Ah, July 4th Weekend!

July 4^th weekend used to be simple; barbeque, fireworks, swimming and a little time to relax.  This year, my world is more complex, and so too, as July 4^th weekend approaches, I have decisions I have to make as to which traditions I keep, which I modify and what additional activities I will engage in.  I’ll start from the top.

Barbeque:  I love BBQ.  I love chicken, hot dogs, burgers, steak, corn… and I have barely gotten started.  If I ate just one of each of the items I just mentioned, I would put on 5 – 6 pounds in one day, or 10 – 12 pounds for the weekend (yup, I am all about the double-Q on the 4^th).  I haven’t even touched on beverages.  Here is the plan: load up on salad, go for the chicken first, followed by half portions of steak and burgers (no buns!) and do my best to stay away from the hot dogs, and drink A LOT of water.

Fireworks:  Fireworks are a go!  I received an invite to a rooftop party (with food) to watch the fireworks in NYC.  I plan on going there with a piece of duct tape across my mouth – no snacking allowed.

Swimming:  This year’s swim will have to be a good amount more aggressive than swims in years past.  So, this is sort of a modification of an old tradition.  I don’t think I ever swam .5 miles – 1 mile on July 4^th weekend, in the past, it was more like .5 laps – 1 lap.

Relaxing:  Relaxation time on July 4^th weekend has diminished over the years, especially as we have had children.  This year, I think that my weekend relaxation will probably look a lot more like conking out.  I’ll be discussing my training plans for this weekend next, but needless to say, afterwards, I will probably be ready to fall on my face and sleep.  So, this year, I probably won’t be relaxing as much as recovering.  But hey, the eyes will be closed, so that is a start.

New Additions to July 4^th Weekend:  Sunday morning, I have TNT training with a mandatory bike/run (1:15 hour bike and then a :25 - :50 minute run!).  Monday morning, at 6:30am, I am planning on going on a 25 mile bike ride.  Why am I spending my weekend this way?  I have no clue, but I plan on doing it (I am going to fit swimming in here some time, too).

Do you have great plans?  Put them in the comments section – I want to hear what you are doing, so that I can daydream about your great plans while I am on my 25 mile bike ride.

Do you have horrible plans or no plans at all?  Put them in the comments section – I want to hear what you are doing, so that I can feel better about my weekend as I pedal along on my 25 mile bike ride.

No matter what you are doing, have a happy, healthy, fun and safe July 4^th weekend!

Out of the Closet

This triathlon has forced me to take a long look in the mirror, to search the depths of my soul, and through this process I have altered the fabric of the person that I am – and I will never be the same.
 

“Watch out for chafing.” – Martin Hartley.

While I have received a number of words of encouragement from donors on my Team in Training (TNT) personal web page, there may be no more caring, nor truer words written than those above from Martin Hartley.  After heat stroke and dehydration, chafing and blistering are the two of the greatest dangers to triathletes (getting hit by a car or drowning, along with other catastrophic dangers exist, too, but they are among the more unlikely dangers and those dangers were also present in my day-to-day life before I started training for a triathlon).  TNT leadership does a great job of educating us about appropriate hydration, and though blistering is a serious threat (see my “Princess and the Pea” post) it can be mitigated with a good pair of sneakers and socks.

Chafing, on the other hand, is subtle danger, creeping up on you silently and painfully.  Chafing can occur anywhere that skin makes contact with, well, anything else.  Thighs, arms, chest… you name the place and chafing can occur, much to your chagrin and to the delight of your dermatologist.  The more you exercise and the more you sweat, the better the chances that you will experience the enjoyment of raw, enflamed, chafed skin.  In addition, when you ride a bike for a long time, there are other causes and locales where chafing can occur, sometimes known as saddle-sore) namely where one’s rear end and thighs make contact with the bicycle seat.

I have learned that the first line of defense to chafing is wearing the right clothing.  Immediately, upon beginning training for the triathlon, I switched from cotton shirts to moisture-wicking shirts and I wear running (low or no-cotton content) socks, only.  Sure, these shirts and socks retain the smell of sweat more than breathable cotton, but this is a necessary sacrifice (on my family’s part).  Those changes were easy to make, since I have been using moisture-wicking shirts and socks on and off, prior to starting training.  However, there was one major change that I have made in my life that is evidence of my evolution as a person, as a result of this triathlon.

Ever since I hit puberty, and had the autonomy to choose my own clothing, I have been a hetero-shortsicle.  While I have worn a variety of types of shorts, be they basketball shorts or board shorts, my shorts would always fall into the category of long, baggy shorts.  I have been firmly committed to that way of life.  I also have to admit to looking down on others who chose a different way of life.  I hated short-shorts (like running shorts) and was baffled by people who wore them.  Jean shorts were an obvious sign of character weakness, in my eyes.  However, I reserved my truest and deepest disgust for those who I truly could not understand, nor fathom, the nature of their shorts decisions.  My true wrath was reserved for male spandex-wearers, specifically men who wore bicycle shorts.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I was alright with spandex that was hidden under baggy shorts, as was popular in the NBA in the mid 90’s.  As long as you hid your affinity for spandex, so the world was exposed to your basketball shorts, I was cool with it.  I even forgave those who intimated their affinity for spandex, letting it peak out under their basketball shorts, like Kenny “Sky” Walker, of the New York Knicks.  If you were a spandex-wearing man, that was fine, just keep it in the closet, or at least under your basketball shorts.

So, when I told my wife that I was signing up for the triathlon, she laughed at me, saying that she couldn’t wait to see me in spandex.  I responded that she would see me in them on race-day and no sooner.  I knew that I was a hetero-shortsicle and I would stray from the one true path ONLY if forced.

After my first 15-mile bicycle ride, I knew that I had some soul-searching to do.  I had to explore the person that I had been for the past 21 years to see whether I had made a major mistake.  What was my motivation for this self-questioning?  Chafing.  My heart told me that I needed to explore my true needs, but my mind told me that I needed to stick to the dogma that I knew to be true.  I was able to hold my heart at bay for a while, but after I got back from my second 15-mile bicycle ride I knew that I needed to go beyond the boundaries within which I had been living in my entire life.

I knew my life had changed sometime in the middle of my third 15-mile bike ride.  I was more comfortable with myself.  The pain that I had experienced my last two bike rides was no longer there.  I was finally comfortable.  I realized that I was comfortable with the fact that I was a bi-shortsicle.  That morning, when I pulled on my bicycle shorts for the first time, I knew that they looked so wrong; but as I rode my bicycle, pain free, I knew that being a bi-shortsicle was so right.  Though, at times, I was embarrassed going out in public as a bi-shortsicle, I knew that I had to embrace who I was, and slowly but surely, I became more comfortable in my new, spandex skin.

However, soon enough, my “bi” nature was challenged.  TNT training on Sunday mornings begin with a bicycle ride, and these past couple of weeks training concludes with an optional run component.  The run component posed a challenge to my bi-shortsicleness because the padding in bicycle shorts is not conducive to running, since the padding is very thick.  Therefore, for two weeks I arrived at training in a pair of bicycle shorts, completed the bicycle ride, ducked into my car, used a really large towel as a cover, and then changed into a pair of (long, almost down to my knees) running shorts.  I did this for two weeks, and came to the realization that I needed to evolve past my bi-shortsicle self and take the next step.

Triathlon shorts are specifically made to have enough padding to be pretty comfortable on a bike, yet the padding is subtle enough to that you can run in them comfortably (allegedly).  It took only a short while to take the next leap.  I am now a tri-shortsicle. 

I have worn my tri-shorts swimming and they are great (the shorts are designed to dry quickly, since you wear them under your wetsuit, while swimming, and then when you come out of the water you take off your wetsuit and wear your tri-shorts for the bicycle and run portions).  I have worn them for bicycling and they are comfortable, too.  I have yet to take my tri-shorts out for a run, but I am comfortable with the idea that the world will see me and know me as a tri-shortsicle.

So, there you have it, I am out of the closet about what I take out of the closet to train for this triathlon.  I am a tri-shortsicle.  This journey has not been easy and I am not always comfortable with this fact.  However, I am embracing who I am, as I continue to engage in my journey of self-discovery.    

Lightning Crashes…

If you are a fan of the band “Live” you are probably familiar with their 1994 hit song “Lightning Crashes” (youtube link to the song, so turn your speakers down if you are at work), which peaked at #12 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart.  I am a member of Gen X, which by definition means that I have been fan Nirvana, Doc Martins and all things flannel, and I am also a big fan of Live.  It has been a while since I broke out Throwing Copper or Mental Jewelry (though Throwing Copper was far more successful on a commercial level, I think Mental Jewelry is the superior album and worth a purchase), which was a great blast from the past, so I owe a “thank you” to Friday’s weather.

You must be asking yourself, what does Live have to do with a triathlon?  That is an excellent question.

If you recall, Friday was a mercurial weather day in New Rochelle, raining early, clearing up into a beautiful day and then turning back to thunderstorms in the later part of the afternoon.  As you can imagine, rain is not ideal weather for bicycling or running, so I went to New York Sports Club to swim.  The NYSC pool is indoors and, as you may have gathered from my previous columns, I need to put a lot of time into improving my swim.  I arrived at the gym, pleasantly surprised to see that there was an open swimming lane, and jumped right in.  I swam a warm up lap and then followed up with a brisk two-lap follow up.  I was about to head out on another two-lap sprint when I was politely asked to exit the pool by a member of the NYSC staff.  “There’s lightning,” I was told. 

I got out of the pool and then politely explained to the staff member the concepts of outside and inside, and pointed out that the lightning was outside and we were inside.  There happens to be a huge window that is right next to the pool, and it was intimated that the lightning could go through the window and hit the pool.  Another swimmer was far more reticent that I was to leave the pool, giving the NYSC staff a good piece of her mind, calling the rule “extremely customer unfriendly,” and questionined how a brand new building could be dangerous in a lightning storm.  One staff member forwarded the explanation that NYSC’s policy to evacuate the pool is in case of a blackout – but, there was plenty of natural light from the outside streaming through the tremendous (lightning-penetrable) window, so that didn’t seem to be an overly convincing reason.  Then a senior staff member, who seemed very confident, explained that electricity, even in a modern building, could travel through the pipes and into the pool.

I have to be honest – if some high school-aged staff member had made the statement in a high pitch voice, I would have laughed out loud, right to his face.  I wasn’t buying any of the explanations; I chalked up the pool’s closing to some over-zealous lawyers and a highly-restrictive insurance policy.  Regardless, I knew I wasn’t getting my fourth lap in, so I headed over to Costco to do a mega-shopping.  While I was frustrated about my workout, I knew I had my next blog topic.  So after unloading my Costco shopping, I logged online to confirm the fact that the staff at NYSC was full of garbage and that the world, in fact, is run by hyper-protective lawyers. 

Lo and behold, in less than a minute of searching the internet I found this, in the New York Times no less.  Who would have thunk it?  Apparently, I owe someone an apology.

Triathlons and Child Birth/Labor

I am not afraid to say it.  I think that child birth/labor, and training and competing in a triathlon are similar in many ways.  I’ll wait while my female readers, especially those who are pregnant or who have gone through labor, go to the kitchen to get rotten tomatoes, funky heads of lettuce, raw eggs and the like, to throw at me.  Take your best shot!  Throw with everything you’ve got!  Please know that this invitation is only open to you while you sit in front of your computer and is NOT an invitation to pelt me with objects of any kind in-person.  I would not be nearly as brave if I was actually standing in front of you, but I can be virtual He-Man hiding behind the impenetrable walls of your computer screen, the internet and my computer.  Yell at me and tell me that I have no idea what I am talking about… I can take it (you can actually leave comments for me – maybe I shouldn’t mention that though).

I fully admit that I have no clue whatsoever about the actual pain experienced during child birth.  However, I have been in the labor room and spent the entire child birth experience with my wife for all three of my kids, so I do know a little something about the pain experienced by my wife as an observer.  As a result of this experience, I will be the first to say that I highly doubt that the pain and distress that is experienced during triathlon training (assuming that training doesn’t involve some sort of horrendously painful injury) is not even on the same planet as the pain experienced during child birth.  But, here are some of the similarities that I have observed:

It is ALL about the breathing:

Whether you are a professional Lamaze breather who, in your mind, can transform your pain into fluttering butterflies and gurgling brooks, or you haven’t taken a single birthing class, I can guarantee you that during labor a trained medical professional will tell you, the birthing mother, over and over (and over…) to breathe.  I can’t tell you what the medical reason is for the breathing, for all I know the breathing thing is just a ploy to focus moms on something other than the intense pain that they are experiencing, but child birth is all about the breathing.  Triathlons, at least for me, are all about the breathing, too, for a couple of reasons.  First, from a biological point of view, O need to breathe in order to exert myself.  No breathe, no move.  Second, focusing on my breathing gives me a mental center that often takes my mind off of the pain.  Breathing at a steady controlled pace requires concentration (at least for me, which might be a function of my lower-level intelligence) and when I am concentrating on breathing, I focus less on all the reasons why I want to stop.  Third, breathing helps me set my pace, taking a breath and exhaling for every two or three strides or strokes, as the case may be.  This allows me to maintain a steady pace, as opposed to vacillating my speed and output.

You know that it is going to be over (eventually):

What gets me through my training is knowing that eventually I will be done, even if “eventually” is going to be in a couple of hours.  Sure, I don’t have to change a triathlon’s diaper or save up for a triathlon’s college fund (it is never over with kids, is it?), but my comparison pertains to the immediate challenge at hand, not the long term issues.

There are moments when you (irrationally) hate everyone:

Usually, at the 25% - 35% point of a 6 mile run, a .93 mile swim or on any sort of incline that I encounter on my bike, I start to hate people for no rational reason at all.  I usually start with myself for agreeing to train for the event, I hate the people who sponsored me (even though I love you!) because if they hadn’t already sponsored me I could drop out (please sponsor me if you haven’t already!), I hate my coaches who motivate me and give me training assignments, I hate the people who encouraged me to train, etc.  As for child birth, we have all seen the movies where a woman in labor starts yelling irrationally at everyone in the room.  Now I know that this doesn’t happen in every labor room, but I am sure that is not a rare occurrence, albeit the yelling might be less dramatic, or the anger might be held inside and yelled in the mind (like I do).

There is a strong temptation to use drugs:

While a good number of women deliver “naturally” many others swear by their epidural.  Personally, I have blogged about my understanding of endurance athletes who use performance enhancing drugs (see “I Forgive You Lance Armstrong).  However, I will compete in this triathlon “naturally” – even though I am the proud owner of the website www.CheatStrong.com.  Ladies, for what it’s worth – if you want to experience pain take the epidural and then run a triathlon, you’ll be in better physical shape and it will hurt less to train for a triathlon (though it will take longer to finish). 

So there you have it.  There are more comparisons, but I think that I have provided you with enough ammunition food for thought.  Your comments are always appreciated.  Moms, thank you for tolerating all my musing.  Don’t forget that it is Father’s Day on Sunday!!!

Don't Try This At Home

For the first time in my life I have been taking care of my asthma in a manner that my pulmonologist approves of.  I am exercising, taking my prescribed medications on a regular basis and I am dieting.  As I feel better and better, deep in the recesses of my mind I have wondered, “Do I really need to take all this medication?”  It is tough to avoid the thought, “Is it all the exercise that is really doing the trick, and is the medication really just working due to a placebo effect?”  I got my answer this past Sunday.

After a tough, but not out of the ordinary, bike training on Sunday morning, I put on my running sneakers and went out on a run with some of my TNT teammates.  I take that last statement back.  I put my sneakers on and intended to go out on a run.  About .25 miles in to the run I stopped running and started to jog and, soon enough, I was wogging.  I struggled tremendously to complete a 2.5 mile run (considering that I ran 5 miles on Friday, I was very disappointed) and when I got back to my car I felt as tired and as beat up as I have felt in a long time.  During my last mile I was really upset, feeling like my training had hit a wall and, worse, I had taken a major step backwards.  A few of us were talking after running, and I said, offhand, to a teammate, “I guess I should have taken my Xopenex this morning.”  Xopenex is a fast acting inhaler that I use in more extreme circumstances, but I try to use it sparingly.  It was at that moment, with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath that I realized that not only did I fail to take my Xopenex, I hadn’t taken my Advair, which is a medication delivered by an inhaler, which I must take twice a day, without fail.

My mind was flooded with a plethora of realizations, among them: (i) I am an idiot for forgetting to take my medication; (ii) apparently, Advair really does work, and it is not just a placebo; (iii) I had just done bike training and ran 2.5 miles without taking a key asthma medication – that is pretty awesome, all things considered; (iv) I had just done bike training and ran 2.5 miles without taking a key asthma medication – and I could have ended up in the hospital, brilliant!

So, please, if you happen to see me out running/biking/swimming, and especially on race day, please ask me if I have taken ALL of my medication that I am supposed to take.  If you can help it, ask me before I start exercising…

The Princess and the Pea

You all probably know Hans Christian Anderson’s story of ThePrincess and the Pea.  For those who went to sleep during story time, the focal point of the story is a queen’s test of true princess-ness.  The Queen believed that a real princess could not sleep if there was a tiny pea underneath her as she slept, even if that pea was hidden under two-dozen mattresses.  Well, this morning I discovered that I am a princess of sorts.

I got up early to run, got dressed, which includes putting on “special” $10 running socks and my $100 sneakers (I actually get nauseous when I think about how much I spent on this gear, but I will explain why I did it in another post).  My sneakers are well padded and my socks are moisture-wicking, as were my shorts and t-shirt.  I hydrated, stretched for a few minutes and started to run.  Fast forward to .5 miles into my run, when I felt something irritating the bottom of my foot.  While in a former life I would have continued to run, I stopped to handle this issue.  When running long distances small irritations turn into larger irritations, which turn into small blisters which turn into large blisters, which means potential training days lost to healing the blister.  So, I decided to nip the irritant in the bud.

I stopped, took off my sneaker, looked inside, shook my sneaker vigorously and then, convinced that I got rid of the irritant, retied my sneaker and started to run again.  5 steps later I felt it again, stopped, untied my shoe… this time I blew into my shoe, too, retied my sneaker and started to run again… and then stopped ten steps later.  This time, I went through my previous method of cleaning out my shoe, then swept the bottom of my shoe with my finger, and then took off my sock and inspected the outside - I found nothing, put on my socks, retied my sneakers and started again… 3 steps later I stopped again.  I was feeling like an idiot, stopping for the fourth time in eighteen steps and prayed that no one was watching my pathetic display of prissiness.  This time I inspected the inside and outside of my sock.  Lo and behold, I found the smallest pebble,the size of a speck, caught up in my super-sock’s fibers.  I dislodged it with my fingernail, put my sock back on, retied my sneakers and proceeded to run another 4.5 miles with no problem.

The saddest part of this whole story is that while this blog should have been about my 5 mile run, all I can write about is the fact that I stopped four separate times within a quarter-block span because a speck in my sneaker was rubbing against the bottom of my foot, stuck in my $10 pair of socks in my $100 pair of sneakers (pathetic, right?).  To add insult to injury, now, if anyone comes up to me and calls me “princess” (whether they have read this blog or not), I am now obliged to respond, “Yes?”

If the Good L-rd Wanted Me to Swim, He Would Have Given Me Gills

You may have heard that swimming is a great exercise for asthmatics.  I certainly have.  What you may not know is why.  One of the main reasons why swimming is a good exercise for asthmatics is that the air in the pool is relatively clean, as opposed to the air that is available when bicycling or running outdoors, where the air is, at best, filled with the usual crud that pollutes the air.  At worst, outdoor cyclists and runners have the distinct pleasure of sucking in the exhaust and fumes that are emitted by the cars and trucks that traverse those street and roads that runners and cyclists share.  This is one of the reasons that swimming is a more asthma-friendly sport.  There is also the fact that the temperature and humidity level of the water above the surface of the pool is often more suitable for an asthmatic's lungs, or so I have heard. 

However, none of this makes up for the fact that swimming, at least the freestyle stroke, entails spending 80% - 95% of the time spent exercising with your head in a medium that offers zero oxygen.  A gulp of pollen-filled air is no cup of tea, but it beats the heck out of a lung-full of water.  You see, one of the major challenges that I face with asthma is not only the capacity to breath, but also an awkward breathing rate.  As a result, I need to focus on my breathing cadence, which is easy enough when I can take a breath whenever needed.  That is why swimming creates a unique challenge to me.  As a result, I could certainly make do without fins (though it would help), though they would be helpful, but good L-rd, I need gills.

In full discolsure, when I was younger (meaning, age 12) I was an excellent swimmer.  I spent a lot of time in the and under the water.  I could swim forever and hold my breath for even longer.  However, that was then and this is now (a couple of decades and pounds later).  My current reality is that the second that I put my head in the water I can't wait to get my head out, to take a breath.  So, if someone knows where I can get a gill implants (are there any pulmonary-plastic surgeons reading this blog?), please let me know.  Until then happens, I will continue to half-drown-half-churn through the water.

De-cleated

I will skip over most of the details of this morning’s bike ride, only to say that I was one of five people, three of them veterans of last year’s triathlon, all training for this year’s triathlon.  The vets pushed us hard and it was a great workout.  Everything went really well until I reached the summit of the final hill and got ready to dismount from my bicycle.

My right cleat clicked out nice and smooth (ahhh, what a pleasure) and I proceeded to press the bottom of my left foot outwards, away from the bike, to click my left foot out... still clicked in.  I was coming to a stop; I exaggerated the twist, starting to panic… still attached to the pedal.  I came to a stop and leaned on my right foot, with my left foot still attached to the pedal.  I twisted my leg in, then out, then in, then out and then my shoe came off the pedal.  Notice that I didn’t say that I clicked out, because I hadn’t.  I succeeded in removing my shoe from the cleat it was attached to (no minor accomplishment, since I had screwed the cleat into the shoe with two threaded screws). 

Alright - I had about a 2 mile ride home, but I could pedal, albeit awkwardly with my left foot and I had full use of my right cleat, which I proceeded to click in to the pedal and rode home.  Pulling up to the driveway, I started to slow down and gave myself ample time to unclick my cleat (remember what happened last time, right – if not, go back and read my last entry).  I twisted my right cleat outwards...  I was still clicked in.  I tried again, more frantic.  I twisted in, and out and in and out and I came to a stop (thankfully, I had my left foot unclicked due to the malfunction that occurred 10 minute earlier).  I placed my left foot down, managed not to fall and proceeded to follow the same steps that had worked earlier when my cleat was stuck.  Nothing.  By this time, I had slowly move down the block while trying to maintain my balance, as I tried to click out, and it began to dawn on me that I was not going to be able to click out, so I reached down and undid the three velcro straps on my shoes and removed my foot from the shoe, while the shoe remained attached to the bicycle pedal. 

So there I was, limping down the street (remember I am wearing only one shoe, which is on my left foot) pushing my bicycle with one pedal that has a shoe attached to it.  Then I hear from a window, “Hi Daddy!!!”  It was my 3 year old daughter, screaming out the window.  She must have been so proud to be my daughter.

Bumps & Bruises

Even though I posted yesterday, I thought that y’all would appreciate this short story (I’ll keep this post short).  I went out for a 13-mile bike ride this morning.  The ride went great.  I anticipated my stops and clicked my shoes out of the pedal well in advance of coming to a stop.  I rode up my driveway, clicking my right shoe out well in advance.  I came to a stop placing my weight, as I have learned, on my right foot as I unclipped my left foot… just a little too slowly, apparently.  Though my weight was on my right foot, as I unclipped I sort of shifted my weight to my left and lost my balance…  “Unclip, unclip, unclip,” I thought, to no avail, as I started to fall with my bike attached to my left foot.  Somehow, I managed to position my body so that I fell on my back, with my bike falling on top of me.

The net result of the fall was a bruised ego and a small crack in my confidence, but other than that I am perfectly fine (no one saw, which was nice).  The upside is that I got a good laugh at myself.  I hope you had a good laugh, too.