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.

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.

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.