Proof that I'm crazy... I just completed a 63 mile bike ride -my longest yet. Wait...that's not the crazy part. The crazy part is that this comes on a day when I was supposed to ride about half this distance according to our training calendar.
Why would I choose to do this? I could blame Chirag - my riding partner for the day - pressuring me into riding longer than I wanted to. He's training for the Solvang Century and is trying to build up his mileage. The story of how I met Chirag is an interesting one, but has nothing to do with Ironman training so I won't go into it... suffice it to say we're probably related in some way.
Anyway, that's not the reason. The real reason is that I'm completely inadequate on the bike when it comes to riding longer distances. My butt starts hurting, my neck and shoulders start to ache, I imagine that my hands are going to fall asleep and slip off my handbars... you get the picture. And while I'm eventually going to be doing a lot more long rides, it's driving me crazy that I constantly feel crummy after getting off my bike. The solution? Miles....lots of them.
So we rode from Chirag's house near Rancho San Antonio up to Sawyer Camp Trail. The day was beautiful (reinforces my earlier thoughts on living in California) and we covered the 31 miles pretty quickly. I was feeling great - really strong. In retrospect, I credit my enormous breakfast at IHOP that morning. The boost from that breakfast started winding down on our way back. By around mile 45, I started feeling restless and knew that my body was starting to tire. The last 10 miles, all I could think about was getting done. Actually, that's not exactly true. I was also wondering how I was possibly going to keep that up for 115 miles in a race.... and then run a marathon. By the time we got back to Chirag's house, any enthusiasm I felt about finishing had pretty much been killed off by my worry about how I would ever do this in an event. It didn't help that on the ride we met a guy pulling his baby in a stroller who told me that the race portion of Vineman (my event) was tough. Or that even with a stroller, he was going the same speed as me. Or that it had taken about 4.5 hours to cover this distance, which meant that I was on target for a 9 hour bike ride at Vineman.
So back to additional proof that I'm crazy.... I complete my longest ride ever and I can't even enjoy the accomplishment.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Louie Bonpua Triathlon
I just complete my first Olympic distance triathlon on Treasure Island, near San Francisco. The event itself was a lot of fun, but it was also a very real reminder of why I've joined Team in Training. In the days before the race, I received this email from the coaches:
Team,
Obviously you know Louie's name, as we are racing in the event named for him this Sunday. But in case you don't know his story, here's a brief overview. Also, check out our team webpage, for Louie's inspirational tribute video.
At the age of 32, Louie was diagnosed with chronic myelogenous leukemia (CML). Chemotherapy was able to keep the cancer in check. He was able to live his life, but was forced to stay on maintenance chemo. After building his strength back, Louie joined TNT in 1999 as a participating honoree for the Pacific Grove Triathlon. Even though he was still on chemo, Louie completed the triathlon and became an active part of the Team, raising money, and becoming a spokesman for himself and all honorees.
Louie's health went up and down. The chemo was not working as well, and he lost a lot of weight and became very weak. Word came out of a new "wonder drug" that was in clinical trials. Always the fighter, Louie talked his way into the phase 3 clinical trials for what would later be called Gleevec. The effect was immediate. Louie gained weight, strength, and health. With this new strength, Louie set his sights on IronTeam.
Louie joined IronTeam for the 2001 season. He originally was going to be an honoree, but signed up as a participant. He went through the same training and fundraising as you. Throughout the season, his health started to falter, but he stuck with it. In August 2002, Louie finished Ironman Canada in front of a huge crowd of screaming fans.
Following the Ironman, Louie was chosen to carry the Olympic torch when it passed through San Francisco. At the same time, his health continued to fail. He started to get pain in his joints, and went in for a checkup. His cancer had reached the "blast crisis" phase, which meant that he had a few months to live. One week after entering the hospital, he was scheduled to carry the torch. The doctors only allowed him to go when they realized he would not take no for an answer, and would break out if they didn't give him their blessing.
It was a cold but clear morning at Fort Point. As the sun rose, hundreds of Louie's friends, fans, and teammates came to cheer him on. He arrived in an ambulance, and expected to be pushed in a wheelchair. But when the time came, Louie stood from the wheelchair, held the torch high, and walked (followed by about 300 cheering people).
That evening, Louie went back to the hospital, and after celebrating with his family, fell asleep. Louie never awoke from that sleep. He held on for about 3 days, but died early on the morning of Jan 22nd, with his family by his side.
The first annual Louie tri was held the following weekend. The tri had already been scheduled, but was immediately re-named in his honor. And we continue that tradition today. But the Louie tri is not just about Louie. It's really about our honorees, past and present. It's about those who we have lost, those who have beat cancer, and those who are still fighting. And most importantly, it's about making sure that in the future, we won't lose any more of our friends and loved ones to cancer.
It was a beautiful morning. As I stood in my wetsuit, listening to Louie's friends talk about him before the race, I felt very calm. It's funny how when you're focused only on yourself, events like this can seem intimidating.... but when you're thinking about someone else and the challenges they faced, your insecurities seem fairly minor.
It was with this mindset that I got into the San Francisco Bay for the first time in my life. My previous attempts have involved putting a foot in the water and running out screaming. For those of you who don't know, the Bay is really really cold. Even in a wetsuit. But as I started stroking, I realized that I actually felt really comfortable in the water. The cold didn't bother me after I started moving, and it was nice that the water didn't have the same marshy taste and smell that the lagoon had. I stroked at a slow and steady pace, and occasionally looked up to make sure I was headed in the right direction. I could tell that there were a lot of swimmers ahead of me, but wasn't sure how many were behind me. When I got out, I looked back, wondering if I was the last swimmer (my usual position). It turned out that there was at least a handful of swimmers still in the water... progress!
I ran down to the transition area, peeling off my wetsuit on the way. I was wearing tri-shorts, which I could wear through all three events, so once I got my wet suit off, pulled on my bike jersey, and got my shoes on, I was pretty much ready to run out of the area with my bike. The 25-mile ride should have been fairly easy - it was a flat course a course that twisted and turned through the streets of Treasure Island. In reality, the streets were bumpy, my shorts didn't have enough padding, and my legs were more tired than I thought from the swim. My transition from the bike to the run was quick, and then I was completing the last 6 miles of the event. My run was slow, but felt fine. When I crossed the finish line, I felt (for the first time) that the Ironman might actually be possible.
Team,
Obviously you know Louie's name, as we are racing in the event named for him this Sunday. But in case you don't know his story, here's a brief overview. Also, check out our team webpage, for Louie's inspirational tribute video.
At the age of 32, Louie was diagnosed with chronic myelogenous leukemia (CML). Chemotherapy was able to keep the cancer in check. He was able to live his life, but was forced to stay on maintenance chemo. After building his strength back, Louie joined TNT in 1999 as a participating honoree for the Pacific Grove Triathlon. Even though he was still on chemo, Louie completed the triathlon and became an active part of the Team, raising money, and becoming a spokesman for himself and all honorees.
Louie's health went up and down. The chemo was not working as well, and he lost a lot of weight and became very weak. Word came out of a new "wonder drug" that was in clinical trials. Always the fighter, Louie talked his way into the phase 3 clinical trials for what would later be called Gleevec. The effect was immediate. Louie gained weight, strength, and health. With this new strength, Louie set his sights on IronTeam.
Louie joined IronTeam for the 2001 season. He originally was going to be an honoree, but signed up as a participant. He went through the same training and fundraising as you. Throughout the season, his health started to falter, but he stuck with it. In August 2002, Louie finished Ironman Canada in front of a huge crowd of screaming fans.
Following the Ironman, Louie was chosen to carry the Olympic torch when it passed through San Francisco. At the same time, his health continued to fail. He started to get pain in his joints, and went in for a checkup. His cancer had reached the "blast crisis" phase, which meant that he had a few months to live. One week after entering the hospital, he was scheduled to carry the torch. The doctors only allowed him to go when they realized he would not take no for an answer, and would break out if they didn't give him their blessing.
It was a cold but clear morning at Fort Point. As the sun rose, hundreds of Louie's friends, fans, and teammates came to cheer him on. He arrived in an ambulance, and expected to be pushed in a wheelchair. But when the time came, Louie stood from the wheelchair, held the torch high, and walked (followed by about 300 cheering people).
That evening, Louie went back to the hospital, and after celebrating with his family, fell asleep. Louie never awoke from that sleep. He held on for about 3 days, but died early on the morning of Jan 22nd, with his family by his side.
The first annual Louie tri was held the following weekend. The tri had already been scheduled, but was immediately re-named in his honor. And we continue that tradition today. But the Louie tri is not just about Louie. It's really about our honorees, past and present. It's about those who we have lost, those who have beat cancer, and those who are still fighting. And most importantly, it's about making sure that in the future, we won't lose any more of our friends and loved ones to cancer.
It was a beautiful morning. As I stood in my wetsuit, listening to Louie's friends talk about him before the race, I felt very calm. It's funny how when you're focused only on yourself, events like this can seem intimidating.... but when you're thinking about someone else and the challenges they faced, your insecurities seem fairly minor.
It was with this mindset that I got into the San Francisco Bay for the first time in my life. My previous attempts have involved putting a foot in the water and running out screaming. For those of you who don't know, the Bay is really really cold. Even in a wetsuit. But as I started stroking, I realized that I actually felt really comfortable in the water. The cold didn't bother me after I started moving, and it was nice that the water didn't have the same marshy taste and smell that the lagoon had. I stroked at a slow and steady pace, and occasionally looked up to make sure I was headed in the right direction. I could tell that there were a lot of swimmers ahead of me, but wasn't sure how many were behind me. When I got out, I looked back, wondering if I was the last swimmer (my usual position). It turned out that there was at least a handful of swimmers still in the water... progress!
I ran down to the transition area, peeling off my wetsuit on the way. I was wearing tri-shorts, which I could wear through all three events, so once I got my wet suit off, pulled on my bike jersey, and got my shoes on, I was pretty much ready to run out of the area with my bike. The 25-mile ride should have been fairly easy - it was a flat course a course that twisted and turned through the streets of Treasure Island. In reality, the streets were bumpy, my shorts didn't have enough padding, and my legs were more tired than I thought from the swim. My transition from the bike to the run was quick, and then I was completing the last 6 miles of the event. My run was slow, but felt fine. When I crossed the finish line, I felt (for the first time) that the Ironman might actually be possible.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Holiday Training
I found myself in Maryland during the holidays. It was great to see my parents, but the 15 degree weather quickly convinced me that my training would be done in the gym. And as I trained on varous exercise machines trying to get a decent workout, I gradually came to a realization which can be summarized as "This sucks". People like to complain about the cost of living in California (particularly people who don't live here), but the truth is that it should actually be WAY higher than it is... like maybe 10x the cost of living in places like Maryland. We get 4-5 months more of spending time outdoors and don't have to deal with cold weather / snow and all of it's associated problems. Now, I can accept that spending time outdoors isn't that big a deal to everyone. Some people really love indoor activities, like watching TV (which come to think of it, I did a lot of as a kid). But to me, the difference translates into the difference between doing activities I love like running marathons and training for this triathlon and watching "The Biggest Loser".
Fortunately, part of my vacation was spent on a cruise ship in the Caribbean (thanks Mom!). With the weather being a non-issue, I thought it would be easier to get some more intense training in. It turns out that cruise ships are not conducive to that. I did get daily exercise from training on machines while the ship was at sail. Also, Irene and I had a great run in the rain on St Kitts and I swam for an hour in the warm water off Grand Turk. All of that was easily negated by the vast quantities of food I did such a poor job resisting.
I've returned back to California now. I trained a lot, but I'm probably in somewhat worse shape than I was in before I left. The good part is that I'm definitely mentally fresher and happier after having a great vacation. I'm also more excited than ever about getting back into my training.
Fortunately, part of my vacation was spent on a cruise ship in the Caribbean (thanks Mom!). With the weather being a non-issue, I thought it would be easier to get some more intense training in. It turns out that cruise ships are not conducive to that. I did get daily exercise from training on machines while the ship was at sail. Also, Irene and I had a great run in the rain on St Kitts and I swam for an hour in the warm water off Grand Turk. All of that was easily negated by the vast quantities of food I did such a poor job resisting.
I've returned back to California now. I trained a lot, but I'm probably in somewhat worse shape than I was in before I left. The good part is that I'm definitely mentally fresher and happier after having a great vacation. I'm also more excited than ever about getting back into my training.
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