One more race in 2010

I know it's been a while since I've posted, so I wanted to put out a quick update.

Since the podium finish at Brierman, I haven't been doing much except running.  My wife and I are both doing the Richmond Marathon on November 13.  Well, I should clarify, she's doing the half marathon and I'm doing the full.  I'm very proud of her.  She decided back in the spring that she wanted to do a half marathon and she's on track to complete her goal.  I'm sure she's going to do great.  She has been very disciplined with her training (much more than I am) and when she finishes it, she'll have earned it much more than I did.  You have to understand that she had back surgery about ten years ago, has gone through the core muscle, ligament, and tendon obliterating experience of giving birth to three children, stomach issues that have necessitated trying multiple types of exercise nutrition, and more soreness that I've ever experienced.  Yet, when her training schedules says get out and run, she does it.  On top of that, I know that she has inspired a number of other people to take up running as a means towards losing weight and getting in shape.  She's pretty amazing (but then, I'm a pretty biased observer).

With my wife as inspiration, I have continued to train.  I decided during the summer (about the time that I decided that a full ironman distance race was a realistic goal) that I wanted to do the full marathon in Richmond.  I've already done two marathons, but they were both before the tech bubble burst, and neither one was a very pleasant experience.  Just goes to show that a 25 year-old's social lifestyle of going out quite frequently isn't meant for marathon training.  So I'm doing this one for a couple of reasons.  First, I want to prove that I can get through a marathon well.  I have a goal of finishing under 4:20 (10 min/mile pace) and a stretch goal of finishing under 3:54 (9 min/mile pace).  Second, I want to have a truly long distance race under my belt going into the 2011 season.  With my triathlon goals for 2011 being to complete a half-iron and possible a full, I feel like my confidence will be much higher with this race under my belt.  On top of that, everything I've read says that Richmond is a great race, flat, and a lot of fun.

In order to train for the marathon, I've essentially given up biking and swimming to focus on my run.  I did get a great 30 mile bike ride in a few weeks ago with a long-time friend, but other than that, I haven't turned a pedal (in anger or otherwise) since Brierman.  All that bike ride did was remind me that I need to spend my winter doing some back exercises.  I haven't even looked at the pool.  What I have done is run.  I've gotten to the point where an 8-10 mile run is "short."  I knocked out a 20 miler last weekend in less than 3:20.  And all I had for inspiration during that run was the podcasts on my iPod.  As an aside, I've found that I much prefer podcasts for long runs.  Music is great, but a one-hour podcast makes the time go by much easier.  After the 20 miler I felt great.  I made it through two Halloween parties after the run and didn't fall asleep at either one.  I was climbing stairs the next day without pain in my quads or my hammies.  Is it possible that I've become a distance runner?

This optimism though is tempered by my memories of my last marathon.  I ran the first Baltimore Marathon about a decade ago.  And I remember nailing an 18 mile training run about 2 or 3 weeks pre-race.  I went into race day on a huge high, expecting to do great and thinking that breaking 5 hours would be easy and 4:30 might be possible.  Then, about mile 8 I developed a blister on my foot.  It popped around mile 11.  The sun beat down on us and the temperature rose to about 70 degrees.  My breathing became labored.  I spent the last 10 miles of the race (which were mostly downhill) running about 500 yards at a time and then walking for a few minutes.  I finished well over 5 hours, feeling terrible.

I've learned alot since that awful race.  No more Red Bull on race morning.  No re-lacing of my shoes on race day to accommodate a timing chip.  I'll take my own nutrition on to the course (Hammer Nutrition's Sustained Energy).  With the knowledge that I know more now than I did then, I still have high hopes for the marathon.  But mostly I can't wait to cross the finish line and see my wife beaming after finishing her race a few hours earlier.

Note: It's unlikely that I'll post again between now and the race.  There just isn't much going on from a training standpoint.  It might be a little quiet for the next month or so simply because it's the off season.  But be sure to check back around the beginning of the year.  Eagleman is in June and training will start in January to make sure I do well in that half-ironman distance race.

PODIUM!

First let me apologize for taking so long to get a new post up.  Apparently I should add "managing a blog" to the list of things I'm trying to juggle in my quest to one day complete a 140.6 triathlon.  The past three weeks have been full of work commitments, family events, another wedding, and all of the usual unplanned distractions.  But all of those have been made more tolerable by the Brierman Triathlon that ended with the photo to the right.  Yup, yours truly is standing on that box with the 3.  I made my first podium ever.

This was particularly rewarding for a few reasons.  First of all, I had finished fourth in the Clydesdale division in 2008 and 2009.  Thus earning the title of first place of the non-podium finishers.  Not very exciting.  The only solace I took in the past two years was that I wasn't even close to the third place finisher, usually 5 minutes or more behind.  But I had always had the goal of making a podium and I thought this would be the race where I could do it.

Secondly, I should have made the podium at the Dewey Beach race.  But, rather than registering as a Clydesdale, I registered in my age group so that I'd be in the same start wave as one of my friends.  After Dewey was over, just out of curiosity, I checked my finishing time against the Clydesdale finishers.  Yup, would have finished third, but for the first time in a while, I hadn't registered as a Clydesdale and missed out on my first podium.  But the podium at Brierman was better.  See, at Dewey they don't have an actual podium, they just announce the finishers, you trudge up to the Race Director and get a medal, and then turn around and go home.  Piranha Sports, the folks who run Brierman, do it right.  They have an actual podium, give out nice big medals to the top three in each age and weight division, announce the winners, and (as evidenced above) take everyone's picture.  So, how did I make it to this podium?

The race started awfully cold.  I think it was about 55 degrees when we started the swim at 8 am.  Being a veteran of this race, I remembered to bring a sweatshirt and some shoes that I didn't mind losing.  So I stayed bundled up until right before the start while everyone else stood around in their wetsuits shivering and trying to keep their feet warm.  Once in the water it wasn't all that cold.  The course is a triangular swim and after Dewey, it was nice to be in calm, flat water.  I found some space and just tried to stay in a rhythm.  I managed to round the first buoy without incident.  But rounding the second buoy and heading for the beach I realized why the earlier wave had been all over the place coming in, we were swimming straight into the sun.  Good thing I wasn't in first place.  I just followed the crowd and hoped that we were all swimming towards the right spot.  A few minutes later I found that we were and I was out of the water.

T1 was pretty uneventful.  I managed to get out of my wetsuit and into my cycling gear without any problems. I had brought three different shirts with me since I wasn't certain about the weather.  I opted for warmth over style, wearing my long sleeve red cycling jersey (thank you Jenn and Gerings) rather than my poker cycling jersey.  A tough decision to be sure, but one that I was thankful for when I was flying downhill.  Getting out of T1 was a little worrisome as I tried to keep mud out of my cycling cleats.  Then it was on to the bike to find that I had made a rookie mistake.

The first 100 yards of the bike I spent trying to power up a hill in a tough gear.  My rookie mistake was not setting my bike in an easy gear before racking it in transition.  So instead of spinning while trying to get my shoes engaged with the clips, I was trying to turn over a big gear.  Did I mention that it's uphill the first half mile out of transition?  Fortunately I powered through it, got into the right gear, washed down the three Aleve I had taken in T1, and started pedaling.  Being a third year participant, I knew what to expect on the bike.  I didn't overdo it getting out of the park and onto the main roads, let my legs rest on the first downhill and settled into a comfortable pace through the rollers on the first 9 miles.  I was sucking down some nutrition, remembering my Endurolytes (electrolyte pills), and feeling pretty good.  I didn't have a lot of people passing me, but I wasn't moving up much either.  I was just trying to go fast, but save some energy for "The Hill."

Brierman has a 1.5 mile hill about 9 or 10 miles in to the bike.  It's probably the defining feature of the race and in the past, has left me wondering how all these people go uphill faster than I do.  I don't know if I had gone out to quick on the bike in past years or if I just felt like I was slower up the hill.  I actually felt a lot

With the motivation of a sub-2:30 time, I was out of the saddle on all the little uphills.  I was tucked and pushing the big gear on the downhills.  Only once, going downhill on a blind roller, did I touch the brakes.  After the race I checked the bike computer to see what my top speed was.  It read 45 mph.  The significance of going under 2:30 is that I thought I had a shot at a podium if I could get under 2:30.  In the past the 3rd place Clydesdale had been right around 2:27 or so.  I thought I had to get out of T2 with 40 minutes to spare to get under 2:30.  The run was 3.9 miles, but it is a very hilly 3.9 and I didn't realistically think I could average much less than 10 minutes per mile on the run.

I came into T2 all by myself.  I had no problems dismounting and wasn't worried about getting mud in my cleats since the bike was done.  I dumped my helmet and sunglasses, tore off my cycling shoes and slid into my running shoes.  Last year I had carried my water belt with me on the run.  In previous races this year I had always had something with me, a gel, some Endurolytes, something bouncing around either in my pockets, in my water belt, or something.  Every race this year I've been annoyed with the bouncing around.  I decided before the race that I wasn't taking anything with me on the run.  Just me, my shoes, my running hat, and the road.

You can tell in the first few steps of the run, before you're even out of transition, if your legs are going to cooperate or not.  Fortunately for me, all of the running I had been doing paid off.  The legs were ready to run and I was out of transition.  Still, seemingly out of nowhere, I found someone coming up behind me in the first half mile.  As he caught me I noticed that he was wearing some calf sleeves on his legs.  I've been thinking about adding these to my triathlon gear and I struck up a conversation with him as we headed up the first hill.  Not only does he love his calf sleeves, but he also told me that his derailleur broke on his bike and he wasn't officially in the race.  Just another crazy triathlete who thought that running 4 miles in the hills was a fun way to spend a Sunday morning even if he wasn't going to get an official time.  He wished me a good race and off he went, up the hill faster than me.

At the first water stop, about a mile into the race, I passed my first runner.  He was older than I was and skinnier, meaning that I wasn't passing him for a place in the Clydesdale category, but it still felt good to get a pass.  I could still see Calf Sleeves up ahead of me.  He hadn't completely dropped me (and he hadn't biked 21 miles).  Legs still felt good and I was over the first hill.  Time for a knee crunching downhill.  As a cruised downhill, I passed a woman and we had a brief conversation about all the praying we were doing on the course, it was Sunday morning after all.  At the bottom of the hill, we turned around and headed right back up the same hill we had just spend about 7 or 8 minutes descending.  In past years, this has been the true test for me.  I've never stopped, but there have been a few times that I have had trouble catching guys who were walking (even though I was "running").  This time, I just kept grinding up the hill.  Calf Sleeves was still in sight and there were a few other guys I was starting to make up some ground on.

One of my favorite parts of my triathlon season is hitting the top of that hill.  You turn left off a paved road onto about 100 yards of gravel trail.  When you make that turn, you know that you don't have to run uphill anymore that season.  It's all downhill from there.  If your knees hurt, you have all winter for them to feel better.  If your legs are tired, they'll be resting soon enough.  If your thirsty, all you have to do is run faster and you'll get water sooner.  Time to kick it for home.

Before I get back to the water stop I've passed Calf Sleeves.  I'm cruising.  There's another runner out there ahead of me and he's getting closer with every step.  He's about my size.  As I approach him I think that there's a chance he could be a Clydesdale like me.  Last year I passed a guy on the run with about 150 yards to go, but he hung with me and re-passed with about 50 yards to go.  I was at the limit, so I couldn't go with him.  I wasn't making that mistake again this year.  As I got closer I measured weather he was at his limit or had something in reserve.  It would have been fun to have a half mile race to the finish, but it would be even more fun to just blow by so quickly that he couldn't possibly come with me.  I turned it up just a little quicker and went by him without hesitation.  He said "nice job" and made no effort to keep up.  Still, I didn't want a repeat of last year, so I pushed it all the way through the finish.

The sun was out, the weather had warmed up a little bit.  As I went over to the computers that Piranha had set up with the results, I saw that they were updated through 2:24.  Only one Clydesdale had finished, and he had been done for about 15 minutes already.  Had I managed to finish second among the "fat guys"?!?!?  The guy I passed in the last half mile walked up behind me, he was a Clydesdale too.  That pass had been for a position.  The question was just whether it was for 2nd or 3rd (or could it, painfully, have been for fourth?).  I grabbed my recovery drink and came back to check the times again.  As it turned out, another Clydesdale had come in at 2:25, my 2:27 was good for 3rd and the guy I passed had to settle for fourth.  I spent the next half hour or so packing up my stuff, getting something to eat, and waiting for the awards ceremony. My third place medal now hangs in my office, a reminder of the 2010 season.  But it's not quite over yet.  We still have the Richmond (half) Marathon in November.

Last Race of the Season

This week is one of the most bittersweet weeks of the year for me.  On the one hand, I've been training for the better part of six months or so (taking a few weeks off for that pesky April broken bone), so I'm probably in some of the best shape of the year.  It's also the week leading up to my last triathlon of the season.  Sure, there are other races I could do in October or November, but that requires travelling farther and farther at greater and greater expense. So, for the third straight year, I'll pack my bags on Saturday night, try to get a good night's sleep and get up around 4:45am on Sunday morning to drive about an hour for one of my favorite races.  All of the other races I do each year find me surrounded by friends, family, or both.  Brierman is a lonely endeavor.  It is in complete contrast to the Dewey Beach race.

At Dewey, there are over 1,000 competitors.  I usually know at least 4 or 5 of them and both of my parents usually make the trip to watch the race.  My wife is there, my kids there, my friends parents are there.  On top of that, we almost always run into other people we know at the Dewey Beach Tri.  It's usually somewhat warm at Dewey.  The race is flat (except for the occasional ocean wave).  The race is short.  At Dewey you can get by on just a single bottle of water, no energy gels, and certainly not any sort of endurance fuel.  By noon at Dewey, you're sipping cocktails, trying to keep your face from getting sunburnt, and figuring out how you're going to spend the rest of the afternoon.

I make the one hour car trip out to Greenbrier State Park, near the top of a ridge halfway between Frederick and Hagerstown, alone.  I don't expect anyone I know to be there.  It's been cold each of the past two years.  I'm usually in a sweatshirt and windpants up until the last moment possible.  The only flat part of the Brierman race is the swim.  The bike is about 22 miles of rolling hills, including one 1.5 mile stretch that just goes up and up and up.  The run is about 4 miles of thigh burning, knee crushing up and downs.  Brierman requires that you plan your nutrition.  You must take in calories or you'll run out of steam before you finish, which happens approximately 2 and a half hours after you start.  By noon at Brierman you have packed up your stuff and are usually halfway home with hopes of taking a nap on the couch while watching some NFL football.

The two races are about as opposite as you can get, and I love them both.  The festive atmosphere, short race, and after party at Dewey is always fun.  I look forward to the good times at Dewey every year.  But Brierman holds a special place in my heart.  Brierman was the first race that I did by myself and the first race that I wasn't sure I could finish.  There's a camaraderie among Brierman participants that you just don't get at a bigger race.  The participants linger around after the race and clap for the winners of the various age (and weight) groups.  But my favorite thing about Brierman is the last mile of the run.  It's all downhill.  It's the last mile that I'll race until next year.  I always hit that last mile and think "put everything you've got into this one mile and you don't have to do it again for a long time."  I fly down that last mile, legs, knees, feet, ankles be damned.  I'm REALLY looking forward to that last mile on Sunday.

Note: Last year I missed my first podium finish by 6 minutes in this race.  I raced in the Clydesdale (200+ lbs) group and finished 4th in 2:34.56.  The course is back to its original 2008 configuration this year and my goal is to set a PR on the course (which means beating 2:33.33 from 2008) and hopefully go under 2:26 which I think would be good enough for a top 3 in the Clydesdale division.  I also hope that this is my last Clydesdale race.  I'm around 208 right now and I think I'll be under 200 lbs when next year's season comes around.

Dewey Beach Race Recap

First of all, I'd like to thank Igor for staying way, way, WAY offshore last weekend.  Some surf forecasts had called for up to 7 foot waves for Saturday.  I guess Mother Nature took pity on those of us who had been put through the ringer in 2009 and gave us something we could deal with instead.  That being said, I think the race organizer (or at least the guy with the starting gun) still had it in for us.  He sent the first wave of racers into the water just as a nice sized wave crashed onto the beach. It looked like the scenes from Braveheart when the two armies clashed.  Except instead of kilts, my brethren were clad in tight fitting triathlon gear or wetsuits.  While some were knocked back, all made it through the initial salvo, past the crashing waves, out to the first buoy and hung a right, where the current took over.  I was not in this first wave, I was in the second set of racers to head out, 4 minutes later, and without a wave crashing over us as we hit the water.

The Dewey Beach race is a short race, half mile swim, 7.2 mile bike, 3.1 mile run.  In 2008, the first year that I participated in this race, I completed the course in about 1:14.  This year, I was hoping to make it in 1:10.  I had done more swimming that I did in 2008 or 2009 and certainly felt better about my run.  But I really hadn't spent that much time on the bike since getting back from Ohio.  I mean, we only had two kids start school, a sister-in-law get married, work, and an ungodly heat wave during the one week I might have gotten in a ride.  So I don't understand why I haven't been riding more.  Anyway, 1:10 was my goal, but I wasn't convinced that I could do it.

The race started simply enough.  I walked as far up the beach and I thought I could without looking like I was lost.  In an ocean swim you have to swim about 100 yards out before you can turn and swim parallel to the beach.  The biggest mistake most first-timers make is assuming that you can start on the beach at the same spot as the buoy that's 100 yards offshore.  This is where the current comes in.  If you've ever swam in the ocean you know that you slowly move in one direction or another depending on the current.  Well, this effect also applies when you swim and has caused more than a few first timers to turn around, go back to shore, walk up the beach and start their swim over after repeated futile efforts to swim directly into the current to get around the buoy.  Others just give up.  Not wanting to suffer that fate myself, I always seem to err on the side of caution and start as far up the beach as I can without seeming out of place.  This strategy paid off again this year as I easily rounded the first buoy, navigated my way past the midway buoy and happily found the buoy that indicated the turn for home.  If you remember my last post, this buoy didn't exist last year because it was washed/blown away.  I managed to dodge a few breakers and found myself on the beach about 16 minutes after I had started.  Just a quick walk/run over the sand dune and then to find my bike.

There are over 1,000 people who participate in the Dewey Beach Triathlon every year.  This makes for the largest transition area of any of the races that I take part in.  Most transition areas have one side for coming in (either from the swim or the bike) and one side for going out (either for the bike or the run).  Due to the size and layout of this race, bike in/out is in the same place and run in/out is in another place.  I was well positioned for the run in/out, but that meant jogging through the entire transition area in cycling shoes with my bike....twice.  Not to mention being almost as far as you can get from the swim entrance.  But I found my bike, managed not to slip on the pavement in my cycling shoes, and took off.  And I mean took off!  I was averaging about 22-24 mph on the way out.  I was flying.  In my first race at Dewey I remember feeling the same way and thinking "I'm going to crush this bike ride!"  Fortunately, I remembered the hard earned lesson from that first race.  Going out fast on the bike only means that you're riding a tailwind, which, when you make the 180 degree turnaround, turns into a headwind.  22-24 mph out turned into about 16-18 mph coming back in.  Still, it was a good, but not great bike ride.  Back into transition with the bike, back to the back of the transition area without slipping in my cycling shoes and it was time to run.  45 minutes into the race.  I'd have to do a 25 minute 5k to make 1:10.  I haven't run a 25 minute 5k in a long time, much less after swimming and biking, but I decided that I'd go as hard as I could for as long as I could and trust my training.

It should be noted that I can't seem to do a triathlon without feeling like I have to pee from the start.  I've tried going before the race, but it doesn't seem to change anything.  Apparently I just hydrate well precarb loading" for the next one (see the pic above).

Back to the Washing Machine

As I write this, the countdown clock on the right side of the blog says I have less than 4 days until the 2010 version of the Dewey Beach Sprint Triathlon. This race holds a special place for me since it was the race that started it all.

I got into triathlons in 2008 when a bunch of my poker buddies told me about this triathlon that they were planning to do.  A few years before I met them, they had done this race as a motivator to get themselves in shape.  After a few years of expanding waist sizes, getting winded going up the stairs, and still not quiting smoking (for one of them anyway), they had decided that it was time to get in shape again.  And so, they had signed up for the Dewey Beach Sprint Triathlon and they wanted to know if I was interested.  Well, if you read my first post, you know that this was something I was definitely interested in doing.

I started out by running again.  Something I hadn't done seriously in years.  I'm still amazed at how winded I was after just one lap around the neighborhood (about 2 miles) on that first day back.  I mean, I just breezed through a 10 mile run today and felt great.  But those first two miles were tough.  Then I took the two older kids (WW wasn't born yet) and rented a bike and trailer and did 10 miles on the NCR Trail.  I even ran a 5k or two.  Swimming was the hard part, but we belonged to a neighborhood pool and I did a few laps.  My interest was starting to become more of a passion.

That year I finagled a new road bike for a birthday present.  Our annual vacation to Linwood in Ohio turned into a training camp.  I was doing two-a-days, including open water swims in Lake Erie.  At the end of our two week vacation, I completed my first race in Ohio, but it was still Dewey that had gotten me started.  And all of us made it to Dewey, full of excitement and a little competition.  I still remember at registration that year how one of the guys was telling me how the wetsuit he just bought was going to help him beat me (he didn't finish the swim and had left the race by the time we were done).

The Ocean that year must have know that there were some potential triathlon addicts among the 1,000 or so participants.  We were blessed with calm seas conducive to fast swims.  The sun wasn't too hot and I finished the race in 1:14.  It's a short race, 1/2 mile swim, 7.2 mile bike, 3.1 mile run, but, with the exception of my wetsuit wearing friend, we all finished.  We enjoyed a great post-race lunch and vowed to be back the next year.

In 2009 we were back, but with a smaller contingent this time.  The wetsuit decided that ocean swims weren't for him.  One of my sisters went off and had a baby.  Another friend had decided that riding his bike upright just wasn't enough fun and was still recovering from a bad case of road rash.  Those of us who hadn't been scared off by the rigors or training were in for a surprise when we crested the dunes last year.  The sea was angry, but apparently not angry enough to cancel the swim.  And so we dove into the breakers.  Starting 50 yards up the beach so we could make the first buoy without the current carrying us past it.  If you swam too close to the shore, you were constantly fighting the breakers.  I heard stories of people getting seasick while they swam.  The final buoy blew away down the beach, leading to the following exchange:

Me (treading water and yelling at some lifeguards sitting on their surfboards): Where's the buoy?
Lifeguards: We are the buoy!

All who participated agreed that it was like swimming in a washing machine.  The forecast, thanks to Igor, isn't looking much better for the 2010 version of the race.  So we'll just have to be prepared for anything.  If we go back into the washing machine, at least I'll know what to expect.  If they cancel the swim, I may do really well since I've been running a ton in preparation for the Richmond Half Marathon.  But maybe, just maybe, the ocean will know what we went through last year and grant us a pardon, for just a few hours, on Saturday morning.

Some Perspective

I know this blog is dedicated to my training efforts while also juggling the responsibilities of being a Husband, Father, employee, friend, etc...  So I promise, I'll get around to that part.  But first, a little perspective.

Nine years ago today I was in Northern Virginia conducting employee education meetings for one of our clients. Jenn was with me, but sleeping in at the hotel room.  As I got ready to start the first meeting of the day, walked by an employee's cubicle.  He was listening to the Howard Stern show and I overheard something about a plane flying into one of the World Trade Center towers.  Nobody knew much at that point and Howard was speculating about it being a small private plane.  And with that I dismissed the news and went about my business.  I conducted the meeting and emerged an hour later.  Why nobody had come in and stopped us to tell us about what was happening is beyond me, but at that time I think it still seemed unreal to just about everyone.  When I came out of the meeting, we went over to one of the TV's in their break room and tried to absorb what was happening.  I don't think that either tower had collapsed yet, but both were burning.  My first thought was to go back to the hotel and see Jenn.

Due to the blackout shades, she was still sleeping when I got over to the hotel.  I told her what was happening and we turned on CNN to watch the coverage.  We just sat there for a little while, not sure what to do or what was going on.  Eventually we checked out and I went back to my client's office.  We were still in a state of uncertainty about the scope of what was happening.  It was decided that there would be no more meetings that day and then I had to figure out how to get from Reston, VA back to Baltimore.  As we were figuring out what to do, the receptionist came over to me and said my Mom was on the phone.  You see, the cell towers were overwhelmed in Northern Virginia due to the plane that had flown into the Pentagon.  So I couldn't call her and she couldn't call me.  At the time I was travelling all the time, so Mom had no idea whether I was in the air or on the ground.  She had called my boss who had told her where I was and gave her the number.  Then she called their office and got me.  Relieved that I was on the ground and in the area, I told her that I'd call when I got home.  But that was the real trick, how to get home.  The rumor was that all the bridges in the DC area had been closed.  So we had to take a detour about an hour north of DC, through Frederick, to get home to Baltimore.  It was a beautiful day for a drive, but that was about the only thing beautiful about that day.  We made it home and, like everyone else, spent the rest of the day watching the coverage and dealing with the fact that we had just experienced one of the defining moments of our generation.

This morning, as I drove my son to his first soccer game, I realized that 9/11 was never something that my children had experienced, but that had shaped the world they live in now.  I realized that one day I would have to tell the story of where we were when it happened.  That I might have to explain how different the world was before it happened.  It is a solemn day for those of us who lived through it and we will never forget those who lost their lives both on that day and in the aftermath.

How does this relate to training for a triathlon?  Simple, whenever I encounter a difficult hill on the bike, a run that is really kicking my ass, a swim set that I really don't want to do, I remember, and I gain strength.  It doesn't have to be remembering those who died in 9/11, Iraq, or Afghanistan, it just has to be a remembrance of  someone who can't climb that hill, make that run, or do that swim.  That memory will give you strength and you'll realize that you're just bitching about something that those people, alive or dead, wish that they could do.  And as you think about that, the pain in your legs, your lungs, your arms, goes away.  And before you know it, your workout is done and you feel thankful that you have the ability to do it.

Remember.

Here comes the bride!

As many of you know, my sister-in-law is getting married this weekend.  Other than finding this picture of a running shoe wedding cake, what does that have to do with triathlon training you ask?  Let me tell you.

First of all, my wife is the Matron of Honor.  In other words, she has to do nearly everything the bride does while trying to keep the bride from flipping out because the bride is getting married in a few days.  Until the last week, I always through the maid/matron of honor didn't do much more than the best man (a role I've served in on several occasions).  As best man, you throw a bachelor party, help get everyone squared away with their tuxes, and make sure the groom gets to the wedding reasonably sober on the big day.  So naturally, I assumed that a maid/matron of honor would do the same sorts of things.  Holy crap was I wrong!  Apparently the maid/matron of honor is involved in many of the smallest details of the wedding.  Now maybe this is function of the fact that my wife is also the bride's sister and is almost as excited as the actual bride.  But either way, it means that training has to now be squeezed in between my work my wife's work, kid's schedules, my wife's training schedule for her half marathon, and whatever else comes up (like the state fair being this week).  Now I'm not only running to train, but also to work off the fried smores and oreos.  So, I ran on Monday night after the kids were in bed and clocked somewhere between 3 and 4 miles from 9:30 to 10-ish at night.  To make tonight's workout work, I went with the entire family up to my in-laws and then ran home (a little over 6 miles).  It pays to be flexible with all this other stuff going on.  Hmmm, maybe that's a theme we'll see throughout this little blog.

The second issue that a wedding introduces is that it literally removes days from your training schedule.  If I were a professional athlete this excuse probably would go over about as well as "the dog ate my homework."  Just look here at what Michael Phelps coach has said about his training discipline over the past year or so.  Apparently all of those celebrity appearances, parties, and whatnot led to him blowing off a few training sessions.  But I'm not a pro and I don't intend to give up some of the fun things in life just because I'm training.  I've hung out with those guys who say "I can't have a beer tonight, I'm training." and it's a bit of a buzz kill.  Well, I'm no buzz kill!  So the Friday morning golf, beer and cigars, Friday night rehearsal dinner, Saturday reception, and Sunday hangover/brunch all needed to be factored in to my training.  In other words, from Friday at 8 am until Monday morning, it's unlikely that I'll be running (unless I'm trying to get to the bar before last call), biking (unless it's the only way to get from one party to the next) or swimming (unless I fall in the inner harbor during the festivities).  This means that it looks like I'll be switching ends of the day for Friday's run.  I'll try to get 4 miles in before the golf/beer/cigars.  At least I'll be warmed up and loose by the time I get to the golf course.