year thinking it would be the last bike I'd ever have to buy. Fail.

(Nobody told me in advance that this sport is such a money pit!)

Yet I can't get enough. I'm compelled to rise out of bed early each morning to push myself harder than the day before, just by a little bit. But I often do it by myself, running lonely streets, swimming solitary laps and going on long bike rides with a handful of training partners.

That's where I hope you come in. Am I doing this alone? Am I the lone Iron(mad)man out there? Am I the only one wondering every morning "Why the hell am I getting out of a perfectly warm bed to beat myself up before (and sometimes after) work?"

I'm looking forward to chronicling this journey towards Ironman 2010. I want to capture those lonely training sessions, the quiet milestones checked off the list, the tune-up events, the lapses and maybe even a podium finish (or two?). I want to have something tangible at the end of the finish line on November 21, 2010 besides the obvious finishers medal, jersey, photos, etc.

I want to relive the memories one day. I want to show my kids (when I have them!) what can be accomplished if you put your mind, body and spirit into something that seems impossible. A B.H.A.G. I hope I inspire others to accomplish their own big-ass goals. And I want to share the experience with anyone who might be mad enough to come along for the ride.

I'm Ryan Schneider. I'm the Iron(mad)man...in training.

360 days and counting.

PS: I'm waiting for a more official website to be built, so this will be my temporary home until then. I'll keep y'all posted with details. I also have a nifty logo that I'll be sharing shortly, thanks to my buddy and amazing web developer/user experience guru, Ward.