Realism & Goals

I had such lofty goals when I started this journey in 2010.

I was going to be an Ironman. Everything I did was focused on that goal. Being an Ironman, and being one as quickly as possible.

I raced through 2011, and though I had my issues I pushed ever forward to sign up for my first 70.3 race in 2012. Florida Ironman 70.3 in Haines City. Huge issue in the swim, a slow bike, and a brutal run … but I finished.

So I signed up for another one. Ironman Augusta 70.3. Slow swim, awful bike, brutal run. But I finished.

See a pattern emerging?

So in 2013, I signed up for two more; a HITS in Ocala and Augusta again.

Slow swims, awful bikes, brutal runs.

But I finished.

2014 became the “Year of the Ironman”. I waited by my computer, constantly tapping the refresh key for the entry opening, and got into Ironman Chattanooga.

Then reality set in. Jennifer moved to Ocala, so I lost my daily training partner, and to top it off my body started rebelling. In April 2014 I found out that I had psoriatic arthritis, which was causing my body to inflame at the slightest provocation, in addition to degeneration of joints in both wrists, both feet and ankles, and the L5-S1.

But I did not drop out of the race.

I kept pushing through the summer, feeling hurt all the time, taking days to recover even from medium length workouts, and test races getting slower and slower. Instead of improving I was getting worse.

I finally called the race in July. My first intention was to downgrade to Ironman Austin 70.3, but even that was not going to happen with the way my training was going, and the way the weight I had lost was now creeping back up.

So, as I approached 2015 the plan was to reboot the process. Return to sprints until I could get a handle on the health and body issues. I told myself that maybe long distances was not for me. Maybe I was more suited to sprints, with an occasional Olympic thrown in to test every once in a while.

But there is still a nagging feeling in my brain, and in my soul.

I am now into 2019 and even though I have pulled back from 70.3 racing and the 140.6 distance, the dream of doing these is still present in me. Is setting a goal “age” a bad thing? I had stated in a post once that my target to move up to 70.3 distances again was a sprint in under 90 minutes (my fastest now is just over 2 hours) and my goal for the move to a 140.6 was a 70.3 in under 7 hours. I think that is still a reasonable goal, but my body is still hanging on to weight and my times are not improving (though my overall recovery seems to be getting better).

Is a 140.6 in my 60th year a reasonable goal? I will turn 56 in September, so that is a 14-year journey from start to finish. Is that too far away to be realistic?

Some reading this will question why I still feel the need to get this race done. I don’t know the answer to that. I don’t especially enjoy road running (though running on trails is a whole different matter), or even biking, long drawn out distances, and the motivation to train alone is still not there, so why am I still clinging to these lofty dreams of finishing races that seem so far out of reach?

Maybe the thought of stopping is just too scary?

There is a part of me that is drawn to goals that seem out of reach, even if the motivation, and the wherewithal, to do these things are not there.

I see someone running an ultra race of 100 miles and I want to do that.

I read about Scott Jurek running the Appalachian Trail and I want to do that.

I watch as someone runs the Sahara desert and I want to do that.

Is it a bad thing to set a goal that is not a realistic one, or is it better to set goals that one can reasonable obtain?

Watching the debates back in 2016 (not a political statement … I watch ALL debates so I can make an informed decision not based on party) and one question put to a candidate started along the lines of “you promised to create 250,000 jobs but you only created 125,000 …. ” and the answer was that he believes in setting the bar high instead of setting them to be easy. I think I agree with that, but the problem arises when others see this goal as a failure. The person posing the question obviously framed it as a failure to create 125,000 jobs, and not focused on the 125,000 he did create. The same happened to another candidate when it was posed to them that the state they are from is so many millions in deficit, blah blah blah, and their answer was “you should have seen it when I got there. Yes, we are 12 million in the red now but we were 600 million in the red when I took office”.

It is framed as a failure when in fact it is a success.

I have wavered lately on being a bit down on myself. It is frustrating to only be able to muster a 14 mph pace on the bike when two-three years ago my normal pace was 18 mph. But the thing is that a year ago I could only get to 12 mph. In fact, I have improved. I can frame it as a success instead of framing it as a failure.

Swimming is another issue recently. I have started swimming with a Masters Group after much pushing from a few people and got over my … not fear but hesitance to look foolish. I have been swimming a while now but have never really gotten over the anxiety and the discomfort in my head. Swimming three days a week has alleviated some of that but I was still talking the other day about how I still was “the slowest person there”. I was doing it again. In January I was doing a full workout of 1,700 yards at a 100 pace of 2:36. Those recent Saturday my workout was 4,000 yards at a pace of 1:48. But again, not seeing the improvement, I still focused on my ability in relation to all of the others there.

Bad John!

The fact is that you get better after each event, after each session, in some way. My pace may be slower, but my recovery has gotten better. I may be doing shorter distances but two years ago, even though my average pace was 18 mph I could not have climbed Sugarloaf Mountain on a bike or swam 4,000 yards.

Today I can.

I have gotten better.

So, I will keep my goal of Ironman, and set it for when I am 60.

Seems a good year.

A pivotal year.

See you in 2023.

The New Version

Halfway through 2019 and looking ahead to 2020 I am still trying to get a handle on the changes I have been experiencing in health and wellness. I have learned over the last 9+ years that this might well entail exploring training and nutrition that continues to challenge conventional wisdom.

What??? John wants to challenge Conventional Wisdom??? How unlike him!!!

Challenging CW, the tried and true methods clung to by most athletes and then TALKING ABOUT IT on social media can lead to a lot of heated discussions. Challenging someone’s perspectives or beliefs, like “you do not require sugar to complete a marathon”, is taken as a personal attack.

I believe that all runners and triathletes secretly own stock in either GU, Hammer Gel, or both.

Bottom line is that it IS possible to remove sugar from your diet and training and perform perfectly fine.

Does sugar help? Yep, it does. Is it required? Nope, it’s not.

Throwing sugar into your system is like stoking a fire using pine needles. It will burn, and it will burn hot, but it will also burn quickly, requiring more pine needles, almost a constant supply, to keep it lit.

Personally, I do not like how sugar makes me feel, even in small quantities, but especially in large amounts over 5 to 7 hours. I have known other athletes who have GI issues who take in sugar and then complain about their GI issues, but for some reason, they continue to do it. I just don’t understand that. I would rather learn how to go long distances without requiring enough sugar intake to become the lead character in Alice Cooper’s “Unfinished Sweet”.

Google it … you know you want to …

And … let’s be honest here for a moment. Most people are not doing sugar because they NEED sugar. They are doing it because they WANT sugar. There are plenty of studies showing fat adaption works and you can reduce if not eliminate your sugar intake, yet people still stuff ten GU packs into their bike jerseys before 30-mile rides. Why? Because they like sugar, and they are NOT giving it up.

So many methods have been shown to not work, and in some cases actually, hinder training and races. Carb loading doesn’t work but races still offer pasta dinners the night before. Ice Baths has been shown to hinder muscle growth and adaption but people are still sitting in 40-degree water. I really don’t care either way, but let’s stop bullshitting each other about the real reason you do these things.

My focus in 2019 is to “be different”. And different for the better.

As with most things in my training, it will depend greatly on my body and how it handles the stress of training. I have no idea what havoc lays ahead, but I know the foot issue that has been plaguing me for years has subsided and the weight is on a downward trend again, especially in the past week. I have also started to understand that GOALS are really not the point. I need to focus on the SYSTEM. By getting the system locked down, the goals will happen on their own.

This is yet another reinvention. John 2.0 circa 2019.

The Wisdom of A Clockwork Orange

“Welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, welly, well. To what do I owe the extreme pleasure of this surprising visit?”

As I am working through motivation issues, remembrances of lines from my favorite movie keep popping up in my head (some of you know I have done this before with “Fight Club” and “Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy“). The mere fact that “A Clockwork Orange” is my all time favorite movie tells you more about my psyche than you really want to know and should probably warn you against posts like this, but you’re triathletes (for the most part), and I know you will power through this, and hopefully not emerge on the other side questioning whether or not you ought to be associating with me. 🙂

“Come with Uncle,” I said, “and hear all proper. Hear angel trumpets and devil trombones. You. Are. invited.”

All of the issues you have during training; the injuries, the self-doubt, the lack of motivation, all seems to vanish on the morning of the race. Are you anxious? Oh yeah. Butterflies? Definitely. But when the horn sounds, the racer in you kicks in and by two or three strokes into the swim you are in race mode. Pain is not there anymore. Will you have issues during the race? Of course. But unless it’s a serious injury, like a broken limb, or a mechanical issue that can’t be fixed, you’re going to soldier on. Because you’re a triathlete. A different breed of person. You’re not a runner. You’re not a cyclist. You’re not a swimmer. You’re all three. I have seen people carrying their bikes to finish the leg. You will finish if you have to crawl or they pull you from the course.

“Let’s get things nice and sparkling clear. This sarcasm – if I may call it such, is very unbecoming of you, oh my brothers”

Detractors and naysayers abound. There will be people telling you that you’re crazy to be doing this stuff. “Why?” the will ask you, “Are you subjecting yourself to this daily regimen”. You’d answer, but you really don’t know the answer.

“Because,” you squeak out, “I have to.” It’s really the best answer you can offer.

The saddest part of this is the loudest naysayers are the ones closest to you. Your family. Your longtime friends. They have become accustomed to you being fat, being slovenly, being lazy. They like you in this way. Anything outside of THIER comfort zone unnerves them. “You’re neglecting your family” they will say. “How are you spending any quality time with your kids?” others will chime in. My answer to them is simple. When I woke up on May 17, 2010, and stepped on the scale and saw it pass 300 pounds, the first thing in my head, the FIRST thing, was my family.

“I am going to drop dead by the time I am 50,” was my first thought. “What are they going to do if I am gone?” was my second. “What kind of example am I setting for my (then) 15-year-old son??”.

It may seem to outsiders that I am being selfish and only doing it for me, and while it is true I do a lot of it for me, the motivation at the beginning was to take care of myself so that I could be here 30 years from now to see my grandchildren.

If that is “being selfish”, well, then I am I guess. But seriously, I think being a fat, lazy slob that dies at 50 because they couldn’t do without the piece of cheesecake is the selfish one. He is now gone.

“Have you some new torture for me, you bratchny?” “Well, well, well, well. If it isn’t fat, stinking billygoat Billy-Boy in poison. How art thou, thy globby bottle of cheap, stinking chip-oil? Come and get one in the yarbles, if you have any yarbles, you eunuch jelly thou.”

Don’t you just love coaches?

The good ones have a way of both building up your confidence and tear you to pieces at the very same time. It’s kind of fun to witness (though a lot more fun to watch than to have it happen to you). It’s always fun to get that Sunday evening email with the weekly schedule. The first reaction is always “OH MY GOD DOES SHE THINK I AM SUPERMAN???” which usually leads to an email from me.

Her answer?

“Just give it a try. If you can’t do it all, do what you can. Adjust it accordingly. You’ll be fine.”

And, of course, I always am fine. I can always do what she wrote down for me. She knows more about my ability than I do and has shown a unique ability to see through my bullshit from time to time and call me on it.

Having a good training partner is paramount to this, and in this area I am lucky. My past partner, Jennifer, was always ready to go, always will try the new thing (unless it is about weight training or eliminating Splenda from the diet). She pushed me when I couldn’t push myself, and I hope I did the same for her. I have also had others motivate and influence me, some in ways they are not even aware, some by pissing me off because they keep beating me, some because they run so effortlessly, at least to me, some because the bike or swim like demons, some because I know their struggles and they are still out there, and some because they are just friendly people and fun to be around. They all contribute in some way, and I am happy to have met them all over the past 9 years.

“What we were after now was the old surprise visit. That was a real kick and good for laughs and lashings of the old ultraviolence.”

Along with the coaching are the online forums that we all dutifully enter every aspect of our training. Garmin Connect, Daily Mile, Twitter, FaceBook, MyFitnessPal, Training Peaks, Strava, Swim.com, Apple Health. The people in these forums will keep you on your toes. Miss logging a few days? Oh, you can expect a note from SOMEONE calling you on it. I got a response from a blog post once stating “…I have noticed your bike totals have gone down since the 70.3…”

What?? Someone is paying attention????

They called me on it, and they were right, and it motivates you to get off your ass and get back on the damn bike!!

I appreciate this kind of “kick in the yarbles”. Being held accountable is what works. It’s why being part of a team works. You’re just not out there for you, you’re a part of a group, a team, that has a like-minded goal, and they depend on you to be there, and be ready. Nothing motivates more than that team mentality.

“It’s funny how the colors of the real world only seem really real when you viddy them on the screen.”

So there it is – my Triathlon version of A Clockwork Orange. Much like Alex felt when being made to watch violence at the same time as he was being made sick, the end result is that you are who you are, and you will adapt to accept any changes made to you in order to meet the true inner self.

I have been struggling recently with motivation. But what I need to find, and will find, was that burning desire to NOT be who I was becoming and find somewhere inside that 300-pound frame the younger man that I was. I wasted a good bit of my life in pursuits of things I had no business pursuing, and I have paid for them both mentally and physically. I hope that this change in my life the past 9 years did not come too late. My brother Michael said something to me once and it sticks in my head every day, especially when I start doubting and thinking I should just give up. We were talking one day about health, and the fact that we have both survived cancer scares (his was testicular, mine was thyroid) and why he has the hobbies and interests he has.

He said “Johnny, I may die tomorrow, or next year, or in ten years, but when I die I don’t want it to be by something I could have prevented.”

At times, my brother can be a very wise man.

Endurance Hydration

I have been talking on the show a lot lately about a couple of things; one (of course) is the never-ending saga of my inability to shed the weight I carry, and the next has been my issue with the second half of my racing, notably the way I feel after the bike portion of a triathlon or duathlon. Running off the bike is always a tough thing to get used to, but my issues go way beyond tough. It has been difficult to explain it to people how it feels but suffice it to say that there is just no energy in my legs. At all. I have tried to “power through it”, thinking that if I force myself to RUN it will clear out and the body will kick in. It doesn’t work. I try very hard to get my legs moving and they Just … Won’t … Go.

In prepping for the podcast I have been reading up on hydration (1), the effects of dehydration, and training and may be hitting on some things. The first being that I am nowhere near drinking the amount of fluid they are prescribing in the material I am reading. Not even in the ballpark.

I have done in the past the normal testing to check my sweat loss, and it normally comes out to about 41.3 ounces in half an hour (actually 35 minutes). This is come to by this formula (done about two weeks ago on a 2.2-mile run):

  • Starting weight of 277.0 – End weight of 275.4 = loss of 1.6 pounds
  • 1.6 pounds x 15 ounces (per pound) = 24 ounces of fluid loss + 0 fluid intake = 24 total ounces
  • 24 ounces / 35 minutes total time (or .58) = 41 ounces

Let me be crystal here … I took in NOTHING

And this was a short training run … so I went back and looked at my last duathlon in 2016

I drank 24 ounces of water mixed with 2 scoops of UCAN on my 90-minute drive … and nothing more before the race started. I drank … NOTHING … during the 1-mile first leg. In T1 I took one sip of water and got on the bike. During the bike I drank 2 times from a 24-ounce bottle, so let’s call that 4 ounces (Gatorade Endurance). In T2 I took one more sip, grabbed a handheld water bottle (20 ounces) and started the second run (3.1 miles). During this run, I drank at each water station (about 2 ounces each time for a total of 4 ounces) and about half of the bottle.

So, for a race that took me 2:09:32, I took in a total of ~44 ounces …

I did not weigh before and after, and was probably, according to my HR, working at a much higher level than the training run. So that means, using the training as a guide, I was under hydrated by about 148 ounces (192 ounces required [48 ounces x 4] – 44 ounces taken in).

Maybe this is the reason the run is bonking? It would make some sense since the person I trained with did much better at these races and drinks all the time.

I can also used a recent Saturday run as an example. I was carrying the same bottle with me and drank maybe three times in 4.5 miles. Granted I was staying in Z2 the whole way, but I have a tendency to NOT drink enough, and this may be the underlying cause.

The other issue is daily, ongoing hydration. I always thought I was drinking enough water, but according to the reading, I am well under the requirement. It states that daily fluid requirements are 2.5 to 3 L a day, and to average 8 ounces each hour. Now, 8 ounces is nothing really is it? One or two gulps and it is gone, so would/should be pretty easy to handle. I do carry around water each day, or have access to it, but I am bad at actually drinking it.

(1) Sports Nutrition for Endurance Athletes by Monique Ryan

The Racing Equation

We cannot always be podium finishers, especially within the readership of this blog or listeners of the podcast. Yes, we do have a few that finish high in the standings at each race, but the majority of us are middle of the pack to the back of the pack people, so measuring our success or failures based solely on where we finish is not reasonable.

So, how DO we gauge or successes?

That’s a big question, isn’t it?

There are some, even among the back of the pack groups, that feel starting a race, or just completing a race, is not enough to label it a success, and there might be a few more reading this that agree on that issue.

I am not one of them.

In the world of endurance sports the method by which you can gauge your successes, at least in the beginning, should be based more on an internal measurement than an external one. What I mean to say is that your success should be based on what YOU are capable of and the manner and effort by which you train or race. Only YOU know the effort you have given correct?

Let’s be honest…

You know when you have not trained enough for a race or event. You also know when you have not given 100% of yourself during the race. You may not admit to it openly, but you know it in your head. Personally, I have no trouble admitting when I have not given my all. I am VERY self-aware in this area. This has normally been met with graciousness from people, but on occasion, it has been met with scorn. I can’t let that deter me. Everyone has detractors; someone that doesn’t see what they’re doing as healthy or useful.

So, the bottom line here is that when you are racing and training, the only person you should be competing against is yourself, your history, your previous best effort or time. That is ALL that matters in our world.

But IS there an equation? A Race Equation?

I think there is, and it was pointed out to me by a long time listener, reader, and friend, and occasional co-host.

DFL > DNF > DNS

There it is, plain and simple, but let’s break it down:

DFL = Dead F***G Last

I have been here many times, and though some think I am OK with it, I am NEVER OK with it. I accept it, especially if I know I have given everything I had at that moment, but no one likes being last. Being last sucks. It’s soul-draining. And it too easily becomes a habit.

DNF = Did Not Finish

Just a step below a DFL is the dreaded DNF. It means you toed the line, started with the pack, and then for whatever reason you were not able to finish the course. Most of the time this is due to a timed cut-off that you could not make, but there are times where you get injured, overheat, sick, etc. that also causes you to call it a day. Pulling yourself out of a race is a hard decision. It’s a fleeting thought on some days, but one you can push aside, except for that one day where the mind and/or the body just isn’t cooperating. When I started this in 2010 I took great pride in the fact that I had never had a DNF. Every race that I started I had finished. Then came Disney in 2014. A race I was not ready to run due to an injury, but one that I was determined to start. The balloon ladies caught me at mile 8.2 and I got on the bus and rode back to the start. I still was handed a medal, which I did not keep, and was deeply disappointed in myself, but I could live with it because I know I was not prepared and it was the result I had expected.

Which leads us to the final, and bottom, rung.

DNS = Did Not Start

Before I start on this one, let me be clear. There are MANY times that pulling out of an event is warranted. Injury, emergencies, etc. come to mind immediately. A DNS is a VERY hard decision. It’s not about the money you have already paid or the hours of training you have put in leading up to the event, but about the admission of defeat, and the knowledge that, for whatever reason, you could not even attempt it for fear of further injury. The decision to take a DNS is not one that is taken lightly. I have had a few, and they were never easy decisions. What amazed me most was in 2017 at Infinitus was my decision to NOT take a DNS and attempt the event knowing that due to injury and under training I had a serious chance of both not finishing AND getting further injured, and how a couple of people looked at that decision as a failure, telling me that I not have tried at all. I don’t get that mentality. I’ll be honest and say that the thought of not traveling and attempting that event was very close to becoming a DNS, but I went and tried, and had the result I thought I would. A DNS is a horrible thing to endure because it will weigh on your mind for a long time. In my case, two years because I am traveling back there in 4 months to try it again. Not the same distance, but I have to complete this race.

So remember, we all have goals and ambitions, but the race equation is different for all of us.

Be the Milk

I was reading, and by reading I mean listening to audible while driving, to the Stephen King collection called “Bazaar of Bad Dreams”. A collection of short stories, which I really enjoy from him, where he narrates the introduction to each one. I have always liked it when King takes a moment and describes what he was thinking, where the thought came from, etc. He always makes me think about why I don’t write things down more as they come to me. How many good ideas have been lost to the cosmos because I didn’t take a moment and scribble it down somewhere?

Anyway, before one particular story he began talking about how his mother had a saying for everything, and how one specific one always stood out;

Milk always takes on the flavor of what it’s next to in the icebox

This is something I have heard from my own parents and grandparents, so it automatically strikes a chord in me, but the inner meaning began to worm its way into my psyche as I drove home that night.

We, as athletes and coaches, are a lot like milk. We take on the flavor of what we are reading, who we are listening to, what people we are around while we train. It’s inevitable as humans to not have this happen.

The trick, as they say, is not to become the onion if you are the milk.

Now, what do I mean by that?

Humans are adaptable. We take on the cloak of what is around us in order to survive. Over millions of years, we evolved to meet the climates where our ancestors found themselves. What we, as athletes and coaches, need to do is adapt to the things we learn and the people we train with or coach.

The danger is taking on too much of the things around us so that we lose what is our own essence, and our own belief system. Most of us want to be liked, so we tend to become what we need to become in order to be accepted and liked by the people we are around. Joseph Campbell’s theory of Masks speaks to this in great detail. We assume the mask of what is accepted, but underneath we are the same person we have always been, and eventually, if we don’t tend to the real person, the mask cracks. This is how women end up married to abusive men when nothing, while they were dating, showed that he was abusive. Eventually the mask he was wearing cracks and the monster emerges.

The trick is, then, to assume what is around you, take it all in, but never lose or hide who you are as a coach or an athlete. No matter how many onions are sitting next to you in the icebox, never try to be an onion, because no matter how you taste, you are still at your core, milk.

As I am working through my coaching certification I was hit with things being taught that I knew I would eventually come across; nutrition and the belief still being held by most dietitians that an athlete’s daily food intake should be 60-75% carbs.

Big sigh as I read this, and I started to react, but then it became clear to me that it really didn’t matter what they were teaching. The lessons (and most of the coaches) are geared toward elite level athletes. Not overweight or obese clients. For them, this level of carb intake might be correct because they burn constantly. What I do know is that this type of eating will not work for overweight athletes trying to lose weight. I know this not only because of my own experience, but because of studies I have read, books on the subject, and people I have trained with over the years.

And it doesn’t matter …. it just doesn’t …

I will take in what they are teaching, answer the questions as they taught them in the final test, then throw it out once I attain my certification. As part of the venture, you are asked to develop your own coaching philosophy; are you an LLD type of guy, or maybe an LLDLD person? Do you believe carb loading works? Are you a paleo/wild diet/Asprey/Tortorich/Abel follower, or do you agree with Rich Roll? Some love Gatorade, while some prefer plain water.

All of these decisions make up who you are as a coach. I am still developing that, but I know that I want clients who are new to the sport, are overweight and feel they cannot lose it, who think that a triathlon, or a half marathon, is out of their reach. Clients that feel they are too old to start something new or have too many medical issues. These are my people.

I have met many people since becoming more of a presence online. I became a podcast host because I met Andrew Weaver through another show and then ventured off to do a spin-off of that show on my own. I have had arguments with people on those forums that I eventually ended up agreeing with, and I think I have had the same effect on some others. I have had to accept that no matter how much science you throw at people there are some that will always believe in carb loading, ice baths, and Greenfield followers who think bio-hacking is normal.

I have to accept that and just stay the course, but at the same time keep an open enough mind that might come to agree with some of them in the future.

That … I am still working on. 🙂

Jelly Roll

There are many good things about training. The first of them is the feeling of accomplishment at the end of a long ride, or finally being able to breathe in the water, or running under a 12:00 pace for a 5k. All accomplishments I have seen over the last 7 seasons, but along with these good things, there are usually corresponding not so good things.

I don’t say bad things because in the grand scheme they are not “bad”.

The first thing that pops to mind is the weight loss. Yes, I know … those that have read my stuff for a while have heard me bitch and moan about my inability to lose weight, or at least lose weight consistently (because going from 313 to 276 is a loss). The weight comes off, grudgingly, slowly, pound by pound, only to inch back up on occasion as if my body is telling me “don’t get too full of yourself, buddy, I control you still”.

But what I have noticed is a whole new issue.

When I was at my heaviest I took some pride (believe it or not … amazing how a person can find pride in negative things) in that my belly was not “flabby”. I carried all of my weight in my gut (not uncommon for a guy) but I still had decent muscle mass in chest and legs, so my midsection, though huge, was HARD. Tight as a drum. And here’s the thing … now that some of the weight has come off, the stomach has become flabby. And it is refusing to tighten up.

This is my body again saying:

“See? we will allow you to lose weight but we will keep this jelly roll on you so that you remember we were here!”

The body can be a real bastard.

So, anyway, on another point …

Throughout the years I have ridden three different road bikes (a borrowed LeMonde, a Scott Speedster, and now my Litespeed C1), a mountain bike (a refurbished Giant frame), and a Scott Plasma 20 TT bike (now sold to a new home). There are differences, and in the course of these years I have come up with a list for riding … lessons learned if you will. They are:

    • It is much easier to stand on a TT bike than a road bike. I am not sure why this is … maybe just the way your body sits on it.
    • If you plan on racing and riding in hills, invest in a compact crankset and an 11-28 cassette. Once I changed my Litespeed over it made a world of difference.
    • All bikes must be named and all names should show at least a little bit of creativity (i.e. naming a Bianchi “Bianchi” or a black bike “Blackie” is … boring). My bikes are/were: Scott Speedster was “Mario”. Litespeed C1 is “Buzz” (like Buzz Litespeed. OK, I thought it was funny). Scott Plasma 20 was “Gunner” and the Giant mountain bike is “Buster” because he busts my balls going over rough terrain and jumps.
    • It’s fun riding in aero going downhill (even if it’s a bit scary), though the control, or feeling of control, you have on a road bike makes it a bit less scary.
    • Love Bugs taste better than grasshoppers. This might just be a palate issue.
    • In that vein, learn to ride with mouth closed and breathe, Nuke Style, through my eyelids.
    • There is something deeply gratifying getting off the bike and having sweat drip off you like a river. This may be a Florida thing, but sweating like that is … manly.
    • Braking takes longer on a Tri Bike … adjust accordingly. Just trust me on that one.

So … things are coming along. So many people helping me, from Team in Training Alumni’s to Meghan Collins-Fanning, to Facebook followers, and to listeners of the podcast. They have been awesome, and when the motivations wane, as it tends to do, they are the ones that pull you out and push you to the next level. This has been an awesome adventure so far.

I just wish I had started sooner.