February 14th

For most of us (single guys), February 14th truly only means one thing.  Pitchers and Catchers report to camp today!  For me this has always been one of the most important days of the year.  As long as I can remember, the unofficial start of Spring Training has always been a trigger for me to start day dreams of better months to come.  While still mired in the depressing cold and damp wintery days, knowing that the Pitchers and Catchers have reported for spring training just makes me feel better regardless of my current surroundings.  Hope invades my soul once again as I entertain thoughts of warmer, longer days, bbqing on a whim, girls in sun dresses, and the hope that my baseball team is going to have a great year.  To me, there is nothing better than putting all of life's troubles on hold for 4 hours while I sit in my seat at the ballpark, feasting on hot dogs and nachos, cold beverages in oversized cups, screaming my lungs out or simply lounging while catching some rays.  Growing up in California, a lot of folks love the beach but to me it was always about the ballpark.  Pitchers and Catchers reported today.  It's a great day to be alive.

17

April 19 is a pretty big day for me all things considered. That date in 1994 was my first full day of being sober and I have managed to keep that status ever since. The days leading up to the 19th of April every year since, at least for the first 10 years or so, was always highly anticipated. My 10 year anniversary aside, I typically don't make a big deal out of it. But internally it had always been a big deal. As each year would pass the impact would wane some, but never to the point that it has this year. This year I damn near forgot about it! I was doing my normal morning routine with the coffee and the news on tv when they mentioned that today was the 16th anniversary of the Oklahoma City bombing, which also happened to land on my 1 year anniversary. It wasn't until then that I realized what this day meant for me... How did that happen? How did I go from counting the days like a kid in December waiting for Christmas, to almost forgetting entirely about the day? A better question would be, what does this mean?

Does this mean I am better off than I was 16 years ago? Did I almost forget because not drinking has become such a non-issue that it can almost be said that I no longer have a problem? OR, does this mean I have lost my fear of what could be if I did drink again, thus losing my sense of importance for this accomplishment and therefore putting me in a much more dangerous place in my life. Am I more or less in jeopardy of drinking now than I was 16 years ago? I think if two things can be equally true, you can make a case for this.

It's times like this that have become my struggle. No longer do sudden urges brought on by life's events bring the thought of drinking to my mind, those days passed me a long time ago. My alcoholism has evolved into questions like this one that can never be answered. I think this is why most people who do the program (AA) stick with it years after quitting, it's their safe place.

I say this every year and it bears repeating, this thing is wayyy bigger than I am and there is no way I could do it alone. I have a tremendous support group comprised of a great family I am blessed to be a member of. I have a network of friends who are some of the most amazing people I could ever hope to meet. I have surrounded myself with support, day in and day out. I have the privilege of coaching on the run team for Team in Training, helping people achieve their goals and doing it for a great cause. If you are reading this, know that in some way you are part of my safe place, and for that I owe you a debt I could never repay.

Thank you for 17 years of the best times of my life.

Farewell

My cousin Rick passed away this week. It's been more than a day since I heard the news and it's just now starting to seem real. I keep having flashbacks of episodes in my life that included him, almost all of them included laughing and great conversation. Rick had a unique quality in that when you spoke to him, he seemed to hang on every word, as if he really cared what you had to say, and to prove it he would offer his own observations to what you said that you would end up revisiting in your mind later that day. I always looked forward to seeing him at family functions and they were never quite as fun when he wasn't there. There is so much I wish I could have said to him had I known he was going to leave. This thought is usually my first step in the acceptance of someones death.

Rick was a great writer too. Here is an example of his work that I would argue is New York Times Editorial worthy:

I noticed that our present Failure-in-Chief contacted Obama to congratulate him
on his victory, commenting that he is in for a 'wild ride'. Especially given
the source, what a brilliant metaphor for W's view of the Presidency: unlimited
control over the worlds largest amusement park, a gift for Christmas 2000 from
the Supreme Court to the former First Brat. Unfortunately the park is looking
more like Atlantic City, New Jersey before they legalized gambling, since
George and his frathouse buddies broke most of the really cool rides, and the
only people who want to hang out there now are con artists, loan sharks,
prostitutes and religious fanatics. So the rich kid, in his own special vision
of philanthropy, is passing his busted-up and nearly useless toy to the poor
kid from the other side of the tracks. Unsurprisingly, it wasn't actually his
idea, but his mom made him do it in exchange for not having to eat his broccoli.

Welcome to the helm of the ship of state, President Obama. I hope you brought
your own lifeboat, because there are plenty of icebergs out there, and in the
event that the ship goes down, the steerage passengers will be debarking last.

Rick Barry

I am going to miss Rick. I already do...

There is a new sheriff in town, bitches....

Just before the end of the last Ironteam season, Coach Dan asked me to come back as the Run Coach for Ironteam 2009. Obviously I was honored and thrilled that he asked me and it was pretty much a no-brainer, I accepted the offer immediately. While I may have extensive knowledge in running and limited background with the bike, I know next to nothing about swimming. Therefore, Dan has me working with the fast folks who need no instruction on how to do the drills or the main set, they only need to know the workout. It also alleviates Dan from the dreaded "Bad-Coach" role where I have to tell these guys just how hard they will be working. Last Sunday I received a crash course in Anger Management 101.

This is me explaining the last and hardest segment of the workout.

The first stage of acceptance of said workout is Denial, as seen here with Andrew, followed by Disbelief as illustrated by Christina.
The final stage of acceptance, Rage, clearly evident by Richard.


But don't get me wrong, being the new coach isn't entirely about serving as an emotional tampon, I get to have fun too. Here I am in my baseball uniform which I wore as my costume at the ride n' tie. I had some time to kill and apparently a rule to break.

The sign made no mention of breaking up double plays on the hillside. Dan in the referee outfit got into the act too.

Being a coach on the Ironteam is so much fun!!!

Did you vote???

My apologies for neglecting my blog. I just had to sign in and post something political for the election.

If you haven't already...

Get out and vote!!!

How to Eat in Chicago

After the Ironman, the "Louisville 6" (Nick, Jerald, Jesus, Renee, Trista, and myself) picked up a rental van and took a drive to Cincinnati where we took in a ballgame. The next day we continued north to Chicago where we were to watch a Cubs game from the bleachers, and break our 10 month steady diet of healthy food with an absolute onslaught of midwest delicacy's that could only be described as obscene.

Our first stop was Gino's East Pizza for the world famous Chicago Style Pizza. The five of us ate all of that pizza for lunch. Afterwards we took a cab back to the hotel to rest and re-group as we knew that we had a tall order waiting for us at Gibson's Steakhouse on Rush Street.

Renee ordered the Prime Rib which seeming came right off the side of Fred Flintstone's car.
This was easily the biggest serving of meat I have ever seen one person receive. Needless to say we all helped her eat it.

Jesus and I both ordered the "Chicago Cut" a 24 oz bone-in steak that was nothing short of amazing.

This turned out to be the best steak I ever had, no exaggeration.

Jerald was the big spender of the night, ordering the surf and turf. To say he was ecstatic is a gross understatement.

After the meal, the wine started to kick in with some of the patrons...

I opted for a just slice of lemon meringue pie and a cup of coffee. This is how they serve pie in Chicago...

And now it was my turn to be ecstatic...

The next morning we had breakfast in Wrigleyville. As teammates often do, when one would falter, another would sweep in and help the fallen comrade.
Just before our flight took off, I was able to finish Chicago's culinary Holy Trinity. Chicago Style Pizza, Steak, and finally a Chicago Style Hot Dog!!!

My kinda town, Chicago is!

Ironman Louisville

I crossed the finish line at 13:54:51 with what seemed at the time as much energy as when I started the day. With adrenaline coursing through me like never before, I cheered and clapped as if I was at a Raider game. The catcher introduced herself to me and asked me how I felt. "I feel great, I can't believe how good I feel!" She started to look at me from the corner of her eyes explaining that I shouldn't really feel that good at all. She put my medal around my neck, handed me a bottle of water and promptly escorted me to the med tent as I surely must be delirious and on the verge of passing out. We took the short walk to the med tent which by now looked like a field hospital in the middle east. 50 or so cots with athletes resting and getting IV's. The catcher took me to a doctor who asked me a few questions and had me sit down in a chair for 10 minutes telling me if I still felt OK after that time I could go. I sat there staring at the floor and the wall asking myself if the whole thing really just happen. It's been a week and a half and it's still hard for me to believe I did an Ironman.

The alarm went off at 3:45am but I was already awake. I got right out of bed and started the coffee maker to heat up water for my oatmeal and I brushed my teeth. I was nervous but I knew exactly what I needed to do so there was no panic or anxiety just yet. I could eat and drink my Gatorade but my mind was in a million places at once. It seemed like what was going on in my head made the outside world occur in slow motion. There were a couple times when my roommate Jesus asked me if I was OK, breaking me out of deep thought that I kept falling into. Something really weird happens to me before big events that I haven't done before, my first marathon was the same way. We made our way downstairs just after 5:00am to meet up with the rest of the team in the lobby. Coach Wass made a comment to me that he could tell I was "in the zone". We made the long walk to the transition area to set up our bikes, I believe I said maybe 3 words the whole way down. I noticed Trista was in an especially good mood which drew me too her more. I needed someone upbeat around me, I was getting way too serious for my own good. We set up our bikes and then made our way to the swim start where we were to be body marked before we waited in line. Coach Wass was there with the camera and got one with me in my biggest forced smile to date.
That's as fake as a wooden nickel. I have a smile in that pic but on the inside I feel like I am about to defuse a bomb or land an airliner with the guidance of air traffic control like in one of those bad 70's disaster films featuring Charlton Heston and Steve McQueen. Now that we are in line we wait for about an hour before the canon goes off and the field starts swimming.

Since there is no beach a mass start is not possible, therefore Louisville has a time trial start where 3 to 5 at a time start swimming every 3 seconds from the marina. As we make our way down the gang plank to the dock where the start area is, there is a crowd of about 300 people screaming. Music is blaring and my heart is in my throat, or so it seems. I start looking at the people around me. The same people I learned how to swim with 10 months ago, rode up mountains with over and over and over again. Ran in the heat with, spent countless hours spinning and track workouts over the last year. Here we were at the culmination of every ounce of effort we spent together. And as if it were choreographed back home, we all stopped at one point and looked at each other and went into this group hug. It was obvious that we were all thinking the same thing. We did it. We made it through the training season and we did it together. This day was not the test, that took place over the course of 10 months. Today was the reward and the best part was we were doing it together.
Now I have a lump in my throat the size of a granny smith apple. The emotions that were running through me at this point were totally unexpected, awkward, and beautiful all at once. With 20 feet to go before we enter the water a man in a drill Sergeant tone screams "PUT YOUR GOGGLES ON!!!!" I pop them on my eyes and give them a press to squeeze the air out when a second task master yells "GO! GO! GO!" and with that I dove in the water.

The instant I go under the surface, all the crowd noise ceases, the music is hardly audible and as I reach for the surface and feel air hit my hand, another athlete lands on top of me pushing me back down. The emotions have left completely, I am no longer stressed out, nervous or in the zone. It is now GAME TIME!!! And just as I have done all year long, I simply start swimming as I normally would. The time trial start allows for a lot of space between the swimmers unlike the washing machine effect the mass start would have. I would cruise along and occasionally someone would swim into me or slap my feet, but all in all it wasn't a bad time at all. Due to warm water, wetsuits were not an option and I ended up swimming a bit slower because of it but it really wasn't too bad. When you are swimming in an Ironman, you are pretty amped up so the security and buoyancy of a wetsuit wasn't missed.

I got out of the water and headed to the transition area. Ironman events are over the top when it comes to support and volunteers. As I neared transition there was a volunteer with a megaphone who read my number out loud. In turn, another volunteer heard my number and raced over to grab my T1 bag and hand it to me. I ran to the changing tent where more volunteers were there to hand me Gatorade and help me with sunblock as I got ready for the bike. You could tell these folks were triathletes, they always knew what you wanted and helped you anyway they could. I felt like I was a pro all day long because of these people, they were amazing.

With my bike shoes and cycle shorts on I run out to my bike and head out onto the course. What a rush of adrenaline once again once I got started. I felt the cool air against my body which was still wet from the river and it was soooo nice. I was so happy to be there that I would catch myself giggling and thinking to myself "I'm doing an Ironman! HOLY SHIT!!!" The first 15 miles or so were pretty flat and I was able to keep a pretty good pace. The first turn was an out and back into a valley which meant you had a descent followed by a climb, a turnaround and back. I think I went too fast in there but because the air was still cool and there was a lot of traffic in there it didn't hurt me at all. Once out of the out and back you made a right on the main road and headed to the loop which you end up doing twice. We were warned about the loop with its hills and at times still air which translates into heat with no relief. This is when I backed off the pace and concentrated on nutrition and hydration. It was also around this time that the temperature started to rise. The humidity wasn't bad but it was strong enough to keep sweat from evaporating. Every time I reached an aid station I would take a bottle of Gatorade and two bottles of water, one drink, and one to pour all over me and cool me off. Once through the first loop I felt the pangs of fatigue in my shoulders and neck, and I also started craving real food. Once at special needs I decided I would get off my bike and take a 5 minute break to eat and get out of the pedals. The 5 minutes I lost in overall time paid dividends in my overall energy at the end of the bike.

With 10 miles left in the bike I could make out the skyline of Louisville which sent a renewed energy though me. I was so excited that the bike was almost done, and since I thought I was all alone I let out a roar at the top of my lungs "I'M COMING BACK, BITCHES!!!!' At which point I look to my left to see a police officer leaning against his car, arms folded, looking directly at me shaking his head. I nodded back "Hi, I'm from California..." He cracked a smile and I was on my way.

I re-enter the transition area and a bike catcher runs up to me as I dismount my bike and she takes if from me as if to say "you are racing and can't be bothered with this, allow me..." Again, these people were absolutely amazing. Another volunteer with a megaphone yells my number, and before I knew it, my T2 bag with my run gear was handed to me and back into the tent I go. ***CAUTION, THE FOLLOWING "CHAMOIS SITUATION" DEALS WITH MATURE SUBJECT MATTER. THOSE WITH WEAK STOMACHS AND SMALL CHILDREN SHOULD PROCEED TO THE NEXT PARAGRAPH*** Coach Dan is standing at the entry as if he were there all day waiting for me. "come on, give me your bag!" He said hurriedly. We both jog in and grab a chair. As he dumps my stuff out of the bag I take off my bike shoes and cycle shorts, which are now inside out and throw them to the ground. I put on my running shorts and sit down to put on my shoes as Dan is sorting my stuff out on the ground and asking me how I feel. "I feel really good, Dan. It's awesome out there!" Dan smiles and says "OK, but don't go out too hard on the run, start slow and work your way into it..." as he is saying this I notice my shoulders are pink turning red, I need sunblock bigtime. The tent is so warm and humid I am coated in sweat. I needed something to wipe the sweat off my arms so I could put the sunblock on. I didn't pack a towel in my T2 bag so I look around to see what I can use and the only viable thing available are my cycle shorts. I think about it for a second and think "screw it..." I grab the shorts and carefully wipe my left arm with the legging sleeve, then using my other hand I carefully use the other legging being careful not to get that Chamois anywhere near my skin. For those of you reading this not knowing what I am talking about, the Chamois is the pad in the shorts that I sat on bare assed for 112 miles. Now Dan is talking to me again and he is slightly distracting me. Like a boxer in his corner listening to his manager, I hung on every word but balls of sweat were forming on my eyebrows, nose, and chin. It was so irritating that I couldn't take it anymore and with a quick swipe of my shorts I wiped off my face. FULLY USING THE CHAMOIS IN THE PROCESS... The instant it happened I looked into the chamois, then I looked at Dan who now has a blank stare on his face as if to say "you know what you just did, right?" He giggled for just a second, and like any good coach he diverted the subject to something positive and out the tent I went.

Now off the bike and into the run, I could feel every ounce of the 93 degree heat and the humidity. There was an aid station at every mile and I did not get cheated. Each time I would reach one I would take a cup of ice and pour it down the front and back of my shirt. Then I would take a cup of ice water and pour it over my head. Then I would take a cup of coke and a cup of Gatorade and pound them. I would then grab a piece of banana, some pretzels, and a cup of ice water to drink. I would walk as I ate and drank the water, and once finished I would start running. I did this 25 times. The course was an out and back which you did twice and it was great. Lots of people cheering, the Kentucky/Louisville football game let out and the fans were out watching, and best of all you kept seeing your teammates as you would to out, they would be coming in, and vice versa. Over an over again you would see flames and it would pick you up every time. As night fell and only a few miles left, I started to cramp up a little in my groin so I would walk a bit more till the cramping stopped, then run again. With a mile left I started running with a real purpose. I felt good and the race was almost over. I could hear music and the big crowd at 4th street live and it was JUMPING! The 26mile sign was so beautiful, and perfectly situated on a corner, and as you rounded that corner the sounds of the crowd and music was deafening. Big bright lights lit up the area, almost too bright to see the finish but I could make it out. Thousands of silhouettes clapping and cheering in front of the light. If my feet hit the ground at all I never felt it. My pace picked up and it was totally out of control. When I got to the chute I could feel my cheeks get sore from the biggest smile I may have ever had. I crossed the threshold with my arms in the air and it was over.