tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66887538746996704412023-11-16T08:48:00.978-05:00TRIals and TRIbulationsMaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.comBlogger101125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-24694856790352365912013-09-16T18:22:00.000-04:002013-09-16T18:22:06.581-04:00Race Report: 2013 ITU Sprint Triathlon World Championships- Keep Calm, Carry On<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">There were plenty of emotions going into this race. It was the biggest race of my career, physically on the Olympic stage, plenty of people were watching from London and at home, I had been through a serious health scare, and I had trained hard for this one day. It was also the last one. Just seeing the finish chute or thinking about the situation made me choke up.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: -webkit-auto;">I was also keenly aware I had a job to do. I needed to execute a smart race, one that was based on my training, and one that was flexible. No two races are the same. Things happen with the competition, conditions, equipment, or other outside forces that necessitate decisions. Even though I tried to address everything ahead of time, I knew something would come up. In London there are T-shirts that say, "Keep Calm, Carry On." That would prove to be very appropriate.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Race day arrived with overcast skies and a threat of light rain. My morning schedule went off without a hitch, including a 15 minute swim and 15 minute bike at a healthclub. I had a peaceful walk through Hyde Park and arrived at transition at 7:00 to set up and check on my bike. For better (my vote) or worse, organizers don't allow anything other than what is essential for the race. No towels, bags, nothing.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: -webkit-auto;">My main concern for the race, as it always is, is a flat on the bike. I have never flatted in a race, and frankly, am not the swiftest with changing a tube. However there was no CO2 available anywhere, so there was no sense in bringing any other tube changing equipment. When I asked others, they just said they would drop out. Given the short race, stopping to fix a flat would simply take too much time. I felt like screaming, "That is NOT an option for me!" On top of that, the roads are anything but smooth. It was described as riding on rice cakes.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: -webkit-auto;">Then another, more important issue arose. The light rain was making the roads slick, and I talked with several people who had already see crashes on the very technical course. That could ruin a day. Main goal for the bike...stay upright. (The next day I heard there were 40 crashes in our race that included 2,150+ athletes.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: -webkit-auto;">My overall goals for the race were to execute well and have fun. Having fun in a race helps you relax which helps the body flow more smoothly, which is faster.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: -webkit-auto;">After experiencing Wednesday's swim start in the Aquathlon in which I started far left and 1) got pummelled, and 2) went out way too hard, I decided to start as far right as possible. This would allow me to get clear if I needed to, and allow me to set my own pace. As an aside, it's funny how people start triathlons at full speed, yet swimmers in a 500 don't. This swim was 750m, so I treated as such. Perhaps triathletes could learn something from us swimmers. Starting positions were determined simply by the order in which we walked out onto the pontoon. So I let all of the other Type As go first and only had one person to my right. If it was a longer swim from that position, the difference was minimal.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large; text-align: -webkit-auto;">At the horn I put in about 25m hard, saw I was clear of at least the one guy to my right, then settled into a sustainable pace. As we approached the first turn buoy and the pack came together, I was pleased to see I was in 4th (the wave had 60, as did the wave 5 minutes earlier, also our age group). For a minute or two I felt a minor draft, then the gap to the first three stretched out a bit too much. At about the two-thirds point, the gap had grown just enough for...What??!!.. Two massive white swans swam right across my path. I wonder what they thought of all the commotion. Too funny.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK45KBKkYISvufpWSao266HaGhU4OKhSoe-0V-0mJ1YAkobZ5Z00pyRmfrsJeBanBJyVkWF2OjHT9jUmeMK18QqA_rWB4Hgd8Fid_UizUzAbnIiMK9XeuESz10ZIIlZVE36lzY0WzMFqEV/s1600/_MG_8620.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK45KBKkYISvufpWSao266HaGhU4OKhSoe-0V-0mJ1YAkobZ5Z00pyRmfrsJeBanBJyVkWF2OjHT9jUmeMK18QqA_rWB4Hgd8Fid_UizUzAbnIiMK9XeuESz10ZIIlZVE36lzY0WzMFqEV/s400/_MG_8620.jpg" width="266" /></span></a><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br />I finished the swim without anyone passing me, and incredibly, no one as much as laid a finger on me the entire time. I ended up 5/113 in the AG in a time of 10:35 while the fastest swim was 10:04. I call that perfect execution.<br /><br />Both transitions took forever. It was a long run to the area, then we had to wind our way through the massive maze. I put more effort into both T1 and T2 than normal, but my times still were fair at best- 3:35 and 3:15 vs best times of 2:43 and 2:40. I'm accustomed to being near the top in transitions, but this level of competition is completely different.<br /><br />The bike course went out about 1/2 mile, then began three out-and-backs in the shape of a "C." Given the slick roads, I knew the corners and 180 degree turns would be slow, so I was ready for about 25 accelerations- in other words, an interval workout. I can do that. That's what I've done in the pool my whole life.<br /><br />Upon entering the "C," it became obvious that this would be a very crowded course, only making things more difficult. Fortunately, much of the road was wide enough to go three wide. The first section, about 3/4 of a mile long, was a straight shot and a bit uphill. Thinking there would be plenty of slower sections, I decided to blast this one, and comfortably sustained 380 watts.<br /><br />Then came a right hand turn, the start of about 5 turns in the span of 1/2 mile, including a brutal, sloping S-turn. To make matters worse, the road sloped to the right for the left hand curve of the "S." I think this is where most of the crashes happened. Nick told me he saw people sliding 30 feet on the pavement. On top of that, there were multiple raised crosswalks with sharp, cobbled, leading and trailing edges. I was down in my aerobars when I hit the first one. The bars went right down to about a 30 degree angle. I thought my hands would hit my front wheel. Damn! Damn! Damn! Now Keep Calm and Carry On. You moron. I've always been a bit critical of those who have similar mechanical issues because they are preventable, and now I was one of them. My mind went back to the 2001 Alcatraz I did when winner Michele Jones had the same failure. I also remembered specifically getting those bolts as tight as I could the day before. Keep Calm, Carry On. I quickly learned that bringing the bars back up is no easy task. The angle was so severe that I had no leverage. I moved my left hand back to the forearm pad and pulled up with my right. Aside from not moving them, it felt incredibly unstable at a time I was in a crowd and going through turns on wet roads. I thought about stopping to fix the problem, but that seemed too dangerous. There was no "breakdown" lane- bikers were riding right next to the barriers. So I just kept working on them and eventually succeeded. I was afraid they would be completely loose for the rest of the ride (I was only 10% done), but as it turned out I was able to make small, regular adjustments just fine.<br /><br />There was another long straightaway before the turnaround, and I blasted that one like the other. Then I crawled through the tight 180 degree turn. From that point on, I blasted the straights and came out of my aeros through the turn section and crosswalks, accelerating when I could. Times five. As I returned down the original straightaway, I realized my Garmin was gone. Gone. No data and about $200 down the drain. My first thought was, "I'm going to have a great run." Then I wondered, "Am I riding if the data isn't recorded?" Late on the second lap I saw my Garmin on the ground. I didn't see any way to get it back, </span><span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">so I kept going. It was gone on the third lap.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The bike is when I heard my family the most. Nick, Leah, Christine, her parents Joan and Roger, plus my friend Chip gave me great support on each out and back. It's great to hear my first name get yelled. The support really makes a difference.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Keep in mind that when I race, like most people, I don't always think too clearly. On the run, I had a couple of people yell my last name. I wondered how they knew me....then remembered it was on the front and back of my uniform.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYbTTTLWdnmTcmnpgyWrXQo1liOUfo2tHXMG_IJCr0vOzzJLDupzu6Yepy_FrFhs4NSdmYkQxgPSLQi7gFEWStwA8Y3EpxZ32MP0fGtBnDVHhYlI2d_wRRfbJaDNkyBG6Ld8CXPabok5g-/s1600/_MG_8673.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYbTTTLWdnmTcmnpgyWrXQo1liOUfo2tHXMG_IJCr0vOzzJLDupzu6Yepy_FrFhs4NSdmYkQxgPSLQi7gFEWStwA8Y3EpxZ32MP0fGtBnDVHhYlI2d_wRRfbJaDNkyBG6Ld8CXPabok5g-/s400/_MG_8673.jpg" width="266" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUaqj6cN5L3GqR9zysxYVtRutDddyCNhs0RzlKz3TRQbELvhJ2eci8tzcb1K9mmJCCE-5wfyZpMvVWQFSvp9csRat614ndTR61vT1Uw0iOu356CDR0H_7qC-vp13qur-_rGylC89Up-XF_/s1600/20x30-SPRL3085.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUaqj6cN5L3GqR9zysxYVtRutDddyCNhs0RzlKz3TRQbELvhJ2eci8tzcb1K9mmJCCE-5wfyZpMvVWQFSvp9csRat614ndTR61vT1Uw0iOu356CDR0H_7qC-vp13qur-_rGylC89Up-XF_/s400/20x30-SPRL3085.jpeg" width="266" /></a><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><br />Soon enough I hooked up with another American who was in my age group. He was far more technically proficient in the turns and would gap me by about 50 yards. I was fine with that as I wanted to just stay upright. Then I would pass him back before the next 180. This pattern continued for the rest of the bike. A huge thanks to my Wednesday TT group of Owen, Mike, Tom and Brett. That training allowed me to put in big watts without blowing up.<br /><br />I had a massive sense of relief when I made the turn to return to transition. No flat, and I stayed upright. I knew my time wouldn't be great, but crashing is slow. My split was 37:09, and the fastest in my AG was 34:15 (22.5K total). That's probably only a minute slower than I could ever expect, so given the conditions, I consider that very satisfactory.<br /><br />My strategy for the run was to start strong and controlled with a quick turnover and short stride. Then I would build into the long, slightly uphill run along the far side of the Serpentine.<br /><br />Wednesday's Aquathlon was the first time racing with my Garmin. I thought the pacing information would be useful, and I wanted to know exactly how I did. At many races, the results (the distance and therefore average pace) can be off enough to make a difference, and they don't give you mile splits. <br /><br />Soon after leaving transition, I felt like I was working hard and felt good when I saw a pace of 5:45 on my watch. That's a bit quick. Stay smooth. OK to back off a touch. About half way along the back side, I caught the guy I had been swapping places with on the bike. That's when I really started to race. I went by him and kept going so he wouldn't even think of trying to stay with me. I hit mile 1 in 6:30, a pace I felt was solid and allowed me to pick it up a bit. That was also close to the high point in the race, so I knew gravity would help establish a faster pace.<br /><br />As I finished the first lap and went through transition, I told myself, "ONE MORE LAP. THIS IS IT. EXECUTE. YOU TRAINED FOR THIS. GO."<br /><br />I hit mile 2 in a 6:20, still feeling smooth, quick and controlled. I was passing plenty of other runners but wasn't getting passed. This was going well. Then came the long slight uphill section again. Bear down, keep the legs quick. I hit the bridge. Then the final right turn. Downhill to the finish. Go fast, leave nothing. You're racing invisible guys in an earlier heat.<br /><br />It's funny. I thought I would be filled with emotion at that point. However I remember thinking I was too tired to have any emotion. I hit the blue carpet as I entered the grandstand area and emptied the last ounce of energy I had. I grabbed a small flag without breaking stride and came to the 180 degree turn that leads to the finish. 100 yards to go. That finish was like a massive magnet. It pulled me faster and faster. I heard my family yelling in the stands, but didn't try to look. I needed to FINISH FAST.</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnZTltwR_EU2SO6MjOFNNgHCW9_x1HPuFigCidIHEWI7G3QIhK5ms_YWpMM12mLFfD1x36YXSt4pIFqXa7K94Mye5uPewCPo4QeKsNJ9Z4uhOqQU47rP-Tvd3Br9iSg5EAlsYxOncntVef/s1600/_MG_8719.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnZTltwR_EU2SO6MjOFNNgHCW9_x1HPuFigCidIHEWI7G3QIhK5ms_YWpMM12mLFfD1x36YXSt4pIFqXa7K94Mye5uPewCPo4QeKsNJ9Z4uhOqQU47rP-Tvd3Br9iSg5EAlsYxOncntVef/s400/_MG_8719.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /><br />I finished the run in 18:54 (3.0 mi.) , a best-ever average pace of 6:18. The last mile was 6:07, a great way to go out! The best run was 16:20. Overall, I finished in 1:13:28, 36th out of 113. The winner came in at 1:07:53. Sure, I would have been a bit faster without my aerobar issue, but not by much. I can honestly say that was my best complete race ever. No race is ever perfect, and every one has it's challenges and issues. But this was the best.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; text-align: -webkit-auto;">I sat down after crossing the line and wanted to just sit there for a minute and soak it in. That lasted all of 10 seconds before I was asked to clear the area. Then I moved into the athlete-only area for handshakes, water and some photos. It's a special scene. We all just went to battle with and against each other, have never met, and now we're best of friends. Countries, places and times don't matter. We all just turned ourselves inside out and concluded a very long season of training. Congratulatory handshakes are genuine. To varying degrees, our lives exist in this bubble that is triathlon. It's hard for others to relate to. I'll miss it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large; text-align: -webkit-auto;">I took a minute and soaked it all in, then headed out to see my family. They allowed me to do this, to partially live in this bubble. I never could have done this without their support.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-87096677500214299292013-09-11T16:16:00.000-04:002013-09-11T16:16:17.447-04:00Race Report: Aquathlon World ChampionshipsBefore getting to the race, I'd like to thank the driver of the double decker bus who clearly saw a clueless American not look the correct way before crossing the road. He honked, preventing me from getting squished.<br />
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Going into this race my goal was to go through the motions and experience the whole routine, making Friday less stressful. Mission accomplished.<br />
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I started at a healthclub and swam about 15 minutes in a 20m pool, then did 15 minutes on a stationary bike. It had a big touch screen that showed exercise data including watts, TV, and I even played a game of solitare.<br />
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My wave included men 40-49, totalling roughly 130 people, all lined up evenly. At home, I'm used to being out front and clear of the pack. A World Championships? Not so much. I went hard at the horn, couldn't get clear, and quickly realized I was going way way too hard. I even got kicked in the goggles, something that NEVER happens. So after about 200m of a horrible stroke, an effort that was too hard and getting pummelled, I decided to shut it down. The course was a counterclockwise rectangle, so I figured I would get to the right (after starting fairly far left). The problem was that there were several people in the way. So I slowed down to try to let them go past, which just resulted in about 5 people swimming right over me. It wasn't until the second left hand turn that I got free. From that point until just before the finish, I was able to take it easy.<br />
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Transition was cool (from a triathlete's perspective). It was on a nice blue carpet from the water exit to the end. And the only things people were allowed to have in there were sneakers and race number. No towels or mats.<br />
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I eased into the run and got down a bit below 7:00 pace in good time. My miles were 7:01, 6:45, and 6:5x. The run was identical to Friday, making it a very valuable experience. It's generally flat, but one side of th elong rectangle goes up slightly and the other side down a bit (funny how that works). I grabbed a small flag before the finish. Making the 180 degree turn and hitting the backstretch was incredible. I had every intention of keeping it controlled, but that scene gave me an incredible boost. The Olympic finish line, fans in the stands, and knowing Friday will be the last. It will be that times ten on Friday. Wow.<br />
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They started the Elites before the age groupers were done. I saw Richard Varga crush the field. He typically is in the top 3 out of the water in ITU triathlons, and on a good day can make the top 10 overall.<br />
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I met much of the 650 member team at Trafalgar Square for the team picture and Opening Ceremonies. It was great to see all of the countries. Team GB is huge, Australia has quite a few, and South Africa must have several dozen. Mexico and Canada are also well represented. No one from South America, and few from Asia.<br />
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<br />MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-57878829282267465492013-09-10T13:52:00.000-04:002013-09-10T17:55:13.336-04:00London: Settling InSo that I don't have to fill up my race report with other stuff, I thought I would share a few details along the way. There isn't one big story, just a bunch of smaller ones....<br />
<br />
- While I feel bad for the mother, a crying baby two rows up makes for one hell of a long transatlantic flight.<br />
<br />
- I came here expecting curveballs. Attention to detail makes it easier to adjust along the way. First, the apartment manager wasn't there to meet me, so I ended up at a hotel nearby. It's a pain, but we'll get it figured out tonight and they have been very apologetic. Second, it took far longer than I expected to find the registration. It wasn't just me- I befriended a couple of Aussies who were also lost. You would think they would have signs all over the place. Thinking we were going to be late, our long walk was fairly aggressive. That counts as my warm up run for the day.<br />
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- The water is "cold," about 61 degrees. I got in a warm up in the Serpentine, just on the other side from the course. After about 700 yds I felt good and got out.<br />
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- It's cool to see uniforms from all over the world- Japan, South Africa, UK, Ireland, Australia, Norway, just to name a few.<br />
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- It's even better to see the venue. It's precisely where the Olympic races were held. And we will swim the same course and go down the same finishing chute. Goosebumps!<br />
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- America is known as The Melting Pot, but it has nothing on London. Even away from the race site, it's incredible to see the diversity. It makes you think we live in a very homogenious society, both culturally and ideologically. And that others may not think too highly of us Americans. The 10 minute walk from the apartment to Hyde Park has a heavy islamic influence. Right or wrong, I decided not to wear my USA apparel this afternoon. I'd rather not feel like a target.<br />
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- I successfully got a one month membership, to be used just three days, at a very nice healthclub on the way to the race. They have a 20m pool and tons of bikes. I have found that a good warmup is critical for my race, and there's no way to get in the water or take my bike out on race morning.<br />
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- Tomorrow I compete in the Aquathlon, a 1.5K bike and 5K run. I've never done one before, so why not make the first the World Championship? I'm doing it to get familiar with the course, to replicate race morning in all aspects, and to force the time change. I don't want to feel out of sorts on Friday. One change, however, is that I will run with my Garmin so I don't run too hard. I'll also back off the swim after the first 200 yards.MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-86698773059671445512013-09-08T20:34:00.002-04:002013-09-08T20:34:57.935-04:00Setting the Scene: ITU Age Group Sprint Distance World Championships<span style="font-size: large;">It all gets set into motion tomorrow. I will finally be boarding that plane to London. To say I've been single minded over these last few days (OK, weeks) is a gross understatement. This race is a big deal for me for many reasons, and I want to make sure I attend to every detail possible. I know anything can happen on race day, so I want to control everything else. I'm receiving plenty of grief from my family for the three page single-spaced itinerary that lists details as minute as, "5:20 banana and 2x toast with pb."</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">I've had a really good season so far. In three triathlons (White Mountains 1/2, Norway sprint and Bethel sprint), I won my AG in each. In the last two, I was 3rd overall. Training has also been solid. I don't think I've ever been this strong in all three disciplines at the same time. My swimming is close to mid-winter form, I have put in some great 20 and 30 minute TT efforts, and I'm running faster than race pace in bricks without an excessive effort. My taper has also been good. A couple of weeks ago I felt that my quads were really tired to the core, so I backed off and focused on shorter race pace intervals. I tend to taper longer and more gradually than most, a result of experiencing taper programs at Tufts under the guidance of Don Megerle- a true master of the taper. He always says, "you can't cram training, so what makes you think you can cram resting?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So why is this race such a big deal for me?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1. It's been a long time. I first tried to qualify for the 2009 Worlds.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">2. PEs. I qualified for the 2010 Olympic Distance race in Budapest, but was sidelined by extensive pulmonary emboli that blocked 90% of both pulmonary arteries. The cause was never discovered, and I was eventually cleared to go as hard as I wanted. I wasn't sure if I would ever be able to race again.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3. NOAD. I've half joked that it's all about the uniform that includes USA and my last name on my fanny. There's something about wearing the national uniform that goes to my core. Not until today have I been able to get to the root of that emotion. I'd have to say it started Jim Craig. He was the goalie for the 1980 US Men's Olympic Hockey team in Lake Placid. Their victory over the Russians in the semifinals was part David v. Goliath and part Cold War. After the win, Craig wrapped himself in the American flag and skated around looking for his father. Ever since then, "the colors" get to me. Wearing them represents the top of the sport. It's a good feeling to be near the top.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">4. My family will be with me in London. They have been incredibly supportive over the years as I engaged in this sport that took energy, time and focus away from them. They are thrilled to be going, and I think admire the effort. I don't want to let them down.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">5. Along the same lines, I have countless friends in and outside of the sport here at home that have supported me. So much of the training for triathlon is a solitary, grueling existence. It helps to know that others are going through the same thing. In fact, about six of them will also be competing in London.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">6. This is it. This is the last one. It's time to move on to other things. Things that I love to do but haven't. For example, I love to sail, but only go out a few times each summer. Sailing was my big summer sport growing up, and I even made it to a collegiate national championships. Throw in trail running, hiking, paddle boarding, rowing and other activities yet to be discovered. More important that any other athletic pursuits, I want to allow Christine's priorities to take the lead. She started volunteering for Partners for World Health, and may go on some mission trips. It's time for her schedule takes precedence.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Back to the race. The whole thing is in Hyde Park on closed roads. The swim is in the Serpentine, the same as the Olympic triathlon swim. The bike is a three time out and back, loosely in the shape of a "C." For those of you doing the math, you're right- go 2 miles, go back to the start, and do it again twice more. I hope congestion isn't too much of a problem. The run is twice around the Serpentine. We finish right where they finished the Olympics. Both the bike and run are flat. The first wave goes off at 8:00, and mine at 10:15.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This is a huge race- over 2,100 competitors, 1,200 men and 900 women from 85 countries- and that's just the Sprint. There are 121 in my AG, split into two waves. All 16 Americans in my AG were in Burlington last August. I had the third fastest time on that day, but about 8 were within one minute of me. My goal is top three Americans in the AG. Unfortunately, the other four in the top five are in the first of the two heats. I will therefore not know where I stand against them until after the race is done. That means I need to go hard right through the finish. As for an overall goal within the AG, I'm making a wild guess at 30th. I would have been about 15th out of 75 in Auckland last year, but I'm sure this is going to be far more competitive.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So here goes.</span>MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-5024438209821430232012-04-21T16:27:00.000-04:002012-04-21T16:27:02.891-04:00Race Report: Boston Marathon 2012I survived. I wasn’t fast, and things certainly didn’t go according to plan. But I survived. The 2012 Boston Marathon will go down as one of the hardest and most incredible races I’ve ever done.<br />
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The story of the day was the heat. It ended up just as bad as they forecast, with temperatures reaching nearly 90 with a bright sun. I knew it would be a big deal, and in my head planned on adding 30 minutes to my goal time. One of the Tufts’ team captains advised us to add 45-90 minutes, but I figured being the tough guy I am, 30 minutes would do it. In the end, it was just about 60.<br />
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The day started off on a great note. I was lucky enough to be a VIP- the team had about 20. That meant I went straight to a waiting coach bus- instead of standing in a very long line waiting for a yellow bus with thousands of other runners. When the small group of coach buses pulled out of Boston, we had a police escort on the Mass Pike to Hopkinton, where we made our way to the middle school cafeteria to relax on floor mats as opposed to outside under tents. Very nice.<br />
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During the ride, I had a great time talking with other members of the Tufts Marathon Team, which was made up of undergrads, grad students, faculty, alumni and parents. Every single person had an interesting story to tell, and a bond quickly developed due to our common opponent. It was also comforting to see the other 95 Tufts singlets out on the course. I’m sure everyone got a bit of a lift by seeing teammates at a time when we were all suffering.<br />
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Due to the forecasted heat, I decided to monitor my heartrate on my Garmin. Although I haven’t trained with it in a long time, I knew my max was about 177, so figured I should stay below 155-160 for as long as possible. Just before the start, I turned on the monitor and saw an initial reading of 100- while standing still. Oh crap. It should be around 60. Was the heat going to make that much of a difference? (YES!) It came down to 90, but that was still way too high for barely moving.<br />
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After a slow stop-and-go walk towards the starting line, everyone began to jog just before the line and we crossed 10 minutes after our wave began. I was immediately surprised by the available space. I couldn’t go at the pace I wanted, but there was very little bumping, and navigating wasn’t too hard. I tried hard not to weave around people and felt I should be slow and controlled anyway due to the heat and downhill start. Mile 1 was around 9:30, mile 2 about 8:58. I was running very easily, slowly picking up speed, and already taking in fluids. All good things. One huge problem, however- my heart rate was in the upper 160s. If the monitor was correct, and I had no reason to doubt it, I knew this would be trouble. However, given how easy the effort was, I didn’t want to walk at this point. So I just tried to keep it as easy as possible and continue with my nutrition.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mile 9.</td></tr>
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My original nutrition plan was to drink a Hammer gel (2) and Heed mix from a 10 oz bottle on the odd miles 1-7 and water on the even miles. Since I forgot the 10 oz bottle, I bought a 20 oz bottle at the expo. I worked on just the Hammer mix for the first 4 miles, then combined a short walk at the water stops to take in added water and lower my heart rate. So by the time I reached mile 9 where Coach waited with a big Tufts group, I probably had 75% more fluid than planned. Calories and salt tablets were just about on plan, but as the race wore on, it got to be difficult to remember what I had done and it mentally became harder to keep taking in the same stuff while enduring such difficult conditions.</div>
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From mile 9 onward, I probably had twice the fluid intake as planned, taking from both Gatorade and water at every stop. I also developed a very dry mouth, a sign that dehydration is well established, way too early in the race. I thought I was taking in plenty of fluids, and knew that the body can only absorb so much and taking in too much can also be a problem. So I felt stuck. My solution, which I knew might just mask the symptom, was to suck on ice when I could find it. That helped the dry mouth, and may have also helped me cool down a smidge. I also put ice under my cap and held it in my hands. On top of all this, I felt the all-too-familiar stomach cramp setting in, also way too early. In prior hot triathlons, this cramping reduced me to a painful and slow walk, and at IM Wisconsin, a park bench for 30 minutes. I really didn’t want to go through that again. As a result, I took in even more fluids. Fortunately, that seemed to do the trick and the stomach cramp went away.<br />
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The disconcertingly elevated heart rate and walk at water stops cycle continued on. While running, my pace was around 8:45-9:00. The heat was taking its toll mentally and physically. Around mile 12, I connected with a Tufts grad student and we started chatting. It was a great and needed mental lift that lasted for about four miles. We walked much less than before, which let me think I might be getting better. This section also included the famed Wellesley College stretch. The coeds go nuts for about half a mile, screaming encouragement to everyone.<br />
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It was around mile 15 that my quads started to hurt- a lot. Every step was painful, especially downhill. My feet were also hurting- let’s face it- it just sucked all over. In addition to walking at water stops, I did the same on parts of uphills and mile markers. My running pace had also slowed to about 9-9:20.<br />
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While this drudgery continued to the finish, I’d like to turn the focus to the more positive parts of the race. The crowds were AMAZING. I’ve never seen anything like it. From the start to the finish, there was hardly a point without spectators. And they weren’t just watching and offering a few words of encouragement. They screamed, shouted, held signs, offered ice (all ice came from them, not the race), licorice, oranges, hoses and sprinklers, and frozen yogurt. And they did this for hours on end. The enthusiasm was incredible even though some 18,000 people were well ahead of us. Boston College, where Heartbreak Hill is, was perhaps the most intense. The road was still just two lanes wide and the crowd was several deep. They were loud-deafening- and outrageous.<br />
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It was also incredible to see the support for Tufts. I’m biased, but I swear I heard more cheers specifically for Tufts than any other jersey. Only “Dana Fahbah” came close. While many of the Tufts cheers came from random folks, there were also tons of Tufts groups watching all along the course. And I’m willing to bet there were more official water stops manned by Tufts students than any other organization. I couldn’t go more than a few yards without hearing a cheer directed at me because of my yellow shirt and blue hat. It was an amazing show of support, and made a huge difference.<br />
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Back to the race. There are four uphills from about mile 15 to 21, ending with the famous Heartbreak Hill. I had to walk parts of the earlier hills, but knowing this could be the only time I do this race, I was determined to run the entire Heartbreak Hill. I knew I might pay for it, but I’d be damned if didn’t get the memory of what it was like to run up that thing. As a stand-alone hill, contrary to popular belief, it really isn’t that bad. What’s tough about it is the point in the race and ensuing descent, pounding on already spent quads.<br />
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At that point, the debate in my head started- “Only 5 (4, 3, 2) miles to go, you’ve done this thousands of time”…”It’s just to the high school and back”… vs. “I don’t want to go another step.” The mile markers seemed to be spread much further apart. I just continued the slow jog/walk/drink cycle. Honestly, I felt guilty walking. The fans were so incredible, I felt I owed it to them to run.<br />
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It was around mile 23 when I decided I would run the entire last 1.2 miles. I owed it to the race. The mile 25 marker comes right at the top of the Mass Pike overpass, so I walked up that and then stumbled into a jog. It was a very long 1.2 miles, every step hurt, but I did it. I was lucky to see Christine, Nick and Leah about 200 yards before the finish and went over for hugs. That was awesome. They have put up with all of the training and chatter around the race.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;">This gives you an idea of how crowded it was, even at the end of the race. Photo: NT.</td></tr>
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Coach was at the finish. He said I was depleted, to keep moving to the VIP finishing tent and get something into me.</div>
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At that point a volunteer grabbed my arm and walked me to the tent. As she asked me basic questions, I knew she was screening me for the med tent. I felt like saying, “I know what you’re doing…,” but instead said I was fine and continued on. I’ll spare you of all the details, but suffice it to say I was toast. It was hard to function for probably 15 minutes, and it was another 30 minutes before I felt I could leave the sanctuary of the tent.<br />
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A few parting comments:<br />
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1. My 10K splits actually were fairly even- 57:25, 1:02:38, 1:02:54 and 1:06:01. I’ve seen plenty of splits that went parabolic, so it seems to me I gauged my effort fairly well. Sure, there’s a piece of me that is disappointed in the time. I’d like to know what I could do under better conditions. But I was able to 1) enjoy the experience, and 2) avoid injury- those were my two primary goals six months ago.<br />
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2. A big thanks to all of those that helped with my fundraising. It allowed me to run, but more importantly raised important funds for the Tufts Nutrition School.<br />
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3. Speaking of nutrition, I’m curious about what I could have done better. I took in nearly twice the fluid than planned, and about the same calories. I was probably a little light on the salt, but I figured the extra Gatorade made up for that. The one time I peed (mile 7), it was a very light yellow, so I figured I was OK. I think it’s possible to get into trouble from too much fluid, so I didn’t want to get ridiculous.<br />
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4. Next up? It’s time to get back on the bike. I’ve been on for a total of 90 minutes since September. Where did I put those training wheels? Polarbear should be interesting. By the time Pirate Tri rolls around, I should be better. I’m also signed up for Norway, which I’ve never done before. Then the big one is Sprint Nationals. I’d really like to improve upon my 2011 performance. That race was hot (sounds familiar) and mid day (familiar). This year, the race is in the morning and I’ve figured out several other things that should help. I’d love to win my age group, but the competition should be stiffer because the race will have 3-4 times the competitors, and many will likely double up from Saturday’s Olympic race.<br />
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5. “Coach, ” otherwise known as Don Megerle, is great. The fact that 95 out of 96 Tufts starters, most of whom were first-timers, finished the race on a day like this is amazing. In talking with many of them, I heard countless examples of his dedication to the team. If a runner was injured, he showed up at every PT appointment. He cut fresh strawberries as part of his multiple aid stations- for training runs every week for six months. The night before the race, he called me to ask what I thought about the message that was being put out by the BAA- which was alarming, encouraging people not to run due to the heat. We agreed that those at the greatest risk were the higher end athletes that wouldn’t adapt to the conditions. At the end of the call, I asked if he could send a couple of the Tufts Marathon hats sometime after the race. He said he would have them to the hotel before we left in the morning, “I’ll probably drop them off between 3 and 4 (AM).” Half an hour later, the front desk called to say we had a package. His dedication to the Team and school is incredible.<br />
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6. Lasting memories…Coach’s efforts…the support for Tufts on the course…the incredibly energetic crowd that stretched for 26 miles…seeing the family before the finish…the view of the finish line as I turned onto Boylston…running a race with TWENTY-TWO THOUSAND FOUR HUNDRED EIGHTY starters…<br />
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</div>MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-23830168970279430862012-04-15T06:46:00.005-04:002012-04-15T07:24:06.565-04:00Game ChangerAs recently as four days ago, the weather forecast for Boston was all over the place. Then it became more consistent and my only concern was a possible strong headwind. That was then.<br /><br />Now we're looking at temperatures in the mid to high EIGHTIES. This is no longer a race. You can deal with nearly any other weather, making adjustments with clothing and still make it a race, going for your goal time. But heat is a different matter. Sure, there are plenty of adjustments to make. But unfortunately, the biggest adjustment is effort. Overheating can be very dangerous, and once that point is reached, it's tough to recover.<br /><br />I read a bunch of articles that discuss running in high temps to get suggestions. Problem is, they weren't very helpful. Run early in the day before it warms up? No. Find a shady course or trail? No. Acclimatize for 10-14 days? Not so much. I read one article that reviewed the famous 1982 Boston when Salazar beat Beardsley by two seconds. By the way, there's a great youtube clip that shows the last few miles. Anyway, is was noted that Bill Rogers, who was expected to be the one to challenge Salazar, suffered due to the heat that day. IT WAS ONLY 68 DEGREES!<br /><br />When it became clear yesterday that it would be scorching hot, the emails and web postings started to fly. The organizers and charities will allow everyone to defer entry to next year. Even the fundraising can count towards next year. I gave it some serious, serious consideration, but in the end decided to run. Here's my plan:<br /><br />- Most importantly, adjust my goal. I'm not quite sure what's realistic, but probably something like 3:45, 30 minutes slower than I wanted. And that goal is adjustable. It's far more important to have a healthy finish.<br />- Run / walk protocol, or walking at regular intervals. While I've never even practiced it, I've heard plenty about it. And it really isn't that different from interval training. This should help my heart rate to recover a bit and allow me to be more diligent at aid stations. I'm not sure what the intervals will be. It could be as simple as walking every aid station, or it could be determined by heart rate. Which leads me to...<br />- Wear a heart rate monitor. I haven't trained with it, but I think I have enough experience to make it useful. I will also be able to watch the change/increase as the race wears on.<br />- Wear arm coolers. These will keep the sun off, have some sort of fancy fabric that promotes cooling, and can absorb cold water every mile.<br />- Bring extra salt and gels.<br /><br />I think I can monitor my own condition and make adjustments. But I'm concerned about other runners. A few years ago, Chicago had a disaster in this kind of heat. Because of that, I would imagine that Boston will be better prepared. However, there are two key differences with Boston. First, no one has been able to run in warmer weather. It will be a shock to the system. Second, Boston is the only marathon where you need to run a qualifying time to get in (other than us charity runners). There will be thousands of people that worked really hard just to get there. Knowing something about the Type-A, bulldog competitor mentality, these folks may not let anything get in their way. I fear for Tuesday's headlines.<br /><br />Here we go....MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-51989823052956281412012-04-08T20:22:00.005-04:002012-04-08T21:22:51.053-04:00On your mark....This time next week, I'll be wondering if I will get ANY sleep the night before the Boston Marathon. Given that I've been waking up at 4 AM recently, feeling ready to go and immediately thinking about the race, I doubt sleep will come a week from now. My taper has been going very well. We've been home for the last two weekends- my first since November- which means I haven't skied in three weeks and I've had plenty of time to rest. I finally figured out my ideal napping/tv watching position with elevated legs. This has led to some epic amounts of a whole lotta nuthin. I'm talking about 2+ hours per day for two weekends in a row.<br /><br />While tapers bring all sorts of energy back to the body, they also typically bring other odd sensations. I swear that constant exercise creates some sort of buffer around injuries. When the volume of exercise is cut back, that buffer subsides. The newly exposed nagging pains can be disconcerting, whether or not you've experienced the process before. I'm feeling it in my left hip and feet. Obviously it's from all of the pounding. I really don't think it's anything more serious than that. And when I run I feel fine.<br /><br />Tapers gradually reduce volume. They also change training speeds. In general, my weekly routines have evolved into two different speeds. As a point of reference, I'm shooting for a 3:15, which is 7:25/mi. Most running during the taper is easy- 8-8:20. Then once per week intervals (200s and 400s) get me down to exact race pace. It feels very easy, and should. I'm not trying to build fitness. With the slow running, I'm maintaining fitness and promoting recovery. With the intervals, I'm training my neurological system what it feels like to go at my target speed.<br /><br />That's what I'm supposed to do...but it doesn't always happen that way. Two weeks ago my long run was 9 miles. I planned the run as much as possible to mimic the race- the time of day, my nutrition from the time I woke up, my nutrition during the run, and the clothes/equipment I would use. For example, I plan to carry a Fuel Belt bottle for the first 7 miles of the marathon. It will have one scoop of Heed and two Hammer Gels mixed with water. I typically don't run while carrying anything, so I wanted to get used to the feeling. This dress rehersal had me pretty excited. After a mile, I looked down at my Garmin and saw I was going about 7:40. It was hard to believe because it felt soooo easy. So I tried to shorten my stride, relax and slow down. After a while I looked down again and I was even faster. This cycle repeated itself to the point where I ran 7:00 for miles 6 and 7, still feeling great. It was one of those runs where I felt great, wanted to let it fly, but knew I should slow down. It probably wasn't smart, but I went with it. I felt the effects for a couple of days. Not smart, but lots of fun. It also was a bit of a boost to my confidence.<br /><br />One huge variable with the race that I have zero control over is the weather. I know two week forcasts are useless, but I've been looking anyway. It's changed several times, and has varied from 49 degrees and rain to 70 degrees and sun. At least it shouldn't snow. At this point I'm not sure how I'll handle heavy rain. The other stuff I can adjust to.<br /><br />I look at long distance events as a mix of art and science. We can train at a certain pace and practice nutrition. That's the science. The art of the race comes from all of the necessary adjustments that are needed. Knowing when to adjust can be tough. Should I stick to my plan and fight through this discomfort, or should I be smart, listen to my body and adjust? For example, given that I haven't run in weather warmer than about 50, a 70 degree day will require more fluids, electrolytes, and possibly a slower pace, especially early on.<br /><br />In the end, I think I'm smart enough and have trained well enough to have a good race. My key will be to enjoy it. I need to stay loose, smile, and take in the experience. That will promote fluid movements, extend my range and give me a better result. Go easy to go fast.<br /><br />Speaking of results, <a href="http://www.baa.org/">www.baa.org</a> will have live 5K splits. My bib # is 25251. I expect to be pretty slow in the beginning due to the crowd of runners and the fact that I start at the back of the pack- there will be thousands of people to get past. After the first 5K, I should be around 22:49 per 5K. <br /><br />Get set....MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-10756268902731913022012-03-14T19:22:00.007-04:002012-03-14T21:18:22.734-04:00Getting CloserBoston 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: <br /><div><br /><div></div><br /><div>- 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.</div><br /><div>- 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:</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8bqtV9QL7QMp8wxHpR9c-ipCUk3Qj8EW4eUt3m7ReFTP25_lDfD9eTo82sh8-THvqhsMqhi6j3j8BInQkVIToo_9gynoWwEdK0_jlQBiDBbzB0MIpiSjoRJsz645fDKA7NAlnTUt3ldHo/s1600/Top+of+Sugarloaf.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719923473833110962" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8bqtV9QL7QMp8wxHpR9c-ipCUk3Qj8EW4eUt3m7ReFTP25_lDfD9eTo82sh8-THvqhsMqhi6j3j8BInQkVIToo_9gynoWwEdK0_jlQBiDBbzB0MIpiSjoRJsz645fDKA7NAlnTUt3ldHo/s400/Top+of+Sugarloaf.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>- 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:</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkLjtrUyXCXQTaIRP06dtWpZEdXHNwWhuMLgrG4e1lClgU1zKwRR-D1jOK7L3Lt6uaBplRbv1WzVq5lBnd4EYT4SFh3RdAUDFfGacbQIHM7OoadWQ6Qx7-tx2AKjXfkhNE3LsZadhci5lE/s1600/DSCN1348.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5719923484128922034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkLjtrUyXCXQTaIRP06dtWpZEdXHNwWhuMLgrG4e1lClgU1zKwRR-D1jOK7L3Lt6uaBplRbv1WzVq5lBnd4EYT4SFh3RdAUDFfGacbQIHM7OoadWQ6Qx7-tx2AKjXfkhNE3LsZadhci5lE/s400/DSCN1348.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><div></div><br /><div></div><br /><div>- 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.....</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>- 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.</div><br /><div>- 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.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>Till next time.....</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>-------------------------------</div><br /><div>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. </div></div>MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-23498942856435510152012-02-03T20:17:00.005-05:002012-02-03T21:05:12.300-05:00The Sound of SilenceI 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br /><div>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.</div><br /><div></div><br /><div>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.</div><br /><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZXw6XsVyr1_R-6dLh0Ik-jG-5Q96jbiLTGz6-ZKYQw9MTy5DHsVTJHDbW6jozBSJ8LcoWZSL1pkm4obhOIyu3vpzKdz174KBbjUVUw8qsGrz2RF6pCGjSc2XFq_2DeJaDdienoMjspU_J/s1600/run.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 299px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5705093738172944114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZXw6XsVyr1_R-6dLh0Ik-jG-5Q96jbiLTGz6-ZKYQw9MTy5DHsVTJHDbW6jozBSJ8LcoWZSL1pkm4obhOIyu3vpzKdz174KBbjUVUw8qsGrz2RF6pCGjSc2XFq_2DeJaDdienoMjspU_J/s400/run.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div>MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-73739191228917955202012-01-20T20:16:00.005-05:002012-01-20T21:12:26.106-05:00Checking In With CoachToday 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:<br /><br />- 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.<br /><br />- 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.<br /><br />- My longest run should be no longer than 18 miles, and no closer than 5 weeks before April 16.<br /><br />- 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.<br /><br />- 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.<br /><br />- 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />In Coach We Trust!MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-7976805619449693112012-01-16T06:36:00.005-05:002012-01-16T07:49:57.462-05:00Three Months to BostonAssuming 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.<br /><br />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....<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />By the way, if you're interested in contributing to the effort, <a href="http://www.tuftsmarathonchallenge.com/runners/steventenney">click here</a>.MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-91204655135176117332011-09-10T20:54:00.009-04:002011-09-11T06:38:39.375-04:00Finally...The Perfect Race...The Megerle RaceThe 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.<br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br />This is the way I need to race. Positive thoughts, relaxed, let the race come to me, stay loose.<br /><br /><br />Thanks, Coach!MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-3796492681568643252011-06-26T10:14:00.004-04:002011-06-26T12:18:27.388-04:00Infinite LoopYesterday 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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-79616847733399840552010-11-16T21:35:00.005-05:002010-11-19T20:12:11.323-05:00D-DayFriday, 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.<br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br />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.<br /><br /><br />-------------------------------<br /><br />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.MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-43068474545579116032010-10-07T19:15:00.004-04:002010-10-17T19:49:33.546-04:00Running NakedSince this summer, most of my training has been naked. I run naked and I bike in the garage naked. Swimming isn't quite naked, but I do my best. This naked training is liberating as I just go with what's presented and enjoy the surroundings.<br /><br /><br />In this case, I'm not equating naked to without clothes. I'm equating it to training without a plan and most importantly, without DATA. I haven't uploaded data to Training Peaks, planned workouts on trainingpeaks.com, or recorded workouts there. For a few years, I recorded nearly every pedal stroke, lap swum and stride strided. Power, cadence, heartrate, pace, speed, intervals- all of it went into the computer. I dissected all of it, analyzed it, compared it to other sessions, and used it to plan future efforts.<br /><br /><br />Last week I actually ran without any sort of watch on at all (gasp!). I have no idea what my time was. And I loved every minute of it. What I do know is that it was 6.2 miles, and was the same route I had so much trouble with back in June that I had to walk three times. Two days later I was in the ER.<br /><br /><br />The epitome of naked running is trail running. On trails, there are so many ups and downs, twists and turns, rocks, trees and puddles that the data would be meaningless anyway. Last week I took Bob T out to Bradbury. We simply headed out into the woods without any idea of where we were going. After 45 minutes, we miraculously found ourselves back at the start, so we crossed the road and ran around and up the "mountain." The total run was 1:15, and a great workout. At one point, I asked Bob how fast he thought we were running. His response, based on effort, was "about 7:30." My Garmin, which I was wearing just in case we got really lost, told me we were closer to 10:00. It's just completely different. I am hooked. It's an incredible feeling to run in the woods as opposed to pounding the pavement on the same roads I've done hundreds of times.<br /><br />Most importantly, I'm finding this naked training is introducing FUN into the equation. Previously, my satisfaction came from the results, rather than the workout itself. I enjoyed pushing lots of watts up a hill and turning in good intervals on the track or road. But my focus on data gave me tunnel vision. It put me in a frame of mind where, even when I wasn't in the middle of a workout, I was (too) focused on it.<br /><br />I believe a shift to include more fun can help me to be a more complete athlete. Will it help me go faster? I don't know. That will be discussed another day. But with running, I think it's very possible. Trail running is easier on the body due to the lack of pounding, and strengthens the legs and body due to the "3D" aspect compared to "2D" road running. Constant hills will also make me stronger. As for technique, I find it's better than ever when I do a bit of road running after a long run on the trails.<br /><br />On Saturdays at 8AM, I've been running with the <a href="http://trailmonsterrunning.blogspot.com/2010/10/running-with-dogs.html">Trailmonsters</a>, a great group of folks. So far, it's been either Bradbury or Pineland. There are a couple of different paces and distances. The first day I joined them, it was hot and humid, and I struggled to make 6 miles. Most recently, we went about 10 miles in 1:35. The website says where the next run is.<br /><br />Come join us. And yes, come fully clothed.MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-83520272187896938812010-09-26T11:54:00.005-04:002010-09-26T12:54:20.326-04:00Race Report: CELT Sprint Relay- and a Poetic Full CircleToday was the CELT Sprint Triathlon, a local race that started in the pool that I spent many, many hours in in the 80's. Last year we entered a family relay. This year, Leah and I recruited Nate to take the bike leg. Like last week with Jeff, Nate's effort not only allowed me to participate, but he also gave it 100% knowing that for us, performance was taking a back seat to participation. That means a great deal to me.<br /><br />Before the race, a woman came us to me and said, "You probably don't remember me, but...." I'm terrible with names, but I did recognize her face. I couldn't remember the context, however. "I was the CT scan technician when you came into Maine Medical." Bingo. Back on June 25, perhaps the worst day of my life, she was the one that ran the CT scan that showed I was in deep trouble with multiple and extensive pulmonary emobli, or clotting. I asked her what went on behind the scenes that day. Technicians aren't allowed to give evaluations to patients, but they do enough of them to know when to raise the red flag. Apparently, a great big red flag went up that day as they immediately called a radiologist in the hospital who was able to look at the scan, then ordered me to the ER. She was very pleasant, helpful, caring and professional on that day. The fact that we then bumped into each other today, at a race, seems incredibly poetic. That scan symbolized the end of my real season back in June, and here was the technician introducing herself as we prepped for a race.<br /><br />My swim went fine. They sent all of the relays in the first heat. In this race, it's common to get some fast high school swimmers doing relays. I had no idea how it would play out. I was somewhere between "get near the front from the start and hold on," to "stay under control so you don't fade at the end." For nearly the entire 425 yards, a high school swimmer in the next lane over was the only one in front of me, about two body lengths ahead. When I got out of the pool, however, I heard I was the first one out of the water. Huh? Apparently, he swam an extra 100 yards. Whoops. Here's the run to T1:<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ccNjspxTHd44J4_xRt9kaOtCbaoWr21KAc5Vka12f3YTqMrWW7o__pz57Hc2oTgRCI3C6Zru0sQxTxIgfp_ZC39a8BOhmSxQscb8r8mLfPob7VnNm5afeG7NQiBa6FsyHsat2xC7NnfL/s1600/DSCN0821.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521254822942939570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_ccNjspxTHd44J4_xRt9kaOtCbaoWr21KAc5Vka12f3YTqMrWW7o__pz57Hc2oTgRCI3C6Zru0sQxTxIgfp_ZC39a8BOhmSxQscb8r8mLfPob7VnNm5afeG7NQiBa6FsyHsat2xC7NnfL/s400/DSCN0821.JPG" /></a><br /><br />While Nate was out attacking the 14 mile bike course and riding in front, Leah and I got ready for the run. We ran the first part of the course, then she threw in some stretching:<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKNe48PPD66pHHwLH9odzErCb9GD5PeIT6VhNnYJN89GVHzwtDi5g36uoCAgAw__c2K-1fMe8nbcipNnOcGI0r_NTLZucrEkihZgG82pZxpEE_REUOxO_hB1KLWj3bwQClkq3DPFtMxdWW/s1600/DSCN0822.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521254827249776370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKNe48PPD66pHHwLH9odzErCb9GD5PeIT6VhNnYJN89GVHzwtDi5g36uoCAgAw__c2K-1fMe8nbcipNnOcGI0r_NTLZucrEkihZgG82pZxpEE_REUOxO_hB1KLWj3bwQClkq3DPFtMxdWW/s400/DSCN0822.JPG" /></a><br /><br />3 miles is a good distance for a 10 year old. I warned her about the adrenaline rush that we all get at the start of a race and to keep it slow and steady. She didn't exactly remember. This is Leah heading out as the FIRST runner on the course:<br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9UOPH12VgoLA5x4-hH-WnIKtTg32HWhG4r2TKHgpRxRQRdMDz33_hImZpS4CJ0J_hfcxK_O507R0x41UpjcWSvbd3u6vtxsUVvnDJLsD7Nkww0avGHWFT9DuC_iYCcxjnJtJ6b1TFGRwI/s1600/DSCN0824.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521254833923466258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9UOPH12VgoLA5x4-hH-WnIKtTg32HWhG4r2TKHgpRxRQRdMDz33_hImZpS4CJ0J_hfcxK_O507R0x41UpjcWSvbd3u6vtxsUVvnDJLsD7Nkww0avGHWFT9DuC_iYCcxjnJtJ6b1TFGRwI/s400/DSCN0824.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br />The run was all on a great trail system, and included a "bridge":<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi99xZFKAFXBQr1Jq0fIW1th5KpkKqdOddlWHtZpxeqdlhOuPLDfCOO8YKNFWLxbeWPBbj-NAKWIZ9uJ-duvs2ceS4oGeuJgZpxeyGCCVKK1NsxTOWA3iUg8zRImXsROYNvLggPE00cEB6z/s1600/DSCN0828.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521254841500516210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi99xZFKAFXBQr1Jq0fIW1th5KpkKqdOddlWHtZpxeqdlhOuPLDfCOO8YKNFWLxbeWPBbj-NAKWIZ9uJ-duvs2ceS4oGeuJgZpxeyGCCVKK1NsxTOWA3iUg8zRImXsROYNvLggPE00cEB6z/s400/DSCN0828.JPG" /></a><br /><br />She struggled with side stitches and a knee she hurt in ballet this week, but kept fighting the whole way. With about 1/3 of a mile to go, a 12 year old girl passed us. According to plan, Leah then told me to run ahead to get a picture of her at the finish. So I ran up to the other girl, passed her, and glanced back. Leah was much closer than I expected. So I ran harder. And looked. She was still there. With about 100 yards to go, I looked and saw Leah with a huge lead on the other girl. Unbelievable. There was no way I could get to the finish line and prepare for a picture, so this is what I got:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1Jm3JAL32Snv94XaYMqMqWa1XZJaM7ZtwZG52bErVypwAaoRdYJgFzGSg_dmyrGGyprsL796uapsdAXDfQoDQA0XGybKGYlVtL_YqLYvs7tHSSR3VxDgwjfCuF6T4mDz2fWJqwPuPRu7/s1600/DSCN0829.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521254840489318050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx1Jm3JAL32Snv94XaYMqMqWa1XZJaM7ZtwZG52bErVypwAaoRdYJgFzGSg_dmyrGGyprsL796uapsdAXDfQoDQA0XGybKGYlVtL_YqLYvs7tHSSR3VxDgwjfCuF6T4mDz2fWJqwPuPRu7/s400/DSCN0829.JPG" /></a><br /><br />It wasn't an easy run for her. She fought pain and fatigue, walking when she needed to, and beat it all to have a strong finish. I'm very proud of her! Here's the team:<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcY-O711TN6fGa0GpP6eR2cd8f4-doqla4N3FShGkgGotaCnVDP-nrLo6hyOTf8AxHzUR1U_dwAzMr6CiQSiI4NsFt3O1-zVYt5Xk8RuzOtmpnZnLqnF2AzgrgWsCDCaOZhLM1uDN5-x7J/s1600/DSCN0830.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5521256922487073666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcY-O711TN6fGa0GpP6eR2cd8f4-doqla4N3FShGkgGotaCnVDP-nrLo6hyOTf8AxHzUR1U_dwAzMr6CiQSiI4NsFt3O1-zVYt5Xk8RuzOtmpnZnLqnF2AzgrgWsCDCaOZhLM1uDN5-x7J/s400/DSCN0830.JPG" /></a><br /><br />So that's it for the 2010 triathlon season. It sure didn't play out the way I expected, and I have no idea what to expect for next year. But I do have great memories from these last two races, and am very appreciative of the support shown by friends.<br /><br />Let the offseason begin.<br /><br /><br />-------------------------------<br /><br />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.MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-88371838779194997792010-09-20T19:49:00.006-04:002010-09-20T21:07:10.673-04:00Race Report: LobstermanThis RR should really be called a participation report. The goal wasn't to go fast, but to be there, see everyone again, and enjoy the whole experience. Check, check, CHECK.<br /><br />To give a full story, I should back up a bit. Due to the coumadin (blood thinner to prevent clotting), I can't ride a bike on the road. If I crashed, I'd be in a heap of trouble because the bleeding wouldn't stop easily. So I decided to do a relay, and was fortunate to get Jeff Fisher to take the bike portion. We've gotten to know each other over the last couple of years, partly because we're very close in triathlon ability. He's a great biker. My swim and his bike cancel each other out, and we're similar runners.<br /><br />Getting ready for the race was humorous. Everything was packed away from early June, so Friday night was occupied by digging all of it out. Later on, I discovered that I forgot a bunch of stuff, like my mixed water bottles in the fridge, etc. And that was without bike preparation which has the most stuff.<br /><br />Driving to Freeport was filled with excitement and anticipation. The music was loud, the sun was dawning on a beautiful (and cold) morning, and I couldn't wait to get there. When I turned onto the access road, Rocky's <em>Eye of the Tiger</em> was playing and I could hardly hold it all in. I hadn't been a part of a race since early June- in other words, nearly all of the season.<br /><br />The best part of the day was reconnecting with friends I hadn't seen for so long. I knew how they raced this summer, but that's weak. I wanted to really catch up. I was also touched by all of the concern ind interest people showed about my ordeal. The support makes a huge difference in how I deal with all of this uncertainty and change.<br /><br />Going in, I told myself it was about participating, not racing. The docs have told me I won't have clotting issues, but warn me not to go to hard and get injured. It was also about a certain mindset. Call it a result of a new-found appreciation for the gift we have in being able to be a part of this great sport in the beautiful surroundings of Maine.<br /><br />All of the relays and aquavelos started in the fourth wave. I figured it was better to try and stay wide of the crowds so I maintained the enjoyment factor. Normally I start in the front row and quickly get clear of the masses. This day I started in the second row and had to swim with my head up while the group got sorted out. Finally I was able to get to the right side and clear water. I maintained a comfortable pace, one I could stay at for a long time. I only accelerated around the buoys to get clear of the pile-ups. After the first leg, it seemed like everyone took each leg in a wide arc. While I could be wrong, I think I was fairly straight and in clear water the rest of the way. And I enjoyed every minute of it. As it turned out, my time, while not where it usually is, was better than I expected.<br /><br />When I stood up at the end of the swim, my instincts took over. I started stripping my wetsuit off down to my waist while running up to T1. I know I didn't need to because I was just handing the timing chip off to Jeff, but it was reassuring that my instincts are still there.<br /><br />As for Jeff and his bike.....whoa. Mr. Sandbagger had the fastest split of the day among all of the relays and triathletes. 25 miles (or so) in 1:00:19. He gave it everything he had, even though he knew that wasn't my objective. That's just the kind of guy he is. Thanks, Jeff!<br /><br />I started the run nice and comfortable. Even though the first mile has a long uphill that I took my time on, I was very pleased to see my split of 7:35- about 35 seconds faster than I've been training. That pace held very steady for the first half. Finally, friends doing the triathlon started catching me. I sped up to run with them (6:45ish) for about half a mile, then would back off until the next one came along. This repeated three times, and I thoroughly enjoyed every single one. It felt great running shoulder to shoulder again. I was also really impressed with how hard Chris, Jared and Bob were working. They stayed strong, but there was nothing extra in their tanks. Now that I think about it, I saw that with many of the 800 athletes out there. They left everything out on the course. Very impressive. Hours after finishing (about 4 1/2 hours after the start), I saw a guy trying to finish the "run" and dealing with leg cramps. I stopped to talk with him, asked if he needed anything, and reassured him that he was close and there were no more uphills remaining. He worked just as hard as those who won.<br /><br />If you can forgive a momentary detour from this feel-good report, I need to rant a bit about the drafting. As I was running out over the first two miles, I saw three different groups, each with 5-15 riders, tightly bunched together. Give me a break! They know damn well what the rules are, and blatantly break them. It's cheating. There's no other way to describe it, other than cheating. I'm not talking about a small bunch with a few folks passing others so there's a temporary overlap. These were two wide, eight long, a just feet between them. I was so pissed at them I yelled. I wondered if I was being a jerk, maybe I should just focus on the fun day and let it go....But I didn't. I've heard a few too many stories about races in Maine where this is happening. It isn't safe, and it's cheating. The other thing I don't understand is that as triathletes, we derive satisfaction from an inner feel of how we did on the day. How can they look at themselves in the mirror and give an honest assessment of their performance? Drafting is faster and easier. And it's cheating. I did see two official motorcycles out there, but not in the right place. Looking at the results, I see 11 athletes with penalties. The first male with a penalty finished in 107th. Sure, penalties will happen, and drafting sometimes happens. So my guess is these 11 fall into the category of what typically happens in a "clean" race. I'm not sure what needs to happen to stop this trend. More officials? Is there anything we as competitors can do? It's really frustrating.<br /><br />Phew. Got that off my chest.<br /><br />I finished the run in 47:46, a 7:42 average. I was thrilled with that. I know I can get back into good shape now. It was a great day, and I'm still filled with the great experience. We ended up 6th out of 62 teams. Given the objective, that's very satisfactory. It was also great to see so many teams entered.<br /><br />Next week.......the CELT Sprint. I have Nate Smith biking and Leah is running. I'm not sure who else will be there, but I'm thinking there's an outside chance that Leah could start the run in first place. I can hold my own in the pool swim, and Nate's a strong biker. That would be fun!<br /><br />Again, thanks for all of the good wishes!<br /><br />-------------------------------<br /><br />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.MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-9653821432904613122010-09-06T20:16:00.008-04:002010-09-08T21:09:44.857-04:00Speed Golf: Two Sports CollideA few weeks ago I launched into an uninformed, impromptu game of speed golf. I ran around the 9-hole Castine Golf Club with a full bag of clubs in about 47 minutes. The next day was 42 minutes. Upon returning home, I looked up the rules of speed golf, and was pleased at what I saw. The score is the sum of your time in minutes and shots taken, you play with between one and six clubs, and you don't pull the pin.<br /><br />Last weekend we returned to Castine, and I couldn't wait to try again, this time using the real rules. I gave a great deal of thought as to how I should approach it. Sort of like a triathlon, the right equipment is critical. The first task was to choose a pair of shoes-<br /><br /><br /><div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_GhZQOGicoBCb30TVvTaAiH2SE5ePBgDO577ZIkNXUYHh-k3yHiUI0vPcR_JCRQa404eKcg7qVH9ZpKhNuPow4AevT3QDSt_FXBvuSaH05Aue3jGGshTDqgR18033CgoDBrB4LF9jPyo/s1600/DSCN0805.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513960010882983698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1_GhZQOGicoBCb30TVvTaAiH2SE5ePBgDO577ZIkNXUYHh-k3yHiUI0vPcR_JCRQa404eKcg7qVH9ZpKhNuPow4AevT3QDSt_FXBvuSaH05Aue3jGGshTDqgR18033CgoDBrB4LF9jPyo/s400/DSCN0805.JPG" /></a></div></div><div> </div><div>The golf shoes have a better grip while swinging and stay fairly dry, while the running shoes are the most comfortable and possibly the fastest. I went with the train running shoes, figuring they would stay drier than my road shoes. Good choice. Speed golf happens early in the morning when there is a nice layer of dew.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Club selection comes next. I wanted to take a minimalist approach, figuring 1-3 clubs would be easy to carry. A critical part of golf is choosing the right club for the distance required. That's why most golfers carry something like 14 clubs. Using only three obviously gives you far fewer options. I went with a 5-iron, pitching wedge and putter-</div><div> </div><div></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeCdwwiMQg72aScjNXfOlBHhpJmn3Xfks77DWoJNRd-coA-3EZVonwsARuwObfeiyRJx24_UFEpBv44xEcgn203MH2mwQ1OoemZuzlSGQvPu2_FrgB5zKXbY20BGieuJZy-jOMR2omANgd/s1600/DSCN0807.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513962151328419218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeCdwwiMQg72aScjNXfOlBHhpJmn3Xfks77DWoJNRd-coA-3EZVonwsARuwObfeiyRJx24_UFEpBv44xEcgn203MH2mwQ1OoemZuzlSGQvPu2_FrgB5zKXbY20BGieuJZy-jOMR2omANgd/s400/DSCN0807.JPG" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>My 3-wood, an obvious candidate, just isn't reliable enough. Or better said, the guy using the damn club isn't consistent enough with it. If I ever get comfortable with it, I think that's the next addition. For some good golfers, they should be able to reach a par-4 with two 5-iron shots. The club is fairly versatile, working well in the fairway and slightly longer grass. Also, it's my club of choice on the par-3 second. The other par-3, the 4th, is a 7-iron for me, so I just hoped I could take something off of my swing to make it work. As it turns out, it worked well.<br /></div><div> </div><div>As for other equipment, I decided to carry 9 balls because I'm really not very good at the normally dumb game of golf. I can easily lose a bunch of balls in a round. I don't always lose them to the woods or water, either. Sometimes I just don't pay attention or lose sight of the ball on an otherwise good shot, and can't find it. As it turns out, because I was playing with a 5-iron as my longest club, the ball pretty much stayed in front of me, and I only lost four on day one and one on day two. For calories, I took a banana, which was completely smushed when I reached for it after the first nine holes. I included a small towel in the hopes it would cut down on the bouncing fanny pack. I think it probably made it worse, so I ditched it on day two.<br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZz4Na574A0c9SDMMHFGxrN80rf3M-gkxUgZCSaXCDPHjVLHcijJaTrYiLSHzMpIz2KiP22Ziv0N3BM4kkKp54-wcVblP1jzLy_284XTRVvtQyQh64sjdyyLxvWn4UIJtqnqnJn7qz4RYt/s1600/DSCN0809.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513960029162970210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZz4Na574A0c9SDMMHFGxrN80rf3M-gkxUgZCSaXCDPHjVLHcijJaTrYiLSHzMpIz2KiP22Ziv0N3BM4kkKp54-wcVblP1jzLy_284XTRVvtQyQh64sjdyyLxvWn4UIJtqnqnJn7qz4RYt/s400/DSCN0809.JPG" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>So I got everything ready, warmed up with a bunch of swings, an teed off. Here's a view of the first fairway. Those white spots are seagulls hanging out. They actually posed a problem due the the feathers they shed here and there. Due to my aforementioned inability to follow a shot, little white puffs on the course look and awful lot like little white golf balls, so I ended up going around in circles a bunch of times trying to find my ball.</div><div><br /> </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIVvoiTIydcoChl0w_R0ZqPrFJcuxy3Q1qQk0UeZu65RKKztbzVus0_NkIxNrBKip6DQYa7RlusQxUHW0eLy6PGZsCz_OW5l96LWuYJD1g43u7UUhL5tMO4osLql1MsRZZwPFFhIFZTVgH/s1600/DSCN0810.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513960034653244258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIVvoiTIydcoChl0w_R0ZqPrFJcuxy3Q1qQk0UeZu65RKKztbzVus0_NkIxNrBKip6DQYa7RlusQxUHW0eLy6PGZsCz_OW5l96LWuYJD1g43u7UUhL5tMO4osLql1MsRZZwPFFhIFZTVgH/s400/DSCN0810.JPG" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>So I whacked the little white ball around the course, and actually played fairly well. Most importantly, I had a blast. Normally it takes over two hours to play just nine holes due to all of the waiting around for others to hit, etiquette, club selection and shot preparation. I finished 18 holes in 1:10. Day two was exactly the same. As I ran up to the ball, I looked at the pin, slope of the lie, etc, knew what club I needed, whether I needed to choke up, got my feet set, paused and took another whack. I'd watch the initial trajectory of the short, pick up my other two clubs, start running, and try to pick up where the ball was landing.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div>Sometimes I think all of the deliberate work golfers put in is counterproductive. They get psyched out. This way, there was no time for that. There was also no time to get really frustrated with my game. I wasn't dwelling on how lousy the last shot was because I was on to the next shot so quickly.</div><div> </div><div>Many pure golfers think this whole thing is a load of crap. Something about the purity of the game. You need to think of speed golf as a completely new sport. A whole new paradigm. Then you can appreciate the fact that it's a great combination of aerobic activity, interval running, and calm, precise shot making. It's a lot like biathlon where they cross country ski and shoot rifles in the Olympics.<br /></div><div>On Monday, day 2, I made a few adjustments. First, I was tired of fishing for tees in my pack during the round, so I loaded up my laces with what I thought would be enough. You can see here I started with six:</div><div><br /></div><div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6EYEfKJNCycHHuKnUkDLEBzVXI6EAc7UsJM3UqeqWOO62-CSa94EI_DC6gOvFwfcODzGVBjbddVAxDgsMBEsTwtrenzkAC8j1eg71Vv8Biu52_UKm6_WrGAQmpBqStG8kcKU78WeTpEH4/s1600/DSCN0811.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513960038307548242" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg6EYEfKJNCycHHuKnUkDLEBzVXI6EAc7UsJM3UqeqWOO62-CSa94EI_DC6gOvFwfcODzGVBjbddVAxDgsMBEsTwtrenzkAC8j1eg71Vv8Biu52_UKm6_WrGAQmpBqStG8kcKU78WeTpEH4/s400/DSCN0811.JPG" /></a></div><br /><div> </div><div>Unfortunately, I lost or forgot three tees in just the first five holes, so I had to start scrounging for leftover tees, most which were broken. As it turned out, I made it to the end without a problem.</div><div></div><br /><div>Other adjustments included swapping the banana for a Powerbar, ditching the towel, and going with just six balls. My golf game was far worse on day 2 as I added a whopping 12 shots. When you look at the card below, you'll see I am obviously not much of a golfer. I just don't understand how people can play 18 holes, multiple times a week while doing everything else in life. Sure, triathlon takes some time, but it's generally just 1-2 hours. Anyway, I only play a couple of times per year. Having said that, I wonder how many shots I give up without a full bag of clubs.<br /></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMVn1qsnr7e7b-PDWFKKRyHLGqhfZJ-0K0QDVNECdLODMTGerkTlHx7ku4sxXVjXpk_CFiKoDubbnHowPb2CHj_UMpfvTdPzgMUrqfb0rEO87waLm3xtXXynOPNR0-p0rfgPYQGNK80hV/s1600/DSCN0814.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5513961635824121330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGMVn1qsnr7e7b-PDWFKKRyHLGqhfZJ-0K0QDVNECdLODMTGerkTlHx7ku4sxXVjXpk_CFiKoDubbnHowPb2CHj_UMpfvTdPzgMUrqfb0rEO87waLm3xtXXynOPNR0-p0rfgPYQGNK80hV/s400/DSCN0814.JPG" /></a><br /></div><div>The 37:47, 31:56, 34:40 and 33:51 are my times. The 178 and 189 are my speed golf scores.</div><div><br />So if anyone out there is interested, I'd love to do some more of this around here. Just let me know.</div><div> </div><div> </div><div>--------------------------------</div><div> </div><div> </div><div>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.</div><div><br /> </div><br /><div></div></div></div>MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-2590730897274358062010-08-31T19:54:00.010-04:002010-08-31T20:57:20.160-04:00ClearanceLast week we had a great vacation on Peaks Island. The ocean has always been magical for me. I can just stare at the waves, currents, wind, boat and animals for hours on end. So the view from the house was great. For those of you that know Casco Bay, Cushing Is. is on the right, Ram and the Ram Is. light are on the left, and Cape Elizabeth is in the distance.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1fgNefRPF2N9LqLBgbsslNnzmvk1eCdO28LtRIOaX_mMaMhYdQbrizMs3FWMCQrlhpzFkUoitC_K2kH4Q0XTNRvgNkHvV47zlE8AfFs9g2aTNDAZ_M1bAMqjgJpMXfj-IFb-zeExvW28U/s1600/DSC01624.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511731464995853714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1fgNefRPF2N9LqLBgbsslNnzmvk1eCdO28LtRIOaX_mMaMhYdQbrizMs3FWMCQrlhpzFkUoitC_K2kH4Q0XTNRvgNkHvV47zlE8AfFs9g2aTNDAZ_M1bAMqjgJpMXfj-IFb-zeExvW28U/s400/DSC01624.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br />We loaded up the boat and launched it at Falmouth Town Landing. Now this is the way to go on vacation.....<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG8vTSqetOqHk4A0Zuvcmr64hbbGyew534BFqr4wXBX2q2Xps6u8wAlQYmBqNR8ojzTFVBj23QoJYlZ8MhVI5X8MFK92TOADxEkTpM9lepVr-r70y8L6oUTZp4m0EfEQ41M3XKblWSiHaH/s1600/DSCN0755.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511731472426756658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhG8vTSqetOqHk4A0Zuvcmr64hbbGyew534BFqr4wXBX2q2Xps6u8wAlQYmBqNR8ojzTFVBj23QoJYlZ8MhVI5X8MFK92TOADxEkTpM9lepVr-r70y8L6oUTZp4m0EfEQ41M3XKblWSiHaH/s400/DSCN0755.JPG" /></a><br /><br />We made rock towers of all sorts....<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGalFg457Q2pwYULTjurc1x0JvYT0A6CmoxOpmdTKCc0Kib9KgOjGYvw7OzuswUsPh5L3AlzOhQixrm6VKizKXQ71EH6k-PGbQMMiv4mc-8cpVKFPmcL4lIrUwDy1N6ej7axvRiz0ssK89/s1600/DSC01616.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 267px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511731450948047122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGalFg457Q2pwYULTjurc1x0JvYT0A6CmoxOpmdTKCc0Kib9KgOjGYvw7OzuswUsPh5L3AlzOhQixrm6VKizKXQ71EH6k-PGbQMMiv4mc-8cpVKFPmcL4lIrUwDy1N6ej7axvRiz0ssK89/s400/DSC01616.JPG" /></a><br /><br />enjoyed sunsets looking back at Portland.......<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqm-U4s-QQ1fejmRmBgU1lcuHkKtrAWsvpmTqK9p1sHs3U2lXQh8p6Yn8E8uukCY7rHtVKUSWAYdQ_fRa7s0i_Q5AMzi2tP4coPymtYStRm_wJHG22SsiY_hQTzFS0ojwNOwud4QBu-N6e/s1600/DSCN0784.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511731503331268082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqm-U4s-QQ1fejmRmBgU1lcuHkKtrAWsvpmTqK9p1sHs3U2lXQh8p6Yn8E8uukCY7rHtVKUSWAYdQ_fRa7s0i_Q5AMzi2tP4coPymtYStRm_wJHG22SsiY_hQTzFS0ojwNOwud4QBu-N6e/s400/DSCN0784.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br />and Nick made the jump off of the ferry pier.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNQO7lfSiaqZb_C7du4JUvCg84KIEYGxlxpXP7fy5hCA3NMqjpVVZHge_N4xp6uQJ09F9nYHG2wBv3hOqtl1uDaiTjSovDrKeCJ0LJUSzrpcXadR0JZDvNtbMFlNn_r3JBZgnvpaRjM8O5/s1600/DSCN0792.JPG"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511731491284004690" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNQO7lfSiaqZb_C7du4JUvCg84KIEYGxlxpXP7fy5hCA3NMqjpVVZHge_N4xp6uQJ09F9nYHG2wBv3hOqtl1uDaiTjSovDrKeCJ0LJUSzrpcXadR0JZDvNtbMFlNn_r3JBZgnvpaRjM8O5/s400/DSCN0792.JPG" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br />Personally, I found time every day to nap, read, and play (occasionally too) ferocious games of spit with Leah. I also ran every day. That was six days in a row, starting with 4 miles, and ended with 5 miles on the last three days. The 5 mile race course is marked at intersections and mile markers, so it was easy to keep track of my pace. For a race that generally goes around the perimeter of an island, it's surprisingly hilly. Without too much straining, I got my pace down to 8:30, which is promising.<br /><br /><br /><br />On Saturday afternoon, I got a pain in my ribs which made me a bit nervous. Was another clot lodging in my lungs? I took Sunday off from exercise, and the pain gradually went away. Today I went to see my doctor, as previously scheduled, and he said it's likely scar tissue in the sack around the lungs.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Importantly, I asked about activity levels. The message was pretty clear- he isn't concerned about further clotting as long as I'm on Coumadin. That means I can go hard. His only concern is doing too much, too fast, and ending up with some sort of injury. So I have clearance to get back at it! That's a great feeling.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />I'm signed up for the Lobsterman relay, doing the swim and run, and Jeff F. will be my biker. He's a great guy, always friendly, and a fierce competitor. We've traded off "wins" for a few years now in triathlons. His strength is on the bike, and will go 100%. He also realizes I'm in the race to participate, not to race. I'm there to see friends, watch the race, enjoy the atmosphere, and thank volunteers.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br />On a more somber note....a friend recently had a serious medical issue. Like me, they were in great shape and very healthy. It's easy for some of us to feel invincible- we put ourselves under so much physical stress and break down mental barriers that we feel nothing can take us down. But that simply isn't true. We are all vulnerable. In the Portland area, I can think of four or five good athletes who have had serious to life threatening issues this summer. Pleeeease make sure your affairs are in order while you still have options available. Treasure what you have. And realize that we rely on many people in order to take on this sport.<br /><br /><br /><br />I look forward to seeing many of you on Saturday, September 18th in Freeport. It'll be a blast!<br /><br /><br />-----------------------------------<br /><br /><br />You remember 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.MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-80372590110263783042010-08-18T20:18:00.005-04:002010-08-18T20:48:47.406-04:00Still WonderingLike life and a training season, I’ve had a bunch of ups and downs for the last few weeks. The head games continue as we try to figure out why I had pulmonary emboli in the first place. Everything has come back negative, which is good and bad. It’s good that I don’t have the scary stuff they’ve tested for, but it’s bad that I’m left hanging.<br /><br />I’ve met all sorts of people who either had something related to PEs, are or were on Coumadin, or know someone who is. After each conversation, I try to apply it to my situation. I then extrapolate that out into the future and think about how it will affect me. Will I be able to ride a bike on the road? Will I be able to put in hard efforts in any sport? Will I be able to work out for more than 30 minutes?<br /><br />One person, a father in perhaps the most intelligent family I’ve ever come across, was a professor of physiology. He suggested effort caused the problem. The thought of not going for a long run or ride, or not doing hard intervals, was depressing. I love that stuff. I use to go to the track early in the morning, descend intervals, set a goal for the last one, and when I reached it, have a little celebration. I badly want to do that again, but don’t know if it will be possible. After further consideration of his theory, it doesn’t add up, but that doubt still lingers.<br /><br />Another person broke her hip after doing three marathons in a month (!!), was on Coumadin for a year, and likely won’t get back to that level of running. She did most of her running on trails, loving every moment of it, and could relate firsthand to the possibility that I won’t compete like I used to. She had good advice for me, saying I need to mourn the loss if that is indeed what happens.<br /><br />I got up early one morning while on vacation last week. It was stunning outside. Clear sky, the sun was just coming up, it was nice and warm, and it was quiet- the world wasn’t up yet. I really wanted to go out for a few hours and run or ride, leaving everything on the road (figuratively speaking). But that isn’t in the cards yet. I have been doing some shorter runs, however. I’m going about 3.5 miles at a 9 minute pace. I generally feel fine. In the pool, I'm up to 2600 meters.<br /><br />After three days in a row of running, however, I had some chest pain, so I figured I should take it easy the next day. I went for a walk, and when I got back, realized I had time for some golf. We stay about 200 yards from the first tee, so I grabbed my bag and headed over. I kept moving along, only taking one warm-up swing at a time, and finished nine holes in just 1:07. When I was done, I was told I just missed the record- 48 minutes by a 60 year old (that doesn’t sound like “just missed” to me). I had no idea there was a record. You can take the man out of the competition, but you can’t take the competition out of the man. I showed up the next day, ran with a full bag of clubs, a finished in 47 minutes. It’s actually a great workout. Although on a very different scale, I felt like a biathlete- they cross country ski really hard, then need to calm down enough to take an accurate rifle shot. Two days later, I finished in 42 minutes. Since then, I’ve learned the real “speed golf” rules (the most significant being that you carry between one and six clubs vs. a full bag), and will give it another shot over Labor Day weekend.<br /><br />I head to Boston on September 10 for the next phase of doctor work. I feel really good about the doctor I decided on. She’s experienced and has very good credentials. Importantly, she has also been an athlete herself. So she can relate to my desire to get back out there. “Coumadin for life” won’t be the easy way out for her. It might be the ultimate answer, but not until the traditional and cutting edge work is exhausted.<br /><br />I’ve been told it takes six to eight weeks for clots to clear. This Friday is eight weeks. Something tells me that deserves a bit of a celebration.<br /><br />------------------------------------------<br /><br />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.MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-5899797385873956272010-07-26T21:06:00.008-04:002010-07-27T21:06:36.999-04:00Looking for Help in the 21st CenturyAs I said in my last <a href="http://mainesport.blogspot.com/2010/07/christmas-eve-in-july.html"><strong><span style="color:#ff0000;">post</span></strong></a>, I'm headed to Boston for further analysis. The docs in Maine, while solid, just don't specialize enough. In Boston, I might end up with an academic-based doctor who can spend the time figuring me out. At this point, however, I don't know who I'm going to see. I have one recommendation from my hematologist, but I want to make sure we get this step right. As a result, I'm trying to leverage the internet. I'm calling on all readers and friends who know someone- or know someone who knows someone- to pass this along.<br /><br /><br />Specifically, <strong><span style="color:#ff0000;"><em>I'm looking for a doctor who specializes in blood clotting disorders in otherwise healthy subjects- even better, someone who includes strong endurance athletes in their work</em></span></strong>- especially those who have no other freakin' symptoms.<br /><br /><br />Here's a rundown of what we know:<br /><br /><br />First, the short story. No other symptoms or risk factors- other than the clotting itself. In other words, a total mystery.<br /><br /><br />Now the long story. I'm a successful endurance athlete (triathlons), training 10-11 hours per week. Before the ER, had chest pain and felt like I was training at altitude. I occasionally spit up a small amount of bright red blood, generally after exercise. No family history or other typical risk factors (flights, dehydration, etc.). No DVTs. Lower right lung adalectisis. Both pulmonary arteries about 90% blocked, additional clotting, especially on the right side. Cardiac echos were fine. Mildly prominent prostate. Otherwise clear abdominal contrast CT scan. Pleural-based opacities within lower lobes. Upon arrival to the ER, thrombotic risk profile all within normal, including Factor 5 Leiden. Tested for PNH and to determine PSA, waiting for results, very doubtful. Currently on 12.5 mg. warfarin with an INR of 3.1. I'm happy to provide more details or doctors' files.<br /><br /><br />So for those reading this post who know a doctor who might have a suggestions, please pass this along. My future athletics may rely on finding the right person.<br /><br /><br />There's also a bigger picture here. First, if I have a genetic disorder, a day will come when my kids should know about it. Second, if this is a result of some sort of confluence of events or factors, there's a good chance other endurance athletes should know about it. Their lives may depend upon it.<br /><br /><br />Thank you in advance for your help.MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-34780596181565306972010-07-26T19:33:00.008-04:002010-07-26T21:03:48.218-04:00Christmas Eve In JulyI think it's about time for some good news- which started coming in about the time I wrote my last post, and hasn't let up since then.<br /><br />I'll start with the medical stuff. First, the abdominal CT scan, looking for tumors, came back negative. That was a major relief. Even though two doctors told me they seriously doubted I'd be positive, it was still nerve-wracking. Next came the latest INR reading, which was a robust 3.1. To put this in perspective, 3.5 is about as extreme as they go, which is for those who have mechanical heart valves. Now I get to have two weeks between blood tests instead of one.<br /><br />The downside to all of this is that we still don't know what caused the clots. That's important because it can determine how long I'm on Coumadin. I know it will be at least six months. But if we don't find a cause, it could be a lifetime. That means no more bike riding on the road, which means no triathlons, and other activities could be eliminated such as skiing, ocean sailing and trail running. Needless to say, we still want to find the cause. As a result, I'll go to Boston for some far more advanced analysis. The search for the most appropriate doctor will be the subject of my next post.<br /><br />When I saw the pulmonologist last week, I asked again about activity limitations. He said I could start back on the path to recovery, keeping my heartrate to no more than 60-80% of max. <em>Excitement building.</em> So I can go for a run? Yes. <em>Great!</em> "But I wouldn't do a road race until you've been on Coumadin for 3 months." <em>Wahoo!!! </em>I burst out laughing. Are you joking? The suggestion that I could do a road race two months from now gave me a huge lift. Not that I have anything planned, or will even feel ready for one by that point, but just having the prospect of being able to handle that kind of activity was a great moment. I decided then and there I'd go for a run on Thursday morning.<br /><br />On Monday, I returned to the pool for the first time. It was great to see everyone, even though I received a few worried glances- <em>Are you sure you can do this? Are you going to start bleeding all over the place? </em>During the summer, we swim at an outdoor 25m pool in Portland. The water is crisp, clear and clean. I hopped in, swam down to the other end, turned, and pushed off. The feeling of streamlining off the wall was great. I only went 600m, but it felt incredible to be back in the pool. On Tuesday, I did a light spin on the bike, and on Wednesday returned to the pool for 1400m. The increase was after the doc said I could safely pick things up.<br /><br />That night, we were hit by a series of huge thunderstorms. Leah freaked out, so she took my place in bed and I ended upstairs in the guestroom. Between the storm, stuffy air, allowing the dog to take shelter in the room, and sleeping in a twin bed (not great for someone who is 6' 2"), I didn't sleep very well. But the real reason for the lack of sleep was the anticipation for the run. It was like Christmas Eve as a kid. I finally got up around 4 and watched a bit of a movie. Then at 5, I headed out. I decided to alternate half miles walk/run, times three. It's a flat out-and-back, and I know the mileage markers. Those first running strides made my day. Sure, the legs felt heavy, slow and unstable. But I was <em>running.</em> I didn't care about the speed, and in fact kept it slow to keep my heartrate down. I had an ear-to-ear grin the entire way. The sun came up through the morning mist. The temperature was a perfect 70 degrees. U2's <em>It's a Beautiful Day </em>played. And I was running down the road. It's hard to accurately describe the feeling. I was on top of the world. It was the best Christmas in July.<br /><br />Since then, I've had a few more runs and swims. It still feels great.<br /><br />....................................<br /><br />“You remember 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.”MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-48658195705669476202010-07-18T12:29:00.003-04:002010-07-18T12:43:19.393-04:00"You Were Very, Very Fortunate"On July 4, 1939, at Yankee Stadium, Lou Gherig’s stepped to the microphone. Disabled by ALS, a disease that would claim his life two years later, he proclaimed, “Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the earth. That I might have been given a bad break, but I’ve got an awful lot to live for.” Here’s a baseball and sports icon, thinking he’s lucky. He was giving up the game he loved, and knew his days were numbered. I’m beginning to understand.<br /><div><br />Now don’t jump to any conclusions. At this point in time, I expect to be healthy and competing again. I don’t believe my life is in danger. However I’m beginning to understand just how close I did come to death. (It’s hard to write that word.) And this is helping me to look at my life in a different light, to appreciate and treasure and value that which is really most important.</div><div><br />Over the last two weeks, I’ve been busy with medical appointments and plenty of blood draws. The major task has been to get my INR up to an acceptable level. The International Normalization Ratio shows how easily your blood clots. Most people are under 1. By taking Coumadin, my target is somewhere around 2.5, which should prevent further clotting. Given the extensive clotting and blockages, in particular in both pulmonary arteries, a further clot on top of what I already have could easily be fatal. The pulmonary artery takes blood from the heart to the lungs, splitting in two, one for each lung. Then the blood vessels keep splitting and branching out until they are tiny capillaries, at which point the blood absorbs oxygen, goes back to the heart, then out to the entire body. If blood can’t get through the lungs, no oxygen gets to the body and all of the organs- including the brain and heart. That isn’t good. My INR was taking its sweet time getting up to an acceptable level. It was only 1.2 when I got out of the hospital, then 1.6 around July 4th, 1.7, then it actually dropped to 1.6. Throughout, we kept increasing the Coumadin dosage. The dosing is taken very seriously- the drug is also used as rat poison. Take too much, and you bleed out.</div><div><br />All of the testing for genetic blood clotting disorders came back negative. That’s good, however the cause remains a mystery. As a result, my doctor referred me to a hematologist. In doing so, he warned me that outside of major metro areas that allow for medical specialization, hematologists are also oncologists, and the office I would be visiting was at the Maine Center for Cancer Medicine. He doesn’t think I have cancer, and didn’t want me to panic when I saw where I was going. I thanked him- without fully appreciating his warning.</div><div><br />When we returned from a weekend in Castine, I had mail waiting for me. It was a welcome package and forms to fill in before my appointment. I sat down. Wow. I’m filling in forms for a visit to a cancer office. Cancer. Cancer. What am I getting into? To make matters worse, I started Googling “cancer and blood clots.” I went from bad to worse. Then Christine started doing the same. Now two of us were in a tailspin. Then Nick walked in the room and saw the brochure from the Cancer Center. He paused, looked up and essentially asked if I had cancer. We explained that that’s just where the office was, and we’re just checking anyway. I’m not sure how affected he was- as a typical 14 year old, he doesn’t show excessive emotion.</div><div><br />So on Wednesday, I went to the hematologist. Walking in was tough. Here’s the sign that greeted me: </div><div> </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIN2M-Q6akGNkR64S73ZWbW4J4AcTWNmV7ANOSCKLTGfR9P736syLDdPndjL_wP8qNbtVSglnHv6wmx9b6vPZsuTVKrmTcDw2_kGRcgo2pljmYGWnZgr7clKD4KKVTXrCGND1DG8AX5eq9/s1600/MCCM.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5495284765492780370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIN2M-Q6akGNkR64S73ZWbW4J4AcTWNmV7ANOSCKLTGfR9P736syLDdPndjL_wP8qNbtVSglnHv6wmx9b6vPZsuTVKrmTcDw2_kGRcgo2pljmYGWnZgr7clKD4KKVTXrCGND1DG8AX5eq9/s400/MCCM.jpg" /></a><br /><div><br /><br />Checking in and going through the normal procedures was depressing. I prayed that I wasn’t going to become a long-term visitor of this office. They even took a picture of me for the computer file. I asked why, and she said, “we have a lot of people with the same name, so this helps.” Now that I think about it, I don’t buy it. That’s what birthdates, addresses and social security numbers are for. I wonder if it’s so they can see how patients’ appearances change over time- while they’re going through treatment. Not exactly a comforting thought.</div><div><br />To make a long story short, I’m going for another CT scan this week, this time for my lower abdomen- to look for tumors. As the doc in the hospital said, clots come from the legs and malignancies. I don’t have anything in my legs, so….. The hematologist really doesn’t think we’re going to find anything. At that point, we will probably do much more specific genetic blood work. My primary care doc completely agrees. Neither covers things up, so I trust their opinions. If I had a type of blood cancer, some of the earlier blood tests would have raised a red flag. And I still have zero additional symptoms. We just have to look for cancer so we can eliminate it as a possibility.</div><div><br />As we reviewed my CT scan from three weeks ago that showed the clots, the hematologist said to me, “you were very, very fortunate,” and explained that it’s very easy to die from what I had. That comment stuck with me. First, I began to realize how close I really came- something like 1.5 millimeters. That isn’t much. Second, and most importantly, I’ve turned around what he said. Instead of “were,” I say “are.” Or in the first person, “I am very, very fortunate.”</div><div><br />Being hit with significant bilateral pulmonary embolisms could prove to be one of the most influential experiences of my life. It has caused me to refocus back on my core values- my family, my health, and my work. In Christine, I have the best and most loving wife in the world. I have two great kids who are healthy. As a family, we are fortunate to live where we do and do the things we do. Nick and Leah will grow up and be great contributors to this world in some still to be determined way. By “great,” I don’t mean famous or monumental. I mean they will be positive contributors, even if it’s in a very localized way. And after all, isn’t that the most important thing we can leave behind?</div><div><br />I am incredibly fortunate to have done the physical things I have done. I love sports and competitions. Some of my clearest positive memories come from high school and college swimming. I don’t remember many times, but I do remember those moments- the great personal breakthrough races where I helped my team. As for triathlon, how many people even get to participate, much less achieve what I’ve done? Two Ironmans, tons of shorter races, all resulting in a spot earned on Team USA. I am incredibly fortunate to have progressed without injury. But honestly, if I had to choose between those accomplishments and all of the people I’ve met through the sport, there’s no doubt I’d take the latter. This is a group that wants to go faster than the next guy given every opportunity in the water or on the road- but when it’s over, helps each other out in any and every way possible. It’s a striking dichotomy and a great tribute to the sport. Triathlon can be a very lonely sport, and one that tests each individual almost daily during solo training sessions. It’s the unending support and camaraderie that gets us through to the next workout and race.<br /><br />Again, don’t get me wrong- I have every intention of working hard and being competitive again. It will be done in a new light and in a new context, however. Greetings and conversations will be a bit longer and more sincere. There will be better balance in my life. I will look across the lake and view the road ahead with greater appreciation for how fortunate I am to be able to swim, bike and run at that moment and in that location.</div><div><br />And for my family, hugs last a little longer. I’m a better listener, especially for the meaning behind the words. And my life balance is better. I am incredibly fortunate to have had this scare, to have survived, and to have learned from it.</div><div> </div><div>....................................</div><div><br />“You remember 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.” </div>MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-55773764542745065272010-07-01T20:42:00.003-04:002010-07-01T21:32:17.816-04:00Head GamesFirst things first. In general, I feel better. I've been on blood thinners for almost a week now, and am told the risk of a further clot forming is extremely low.<br /><br />That space between my ears, however, is messed up. I know it's normal, but that doesn't make it easier. I've become a hypochondriac, sensing every little sensation, wondering if something is going to go wrong. When I walked out of the hospital on Sunday, I felt like a ticking time bomb. Since then, I've begun to educate myself on what happened. Most clots come from the legs, and can first present themselves as tight or swollen calf muscles. <em>What's that twinge in my calf? Is a clot about to dislodge, travel to my lungs and plant itself on top of my 85% blocked artery and kill me? </em>I've learned that getting a massage, a perfectly normal solution, can help release them. <em>Why is my chest tight? </em>Airplane rides right after a race can also increase the chances of a problem. <em>Why do my ribs hurt? I feel fine, I'd love to go for a run. I hope I don't drop dead. I can't wait to get back in the pool. </em>I'm told this is much like post-traumatic stress disorder and is normal. Which in a strange way, is comforting.<br /><em></em><br />I'm discovering that there are enough endurance athletes out there that have clotting issues and PEs that some work is being done on the topic. It's incredible how with several "life challenges/tragedies" we find they are more common than we ever imagined. I've made contact with two other triathletes- a 59 yr old male in VT who is still on coumadin but is back competing, and a 29 year old woman in CA who is currently in the hospital. <a href="http://marit-chrislock-lauterbach.blogspot.com/2010/06/not-exactly-like-captain-phil-but-sort.html"><span style="color:#ff0000;">Marit</span> </a> just had a few great workouts, went to the doctor, and landed in the ER with PEs and DVTs (deep venous thrombosis, or clots in the legs). Misery loves company. And given the lack of knowledge among many doctors, more awareness of the issues is a good thing.<br /><br />A few seemingly small lifestyle changes serve as reminders of what happened and how things will be different. Two days ago I ordered medical alert bracelets. If I'm in some sort of accident, medics need to know I'm on coumadin. I'm not who I (thought I) was. Yesterday I walked to CVS to buy an electric razor. While a small cut won't be life treatening, it likely won't stop easily. I'm not who I (thought I) was. I can't ride a bike on the road as long as I'm on coumadin. A fall could either be life threatening (head) or a major problem (an other internal bruising or bleeding). I'm not who I (thought I) was. I need to really think twice before I go sailing, and certainly racing. Cuts and bruises can certainly occur, and it might not be easy to get to shore. I'm not who I (thought I) was.<br /><br />Without a doubt, all of this has certainly helped put things in perspective. Family is number one. At the height of the crisis, I thought I might never be with Christine again or that I would see my kids again. Those are terrifying thoughts. Last night I acted, in a small way, on this new perspective. We went to a Winterkids fundraiser that had a silent auction and one item in the live auction- two hours of snowboarding with 2-time gold medalist Seth Wescott at Sugarloaf, followed by diner at his restaurant. It made zero economic sense, but I bought/won it with friends. Telling Nick he was going to ride with Seth and seeing his expression was worth every nickle. This will be an experience he will never forget.<br /><br />As for workouts, I've walked about 2 miles every day. I can't go harder because my lungs can't absorb oxygen, and therefore my organs can't get the oxygen they need. As the clots start to dissolve, I'll be able to do more. I don't know how long it will take, but it will get better.<br /><br />As for Budapest, the race is off. In fact, as I said, I can't take my bike out on the road for a while- at least until I get off of the coumadin. While crashes are very rare, they do happen. We've all seen them or been part of one. It became a very easy decision to make when I understood the risks. I don't have to like it, but it was easy. I worked damn hard to make the team, and badly wanted to wear the uniform and compete at that level. But living is more important.<br /><br />Finally, I'd like to share with you something that I hear at 4:00 most days. I never get tired of it. Our head of operations on the floor of the NYSE, who talks to us every two hours (if we listen in), is a great man. He has had several family tragedies in his life, losing his wife and daughter. 9/11 also hit him very hard. Since then, he closes each day with the following. I suggest you take his suggestion:<br /><br /><em>"And you know the rules- keep yourslf 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."</em>MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6688753874699670441.post-83260709033016219092010-06-28T05:56:00.007-04:002010-06-28T12:01:14.727-04:00I am either a freak or a post-menopausal, overweight woman who smokes and just returned from AustraliaThere were moments when I feared for my life. That I wouldn't every see my kids again or live out all of my shared dreams with Christine.<br /><br />So much has happened since my last <a href="http://mainesport.blogspot.com/2010/06/one-hell-of-week.html"><span style="color:#ff0000;"><strong>post</strong></span> </a>. At that point, I thought I would just live with the discomfort, see how things go, and gradually build up my training. But after this weekend, I'm grateful to be alive, see how things go, and look forward to taking a walk.<br /><br />After encouraging training over the weekend, I took Monday off to go to Boston for work. On Tuesday I biked in the AM and swam at noon. Even did some good fly. On Wednesday morning, I went for an easy 6 mile run. The effort felt like a 7:15 pace, but Mr. Garmin said it was abut 8:40. I also had to walk three times. Walk. I walked not because of paid, but because I was gassed. [As a side story, near the end, I passed a guy who I see on the road many times a week. A little while ago we saw each other at an event, and realized we both know Angela. He was aware of her great achievements in triathlons. That morning, he said, "I saw you almost got Angela in that race (Pirate Tri). Nice work!" Sure, rub it in.] Wednesday noon brought a slow swim workout. All of these efforts made me feel like I was at altitude- I just couldn't get enough air in.<br /><br />That afternoon, I had some sudden chest pain to the right of my sternum. Since it was to the right, I figured it wasn't a heart issue, so soldier on. I went out to dinner with my business partners. When I got home, it hurt too much to bend over to untie my shoes or even take a half breath. In addition, I have been spitting up more blood than last week. The next day I did a very easy bike on my trainer, being careful not to breathe so hard that I would cause pain in my chest. In the afternoon, Christine and I went to see our doctor, Jim. He was still thoroughly confused, but said he talked with a pulmonologist, who threw out the wild idea of a PE, or pulmonary embolism, or clot in my lungs. Jim said it didn't make sense, but was willing to try anything. He also said that in case it is, my exercise was now limited to tying my shoes until I got clearance to do more.<br /><br />On Friday afternoon, we went to see the lung doc, who checked me out, performed some lung function tests, then sent me to another location for a contrast CT scan and more blood work. Last week's CT was to look for tumors. For this one, they injected a dye in my arm, at which point they had about 60 seconds to take pictures. It would allow them to see clots that wouldn't have shown up on last week's test. We did the test, and I returned to the waiting room. Minutes later, my world came crashing down.<br /><br />The technician and radiologist came out and said they saw multiple clots in my lungs (I later learned 20+), and some were large. They had called an ambulance and were taking me to the Maine Medical Center ER. My brain immediately went to....clot, stroke, dead. My kids aren't with me, and I'll never see them again. This could be the end. I'll never be with Christine again. I can't be too dramatic here. Tears flowed.<br /><br />There were times when I tried to stay calm. Panic wouldn't help anything. I remember the ambulance guy coming in and asking how I was doing. My response? "Other than that, how was the play, Mrs. Lincoln?"<br /><br />As for the CT scan, both the lung doc and Jim were shocked by what they saw. It just doesn't fit. I have ZERO risk factors. The most common candidate for a PE? A post-menopausal, overweight woman who smokes and was just on a long flight. Yeah, that's me. I can't tell you how many times I was asked the same list of 20 questions in an attempt to find something that makes sense. Nothing fits. They drew a gallon of blood, some of which went to testing. We'll get results in a few days that might help figure this all out.<br /><br />Back to the CT scan waiting room. They assured me that there was no risk of a clot going to my brain. You need a hole in your heart, between the left and right atriums for that to happen, and I had a clean echo last week. Fast forward to the ER. A very good friend, Ed, a cardiologist, was on site. It's normal for PE patients in the ER to get an echo, so the technician came in. As she was almost done, Ed arrived, and she pointed to one possible abnormality. He wasn't sure, but agreed to do a "bubble test" where they inject small bubbles in my IV. We watched on the screen as they filled one side of the heart, and sure enough, leaked through to the other side. A PFO is something that between 15 and 25% of the population has, most without every knowing it. When in utero, the lungs don't function, and there's a hole in the heart. That hole is closed by two overlapping flaps after birth, but not for me. PFOs are nothing to get worried about.....unless you have clots. Great. To make a long story short, it was another scare, makes me nervous, but intellectually is not a concern.<br /><br />They moved me from the ER up to a room at 11PM. The next day, I saw Jim. He was incredibly relieved that we now know what's going on. I was, in turn, relieved to see his relief. I asked a bunch of questions and tried to remember the answers. The subject of Budapest came up. There are two primary risks with the trip. First is the flight- both the air pressure and the long inactivity. Second, a bike crash while on coumadin would not be good. Time has to go by for us to get a handle on this. At this point, I'd be thrilled to still go on the trip, put the uniform on, and just finish. It's funny to think I've had trouble coming up with a goal for this race. Now it's just to finish in one piece. As an aside, I dropped out of Urban Epic last week and Bethel last night. I'm leaving Fireman on the list in the event that we are able to go to Budapest.<br /><br />On Saturday night, I had an echo on my legs. It was around 9PM, and my family had all gone home. As I lay there, she seemed to keep working on certain areas, pushing lots of buttons, etc. Given my recent track record, I was sure there was more bad news on its way. Fortunately, I tested negative for Deep Vein Thrombosis, or clots in the legs. While that's good, we're left wondering where they came from since 85% of clots come from the legs.<br /><br />Most of my time in the hospital was spent in the waiting room or walking the loop around the floor. It was kind of funny how the nurses and doctors had to keep chasing me down to draw blood, take vitals, whatever. The whole time I had five leads taped to my front and a bulky wireless transmitter. This made sleeping rather difficult, in addition to the "just in case" IV sticking in my arm. At one point I was walking circles, carrying my transmitter and iPhone in the same hand. That caused some panic with my nurse as the phone caused my HR to read too high, setting off alarms.<br /><br />Which reminds me of another funny story. While in the ER, I had all sorts of wires attached, and a monitor above my head that I could read. One of the numbers and graphs showed my respiratory rate. I found I could control the shape of the white line with my breath. So I slowed my breathing to 7 (per minute?), which would set off an alarm. I got a kick out of it during a pretty stressful time. Whatever works.<br /><br />On Sunday morning, I learned I would go home that day. While talking with the doctor, I asked to see the CT scan from Friday. I wanted to visualize what was going on. Most of us have two lungs, and each has a pulmonary artery feeding it blood. My guess is they are about 2 cm. wide. Both of mine were/are about 85% blocked. Holy shit. That isn't far from 100% (not good). That visual will stick with me for a long time. So why was I able to function so well before, even on the day they took me to the ER? It's all about my training. To over-simplify, a "normal" person might use 30% of their lung capacity to walk down the road. If you take away 85%, they're in a deficit. I might need 10% to do the same. Take away 85%, and I still have room to operate. Training, however, also made things worse. We train ourselves to push beyond discomfort and previous limits. If we don't hurt, we aren't working hard enough. We feel something, and assume it will pass or we need to work though it. As a result, I didn't take all of this seriously enough. Now I know what it feels like, and I will not make that same mistake again.<br /><br />Walking out of the hospital was tough. I felt incredibly vulnerable. The cord was being cut. What if? What if? Apparently, these feelings are very normal, and subside with time and as confidence rebuilds. I already feel better today. I can take a huge breath without pain, the first time in over two weeks. Physically, I know things will get better. Mentally, this is all pretty heavy now. It's life changing, but I realize it's too soon to know exactly how.<br /><br />One final thing. Through the iPhone and Facebook, many good wishes were received. They were not only a great distraction, but also very comforting and greatly appreciated. Thank you all.MaineSporthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07275717905775732245noreply@blogger.com8