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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words

Today between training sessions (swim and run in the misty rain), I went to the Annenberg Space for Photography in Century City for an exhibit of sports photography (which I highly recommend, btw). Two of the greatest sports photographers of our time had their works on display, Walter Iooss and Neil Leifer. You've seen their work. Ali standing over Liston? Leifer. Jordan's signature free-throw line dunk in the '88 Slam Dunk Contest? Iooss. And the list goes on and on.

As I walked past the gallery of the most famous and memorable sports images of the past 50 years, I couldn't help but wonder what would the image look like when I cross the finish line at the Ironman this coming November. Would I have a look of exuberance like Sandy Koufax when he won the final game of the 1963 World Series against the Yankees? Would I look defeated, like one of the grass-stained, mud-soaked NFL players from the 1960s? Would there be a steely look of focus on my face like Jackie Joyner-Kersee from the 1992 Olympics?

Hopefully we won't see a look of tortured anguish like Mary Decker from the 1984 Olympics.

Then, after thinking about all that, I realized something as I walked back to my car. I was thinking when i finish the Ironman. Not if.

329 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.