Getting Closer

Boston is just 33 days away. Things have been going well, including the training. I don't have a single theme to share, rather several smaller happenings and thoughts:

- A couple of weeks ago I went out for a morning run around 5:35 and was faced with a beautiful sky. The horizon was just starting to light up with an intense pink/red/orange color. After a winter of training in the dark, it was very uplifting. It was a sign that we're almost through winter, the days are getting longer, I won't have to train in the dark much longer, and that this "marathon thing" indeed is getting closer. It also got me thinking about horizons and what they represent. By definition, horizons are always far in the distance and never get closer. I think it's important to balance "horizon thinking" with living in the moment. It's important to have long range goals and plans, to think about long term implications. However horizons can also be lonely and always leave you wanting. One of the greatest feelings is when a thought starts on the horizon, steadily moves closer, then becomes reality.

- We had a great February vacation at Sugarloaf. I used it as a time to get some good exercise, but also recover from the poundings. Last year I went for a couple of early morning snowshoes up the mountain. This year, I wanted to get to the summit. My first try ended at the top of the King Pine chair. At that point, I needed to turn to the west, straight into a stiff and very cold headwind. I wasn't prepared for that, so opted to head back down. Two days later, I headed out the door at 4:45 in the hopes of making it to the summit for sunrise. It wasn't too cold, the skies were clear, and there was very little wind. I decided on a more direct route, also one that was potentially more protected from the wind, and made my way up Narrow Guage. As I climbed, it seemed as if I was watching the entire region wake up. I made it to the top just after sunrise, and saw this:

- On Friday night that week, we received 10 inches of powder, a rarity for this winter. High winds were forecasted for the next morning. When this happened several times last year, lifts were delayed and then only a few opened. It was incredibly frustrating to be unable to take advantage of the new snow. So this year I strapped my skis on my backpack, threw in by boots and helmet, and snowshoed nearly to the top. It was very slow going because while the pack was heavy, I didn't want to sweat and get my clothes soaked through. When I got to the top the winds were howling- probably gusting over 50. I changed into my ski boots in the lee of the t-bar hut and headed down Sluice. It felt like I was floating the entire way down. It felt great to make the freshest of tracks:

- The running has been going well. Four weeks ago I did 18 miles, splitting 73:30 and 71:15. I was able to fight through a physical and mental low point around miles 12-15, and then felt great at the end. Last week, I did another 18, this time on a different route, and one that might be just a bit harder. I split 71:53 and 68:55, a huge improvement over the first one. In hindsight, I may have pushed too hard, but it was a big confidence booster. I hit that same low point at mile 12, and got through it again. I'm sure there will be a couple of low points in Boston. I know I can get through them and have something left on the other side. One highlight on that second run- as I entered the path going around Back Bay, the moon was enormous and just setting. There were clouds all around, so the sky had this medieval feel to it. Also, I found that wearing compression socks for the morning makes a big difference with recovery. I don't have time to take an ice bath or lie with my legs elevated for a few hours, so the socks are one of the few tools to help recovery. So far I've been able to avoid the fashion comments at work.....

- With five weeks to go, it's all about recovery and resting. I'll do 12 tomorrow morning, but at a slower pace than the 18. Next week my long run will be 9. The high-end interval workouts have evolved to much more race-specific pacing. This is the critical time of the campaign. I've seen magical results come from thorough tapers. I'll also spend time getting everything in order for the race- logistics, clothes, nutrition, etc. With a couple of weeks to go, nothing will be left to chance. That will put my mind at ease and enhance the resting process.

- I was heartbroken to read about a friend in California this week. I got to know Marit electronically in late June 2010. She landed in the hospital with DVTs, or blood clots in the legs, about a day after I landed in the ER with PEs, or blood clots in the lungs. Marit is a terrific athlete, having competed in Kona the prior October. While I had a tough couple of months, her road has had many more bumps along the way. Through it all, she worked hard at keeping up her positive attitude. This week, however, new clots developed. That means she'll be on coumadin for the rest of her life, have regular blood checks, and carefully watch what she eats every.single.day. That's because vitamin K promotes clotting, just what the coumadin is fighting. So she needs to have a consistent amount of spinach, other green leafy vegetables, cranberries and other foods every day. It's all about striking a balance between K and the drug. Coumadin also affects your lifestyle. A bleed of any sort may not stop. That means you have to avoid situations where you might get hit or cut. Back in 2010, I feared exactly what Marit is going through. I suppose it's always possible that I clot again and end up in the same boat, for we never found out why it happened in the first place. So I don't know what to avoid. I do know that I'm fortunate to be able to live the life I want. My thoughts are with Marit and her family. I know it's a tough time, and also that she will keep moving forward with an inspiring and positive attitude.

Till next time.....

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You know the rules....keep yourself safe, put a little joy into your life and those around you who you think may merit it, and never ever- that's never ever- pass up an opportunity to kiss someone you love.

The Sound of Silence

I headed out for a 16 mile run at about 5:20 this morning. It was "crisp"....about 15 degrees crisp. But the roads were clear, there was no wind, and the schedule said today was a long run of 16 miles. I wore a long sleeve shirt, covered by a t-shirt. Over that I put on my hydration pack, sort of like a Camelback, but made for running and much more comfortable. Over that was a thin windbreaker, then finally my reflective vest. My thinking was that I should keep the hose/straw out of the cold air so it wouldn't freeze. As is turned out, it did freeze about 5 miles out. Not good. Fortunately, it thawed after putting it against my skin.

The first two miles were slow and ended at the top of a long uphill. From that point to the end, I averaged 7:54 and felt pretty good the whole way, with the last few miles more like 7:40s. That tells me the training is going fine.

I brought my iPod, but never used it. Sometimes I can simply get in a mental zone where I don't need the stimulation of the iPod to get me through. Today was one of those days. With the quiet, I was able to hear my feet strike the pavement. It sounds like a small thing, but trying to keep quiet foot strikes led me to shorter strides with less heel striking which leads to a more comfortable, less damaging and faster run. I remembered that when I race, always without music, the sound of my running is a new sensation. One rule in training is to mimic racing conditions as much as possible (or advisable) in training. I hope I can get through more runs without the iPod. I think it could make me a better runner.

At the end of the run I saw Christine driving Nick to school. They stopped a gawked at me. While I hadn't realized it, my face and hair were all frosty white and I had a huge icicle handing from my left ear. Quite a sight.

Checking In With Coach

Today I had a need to get down to Boston for work, so I took an early detour to visit Coach Megerle. As usual, he was busy juggling responsibilities as the director of the Tufts Marathon Challenge and every inch of space on his walls was filled with pictures of former athletes. His passion for his athletes and their performances is contagious. I left his office energized as we're inside of three months before the race. I clarified a few questions and had plenty of other issues reinforced. Here are a few tid bits:

- It takes 30-60 days for training efforts to fully take hold. He shared a study that isolated certain key muscle fibers. The athletes in the study did ZERO exercise for three months. At the end of the time, those fibers were stronger.

- Around 1996, he had a swimmer (from Sanford, ME) who caught pneumonia in early January. For the next seven weeks, he swam every third day and hardly did any hard swimming. At New Englands in the first week of March, he won and set school records in five events. This is one of his classic stories that demonstrate how important rest and recovery are.

- My longest run should be no longer than 18 miles, and no closer than 5 weeks before April 16.

- Descending interval repeats shouldn't end at all-out efforts. On a good day, I can get hard 400m intervals down to about 1:22. There's no need to go any faster than 1:30.

- Coach doesn't like gels/shot blocks, etc. He believes in peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which he will serve at mile 9 on race day. Since PB&Js are my favorite food, I'll practice eating them in practice so I can handle it on race day. Having said that, I'll still bring the Hammer Gel along for the rest of the run.

- He said one of the biggest detractors from performance is when runners have specific time goals. Guilty as charged. I'd like to match my time in 2003- 3:15. Given that was 9 years ago, he said that might prove to be difficult. He told me to go out in early February and do 6-9 miles at that race pace (7:25) and see how I feel. If I'm able to do it and feel fresh at the end, it might be fine.

I love visiting Coach. He's dedicated his life to helping athletes reach their potential with conviction, research, persistance and passion. Every one of his athletes has their own story and he works to make each one of those stories a success. Many of his ideas aren't mainstream, but when you hear them enough over the years and see the incredible results, it's convincing.

In Coach We Trust!

Three Months to Boston

Assuming things fall into place the way I plan, I will toe the line at the Boston Marathon three months from today. I have a vague idea what to expect, but I'm sure that it will be "more" than anything I can envision. More people, more crowds, more excitement....more pain?....scratch that....more satisfaction at the finish line.

Boston has been on my bucket list for a very long time. It's the biggest mass participation athletic event in New England, and one of the biggest in the world each year. I qualified with a 3:15 back in 2003, however we are never home for Patriot's Day. But last fall when our calendar started taking shape, I saw that the week was open. I was also getting back into long trail runs after a summer of sprint triathlons, so I thought....maybe....

My Tufts Swimming Coach, Don Megerle, now runs the Tufts Marathon Challenge. For about seven years he has helped hundreds of students, alumni and friends of the school train for and complete the race. John Hancock, the primary race sponsor, gives 100 official numbers to many non-profits for fundraising. For Tufts, the beneficiary is the Tufts Friedman School of Nutrition. They do great work on nutrition. Last fall I did a long run with the team and chatted with a current grad student at the Friedman School. She had just finished working with an elementary school in Cambridge to build a new cafeteria and redesign what food was offered and how it was offered. In other words, she was studying how the presentation of food can affect "sales". I think most would agree that 1) today's kids serve as the foundation for our future, 2) good nutrition is vital to their development, and 3) most school cafeterias do a lousy job. So I felt like raising funds for this type of work was something I could really get behind.

Coach organizes two workouts per week for the group- a long run and intervals. Given that I'm busy in Maine, I've only done one workout with the group. Coach emails the interval workouts each week, so I can do them on my own. Many runners would be shocked by the short distances we do. Generally, the sets have been 200s and 400s, all descending, and a total of about 8-12 in each workout. Coach has never been one to prescribe traditional workouts. He believes in quality, teaching your body to go fast(er), and recovery.

My long runs were proceeding very well. After building up to 10 miles, I did three weeks of 12, then 3 of 14, 3 of 16 and 2 of 18. Most of them were on trails, first at Bradbury Mountain, then in late November I shifted to the trails around Sugarloaf. Trail running is not speedy, but it does great things for the mind and all of the stabilizing muscles. I also find it shortens my stride. When I get on the road, the shorter stride reduces the chances of injury.

My two 18 mile runs were great, each in their own right. For the first one, which was the Monday after Christmas, both the trails and roads were in bad shape. That meant I needed to risk possible insanity...the treadmill. I showed up at the Anti Gravity Complex, the gym owned by the town of Carabassett Valley and CV Academy at 6. Above and open to the gym floor below is the "Beach". There is very little visual stimulation- like none. No TVs, and at that hour, there were no kids on the trampolines or in the skatepark to watch. Just me and an empty gym floor below. Ugh. I decided to go as long as possible before using my iPod which can get tiring after a couple of hours. That lasted about 20 minutes. Then I moved on to a couple of podcasts (IM Talk and Endurance Planet). That got me to about 2 hours. For the final 45 minutes, it was music. As for the workout, I slowly built up from a speed of 6.5 to 7.2 and just stayed there. It might sound crazy to avoid speed and pitch changes, but I thought that paying attention to intervals would remind me of how much further I had to go. I chose to get into a mental groove and try to survive. It felt really good to survive this insanely long treadmill session.

The other 18 mile run was from Sugarloaf to Eustis and back, all on Rt 27. There were some slick spots along the way due to freezing rain the day before, so I had to dial it back a bit, especially on the downhills. It turned into a beautiful day- it was in the high 30s by the end of the run. I was pleased with my pace- I was under 8s on most of the flats or downhills, and averaged 8:15 for the whole thing.

Now I've had two weeks of recovery, somewhat caused by a slightly pulled achilles/calf, and I feel great about the next two months. After that it's all down hill to Hopkington.

By the way, if you're interested in contributing to the effort, click here.

Finally...The Perfect Race...The Megerle Race

The perfect race. Is it really possible? If it is, I think I just nailed it. It's easy to doubt. A race that goes for over two hours, involves three sports, each of which is multi-faceted, plus two transitions, is so involved that it's easy to think perfection is unattainable. But today may have been perfect.


Let's back up for a minute. My goal race all year was Sprint Nationals. My training was geared around it, I planned what I thought was a good taper.....and I had a "good" race. The environment was great as we were in the midst of likely the most competitive Olympic and sprint fields of the year anywhere in the country. I was rested, fast and focused. Yet the troubles started early. First, the race was at 12:30. Given that most of my training and all racing starts in the morning, this played games with my sleep and diet. It just felt strange. Next, it was hot- something like 83 degrees by race time.


I was in the second wave which included all men over 40, about 150+. I had a great start and was in third at the first buoy. While I maintained that position to the exit, about half way into the swim I felt like I was working way too hard. The negative chatter started. Sure, it's a sprint and I should go hard, but I was anything but loose. Then on the bike, my perceived exertion and watts from the computer were not in sync. I thought I was working my butt off, but I was being told that I was only putting out 240 watts- my threshold is about 275, and I was hoping to be above that. Again, the negative chatter was there. This carried on for the first 8 miles when I finally felt better and my power came up to where it should be. Too bad there were only 5 miles left. I think another issue was that it's impossible to warm up on the bike, and there's no opportunity to warm up in the water. My lower back down to my hamstrings were tight the whole way. The run started with a long steep climb. Given the run was just a 5K, I felt I needed to get after it early and hard. That damn hill nearly forced me to walk. And again, it wasn't until I had about a mile to go when I started feeling better. The whole time, I knew I wasn't performing as I should. In the end, I ended up 4th in my AG, which is pretty good. After today, though, I know I could win my AG.


Lobsterman, an Olympic distance tri, was today. It was a "oh, what the heck" race- I didn't focus on the distance in training, and certainly didn't work the calendar in its favor. I needed a couple of days to recover from Nationals, had a training build up for about two weeks, then another taper. I capped my training intensity around my threshold, eliminating the really high intensity riding and running. On the two Saturdays between the races, I ran for 90 minutes on the Bradbury trails in preparation for tomorrow's Bradbury Bruiser 12 mile trail race. I love it out on the trails, although I knew it wasn't race specific for the Lobsterman. If I were to summarize the last couple of weeks, I enjoyed the training, didn't obsess about the race, and gave my body additional rest.


Now I need to take another detour, this time to discuss my college swim coach, Don Megerle. When it comes to racing, he preached, and still preaches, rest, staying loose, negative splits, and positive thoughts. I recently talked with him about a possible race next year, and he sent me a bunch of stuff he has written. It served as a great reminder.


I showed up to the race today with no expectations and a desire to enjoy it. Many of the usual suspects were absent, and only 25% of the field was from Maine. So all I could do was take care of my own race. Remembering the lack of warm up at nationals, I ran around a bit, rode 4 miles, and swam about 800 yards. When the race started, I had a clean start, without so much as someone tapping my toes. That let me quiet down into a sustainable pace and drop my kick down to the point where it was just for a bit of balance. At the first buoy I saw one other guy in my wave but didn't change my pace. It seemed like the two waves in front of me swam to the next buoy in a big arc, so I was able to move through them- again, without coming even close to contact. At the final buoy, I did run over someone (sorry!!), so I can't say I made it the whole way without an issue, but I came close. The entire swim, I felt like it was fairly easy and I could go at that pace forever. And there was lots of positive chatter.


I was determined to start the bike at a pace that allowed me to ease into it, trying to avoid a tight back and low power. On the way up the early hills out of the park, I saw I was pushing 300w+ without too much effort. Hmmm... I continued on, kept the cadence on the high end, feeling loose and enjoying the beautiful day. I thought I was holding back, but saw that I was pushing 260-280w, and on the hills, closer to 320w. The chatter started a positive feedback loop. Not once in the 25 mile ride did I feel like I was turning myself inside out. It felt controlled, loose and fast. Perhaps another factor was that I passed my last person around mile 8. From that point on, I didn't see another bike other than those heading out in the opposite direction. And not a single person passed me then entire ride.


Another improvement was my nutrition. I changed my intake to something I've used on the trails- water, Heed, and two Hammer gels mixed in one water bottle. That was just the right amount of fluid to take in (no upset stomach on the run), and provided plenty of calories.


Towards the end of the bike, I began to plan the run. I decided to ease into the first two miles. The first long hill came soon after the start of the run, and I just stayed under control. Mile 1, 6:50. Whoa, that was easy! Let's stick with this! Mile 2, 6:50. That got me out onto South Freeport Rd, a long straightaway. The whole way I reminded myself to keep my hands and jaw loose and to enjoy it. I took a few sips of water at every stop, and a gel at the turnaround. Again, the nutrition was spot on. I was only passed once, around mile 3. Due to the lack of competitors, I figured I was well into the earlier waves (that had 3 and 6 minutes head starts), but was shocked when a spectator told me I was in 13th. Then someone else told me the same thing. More positive reinforcement. My plan was to push things once I got to mile 4, but I was content with the way things were going. I was still holding 6:50s or better. I will admit there were times I wondered, "This is too easy. Am I leaving something on the table?" Once I got to the top of the hill by mile 5, I put in a little extra and held that to the finish. I ended up 11th overall, 2nd in my AG. My splits were something like 23, 1:06 and 42:30. A final time of 2:14 is a fairly good time for an Oly, and this race typically has slower times. I'll take it.


I have never, ever, had a race like that. I have never gone so fast with so little effort. Before the race, someone reminded me that I once wrote about "turning myself inside out. I guess that's why you win and I don't," he said. I was wrong. Turning myself inside out inhibits fluid movement. It doesn't allow the race to come to me. It forces things. It makes me tight. And it prohibits reaching my potential.

This is the way I need to race. Positive thoughts, relaxed, let the race come to me, stay loose.


Thanks, Coach!

Infinite Loop

Yesterday marked one year since I landed in the ER with bilateral idiopathic pulmonary emboli. That means a bunch of life threatening blood clots in both pulmonary arteries plus plenty of other clots in the lungs. You see, if blood can't get through the lungs, it can't pick up oxygen, and can't deliver said oxygen to your vital organs...like you brain and heart. Not good.

This past year has been full of reflections, but especially the last couple of weeks. I competed in the Pirate Tri a couple of weeks ago, which last year I did the day AFTER the PEs first struck. Not only did this race mark my return to the tri scene and the first one-hour-plus race effort, but it was the beginning of my "one year reflection" period. Leading up to the race, I seemed to be feeling all sorts of physical things that made me wonder what was going on. It was tough mentally to keep wondering if things were happening all over again, which would certainly mean a return to coumadin and the permanent end of bike riding and perhaps skiing. Even during the run section of the race, I developed a normal side stitch and thought it was happening again. I had and have no other symptoms, and can intellectually tell from my activities that I'm fine. But emotionally, it was hard.

As for the race, I came away from it feeling pretty good. I was 3rd overall in the swim, and much faster than last year. The bike was slow (although about the same as last year), but that's understandable considering I did no meaningful biking from June to April. And the run was 30 seconds faster than last year. In total, I was about 1:30 faster, won my AG, and was 8th overall. I'll take it. More importantly, it was great to see everyone again, knowing I was there to compete with them, not just watch and enjoy the environment. The comments and smiles I received were great. More on that later.

In May, I did the Cape TT. I wanted a max effort before the Pirate Tri to see how I would respond after about six weeks of more focused bike training. My good friend and great biker Bob- with a full year of Ironman bike training behind him- started 60 seconds behind me. I wondered how long it would take to make up the gap, hoping I could last at least a few miles. For those who know the course, which is the same as the old CELT tri course, I made it all of the way to the Spurwink church and the hill up to the dump before he flew by. He continued on to build a gap of an additional 30 seconds.

I was pleased with the race. But more importantly, what will stay with me is Bob's comment as he went past, "You still got it, Tenney." It was the perfect encouragement at the perfect time. It was honest and meaningful. And it is one of the many examples of how so many people have helped me get through this last year. Emails, notes, hugs, calls, visits, fruit baskets, good natured ribbing....the help came in many forms. I take two risks by listing certain individuals- first, I know I'll forget someone, and second, this sure isn't a very personable thank you. So here goes- Bob T, Scott M, Tom M, Julie N, Paul D, Cathy B, Jay E, Ed T, Angela B, Mary H-W, John S, Dave S, Mike L, John S, Andy S, John C, Rob S, Jeff S, Sue N, Coach Megerle, Marit C-L, the Winchester crew (Chip, Lara, Ned, Jill, Mike, Laura, Joe, Jan), and many others- thank you. Most importantly, thanks to my immediate and extended family.

As for my future racing plans...the goal race is the Sprint National Championships in Burlington VT on August 20. Based on past results, I should be top 5 in my AG, and would love to crack the top 3. It's likely I won't have another race before then. After, I'll likely do Lobsterman.

Meanwhile, I'm enjoying the training, especially the running. Other than a few short transition runs, it's all been on either the trails or the track, and never with a Garmin (Mary- remember the discussion around data?). There is a trail system a mile from the house, and another larger one a short drive away. Single track trail running is perhaps my favorite training of all time. There's a chance that if I had all other activities taken away from me and trail running was the only thing left, I'd be perfectly happy. Every single step is different than the last. On the one hand, I focus on every foot plant which keeps my mind occupied for long stretches, and on the other, I can get completely mentally lost when I'm out there. Every single run in the woods leaves me rejuvenated. Physically, it's also much better than pounding on the roads. I've labeled road running as "2-D," and trail running as "3-D." The constant ups and downs, uneven terrain, puddles, mud, trees, roots, rocks, and sharp turns of the trails strengthen my legs in ways that you can't get on the roads. As a result, I've been completely free from injury. Two weeks ago I went to Presque Isle and ran for two hours at the Nordic Heritage Center. That's without going longer than 1:15 since November, normally an unwise increase.

With a bit of track work, this doesn't seem to be affecting my speed. For the first time this season, I wore a watch to the track to see where I stood. I was able to descend quarters down to where I've been before, and then put together a solid, even-split, mile. Yesterday I did a transition run after a 2 hour bike and have never felt so good. I didn't blast out of the driveway, forcing the pace, but let the speed come to me. I have no idea how fast I was going, but it felt fast and effortless. I wish I could bottle up that feeling for a race.

Today I left the house for a one to two hour run in the woods. For those of you who follow specific training prescriptions, this is blasphemy. "One to two hours? There's a huge difference there. How does it fit into the rest of the week? What's the pace? Will the Garmin work in the woods?" Etc, etc, etc. I didn't care. I was just going out for a good run and I'd see what unfolded. At one point, I found a path that I soon discovered led to a circular path I'd been on before. I didn't know they were connected. So I went around, and around, eventually realizing I was stuck in this loop. I was looking for the trail to go back to where I came from, but missed it. I didn't care one bit. I was on top of the world, doing my favorite training, and I was alive.

D-Day

Friday, December 3, 2010. That's the day that will determine a lot. On that day, I'll know which fork in the road I take. I recently talked with someone about how I will feel with either outcome, and they advised me not to think about it. It's impossible to anticipate my emotions, so I shouldn't waste mental energy toiling about the whole thing. But I can't help it. So here goes.


I'll start with the medical part of that day. In just two weeks, I'll travel to Boston to see my hematologist. She is one of 16 doctors in the US, UK and Canada who are part of a study looking at idiopathic clotting disorders- in other words, there's no good reason why the clotting occurred. As a population, there's a 10% chance of recurrence each year, and something like 40% over the subsequent five years. That's obviously way over acceptable. Honestly, given the choice of taking a drug the rest of my life or taking a substantial risk of another life-threatening clot in the lungs, it's a pretty easy choice.


Clotting happens in what is called a "cascade," or a series of events. One of the final steps has a byproduct called D-dimer. They can test for the presence of D-dimer. If negative, you're in the clear. If positive, there's a good chance (though less certain than a negative test) you are clotting. The study attempts to stratify patients into different risk levels using this test. In other words, they take this population of screwed up people, of which I am one, and use the test to identify those that can reasonably go off of blood thinners, and those who need to stay on medication.


So in a few weeks, I'll take this blood test and see the results on the spot. One of two things will happen. I obviously hope the test is negative. If so, I'll stop taking the medication right then and go back to Boston for another test in one month. That's because the medical community isn't sure if the medication suppresses D-dimer. If that second test is still negative, I'm good to go. I'll just go back to Boston every six months to check in. On the other hand, if either of the two test are positive, I'll be on medication for at least two years, if not the rest of my life.


So there you have it. Option A means I resume life and training as I choose. Option B means I keep taking medication, which prevents me from bike riding and therefore triathlons. Sounds pretty straightforward and obvious as to how I might react. But it isn't.

I really want Option A. It will allow me to bike, race, ski without concern, and otherwise put me in situations that are risky for someone on blood thinners. I've worked damn hard to get good at triathlon, and I think I have a couple more years of getting faster. Not just better in my AG (which is relative to others), but faster in an absolute sense. I have unfinished business in the sport. Someday I'd like to go to the World Championships and wear the USA uniform. Be a NOAD. New Zealand '12 might be a bit too far, especially for a sprint, but maybe it will be held closer to the US in 2013.

However I can make the argument that these athletic endeavors can be replaced if things don't work out. Although I qualified for Boston in 2003, I never did the race. It's on my bucket list. In hindsight, I think the perfect sport for me would have been rowing. I have the size, determination and enough athletic ability. There are masters boats in the Head of the Charles. That is also on my bucket list. And swimming is also an obvious choice, although I don't have a big goal in mind. I've spent enough time looking at the black line. There are other things I'd like to do that could satisfy my competitive desires.

But honestly, it isn't just about sports. In fact, while they are a big deal, they aren't biggest deal. It's all of the other life issues that come along with blood thinners that I don't want to live with. Currently, I have to be careful with how much Vitamin K I eat. That means monitoring my intake of green vegetables. I love a huge green salad. I can't have much alcohol. I have never been much of a drinker, but I do enjoy it now and then. I haven't had more than two drinks in one day in over six months. I have to wear a medic-alert bracelet. Every day, my watch alarm goes off at 6:00, reminding me to take my medicine. I have to get my blood drawn every month, if not more often. So there are all sorts of issues that come with the drug, many of which are in my face every single day.

To me, it's about being limited. I've always been a bit stubborn- I don't like to be told what I can and can't do. I want to be the one to decide. I don't like limitations. I want to do what I want to do. I don't like the concept of being "tied down" for somewhere between the next two years and the rest of my life. That's a long time.

So as I said earlier, it sounds pretty obvious. But let's consider the downside of Option A (and therefore the upside of Option B). Within days of going off of blood thinners, it's out of my system. My safety blanket is gone. I wonder if I'll forever be looking over my shoulder waiting for Mr. Clot to strike. And if he strikes, will it happen in the same way, or could it be more sudden? Is it possible that the clot makes it through my PFO (that tiny hole in my heart), travels to my brain and causes a stroke? I'm assured it's a very small risk, but that thought will be there. I'll be forever hypersensitive to chest pains. Given the choice of Option B or a life-threatening or altering clot, I'll go for Option B in a heartbeat. The docs don't have all of the answers. Hence the study. Like any study, their theory might work for some but not others. So there's a chance it doesn't work for me.

That's it. I go to Boston two weeks from today for a test I can't prepare for. I don't know how I will react to the result, whatever that is. We have all had deadlines and exams before that can have an impact on our futures. However I've always been able to do something to increase the chances of success. This test is not only out of my control, but is more serious.

Regardless of the result, I know this entire episode has taught me lessons I otherwise never would have learned. I appreciate life and those around me much more than before. I value what I have and my surroundings much more. And I also know I have friends and family that care a great deal for me and wish me the best. It's heartwarming. Those things won't change.


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You know the rules....keep yourself safe, put a little joy into your life and those around you who you think may merit it, and never ever- that's never ever- pass up an opportunity to kiss someone you love.