Half my world, in B/W

The Maserati

I read her, jaw open eyes wide
mesmerized
like a voyeur,
who spies
the pinnacle prize

It sounds absurd, but
without saying a word,
"Tell me your dreams
and I will tell you my fears..."
with mine eyes I heard.

Your dreams, my dreams, all one and the same
Your fears, my fears, all part of our game.
Your hand in my hand, at least in our mind
Patience, Patience, 'til each other we find...

I tried, I tri'ed
I reached out and I cried
with her when
she confessed
her surprise to me...

And I, I shared mine
The rape, the wine
that erased
ten whole years
from my mind...

Your dreams, my dreams, all one and the same
Your fears, my fears, all part of our game.
Your hand in my hand, at least in our mind
Patience, Patience, 'til each other we find...

And who once was whole
Now 2 broken souls
Spoke their desire,
Unfair to all,
But out of control...

But she, being wiser than I,
Said stop! We must try
Not to paint yet
the last layer is wet -
a masterpiece begins dry...

Your dreams, my dreams, all one and the same.
Your fears, my fears, all part of our game.
Your hand in my hand, at least in our mind
Patience, Patience, 'til each other we find...

Then she walked away
Said save the flame for another day
And thanks a lot
You mean so much
To me, by the way.

And now she won't call
Or text or be there at all.
Found the cave and
buried this habit
Until we meet in the fall

Your dreams, my dreams, all one and the same
Your fears, my fears, all part of our game.
Your hand in my hand, at least in our mind
Patience, Patience, 'til each other we find...

And me, I can't think straight
Think she's effing with fate
Gotta let the dice roll
Even out of control.
But know what? Madison awaits...

Your dreams, my dreams, all one and the same
Your fears, my fears, all part of our game.
Your hand in my hand, at least in our mind.

Patience, Patience, 'til each other we find...
Patience, Patience, 'til each other we find...

Training Progress and My New Bike

This is an easy week for me, and the the final week of base training before I move to the first month of build. I'm sluggish, probably the product of a little more work volume the last couple of weeks and too much coffee/too little water.

My first race of the season, the Powerman Alabama, is just over 2 months away. I'm already a bit nervous about fulfilling my expectations as this will be the first race ever for which I've actually reasonably trained. Huge... But this race really isn't that important to me, and likely I will try to use it as a training brick with lots of friends.


I'm incorporating a local 5k, the Miles for Smiles, into my run this Saturday. I'm sure I'll push the tempo a little beyond the 8-9 minute miles I've been walking, er running, during this base phase.


Triathlon is flu-like contagious! My friend Carmel has just resolved to do a tri before she turns dirty thirty in 5 months. She just bought herself a sweet Scott Contessa. One of the other ED docs at work has been asking me about joining the Vulcan Tri Club, and my friend Anne has committed to do the swim portion of a relay team with me and Mark in an as yet unnamed (Chattanooga Tri?) tri this summer. We should smoke that course - Anne was an NCAA national champ swimmer for several years back in the day...

In other exciting news, I've placed the order for my new bike today. After much deliberation, I've opted for the Cervelo P2SL. Hopefully I can pick it up this weekend!!!

Want to know a secret that I recently learned? I can actually swim decently fast - but only for short bursts. Lack of swim endurance is holding me back, but that too is getting better. It's hilarious to look at the precipitous drop of my 100 splits over the course of a 10 x 100 session. But, on the positive side, I can do 10 x 100 sessions now!! Woohooooo!!

Thanks for joining me on My Daily Spin.

About to Die

"I'm going to die!!! Help me! I'm going to die!"

We heard this before we saw the person screaming these fateful words.

Those are dreaded words in the emergency room. You see, somehow, and I have never understood how and probably won't until I am the one making that proclamation, a person knows when they are about to die. Now I'm not talking about the "yea I have brain cancer and my doc says I have 3 months" I'm about to die but rather the "There's an elephant on my chest and I can't breathe" I'm about to die. They know...

So this guy, late 20's, staggers through the ER doors Saturday night holding his hand to his right neck. One look at the guy and you knew he was in some serious trouble.

He had the look of a battle-worn street soldier. Wife-beater, sagged hip-hop-inspired black jeans, black nylon do-rag, Timberland boots... And tats everywhere, including a couple of teardrops on his face.

But I didn't notice the tats, nor the clothes, until later. All I saw was blood.

He staggers in and flails himself across the triage desk. He is holding his right hand to his neck, trying ineffectively to keep the blood from pulsing out of his body.

Blood is everywhere. His clothes are saturated and dripping. Bloody boot-prints, blood squirting onto the floor and desk and our registration clerk...

The triage nurse called for help, and we got him on a stretcher and pushed him into a resuscitation room to save his life.

He was screaming when he walked in, but he's now just a whimper of a man as the nurses start to cut off his clothes. I do a quick inspection and note that he's been shot in the right neck, no apparent exit wound. His pulse is thready and his blood pressure is dangerously low.

I intubate him rapidly and then place a large-bore IV into a central vein to begin giving him blood. A tech holds pressure on the wound to control the massive hemorrhage. His blood pressure rises to safer levels...

The trauma surgeon arrives and takes him to the operating room. Total time in the ER - 13 minutes!

Almost 3 hours of surgery later, the man is alive and the damage is controlled. He'll be on the ventilator for several days until the swelling is no longer a threat to his airway. But he'll live...

In Birmingham the violent crimes have been increasing over the last several years. The homicide rate is trending up, reversing several years of decline. Noone knows why. I don't pretend to know why.

But I've seen way too many kids and young people and innocent people fall victim to this increasing violence. I've seen 12 and 14 year old girls riding in the backseat of a car get shot and killed while their mom pumped gas. I've seen a 2 year old kid get shot and killed while sleeping in her bed. Just recently I pronounced dead an 18 year old girl, 9 months pregnant, who was stabbed to death by her baby daddy's ex-girlfriend.

It's tragic. And there's no easy solution. Take away guns, but they don't disappear. Lock more people up, but there always are others to take their place.

Respect. Treating others as you would be treated. Realization that it's a big world, and you are such a minor player. Somehow the solutions have to lie somewhere in these concepts. But how? How do you get people to think before they act? To respect?

I don't have the answers... I wish I did.

I'm tired of hearing healthy young kids tell me they are about to die...

Tri Tag

I've been tagged by Robin! So, here goes...

1. Describe a memory from your first triathlon ever
I had swam my first lap ever probably 2 weeks before the Mt Lakes Sprint Tri. I was so naive about swimming and triathlon, I didn't know how scared I should have been about the 600 yard lake swim. Yikes!!! Luckily, about 400 of the 600 yards was shallow enough to walk/run, so I only had to swim, er doggy paddle, about 200 yards!

2. Describe a memory from your most recent triathlon
50 yards into the 1500 meter swim at the Music City Tri, my goggles started leaking water. I tried to adjust, over and over, with no luck. I was so frustrated, and I already was scared of the swim, and it made that 45 minutes in the lake the MOST miserable experience EVER!

3. What's the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to you in a tri?
See # 2. 5th slowest swim, not just in my age group, but EVERYbody.

4. What's the most thrilling thing that's happened to you in a tri?
Ok, I think this is probably belaboring the point of how miserable that swim was, but... The most thrilling thing that's happened is FINALLY crawling out of the lake at Music City Tri last year (06).

5. What is something you discovered about yourself by doing triathlons?
I never knew that I could be so stoked about busting my ass and pushing my body to extremes of exertion for 15 hours each week to work toward a goal 6 months away. I think I have always been afraid of giving everything I can, and that leaves me with regrets that I don't want. Triathlon is teaching me about exposure and transparency. Those in the know tell me that every flaw will be readily apparent over 140.6...

6. What is The Big Goal that you're working towards?
Oh you know the answer to this one.... KONA!!!

So now I'm supposed to tag 6. Let's hear from TJ, Michelle, Momo, Tripp, E-speed, and the Bluebirdbiker...

Identity

"It is always the same: once you are liberated, you are forced to ask who you are."

Jean Baudrillard

"All the world's a stage,And all the men and women merely players.They have their exits and their entrances,And one man in his time plays many parts,His acts being seven ages." William Shakespeare

It's tough to find your identity in a world where constantly we are bombarded with images of the superhuman and unnatural. Barbie bodies and over-hyped hoopsters suggest that we must be perfect to be important.

MTV is in on it. Their show Cribs lets the 20 second celebrity brag to the hometown about their McMansions and borrowed Ferraris, but they never seem to show the environmentalist living in the self-harvested log home on solar energy and well water. Not sexy enough... I mean, if you can't play baseball in your bathroom is your house really anything to be proud of?

And this need to be over-the-top crazy sexy cool in a 50 Cent kind of way forces us, many of us, to try to identify ourselves by what we have and how people perceive us.

I played a non-scientific non-consented experiment on a couple of my nurses last night at work. I asked each of them to tell me how she identifies herself.

"I'm a 24 year old female, I live in Birmingham, I have blond hair and brown eyes... Uhm, I live in ____ Condos on Highland Avenue, I drive an Infinity. What else do you want to know?"

And, asked separately and without knowledge of her colleague's answer, "I am a 28 year old graduate of Southern Cal, I'm a nurse, I have dark brown hair and brown eyes, I drive a Mitsubushi Montero and I live with my boyfriend in Grey____."

Now admittedly, young 20 something single female nurses are not a representative sample of the population, but they're close enough.

Both of these girls, like so many people, define themselves by what they have and what they look like. That is what our culture has done to us.

And you know what, I think it sucks.

I fall into the same traps. I used to want a nosejob because my Great-granddad's Greek nose found its way to my face and that, along with 2 breaks, left me with a heck of a honker. My New Year's resolution for several years was to get it "fixed," but for some reason I never did.

Know what? I couldn't be happier that I didn't follow through. My nose is my nose, and I could care less now how curvaceous it is. Now it does bother me that I can only breathe through one nare, but that's a different topic altogether...

Now, in addition to identifying ourselves by how other perceive us, we also identity ourselves based on our current activities. I frequently am sucked into this one.

For example, I maintain a blog; therefore, I am a blogger. I train and compete in triathlons; therefore, I am a triathlete. It's my opinion that this is unfair, and here's my reasoning.

Now I've done a lot of things in my life, some of them (in my humble opinion) amazing and some embarrassing and hurtful. I once was heavily involved in Democratic party politics. I held the position of president of a regional party chapter, I went to national conventions and hobnobbed with supposed bigwigs, and I even got to speak to Congress at the US Capitol. But never would I want to be identified as a politician. Especially not now, many years removed from those activities. Now it would be very easy, especially back then, for someone to call me a politician. I probably called myself a politician.

But saying "He is a politician" suggests the same absolute and incontrovertible truth as saying "He is a male" or "He is the only son of Carolyn." It implies that it is a trait of a person, a characteristic of a person, an integral component of a person. It does not suggest that it is merely an activity in which the person participates.

And you would be hard-pressed to find anyone who currently would mistake me for a politician. So did that characteristic, that integral component to my character change? No. It was never there. Politics was merely a game I played for a few years.

And that's why I disagree with identifying yourself by the activity in which you are currently participating.

I've learned that there are only 2 ways in which I identify myself. I am a father, and I am a physician. I believe those are ingrained character traits, inseparable from the person I call me. So that's who I am.

I am a physician and father who writes, and paints and runs and cooks and (rarely these days) blows smoke rings at the coffee shop. But I'm not a writer, nor a painter nor a cook nor a smoker.

I'm just a dad, and a physician.

And that's my identity. Thanks for reading My Daily Spin.

Triathlon

It slithers snakelike into your soul at the first hint of invitation. It captures you when you are weak, as you watch the others cry and sweat and bleed and risk injury and sometimes death.

You don't know what immediately, but you know something is happening. You begin to look around, see how others do it, and you ask your body if you too can do it.

And then you start...

You talk to the warriors... You read about the elite troops... You wonder if someday you can be like them.

And you realize that it changes you. It takes control of you. It empowers and humbles you. It strengthens you. It sharpens and tempers you.

It forces you to neglect the less important, and sometimes the most important. It commands you to reexamine your life priorities, again and again and again.

And then one day, one day you awake and you realize, I am not it, but it is me.

And you live with it. And you thrive with it.

And it slithers snakelike into the soul of all with whom you share it.

Another Lesson Learned

Sometimes you have to take a step back and ask yourself, "what the ef did I do that for?"

I had one of those moments today shortly after I confirmed that my eardrum was ruptured.

You see, it started off as a little trip over to the indoor shooting range to play with bad boy toys for a couple of hours. Now I admit I am not a marksman by any stretch of the imagination. I used to own a rifle when I still lived with my parents as a young teenager, but it has been locked in their gun safe ever since my brooding phase 15 years ago. And I've never owned a handgun.

But my friend Jim recently bought a pistol, so we took it to the range for its inaugural firing. We rented a .40 caliber Springfield to compare to his .22 caliber, and we loaded up with about a 1000 rounds of ammo.

We played for a couple of hours, and all was well until we started to gather our stuff to leave. Another guy had started firing his .45 in the stall next to us, and I noticed that his gun was so much louder than either of the ones we had been firing.

I realized why his gun seemed so much louder when I exited the range and pulled out my earplugs, only to find that my left ear plug apparently had fallen out at some point. I couldn't hear a thing with that ear.

When I got to work this evening I had a colleague check my eardrum for me, and of course, it has a nice hole in it.

What the ef did I do that for?

Note to self: If you go shooting again, buy some decent ear protection first...

Another Rung

Two exceptionally cool and novel experiences for me today:

First, I couldn't wait to get to the pool. I know, this doesn't seem like a big deal. But you have no idea how much I have dreaded swimming. It's hard to do what you suck at over and over and over again. Today was different somehow though. I woke with water in my mind, visualizing my stroke, anxious to continue working to become a swimmer.

And when I got to the pool, I jumped in immediately. None of that sit on the side with my feet in for 5 minutes acting like I was adjusting my goggles when really I was trying desperately to keep from turning and running. Amazing!

I swam 750 yards straight. 750!!! I've never done that... I was supposed to have done it, but I never could. Today I left my watch in the locker, never looked at the pool timer, and just swam. And yea, it's almost cliche, but I felt like I could go further.

Know what? This is really going to happen!

The Bank Robber and Change

I want to tell you about a guy I met last night at work in the ER.

I was cruising through my 9 hour shift, seeing my patients, teaching my medical students and residents; there was nothing spectacular or TV-worthy. But there was this one patient who fascinated me, not so much for who he is, because I truly despised who he is, but more for the honesty with which he is who he is.

I forgot his name as soon as I walked out of his room - a protective device I learned years ago to allow me to separate someone's tragedy from my reality and keep me from dwelling endlessly about what ifs. He was probably 45 or 5o years old, with a smoke-dry cracked voice and the kind of wrinkles that come only from years of worry and regret. His hands were thick and yellow, callused by the hardness of poverty.

He had been released from the state prison just a few days ago. In Alabama, when you are released, you get a bus ticket to anywhere in the state, your prison possessions, and a date with your parole officer. He came to see me to get medicine to control his hypertension and diabetes. You see, Alabama doesn't care about your problems once you aren't their problem.

I sat down and talked with this guy for 15 or 20 minutes, much longer than I needed but not nearly as long as I wanted. He told me the case he just cleared was 2 years for a parole violation charge that resulted from his possessing stolen property. I asked him for what he had originally been paroled.

"Which time?"

Hmmm. "I suppose the last time." I knew I was captured at this point and would be spending way too much time with him. This kind of thing fascinates me.

"Bank robbery."

"Oh... Well, what about the other times?"

"Mostly bank robberies, couple of grand theft autos." Stack of pancakes with two strips of bacon on the side please... He continued, "You see, I could rob the 7-11 or the Food Giant, but why? I mean, If I get caught the time is the same, so why not go where the money is at? I rob banks. If I want a hood ornament off a car, I ain't just gonna take the hood ornament I'm gonna take the car. I'll get the same amount of time if I'm caught, so why waste my time on a hood ornament?"

Perception of the Criminal Mind 101.

We talked for a while longer, mostly him telling me his life story, in and out of prison. He had been a certified paralegal for 20 some odd years, a trade he learned at state expense during a stint for felony fraud for bad checks. He told me he was leaving tomorrow to drive to Mississippi to research an appeals case for a "client" still "falsely" imprisoned at Kilby Correctional (he told me this shortly after he told me he was banned by Alabama from ever having a driver's license because he had stolen so many cars...)

I wished him well, and hoped aloud that he would be able to make the money he needed through the legal work without resorting to more criminal activity.

"That won't happen," he declared. "I'm a robber. I rob. It don't matter if I got a job, it don't matter how much money I got. It's just in me. I gotta do it."

And that made me think more about this concept of change, about whether a person ever really changes at all. Think of a person, if you will, as an automobile with an endless tank of gas on roads with no redlights and no deadends. Now imagine that car continues down the road until it is nudged, either by another vehicle or by nature, onto a different path.

So the car is always the same, but the path changes. Now the occupants of the car come and go, but the basic chemistry and mechanics of the car never change.

We, I, have always felt like I can change. I can go out with a new group of friends and have a couple of beers and they think I should headline Comedy Hour. That must mean I have changed into a funny guy. Or I can run a marathon, and that will change me somehow.

I can do this or that, and it will change me. We hear it all the time on the telly. Oprah changes lives by giving away a new car or house or a makeover. Lives are forever changed by the wicked tornado that tore away their home. For just $29.99, you too can be a millionaire real estate investor and your life will never be the same.

But you know what, it's lies. All lies. You will be the same. I will be the same. We don't change, and we can't change. If I win the Mega Millions Friday night and pocket the $25 million, I'll be a helluva lot wealthier. But I'll still be a bit more passive than I should be, I'll still have the unreasonable need to brush my teeth even after the tiniest of sugar-free snacks, I'll still have a temper that sometimes flares at the most inopportune times, I'll still have trouble reconciling my faith with mainstream religion.

I will not change. I cannot change. I may be able to train my body to react in certain ways to certain stimuli. My paths, my journeys, may lead me through forests unimagined and tornadoes and ironman races and cancers and heart attacks and death and sorrow and loss of a child (God forbid...) and riches and power and who knows what else....

But I, I'll never change. Never...

And in a way, that is liberating. If I, if you, can live knowing that nothing will change you, you can live fearlessly. You can accept the journeys, the twists and turns and loopbacks of this roller coaster ride of life, and know that you will still be the same person when you exit the ride as when you started. It's just a ride.

Enjoy it, laugh at it, live it. Tell others... Find yourself... Know where you will be when the ride ends... Repeat until it's done...

At least, I suppose, I think its safe to say that I'll never be a bank robber.

Thanks for joining me on My Daily Spin.

My Declaration

I need to make a declaration.

But first, let me explain. I think way too much. As much as I try to shut down this locomotive, it still pushes forward endlessly, trouncing over obstacles, day and night, until finally it reaches some imagined endpoint and squeals metal on metal to a painful stop.

Except this locomotive of mine never seems to stop.

So I have to guide it, cajole it, patronize it. I feed it with new ideas, and I eventually make concrete the progress, or lack thereof, of its spinning in the form of action. Frequently the action lands here, allowing definiteness for me and transparency for you.

I've been thinking a lot about this race season, trying to separate dream from goal. It's harder than I imagined. I mean, hell, I can picture myself cruising past the Normanator in the lava fields, then galloping along for a 2:30 marathon to take the podium with my kids all cheering by my side. But we'll let that be next year's goal, this year's dream...

But I don't want to cut myself short either. I'd rather aim high and land short than aim low and hit the bullseye.

That being said, there's not a chance in hell that I won't reach my goal. It just ain't gonna happen...

Now, back to my declaration. My first race goal of the season: IM Wisconsin - sub 11:30. This one's going to burn!!

Thanks for reading My Daily Spin.

How do you decide to change?

There are times in your life when you happen upon something that makes you believe it will take you to a better, more fulfilling place. That something may present itself in the form of religion, or a new partner, or a new athletic endeavor, or countless other ways.

If you follow that path and journey down the unknown road to the potentially fulfilling place, you may find the answers to questions you never knew existed, or you may find yourself absolutely clueless.

But every time you stumble upon such a fork in the road, you have to ask yourself this basic question: Do I stay or do I go? Do you stay in your comfort zone or do you reach out and grasp at the unknown, with all of its potential promises and possible pitfalls?

There are three basic things you have to know before making the decision to plod into the unknown or stay the course.

First, you have to know what the worst that can happen by not trying this hot new thing. Will you die of your otherwise incurable breast cancer without trying the experimental drug? In addition to the potential physical consideration, the emotional toll of not trying can be devastating on the psyche. Can you live with yourself if you don't do it?

My dad used to tell me a story about an opportunity he had to go rafting on the Colorado river. A couple of his friends were going, and they had invited him along for the 5 day camping and whitewater trip. Well, he didn't exactly have the money at that time, although he told me later that he thought he probably could have pinched pennies and liquidated a couple of assets to ante up. He didn't, and he regretted until the day he died turning away from that opportunity.

The second thing you have to ask yourself is what are the potential benefits from trying the new road? Is this going to lead you somewhere that you might want to go? Or is the journey itself worth the risk, no matter the destination? I decided when I was a teenager that I wanted to complete a marathon. It took me more than 20 years after making that declaration to finally do it. For me, I followed that path because the destination was the goal, not the journey. But there are just as many examples of the means and not the ends being the path to fulfillment.

The final thing that you must consider when deciding whether to venture down a new path is whether you can handle failure. If you venture out, and it leads to a place you don't want to be, are you willing to backtrack? Can you pick up the pieces and move on? Or will you be stuck in the miserable job that looked so promising when you pursued it and be fearful of trying something different because, who knows, it might even be worse?

This brings up one of the strongest factors that anchors us to the status quo - fear. There are so many people, I among them, who are afraid of change.

One of my nurses in the ED has worked in our department for the last 5 or 6 years. She is a hard-working, compassionate nurse but absolutely hates her job. We've talked about this on several occasions, and I have tried to persuade her to try working in another part of the hospital, or even at another hospital. But she won't, because she is concerned that even though she is miserable now something different may be even worse. And so she is stuck.

There are examples of fear of change everywhere. I drink about 12 ounces of coffee each morning. It's something I've done fairly consistently for many years. Now I know that caffeine is an addiction and I am an addict. But I am afraid to stop it - I don't want to deal with caffeine-withdrawal headaches, I don't want to increase my morning fiber to take the place of that wonderful, moving, side-effect of coffee. I'll accept this fault because I'm afraid of changing. Is it a good thing? I don't think so, but I'm not always a good person.

So fear has to be overcome before deciding to journey on a new or unknown path. And the risks and benefits of taking the journey versus staying your course need to be considered.

Life constantly offers us diverging roads. Some we take, some we ignore. The roads we choose suggest who we are, and they determine who we will become. So choose carefully, but not too carefully, and always enjoy the moment.

Thanks for reading My Daily Spin.

Move

Today is training rest day # 1.

I started off the season with a 10 day camp of sorts, actually just me busting my arse trying to whip myself back into the routine. I concluded yesterday with a 31 mile bike (1:24:30), a 2 mile dreadmill run on 9 % grade (18:12), and 1000 yard swim with a main set of a 500 TT (10:35).

Obviously my swim is my weakest point, so that is what I am spending more time on these days. Drills, drills drills (heh, kind of reminds me of Vince and Tommy and friends from back in the day - Girls, girls, girls...)... Then more drills. My swim coach doesn't want me to do any main set swims longer than 100 repeats, but I'm stubborn and it just seems like I need longer swims.

Plus, I've got this little goal I invented of a 30 minute mile by April 1, and of course I need to work on the longer yardage swims for that, right? So I think I will do mainly 100 repeats and drills, but at least once a week do a main set of a progressively longer TT. So maybe at the end of this week I will aim for 750 straight, then increase weekly or every other week by 250's. Baby steps(although they seem like huge leaping Neal Armstrong on the moon steps compared to my pitifully weak swim right now)...

In other TriJack tri news, it's all systems go for Ironman Switzerland, just over 5 months away. It's funny how things happen. Ya know, I did my first tri ever in the late summer of 2006. But I realized shortly thereafter that I had the capability of doing big things in tri - not saying podium finishes but the ability to race and compete and encourage. I wanted to do a full IM, but all of the North America IM races for 2007 were full already. So I paid a ridiculous price to buy a training package that included an IM WI race entry. Then I realized that there were international IM events with spots open, so I jumped on the IM Swiss opportunity. Now, instead of no IM's for 2007, I will compete in not only 1 but 2! Wicked, eh?

I'm also looking around for a new tri bike. I've sold my Cervelo One, because quite honestly the frame was too small for me (definitely poor fit is a downside to an ebay used bike purchase), and I am just riding my S Works Stumpjumper Pro Mt Bike for now. I've flirted with the idea of a Felt B2 or an Orbea Orca, both of which are kickass bikes. But I'm concerned that I will have more bike than talent and look silly riding a $4k bike while getting passed by guys on Mt bikes or something. So I'm looking in the sub $2k range, and right now leaning toward the Cervelo Dual. Any opinions?

One final note. I've noticed that many bloggers have dedicated training songs for the year. Well, I kinda thought that was silly until I recently heard Thousand Foot Krutch, Move. For the last week, every run and gym session my MP3 has been on repeat mode with this song. Yea, there is a message behind the lyrics, but whether you identify with the artist's intended message or not, it rocks just the same. If you can't get pumped with Move, you can't get pumped... Click on the Youtube link for the video, or on the Trijack audio tag for a listen... Enjoy!

Thanks for joining me for My Daily Spin.

Confrontation

I started the confrontation with honorable intentions, but by the end, there was nothing honorable about it.

I had just left the gym, and was driving the thirsty SUV (with its thirsty TriJack and the two youngest of the troupe) down a 30 mph almost-residential street. And believe it or not, I actually was a tad under the posted speed, which is something of a rare occurrence for my fully leaded right foot...

So I'm driving along, minding my own, and this half bald guy sucking on a Camel in his VW passes me over the double yellows. What the...

Now admittedly I am a passive person, and I'd rather say to myself "what an idiot" than say it to the idiot under almost all conditions. But today, for some reason, I took action.

The pedal hit the floor and I hit 60 to catch him within about a minute, then followed the balding sloth through the neighborhood shopping village. I tailed him close enough to make sure he knew I was there, and I tried to look the menacing part of the bald headed (yea, I know, but mine is by choice) goatee'd guy I am.

Except I probably looked more like I was in pain than menacing, but hey, like I said, this is a rare thing for me and I frankly don't get much menacing-look practice...

Anyway, he stopped at a red light (shocker he didn't run the damn thing...) and, taking advantage of an empty left turn lane, I pulled up beside him. And then it was on...

Now I already had decided I was going to take the controlled, guilt-evoking format as opposed to the more-natural-for-me 4 letter tirade. And so it started,

"You know, sir [I actually said sir, believe it or not...], not only was passing me back there illegal but it's the same kind of thing the guy did that hit my brother head-on last year and killed him." A blatant lie, but it sounded good at the time, and quite frankly I'm not above a random lie here or there to a random person to make a good point.

"Well why don't you get off your phone and drive?"

Interesting response, especially since I wasn't on my phone until after he had passed me and I was passing along his tag number to Mt Brook police in hopes they would come give him a whopper of a ticket for something (God knows they've given me plenty for my overweight foot...)

By then, the light had turned green and the cars in front of him already had driven off, leaving us there to obstruct traffic.

"Sir, your light is green so you can go now, and unlike your pass back there that actually would not be illegal."

"Up yours."

At this point, the part of me that wanted to be controlled and guilt-evoking was gone, and the 4-letter tirade me was back.

I let loose a couple of choice phrases, mostly with regards to his sexual relationship with himself, as we both started to drive forward, and then it was over. Luckily, Anna and Aidan both had their headphones on listening to a movie, so they were oblivious to the proceedings.

So, what started honorably ended with me lying and cussing him out. Oh well, heh, it still made me feel pretty damn good!

Teamwork

Sometimes no matter how independent you fancy yourself, you just have to bite the bullet and ask for help...

About Me

I'm starting to realize that it isn't about me.

There was a time, probably not too very long ago, when I honestly and unfailingly believed that I could affect anything and everything so as to produce my desired outcome. I was that confident, that foolish.

But anything out of control eventually crashes.

Like 7 years of way-too-young marriage that ends with private investigators and high speed car chases across the southeast...

Like my race car inching off the track in Canada Corner at Road America sending me spinning out of control at 140 mph toward an unforgiving concrete wall...

Like my unrestrained hubris...

I'm learning that no matter how much I micromanage, I have little control in most outcomes.

Yea, I can train for hours on end for months for a marathon, but I have no control when I hit 24 miles and weep like a new war widow... I can detail that Maserati daily for months, but if the battery is drained then I'll just keep on admiring her from afar...

The only thing I know for certain is one day, maybe today, maybe in a dozen or more years, I will die. Nothing else is guaranteed, and nothing I can do or say or want or feel will make anything or anyone happen. I can want it, but unless all the planets align and all the interested parties agree, wanting won't lead to having.

And that's hard to accept, but essential. If I can understand that I really have no control, then everything becomes much simpler. No worries... What will happen will happen. And that's all...

And this I now know - it isn't all about me...

a swim goal, and random musings...

It's finally training time! The mind-numbing creature called the off season, in which I had to be more dormant than I ever wanted due to my post marathon IT band issues, has finally ended. Whew!

I was supposed to have a grand kick off yesterday, but - I just couldn't wait... Remember that pre-Christmas feeling when you were a kid and are magnetically drawn to the closet where your Christmas presents are hidden? Well, that was me...

So I've been going full speed since Friday and I feel it in every muscle in my body. Oh I love that good pain feeling.

I met with swim coach Lisa yesterday (speaking of, man what an exhausting day. I got off the overnight shift at 0700, then home to gather my swim stuff and off to Atlanta (2 1/2 hour drive) to meet Lisa. She tortured me for 45 minutes, then I drove back to Birmingham and forced a 2 hour nap. I then had a 25 mile bike ride to accomplish before being back at work at 19:00. Awesome!).

Anyway, Lisa said about the funniest thing I've heard lately - "We probably only need about 2 more sessions before your stroke will be solid!" I laughed out loud... I think she was trying hard to make me feel better about panting like a dog after just a half hour of drilling... It didn't work!

I need a motivating goal for the swim. Yea, finishing the IM swim course works, but I need an intermediary. Something specific for which I can aim... I'm thinking 1 mile, 30 minutes, April 1.

Yea, I know, this is probably what a 12 year old girl can do after a 2 month layoff. But this would be infinitely faster than my 5th slowest time (overall, not in my age group) at the Music City Tri last fall. Never again will I be embarrassed like that...

There, it is said. On April 1st I will swim 1 mile in under 30 minutes. Man, that feels good to say...

So I'm going to wrap this up with some reactionary thoughts that exploded in me a few days back. It's funny how emotions play with us - toss, tumble, torture, titillate, and take us eventually to either a peak or a valley where we are left to find meaning of it all...

and now she's givin' me a little piece of her sickness...
it's 3 am and i can't sleep. you see, there's this girl...
it's always about a girl ain't it?
except this ain't just a girl, this is a
maserati ferragamo prada
with blow like ernest and
drive like cmc.

and this girl, who thinks she should be just any girl,
certainly not my girl -
circumstances are a bitch eh?
she reaches out just like i told her she anytime could
except the 1 time she did i was a supersizeme shit
i wasn't there - couldn't be -
logistically impossible,
the victim of digital fiasco.
i wanted to be but i just wasn't.
and now i am here and she's not -
she never really was -
and it is effing with me in a sleepless night kind of way.
ef

The Lay of the Land

This is the first of what hopefully will be a lengthy series in which I tell you (or, in all honesty, tell myself when I read these posts again in some imagined way distant future...) what I'm reading.

The Lay of the Land is the 3rd of a trilogy by Richard Ford, although you don't need the 1st two to appreciate this one. It's a literary edifice that examines the life of Frank Bascombe in his middle years, and the transformation that occurs as he faces mortality and realizes that, no matter how hard he resists, the events of his past are inescapable and integral to his future.

If you found philosophical identity in Fight Club, or you appreciate the reflective, timeless genius of Kris Kristofferson, you will find The Lay of the Land an entertaining and though-provoking read.

New Year's Trip Report

Well, vacation is done, and well... I need a vacation from my vacation! Whew... Man, I love my kids and all, but 10 days and 1600 miles and sleeping in 5 different places in 5 different cities, 6 days of playing lifeguard at the pool or ocean, explaining to them why the men are sleeping on the benches with newspaper covering them in the French Quarter, and C-O-N-S-T-A-N-T questions about whether they are all my kids and how do I handle it - it all starts to wear on me after awhile...

It's funny, to me and my kids alike, how people react to a young guy (I still get the - you're my doctor? do you have your driver's license yet? - questions at least once each shift) alone with 4 young kids. Everywhere we go, which is a helluva lot of places, we are asked usually not once but many times if they all are mine and why are they so well behaved. It's funny to the kids that people constantly comment because this is all they know. It's just us, it's how we roll...

There was too much trip to give a narrative of it all, but I want to hit a few high (and low) points...

We started off in Mobile, caught up with family, and went to the USS Alabama where the kids and I boarded the battleship and played like World War II sailors for an hour or two.

Then, on the way to New Orleans, I wanted to stop at my dad's cemetery; but, I sadly admit that I couldn't remember where it was and well, I felt too damn ashamed that I had forgotten to call family for help... It had been at least 5 years, maybe more, since I visited. Definitely a low point, and something about which I still feel awful...

We visited Melissa, Bruce, and Wyatt-man in New Orleans, and they took us to the French Quarter to meander and visit the aquarium. Aquarium is amazing, especially considering it was ruined by Katrina. And speaking of K, wow... N.O. is back baby! Yea, there are still houses being rebuilt, and yea, the WalMart is still boarded (heh, is that really even a bad thing?), but as far as the N.O. I know and love, the party is there.

Funny story about lunch in the Quarter at Landry's. I ordered the shrimp creole, but the server insisted that it just plain sucked. He recommended the shrimp etouffee, and I agreed. It was tasty, I'll admit, until about half-way through when - CRUNCH... Hmm. That sounded like... GLASS! Glass being ground by my teeth... I stealth-like spit my oral contents into the napkin, and yep - it was a kernel-of-corn-sized piece of glass. Except that the crunching wasn't actually the glass being ground, it was my 1st molar, the pieces of which were right there in my napkin for me to inspect.
So, the moral of the story? Don't listen to the effing servers at Landry's...

From N.O., I went minus half a tooth with the kids on to Daytona Beach, where we funned and sunned for what seemed like forever. We all had a kick-a** time doing the GYGO triathlon, although I must admit that it felt more like a boring brick and less like a true race than I wanted it too. I was hoping to get the adrenaline surge, but it just didn't happen. Hats off to Kahuna and Wil for their efforts - what a great concept is the virtual tri!

We snuck by St Augustine, THE oldest city in the US (so this is how I learned it too, although I guess it probably more correctly is the oldest city built by European settlers) and drank from the Fountain of Youth. No, I don't have any fewer wrinkles... Yet.

We were walking away from some fort built by Spain in St Augustine when Anna said a couple of her increasingly common wow-how-does-a-3-year-old-know-to-say-that- sayings. The first one was "Daddy, is the reason that you know everything because you are the daddy?" and the second, "Daddy, how did God know how to make us?" This from the same girl who last spring awoke from a long road-trip nap and said "Daddy, are we in heaven yet?" All I can say is - wow...

Savannah yesterday and for awhile today, then finally home.

Home... An internet connection that works. Something other than pizza every other meal. My gym, my pool... My bed with its layer upon layer of down ...

Even my clutter...

Ah, home... There's nothing like it anywhere...

GYGO New Year's Day Race Video

Check out this video for exclusive footage of the Get Your Geek On New Year's Triathlon in Daytona Beach, Florida. The wind was tough on the beachside bike and run course, but the TriJack troupe competed admirably. They finished to the cheers of a couple of dozen curious onlookers and one proud dad.

Happy New Year!

Well, the internet connection at the condo in Daytona Beach is less reliable than a 1996 era dial-up. What did we do before the the web?

The GYGO Tri was awesome yesterday - video will be posted when we return to reality at the end of this week.

The kids all did their prescribed 50y/1m/0.5m, with the bike and run being on the beach. The thought it way cool to ride their bikes on the beach!

Happy New Year, and I've got tons of updates coming this weekend...

Slow Road

I woke at 0200 this morning with a pounding head and a 103 degree gift from my kids. I layed in bed for an hour and a half before leaving the night and offering myself to today. And as I passed the time in Melissa's dark, quiet New Orleans house, these words invaded my mind. Katrina? Maybe... Indiana? Maybe... You may not understand this, the product of a tired and fevered mind, and that's ok. It's here, so it's there... For me, for you...


So far away
I know you're awake,
remember the cloak of night
in passion red?

Take the slow road,
Better than No road, and
I'll be here for
You my friend,

Pull the iron handle
Off the map
And turn me Circles in
Your head.
Security of two;
Vanity like the mirror
Growing dust behind
Your bed.

Take the slow road,
Better than No road, and
I'll be here for
You my friend,

Hidden in your
Knowing eyes
Muted desire by
Your wisdom led.
Security of two;
Vanity like the mirror
Growing dust behind
Your bed.

Take the slow road,
Better than No road, and
I'll be here for
You my friend,

I'll Wait 'til we Begin.

Take the slow road
Better than No road,
Take the slow road,
Better than No road,
and I'll be here 'til we Begin.

New Orleans, Race Calendar, and Music!

Exciting things are happening at My Daily Spin.

The troupe and I are leaving tomorrow for New Orleans for a couple of days, and then we'll spend a week playing in the ocean at Daytona Beach. On the 1st we all will compete in the Get Your Geek On New Year's Triathlon. I will do the super sprint 400 y/10k/2.5m and the kids will do 50y/1m/0.5m.

On the 8th, my inaugural triathlon training season will begin. Last year, I did a couple of tri's but only had a few weeks training before each. There was no training season or, honestly, even a true triathlon season. For me, the game started late and I was never really prepared; but, I winged it anyway. This year, I will be prepared...

I'm still refining my race season calendar. There will be a race of epic proportions added for June, which I will detail in the coming weeks (but, for a teaser, it requires a trans-ocean trip and mountains... lots of mountains!) And it looks like the Mercedes Half Marathon will likely be cancelled to avoid me pushing my run mileage up too much too fast and re-aggravating my IT band.

The troupe will compete in the Mercedes Kids Marathon on February 11, and they are all training hard. They are doing a few half mile runs each week in order to get the required 25.2 miles done by the time of the race. Then they will do the final mile of the marathon on raceday. You have to be 5 to race, but my 3 and 2 year olds are training with the older ones anyway. There motivation is equally inspiring and amazing!

I got on a bike today for the first time in a month for about 10 miles with no knee pain, and then followed that with my first pool session with fins. Heh, too bad fins arent allowed by IM!

Click on the TriJack Audio tag on your left to listen to a kick-ass tune from The Presets, Girl and the Sea.

Enjoy, and thanks for joining me for My Daily Spin.

We Wish You a

Merry Christmas! Wishing you and your family all of the best and brightest...

The Journey

Periodic reflection is healthy. You have to know where you have been to know where you are, and where you are going.

The last 12 months have been amazing, maybe the most healthy and rewarding ever for me.

3 years ago, I was living in my 8 foot square office at the hospital. Now, I have a house and this year I finally made it my home.

I travelled with my kids this year to Disney World, Washington DC, Philadelphia, Detroit, Cincinatti, Atlanta several times, and Memphis twice.

We listened to the ghosts of Union soldiers in Gettysburg, and we were Chocolate Factory workers for a day at HersheyWorld.

We were spelunkers through miles of underground mazes at Mammoth Cave National Park, and we hiked around Bushy Lake in Alabama.

We walked the land where Abraham Lincoln was born, and where he spent his boyhood. We journeyed to the Ford Theatre where he was cowardly killed, and we stared in awe at his likeness where he is memorialized.

We sledded on a toboggan at more than 30 mph in 10 degrees, over and over and over again, until our feet and hands and nose were numb and blue.

We cheered at a half dozen Auburn University football games, and we went for the 5th straight year to the North American International Auto Show.

We camped in tents at Lake Martin and in our backyard, I taught the kids how to tube behind our boat, and we hiked up Cheaha Mountain.

We toured the home of William Taft, and we were led by our Congressman, Representative Spencer Bachus, on a tour of the United States Capital.

We saw the travelling Broadway productions of Annie twice, and Beauty and the Beast, and we saw the Atlanta Ballet perform The Nutcracker.

We ran on the mall in DC; and, we studied the Jefferson, Washington, and World War II memorials.

We spent 2 separate weeks at the beach in Sandestin, a week at Daytona Beach, Florida, a day at the Georgia
Aquarium, and we made countless trips to the Birmingham Zoo.

We met Sir Topham Hatt and rode on the "real" Thomas the Train, we sat on the first row at the Wiggles, and we went to the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus.








Without the kids, I made additional trips to Orlando, Panama City Beach, Nashville, Indianapolis, Chicago, and New Jersey.

I camped and canoed Lake Toxaway in the North Carolina mountains, and I caught a fish (for the first time in years) at Lake Martin.

I made 4 road trips greater than 1000 miles, 3 greater than 1500, and 1 greater than 2500 miles (with just me and the kids).

I went to Sea World, a Cubs game in Chicago, a Barons game in Birmingham, the Indianapolis 500, and the Aaron's 499 at the Talladega Superspeedway.

I ran 2 5k's, a sprint triathlon, an olympic distance triathlon, and a marathon.

I spent more than 110 hours sitting in car-line, taught Emma to ride her bike without training wheels, changed countless diapers, and taught Anna to use the potty (finally!).

I built a solar system with Emma, took Anna and Tess to ballet class twice each week, and helped Aidan spot every tractor known to man.

I read more books, mine and the kids, than ever before in the last year.

I worked 1700 hours and took care of about 5000 patients in the Emergency Department at UAB, easing suffering, making life a little more tolerable through laughter and the occasional morphine shot, and even saving a few lives.

I re-discovered a passion for writing and found an outlet for that passion (thank you T - miss ya! ;) ).

I met thousands of people, enjoyed the company of hundreds, and even found a couple of kindred spirits along the way.

A lot has happened in the last year. I am a very fortunate person, and I constantly am reminded of that. I have worked hard to put myself in this position. I have sacrificed when necessary, and I have trudged through many sleepless days and nights.

Despite everything that I have, and everything I have done over the past year, both for myself and my kids, I am so optimistic that the following year and years to come will be even more fulfilling.

My kids are amazing. I like them, as a group and individually, and I know they like me. They, more than any other motivating factor, make me want to do and explore and learn and live. I want to, nay I have to, offer them the world.

So thank you, thank you so very much for sharing this time with me. I hope you continue to journey with me, with us, on our future adventures!

The Naked Shake

I need some help with this one - I think I have a locker room stalker....

I've been using the same gym for a couple of years now, and, for the most part, it serves my needs and supplies towels (what's with most gyms not doing this now, anyway??) without piping in too much JT (sorry Bolder).

There have been a few scary locker room moments, like the time I turned the corner to find a naked super-clydesdale - well, I say he was naked but in truth his pannus was so big it draped his maleness, so I guess he was kinda covered - standing dripping wet in the doorway of a stall staring at the john while he was brushing his teeth. Uhm, yea, still not sure what the hell he was doing, but the image haunts me to this day...

But lately this different guy keeps showing up in the locker room. Now the first time I encountered Hairy Dude, with ape-like fur head to toe that would ensure winter outdoor survival for a week even in IronJenny's neck of the woods, I was showering and he was showering and he apparently started talking to me.

I thought he was mumbling to himself and not to me, so I finished up and hurried away thinking this guy was kinda loony and I really didn't want to be standing around naked with him.

HD followed. As I was towelling off he saunters up and starts talking, and this time there is no doubt I'm the target. Ok, just a nice guy, kinda weird to start a random conversation with someone you don't know while you're naked in the shower, but hey - to each his own... And maybe I actually do know him and I don't remember - happens all the time, right? No big deal...

So I went on with my day, and all was well. Until a few days later, same scenario. In the shower... Naked... Alone... And then he walks in, and I immediately feel awkward. HD starts talking to me, and I reluctantly converse for a few seconds before hurrying away. I dress wet and get out of the locker room before he exits the shower. Getting a little alarmed now...

Then, Monday, I was gathering my stuff from my locker and about to dress when HD apparently exits the shower and walks straight to me, naked as a jay bird...

He asked me my name, thus confirming that my memory hadn't failed me and further confirming that this guy was nuts. We exchanged names, and he - gasp - extended his hand for the shake...

Ok, I had to stop this crap right there - I will not shake hands while naked, and I definitely will not shake hands while naked with another naked guy.

NO BODY CONTACT WHEN
NAKED IN THE MEN'S LOCKER ROOM!!

His hand dripping wet was extended, waiting for my reciprocal movement. I didn't know what to do; I felt like Ralphie with his broken glasses trying desperately to concoct a story to tell his mom so she wouldn't know that he really did shoot his eye out.

The moment seemed to last forever. I looked down at HD's hairy hand, and then looked to the side and then...

I did it... I had no choice. I feel ashamed, I feel violated. But I did it. I shook his hand. Naked... Two men... It just ain't right.

I think I might have to find a new gym...

Time to Clean

I hate to clean, but I need things to be clean. I must admit, I'd much rather someone else clean for me. I had Chris, who came a couple of times each week to clean my house and do laundry, but she had to leave a couple of months ago.

So I've been doing household duties myself for a little while now, and I suppose it isn't all too bad. Like most things, once you get past the initial 5 or 10 minutes that suck, you get in a groove and then everything is easier.

But that has gotten me thinking more about cleaning; and, I realize there are many aspects of my life that need to be cleaned.

So, as I start transitioning to 2007, I have decided to try and clean and eliminate some of the waste from my life.

The easiest and probably most obvious place to start is all of the material waste I have accumulated.

It pains me to admit this, but I have become greedy. Or maybe I always have been greedy, but the last few years I've had the means to flex that greed.

Now there was a time when I was frugal and spendthrift. In college my parents would give me $5 that would last me for weeks (thank God my friends supplied me with endless beer!). My diet staple was rice, for all 3 meals.

In fact, my roommates would laugh at me because my entire diet for months at a time would be rice with a variety of, uhm, well, rather nasty toppings. I had rice with Parmesan cheese added to it, rice with catsup, rice with mustard, even rice with (yes, this is true; and, yes, I laugh at it too) grape jelly.

In medical school I lived with no water, or heat or electricity, for months at a time. I simply had no money, so I learned to adjust and tolerate it.

When I lived in Ann Arbor during residency, I would recycle religiously. As sport, I would try to fit an entire week's worth of trash into 1 small kitchen trash bag. I biked to work when feasible, and my car at the time nearly topped 40 mpg.

But something happened to me when I started making more money, and I think it probably happens to alot of people.

Suddenly the sport of frugality adopted due to the constraint of necessity was replaced by the vice of wastefulness triggered by the possibilities of excess.

The frugal car was replaced by the gas thirsty sport sedan. And soon after, the sport sedan was joined by the Suburban, and then the Suburban was replaced by an even more thirsty LandCruiser.

And the sport sedan for months now has just sat in my driveway, staring at me, constantly reminding me that it is being wasted while I rack up thousands of miles in the SUV at 12 miles/gallon.

I looked in my garage recently. There are 4 wheelers that haven't been ridden in years... There are perfectly functional beds that were replaced just because something else caught my eye. Waste...

In my closets, there are years worth of clothes that are stashed away, the victims of the next season's fashions. Waste...

In my outside storage room, there are two perfectly functional lawnmowers, even though I have been paying someone to mow my lawn. Waste...

In my shoe closet, I have enough shoes to make nearly any woman jealous - I'm talking alot of shoes here. And there are maybe 3 or 4 pair that I've worn in the last 3 months. Waste...

Material waste...

And I shudder to think how much time and energy I have spent to accumulate this waste. And I know that there are better ways I should have spent this time and energy.

So one of my goals for 2007 is to stop accumulating, and to begin shedding the material burdens that have anchored my need for more.

No more. No more waste. No more accumulation.

It's time to focus on necessity... It's time to clean...

Lucky

I sometimes think I'm the luckiest guy in the world.

Anna had her 3K class Christmas party today, so I joined the group to eat pizza and make smiley-face cookies.

I was the only dad there, which has stopped surprising me. I've been going to these class parties since my oldest started pre-school 4 years ago, and I can count on half a hand the number of times I haven't been the solitary dad.

But being the only dad there isn't exactly why I feel lucky. I mean, it's not like I'm cruising the school trying to pick up her friends' moms. Heh...

It's that I'm able to be there at all.

That I have a job that gives me the flexibility to set my own schedule and work at night... That I have the ability - I have no idea why or how! - to go through the day sleepless after and before working all night so I not only can take care of my kids but can participate actively in their events...

That I have the desire to sit on those tiny little pre-school chairs with a dozen 3 year olds jumping on me because I'm the only dad there; and, after all, dads are for jumping on...

Life is complex. Parenting is complex. It's easy, way too easy, to continually look to the future for a time when I'll have more money, or the kids will be out of diapers, or when the kids will be out of the house. Then, then everything will be perfect.

But if you always look ahead, look to the future, you don't see what is in front of you, what is now. And now, I've discovered, is pretty damn amazing, even when I'm getting jumped by a bunch of 3 year olds.

And that makes me the luckiest guy I know...

Get Your Geek On Triathlon Training

TriJack and troupe will be in Daytona Beach, Florida for the Get Your Geek On New Year's Triathlon. We haven't solidified the details, but we will have a late morning (maybe 11?) start based out of the Ocean Walk Resort. All 4 of the troupe will be competing, so ours will be a toddler-friendly distance...

Anyone in the Daytona area is welcome to join us to ring in the new year, tri style!

Ocean Walk has indoor pools for those that want to do the chlorine swim, or, as the name suggests, is beachside the Atlantic Ocean for those that prefer the salt swim.

The troupe is training hard for their first triathlon experience, as you can tell from the linked video. They have a 25 yard swim to complete tomorrow, then Sunday a brick... Ya gotta start 'em young, right? ;)

Listen to This

It isn't often that I'm introduced to a musical talent or song by which I am not only impressed but absolutely blown away. My friend KB told me about the Decemberists a few months ago, and I finally got around to downloading and listening to a few tracks last week.


Wow! I had to have more, then even more, and; before I knew it, I had their entire discography in my library.


Colin Meloy has a timeless voice, and each song weaves a multi-layered story that is as much instrumental ear candy as lyrical bliss.

If you haven't indulged, check it out. Click on the TriJack Audio tag to sample Here I Dreamt I Was an Architect from their 2002 disc entitled Castaways and Cutouts.
Crank it, and enjoy!

Changing Lives

I changed too many lives last night.

I don't like to change lives, because that usually means someone or their kid is about to die, or has cancer or a heart attack, or was murdered or raped.

I'm an ER doc. I take care of people when they are having the worst day of their life, and I never know how their day is going to affect me until the day after.

If I wake without detailed recollection of the night before, then it likely was an uneventful shift of colds and sprained ankles and gunshots to non-vital body parts.

But when I wake, like I did this morning, and immediately remember the people that abruptly entered and left my life last night, it usually means there was a lot of bad news. And it usually means that while they left me physically, they're still with me for the next few months and maybe years...

Like the 30 year old runner - yes, a runner, apparently 15 to 20 miles most weeks, and yes, 30 years old - with no health problem and no family history of early-age health problems who had what we call a widowmaker - a heart attack in the the worst possible anatomical location of the heart, the kind of heart attack that frequently kills people on the spot without even a chance of survival. He is alive, as of this morning, but he will never be the same.

Or the 56 year old guy with sudden onset of progressive leg weakness over the last couple of days. When I saw him, he couldn't even shift his legs in the bed. It royally sucked to tell him he had metastatic prostate cancer with spinal cord compression, essentially eliminating his chance of walking his daughter down the aisle at her January wedding. If he's alive for it...

Or the 42 year old guy who fell back off a ladder from a 2nd story roof, landed on his back and broke, nay shattered, his bony pelvis in such a way that he will have years of multiple staged surgeries before he has even a chance of a normal life.

Or the lady, and her 2 children and her in-laws, who sat sobbing but silent in disbelief when I told her that her husband was dead after he fell asleep driving and spun his car off the road into a tree.

Life sometimes sends us reminders that we are here on borrowed time. Nothing is really ours; we just use it and enjoy it for a few years and then it's gone. We're gone...

So we have to use what we have, what we are given, and make it count. There are no re-do's, there is no second chance. There is no time for regrets, and no place for re-living each yesterday.

There is only the here and now, and maybe there is a tomorrow.

And that, my friends, lets me appreciate everything I have, and everything around me, in a way I can't possibly describe... It keeps me satisfied, and it lets me know I'm complete even when I feel shattered.

And I couldn't ask for anything more...

Thanks for joining me for My Daily Spin.

Drowning...

"I cannot believe you didn't drown..."

My swim coach didn't exactly say that, but she could have summarized her critique of my observed dolphin-like prowess, or not, with that simple statement.

Now, to her credit, and mine, she did recognize that I have incredible potential to compete with the likes of the Thorpedo.

"You move well through the water..."

And that was as positive as she could be...

She then told me, over the course of 45 or so minutes, the slight position changes that I could make that would make me go from a struggling 2 minute 100 yard swim x 1 to a slick, shark-like beast with sub 50 minute ironman swims. Oh, wait... That was what I dreamed last night she told me...

But let's get back to reality...

So on my first session with her today, my coach told me, in no specific order of importance, that I would do great if I could just do the following:

Get my head higher... Keep my elbows up... Don't bend my knees so much when I kick ("STOP RUNNING WITH YOUR KICK!!!") Rotate your body more... Rotate your body evenly, your hips and your upper body together as a unit... Keep your elbows up... Breathe... Breathe every 3rd stroke, always... Keep your ankles plantar-flexed... Keep your eyes focused in front of you...

Hmm. This is going to take some time! Well, at least she layed it all out for me... No sugar-coating this ego... Give it to me like you see it, and I'll take it and run... Or swim...

So, I think I have some work to do in the pool.

And with that huge list of things to work on, and about a dozen drills which she swears will help, I think I better just go jump in a lake... And swim!

Thanks for joining My Daily Spin.

Rejection

I had just completed a solid hour of vigorous stretching when I stood up and my old friend ITBS made an unwanted visit.

For the month prior to and the few days after my marathon a week ago, my iliotibial band on my right knee had been hurting. Oh, I've done everything you're supposed to do - ice, elevation, ace-wrap, scheduled ibuprofen. I even considered injecting myself with celestone to decrease the inflammation, but decided that may be a little over the top.

But as I walked away from the gym today, it occurred to me that my body has rejected what I have been doing to it. Muscoloskeletal pain that isn't from a particular injury - like getting hit by a car, or tripping on the pavement - is usually from overuse or misuse, or a little of both.

Think about it, our bodies are essentially the same. We all have the same iliotibial band, the same patella tendon, the same bony pelvis, the same femoral condyle. Unless your anatomy is surgically altered or congenitally misaligned, you have the same anatomy as me as Norman Stadler as Lance Armstrong.

So why would some people have ITBS from preparing for a marathon and others don't? The answer lies in how you are preparing - your running form, your rate of mileage increase, your recovery times. To perform well over any length of time, you have to have proper form, proper pace/timing, and proper rest. If you don't do these things the proper way, you will develop an injury or pain. It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when. Overuse or misuse leads to injury.

I have overused and misused my body, and it is rejecting me. And then it occurred to me that overuse or misuse also is the cause of rejection with relationships.

Think about the reasons you have rejected, or were rejected by, previous significant others or potential significant others. Now I'm not really talking about the platinum double D type you lusted over at work for a couple of months until you saw her picking her teeth with the corner of a manila envelope...

I'm talking about the girl who shared your passions; who always knew what and when and how to say the right words; who had a smile that could disarm nuclear tension, and a confidence that could not be broken; who made you laugh and who laughed at you... That's the girl... That's the girl I'm talking about.

Why is there rejection from the apparent perfect person for you? I realized today that it's a combination of overuse and misuse. So for a relationship to work properly, just like for an athlete to work properly for any duration, there must be proper form, proper pace, and proper rest.

I think the proper form portion is fairly easy to understand, but hard to do. You have to have the zone 1 base relationship training mastered, and you have to consistently build on your zone 1. You have to be respectful, and considerate, offer criticism constructively and reluctantly. You have to be able to open yourself, to let yourself be loved and respected, which I think sometimes is harder than its counterpart. You have to give your time, and make her feel like it is truly hers. Proper form... Perfect form...

Proper pace and proper timing are requisites for a relationship to work and not end in rejection. You can't jump straight to zone 3 or 4 early on, or you will never develop the zone 1 base necessary to sustain it.

And both persons have to be at a point in their life when they can and want to pursue a new relationship. I think this one hits me harder than the others. She has to be at the bottom of the mountain to start the climb. If she is still falling from the last unsuccessful climb, then it will be impossible to start a new one until she hits rock bottom and recovers. And recovers...

Finally, for a relationship to work it needs rest. It's inconceivable and harmful to expect two independent people to want to /need to /have to spend all of their time together. You can't grow as a couple unless you grow as individuals. And it's hard to grow as an individual if you don't occasionally exercise your individuality.

That's what it takes, at least in part, to make a relationship work, and it's the same thing that it takes to make a trained body work. You have to nurture each, paying attention to form, timing, and rest, or you will be rejected.

So I learned today that I've been rejected by my body; and, I think I may have gained a bit of insight into what it takes for a relationship to work...

Not bad for a day of stretching. Now it's time to go ice my damned knee!

Thanks for joining me for My Daily Spin.

Planning

Exciting things are happening at The Daily Spin. I've added two races to the schedule, the Peachtree Road Race in Atlanta on July 4 and Ironman Wisconsin on September 9.

I'm looking at possible races to add in March, maybe an olympic distance tri (open to race suggestions?) versus a cycling century. The other idea floating around in this way-too-active thought process is the Arizona Desert Cycling Camp mountain week on 3/31 - 4/8. Seven days of climbing the southeastern Arizona and New Mexico mountains with 74-103 miles per day. Wicked! Anybody participated in this camp?

I now have some of the best coaches in triathlon, Roch Frey and Paul Huddle at multisports.com, guiding my preparation for Ironman. And I have my first session with my swim coach on Monday!

My 6 year old daughter Emma ran her first ever half mile run this afternoon in about 5 1/2 minutes to start her preparation for the Mercedes Kids Marathon in February. My 5 year old daughter Tess also is registered, but when she realized today that she would have to run and couldn't ride her bike for the race she lost interest (for now...)! She's too cute!

Until next time, thanks for joining me for My Daily Spin!

News from Heather Fuhr

Ok, I promised some exciting news...

So I was in the ED last night talking to one of my residents about a patient. Nothing too exciting or life threatening, so I am checking email while we are formulating the best management plan...

and...

then...

I see it...

Heather Fuhr... Yes, read it again, I had to... Heather Fuhr... As in superbadasswoneverytriathlonyoucouldeverimagine Heather Fuhr... As in Kona champion Heather Fuhr... As in 15 time Ironman winner Heather Fuhr...

An email to me... Read it again, I had to... An email to me from Heather Fuhr confirming that yes, I have a slot in... drum roll please....

2007 IRONMAN WISCONSIN!!!

Oh yea, it's on baby! It is so on...

Time to Rest

This will be hard, much harder than anticipated. I need to take a few weeks off and let my body rest.

The problem is that I don't really feel like I need to rest my body. I want to train. I want to run... I want to bike... I want to lift and swim and stretch... I want to feel the adrenaline pumping through me, screaming in its chemical tongue to run harder... Faster... Better...

I thought that when the 26.2 was done, I would be ready, mentally and physically, for a break. But the mental part just isn't here. Not now... Not yet...

But my body says rest, so mind must comply.

Well, not completely. While I PT my ITBS and recover my hip flexors, I'll still be doing a little swimming, God knows I don't need any swim time off. I need to; no, I must learn some decent swim technique if I am going to survive these long course tri's in the up-coming season.

Which brings me to some exciting news about a particular filled IM race that I am trying to find a way in which to compete. If I'm able to do what I am thinking, I'll have some super-cool stuff to report soon!

So check back often, and thanks for joining me on My Daily Spin.

Josh's Girl, (or Mistress Chemo)

My friend Josh has started losing his hair from the chemotherapy that hopefully will conquer his cancer. This is one of the many battles he's fighting. Check out a new My Daily Spin feature, an mp3 download of the following text, with extras. To listen, just click on the Trijack Audio tag.


She sneaks in and takes you when you least expect it. You know she's coming, and you know what she wants. You just don't know when, or how.

It almost always happens in the shower the first time. She gets the first pieces while you are distracted by steam and heat. You turn off the water, look down, and you know what's happened.

Then she leaves, but you know she'll be back. You wonder when, and you wonder where.

You don't tell any of your friends, because you want to see if they can tell that you are in some way different, if she has affected you as much as she has affected your perception of you.

And then she strikes again, in the shower. This time she leaves no doubt what it is she wants, and she takes it freely and aggressively.

Her visits become more frequent. She strikes when you are asleep, and you don't even realize it until you wake. Empowered, she then strikes anytime, any place.

She stays until her hunger is satisfied, until there is nothing left of you to take. Then she moves on.

And you are left hairless and conspicuous, and everyone who sees you points and whispers. They know, and you know, that you are sick, maybe dying.

But they don't know that when she took the good, she also took the bad. And you can see that the good is gone, but you have to wait months to discover if the bad is gone.

If she did take the bad, and it is gone, she'll be the best girl you've ever had. And if not, if she only took the good but left you with the cancer still eating at you; well, maybe there's another girl to give you a twirl in the shower.

Rich and I showing love for a brother...

My first marathon - the report

Goal #1 was to finish. Done. Goal #2 was to finish under 4 hours. Done.

My 4 kids, my sister, and I arrived in Memphis Friday night just in time to visit the Expo and get the race packet. There were icicles hanging from the city fountains in front of the civic center. Icicles. Icicles and I don't get along...

There were so many eating options along Beale Street and Peabody Place and an electric atmosphere; but, we settled on the kid friendly chain across the street from our hotel. After 90 minutes of awful service from a friendly but overwhelmed server (I swear my 6 year old daughter was taller than this lady...), we got to sleep at a kid friendly 2230. Except of course I didn't sleep. Not then anyway...

Race morning finally arrived. I was so excited that I was out the door at 0530 to see if there was some miraculous overnight global warming sensation. No such luck...

I started in the 3rd wave, and everything went smoothly. I latched onto the 3:45 pace group and cruised through the 1st 2 miles. But I felt pedestrian at that pace, probably from the amazing atmosphere and bands and the cool weather (which I was starting to realize was actually my friend!)

So I picked up the pace, and I ran 7:45 pace for miles 3 through 7 or 8. I realized then that I needed to pay more respect to those unknown miles, 20-26, and slow it down.

So I backed down to around 8:30-8:40 pace. I still felt great! And I had my big goofy smile on frequently enough to get more than a few comments from the volunteers/supporters about smiling through the pain.

Oh yea, the pain. Hmm, what pain? Its funny... Every run over the last 4-6 weeks my right knee had pained me for miles 2 or 3 until 7 or 8, then been ok after that. It had been getting a little worse, and the cold weather seemed to exacerbate it. In fact, when I was going to the Expo the night before, it hurt just walking. Ditto on race morning.

But now I had gone for 7 or 8 miles and my knee was great! A couple of hints of the pain, but basically nada... I was stoked...

Now I had needed to pee since I was at the starting line. Note to self: just go pee; don't worry about losing "your spot" at the front of your corrall. And I tried at mile 15, but both porta-johns were occupied. Mile 16 brought me relief, but brought on the aches.

When I made the pit stop, it was the first time I had stopped running since the start. And as soon as I sprinted out of the aid station to catch the group with whom I had been running, I knew I'd made a mistake by stopping.

Suddenly my hip flexors ached, and then my feet ached. And then I could feel the blister over my 1st MTP on my right foot. And when the physical aches begin, the mental aches follow close behind.

My pace dropped. At mile 20, I did what I was hoping not to do: I walked. I walked for about 3 or 4 minutes. And when I started running again, everything - EVERYthing - was stiffer and more sore. I made a vow to not walk for that long again.

For mile markers 21 and 22 I walked the aid station, then started running after each. And then marker 23 came, and I knew, I knew I was going to make it. I had more than 30 minutes to go 3.2 miles and still finish under 4 hours.

And then something funny happened at mile 24. Completely unexpected... I ran through the aid station, and I knew I was so close. And I broke down.

Oh, physically I was fine. But something happened emotionally. I kept running, but I was crying. And not even crying really, but maybe even bawling. Face contorted, eyes blurry, tears flowing... Crying.

My dad... I wanted my dad there with me. To run with me. To see me running, finishing, flourishing... It was strange; I was crying just like the day 10 years ago when we buried him.

I passed the 26 mile marker, and turned right into the AAA baseball stadium for the finish. Never have I been so happy to get in a baseball stadium!

After sprinting through the finish, I stumbled over to the chip-takers. The girl reached down to cut my tie, only to find that at some point along the 26.2 miles my tie already had broken and my chip was lost. Heh...

So, technically I guess, according to the St. Jude Marathon, I didn't complete my goal #1 - to finish. I guess I won't be an official finisher, because my chip is somewhere on the streets of Memphis.

But I have the soreness, and I'll soon I'll have the photo - the photo of me running, nay sprinting, under the FINISH sign in 3:55.45.

The door

In the end, when all is said and done, when I have no more races to run or patients to heal, when I have no more breaths to inspire and no more sights to behold, let it be spoken that I was never afraid to open the door.

We only have one go around this world.

Opportunities come, and then fade away. Desires burn, then flicker out. We are beautiful when young, then wrinkle and sag when old.

If you don't look on the other side of the door, you'll never know what could have been. I want to look. I need to look. I have to look.

That is why I'm running 26.2 miles tomorrow. I have to look.