EverymanTri.com

Things that make me smile

All too often when I'm training I have a scowl on my face. This could be because, like this morning, I got up to run at a time when most sane people are still comfortably cuddled in their comfy beds. Or it could be because I'm pushing the pace beyond my normal comfort zone of an easy to moderate stroll. So I've come to really cherish those moments that make me smile. Here are just a few examples:

Cars that cross the center line when they pass me:

Whether I'm running or biking I always get a huge smile on my face when a car comes up from behind and actually crosses the center line to pass me. This not only makes me smile, but it makes me giddy with glee as this thoughtful move from the mysterious driver gives me enough room on my side of the road to feel safe and secure.

Thank you mystery drivers for being so considerate and thoughtful!

I sincerely appreciate your small but kind act. I hope someday, when you are out on the open road running or cycling, the idiot driver that scares the hell out of you by almost rubbing his or her side mirror against your elbow (even though there are no other cars within miles) gets a flat tire on a truck clogged highway with no shoulder and no cell phone coverage. Let's see how you like it when something like an eighteen wheeler that weights 1000 times more than them decides to play a cruel game of chicken.

Cyclists who stop and ask if you need help when you breakdown:

I'm so grateful to all of you great roadies, triathletes, and weekend warriors who stop and ask a stranded cyclist if he or she needs help. There are very few things that bring on that sinking feeling in my stomach faster having a mechanical breakdown or flat miles away from home. I'm usually tired and not really prepared for the changing weather when something bad breaks on my bike. And by bad I mean anything really. It is comforting to know that I'm not all alone out in the middle of nowhere.

And even if I can easily fix the flat, it makes me smile from one ear to the other when another cyclist stops and says, "Are you Ok?" or "Do you need a hand?" I'm Ok but thanks for watching out for my back.

Non elitist/purist Triathletes

In two weeks I'm racing a small little local triathlon that includes a 500 yard pool swim. I always smile inside when I tell somebody I'll be doing the Longmont triathlon and they don't look at me like I'm some rank amateur because I'm doing a triathlon with a "pool swim." All too often I hear these words, "I don't do race with a pool swim," or the opposite "I don't do open water swims." Can we all just all please agree that as long as water is involved somehow or someway (be that in a pool, lake, ocean, river or enormous hot tub) it is indeed a triathlon.

Water = Triathlon

No water = Duathlon

It really is that simple so let's not get all hung up about what holds the water. I really respect anyone who races a triathlon no matter how long or short of swim. There is just something special (it makes me smile) about starting a race with a swim instead of a run.

Encouraging words when being passed

I never does get old. Whenever somebody passes me on the bike or on the run and they say a few kind words of encouragement like, "You are going great," or "keep up the good work." I always smile like an idiot because I know that somebody else who is probably working harder than me has taken the time and energy to help me succeed.

You got to love that!

It's a kind of unwritten bond that says to me we're all in this race together, and while we may be racing I still want to see you do well.

Swimmers who know the basic rules of masters swimming

We have a guy at my masters class who shall remain nameless (actually I don't know his real name) but who has earned the nickname the professional. He has earned that nickname because he considers himself a professional on all matters of novice, masters, collegiate, world class, Olympic and even kiddie swimming. He tends enter the water like many of the former college swimmers do by running to the edge of the lane, jumping in feet first, and immediately swimming at a ferocious pace down to the other end of the pool.

Except that unlike the professional, all of the former college swimmers do not do this when I'm swimming toward then in the same lane as they bound into the water. The other day the professional almost jumped right on top of my head. It almost literally scared the piss out of me. It took a feat of super human pee control to keep me from polluting the pool.

So now I just smile when a non-professional swimmer simple slides into the water and asks me if I wouldn't mind sharing my lane.

Triathletes who know how to close a wet suit and leash

Ok, I admit that this may be something that is unique to me but it does make me smile. For the first time at my last race somebody actually knew how to close the flap at the top of my wet suit. As you may know it is almost impossible to close the top part of the wet suit (the flap that covers the zipper) by yourself. You need to have a nearby triathlete do it for you as you are about to start the race. Most triathletes don't zip the wet suit until the very start of the race as they would quickly sizzle in the suit. However it seems that most triathletes are at a complete loss as to the proper way to close a wet suit and leash. To my way of thinking there is only one proper technique. The following are problematic methods to zip close the wet suit and leash:

1. Velcro the top zipper flap closed and leave leash unattached and hanging down and tangling from the zipper. In this common scenario the leash will inevitably wrap itself around my neck when I begin to swim and try to choke me like a crazed python. I'll spend at least half of the swim trying to unwrap the cagey leash from my neck.

   
   

2. Velcro the top zipper flap closed with leash end sticking out of the top of the flap. This is another common method that people use that drives me crazy. With leash end under the flap but sticking out of the top, I always end up with a huge red wet suit love hickey kiss on the back of my neck. The top of the leash rubs against the back of my neck when I swim to such an extent that my wife thinks I've been making out with an octopus.

   
   

3. Velcro the leash under the flap but from the top instead of from the bottom. In this problematic method my friendly race day neighbor zips up my wet suit and takes the end of the leash and Velcros it under the flap with the end stuck under the top of the flap. This creates a sort of giant "O"out of the leash as the end stick under the flap from the top instead of the bottom of the flap. The result of this method is that not only will I end up with a wet suit hickey, but also the giant O leash is almost impossible to grab and pull at the end of the swim. It seems deafly defy my probing hands as I try to grab the leash to unzip the wet suit.
   

The only method that I find works for me is when the leash is closed under the flap from the bottom of the flap creating a sort of U with the leash. And when somebody actually does this for me I smile, and smile, and smile.

Newbies

Newbies always make me smile because you are the future of the sport. You guys read my grammatically challenged ramblings and you make me feel smart and in the know…which is something that always makes me smile.

So thank you Newbies for giving this crazy sport a whirl. You guys are great and I hope that if I ever have the chance to actually pass you in a race I'll say a few words of encouragement like "you are doing great" and hopefully put a smile on your face.

New Tri Rules

As Bill Maher is returning to HBO this week with his Real Time politically incorrect show, I thought I should come up with a few new tri rules of my own:

You can’t call yourself a cutting edge high-tech tri apparel company if you still sew labels into your clothing.

The other I bought this new tri short from a well-known brand that came with a clothing tag the size of a short novel. The tag explained how the short was made from this space age material using the latest in ultra-dry, ultra-cool ultra-expensive nanotechnology.

Except that about two minutes into my first run in the new shorts, the razor-sharp label stabbed itself into my back like Jack the Ripper on a Friday night bender in London.

Do the sports clothing companies actually test their apparel on real athletes, or do they just have the marketing weasels come up with a ultra this and that technology wording?

I’m betting on the marketing weasels as I’ve been spending a lot of time cutting labels out of my “so-called” high performance endurance apparel.

SlowTwitch.com and anybody else who writes a Blog or contributes to a triathlon forum must stop calling their Cervelo Sorrento, Bosso, and so on “Bike Porn”

Boys, boys, boys perhaps you need to Google the term “Porn” and see what a real woman looks like.

While a bike may be somewhat curvy and desirable, I would suggest that you try to take it to dinner, ply it with expensive wine and caviar, and escort it up to bed. Once you have it in bed, try doing those things that would make your mother blush to it, or with it, or on top of it, or however you can manage it, and you’ll soon realize why describing a bike as being pornographic is like French kissing your poodle.

Harvard must educate an entire new crop of running shoe scientist

Do you pronate or supinate or incubate? Clearly the only real science behind today’s running shoes goes into predicting the hottest color for next year.

For the longest time every running shoe company worked to develop the best shoe to pad, control, enhance, regulate, and support our "unnatural" tendency to pronate or suplinate when we run. That is until about a year ago when Nike came out with their new shoe called the "Free" which promises to build up your feet and muscles by providing zero support.

So what is the theory du jour? Complete support or zero support? Why don’t you call me when you actually apply some real science to the problem instead of spending your research budget on sponsering the tallest basketball player with the most gold around his neck!


Male professionals must stop wearing the man bra when they race

The Man Bro: it was very funny on Seinfeld when George’s dad suggest selling it as a wacky business plan. But who would have known that today’s top male professionals would actually wear the damn thing while racing.

I don’t care how fit you are boys, but you should know that the man bra is about as attractive as bike porn.

Women professionals must start wearing a G-String bikini when they race.

Look gals you are so close to wearing it already, why not pull the trigger and go all the way? The bottoms you already wear are just a snip or two away from being a G-String anyway so just go for it. Image how much cooler your butt would be in a ultra-high tech space age G-String race bottom. Now that’s the kind of nanotechnology that we all need to support.

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Sour Grapes

This is the last comment from Dave Miller from my recent swim rant below:

“Sounds like sour grapes to me. The people swimming over you most likely are not newbies, but faster, more experienced swimmers wishing you would get out of their way,”His comment got me to click on PhotoShop and go at it for a few more illustrative graphics.

You may want to stop reading right about here because my graphic talents are not even equal to that of my young son. As proof I offer up a recent drawing of his. So I would highly suggest that you just scroll down the page to a nice story about my recent Ironman that includes no PhotoShop graphics what so ever.

You’ve been warned!

This is the text of the email I just sent Dave: “Thanks for your comment. Sour Grapes…no not really. Actually I got boxed in by a group of swimmers of similar ability. I should have gone anaerobic and swam ahead of them, but I didn't think about that as I was swimming.

I just kept wondering why they kept slamming into me instead of swimming in clear water.”

To illustrate this point I’ve drawn another terrible graphic. You will notice that I’m red as a lobster because I’m steamed from being boxed in.

You will also notice that the real problem is really not with the Newbies. The problem is the Newbie who’s been swimming a year or two and now decides that they are the next Phelps or Spitz. These are the boys and gals who like to swim under, or over, or through, or on top of, other racers.

I think that true Newbies tend to be a little too intimidate on the swim to really go and mix it up in the “crunch.”

You’ll notice in the next auful graphic that I define the crunch as the area where everybody comes together as they head for the first buoy. It is the narrowest part of the funnel that forces swimmers (who all started pretty far apart) to come together to round the first buoy.

So if you look at the diagram carefully, you’ll also notice that the worst possible place to start the race (if you are a slower Newbie swimmer) is in a direct straight line with the first buoy.

Why?

Because everybody else in the entire race will eventually more into your swim line and you’ll be the person caught in the crunch. That’s why many coaches will advise Newbies to start on the outside to keep out of the crunch zone as long as possible.

But no matter where you start at some point you will end up in your own crunch zone. That is just what happens when you put several hundred, or thousand swimmers into any given body of water and pull ther trigger. In Austria I was drafting a good swimmer when I noticed that we were going to complete miss going around one of the buoys. We were in fact swimming right for a course marshal who was turning folks around to head back around the buoy.

I felt like I owed my drafting partner a heads-up on the situation so I sort of tapped his shoulder. He just kept on swimming. So I grabbed him by the waist (bad idea) to get his attention. He spun around in the water like an angry python and raised his fist to clobber me on the nose. It wasn’t until I pointed to the buoy that he understood and thanked me for stopping him.

Sometimes we all get a little too caught up in the moment and do stupid things in the heat of battle. That’s why I always try to remind before every race that you can’t win a triathlon on the swim.

Oh yea...I promise no more pitiful illustrations.

You can’t win a triathlon on the swim

So I’m going to keep this rant very short and simple.

But I’m still steaming from last week’s Stroke and Stride.

The Stroke and Stride is a 1500-meter swim followed by a 5-Kilometer run. I recently had one of the worst of swims of my short S and S career.

It seems like many Newbie triathletes have wrongly got it in their heads that swimming fast means swimming under, or over, or through, or on top of, other racers.

Listen up folks (and that especially means you three brain surgeons who boxed me in for a full 750 meter first loop last week): You can not win a triathlon on the swim.

Let me repeat that so you really get it: You can not win a triathlon on the swim!

You can lose a triathlon on the swim, but you’ll never win the race by swimming under, or over, or through, or on top of, other racers.

To illustrate my point I’ve drawn a very crude sketch.

You’ll notice how we were swimming last week by looking at the diagram below:

This is obviously not a good way to post a fast time.

Instead the pros will often work together on the swim.

See my crude sketch below (you'll also notice that many of the top pros have long noses as illustrated):

Pros will get on the toes of the leader and draft each other. This way they swim faster and come out of the water together and next to their competitors.

Why do they do this? Because they know that they you can’t win the race on the swim. So for the sake of all of us stop swimming under, or over, or through, or on top of, other racers. You'll only go slower.

Let’s be smart out there and take a page from the pros and work together, instead of turning the swim into the heavy duty wash cycle of your washing machine.

Dumb uck car ucks

Just like the Wheel of Fortune, please feel free to fill in your own consonant, or you can purchase an "F".

Everyman Triathlon Reader Warning:
This is a test of the emergency Everyman rant system. In the case of a real emergency (which this is) you will be told where to tune to for further updates. In this case you may consider visiting www.raceathlete.com for some of the web’s best endurance sports writers, bloggers and podcast.

Please note that you have been warned and the following is a serious rant not intended for younger or less mature readers.

There must be a special place in the deepest darkest inner circles of hell for car ucks. What is it about a dude or dudette on bike that brings out these ucks like flies to you know what.

Through years of cycling the public arteries of this vast country I’ve been able to place them into several different categories.

Honking Car ucks

So you are biking along, at a nice clip, on the side of the road, when some dumb uck car uck decides that this might be a good time to test his horn. Sitting behind the wheel of his or her highly insolated 6000-pound SUV the horn sounds like a far away mouse squeak. But to you it might as well be the blast of the Queen Mary departing on her first transatlantic journey.

Every time some dumb uck car uck decides to lay on the horn a few feet away from me, I nearly jump out of my skin. Are they being helpful or just dumb ucking stupid or ucking ignorant? I go with ucking ignorant because they certainly don’t lay on the horn every time they pass a pedestrian or stray raccoon. For some reason they feel the need to really scare the ucking piss out of me by blasting the horn as they pass.

Uck you too you dumb uck car uck!

Close ucking passing car uck

Let’s see the entire road in completely empty. The last thing that rolled down this particular country lane was a tumble weed in 1842, and yet the dumb uck close passing car uck feels the need to come within inches of my left elbow.

Here’s a fun game we can play you dumb car uck. What would happen if you really ran me off the road? Let’s pretend that your right side rear view mirror really did nail me at 45-mph, and I got sucked under your pick ‘em up truck.

How many ucking years do you think you’d spend in jail getting butt ucked by big furry faced Bubba? How many years would you spend having your wages garnered by my attorney’s before you’d even pay for the first day of my hospital stay.

You dumb car uck, you don’t think of that as you sit behind 6000 pounds of steal playing how close can I get to Mr. Goofy biker. Do you, you ucking uck?

Ucking barking Dog car uck

How cute is that? Your mongrel of a flea-bitten oversized rat likes to pop his head out of the passenger window just as you pass me and bark bloody murder. Here’s a suggestion for you...next time this happens why don’t you shut your passenger window, or better yet, why don’t you shut your dumb uck dog’s head in the passenger window? You can pull up on the window switch until your ucking mongrels eyes bulge out like two huge purple grapes.

I’m sure that it must be a complete surprise to you when your dumb uck dog lunges at every cyclist he sees as you drive down the road. I bet it puts a little smile on your face to see the startled cyclist as your dumb uck dog barks up a storm a few inches from the cyclist’s head.

You inconsiderate car uck. I hope that one day your dumb uck mongrel mistakes your late night boner for his favorite bone. Now I’d pay good money to seem him go to town on that bone.

This concludes the test of the Everyman Emergency rant system. We will return to our normally scheduled program tomorrow.

As a public service to your own sanity, please feel free to add you favorite type of dumb uck car ucks in the comments below.

That can't be good

Over the last several I’ve noticed some pretty odd race day antics and incidents. I’ve lived through a few myself, most notably the eight flats I had at my last Iron Distance race.

So with that in mind I’d like to point out a few true-life examples of stuff…That can’t be good.

So what possible horrible circumstances would cause a person to drop out of a race they’ve presumably spent months or perhaps years training for? Would it be the heat, or perhaps mechanical problems on the bike, or perhaps dehydration on the run?

If you guessed any of these, you would be wrong.

This is now the second year in a row that I’ve seen several competitors drop out of the Disney Half IM in about 23 seconds and/or 31 feet into the race. It’s actually pretty amazing thing to witness up close and personal.

The wave of some 300 ferocious competitors strains at the starting line to hit the water. You can actually feel the nervous tension and pent up energy about to explode. The racers have trained long and hard for this moment which they know will include a running start through the shallow part of the water before the 1.2-mile swim.

The starting gun fires (or horns sounds in Disney as they prefer not to startle the kiddies) and the wave of race-ready athletes explodes into the water with a mad dash for the deep stuff.

About 20 seconds into the race something odd appears at the rear of the pack. The gathered crowd voices a collective “OH OWE” as the fans notice two racers splashing around like the agitator in a Maytag washing machine. With a sudden flurry of activity the waiting rescue paddlers take flight to aid the distressed competitors.

Three seconds later they pull the struggling swimmers to safety (which would be about 2 feet back to the shallow water) as the rest of the pack begins the long race day. Twenty-three seconds into the race, their day is now officially over.

“So Jim,” asks a curious co-worker, “how did you do in Disney?”

Jim looks down, scratches his head and says in a low voice, “I had a bit of an issue on the swim.”

That can’t be good.

The place that I always see the most problems is on the bike. And after my eight flat ride at last year’s Great Floridian Triathlon I have more than just a bit of empathy for any racer with a flat tire.

But I’m also a bit amazed that some folks actually have a rather unique bike race strategy, which seems to consist of never-ever, ever and I mean ever, getting a flat tire.

This might actually be a workable solution if today’s wheels were still made of older types of materials like in the olden days. You know, wood or perhaps stone. But today’s “modern” wheels and tires do have the one disadvantage, that being that they occasionally get a flat.

Last year I was helping out at the Peak 5430 half IM on my motorcycle. My well defined job was to provide “any and all assistance” to bike riders as long as “any and all assistance” only meant giving them a ride to the next aid station. In other words, I was sweeping the course for any competitors that dropped out the race. I was specifically not allowed to render any sort of race assistance.

This was my typical conversation when coming upon a stopped racer.

Me: “Are you all right, can I give a ride to the aid station?”
Twenty something Hottie in a tight race suit: “Do you know how to change a tire?”
Me: “Yes.”
Hottie: “Can you please change my tire?” said with a semi-pouting smile and big round eyes on the verge of tears.
Me: “I’m sorry but I can’t do that, it against the rules for me to help you…but I’ll try to tell you how to change it yoursef.”
Hottie: “F…it! I’ll take the ride!” she said with an angry kick at the bike.

“That can’t be good,” I thought to myself as we roared off to the nearest aid station.

I’ve seen lots of very serious problems on the run. Most of them have to do with the leg muscles. It is certainly not uncommon to see racers squatting on the ground, or leaning against tree trying to stretch-out seized thigh or calves.

But by far the worst problems tend to be gastrointestinal. A good friend of mine, who for my own self-preservation (as you shall soon see) shall forever remain nameless, had such a problem on the run.

It was about mile 10 that I noticed a certain and distinct odor coming from somewhere on or near me. I could not place it, but it certainly didn’t smell like a field of fresh cut wild flowers.

At first I thought that perhaps my body had over-powered any deodorant I might still be wearing. I smelled and I sniffed the air, but it wasn’t until I noticed the distressed look on my friend’s face that I had a hint of what might be wrong.

As we just happened to be running together, I asked my friend if all was right. The clenched-cheek running style, along with the look on my friend’s face said it all. The look was indeed a very interesting mixture of rage, pain and shame.

“No I sorry but I do not have an extra pair of shorts,” I said to my friend as my friend dashed to the nearest bathroom.

As I watched my friend slam the port-at-potty door, I whispered, “That’s can’t be good, but at least my friend can finish the race…unlike the Maytag impersonators,” and ran on.

One Year and Still Counting

Well gang it has been one year since I began this crazy journey. Actually to be technically correct I didn’t really launch this web site until the end of summer, but I started writing exactly one year ago after having purchased this domain name.

At some point I also purchase another domain name. I’m the proud owner of www.bearbeware.com. Now I’m not really sure what I was thinking when I purchased bearbeware.com, but it does have a somewhat catchy ring to it.

If you have any ideas for what sort of a web site, and or business, bearbeware.com might eventually become, please feel free to pass along your suggestions in the comments below. Here are a few of my best current ideas.

BearBeware Technologies: The makers of the ultimate bear repellant spray
The BearBeware Group: Online stock market analysts for the bear market
BearBeware Insurance: Insurance for all forms of viscous or gentle bear attacks
BearBeware Potency Pills: Men you’ll be so potent that you’ll even scare the average she bear
BearBeware Hemorrhoid Lotion: So strong and powerful that you’ll soon feel beariffic.

Please feel free to add your own suggestions in the comments. Let’s put the bear before the cart for this business idea.

Over the last year I’ve made some great virtual and real friends, and I’ve spent way too much time away from work on this web site.

But sometimes playing hooky from work does pay (at least I hope it does) as I’m happy to announce that small publishing company found this web site and decided it was book worthy.

My first book entitled “My Training Begins Tomorrow” comes out this summer and will be available for purchase on this web site along with such smaller sites as Amazon.com and Barnes and Noble soon.
Hint Hint ;-)

Anyway, to help celebrate one year of EverymanTri.com here is the very first story I wrote exactly a year ago today.

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In the military they say that all the action happens at the tip of the spear. The sharply pointed end where the winners and losers are sorted out. For us newbie and amateur Clydesdale triathletes the tip of the race is only a distant skirmish. We live and race at the other end of spear; the round curvy end which, as it happens, tends to be shaped like many of us. These are some of our some of our stories:

They say that races are won or lost in the mind. Motivation, the eye of the tiger, and the will to push mind over body is what separates the winners from all the rest of the racers. With this in mind here are a handful of strategies that you may find useful in motivating you to push yourself beyond any perceived mental boundaries.

Proper Race Preparation:
I find that I’m much more able to really push myself during a race if I have done the hard work before the race. To this end, I must humbly confess that among my peers in the triathlon Mecca of Boulder, Colorado, there are few amateurs and pros alike that will out taper me before a race.

I like to start my taper at least a full month before the race. That way by race day I’m completely rested and up to the task. Sometimes I’m so calm and well prepared that I will completely sleep through the start of the race. Some may see this as a disadvantage, but I only consider myself that much more tapered and prepared for the next race.

Nutrition:
As most know nutrition is the key to a winning time. For this reason I like to start my carbo loading, like my taper, at least a month before the race. Why wait until the night before the big event to load up on the pasta? Start early and you’ll have that much more of an edge and energy on race day.

Race Day Strategies:
I have a few simple strategies that I like to use when racing. These are free tips that you are welcome to use to really take your racing to the next level.

The Swim:
The fastest pros and amateurs know that drafting is surest way to a fast swim time. For this reason I like to scope out my competition at the start of the race. How is this possible? I’m sure you’ll believe me that a Clydesdale in a wet suit does make a remarkable impression of a Milwaukee sausage and is thus not hard to spot.

Once I have identified my competition I make it a point to get in front of as many other Clydesdales as possible to provide them a great drafting opportunity. When I have at least a twelve pack of Clydesdales drafting me I tend to get lost or weave like a drunk on a bike. A slow left of right turn, or perhaps a quarter turn too far around the buoy does the trick. Once my drafting group is completely confused I stop, let them pass, and bring it on home.

The Bike:
The bike is always the longest part of any race. This is why it is crucial that you employ a few simple mind games to get you to the run as fast as possible. Here are a few of my mind strategies that keep me fast and motivated.

I will never let the following racers pass me:

1. Guys wearing only Speedos. Nobody wants to look at a hairy butt for the next 20 miles.

2. Racers wearing Camelbacks. Do I really need to say any more?

I will always let the following racers pass me:

1. Big girls on mountain bikes. These gals are surprisingly fast.

2. Girls wearing skimpy race suits. Do I really need to say anymore?

The Run:
You’ve made it this far and now the race really begins. It’s gut-check time. Do you have it in your mind? Do you have it in your Quads? Can you push yourself harder and break the tape in record time. These are the questions you ask yourself at the tip of the spear.

At the butt of the spear it’s party time. The quads have long ago checked out, the calves have seized up like a vise grip, and the prospect of running is almost too silly to contemplate. Now is the time for a leisurely walk, have a friendly chat with the fellow strollers, and really enjoy the last part of the race. If you have done your job on the swim and the bike your competitors are strolling somewhere far behind. Now it is just a matter of walking a few miles before you can start your next taper.

A coach, a carrot, an egg, and a cup of coffee

A good friend of mine recently sent me the story below with a preface saying “I don’t forward most of these sorts of things, but I liked this one.”

Well gang...I don’t usually post most of these sort of things but I took the liberty to change this one around a wee bit ;-) and now I kind of like it, and I hope you do as well.

A triathlete went to her coach and told her about her training and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of all the training, the pain, the early hours and fighting her body. She was struggling in the water, hurting on the bike and, suffering during the run. It seemed as one problem was solved, a new one arose.

Her coach took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water and placed each on a high fire. Soon the pots came to boil. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans.

She let them sit and boil; without saying a word.

In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl.

Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl. Turning to her triathlete, she asked, "Tell me what you see."

“Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.

Her coach brought her closer and asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft.

The coach then asked the triathlete to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hard boiled egg.

Finally, the coach asked the triathlete to sip the coffee. The triathlete smiled as she tasted its rich aroma.

The triathlete then asked, "What does it mean, coach?"

Her coach explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity: boiling water. Each reacted differently.

The carrot went in strong, hard, and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it softened and became weak.

The egg had been fragile. Its thin outer shell had protected its liquid interior, but after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened.

The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water, they had changed the water.

Which are you?" she asked her triathlete. "When things get hard, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

Think of this: Which are you?

Are you the carrot that seems strong, but with pain and adversity do you wilt and become soft and lose your strength?

Are you the egg that starts with a malleable heart, but changes with the heat?

Did you have a fluid spirit, but after a struggle, some pain or some other trial, have you become hardened and stiff? Does your shell look the same, but on the inside is it bitter and tough with a stiff spirit and hardened heart?

Or are you like the coffee bean? The bean actually changes the hot water, the very circumstance that brings the pain. When the water gets hot, it releases the fragrance and flavor.

If you are like the bean, when things are at their worst, you get better and change the situation around you.

When the hour is the darkest and trials are their greatest, do you elevate yourself to another level? How do you handle adversity?

Are you a carrot, an egg or a coffee bean?

Or is the the moral of this story, as Nancy so wisely pointed out, that we all need to spend more time in the Hot Tub?

Please feel free to add your own moral.

Things that make you go hmmm

A) The incident of the hairy butt, bench and hairdryer

I was in the locker room of my health club yesterday when I couldn’t help but notice a guy sitting on a bench wearing only a smile while blow drying his toes.

He had obviously just taken a shower, as he was wet from head to drying toe. I’m not really sure what caught my eye first. Was it the fact that his hairy naked butt was sitting on the bench I had just used a few moments prior, or the fact that he was using the hairdryer I would soon need for my hair...on his feet?

I guess this is a question of “touchage,” actually two questions to be precise. His hairy and hopefully clean butt was obviously touching the bench.

Question # 1:
Is it wrong to sit on a bench without placing a towel between your privates and the clubs publics…the bench? And does it matter that the aforementioned privates are clean if they are still in direct contact with public (read communal) property?

Question # 2:
Is it wrong to use a public hairdryer on other parts of your body, specifically the wet area between your toes. And does it matter if the aforementioned hairdryer actually touches the toes?

Because you argue that if indeed the end of the hairdryer never touched the toes or feet, it doesn’t really matter. Because, for the most part, the hairdryer does not touch the hair when used as advertised.

I don’t know the answers to these question but they did keep me up last night for almost two and a half minutes so I though I would share them with you for a public discussion to sort out the truth once and for all. Please feel free to comment. I would love to know your thoughts.


B) The incident of one whisper too many

I’m sure that we can all agree that it is just wrong to pee in the pool and in the shower, especially if these are public pools and showers that are used by other. If you don’t agree please let me know so that I can be sure to avoid your pool in all my future travels.

But this particular issue is much more subtle. I was swimming this week in my usual masters class, in my usual slow lane, with the usual suspects. I’ve become casual friends with the guys and gals in my lane and to break up some of time we like to have fun and tease each other.

So the other day I notice that two of the gals are whispering and giggling as I approach the wall. Being somewhat curious, I of course asked what’s so funny. One of the gals gives the other one a look like should I tell him and says “Debbie (let’s call her that for the purpose of this story) just tinkled in the pool and you’re standing in it.” They both laughed and swam down the lane for the next set.

Questions #1:
Did Debbie really tinkle in the pool or were they just having a go at me. Please keep in mind that Debbie is about my age with kids of her own.

Question #2:
Next time I see them should I stop, squat and pretend to tinkle by the warm water outlet and really make it seem real thus a) having a good go at them, and b) running the risk of potentially forever gaining the reputation as the guy you never want to have in your lane?

Your wise comments and suggestions would be greatly appreciated.

Why Do You Tri?

When you really think about it, life is a suicide mission. In the end nobody survives. You can’t get away from this fact no matter how far you swim, how far you bike or far you run.

So why do you swim, bike and run? Why do you tri?

Have you ever sat down and thought about why you like this sport so much. What is it about triathlon that makes you so passionate in the embrace of this jealous mistress? Here are a few reasons why I believe that she completely owns so many hearts.

On demand lives

Modern life has become simpler, easier and more convenient. There are very few basic necessities that most of us can’t have at any given time of day or night. Are you bored? Just rent a movie or watch it on demand anytime of day or night. Are you hungry? Well Taco Bell is now open 24/7 as are 4000 thousand other restaurants. Are you cold or hot? Turn up or down the thermostat and go back to your taco while watching the latest Hollywood blockbuster.

But in just case you are getting a bit bored with all this convenience, there is nothing like triathlon to add a bit of adventure and spice to your everyday life. Because no matter how much you may want it, you won’t be able to get up tomorrow and cover 140.6 miles. You won’t be able to do it without a lot of struggle and sacrifice. Indeed you’ll most likely have to change your diet, your schedule, your priorities, your mentality and your body before you can even think about showing up at the starting line.

But I suspect the real secret that many triathletes will eagerly share is that a simpler, easier and more convenient life…is by no means a better life.

Hidden Secrets

Can you keep a secret? Yes, well the reason that I don’t eat these fries is because I’m in training for my next race. It’s a secret that I tend to keep to myself, close to me heart and it keeps me smiling and it makes me feel special inside as I look around the restaurant. Sure I want the fries but I want a PB in my next race more.

Remote Control

Life has a way of kicking you when you are down…and there’s precious little that you can do about it. How do you really battle a tumor or a genetic flaw or a virus or a your best friends diabetes? How do you really fight the good fight when you don’t have the tools, skill, knowledge or experience? How do you control the uncontrollable?

You control what little you can and hope and pray for the rest. You get up in the morning and dedicate yourself to climb this mountain or that, for yourself or for your friend or your family.

Why? Because you do have these tools, skill, knowledge and you can get the experience to impose some manner of direct control over this particular mountain. And you hope that you’ve brought some hope, strength and joy to this particular day in your life. And perhaps set an example that you can follow for tomorrow’s tomorrow when you know that life will again kick you when you are most down.

The Joy of Living

The muscle contracts because a signal from the brain traveled down a nerve in a fraction of second. The muscle remembers this move because it has done it time and time again. Indeed it has worked in close harmony with countless other muscles and nerves and arteries and blood cells to propel the body forward. The heart pumps and all over the body hundreds of thousands of miniscule chemical reactions separate and combine atoms and create the energy needed for just this one muscle to move.

It all comes together is a symphony of motion and movement. A perfect balance of fluid dynamics that puts a huge smile on my face as the sweat runs down my nose. This is what it feels like to be completely alive. As my heart pounds in my chest, and my lungs struggle for every atom of air, I know that I have been blessed to be able to use this body to its fullest and best ability. I know the joy of living because I see and feel it in wonderful glorious sweaty Technicolor.

The Agony of Defeat

How do you cheat the death? You can’t, but you can certainly keep it waiting while you go on with your life. The secret is going on with your life.

Because life after all is my suicide mission so that’s why I will live it like I know and believe this to be true. I will embrace it for all the joy and pain that it has to offer. I will find my mountains and climb them for myself my friends, and family.

I will seek out that which is hard and avoid that which is easy. I will forget the convenient and embrace the struggle. I will take joy in this body that God created so perfectly. I will use this body to the fullest of its potential while God allows me to have the strength and will to do so. And I will keep this an open secret next to my heart. But I will gladly share it with anybody who asks for I always prefer to run with a buddy than run alone

This is why I swim, bike and run. Why do you tri?

Behind every great Ironman is an Ironsherpa

Do you get goose bumps watching the finish of an Ironman? You know that terrific late night drama of the finishing line as the Everyman competitors funnel in running, walking, stumbling or even crawling across the line to the cheers of the crowd. It is one of the best moments of any triathlon, no matter what the distance. When you can actually witness the human will overcome all obstacles in vivid Technicolor.

But what really gives me goose bumps is the wild crowd of cheering well wishers. Because I know that this crowd is filled with the heroic stories of the Ironsherpa that made the finishers race possible.

Who is your Ironsherpa? All triathletes have one.

An Ironsherpa is the person in your life who carries your load so that you can train and race. It can be your husband or wife. It can be your mother or father, sister or brother or perhaps your best friend.

An Ironsherpa is that person in your life who puts up with all your triathlon talk, who rubs your sore muscles, who cooks your recovery meals, who makes your bed on those early mornings, who takes the kids to school so you can swim, who understands why you prefer a long run to a good movie, who does not mind your constant dress code of workout clothes, who goes to the bike store with you and smiles politely while you discuss the merits of this or that wheel, who gives up his or her vacation plans around your race schedule, who washes your smelly socks, who buys your protein powder, who puts up with your bike lust, who works while you play, who makes your pre-race peanut butter and jelly sandwich, who took up running because you run, who understands why you are too tired, who understands why you really really need to ride today, and who stands in the crowd cheering you on as you cross the finish line.

An Ironsherpa is that person in your life who really deserves all the glory but instead gets most of the toil.

During my last iron distance race I came face to face with the incredible virtues that really make Ironsherpas so wonderful. The 2005 reat Floridian Triathlon (GFT) was held just about a dozen hours before Hurricane Wilma slammed into the Southwest side of Florida. It was a small miracle that the race was even put on. But the looming hurricane and last minute planning didn’t make for a smooth race. Many of the volunteers who work the aid stations either didn’t show up or left earlier.

Probably the best know feature of the GFT is a substantial climb on the bike course called Sugarloaf Hill. Sugarloaf is no picnic to climb and worse yet it comes toward the end of both bike loops. The summit of Sugarloaf is also a popular place for Ironsherpa to watch and cheer their friends and families. It is also one of the most anticipated, if not the most anticipated, aid stations on the entire 140.6 mile course.

During the 2005 GFT a small group of Ironsherpa showed up at the summit of Sugarloaf a little after the start of the race. To their surprise, the aid station was set-up but nobody was there to work it. The aid station crew never showed-up and thus the station sat partially stocked, but almost completely abandoned. So being true Ironsherpa these fine folks rolled-up their sleeves and worked the aid station for the entire nine plus hours of the bike portion of the race.

What’s more incredible, when the aid station ran out of water, some of the Ironsherpa drove to a nearby quickie mart and purchased a couple of cases of water, and kept handing them out to those of us still on the course.

These words can’t really express how grateful I was to have water at the top of Sugarloaf. Especially after many of the prior aid stations were long abandoned and completely dry.

I have my own special personal story of Ironsherpa gratitude. That's one reason why I'm just as happy being an Ironsherpa as an Ironman.

During my first half iron distance race I had a “bit” (quote unquote) of a problem on the run. It was extremely hot (90 plus) by the time I got to the run course. To make matters wirse there was not a tree or bit of shade.

I had drunk enough on the bike, or so I thought, that I didn’t need that bottle of now warm Gatorade I had left behind at the transition area. In fact I felt fine, so when I started on the run I decided to forgo the first two aid stations.

By the third aid station at mile three I was getting a bit thirsty so I drank two heaping cups of water. The problem was that these cups were those little Dixie cups that we used in grade school. Two cups equaled about 4 ounces of water.

I kept up this “hydration plan” for the next several miles on the scorching run course. By about mile eight I was walking, and by mile ten I was getting tunnel vision. I was extremely dehydrated and worse yet I didn’t know it. But my Ironsherpa knew it. With her help, encouragement, and guidance, I got the immediate medical attention I needed.

Now I realize that I was so far out of it that I was in no way thinking or acting rationally. I was very sick and ready to pass out, but I just wanted to keep going. It took only about 20 minutes in the ambulance before the IV Hydration kicked in, and I was back to normal. Funny thing is that I still wanted to go back out on the course and finish the last three miles of the race. It took a while for me to realize just how close I had come to doing some real damage to my body.

So feeling dejected, foolish, and completely stupid for having been such an idiot to let myself get so dehydrated that I dropped out of my first half Iron distance race, I sulked home to my wonderful Ironsherpa.

Instead of reminding me of how stupid and dangerous my lack of hydration had been, she took me out for a entire family victory celebration ice cream Sundae. As we sat in the local Dairy Queen eating the coldest and best Sundae of my life, she turned my train wreck of a race into a huge family accomplishment. She made the very best lemonade out of my sour basket of lemons.

So that’s why when I watch the finish line of any triathlon I get goose bumps. For I know that behind every great Ironman is a greater Ironsherpa.

The Fountain of Youth

This morning I was standing on line at my favorite bagel shop when I overheard the following conversation between two avid elderly and most likely retired runners.

man: “So what did the doctor say?”

women: “She said that I need to stop running for a few months to let my feet recover.”

man: “I know that’s going to be hard for you to do.”

women: “The doctor suggested that I take-up swimming. She’s a triathlete and that’s what she does.”

man: “How old is your doctor?”

women:“I think she’s in her thirties”

man: “No wonder, wait until she’s 79 like you.”

At this point I jumped into the conversation and said, “I think swimming is great exercise, best of all it doesn’t beat up your body like running. You should consider it as a alternative to running.”

Both of them looked at me like I had just suggested that they take a stroll to the moon. It’s a look I’ve seen before. It says you must be crazy, do you know how old I am and wait until you are my age and some young wiper snapper makes such a crazy comment.

I suppose taking up swimming at the age of 79 is pretty tough. On the other hand I swim with an 80-year-old women who started seriously swimming only a couple years ago. But isn’t that really the other definition of getting old? Not the definition that is measured by years, but the one that is measured by attitude. Don't we all get more conservative as we get older?

I looked up conservative in the dictionary and here’s the definition: “Favoring traditional views and values; tending to oppose change. Moderate and cautious”

I think that we all get conservative as we get older. I’m not talking about the political definition but the personal and emotional one. It becomes much more difficult for us to change our views and try new things. We have a lifetime full of experience, social expectations and emotional scabs that prevents us from taking the plunge into something new.

For instance my young son just took up boogie boarding when we were in Hawaii. We went to the beach, he saw the waves, and the other kids playing in the surf, and he threw himself into the ocean. A few hours later he was riding the waves like an old hand.

But for me it was harder. I knew what those big waves could do if I got it wrong. I didn’t want to look silly out there, and I certainly didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of my family and the locals. I had a lifetime of experience and fear to over come, which I did.

And I’m happy to report that the first big wave picked my up, slapped me around like an angry pimp, pulled off my swim trunks, and spat me out, butt naked, on the shore in front of my family and half the population of the big Island. But I rode the next one….after I quickly pulled up my shorts and washed the sand out of my butt.

My friend Fred likes to say that “Time wounds all heals.” And yes I’m still a bit traumatized from being so forcibly strip searched in front of the entire beach. But I figure my family has seen me naked and hopefully the locals thought I was some misguided German tourist.

I think that’s why I like competing in triathlons so much. It is seriously hard to be personally conservative and be a triathlete. The sport has a way of pulling you out of your comfort zone.

For example, it’s not too much of a stretch to be a collegiate swimmer or runner and compete in a masters level race. You spent your entire childhood on the track or in the pool, so what’s so hard about racing when you turn thirty something?

But with triathlon you don’t have the luxury to just run and swim. You also have to bike. And since the sport is still new there are very few if any thirty something’s triathlete that competed when they were young.

That means that by definition most age-group triathletes picked up the sport, or a least parts of the sport, later in life. And to me that means that we are not personally conservative. Or if you want to flip over the coin and look at the other side, it means we have found the fountain of youth.

Funny thing this search for the fountain of youth. People have been looking for it as long as people have been around. And for just as long other people have been making a living selling youth to those seeking it.

The pharmaceutical would have you believe that youth can be bottled and put into a little blue pill that makes your wee ready to whoopee.

The doctors would have you believe that youth can be restored with a scalpel, and nip here and a tuck there, and a few ounces of silicone placed in the proper locations.

The diet purveyors would like you to believe that you can find youth by only eating meat or vegetables, or fruits that begin with the letter z, or avoiding all carbs on the first, third and seventh leap year, eating only happy fish, or it is sad broccoli?

The cosmetic industry would like you to believe that you can apply youth to your skin by the ounce from a potion made of the bones of the Humuhumunukunuku fish and combined in a sterile lab with seaweed and peanut butter.

The travel gurus want you to know that youth and happiness can be found in the glossy brochures of their packaged holidays to the sun trenched islands of the Bahamas, or the warm Caribbean waters of the Gulf of Mexico.

The mall operators want you to know that youth can be found in the music filled stores and shops in the open and safe shopping arcade.

The ancient Orientals would like you to believe that you can restore your youth and vigor by snacking on a diet of tiger penis, shark fins and rhino horns.

The tobacco industry want you to know that youth can be found in the wispy cool and refreshing smoke of a menthol cigarette.

But we know that that’s all a bunch of Madison Avenue magic.

I believe youth can’t be leased, bartered or bought. It’s free for the taking as long as you are willing to take it. And that’s why I really love triathletes and sport of triathlon. We’re a small community of athletes who have taken up the challenge to stay young in both body and mind.

We have shared attitude that life is for living. Given the choice of watching the tiger pass by or taking it by the tail, we choose the tail. And in this struggle, I believe we end up somewhere quite unexpected. We end up at the fountain of youth. (and no it is not in Florida)

OK, so sometimes we end up butt-naked on the beach with sand up our ass but I figure that’s a small price for the fountain of youth.

New Year Etiquette Rant

The other day, while my back was turned and I was asking the sales clerk a question, a small round man absconded with my shopping cart. He just grabbed it and scurried away like a fat hungry weasel with a juicy chicken. So for all the fat hungry weasels in the world, here’s my New Years etiquette rant.

Swimming

There is no passing in lap swimming. When you share a lane you really have only two choices. 1) Spit the lane or 2) Share the lane. When you share the lane don’t pass, because until they invent underwater rearview mirrors, I have no idea that you are coming.

There is no mid-lane parking in swimming. If you are halfway down the lane, you should either be swimming or recovering from a cramp. Save the “my cat barfed-up the biggest hairball last night” discussion for the hot tub.

There is no underwater treasure in the pool. I know that you can find the some of the strangest stuff at the bottom of the pool. From old gum to funky hairballs to water soaked Band-Aids to what I hope are dead bugs and small creatures of all sorts to much funkier stuff. Don’t point this out to me. I’ve also seen the dead furry thing out of the corner of my eye and I’m also trying to keep my lips closed as hard as possible.

There is no lane splitting in swimming. When you share a lane stick to your side of that lane. If you find it hard to stay on one side I have two words for you: “Open” and “Water”

There is no road rage in the pool. Accidents will happen. If by chance when I’m doing the fly and you are doing the breast stroke, and we pass in a tight lane and I happen to slap you in the ass, and you happen to kick me in the crotch, just keep going. Perhaps we mutter a few words of apology but these things happen in lane swimming. I really didn’t mean to grab your ass and you really didn’t mean to kick me in the crotch. We both should know this and not use it to start a fight or long term romance.

If you have long hair, wear a swim cap. This goes for both gals and guys. Have you ever had a 4-foot long slimy hair wrap itself around your neck, through your mouth and up your nose while swimming? I have and I can promise you that you won’t make your interval or even finish your lap when you are caught in the tentacles of the human hair squid.

Cycling

No farmers wipe when drafting. Ok I know that it is almost impossible to properly blow your nose when you are biking. And at he same time, the nose does tend to really run on those cold bike rides. But if you are part of a draft line don’t even think about blowing your nose over your shoulder.

You better be able to ride like Lance if you dress like him. If you are wearing the matching Discovery Channel or T-Mobile shorts and jersey with a $300 aero helmet and riding a $5000 carbon fiber Madone, you better be fast. Word to the wise: There’s nothing that stands out more on a bike then a rich guy with skinny legs.

If you don’t know how to draft, then don’t draft. Drafting and bike handling are skills that take time and effort to learn. Don’t just jump on my back wheel on a whim because I happen to be a big guy and I easily break the wind (or perhaps just break wind). You never know….do you? Why? Because if you get it wrong we will both pay the price. If you want to draft, just ask.

Help others cyclist by the side of the road. We are a small band of fellow riders compared with the big world of cars and trucks. If you can help fix a flat or supply a spare air canister to a fellow cyclist you’ll be earning some big karma points. Because you know that one-day that will be you sitting on the side of the road.

Ride single file. For some reason people driving cars a hell bent to kill a cyclist. Don’t give them a reason to hate us even more.

Fat Hungry Weasel Drivers. The next time you feel the need to pass leaving me with about two millimeters to spare, I hope you get an extended visit from tiny, horny and extremely itchy anus worms. I hope these hell bent anus itchers set-up a homestead in your rectum and breed and multiply, like bunnies on a sunny and grassy knoll in springtime.

Running

There is passing on the track. Keep to the outside lane on track when you are running slow or walking. For all you drivers out there this may seem like a strange and foreign concept (I know you like to drive in the left lane at 55 with you turn signal on) but on the track let the faster runners pass on the inside lane.

Dogs like to sniff in the funniest places. If you have a dog, please keep it under control. While I love dogs, I would prefer to take it out to dinner and movie or two before we really get to know each other that well.

Dogs like to sniff in the funniest places. If you don’t have a dog please don’t get too mad. While I try to keep my dog under control sometimes it will just jump the gun and go for what human might consider an in appropriate sniff. I truly apologize and I hope you understand that this is not something I encourage or do without a dinner and movie or two.

Just say "Hi". I like to acknowledge my fellow runners with a “Hey” or a “Hi” when I’m out on the trials. After all running is such a solitary sport most of the time. So unless you are really seriously training to win the Boston marathon just say “Hi” back. I understand that you are serious about your running, but you can say “Hi” back because I doubt you’ll won’t win the Boston marathon at a ten minute pace. And if you are a bit out of shape you won’t have a heart attack by uttering the word “Hi’ back to me.

“Hi” and Happy New Year!