Becoming

I realized this week that I'm not going to become an Ironman.

You see, I took the kids to the beach for a few days this week. We go a few times a year to Sandestin, on the Florida panhandle. It's an easy drive but a world away.

Although they are young, the kids feel ownership there. They've explored most of the couple thousand acres beachside and bayside. They know which is our table at Roberto's, the pizza place where we go at least twice each trip a couple hundred yards from the condo. They know every nook and cranny of the mega-playground also walkable from the condo. It's their place... No, it's our place...

I wish more people, moms and dads, had the chance to spend several consecutive days uninterrupted with their kids. It is an amazing experience. I'm talking EVERY minute of the day with them. I think that's a rather unusual thing these days to spend every minute of the day with your kid. The rewards are priceless.

My 3 year old Anna has recently learned to create and tell stories. Now she's heard me tell countless stories, always starting "Once upon a time." Hers always start "Once a little time..." I smile every time because she knows she is so right. Her stories usually are about mommies and daddies and little girls named Anna (surprise!). But she weaves into the plot monsters and tornadoes and houses and volcanoes. She gravitates toward destruction, which is 180 degrees contradictory to her sugar sweet demeanor.

And she always wants you to guess what she is going to say.
Today, she was telling us a story, "And then the su..."
And I'm supposed to guess the word she is going to say.
Me: "Sun."
Anna: "no, sunn....."
Me: "sunny"
Anna: "sunnd.."
Me: "Sunday"
Anna: "no, sunday..."
Me, now laughing "I just said Sunday..."
Anna: "Nooooo... sunndyday"
Me: "Sunny day?"
Anna: "Noooo... sunndyday"
Me: "It's not sunny day?"
Anna: "Noooo.... sunndyday"
Me: "I don't know then."
Anna: "Guess daddy!!"
Me: "I don't know what it is, what is it Anna?"
Anna: "It's sunny day!!"
Me: "But I said that a bunch of times..."
Anna: "But I didn't hear you..."

And the story goes on...

I had 2 occasions this week when I was struck with the idea that my life is absolutely beautiful.

The first was Tuesday when we were building a sandcastle just out of reach of the ocean's waves. There was no time, only the moment. The kids were quiet, each digging, pouring, and shaping the sand. There were people around us, but the sea breeze and the crashing waves drowned all other sounds. The only noise - wind, and waves. Kids working diligently, healthy and beautifully happy. Middle of a weekday when most people are sitting at a desk. And my thought - I'm here. This is where I've worked to be. I don't need anything else, because I have it all right here.

The second moment was of similar thought process but it occurred this morning when we were all in the hot tub. 9 am. Azure skies. Quiet. The only noises were the water jets and the kids' laughter. And my recurring thought - I'm here.

We often get trapped into always looking toward the future. Our goals for the future too easily control our lives in the present. But we can't shortchange the present or we'll end up with an unappreciated past. And you never know when the future will stop following the present.

On June 24 I'll complete an Ironman. But I won't change. I won't become an Ironman.

I realized this week that I don't need to become anything - I am everything I want to be.

Addict

I think I finally realized the source of my increasing fatigue.

You see, I am an addict.

There, I admit it. Now that's the hardest part, right?

And now since I've taken that first step, let me explain. I've battled this caffeine addiction for years. It started when I was in high school, innocently, with a sporadic cup. By the time of junior year I would go through phases of an entire pot of coffee a day.

In college, I was largely caffeine free, which I suspect had something to do with the fact that if I was drinking something, it was almost always beer. If it wasn't beer, I wasn't drinking it.

But since medical school, me and coffee have been best buds. There have been a couple of short-term caffeine-free phases, but none for several years now.

At the end of last week, I took a caffeine count. On average, I drink about 40 ounces of coffee and about 24 ounces of diet Mt Dew each day. WAY. TOO. MUCH.

I think my caffeine levels stay so high that any little dip during the day makes me feel tired. And thus, I declare myself an addict.

Friday morning I put it down. I finished my coffee, and that was it. Done. Finished. No more.

Saturday I felt awful. Slept the day and night away, and when I wasn't asleep I was a zombie. I didn't get the headache, but only because I was alternating tylenol and ibuprofen every few hours.

And then, this morning, I woke at 0800 and felt almost great. I've felt little fatigue, and I still haven't had a headache despite having no analgesics since this morning.

I'm hopeful that I can continue caffeine-free. It will help my training by letting me feel a more honest fatigue so I will know easier when to rest. It will help my wallet by avoiding all those damn Starbucks trips.

And it will help me, because I don't want to be an addict to anything.

Time Management

"You will face new challenges at each step along the way to becoming an Ironman."

This wise warning was offered to me by an experienced Iron(wo)man when I started this journey to Ironman last fall. And as I get further into this process, I understand clearer and deeper the significance.

The challenges come in many forms - the challenge of preventing and overcoming injury, of financing the sport, of finding the motivation to train when all I really want to do is sleep.

But the most immediate challenge to me right now is the challenge of time.

How do I find more hours to make increasingly large deposits into the Ironman bank?

When the sessions were rather short but frequent, it was easy to manipulate everything else to accommodate the training. But now there is little I do that doesn't require at least a dedicated hour, if not 2 or 3 or more. And it won't start to decrease until taper, which is still a long way away.

Last week Emma and Anna started soccer practice, and this has committed me to 5-7 hours a week previously (relatively) free. Tess started cheerleading - 1 1/2 hours a week. This is in addition to the 2 hours a week of ballet, the 3 hours a week spent sitting in carline, the 5 1/2 hours a week spent driving to pick up kids or drop off kids (to/from school, to/from their mom's house), the 42-44 hours a week that I spend teaching and treating in the ED.

As the family obligations stack and the training volume increases, the thing most easily sacrificed is sleep. But that's what I probably need more than anything to help absorb the increased training.

Many regard nutrition as 4th triathlon sport. For me, right now, I feel like time management is becoming just as much of a sport as the swim bike and run.

I just need to find more hours somehow. And more sleep.

Thanks for joining me for My Daily Spin.

Blogger Lunch

Mr. Blogger ate my post. Grrr.

Spring Haiku

Blue skies and warm sun,

No more chill to keep me caged.

Now it's time to ride.

About Me Changes

My "About Me" needs to change.

No, I won't admit to having changed. But my environment has changed, and I can definitively say that I am happy with the changes.

First, I've reached a kid milestone - they all are out of diapers! My youngest finally has graduated to the underoos. No more wet wipes, no more late night trips to Publix when I realized at their bedtime that I had used the last pull-up, no more diapers to pull from the washing machine when someone decided to help with the laundry, no more little swimmers, no more... Diaper free!!!!

Second, I no longer can claim to be trying to learn how to swim. Know what?? I know how to swim! When I was first introduced to this triathlon thing back in July, I had never once swam a lap in a pool. Never. My first sprint tri included a 600 yard swim, and I was doggie paddling/back floating for about 3/4 of it. In January my longest non-stop swim was 750 yards. My long swim this week was 2000 yards straight. 2000 yards!! I'm certainly not fast, but I'm steady. And last time I checked, steady finishes.

Finally, I must admit that I'm starting to enjoy running. I've always been a decent runner - I could do a 5k with no training at any point in my life (although I rarely did). But I always have hated to actually run just to run. But it slowly is growing on me. I think when I ran without a real purpose in my non-training life, I would always run at the same speed and about the same distance over and over and over. I could never go farther, because I would run too fast. Long runs, tempo runs, interval runs - all foreign concepts. Now, I know I can run slow if I need to run long, and that will help me run fast for shorter distances. My favorite runs now are the mid-distance tempo runs - not too fast, not too slow, lots of ground covered.

Time passes no matter our reaction to it. We can exist, or we can live. We can stagnate, or we can train.

Little things like learning to use modern plumbing are just as monumental to me as swimming for more than a mile straight. It's progress. And progress lets me know that I'm not just existing, I'm living.

Thanks for joining me for My Daily Spin.

Bike Crash

Can you imagine the adrenaline surge just before the frame snapped!!!???

One Step at a Time

Life doesn't happen in leaps and bounds. It happens one step at a time.

That little idea kept creeping into my mind yesterday when I took 10 miles worth of little steps on the treadmill.

10 miles running for me may as well have been a marathon this time last year. And I never, not for a second never had a thought of it wasn't even considering it, would have thought that right now I would be running 10 miles at a time, and 25 miles a week. Not to mention cycling for 30 or 40 miles at a time and swimming a mile at a time. Unthinkable.

Someone at work last night was talking among a group of us about running, and he said that "5 miles is nothing when you're an Ironman like DV..." Wow! Even though I am not, not yet anyway, that was the first time I received this nod of Ironman respect.

You see, Ironman is about more than the distance. More than about the 2.4 miles, the 112 miles, the 26.2 miles. The distance is the leaps and the bounds.

But Ironman is about the baby steps. It's about putting one foot in front of the other consistently, and routinely. It's about learning how to swim without a lesson, and then practicing for hours on end until you are swimming straight mile repeats. It's about finding those 10 or 12 or 15 hours a week to train when you have no extra hours to offer. It's about accepting that even though today's training session was crappy, the fact that there was a session today means progress. It's about tossing the superfluous and embracing the necessities.

It's about doing what you believe in to become what you don't know if you are.

It's like life.

And life doesn't happen in leaps and bounds. It happens one step at a time.

I Believe

I believe that falling repeatedly makes me a master at picking myself up.

I believe that before every training session I have the choice of being a coward, and going home, or being an Ironman. Coward, or Ironman.... Coward, or Ironman... It's been a long time since I skipped any training.

I believe that the things we appreciate most are earned through patience, perseverance, and sweat. Keep your gifts; I'd rather work for it.

I believe that expression is the most underrated quality of a person. I marvel at a person who, unlike me, can do it consistently, clearly, and concisely.

I believe the children are our future. Teach them well and let... (oops, got carried away... uhm, no, I will not admit that I actually know or like this song. All apologies, Whitney. And remember, crack is wack...)

I believe that newly-learned techniques and movements proceed at lightspeed, until they become habitual, and then they proceed at snailspeed. Minor tweaks with major results always happen at snailspeed; never at lightspeed.

I believe that the more I hurt when training, the less I will suffer when racing.

I believe that given the opportunity to walk away or persevere, there will be a time when I am so weak and weary, so tired and hungry, that I will consider the former, but choose the latter because I have chosen each day to be an Ironman, not a Coward. An Ironman, not a Coward...

I believe.

Continuity of Care

The first time, they took his legs. This time, they took his heart.

There isn't supposed to be continuity of care in the emergency department. People go to their primary doctor for most of their problems, and they come see me for life or limb threatening emergencies. That's how it's supposed to work. But our healthcare machine doesn't always work the way it's designed...

I work more than any of the other physicians in our department. It's a choice, not a necessity, and I like what I do. No, I love what I do. Can't imagine doing anything else. My residents think it's funny that they can look through the computerized records of every patient in our department at any given time and I have taken care of at least half of them previously. Continuity of care, in a way.

The people that come to the ER regularly are usually the people with severe and unrelenting diseases, or with personality disorders (who have been banned from "regular" doctors), or who have been labelled "drug-seeking."

Of the many I see fairly regularly, there are a few that I have become attached to. I look forward to them, grow giddy when I see their name appear on my computer, and greet them fondly with an appropriate embrace.

I lost one of them this morning.

I was a new attending in our ER when I first met M. He came by ambulance after suffering a missile wound to the abdomen, his spine shattered by the .45 in the name of street justice. He would never walk again. He was 18 then.

Over the last several years I saw him at least every couple of months, sometimes every few days. His crippled legs developed blood clots, his non-emptying bladder developed UTI's, his post-op abdomen developed obstructions. He lost weight, became malnourished, and developed a painful condition called SMA syndrome that causes the bloodflow to the upper intestines to be restricted with every meal.

And despite all of this misery, M was always pleasant. He never complained, although he had every reason to do so. He was a master of the XBox 360 and competed in the local Madden tournaments (once he blistered a thumb so badly from XBox that I had to debride and bandage it with burn-wound dressings...).

I never once saw a family member or friend with him, although he insisted to me that he had many of both.

Today, after he arrived DOA from another gun shot, this time a lethal strike through his heart, I met his family. Dozens arrived... They cried, and I did too.

What could a 23 year old paralyzed chronically ill guy possibly do that is so atrocious that the penalty is execution?

I don't know, maybe he was still a thug, maybe he incited something today, maybe he had wronged someone who was hell-bent on retaliation. I probably will never know, and I don't think it much matters.

The first time, they took his legs. This time, they took his heart...

Sometimes continuity of care can be painful.

Disclaimer: Any patient information has been alterred by name, age, gender, location, and in other ways to protect individual privacy.

Want a Free SwiMP3?

Today marks the first day of fundraising for me for the Race for a Reason/Challenged Athletes Foundation.

This organization is a non-profit that helps challenged athletes compete. It helps with equipment such as special chairs and prosthetics, and it helps with therapists and trainers who help them get to the starting line.

If you have ever gotten a little motivation from watching Sarah Reinertsen cross the finish line at Kona, or from seeing Major David Rozelle finish in 2006 at IM CDA and Kona, then you owe the Challenged Athletes Foundation your support.

What does this have to do with a free Swim mp3? Well, some of you may know that I bought a new Finis Swim mp3 a few weeks ago.

I've used it twice, and I decided that it is too bulky on the back of my head for my taste. Now, don't get me wrong, there are tons of people who love this product, and nearly every review I've read raves about it. I think that it isn't good for me because I still am way too conscious of my head position so that I constantly "feel" it.

Anyway, it works great. Sound quality is excellent. It holds about a 4 hour battery charge (although I've only actually used it twice for about 45 minutes each time), and holds about 30 songs.

Free. Free (including domestic shipping) to the first person that emails me and tells me they want the player and will donate $50 towards my CAF goal. You don't have to donate the money until you are confirmed by me as the first, unless you want to donate anyway. And it's a helluva good reason (and a tax deductible one) to donate anyway...

So that's the deal. Want a free Finis Swim mp3? Zap me a message (my email is at the top of my sidebar).

Thanks for joining me on My Daily Spin.

Training

She's all I think about. Whether I'm driving my kids to school or intubating a patient in cardiac arrest, she's right there with me.

She's the last thing I'm aware of before I sleep, and the first thing in my mind when I wake.

If I go a day without her, I feel awful. Miserable. Forgotten my mother's birthday miserable. So I try not to let a day pass when I don't give to her at least a little bit of me.

And she repays me like nothing I've experienced before. She gives me confidence like Ali and speed like Sugar Shane (ok, I wish she gave me speed like Sugar Shane, but a boy can dream can't he?). She tempers and humbles me, humiliates and rebuilds me.

She makes me hurt. Oh my God, she makes me hurt. But I beg for more, insatiable like Mardi Gras gluttony.

I buy things for her. Little gifts here and there, sacrifices to the greater cause of our relationship. She uses my gifts to hurt me more, and it only makes me want to repeat the cycle, again and again and again.

She controls me, even without making demands. She puts me to bed early, forces me to abide to a one beer a week rule, and laughs at me when I remember ever smoking a cigarette. Yet I've learned to accept her rules, knowing that we will be stronger by avoiding the habits of my former I.

And her wishes and desires and needs have become my wishes and desires and needs, so that we are symbiotic in this creation.

And as one, for better or for worse, richer or poorer, in sickness or in health, we will face all obstacles thrown at us on June 24, and on September 9, and on any future days when we might happen to find 17 hours to swim, bike, and run our way over 140.6 miles.

My girl... My girl...

Focus

focus
is the
lanyard
that saves
you
from the
repercussive
spin of drift.

Inseparable

Last week I was in a funk of uncertain etiology. Maybe it was the training hours starting to add up, or maybe it was the kids needing a little more attention and chaperoning than normal. Maybe it was just one of those weeks...


There are times in life when you have to stop thinking of all the reasons that you should or could or would do something, and you just need to shut up and do it.


I used to be a thinker. Or maybe I am still a thinker, I am just learning to suppress it.

Every decision, every fork in the road I would analyze with the detail of an archaeologist whispering away the flecks of sand from a 20,000 year old skeleton. I wouldn't order from a menu without reading EVERY single option, including a perusal of the dessert menu just in case I needed to plan on extra room for an irresistible treat (oh and believe me, I need to!). I wouldn't go to the gym without asking myself a million times why don't you just sit down and drink a beer and watch the football game like every single one of your friends?


But things are changing. Circumstances are changing. Goals are changing. Me, I'm not changing; but I am adapting to the changes around me.


I look forward to the gym like never before. I'm talking about 3 trips to the gym yesterday - yep, count 'em, a morning stretching-core routing, then home to fuel, then back for a swim session, then off to meet some friends for lunch, then one last time for a dreadmill run prior to work.... Unheard of for me... 3 workouts in one day! I must be effing insane!


[Which reminds me of one of the better lines from the movie Breach, in theatres now... Hannsen says of himself, "I must be either insanely brave, or just plain insane, or maybe both..." Check out the movie if you get a chance...]


But back to the thinking. One of our fellow tri-bloggers taught me a while back to just stop thinking about that which you have to do, and do it. I can sit here all day and think of a million reasons why I should skip my swim today, or I can get off my ass and go swim. Know what? I don't think about it anymore, I just swim.


And that, my friends, is progress. When you are able to do what needs to be done without trying to talk yourself out of it, without sitting at that fork for 20 minutes trying to reinvent daily why you are on this journey, you are becoming inseparable from your goals.


And that is what I want... I want to be so ingrained in what is important to me right now; teaching and loving my kids, helping those who are suffering, and training for the upcoming Ironman season, that I am inseparable from it.


Man this is going to be one helluva spring and summer! I can. not. wait. for my first 70.3, the Florida Half Ironman in May! Train on, my brothers and sisters, and thanks for joining me for My Daily Spin.

Singing Cowboy

The best anti-smoking PSA I've seen.

Life Press

Sometimes I feel like the demands of life are an Olympic bar and each responsibility is a separate plate. The job is a 45# one, the kids are 2 45#'s, the house a 35#, training maybe a 25#.

And me, I'm trying to press that bar successfully.

Now any of you that have spent any time pressing know the importance of technique. A successful press requires perfect form, with feet shoulders width apart, knees nearly fully extended, wrists extended and elbows pointing forward. The motion should be all upper body - no lower body cheating allowed. Straight up, then slightly back as the bar extends over your head.

Sometimes I feel like that bar is so loaded with responsibilities that I'm maxed out. And any additional plates will force me to break form and use my legs, or, even worse, send me crashing to the floor in defeat.

I guess that's why flexibility, and compromise, is important, so that I won't be so bull-headed about perfect press form and will let myself use my legs for a little extra oomph when needed. That extra oomph might just keep me from crashing.

And that's also why repetition is important. If I practice enough, get fluid and strong enough, I will master the form and be able to handle a heavier load. My responsibilities sure don't seem to diminish as I get older, so the capability to gradually handle more seems a necessity.

But lately, it seems like there's been an extra 10# plate added to just one side, knocking off the entire balance of the bar. And that one, that one I haven't figured out how to handle yet...

Great Training Day, and a Wallflower

Friday: Swim 1000y TT 20:45

Run 2m WU (7:31 pace), then

1m repeats

(6:44,6:22,7:31,6:12)

Saturday: Run Easy 2m with kids

Sunday: Sick (gave up after 3 unplanned stops in 1st mile of run)

Monday: Run 7m (59:59)

Stretch/core (30m)

Bike 21.8m (64 min)

Swim 1500y (500 wu, then

5x100

(1:42,1:36,1:34,1:32,1:33),

then 10x50 (all :41-46s)

Today was fun! I finally got to take my bike for her maiden voyage (why are things like bikes, and cars, always considered she's?) I learned how a bike is supposed to feel, finally. You see, my first tri bike came from ebay and naive me bought a 51cm bike because it was a good deal and it was a Cervelo and that was the only brand tri bike I ever had seen.

And funny thing is, I didn't even realize it was too small for me until probably 3 or 4 months after I bought it when I was complaining to my friend JM about how I couldn't stay aero for more than a minute or 2. That's when she informed me that for tri bikes size does matter... Light bulb moment! I see...

So today I took my properly fit bike for its maiden voyage and stayed aero the entire hour! I did realize that I need to lower the cockpit somehow; I didn't feel aero enough. Heh, maybe that's why I felt good for the whole hour. Hmmm. So I flipped the stem, and that lowered it by a couple of inches. I dropped the clip on aerobars (I am totally lusting after the HED aerobars with the third brake lever - I gotta get me one of those!) so that they are at a slightly negative slope. I've taken out all of the spacers. Any other suggestions???

I just finished reading The Perks of Being a Wallflower by Stephen Chbosky. I didn't realize it until I downloaded the photo that it is classified as "adolescent fiction." This is fitting, but I swear it was in the plain ole literature section not the teenager section at the local bookstore. Anyway, I guess in many ways I'm just an old adolescent anyhow...

The entire text is a series of letters (this kind of book has some special name which I'm probably supposed to remember from Ms Frucci's 10th grade English class, but - sorry Ms F - I have no clue what it is...) from a 10th grader named Charlie to a never-named recipient described only as someone who wouldn't sleep with a girl just because he could. Hmm.

Charlie is one messed up little dude. He's depressed and occasionally psychotic (in a seriously mental health need-a-psychiatrist kind of way). The story is about Charlie's first year of high school, a series of highs (some literally) and lows as he finds love in a group of friends, makes peace with his football hero brother and older sister, experiments with pot and LSD, and laments the loss of his Aunt Helen. There is an overwhelming sense that there is something more to Charlie that forces his social awkwardness, and that something finally is revealed in the last 10 pages (but ya have to read it to find it out!).

It's a fun read that forces you to reminisce about high school; and, if you're like me, when you read those last 10 pages you suddenly can identify wholeheartedly with the troubled Charlie. Grab a copy and see for yourself!

Thanks for joining me for My Daily Spin.

Mercedes Race Report (Troupe)

Today was the 2nd race of the season for 2 members of the TriJack Troupe, Tess and Emma. They raced the last mile of the Mercedes Kids Marathon in Birmingham.

So I was new to the kids marathon format until we started this adventure a few months ago. Each registered kid, and there were around 4000, ran 25.2 miles individually between October and today, then completed the last mile of the marathon together this morning.

Emma has been counting the days until racetime, even telling me yesterday how she was going to sprint at the finish to take 1st place. Tess wasn't quite as excited, although her interest level did increase dramatically when I promised ice cream after the race (how anyone can want ice cream when it is 25 degrees is beyond my comprehension...).

They divided the 4000 kids by grade, so Emma started at 11:00 with the 1st graders. She had told me for weeks that she wanted to run by herself, and I had talked myself into being ok with that, but at the last minute she decided she wanted me to run with her. Cool!

That girl ran the entire way, passed tons of peeps, and then finished with a kick that Carl Lewis would be proud of. Final time - 9:09.

I hurried back to the starting line for Tess's 11:15 start. She was a little more nervous, but was fighting the cold and a little nausea like a champ. She ran for the first half mile, then did a 100 yard power-walk, and then finished running! She was so proud to hear her name at the finish line. Final time - 12:27.

The kids collected their medals, and both have already decided that next year they want to "run another marathon!"

TriJack Gets Pimped

While the Kahuna is getting stripped, TriJack is getting pimped in a techno kind of way.

You see, I tend to do things kinda old-fashioned. I like tuxedos and old Cadillacs, I open your car door even if we're not on a date, and I'd rather have a person look real and flawed than plastic and perfect.

And that's how I've been doing my training - bare bones old school grinding it out based on how I feel on any given day. But things are changing.

My motivation and goals in triathlon have transitioned from stepping up to a friendly challenge from my friend Mark to do a sprint tri with him last summer to racing, not just finishing, 2 ironmans this year. Big step up, without a lot of the baby steps along the way.

In taking that step, I'm starting to realize that I need the resources to support me. For that first sprint tri last summer, I bought a tri-bike off ebay (which turned out to be about 5 cm in frame size too small - I'm so naive!), a timex watch and a pair of swim goggles. That's all I needed. Problem is, the only thing I've added to my equipment since then is a pair of fins.

My friends, TriJack is about to get pimped... My new bike, the Cervelo p2sl, has arrived. And I've ordered a Computrainer which hopefully will be arriving within the next few days. I think I'm more excited about this than I am about the bike.

The concept of riding countless different course simulations stimulates the little-kid video game geek in me, and I think this will work well for my training. I've noticed that it is hard for me to commit more than an hour on the bike at a time due to kid responsibilities, but I think the Computrainer will help me fix that issue. I hope...

And, of course, with the Computrainer I can "train with power..." Because it seems everyone is preaching that if you aren't training with power, you aren't really getting the most from your training. Well, I'm stepping up to the big leagues my friends.

The second techno pimp item I've ordered is the Garmin Forerunner 301 heart rate monitor. Now I'll know whether I'm supposed to run faster or slower or just quit for the day (heheh)...

It will be interesting to compare my old fashioned how-I-feel training to power and heart-rate training. I'm certain that the new toys will add a bit more fun to the sessions, at least for a few weeks until the novelty fades.

The final pimp-my-TriJack item is the Finis SwimMP3. Most all of the reviews I've read for this are good to outstanding, and I'll try anything to keep me in the water longer!

Well, old-fashioned TriJack is being replaced by techno-training TriJack. But know what? I'm still going to open the door for you, and I still like you more real than plastic.... Some things never will change.

Thanks for joining me for My Daily Spin.

Crashed, Like a Barge

Wednesday: Swim 250y WU, 5 x 100 on 2:15, 250y kicks, 10 x 50 holding
:40-:42s
Run: 5m easy (38:30)
Thursday: Swim 20 x50 drills, 250 kick

My swim yardage has increased quite a bit this week, and I felt it this morning. My shoulders and legs were sore and tight, and I felt like a barge. Didn't help that I was training on 2 hours sleep over the last 36 hours. Tomorrow will be better though, especially since I get to sleep tonight!

I think my web-host has crashed. I haven't had access to my pages for the last 24 hours. Frustrating...

My eyelids are heavy, the kids are asleep. It's time for me to follow their lead and re-energize!

Tomorrow I'll post some news about TriJack entering the tech age - stay tuned!
Thanks for joining me for My Daily Spin.

I Told You So, the Prologue

Monday 4.5 m run, 2 m WU then 10 x 200m on 9% with 200 m rest
2000y swim, 4 x 500 with 1-2 min rest
Tuesday Crossfit/Strength/Stretch

I was talking to a group of tri guys at the gym yesterday, guys who have been tri'ing for several years and a couple of whom have completed a few different Ironmans. I told them about Zurich, and Wisconsin, and about my swim struggles. They expressed a sincere doubt that I would be able to swim IM Zurich by the time cutoff, AND that I would be able to survive IM Moo just 2 1/2 months after Zurich...

I smiled, a bursting at the seams new car for my birthday kind of smile...

You see, there is very little that motivates me more than someone who knows what it takes to accomplish something doubting that I too can accomplish it. If a couch potato with a beer belly the size of Montana doubts I can swim 2.4 miles, who cares... But if a 3 time IM doubts me, game on.

My high school guidance counsellor pleaded for me not to drop out... What will happen if this doesn't work? Yea, you're smart, but you can't do anything without a diploma... Well, Ms C., how ya like me now??? Doubters...

You can't take 4 kids 5 and under for a week-long road trip covering 2500 miles... Ha!! Ask my 2 oldest kids what the most fun thing they ever have done and you know what they say?? "Driving around the world with Daddy," that's what! Doubters...

It probably is pathological and child-like, but I get immense pleasure from saying "I told you so..." Not that I usually actually say that, but you better believe I think it.

So, as if I needed any extra motivation, from this point on IM Zurich is about I told you so... Because I can, because I will, and because they think I can't...

Game on!

Slap Training My Latest Read

I think it's time to start posting my training stats to make myself accountable, so:
Sunday - 1750 y swim:500wu, 5x200,10x25, 6m run (50min)

I'm feeling stronger each day with the swim, and I'm ready to start pushing the volume up. It was pointed out to me recently that my IM is only 4 months away, and that I need to be swimming 5000 yards or so straight (holy sh*t!) prior to the race. So it's time to get grooving!

Moving on...

I'm foolhardy. I admit it. Guilty as charged. Find me a judge and a jury, let me cop a plea, and give me the punishment I deserve. Or maybe I'm just a fool.

You see, sometimes I don't think before I act. OK, I'm supposed to be honest here, so let me restate the last sentence. You see, usually I don't think before I act. I'd rather leap then look, follow my passion then clean up my messes. It frequently is not the most logical thing to do, but it usually is my modus operandi.

And yea, sometimes it gets me in a lot of trouble and gets some people hurt.

Now I'm not talking about physical harm to anyone except occasionally me (the leap occasionally is followed by a resounding thud), and I'm not talking about my professional me in this post. My professional me and my non-professional me are 2 way different persons that I tend to keep separated for the safety of everyone involved. My professional me is definitely a thinker by necessity.

Complicating the problem is that I'm not savvy enough to always realize the meanings of what someone says, nor even the meanings and ramifications of what I say. You know how some people can think with such clarity that it seems like everything they say is perfect? Well, that's not me.

So sometimes I write and say things, things which sometimes might appear in this forum in the context of posts or comments, which are poorly conceived or have meanings or interpretations that I don't recognize. It's a problem for me, and it's a recurring problem for me no matter the context in which I am writing or speaking.

I speak before I think thoroughly about what I am saying.

I was reminded of this problem by a particularly stunning slap in the face via phone from a friend who was hurt by something I said. It was an ill-conceived comment and it didn't represent my thoughts in a way consistent with my actions and feelings. The details of the comment are absolutely unimportant to anyone but me and said friend, but the slap definitely reminded me of this problem.

So, add this to my list of ways that I ef things up. Heh, funny how that list seems to get longer the older I get. Isn't it supposed to be the opposite? Maybe I just know myself deeper and recognize my faults easier (especially when recognition is forced by things like a slap in the face, even if it is a phone slap)... Yea, I like that answer...

I just finished reading Life and Times of Michael K by J.M. Coetzee. It's a shortish novel set in 197o's civil war South Africa. The story chronicles Michael K, a slightly disfigured fatherless guy institutionalized as a child with other physically or mentally challenged kids. When he reaches manhood, he wanders the countryside, through warzones and abandoned farms, while he tries to avoid contact with essentially all of society. He is malnourished but only wants to eat what he grows for himself. He repeatedly is captured and interred in labor camps, but always escapes to wander back into the nowhere.

The book is interesting on several levels. It is yet another example of how you only are truly free when you have and want nothing. Michael is offered shelter, and food, but he shuns almost all assistance ("Why are you so interested in helping me?" he asks) so that he can live as he chooses. Michael is not dumb, but he is by no means sophisticated. In the end, he wanders back to the town where his mother first tried to raise him to drink his water from the earth one teaspoon at a time.

Not a life-changing read, but an entertaining one definitely.

Thanks for joining me on My Daily Spin.

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...