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Is it the love of the sport by Andrew Hariton

My dad said something intersesting: he said the training sounds gruesome, but I understand that you love the sport, which got me thinking. Is it really triathlon I love? What is it that gets so many of us hooked on this crazy sport? Why do we spend thousands and thousands of dollars on bikes, race fees, travel, nutrition, etc. Why do commit so much of something even more valuable, our time?

Is it for the fame and fortune? HAH - most people know virtually nothing about the sport and care even less; hell, even our family and friends think we're nuts. Is it so we can wake up at 5:30 in the morning to spend an hour or two suffering on the bike on a trainer, and then complaining about it afterwards? Certainly not - sleeping in sounds (and feels) SO much better. Is it so we can endure 5 hour rides and three hour runs in Florida's heat and humidity in the middle of summer? You've got to be kidding me.....Is it so we can wake up earlier on the weekends than we do during the week to avoid said humidity? Maybe it's the oh so attrective spandex tri shorts? Hang on a minute - I just made myself nauteous.....

Ok, I'm back....

So why is it we put ourselves, and those close to us, through this madness?

For me at least, it's more about the challenge than it is the sport. It's about turning something seemingly impossible into reality. It's about a massive change in perspective of what's possible. It's about taking a long term view of something in this short-term culture that we live in. And it's about doing something where commitment, consistency, determination and overcoming obstacles is the only way to the finish line.

No amount of money can get you across the finish line (although you may get there faster - nothing like a $2000 set of race wheels on a $4000 bike, which I don't have by the way). No help from family, friends, coaches, or anyone else gets you there, although you certainly don't have a chance in hell of getting there without their total support. Excuses? Try? Can't? Those words get left at the door. There is no try - you either do or don't do.

The only way you go 140.6 miles in under 17 hours on race day is with 100% commitment, focus and action, which brings me back to my question? Is it really the love of the sport?

No. It's about doing something that transcends the I want it now, fix it with a pill, distract ourselves with tv, food, drugs, I don't have the time, money, health, fill in the blank world in which we live. The fact is ironman has nothing to do with physical or athletic ability (come watch me swim sometime if you need proof) - anyone can do this sport, just ask Team Hoyt or Sister Madonna (the 76 year old nun).

It's about learning that what happens today doesn't really matter; instead, good or bad, you take it in stride, realizing that it's the cumulative effect of days stacked on days, weeks on weeks, month after month and year after year that makes the differece and gets you there.

It's not about any single race day, and it's not even about the swimming, biking and running. Lance Armstrong couldn't have been more accurate when he said it's not about the bike.

Instead, it's about who you become in the process, because that long-term perspective and the total commitment and focus needed for that perspective spills over into all the other areas of life: work, relationships, friends, finances, you name it.

Click HERE to visit Andrew's Blog

Happy 4th of July: Train Hard and Race Safe!

Things that make me smile by Everyman Tri

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.

drop your pants! by little miss runner pants

ok, first.. a few things.

1.) i am scared out of my mind for triathlon
2.) there were no less than 30 guys this weekend that i had the pleasure of feeling up
3.) i really need to train more/eat better

this weekend was my first triathlon experience. ever. EVER! and it um... scared me. but it was loads of fun.

because i've never been to a triathlon, as a spectator or athlete, i figured this weekend's The Big O Triathlon would be a perfect opportunity to sort of see what it's all about. how it works, what transition areas are like... swim starts, swim finishes...

the whole thing.

and, because i am a shameless seeker of hot men, i wanted to experience triathlon from... start to finish.

namely?! body marking. and half-naked men.

ohhhhhh, yeah.

i arrived on scene at about 5:30am and got to work almost immediately. there were hoards of people, volunteers and athletes, and immediately i knew it was going to be a crazy day.

it's been raining in KC for about... i dunno. 9 years. so between cars getting stuck in the mud, lightning in the distance and the constant sort of pitter patter of rain -- it was a mad house. my job, along with quite a few others, was body marking, and despite the weather and time of day...we made the best of it.

ha. YEAH we did.

can i just say, for those of you that maybe don't know, or just don't realize... um. HA! triathletes.. those men?! are some DAMN fine specimens. it was quite literally candy for the eyes. and i may or may not have thoroughly enjoyed myself.

our job was to mark each arm, each quad, and the right calf of every athlete. which means i was repeatedly asking guys to lift their shirts, pull up their shorts, or drop their pants.

i'm sorry.. does a job get any better than that!? i believe the answer is NO.

after body marking was done it was time for the mass swim group start situation, and i planted myself along the beach to watch.

this? was a bad idea.

for some reason.. and i'm still not entirely sure why... i actually thought watching a mass swim start would.. i dunno. make me feel better. as if the sheer terror i felt while watching such a thing on tv would suddenly disappear... just by being there. in person.

i? was wrong.

when i looked at the swim course i didn't think it looked that bad. it was a down and back loop the long course junkies had to do twice and.. i dunno. it just didn't seem that bad. however by the time the lead guy was making his way around for his second loop and i realized the last guy was barely half way through his first, i knew i smelled trouble. the swimmers were barely moving. it was windy, there was a storm brewing in the distance and honestly.. they just looked so tired.

i turned to 0% Tall and Short and muttered something along the lines of ...".... i dunno if i really wanna do this anymore..."... and seriously started questioning my summer of triathlon.

being the fearless kids Tall and Short are, they assured me HEY!!! its no big deal! you'll be FINE!! and i quickly shot them a zip it, or i'll HURT you! look that they of course laughed at. (Tall and Short are 0%'s little cousins who, at the ages of 13 and 14, are already far more experience in this sport than am i.

yeah. that makes me feel alllllll warm and bubbly inside.)

at about the time the last of the swimmers were exiting the water the weather really started to take a turn for the worse and what started as a 15 minute Sprint-distance delay quickly became a cancellation of the day. by that time all of the long coursers were on the bike and my no big deal race day volunteering experience was suddenly turning into RUN! TAKE COVER! get REALLY REALLY WET and STAND IN THE RAIN FOR A FEW HOURS!

afterwards Tall ,Short, 0% and i had lunch, waited for 0% guy to get home, and sat around recounting the days events. the 0% family had one crazy story after another and although it was a fun day and i enjoyed myself, i definitely went home wondering how on earth i'm going to survive my first race.

race day, as i knew it would be, was one helluvan experience. i can't say i really feel all that ready to do one on my own, but.. i've finally got sort of an idea of how it all fits together and.. if nothing else....

there's always volunteering.

and body marking.

and really hot men.

(pffft. if that doesn't motivate me to get out there.. nothing will!)

Click HERE for more hot men musinings

Proper Tending and Care of Seeds... and dreams by SkiRough

Recently I had some time to kill in midtown, and found myself browsing one of my favorite shops in the city, the MOMA store. There I found Eggling, the crack & grow egg. His adorable charms and cute name proved irresistable. Eggling, complete with basil seeds, came home with me, where he sat on my desk in his box for a week. This Thursday, I finally cracked open the ceramic shell and planted the seeds. Now Eggling has a nice little perch in the sun, overlooking York Ave (if he squints, he can even see the East River).

Each morning finds me leaping out of bed and rushing to the windowsill, eagerly checking on Eggling’s tiny seeds. So far, just dirt. I know I must be patient. Afternoons when I am home studying, I check on Eggling just about every 15 minutes. I water him dutifully, giving him his nourishment. I’m careful to check the soil for proper moisture levels, less I overwater. Soon, hopefully, I will be rewarded with a basil plant sprouting out of his little ceramic egg shell.

Everywhere I look these days, there are signs that Spring has finally arrived. I spied a Robin Redbreast while trudging up Harlem Hill on my run. The green tips of tulips are emerging in their beds along Park Avenue. Finally this week, I got off my rollers and out into the city streets on my bike.

All around, the seeds of what will unfold throughout the year are being planted and tended. What seeds are you planting this month? And, what actions will you take to tend to those seeds? Do one without the other, and we end up with dirt. Do both, with clarity and commitment, and it is amazing what sprouts before our eyes.

I’ve planted some seeds in my own life, which, with proper and consistent care, will grow into some incredible happenings this year. Just as I water Eggling, I am tending to my training daily. I check in with my progress on workoutlog each night before bed. Eliminating weeds and distractions that choke my progress. And while I am anxious for results that I am not quite seeing yet, I know the seeds are down there. Hopefully, just like Eggling's basil, my Ironman base is germinating and growing.

“Don't judge each day by the harvest you reap, but by the seeds you plant.”
- Robert Louis Stevenson

Click HERE for more SkiRough

..OK, I'll write it down by Club Pirate

You know the conversations...chatting friendly on a ride with new people. On my Saturday ride, someone I have never met before asked me about me.

I was flattered when she asked if I race bicycles (she must have been buttering me up!). I told her I train for triathlon. She asked, "so, do you like to compete?"

Without even thinking about it I answered, "No, but I really like racing."

Competing is something I associate with a burning desire to dominate, to win. While I know what that feels like to want to win, it's not my driver. It's not what gets me up early on the weekend to go ride and run. It's not what gets me out of the house at the end of the day to go swim.

Competing is about other people. Racing is about me.

Racing is something I do for fun - go to a new place, see a new course, say hello to friends. Sometimes I do it to do something big, something that's important to me. To prove to myself that I could do something I didn't think I could.

I stay in shape so that racing stays fun. It's my time to build fellowship, to enjoy my community. I train so I can do new races, so I can try new things. So I can keep it fun. I like racing because it's a (relatively) safe environment to go as fast as I want to. To do as big a thing as I feel capable of.

When I train, I don't always feel a burning desire to go out and make it count. I used to feel that way - when the girls were little and time felt really precious, I felt like I had to make every second count because I was sneaking 20 minutes of training in between the 400 million other things I felt compelled to do every day. These days my training mostly feels a little more measured. I have days where I am just going through the motions. I fake it 'till I make it. Sometimes it feels like crap, and then it feels better, and then it feels fun.

Sometimes it just feels like crap. That's OK. Tomorrow is another day.

Running is my church. Riding is my church. It's my meditation. It's my time to talk to my higher power, to check in with the insides and check out the world. Training can be spiritual, (though I don't think every ride, run, swim and lift is always a spiritual experience). I have community of fellow church-goers. A fellowship of athletes. My community is full of fast people and slow people. We all have our reasons to be there, whether we know them or not.

I don't have to be there, nobody forces me out of bed. I choose to be there. I'm there because I love it.

Running with my husband the other morning, I was reflecting on how good it felt to be out with the birds, with him - chatting and enjoying the outside. Enjoying his company. Feeling really good about our relationship, feeling good about what we were doing. Enjoying being together. This is not how we started out. When I met him, I was a smoker, I was out of shape. I thought to myself, how long did it take for me to run before this actually became fun? Before we could run together?

It took years to get here.

I'm not giving that up.

I told him recently that I don't want to do this thing short term. I want this as more of a long term thing. I don't want to burn out, I don't want a part-time hobby. I want this as part of my life. It's important to me to keep this for a long time. For me.

(and I'm sure it'd be good for the kids too - but even this is not my driver)

"That's good," he said.

I get the feeling that's what he wants too.

Click HERE for more Club Pirate.

Moments that Quiet the Noise SkiRough

Ever notice how if you're emotional during a long workout day, you can really push yourself to the point of complete exhaustion? I had a very fatiguing 4000 meters at the pool. I think I jumped in that frigid water with the goal of driving myself to utter collapse. On Friday afternoon I learned that one of the most important people in my life- and best friend- has Type 1 Diabetes. He is 27.

When he told me on the phone, I literally had to sit down on the nearest stoop and just couldn’t believe it. This is a pretty healthy guy (admittedly, a passionate foodie like me), and former college athlete. Ever since I have started this Ironman craziness, he has been there for me. I can always count on him to send me an inspiration e-mail just when I need it, or give me an ass-kicking pep talk when I've been slacking. He’s shown me what it takes to completely dedicate yourself to something and give it your best.

Whether it has been studying for the GMAT, creating the perfect lifting routine, or even mundane job applications, I’ve never seen him not out there, giving his best- all he has and more- and even after dusting himself off from failure again and again. He’s had a rough year- denied from every grad school program he applied to, restructured to a job he compleley hates, a rough and invasive surgery, relationship problems- and somehow through all of this he has still persevered. Just hearing more bad news in his life has made my heart ache for him.

Even now, he’s been taking the news better than I have. I am the one with their stomach in acid-y emotional knots whereas he just informed me, “I’m going to deal with it and live my life as best as I can. What else can I do?” There is inspiration and truth in the simplicity of his statement. I respect and admire his strength of will so much.

I spent the afternoon researching Type 1 Diabetes and of course being worried about him. None of my comparatively petty concerns or desires mattered. This is something that he is going to have to manage for the rest of his life. Stuff like this, it reminds you how many outside forces there are that are invariably bigger than yourself. It strips away all of the clutter and really focuses your attention. Near sighted desires- missing a dinner reservation, getting a new pair of boots- are silenced. Tragedy and life hardships have a way of quieting those daily noises. It leaves one question standing there… what’s really important?

I’m as guilty of losing sight of the big picture as anyone. I get lost in the whole chaos of midterms and work craziness and Ironman training and lose track of what it’s all really about. That Friday afternoon, on the stoop, yanked my attentions back to what is my main driving force in life. For me, life is about being a catalyst for other people who want to make a positive impact on the world. That’s what inspires and motivates me.

Remembering this immediately clarifies my focus and stabilizes my footing. There is a poignant and profound lesson in moments like I experienced on my swim tonight. Every so often ask yourself what is important. It may change your perspective and- as my friend has so admirably done- perhaps instill a renewed determination to live life to the fullest despite circumstance.

Click HERE for more SkiRough

 

There comes a moment...

There comes a moment in every race when I think to myself, "Why exactly am I doing this?"

It is usually when the exuberance and adrenaline of the start give way to the realization of just how long and painful the rest of the race will be.

And let's face it, in a race speed equals pain. In other words, the faster you go...the more it will hurt!

I think that we all know this fact somewhere in the deepest folds of our brains but we tend to hide it, or ignore it, or conveniently misplace it. I do this because if I didn't, I would probably never enter another race again. It is only when I'm actually racing that this realizations comes screaming out of its hiding place like a runaway locomotive.

So when this realization inevitably hits the light of day, my brain asks the body, "So how much pain can you tolerate today?" And depending on the amount of training I've done, how I feel that day, the amount of mental energy I have to spend, and how badly I want to succeed and/or win, the answer comes back and the rest, as they say, is history.

It has taken me 6-years to even get to this point in my triathlon career. The first year of racing I never had the luxury to make this decision as it was already made for me. I started training and racing with little regard or knowledge or the sport. It was just something that I thought would be fun to try.

Besides, I thought to myself, how hard can a sprint triathlon really be? It is only a sprint after all.

I figured out the answer to this question on the bike when my legs turned to watery spaghetti at about mile 10 of the 20-mile bike portion of the race. By the time I got to the run, the only decision to be made was how fast I could walk the 5-miles to save a shred of dignity.

After the race as I was munching on Pizza and Beer I decided that I really liked the sport and that I knew nothing about how to train or race a triathlon.

The following year I threw myself into training and racing. I signed up for every possible race and made every possible mistake in the book. But as I slowly got better, and my endurance improved, I found that I could survive more of the race.

Instead of exploding on the bike, I could now wait until the run to crack like a walnut. The idea of actually racing never really crossed my mind as I simply wanted to finish an Olympic triathlon running. In other words, not walking any part of the run and actually feel good crossing the finishing line.

By the end of my second year I had accomplished this, so I felt pretty confident when I entered my first half Iron distance race in the spring of my third year of racing.

"How hard can a half Ironman be," I thought to myself when I entered the race? The answer became painfully obvious on the bike leg as I started to feel sick and weak. By mile ten on the walk I was completely dehydrated, with tunnel vision from heat stroke. It was the first and so far only race that I failed to complete.

By year three of my racing tri career I had a coach. It was my lovely wife that sorted this out and I'll be forever grateful to her and my coach at the time Wes Hobson for this obvious necessity.

I had now spent almost three years trying to reinvent the triathlon training wheel. With the help of Wes I learned more about the sport of triathlon in three months than the previous three years. So much so that I was ready to try my first Ironman distance race. I would have preferred to race an Ironman, but I didn't know that they sell out in about a half an hour.

Sometimes...there comes a moment in racing when your determination to win snaps like an over stretched rubber band.

Do you know that moment?

I can tell exactly when it happens to me. I know the exact instance when my day turns from racing, to surviving, to just wanting to finish.

My first Iron distance race was a bit of train wreck. I had purchased a new bike complete with a pair of wheels rife with problems. So on a hot and muggy race day in Orlando, I spent much of the bike fixing flats.

Eight flats to be exact. My determination to race just kept stretching and stretching and stretching until by the seventh flat it snapped with an audible twang.

I remember sitting at the side of the rode begging the last few racers on the course for a spare tire so that I could fix yet another flat.

A young lady stopped and offered me one of her spare tires, which I gladly accepted. She also offered me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. It was pretty amazing as she had a steel worker-sized lunch box strapped to the back fender of her bike with a full load of wonderful snacks.

You must remember that at this point in the race I was with a bit more casual bike crowd. The areobar, disk wheel, areo helmet folks were long gone.

I remember saying to her after she offered me the sandwich, "No thanks, I just want to get back on my bike."

And then rethinking and adding "You know...I will have that sandwich after all. Thank you very much!"

We sat by the side of the road with her munching on cool ranch Doritos and me enjoying a very leisurely PB and J. You could almost hear the snap as I went from wanting to race to just wanting to finish.

It was as if, in the blink of an eye I began to see the fluffy clouds, the bright Florida sun, the austere blue sky, and the boiling black road tarmac.

Before this moment all these things were just props in my play, or variables to be accounted for and forgotten. But now they were real and I was really living in the moment.

Perhaps it is the huge amount of physical exertion of a triathlon that heightens the senses? It is as if every minute becomes an hour and every hour becomes a day, and now I was living and relishing every second.

The pain and the pleasure combine into an intoxicating mixture of life. I could have sat by the side of the road munching on that sandwich forever, but eventually I once again heard the siren call of the finish line. It was time to get back on the bike.

It is funny how focused I become when I race so that the world around me shrinks until it fades into the background. My vision narrows and I only focus on the finish line. But when that rubber band snaps and the world turns back into clear focus, and the sights, sounds, and smells of the day fill my brain with wonder as if I'm drunk on life, that's the moment that I both dread and happily anticipate.

I'm not saying that this is good or bad. It is just different and stark contrast between racing and just wanting to finish is so vivid that when this happens in a race, I always know.

Sometimes...there comes a moment in racing when your determination to win snaps like an over stretched rubber band.

Do you know that moment?

Subtle Hints by Iron Pol

I like to think of myself as horribly brilliant. However, I have serious challenges when it comes to catching hints, at times. For example, if you happen to be related to me and want to provide a hint about a birthday or Christmas present, a good approach is to send me a note, call me to remind me about the note, and then send an e-mail to confirm the discussion. At that point, I'll probably remember that I should by you something for Christmas. I'll have no idea what to buy, but I'll get something.

I can be the same way about myself, as well. As I approached high school graduation, I had been doing everything possible to go to college. This despite all the signs that perhaps another path might be more appropriate. God gave me a hard head for a reason. It's a gift. A gift I use regularly. So, God had to resort to some fairly straightforward signs about what I should do with my life. Little things like a broken jaw and a complete lack of money did a good job of redirecting my energies. It took time, but I finally heard what was being said, and now find myself where I should be.

Yet I still find myself prone to missing subtle hints about a variety of things. My plans for last night were to have dinner, get the kids to bed, and do a couple hours on the trainer. Sure, I was tired, but training takes precedence. After all, with Friday being a rest day, I would get to sleep in (all the way until 6 a.m.).

My body apparently had other plans. B-Boy got to stay up a bit late while I got Monster Girl to sleep. After reading a chapter in our book, brushing teeth, and ensuring the required horseplay was completed (last night was a "foot ride" which entails him cruising around the house sitting on my foot), it was off to bed. I laid down to listen to B-Boy's prayers. And woke up two-and-a-half hours later.

At that point, I called the bike workout a bad idea, and crawled into bed. Let's face it, if you pass out on the floor for over two hours, you are either very tired or fairly drunk. It seems my body was trying to tell me something, and I wasn't listening.

Training is important. But we must remember that rest is a part of training and is just as vital as workouts and nutrition. In running, we use a rule of one minute for every mile of training. That means if you are training 30 miles/week, you should be getting 30 minutes of extra rest each night. The same rules apply to triathlon. As training time increases, your daily rest must also increase.

While sometimes challenging, ensure you are giving yourself sufficient opportunity to rest and recover from your training. Injury, illness, and burnout become increasingly likely as we become fatigued. So, as you progress in training, remember to give proper attention to your sleep.

Do you want to read more by Iron Pol? Just visit him at his blog by clicking HERE.

you know that feeling??! by little miss runner pants

you know that feeling you get, when you're right on the brink.

everything around you has been working up towards something, some certain time, some certain event, and its just about to happen and you're just kind of... giddy!!?

not the feeling of everything going right.

not the feeling of i've been waiting for this for so long and now its here...

not that feeling.

the feeling right before.

the feeling of time slowing down and speeding up, all at once. the feeling of hurry up and wait, hurry up and wait... hurry up and wait. the excitement and anxious nervous jitter you get because you know pretty soon, it'll be here, and you'll have to do whatever it is you've been waiting on, and oh my god.. its really real, isn't it?

thats the feeling i have. right now. i've been hit with it, smack, smack across the face.

this, this is what i've been getting ready for.

i don't know what these next few months are going to bring. i don't know what they'll be like, but i can feel the energy just brewing inside me. and i'm ready.

not ready for a race. not ready to train, to have a schedule, to get up every morning to swim or run or bike... (who are we kidding, i'll never wake up early to bike. screw that!)

i'm not that kind of ready.

i'm ready for my life. my life.

MINE.

i've been fighting it, now, for almost two years. trying to hold on to who i was, while growing into who i am. trying to maintain a lifestyle that i knew made me unhappy only to become frustrated with one i knew, know, makes me succeed.

and its been a battle. its been my battle. and its not over...

but its about to be.

that thing, that life i've been slowly getting ready for... its almost here.

do you know that feeling? the feeling of knowing everything is about to be RIGHT. not that everything is always going to be puppy dogs and roses, i'm not that naive, i'm not that stupid... but that everything is going to be right. because you're finally okay with it. okay with you. all of you.

and its not here, its not yet. but... almost.

do you know that feeling?

because i've gotta tell ya... its scary, and its exciting.

and its scary and its exciting... and i don't know if i can explain it more than that.

but thats what i'm feeling.

i'm right on the brink.

Read more by little miss runner pants HERE.