EverymanTri.com

Ironman or Ironfit ?

You spent your entire year (or is it life) training to get to this one precious moment in time. The first time you saw it on television you were amazed and bit mystified as to why people would spend so much time and effort for this single moment. As time passed and you had some success in your racing, you began to better understand the significance of this moment and perhaps dream of one day hearing those magic words (insert your name here)….you are an Ironman.

And now you are an Ironman.

And now what?

Sure, you’ll probably spend the next two days eating and sleeping and replaying the day’s events in your mind. You’ll probably always remember how good and salty that warm chicken broth tasted on the last few miles of your marathon.

You’ll most likely never forgot how hard it was to start a marathon after 112 mile bike ride. How heavy and tired your legs felt, and how you could not even image running for the next 4 to 6 hours as the sunset and the day turned into night.

You also remember the early morning start as you walked into the water full of nervous tension knowing that you “only” had 140.6 miles to go before you were done. Will you recall looking around at all the other faces as they looked back into your eyes wondering the same thing?

Or perhaps you’ll remember the salty taste of your own sweat as it rolled down your forehead, over your nose and onto your lips as you peddled away in the areo position for 112 miles. Or will you remember how you had to force down that 10th GU or 5th Powerbar, even though your stomach clearly gagged at the mere thought of eating?

Will you recall all those straining faces that you passed or that passed you? Will you remember the kind hands all the great volunteers handing you more food and drink as you just kept going…even though your body and mind were screaming at you to stop.

You’ll probably tell your friends and family that you finished in this or that many hours and hopefully they will be impressed. They probably won’t really get it, as they weren’t there with you on those countless early morning hours in the pool. Or on those long century rides or lonely 18-mile training runs on cold Saturday mornings. But you’ll always know the pain and the pleasure, the very high highs and the bottomless lows, the terror and the boundless joy and that’s what really matter in the end.

And now what?

I have a really sweet little secret I’ll be happy to share with you. For me being an Ironman isn’t really all that important. Sure it may be the cherry on top of the cake but the real treat is being Ironfit.

I walk around all day with this sweet little secret that I know, keep to myself and treasure. It’s not something that I tell people because the telling is not important. The knowing is what’s really important.

For instance, I know that I can run 14 miles at a drop of a hat and not feel all that tired or even winded. I know this because I just did it the other day and I felt so great afterwards that even raced a short indoor tri the next day.

I think back to just a few short years ago, when the thought of running 10K or 6.2 miles seemed like a huge achievement. Every year I would train long and hard to run the local 10 K race, and afterwards it seemed like I had just climbed Mount Everest.

And of course running a 10k race still is a great achievement, but from my Ironfit perspective a 10K is an easy mid week run. This doesn’t make me any better of person; it just makes me happy and warm inside to know that I’ve come such a long way.

For instance, I know that I can swim 10K today. I know this because a few years ago I did it as part of an open water long course race when I was worse shape than I am in now.

BTW: Here’s a funny story from that race. Open water swim rules don’t allow you to wear a wet suit or anything other than a swimsuit and goggles. You also get a support boat. You are allowed to eat and drink, but you can’t hold on to the boat or touch the bottom when you stop swimming to take on nutrition. This means that your support person can throw you food and drinks, but you can’t touch the boat to get them.

I thought that I was being really clever when I invented my swimming nutrition buoy. Basically I duct taped a Gatorade and Ice Tea bottle on a pull buoy and tied a rope around the entire thing. This way (I thought) my support person could through me the drinks and pull them back with the rope. This part worked.

Unfortunately I had never tested my nutrition buoy. The first time I tried to drink the Gatorade, I immediately began to sink and of course let got of the bottle top. Now I had no way to close the bottle. So when my crew pulled it back to the boat, I had a new Gatorade formula that was half Gatorade and half dirty lake water.

But I digress; I did eventually finish the swim at bit dehydrated in just over 4 hours. The good news is that the thought of a “mere” 2.4-mile swim today seems like a walk in the park.

And in a way that’s really the point to being Ironfit. It means that I know I can swim, bike, or run a pretty crazy distance and not feel tired or worn out. More importantly, I think, no… I know, that it also means that I have more energy and drive in the other parts of my daily life. It has become a lifestyle choice for me because I get so much more out of it than I put in.

I could spend 10 hours a week watching television or reading a book, but instead I spend it swimming, biking and running. And the really great trick is that I still have time to read, write, and watch television.

Why? Because I spend a lot less time being sick, because I sleep better, because I eat better, because I can concentrate better at work, because my mind stays sharp, and my emotions stay level, and because I get so much more joy out of life that I have so much more I can share.

So now what?

My next race is Ironman Austria this summer, but really (between you and me) I’m looking forward more to the journey than to the destination.

Racing beyond the finish line

Why do you race?

Ironman Michael Stone races for a young girl in New Zealand who spends more time in the hospital in one year than you or I will mostly likely spend in a lifetime. The clock of her life span ticks away at twice or even three times the usual rate. This brave young girl has Cystic Fibrosis, a terrible genetic disorder that robs her of her life's breath at a very early age.

Cystic Fibrosis is also the official charity of the New Zealand Ironman, which is just few short days away. On a recent afternoon I sat down with Michael Stone and asked him about the race, his charity and about what it is like to race for something beyond just the finish line.

If you are also interested in racing in 2006, for something beyond just the finishing line, I would highly recommend that you visit Michael's charity and learn about how you can contribute to a great cause of your own choosing.


The Active Awareness Fund is a non-profit that allows you to race and at the same time raise money for your favorite charity. It is a great organization that's building a community of like minded triathletes. Please visit Michael's web site to get an early start on spreading the joy beyond our little world.

In the meantime sit back and relax and listen to this great preview of the 2006 Ironman New Zealand. Not only will you learn about Michael's young friend but you'll also get a great perspective on the race from someone who has finished it three times.

Just click the play tab below, or click on the link to the MP3 file and download it to your favorite iPod or MP3 player.


MP3 File

Code 45

Sometimes the triathlon gods (small g) like to send subtle messages.

You can listen and obey, or you can stubbornly keep going and pay the price.

So I got up way early to go to my first a.m. masters class in a few months. Now that I’m about 20 weeks out from my next IM, I'm starting to get a bit more serious about my training.

I had almost forgotten how hard it is to jump out of a warm bed into a cold pool. In fact, I probably have forgotten since when I arrived at the health club, I arrived sans swim gear.

Don’t you hate it when you spend all that mental energy to just get your butt out of bed and to the pool, only to get there and not be able to swim? It is the worst of both worlds. Not only do you miss your workout, but you also miss that really great early morning sleep.

So now I’m both tired and pissed-off at myself. I plop down on the bench and think about my options. I could go to the lost and found and “borrow” a swimsuit and goggles from the lost pile. This option appeals to me until remember the secret underground swimsuit Mafia at my health club.

I can’t prove this, but I believe that someone or some group is trafficking in used swimsuits at my club. Too many times I have forgotten my blue Speedo swimsuit in the locker room only to have it not end up in the lost and found. Low and behold a few weeks later there is some big guy in the lane next wearing a slightly used blue Speedo. Is it my Speedo? I have no way of proving it except to give him one of those long Larry David looks from Curb Your Enthusiasm. And since I’m usually not wearing my glasses when I swim, I can never really see the other guy’s reaction.

Needless to say, the thought of some big guy giving one of these looks this morning as I’m wearing a “borrowed” lost and found swimsuit fills me with dread. Besides it would sort of be like borrowing anonymous used underwear and that is just not my style…no matter how much chlorine is in the water.

Just as I’m about to head home I notice that I have my running gear in my bag. So if you can’t swim, you might as well run, I figure and head up to the treadmills.

My luck has changed. I’m just in time and on the right day for the morning treadmill speed workout. My club has a coached group treadmill speed workout that meets twice a week. The coach reserves a small number of treadmills and teaches the workout as a group.

My lucky day, I think to myself, as there is one treadmill open. Coach Mo says I’m welcome to join the group and I jump on the treadmill feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Maybe I didn’t waste my morning after all? About 5 minutes into the warm up the treadmill shudders, burps and stops. The display reads “Code 45.”

Code 45…what the hell is a Code 45? Is it some secret code that means “this dude is way to big and heavy for me” or “you know you must be pretty thick that you just don’t listen.”

Coach Mo gives the treadmill a stern look and hits the reset switch. It buzzes back to life with glowing red light glee. I push the start button and increase the speed. When I get past six mph the treadmill shudders, burps and stops and again says “Code 45”

Coach Mo resets it and it dies again just past 6 mph. Now you can’t really do a very speedy speed work out below 6mph so you’d think that I’d get the message. But being a stubborn triathlete I’m now hell bent to get in a work out.

Coach Mo comes to the rescue. He hands me a sheet of printed paper, which has the entire workout on it. You know, how far and fast to go and at what intervals. He suggests that I use the older treadmills on the third floor, which are almost always free, even during the busy morning hours.

So I thank him and head upstairs. And sure enough there are two treadmills available. I pick the less sweaty one (or is it sweated upon one), and dial-up the speed to 8 mph…no problems here and I'm soon sweating and running. About 5 minutes into the workout I increase the speed to 10 mph. At this point I’m really running fast and hard….almost sprinting. My heart is pumping, my legs are working and ground is jumping.

However the triathlon gods are not happy. I have completely ignored their fair warnings and now I must pay the price. Without any warning what so ever, the treadmill comes to a dead stop and completely dies. I’m not talking about a slow and gentle deceleration. This is a dead stop here and now.

I come within an inch of hurling from the treadmill and executing a perfect triple salkow with a double twist off the front of thething. Lucky I just sort of slam into the display bar with a big thud that knocks the wind out of me.

My speed workout is now official done.

I suppose the morale of this lesson is that I need to listen to triathlon gods. I need to take a Code 45 every-so-often. Perhaps we all need a Code 45 every-so-often. As triathletes we tend to be hard driven A types who mean to overcome no matter what the price or situation. It is in our nature to never take “no” as an answer. We will climb every mountain and forge every river. We will accomplish our mission or die trying.

But sometimes I forget that I need to go backwards to move forward. My body needs rest to recover. I need to pay attention to subtle and not so subtle signs and just take a day off. More importantly take a guilt free day off. And that’s what I figure is the real message of a Code 45.

A Code 45 means it is all right to not workout today and especially to not workout today and not feel guilty about it. Or to flip is around, a Code 45 means take a well deserved break and enjoy a no workout, a no guilt day with your favorite friend and favorite wine.

Or it could just mean, “this dude is way too big and heavy for me!” After all the triathlon gods are pretty fickle.

Old Ways

Every decade or so people, technology, ideas, culture, and society leap ahead and yet we are still stuck with the Old Ways of doing things. These old ways die-hard. Somebody has to give them a helping push over the cliff and into the sea of oblivion. And that somebody might as well be me. So without further delay here’s my list of Old Ways that need to seriously move on.

Public Radio Fund Raising

What’s the difference between listing to commercial breaks in two-minute segments over a period of several months or listening to them for TWO WEEKS STRAIGHT?

The answer: there is no difference.

It is long past time for the big boss at NPR to realize that begging, guilting, bribing, crying, screaming, and whining for money is not only lame, but so completely annoying to anybody who’s been on this planet for over 30 years, that we would rather have a pointy screwdriver stuck in our ear, than give a single penny to the local NPR station.

Pennies

Now I know that somewhere out there is a sizable population of little old ladies who cling to their pennies like they are manna from God. I know this because I’m the one stuck behind them on line at Walgreen’s as they pay for their $4.76 support pantyhose with dimes, nickels and pennies. But for the love of God, can’t we already lose the penny and just make the support pantyhose and even $4.75.

Automated Voice Receptionist

A few years ago many banks decided that human tellers were a thing of the past. They held focus groups that always confirmed their cost cutting strategy of replacing humans with ATM machines. Never mind the focus groups were just like the old communist Russian saying that goes; when asked a question by your superiors, the answer is always; “I understand your questions comrades, how do you wish me to answer yes?”

Never mind that many customers hated the machines because they made them feel like a commodity. Never mind that many customers never got what they wanted from the machines. And never mind that a few competing banks realized this and used it to build their business and get new customers.

Today most banks are falling all over themselves to add branches with live tellers that are now available long into the night and even on the weekends. Does any of this sound familiar to you big wigs at Sprint or Comcast?

“OK, did you say account information?”
“No I said Operator!”
“I didn’t get that. Did you say new account?”
“No…I said O-P-E-R-A-T-O-R”
“Hold on and I’ll get you the “we don’t give a flying hoot about your business department.”
“Hello?”
Click…Click…Click! Please hang up the phone or dial again buzzzzzzzzzzzz.

Dial Up Credit Card Merchant Machines

Let’s face it we now pay for everything with credit cards. I used to get all frazzled when the guy in front of me paid for this twenty six cent piece of Bazooka bubble gum with his Visa. Today I know that the only person who’ll actually pay cash is the little old lady with the two for one pantyhose deal.

Thus all of you cutting-edge merchants may want to really consider this. Please, please, please, replace your twenty-two-year old dial up credit card machine with something that can process my sale in under the time it takes me to have lunch. Because in this day of high speed WIFI, I should have time for lunch. Instead I stand in this line listening to the oldie but goodie dial-up music as the machine uses ancient technology to process credit cards sales for thirty six cents.

Beeping Gas Station Pumps

How come my tiny, wee, really small cell phone can play the entire Toccata and Fugue in D Minor but the huge gas pump can only incisively beep at me.? To make matter worse there are so many different types of pumps and they all require a different method and or sequence of use.

To begin fueling press any key
Beep
NO not that key but a payment method key
Beep Beep
Outside or Inside
Beep Beep Beep
Car Wash?
Beeeeeeeeeeeeep
Somewhat clean, or not so clean ,or almost but not really clean car wash
Beeeeeep beeep bop.
Expensive, or more expensive, or really expensive fuel?
Beep beeeeep beep burp.

Handkerchiefs

Really too disgusting to discuss.

Car Ashtrays

For the most part car manufactures have stopped putting cigarette lighters in new cars but they still keep building them with ashtrays. What do we need these for except to hold all those unwanted pennies? Please, let’s just all agree to move on an do away with both ashtrays and Pennies as the Old Ways of doing things.

The Hardest Start of Them All

I’ve been lucky enough throughout my sports life to compete in a number of different sporting events.

In college I both rowed and skied for my school. I also raced bikes on a local team and competed in golf and tennis.

I’ll never forget the day my tennis career ended before it really began. I was in my last year of High School when my coach finally stated the obvious (after too many years of private lessons and summer tennis camps). “Let’s face it Roman,” he said, as I plucked at strings of my tennis racket, “you’re no Gazelle out there.”

I’ll also never forget what it feels like just before the start of my various sporting events. By far the easiest was a tennis match. You just sort of easy into it. There’s not much pressure, as first or fifth or fifteenth serve will not determine the outcome of the match. And if you fault, you always get a do over server to make up for the one you just screwed up.

On the other end of the pressure spectrum is the start of a slalom ski race. You only get one chance to get it right. You stand in the little hut freezing and shaking and staring down the course at the dizzying labyrinth of colorful gates. You know that the next 90 seconds will determine whether you just wasted the last 90 days of training.

Your entire day, week, month is compressed to about the time it takes you to blink, for a blink will be the margin between the first and last place. You are keenly aware of this as you stare down the course. You wonder how you can shave a half a blink from your best possible time without catching an edge, blowing out of the course or blowing out of your knee.

The start of regatta is something completely different. I used to row in a heavy weight eight-man shell. We spent hours practicing the start of the race as it often determines the end of the race. The start of this race is all about teamwork. You and seven other big guys have to work as one seamless unit.

The eight oars have to catch and release the water at the exact same time while keeping the boat perfectly set-up. This means you have to keep the racing shell balanced on a knife-edge as they do not balance themselves in the water like your typical boat. In fact, without the oars a racing shell would more likely than not flip over.

When you get the start right, the boat practically leaps out of the water as all eight guys strain with their quads to rocket forward. With every stroke the shell surges ahead like a sixties muscle car on a weekend stoplight drag race. Except the engine burning rubber is you and eight other guys working in perfect harmony to make this start happen.

When you get it wrong, one of the boys will catch a crab. This means, in non-rowing lingo, his oar gets stuck in the water as the boat surges ahead. The entire boat shudders as if you’ve just hit the emergency brake. The guy who caught the crab can be knocked unconscious and/or knocked out of the boat by the caught oar as it tries to sweep past his body.

The start of any longer running endurance race is pretty casual affair. The gun goes off, I click my stopwatch, and I try to pace myself the first mile or two until my body gets used to running. Depending on how I feel, I’lll make this day one of my best, or sometimes one of my worst, race days.

But the start of a triathlon for me has always been the hardest starts of them. For it consists of a moment that embodies a lifetime of sheer fear and unholy terror. In all the starts, in all the various races, I have never been more scared or close to death as I feel during the first five minutes of any triathlon.

And the real kick in the ass is that I’m not afraid of the swim. In fact, it is probably the best part of my race. I don’t come from a swimming background, but I seem to take to it naturally, and so I spend lots of time in the pool swimming laps.

But all this is completely irrelevant when I start the swim, because within about the first two minutes I know that on this day I will drown. There’s something terrible that happens to me that I simple can’t control, and I believe this something it is the ancient fight or flight response.

I start the swim full of confidence and bravado. I don’t hang back and I’m not all that bothered by somebody swimming around, under or over me. I don’t even worry about getting kicked in the face or other more sensitive parts of my body. This part of the start is all good.

The part that is all bad is when about two minutes into the race, I begin to hyperventilate. At first I notice only my heart as it beats as if it is trying to explode in my chest. Next I start to breathe hard and harder and harder. Now I start to get dizzy and for the first time I realize that I’m actually think about drowning. This always comes as a complete surprise since I never think about drowning in the pool.

At first I think to myself that this is silly, and keep swimming, except that I can’t seem to get enough air. I start gasping and gulping for air like a dying bass flopping around on the floor of a bass boat. I have no choice but to stop. So I do and somebody immediately starts to swim over me, and somebody else kicks me a more sensitive part.

I feel the tightness of my wet suit as it clings to my chest, squeezing the air out of me like a huge black python from the deepest and darkest part of the Amazon. And still people keep swimming over me.

The first time this happened I swam most of the 1500 yards on my back. The reason for this is that once this basic primal fear sets in, it is all but impossible for me to stick my face under water.

The mere act of turning on my belly and submerging my face fills me with the dread and illogical terror.

Over the years, and with much practice I have trained myself to swim through this terror. For once I find my swimming groove, and my heart rate and breathing settles down, I can build to a descent swim. I have done this by starting out slowly, and not kicking, to keep my heart rate low.

But no matter what I do, I know that I will always come as close as possible to meeting my maker at the start of my next race. And that’s why for me, the start of a triathlon, is always the hardest start of them all.

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?

Coaches Interview Corner: Mike Ricci

I recently had a chance to sit down at Starbucks with Mike Ricci the head coach of D3 Multisport. (Please forgive the background music) Mike has been coaching winning triathletes for most of his life. He is both USA Cycling and USAT certified.

He help his athletes get the most out of their available training time. He does not believe in "junk" mileage or useless workouts. Instead, he utilizes the most current research and training techniques and combine them with race proven strategies to create the best possible training programs for his athletes.

In other words, he really knows what he's doing and how to make you faster. So sit back and relax and listen to Mike as he shares with you a lifetime of helping endurance athletes win.

Just listen to the Everyman interview by just click the play tab below, or click on the link to the MP3 file and download it to your favorite iPod or MP3 player.

And don't forget that you can also subscribe to the Everyman Triathlon Endurance show using iTunes and get these great weekly interviews downloaded automatically to your iPod.


MP3 File

The New Garmin is just too cool

I have some big time gadget lust today.

The new Garmin Forerunner 305 and 205 are just out. It replaces my bigger and fatter 301 that I’ve been using for all of my recent training. This little gem is really the coolest and most useful training aid I own.

On my runs it tells me how far, fast and at what pace I’m running, while monitoring my heart rate.

It does the same thing on my bike ride plus I can download my workouts into the computer and even overlay them onto a local map. My Garmin is especially useful when I travel for work and it tells me exactly how far I’ve run and even how to get back to my hotel.

The New Garmin is smaller and way cooler. And according to Amazon.com it also provides:

- Powerful GPS navigator provides faster acquisition times and improves tracking under trees and near buildings
- Delivers detailed post-workout analysis on bundled Training – Center PC software (connects to PC via USB)
- Includes rechargeable lithium-ion battery; measures 2.1 x 0.7 x 2.7 inches (W x H x D); 1-year warranty Sleek wrist-mounted sports performance trainer with high-sensitivity GPS receiver and heart rate monitor
- Monitors heart rate, speed, distance, pace, and calories burned for smarter, more effective conditioning

If you want one of these new GPS gadgets and you want to support this web site, just buy it from Amazon by clicking on the link below. You won’t pay any extra and you’ll be the first kid on your block to own of these really cool toys.

My Secret Training Partner

I have a secret training partner. Her name is Happy and she always makes me happy. But before you start thinking that you typed in the wrong URL like www.happyending.com (and no, I have not checked if this is a real URL but I bet it just might be) let me explain. Happy is a 4-year-old Golden Retriever and we like to run together.

But that’s not really what makes me happy even though it makes her really happy. She can be a bit of a pain to run with. Today on our short run (4-miles) she got into some mud and thistles, which I’m still trying to get out of her fur. She also likes to chase rabbits, birds (I don’t think she’s figured out the entire flying thing yet as she always seems to believe any bird is just one hop away from being caught) and her current favorite, sniffing others runner’s or walker's crotches.

All this combined with her complete fear of horses and cows and complete lack of fear of cars, bikes, trains and bigger mean dogs always makes for challenging run. Not to mention that she has recently taken to pooping right next to the trail, which means I’d probably win any race that included carrying a plastic sack of steaming dog poop for about 4 miles.

We got Happy as a puppy from a breeder who also breeds avalanche dogs for my local ski patrol. Now avalanche dogs have to love the outdoors, they have to be fit, and pretty smart, and most of all they have to love to be with people. Happy is all of these things. However what I forgot about avalanche dogs is that first and foremost they have to love to dig. In fact a good avalanche dog is bred to dig.

And boy does Happy love to dig. My back yard currently resembles the surface of the moon if the moon’s surface was a bit more Swiss cheese like with giant holes and craters. In fact there is one hole that I have now filled up about fourteen times that she keeps excavating. To any Wallmart executive reading this, I believe that I not am now very close to having a first rate railroad tunnel to China in my backyard for your entire Asian product needs.

No, the real reason that Happy makes me so very happy is much more subtle.

Unlike anybody else I know, Happy never has any other place that she needs to be. She is completely happy and satisfied to be with me. She’s never expecting or taking a phone call during our run. She’s never rushing to another meeting or dinner. When we are together, her world is all about me.

And unlike anybody else I know, Happy never complains or makes any sort of fuss. I will get up at some crazy hour like 4:30 a.m. to go for an early morning run and she’s waiting by the door ready to go with me as if I had just offered her a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for fame and fortune. Never mind that it is freezing cold and dark outside. She’s completely happy to head out into the dark and cold with me.

And unlike anybody else I know, Happy will always come when I call. No matter how smelly or disgusting the unidentified chunk of road kill or dog urine she happens to be sniffing is, she always comes running to me when I call her name. I’ll yell out her name, and she’ll look up from the smelly treat, pin her ears back and come charging down the path to be next to me.

I grew up with a much different dog. My childhood pet was a tiny little apricot toy poodle named Tootsie, which my folks purchased for my grandma, but fell in love with and kept as the family pet. Don’t fret, we got granny a different white poodle named Suzy that ate like a goat. My grandma discoveredthat Suzy loved to drink coffee with her cake.

Yes the dog ate cake and drank coffee from her doggy bowl. This was not so much of a problem as was the fact that when she drank the coffee, she tended to get her long ears soaked in it. It wasn’t too long before Suzy had unsighlty coffee stained ears. To solve this problem, my grandama would tie Suzy’s ears together above her head with a dew rag so that the dog looked and acted like a fury wired gang banger from the South side of Chicago.

But this problem was nothing compared to the issues that we had with Tootsie. Tootsie was not the sharpest puppy in the litter. She may have been the cutest, but she certainly wasn’t the smartest.

To begin with she had a perpetually itchy butt, which meant that she loved to drag her ass across the floor using only her front feet. When she did this, she got what looked like a huge satisfied smile across her face. She especially seemed to really relish this interesting habit when my mom gave dinner parties for the neighbors. Now I was just a small kid so the sight of the dog dragging her butt across the carpet in a room full of neighbors didn’t strike me as unusual, but my Mom was horrified while my dad stood dumbstruck by the scene.

This was really only a petty quirk compared to the time that my friend's dog Midnight (also a poodle) decided that the stuffed toy I had won at a local fair resembled something akin to the female of the canine species. I was a bit older and Steve and I had just returned from trying to impress one of my first dates with my prowess at throwing rings over bottles at a local fair. I had indeed succeeded in winning a giant stuffed panda, which I had left in the living room at Steve’s house while we went with the girls to the kitchen to meet Steve’s parents.

When we returned to the living room, Midnight (named so because he was black as night) had apparently succeed in wooing the stuffed panda with his poodle charm to give up her, or perhaps his, virginity. The dog was extremely busy going at it with the panda to the horror of both Steve’s parents and my first date.

As Steve is very Italian, I suspect the dog had plied the panda with his father’s homemade wine before charming it with a doggy debonair gaze and substantial manly or is it doggy wit…which was now on full display for all to see.

Midnight just smiled and seemed to suggest to me horrified young date that she could be next if she played her cards right. The panda just took it with a grin that seemed to say it needed a cigarette.

Tootsie never met Midnight. I suppose this was a good thing since Tootsie was no giant panda, plus she was fixed. But Tootsie did have her share of other troubling habits.

Number two on that list was her propensity to run away. Whenever I opened the front door she shot out like a lightening bolt on her way to Nebraska. Somehow the lack of food or shelter never bothered her. I can’t begin to tell you how many hours I spent wondering my neighbor yelling her name, and looking for her.

And that’s why my secret training partner always makes me happy. Happy doesn’t drag her butt across the carpet, she never drinks coffee, she always comes when I call, and I’ve never even so much as seen her even wink at a giant stuffed panda.

Random Olympic Thoughts

- What makes the 2006 Winter Olympics so great is that the underdog becomes the overdog. In most sports, except figure skating, the little know Olympian is just as likely to win (if not more so) than the favorite well-known front runner.

- The men’s luge racer flying down the hill with their giant oval helmets and slick red race suits look like giant suppositories in search of the enormous uber anus.

- Why do they need style points in ski jumping? Wouldn’t it be much simpler and fairer to just give the gold medal to the guy who jumps the furthest?

- It’s official! NBC now has more commercials than Olympics. Didn’t the broadcast network weasels learn anything from FM radio? It wasn’t that long ago that FM radio was all commercials. Now the switch is on and people are listening to satellite radio with very little if any commercials.

When the network weasels bemoan the loss of market share and try to place the blame on the internet, we should put them all in a small room and make them watch that creepy GM truck commercial with frozen USA guy over and over and over and over and over again.

- What is up with all the funky sunglasses and goggles. It used to be that only the ski racers wore goggles, now everybody is wearing them and sunglasses for every winter sport on the menu including the indoor sports like speed skating. How long before we see the figure skaters jump on the bandwagon? That’s all we need now is the Russian pair with matching hideous purple and black Spiderman outfits wearing the latest Revouvexspyaokley sunglass goggles MP3 player. Can’t wait!

- It must be really freeing to compete in the Olympics. Unlike other competitions where you earn points throughout the year or season, in the Olympics only the first three places really count. That means you might as well go for it for who remembers, or even knows, who finished fourth in any given event.

- The only way that most of us over thirty ever have a chance to make the winter Olympics is to either:
a) Take up curling seriously or
b) Move to small African or Central American country, become citizens, and take up curling seriously.

- The coolest Olympic nickname: Shaun White “The flying tomato”

- Who and why combined ski jumping with cross county skiing for the Nordic combined events? Granted the sport of triathlon combines three pretty different sports but they do go together in a somewhat poetic way: all three are common forms of human motion over land and sea. But the Nordic combined events are just wacky. I can just image the first race in Sweden.

“Sven do you see that huge hill over there?”
“Ja”
“Well how about you and Oly ski down and jump over that fjord and race back to town? First one back wins this barrel of lutefisk.”

- Short track skating is the Olympic version of the demolition derby…plus it makes me dizzy.

- I’ve read that high percentage of ski jumpers become alcoholics and or need prolonged psychiatric care…and I’m not surprised.

- Why do the Olympics need a mascot, and why is it always different, and why is it always so painfully cute? Here’s an idea for the next winter Olympic mascot, Herman the hemorrhoid. He can and will be comforted by Linda the Luge.

- The coolest moment in the opening ceremonies was when the F-1 Ferrari did the tire smoking burnout on center stage. This, of course, had little if nothing to do with the actual winter Olympics (and yes I know that Ferrari is from a town nearby Torino) but you got to respect the Italians for pulling this stunt just because it was way cool.

And just image the liability issues if we tried to do something similar here in the USA. You would have a room full of attorneys telling you the potential liability of having a 1000 horsepower racer do a deadly pirouet just feet from several hundred Olympic athletes.

- During the 30-Kilometer pursuit in cross-country skiing the athletes switch from classic style skis to skating style skis in what is termed the pit stop. From now on all transitions in triathlon should be called pit stops. It just sounds so much better than transition, which to me is a cold and really mundane term.

You transition from middle age to old age. You transition from one subject in school to another. In a pit stop you rev your engine while taking on much needed liquids. In a pit stop you burn rubber as you exit quickly. So please from now on make sure that you have two great pit stops during your next race.

Exclusive Insiders Preview at 2006 Winter Olympics

The entire team here at Everyman Triathlon has worked overtime this week to bring you a truly unique insiders peek into the 20006 Winter Olympics Games.

With the opening ceremonies just a few short hours from now, we pulled out all the stops to give you a peek into the heart of the French National Oympic Team.

Last night at great expense and with a lot of help from some good friends, I had the chance to speak with Doctor Juc LaFleur, the head doctor for the French Nation Olympic Team.

Doctor LeFleur is not only one of the best know and most respected sports medicine experts in France and Europe, but his reputation for helping athletes stay healthy and perform at the top of their game is world renown.

After years of research and study, he published several highly respected books, including his best know book on the secrets of efficient racing preparation and how to perform at peak levels on race day.

So if you have a few minutes sit back and listen to the Everyman interview by clicking the play tab below, or click on the link to the MP3 file and download it to your favorite iPod or MP3 player.


MP3 File

Send Your Triathlon Valentine Today (Here and Now)

There are something like 800 billion web sites on the world wide web, but EverymanTriathlon is the only web site that has Triathlon Valentine eCards.

To send a Free Valentine to your special triathlete, Ironman, Irondiva, or Ironsherpa just click on the link below.

A little background for you. In my day job I work for a company that provides Internet marketing for real estate professions. One of our web sites allows Realtors to send greeting cards to their clients.

We’ve taken the site, customized it a bit so that you can now send Free Triathlon Valentines to your special Ironsherpa. I apologize but there’s still a bit of corporate marketing on the site, but feel free to send as many Free cards as you like compliments of Everymantri.

We’ll be adding more Valentine greetings in the next few days so check back for a growing selection of cards.

To send a Card just click on the link below.

Happy Valentine's Day from the entire Everyman Triathlon Team….in other words me!

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.

Ask an Expert: Doctor David Grosser on endurance sports injuries

There are two kinds of endurance athletes: Those who have had a endurance sports related and injury and those who will.

Thanks to everybody who sent in sports injury questions. In this week's edition of the Everyman Triathlon Endurance Show I sat down with Doctor David Grosser and discussed the cause and cure of the most common endurance sports injuries.

Do you suffer from shin splints or have you ever had a tendinitis? Perhaps you have tendinitis and don't know you have it?

If you are suffering from any kind of chronic pain, you'll want to listen to my interview with Doctor David Grosser. Doctor Grosser is not only a great resource for your sports injury related questions, but he's also a marathon runner and triathlete.

Just listen to the Everyman interview by just click the play tab below, or click on the link to the MP3 file and download it to your favorite iPod or MP3 player.

And don't forget that you can also subscribe to the Everyman Triathlon Endurance show using iTunes and get these great weekly interviews downloaded automatically to your iPod.


MP3 File

Less is More

So did you stop, stretch and smell the roses this week? If not here’s another great reminder that less can be more.

I swam today with two great coaches and both said essentially the same thing. During the winter, during the base phase of triathlon training, less is certainly more.

Stop, Stretch and Smell the Roses

The other day I was on a “short” 40-mile bike ride with a friend when we hit the turn around point. Just before the short climb up Rabbit Mountain I decided to stop on a small bridge and stretch to try to help the PF in my right foot. I told my friend to keep going and that I would wait here and meet him on the way back.

The sun was out and it was quickly chasing away the chill of the morning. I took off my jacket and began stretching. For the first time that day I noticed the spectacular snow-capped Rockies. There was a gentle breeze caressing my cheeks. In the surrounding fields some hardy mountain flowers were yawning and spreading their purple pedals.

A small steam gentlly ran beneath my feet as a curious bluebird jumped from rock to searching for any stray worms.

I sat down, leaned back on the rallying of the bridge and closed my eyes feeling the warmth of the sun as it played across my body.

It was just a few short minutes ago that I was working hard flying down the road thinking of nothing but my cadence. Trying to concentrate on keeping the same cadence up hill while spinning my feet downhill. In the back of my mind was that ever-present fear of cars and crashing. My mind was only concentrating on the cadence of the moment and keeping up with my friend. The world around me meant nothing more than the pavement flying past my wheels.

As I now sat on the bridge perfectly still and happy, it reminds me that the sport of triathlon can be a jealous mistress. It can easily become all consuming. As age-groupers we often strive to do longer races at faster times. One way to achieve this is to train like a pro.

In a nutshell the issue is that many pro’s are young, single childless and actually get paid to train and race. We, Everyman athletes, tend to be older, married with a family and we have to actually pay to race. That means that in order for us to train like a pro we have to give up a lot…sometimes too much.

A friend of mine recently got divorced. Him and his wife started out the way most age-groupers do in the sport, and that is by having a goal to finish a sprint triathlon…which they did. But they caught the bug. Next came an Olympic distance race which took more training. Over the years the half-hour jog turned into the daily one-hour run. Their two kids began to see much less of their parents, especially the mom for she had some natural talent and success.

In her middle thirties she decided that she had the potential to turn pro, or so she believed. She threw herself into the sport with reckless abandon. Perhaps it was for the love of the sport or perhaps it was to make up for something she was missing in her life. Like many women she had spent much of her life caring for the family. It was now her time to spend on triathlon.

As in any divorce there are always two sides to the story and this one is no different, but triathlon was certainly a central character in this sad drama that ended up in a broken family. I suspect that triathlon has played a similar role many times for triathlon is a most jealous mistress.

Have you ever been to an all triathlete party? I have and the conversation can be pretty dull. It tends to go something like this:

Triathlete 1: So how you doing today?
Triathlete 2: I’m pretty tired as a I just swam after my recovery run.
Triathlete1: How far did you run?
Triathlete 2: I ran an easy 5-miles today, but I ran 17 yesterday.
Triathlete 1: Yeah, I know what you mean, I just biked 70 miles and I’m a bit tired as well.
Triathlete 2: Yup.
Triathlte 1: Yup. I think I’ll go home and take a nap.

Not only is the conversation a bit dull, but only a triathlete would consider recovering from a 17-mile run with another run. Many people would consider a 17-mile run a great accomplishment, but for a triathlete is just another day training.

Another problem with training so hard is that you can’t really get up at 4:00 in the morning, go for a swim, go to work, come home, cook dinner, do the homework with the kids, go for run on the treadmill, and do it all again the next day…at least I can’t. To start with anytime I run or ride over a certain threshold distance I need a good nap to recover.

The pros I know nap all the time. In fact they get paid to nap. They’ll get up in the morning and go for 3500-meter swim followed by an easy 6-mile run. They eat, take a long nap to give their body time to recover before they go for a longer afternoon run or ride. More importantly they can do this because they not only get paid to do it, but they also have the support of their family. Triathlon is their fulltime day job.

Most of us don’t have this arrangement. We have to punch the clock and put bread on the table before we can train.

But more importantly, since triathlon is not our day job we don't have to train so hard. We don’t have to sacrifice our lives in the name of a faster few minutes in our next race. Nobody is sponsoring us, so nobody is calling wondering how come we didn’t do so well, and yes, what about that money we are paying you to win.

So while triathlon may be a jealous mistress, we don’t have to pick-up the phone every time she calls. We have the luxury to sleep in on the weekends and have a beer or two with our friends. We can use triathlon to complete our lives, not to rule our lives.

We can stop, stretch and smell the roses.