I just spent a few days in Chicago watching the Badgers win the Big 10 Tournament, then headed north to hang out in Beloit, Wisconsin, home of . . . 7 High School Basketball State titles and FatWallet.com.  The first thing I always do is walk down the hill from my parent’s house and gaze at the pool where I learned to swim and flirt with girls.

It’s kind of a crazy place but we never once called it a Natatorium.  It actually looked like this when I grew up, though I was definitely not swimming the day they took this picture.

In all seriousness, it was a pretty badass pool to have 200 feet from your house.  The “swim test” was across and back at the widest part and somehow I made it, but mostly you could have found me on a Pabst Blue Ribbon beach towel off to the side.

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In other news I JUST remembered I’m signed up to do the Rock/Creek River Gorge Trail Race a week from Saturday.  That’s just over 10 days to get ready for 10.2 miles of rugged terrain that everyone says is easily the equivalent of a half marathon.

Today, I ran my dog for one mile, then decided to add a few more, but a delivery guy pulled up next to me at the end of the block (we were high school classmates) and he asked where I was going.

I said, “Running.”

He said, “You can’t run now, I’m taking this pizza to your house.”

Dad strikes again.

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So, one of my favorite football players, Chris Borland just retired after one season in the NFL because he feared the long term effects of concussion.  My dream was always to be a back up quarterback in the NFL.  No collisions, along with NFL quarterback status sounds about as good as it gets.

The whole thing reminded me that I seriously considered “retiring” from triathlon a month or so ago.  In some wild-stretch-of-the-imagination I was also a bit concerned about the long term effects of Ironman training.  Not from a safety perspective, but it can really take over your life.

I mean, it’s fun and all, but kind of a grind.   I’m sure the aforementioned River Gorge race (that I’m totally unprepared for) will lift my spirits.

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This weekend I’m heading to Madison and it will be impossible not to think about my first Ironman.  I spent a lot of my youth there, but that city will always remind me of one of my greatest days.  And maybe, just maybe, that is where I will recover my mojo.

I will gaze at Lake Monona and remember the rush of 2,700 people swirling around me as I set out to do something I wasn’t sure I could.  Every cyclist will trigger thoughts of pounding through the Wisconsin hills.  And the state capitol will forever be the symbol of success.  The end of one day . . . that took 12 months to finish.

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“Never judge a day by the weather.” – Zig Ziglar

I say, “Screw Zig Ziglar!”  This weather has blown up my mojo, but it does look like spring might actually be here in Nashville.  It couldn’t have come at a better time.

When you’re training for an Ironman and basically haven’t run or biked in a month, doubt tends to creep into your head.  But yesterday, I took care of both of those with a short brick around 2:00.  Eighteen miles on the bike, followed by an easy 2.5 mile jog.  I’m back!

Well, not back, back, but I do feel like I could finish an Olympic, which is something.  And, in the name of “stay in the moment,” that’s my game plan.

I’ll probably head over to Knoxville and do Challenge in May and that’s what I’ll train for.  I can’t let Chattanooga consume me right now.

We hear all of this talk about an “A” race, but that seems like putting a lot of eggs in your amateur triathlon basket.  My “A” race is the next one.

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It’s been a minute since I’ve posted, and I suppose there have been some legitimate reasons, but I really need to get my ass in gear if I plan to race triathlon this year.  I’ve always felt like writing this blog was one of the biggest keys to consistent training and the last few weeks have proved it.

This transition away from my job of 15 years and into the world of being an entrepreneur has been a challenge.  There’s a lot of comfort having a team-focused-goal, but when you face the world alone, it can seem overwhelming.

I’ve also seemingly forgotten I am a product of Wisconsin because this “brutal” Nashville winter has taken its toll.  There is literally 3 inches of snow on the ground today and I feel a bit like Jack Nicholson in the Shining, typing away with locked doors and no human in sight.

A few weeks ago, I had serious thoughts about hanging up triathlon.  Nothing about it seemed fun anymore. The earth-shattering-high at the beginning of this quest seemed like a distant memory.  The infrastructure that insulated me has fallen apart.  What was a common thread of Ironman Wisconsin was now simply “I’m doing this for myself,” and that’s never easy when you’re used to letting outside forces drive you.

For me, there’s no better way to “go inside” than to be in a pool.  I’ve always felt an insatiable pull to water; maybe it’s because I’m a Scorpio.  I’m not “into” astrology, but every time I read something about it, in relation to being a water sign, it makes me wonder:

Water signs are attuned to waves of emotion, and often seem to have a built-in sonar for reading a mood. This gives them a special sensitivity in relationships, knowing when to show warmth and when to hold back. At their best, they are a healing force that brings people together — at their worst, they are psychic vampires, able to manipulate and drain the life force of those closest to them.

I can definitely relate to this, and may explain how I can literally go for weeks or months holding back, trying to keep my cool and bring peace, compassion, and understanding to the world, then completely shut down.  I trust people implicitly . . . until I don’t trust them, and a lot of times that applies to myself.

But getting back to triathlon . . . I haven’t been running or biking much, but have been in the pool almost daily for the last couple weeks.  If Ironman Chattanooga happened today, I’d be ready for leg #1, but would crumble like a Little Debbie cake on the bike and run.

It’s been a deep, and sometimes exhausting, search for what’s ahead.  I needed decompression from 15 years in the news business and am starting to feel like myself again.  I know that I do love competition, so triathlon will continue, but with a different perspective.  One that isn’t so guarded or jaded.  One that doesn’t care about what other people think or say.  One that truly relishes the journey of self-improvement and genuine friends you meet along the way.

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“We’re all going to die, all of us, what a circus! That alone should make us love each other but it doesn’t. We are terrorized and flattened by trivialities, we are eaten up by nothing.”  – Charles Bukowski

 

It was October of 2010, and Tim didn’t know it, but in four days he’d be dead.

He was drunk and screaming at me through his phone, “Love, Love, Love!  Goddammit, life is about love!”

I couldn’t disagree.

He’d been through hell and back more than once.  But Tim was was abundant with a precious resource, passion.

He took chances and learned some tough lessons. He made a lot of mistakes but faced his challenges head on.  Now, it was cancer.

He was fearless, but afraid of himself.

In the end, it was people who killed him.

People, who couldn’t live with his brutal honesty.  People, who refused to accept their faults and hid behind a mask.  People, who couldn’t return love in the same proportion that he dished it out.

People, like me.

He was my best friend and while he had an uncanny ability to laugh in the face of disaster, he wasn’t laughing that night.  He felt like he’d let it all slip away.  Like he failed at life because he couldn’t find enough love.

We chase money, thrills, and ego, but what is any of that without love?  And not just love in the traditional sense, but for everything we do.  To waste life chasing illusions that leave us empty is an awful way to live.

We bottle anger or fear, unable to forgive because of personal agendas and insecurity.  We want to control instead of love.

I’ve been thinking about that conversation since the day he died and finally believe I have grown enough to let go of what’s been in my way.  I will no longer fight empty battles for the sake of it.  I will no longer hate in the name of public opinion.  I will no longer judge someone before walking in their shoes.

It’s all pretty obvious and starts with love . . . of yourself.

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Do you think you would get better at playing piano if you practiced 30 minutes every day, or for 4 straight hours once a week?

Ever since I started training for Ironman, I have been obsessed with figuring out the best way to prepare.  This morning, that quest continued as I wrote blindly on the topic and my thoughts kept coming back to one thing: repetition.

Last year I went into Ironman Louisville severely undertrained by Ironman standards.  My actual time was 12:40, but I honestly believe an 11:30 was well within my grasp if I would have hydrated better on the bike.

I didn’t follow a typical Ironman training plan.  In fact, these were my longest training days for all of last year:

Swim – 3,000 meters
Bike – 4 hours
Run – 12 miles

For the last month, all I did was bike and swim . . . a lot.  I swam around 1,500 at lunch, then biked for an hour or two in the afternoon.  Nearly every single day.

Going into Louisville I felt very comfortable in the water and on the bike.  And while I hadn’t run (do to an injury) much, I felt oddly at peace about the prospect of running a marathon.

My every-day swim and bike workouts were short, but very focused.  I worked hard on my form in the pool and pushed myself with intervals and aero training on the bike.

Going into Louisville, swimming and biking were second nature (sort of like going to the coffee shop these days) and I had very little fear.  I didn’t have long distances under me, but I had something more important, great command of my effort.

The run, of course, was ultimately my demise, but I refuse to believe it was about my legs or conditioning (over-heated core, soaking wet feet and blisters is another story).  Endurance was never a part of my life growing up, but sports built running into my DNA.  By nature, running’s not intimidating because I have a deep understanding of how to do it any day of the week.

And, I guess that is the entire point of this post.  The more comfortable you are with swimming, biking, and running, the less effort it takes.  For my money, shorter, good-form-repetition is far more valuable than bad-form and exhausting distances.