Some mornings I wonder why I got out of bed. My wife and daughters were away last week visiting my in-laws for the Presidents' Week break. On Thursday I was headed out of town myself, and I would meet up with my three ladies on Friday. I woke up early enough to be able to fit into my day a three-hour indoor training bike ride. Perched upon my bike in my attic/man cave, I focused on the blaring television in front of me, oblivious to the world around me. Until... Until I heard a faint whimpering. At first I thought nothing of the sound in my head, certain it was just the tv. But when it persisted, I muted to volume (which was pumped up to 80- take that, Spinal Tap) to discover that the fire alarm was screaming at me.
Now, maybe I had the wrong mindset, but it never occurred to me that there might be a fire. I figured that our system, which was already on the fritz, was mocking me. The keypad refused my commands to silence the alarm and so I ran into the basement in my bike cleats to manually reset the system. I called the alarm company to assure them that there was no emergency and was frustrated to learn that they had no clue that my house was supposed to be on fire.
5 minutes lost but still enough time to finish my workout. I climbed back aboard my two-wheeled machine and chugged away. Until... Until I heard a faint whimpering. After I went through this drill 3 times, I gave up on my workout, took a quick shower, and awaited the arrival of the alarm technician so I could leave town in peace, knowing that the system was function and that they fire department wouldn't break down the door for nothing.
It turns out there was a bug in the system. Literally. The most expensive insect in Rochester found his way into the smoke alarm and tripped it repeatedly. $200 later, I had myself a dead bug.
It was time to leave for the Buffalo Airport and I ushered Lola, our not-so-housebroken Havanese into her crate. She looked comforted to be back in the protecting walls of what I often call her "bedroom", though probably because I discovered the several gifts she left me on the living room floor. Not exactly the sort of behavior you expect from a showgirl.
I've made the 1 hour drive to the Buffalo Airport at least a dozen times, but still I don't trust my sense of direction without Rachel to guide me. When the GPS told me to get off the NY Thruway I did, even though the exit didn't look familiar. 3 minutes later I was lost. 30 minutes after my anticipated arrival at the airport, I finally pulled into the parking lot.
When my plane landed at my port of entry and I collected my belongings and found the car service that would attempt to shuttle me to my final destination. Falling from the sky was rain that wished it were snow. Moving slowly with the traffic, the driver rear-ended the car before him, and a minute later both drivers pulled off the highway into an emergency/accident zone. The victim's car was unharmed. But the vehicle that would transport me began to smoke. A minute later the hood was up. And it was rush hour. And I was regretting the giant bottle of water I drank in Buffalo. Nearly 90 minutes later a new car picked me up and 3 hours after I opened the first car's door, I made it to where I was going. Normally a 1-hour drive.
My day would have been a whole lot less frustrating if I just stayed in bed. Though I suppose that wouldn't have stopped the alarm from sounding. I sometimes wonder why things happen the way they do. What was the universe trying to tell me last Thursday? Maybe it was as simple as: TURN THE VOLUME DOWN, FOR GOODNESS SAKE! Take off the headphones and the blinders and look around. Listen Notice the world around.
However, 90 minutes stuck in the highway's emergency pull-off was more opportunity to smell the proverbial roses than I wanted, especially when view around me was rush hour traffic struggling through a foggy backdrop.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
Stick With What Works
I'm changing jobs. I'm changing cities. My children are changing schools. My family has more changes upcoming than I can anticipate. What made me think I needed to change my running shoes?
The truth is, I'm a sucker for fashion over form when it comes to my running shoes. Who wouldn't want a pair of neon green running shoes? My first few runs in my new shoes were fantastic. My new shoes are super lightweight and low to the ground and my body simply wanted to run fast as soon as I slipped them on. Only, they are radically different than the shoes that have nearly molded to my feet by now.
I hate those "I knew better" moments. I got caught somewhere between impulse and self-control and when I set out on just my third run in my new shoes, I knew better. 3, 4, 5 even 6 miles in a different shoes wasn't a big deal. But an 11-mile run without enough time to allow my body to adapt to the form of the new shoe was just, well, stupid. And the truth is, about 2 or 3 miles into the run, that exact thought occurred to me. Now, at that point I could have turned around and headed for home where I might have changed into my normal shoes before heading out to finish the run but I'm far too stubborn for that.
Slowly, over the week following that run a certain feeling started to develop in my left foot. Now I'm fighting through tendonitis in both my left shoulder and my left foot and I've retired my new shoes before I've even logged 30 miles in them. And if my foot worked properly I'd probably kick myself. So my training has been reduced by 2/3- no swimming, no running. Now, I don't want to tempt fate so, for the time being, I think I'll keep my bike on my indoor trainer. At least if I fall it will be on carpeting.
This bumps in the road are indeed part of the journey to the starting line of an Ironman. And indeed, they are a metaphor for the journey of life. Things don't always go as planned. There are inevitable surprises, hurdles and challenges. It is our ability to confront them with wisdom, patience and grace that help define us. In the mean time, I'm going to stick with what works and return to my trusty, old Mizuno running shoes.
Now, can anybody recommend a good acupuncturist?
The truth is, I'm a sucker for fashion over form when it comes to my running shoes. Who wouldn't want a pair of neon green running shoes? My first few runs in my new shoes were fantastic. My new shoes are super lightweight and low to the ground and my body simply wanted to run fast as soon as I slipped them on. Only, they are radically different than the shoes that have nearly molded to my feet by now.
I hate those "I knew better" moments. I got caught somewhere between impulse and self-control and when I set out on just my third run in my new shoes, I knew better. 3, 4, 5 even 6 miles in a different shoes wasn't a big deal. But an 11-mile run without enough time to allow my body to adapt to the form of the new shoe was just, well, stupid. And the truth is, about 2 or 3 miles into the run, that exact thought occurred to me. Now, at that point I could have turned around and headed for home where I might have changed into my normal shoes before heading out to finish the run but I'm far too stubborn for that.
Slowly, over the week following that run a certain feeling started to develop in my left foot. Now I'm fighting through tendonitis in both my left shoulder and my left foot and I've retired my new shoes before I've even logged 30 miles in them. And if my foot worked properly I'd probably kick myself. So my training has been reduced by 2/3- no swimming, no running. Now, I don't want to tempt fate so, for the time being, I think I'll keep my bike on my indoor trainer. At least if I fall it will be on carpeting.
This bumps in the road are indeed part of the journey to the starting line of an Ironman. And indeed, they are a metaphor for the journey of life. Things don't always go as planned. There are inevitable surprises, hurdles and challenges. It is our ability to confront them with wisdom, patience and grace that help define us. In the mean time, I'm going to stick with what works and return to my trusty, old Mizuno running shoes.
Now, can anybody recommend a good acupuncturist?
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
1-Armed Swimming
It was only a matter of time. I wonder if it's possible to spend a year training intensively for an event like an Ironman and not get injured. Endurance athletes are accustomed to pain and discomfort. We learn to ignore small aches. Training only gets you so far. At some point you have to push through the pain. And if you have goals of a specific finishing times, the training intensity increases and so does the suffering.
I've had most of the running injuries you can think of, and even some you can't. You think your face is safe while you run until you find that last patch of ice remaining in the end of March. Luckily I caught my fall. Unluckily, with my chin.
I've fortunately never suffered a training injury from cycling. I've sustained my share of road rash and trail rash from crashes. But other than a couple bike frames, I've never broken anything.
I often hear people speak of the health benefits of swimming. "It's a full body workout," they say. "It's non-impact," they say. "You can't crash," they say. Though I have crashed into the side of the pool a couple times when I wasn't paying attention. Luckily I was wearing protective goggles. "It's a great way to stay in shape if you're injured," they say. When I started swimming I didn't anticipate it would be a source of injury.
When my left shoulder started to hurt over a month ago, I just figured it was one of those aches that would fade mid-workout or, at the worst, in no more than a day or two. It did get a little better with rest, Advil and ice, and then it got a little worse. I felt like ignoring it but, with 7 months of hard training behind me and over 6 months of training ahead of me, I didn't want to take any chances that would set me back considerably, or sideline me altogether.
So it turns out I have tendonitis in my shoulder and a little more wiggle in my shoulder joint than I should. And why should that be a surprise? I've been a cyclist for about 25 years and a runner for about 12. I have strong legs. But, as I said to the shoulder doc, this is the first time I've ever used my shoulder. As a result, I'm sorta' built like a t-rex.
Look at those arms. Those are basically my arms. I can admit it. I'm not embarrassed. I enjoyed Over the Top with Sylvester Stallone as much as the next guy, but I don't arm wrestle for a reason. So should it be any surprise that I injured my shoulder?
It's hard to slow down, even if just by 1/3, but it's better than taking irresponsible risks. My youngest daughter has given my shoulder a few "healing kisses." I appreciate the love and the concern but, honestly, I've built up an immunity to their medical effectiveness. Physical therapy and anti-inflammatories should have me back in the pool soon enough. Until then, I'll try not to back float through life.
Listen to your bodies, people.
I've had most of the running injuries you can think of, and even some you can't. You think your face is safe while you run until you find that last patch of ice remaining in the end of March. Luckily I caught my fall. Unluckily, with my chin.
I've fortunately never suffered a training injury from cycling. I've sustained my share of road rash and trail rash from crashes. But other than a couple bike frames, I've never broken anything.
I often hear people speak of the health benefits of swimming. "It's a full body workout," they say. "It's non-impact," they say. "You can't crash," they say. Though I have crashed into the side of the pool a couple times when I wasn't paying attention. Luckily I was wearing protective goggles. "It's a great way to stay in shape if you're injured," they say. When I started swimming I didn't anticipate it would be a source of injury.
When my left shoulder started to hurt over a month ago, I just figured it was one of those aches that would fade mid-workout or, at the worst, in no more than a day or two. It did get a little better with rest, Advil and ice, and then it got a little worse. I felt like ignoring it but, with 7 months of hard training behind me and over 6 months of training ahead of me, I didn't want to take any chances that would set me back considerably, or sideline me altogether.
So it turns out I have tendonitis in my shoulder and a little more wiggle in my shoulder joint than I should. And why should that be a surprise? I've been a cyclist for about 25 years and a runner for about 12. I have strong legs. But, as I said to the shoulder doc, this is the first time I've ever used my shoulder. As a result, I'm sorta' built like a t-rex.
It's hard to slow down, even if just by 1/3, but it's better than taking irresponsible risks. My youngest daughter has given my shoulder a few "healing kisses." I appreciate the love and the concern but, honestly, I've built up an immunity to their medical effectiveness. Physical therapy and anti-inflammatories should have me back in the pool soon enough. Until then, I'll try not to back float through life.
Listen to your bodies, people.
Saturday, February 4, 2012
My Secret Weapon
When my plane touched down in Israel in the middle of December, a mild pit in my stomach made its way back into the forefront of my consciousness. I love my mother. I make no apologies or excuses about that. I call her every day, in part because I'm a momma's boy and, in part because if I don't call at the usual time, she calls several hours later demanding, "Did you forget about me?" That's what we call Jewish guilt.
My mother has certain opinions about things and after 37 years, I can anticipate them. "How long until my mom tells me to grow my hair longer?" I asked Rachel as we taxied towards the terminal.
When we got to the hotel and met up with my family, and with a big smile, I tore off my hat to reveal my super short haircut. My sister approved. My mother did not. "Why did you do that?" she asked, incredulously.
That has become the question for the last 6 weeks. Why did I cut almostall of my hair off?
Since returning to Rochester and revealing my new look to the world, I cannot even begin to count how many people have asked if I cut my hair short so that I would be faster at the Ironman. "Why else?" I respond, shrugging my shoulder. After all, some of the greatest triathletes in the world have the same haircut. Take Craig Alexander, for instance:
Coach Dan emailed me recently to give me feedback from my recent workouts. My fitness on the bike has been making some promising progress. He concluded the email, "I don't know what you're doing, but keep it up." I surmised that it must be the new haircut that is making me more aerodynamic and eliminating drag, thereby increasing my power output and lowering my average heart rate while training upon my bike affixed to a stationary trainer in my attic. Coach Dan concurred, of course. Years ago Nike aired an Air Jordan marketing campaign called, "It's gotta be the shoes." Well now it's gotta be the haircut. And as I face 7 months to go, I am confident that my secret weapon will guarantee that I reach my goals.
Of course, there is a quieter secret that's less of a weapon, and that answers the question, "Why did I cut my hair so short" a bit more honestly. And the answer is, simply, because I am embracing, wholeheartedly, without shame, my male pattern baldness. I refuse to hide from it, and I refuse to attempt to hide it under various comb-over configurations. It never works and it's just not me. I say, let's go full monty!
My mother has certain opinions about things and after 37 years, I can anticipate them. "How long until my mom tells me to grow my hair longer?" I asked Rachel as we taxied towards the terminal.
When we got to the hotel and met up with my family, and with a big smile, I tore off my hat to reveal my super short haircut. My sister approved. My mother did not. "Why did you do that?" she asked, incredulously.
That has become the question for the last 6 weeks. Why did I cut almostall of my hair off?
Since returning to Rochester and revealing my new look to the world, I cannot even begin to count how many people have asked if I cut my hair short so that I would be faster at the Ironman. "Why else?" I respond, shrugging my shoulder. After all, some of the greatest triathletes in the world have the same haircut. Take Craig Alexander, for instance:
Coach Dan emailed me recently to give me feedback from my recent workouts. My fitness on the bike has been making some promising progress. He concluded the email, "I don't know what you're doing, but keep it up." I surmised that it must be the new haircut that is making me more aerodynamic and eliminating drag, thereby increasing my power output and lowering my average heart rate while training upon my bike affixed to a stationary trainer in my attic. Coach Dan concurred, of course. Years ago Nike aired an Air Jordan marketing campaign called, "It's gotta be the shoes." Well now it's gotta be the haircut. And as I face 7 months to go, I am confident that my secret weapon will guarantee that I reach my goals.
Of course, there is a quieter secret that's less of a weapon, and that answers the question, "Why did I cut my hair so short" a bit more honestly. And the answer is, simply, because I am embracing, wholeheartedly, without shame, my male pattern baldness. I refuse to hide from it, and I refuse to attempt to hide it under various comb-over configurations. It never works and it's just not me. I say, let's go full monty!
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