Charles Barkley

I am one week in and I am quickly realizing how much work needs to be done. The first 7 or so workouts have been banked and they have had some serious stank to them. It's kind of exciting being this out of shape. It has been a while and it has lit a fire under my behind. I talked to my buddy affectionately known as Larry Legend for his feathery hair and incredible Birdlike performances. He is planning on whipping my ass into shape and taunted me by calling me Shaq. How wrong he was... Right now I am Charles Barkley on a pizza bender.

How does that taste, Chuck? Like shame?

The thing about Sir Charles is he could turn ugly very quickly. That's what I'm about to do. I am about to do work in the paint. CHARLES UNLEASHED.

ROUND MOUND OF REBOUND!

Things are about to get turrible around here really quick... well actually, it is going to take a considerable amount of time. But you get it.

Starting from scratch

My wrist has finally healed and I am out of the cast just in time for my hamstring injury to properly stop my leg related exercising. Despite the annoyance of not being able to do my thang thang, I had to get back into swimming anyway. So since I couldn’t do any of the fun sports, I got into the pool. The swimming came back faster than usual which I am hoping goes for biking and running.

I am also taking out my frustration on medicine balls. Slams are the best release ever for the injured athlete. Throwing a ball as hard as you can over and over is the best. Outside of the pure anger of the motion, the best part is the dull unrewarding thud of the ball. There is no glory in slams… only the next slam. I have destroyed 3 medicine balls slamming them too hard which has been gratifying hassle for the sporting goods store. Balling also has been quite effective and, as a result, my core is stronger than usual. I look like pink, but I am way taller, a better singer, and a man.

uhhhh.....

My roommate, Becky, is a PT and has been scraping my hamstring. It’s an unpleasant process but speeds the healing. I started jogging lightly 3 days ago and I realized I literally have zero fitness. I feel like a combination of Cartman and porky pig. I am definitely behind the eight ball for this season, but it will be a long one and I will come back like the furious pigly thing that I am. Get ready for this swine to Ball OUT full force. More blogging to come as things are on the up on and up.

That's all folks.

Despair and Star Wars

And now for something completely different…

It has been a while since writing. This is mainly due to doing things other than the routine swim, bike, and run. The other things have captured my full attention. My triathlon lately has been drink scotch, play games, and eat loaves upon loaves of bread. Not surprisingly, I am really good at this new triathlon. Quite surprisingly, I am actually reasonably fit. I am considering writing a book about alternative triathlon training methods. I think people have got base training all wrong.

I am now playing soccer and I have been focusing on getting ready for the effort so I won’t be sore for a week after each game. My body has adapted really well to moving slowly in one line which lends itself to pitiful soccer skills. So I have been doing a lot of change of direction running, plyometrics, and core stuff to change my body up. Well, I am happy to report that my first game went well. We balled our way to a sweet victory and I scored 2 goals and had an assist. I am however quite unhappy to report that I broke my wrist in said game. I fell on the same wrist twice. On the positive side, the second time I demolished the wrist was on a lofty clean cross to an incredible header for a goal. I fell over onto my wrist as I crossed it but, in a way, the goal made it worth it. As I was laying on the ground, I winced and thought I had just sprained it really bad. I still had some semblance of range of motion in the joint. The thing swelled up quickly and started looking like a flesh balloon. A very painful flesh balloon.

The next day I headed to the urgent care as it had continued to expand. I promptly found out it was busted. Bummer. This has sidelined me for a while from swimming and my usual groove.

In the follow up soccer game, we smoked a bunch of whiners from Camarillo. We had no business beating them as they were dripping with talent but also oozing entitlement and so they blew it. Unfortunately this game caused a micro tear in my hamstring which has completely stopped my training and cast me into a depressed funk. As you all know, life is pretty pointless if you aren't running around for some self-imposed purpose. I have been a thoroughly worthless log this week. The only thing keeping me going is star wars related humor for some odd reason.

Enjoy

.

This year in review

Hey all,

So I have been reflecting on this year as a whole. Obviously it was the best year ever as I got married, went to Scotland, Hawaii, got a real job, and won a Ironman. All of which meant a lot to me. But there is much more to a year than several highlights... You are made of all the days no one sees, sweat, and looking into the mirror often. So here is a look into the mirror.

What went right?

- Every race went reasonably well with no overall disasters other than a sunburn at kona that derailed hopes of a fast marathon. Some were better than others but the consistency was really solid.
- I went into the grave during several races including salvaging what could have been a shameful performance at Kona. I went deeper than I thought was possible and that made me really proud.
- I won an Ironman. That was an incredibly gratifying way to end a good season.
- My running improved significantly and, with the help of Jill, I figured out how to properly put intensity back into the training without putting myself into a big hole.
- It was fun the entire year and I didn't burn out at the end.
- I was consistent all year, didn't get injured, and rarely went 72 hours between training sessions of each sport. Consistency is king in triathlon and I put together a great year in that regard.

What went wrong?
-I lost the ability to maturely exercise and became one of those meat-head idiots who goes out and tries to compete whenever people are around. This really impacted my pacing in races. I was less in tune with what I should be doing in races and more interested in competition. Good and bad but mostly bad, especially in longer stuff.

-Overall, I was a little bit sloppy in my preparation for races and careless with nutrition. If you aren't disciplined about nutrition in training, you can expect issues when you are racing and that's what happened. Twice.
- I strayed from steady long TT efforts on the bike which detached me from understanding my pace on the bike.
- Again, I was fairly unfocused in the water and probably should have done more group swimming... but I just hate it so much

Overall the best year of my life in triathlon (and outside) with loads of room to get better.

In other cool news: I listen to this triathlon podcast called IM talk. I am a huge follower of it and listen almost every week. I nearly fell out of my chair when I heard that they had given me a shout out for the HITS win. Check it out below... It's pretty funny and made me really happy.

Lookin for fun and feelin' groovy

Hey all,

I'm a week removed from my last race. I have been content in not talking or thinking about triathlon, which is a huge rarity for me. This last race allowed for a level of closure that I haven't experienced before. I am not over analyzing every detail and don't feel that overwhelming annoyance at small mistakes made during the race.... although I am aware of all of them.... EVERY one. I am not obsessing over them, which is definitely abnormal.

It was truly a race with no pressure.

Despite not thinking about triathlon, I have been thinking about the finish line a lot because it was a huge relief. HITS put out a video of my finish line "experience". They edited out a lot of stuff, for which I am grateful. In the future, I'll have to act like I've been there before. Clearly I havn't. Embarrassing.

Enjoy.

Duh, Winning.

My first Ironman win!!!

Wow… the headline sounds cooler than it is, but it’s still pretty cool. Wonders of shock journalism.

First off, the disclaimer: it was a tiny race so it's really not that big of a deal, except to me. I was pretty jazzed because I don't win very often and this was a full Ironman!

Caitlin and I talked about winning the race the day before and I was having visions of snapping the tape before I had even started. How ‘bout I Tarantino it and start at the end?

The sun was slowly going down as I hit the turn into the final 200 meters. The race staff, volunteers, and crowd were all lining the finishing chute and screaming. I was jumping out of my skin. Arms spread wide, I airplaned down the final meters, high fiving everyone, and laughing my ass off. Holding the finish line tape above my head was incredible. They had multiple cameras trained on me and I went nuts grabbing the camera and shoving my face in it, spitting everywhere. After the celebration they gave me a slick trophy and the race director interviewed me. It felt pretty nice. I love winning.

FADE OUT!

7 am the whistle sounded and we were off. The water was colder than an abandoned piece of salmon at the bottom of your freezer. I was swimming well and came around the first loop in third feeling relaxed. The second half of the swim was tough as my arms were going a bit numb and felt sort of floppy. Michigan blood served me well and I sucked it up. I managed to stick with the group and I exited the water to see my buddies Christina and Larry. Larry won the Olympic distance race the day before, so we were hoping I could handle business and complete the double for us. Caitlin yelled that I was out in 51:50! 51:50???! Come on. Talk about short. I swam well, but I’m not Michael Phelps.

Off onto the bike and feeling good.

Ballin

The wind was calm and I was focused on getting the first loop done as fast as possible to avoid as much of the wind as I could. As a result, I overbiked a bit and set off on the second loop feeling a little drained. The roads were shit shakers to say the least and each pothole was very leg draining. The wind had picked up and my speed had dropped considerably. Very annoying, however at mile 80 I got to survey the damage and found out I had laid waste to the field. I was clear of second by at least 35 minutes.

It doesn't even look like I'm at a race does it?

I rolled into transition feeling rotten and annoyed that I had to run. I waddled out of transition and up the first and only hill on the course. I settled into my rhythm. I needed to get food on board as soon as possible. Being an inaugural ironman, the aid stations lacked some of the luxuries and volunteer support that the larger races enjoy. Weird gels and incredibly high fiber bars are not a good recipe for long distance racing but not having coke felt like sticking a needle in my eye. That stuff may not be for everyone, but it's my lifeblood. Hollatcha boy, Coke. I took what I could and was ticking off miles at a pretty low heart rate.

Mile 8-14 were a debacle. My gut had completely revolted and the chicken broth and syrupy goop were acting as Che Guevara. I will spare you the details outside of the fact that I got very acquainted with the various port-a-potties along the way. At mile 14, I lectured a volunteer about getting coke the next time they do a race... within a half mile, a race staffer poured me three cups out of the back of his SUV. He then proceeded to stock multiple aid stations that I would lean on like a delicious highly caffeinated crutch. I came around after the coke kicked in and started feeling lucid again.

I finally saw second place. I was at mile 17 and he was at mile 11 and seemed like he was in a tough spot. The next guy was another 2 miles back, but running quite well. I had them covered as long as I kept moving. I kept thinking, “Don’t waste Caitlin’s time. She’s been out here running around for you for hours. Just win and then you can go home and sleep. Don't lose after you've been leading for 8 hours.”

I knew the course was a touch long as I was doing the mental math. Dammit. When you're racing an ironman, the last thing you want to do is run extra. Time doesn’t matter anymore, just win and run fast. I covered the last 12 miles at slightly above 7:30 pace and rolled into the last half mile as the sun was setting. The finish line was better than I could have imagined. After snapping the tape, I looked over at Cait who was grinning like a goblin. It could not have played out better if I had written it.

Caitlin was a COMPLETE LEGEND and saw me at least 50 times on the course. No joke. She got me through some really dark spots. Cliche, but seriously I could not have done it without her.

Great end to a great year. Thanks to everyone who supported me through the year, thanks to evotri, the great sponsors who keep us moving, my friends and family, and Caitlin who is the absolute best.

I love you guys.

In the beginning

One of my friends asked me how I got into triathlon and it got me thinking. So here it is...

I was a late bloomer of the latest degree. In fact, at 26 I am just now figuring out exactly how to shave and I get carded like I'm Justin Bieber begging for margaritas at an Applebees. My golden years of athletics were elementary school. But damn, they were good. I was dominant at soccer, the mile run, and just about everything you could imagine... I was like the Michael Jordan of North Creek Elementary. But it couldn't last. The testosterone of an 8 year old can't compete in modern high schools and I was left in the dust. But I simply couldn't let sports go. I bounced around from tennis, to golf, to soccer, searching for dominance but the well had run dry. I was pissed and turned to candy as my escape from my sporting woes. I ate more candy than you could possibly imagine. I regularly scarred my taste buds with the strongest candies. Altoids and warheads were consumed by the gross. 20 dollars worth of candy in one sitting was a Saturday morning routine. Turns out I have an addictive personality. Chubbiness soon followed. Meanwhile, my little sister was completely ruining the state at cross country. She was a scrawny little baby and was making everyone look stupid at these races. She was also getting faster than me...

As any prideful big brother would do, I took up running. I ran in the dark because I was completely ashamed of both my blubber and my waddling speed. Seriously. I kept running at night and soon I was enjoying it. I ran for two years and still sucked at soccer, but I was starting to do ok at the practices where we ran.

I decided to forget about soccer and see if my sister's mojo would rub off on me. I joined to cross team. I got so excited and I was running pretty well in the summer. I put in a huge running summer for me and totaled 500 miles in something like 2.5 months which was astronomical compared with my usual running.

I ran well in one meet and then overtrained myself and was completely mediocre. But I had gotten just slightly faster than my sister and I had found something that I liked.

Then came the fateful day. My friend Jessie and I were sitting at her computer talking about Michigan State and surfing around on the internet. She found this thing called triathlon and taunted me saying, "I bet you can't do this". Bullshit. I would at least try.

I figured it would at least be a good way of meeting people and so I went to the first practice of the MSU triathlon club. It was then that I discovered I could ride a bike pretty well and I hit puberty. The perfect storm. I had found my sport.