Mad Men

 “Advertising is based on one thing, happiness. And you know what happiness is? Happiness is the smell of a new car. It's freedom from fear. It's a billboard on the side of the road that screams reassurance that whatever you are doing is okay. You are okay.”  –Don Draper, Mad Men 

My wife and I have been watching the AMC series “Mad Men” for a while now (we watch it at our own pace on DVD and are only on Season 2, so please, no spoilers!).  For those of you unfamiliar with the show, it centers around a Madison Avenue advertising agency in the late 50s/early 60s, the schemes employed by them to create ads, and the lifestyles of the various characters.  The show is quite entertaining.  One of its funnier aspects (even though they tend to overdo it) is how the writers portray things that were  supposedly commonplace in America in the early 1960s, but that today we would all view as absurd.  For example, drinking hard liquor all day at the office, not wearing a seat belt, the way women are portrayed both in the office and at home, and in every scene almost every character is smoking (including a scene with a pregnant woman presumably very close to her due date having a cocktail and puffing away at a cigarette!).  There was even a scene with the main character and his family having a picnic in a very nice park.  As they were leaving, he throws his empty beer can in the woods, and his wife simply picks up their blanket, shakes off all of their trash (napkins, cans, etc.) and walks away.

I’ve always assumed that the writers are intentionally over the top with their portrayal of just how “stupid” everyone was in the early 60s.  I wasn’t around in the 60s, so I don’t really know, but I doubt we've gotten that much smarter in the past 50 years.  Most of the time I watch and think, “This must be a gross exaggeration.  It couldn’t have been that bad! No one would be that stupid!” 

But then I started thinking of the things that we did just a few years ago (and that a lot of people still do today), and I wondered:  What would a show about endurance sports in the late 00s/early 10s look like forty years from now?  People eating eggs but only after removing the yolk, which happens to be the most nutritious part; eating a gel just before a run because they think they need those extra carbs to make it through their 40 minute workout; adding more and more cushioning to their shoes and getting more and more injured in the process . . . ; the list goes on.

I bring up those three specific examples because, like a lot of you, I fell victim to the false thinking that led to those mistakes.  Mistakes that, looking back, I cannot believe I was stupid enough to make!  What was I thinking!?  I will touch on the nutritional examples in a later post.  Today, I want to discuss shoes. 

I’ve been reading “Born to Run” by Christopher McDougall.  It’s a GREAT book—well written, entertaining, and very informative (Thanks, Ryan!).  If you are a runner, PLEASE (!) drop what you are doing, go to the nearest bookstore, and read Chapter 25 (then you can buy it and read the rest later).  Don’t worry; it will not spoil anything from the previous 24 chapters.  But it will explain some of the problems with running shoes today.

Honestly, it made me angry.  Angry that I spent years running in products that were most likely the very cause of my running injuries.  Angry that I spent thousands of dollars over those years searching for the answer and trusting that the “experts” knew what they were talking about.  Angry that I assumed that those same experts were looking after my best interests.  But mostly, Angry at the Mad Men who came up with these products and swore to me that I would injure myself without them; swore to me that I needed to replace them as soon as the cushioning wore down; swore to me that the more I spent, the more protected I would be; and all along the Mad Men were reading study after study telling them they were wrong on all accounts.

I trusted companies that made money when I bought their shoes, when they told me that I would injure myself if I didn’t buy their most expensive shoes at least every three months.  They never cured my injuries.  But I kept buying.  I cannot believe I actually fell for this.  I thought I was smarter than that.

Thinking back on it, I am in disbelief that I fell into their trap.  All I can think is, “This must be a gross exaggeration.  It couldn’t have been that bad!  No one would be that stupid!”

Fortunately, I now know better.  I've learned from experience, not from a book and not from a shoe salesman.

Consider this: If you put your leg in a cast, the muscles will atrophy and become weak.  Shoe companies have been selling us casts for our feet and telling us that it was a design flaw in our feet that made their products necessary.  The weaker it got, the thicker they made the casts.  We bought it.  And the more we bought it, the more we got injured.

Regardless of your beliefs in God vs. Mother Nature, the human foot is a brilliant work of structural integrity.   When will we stop arrogantly assuming that we can outsmart our creator?

“The deviation of man from the state in which he was originally placed by nature seems to have proved to him a prolific source of diseases.”  –Edward Jenner

Final Race of the Year - 70.3 World Championships

This Saturday is the last race of the year for me. The one that I have had on the calendar for more than a year now. Although work threw a wrench into my training this past month, I still feel as ready as I ever have for a half Ironman. And I better be! The competition at this race is going to be unlike any I have ever faced. A PR is not going to be good enough to crack the top third in my age group. I'm finally racing with the big dogs. Does that make me a big dog? Because for some reason, I don't quite feel like one yet.

Ryan (who will be making the trip to Clearwater to watch!) told me before Coeur d'Alene this year to "Race like you belong, because you do." I made the mistake of not truly believing that last June when I had all the problems at Coeur d'Alene. I'm still not fully convinced. Sometimes the only way to truly believe that you belong with the big dogs is to get out there and run with them. That way you at least find out one way or the other. And that's what I'm going to do.

You can watch the coverage of the race at here. Just find the Ironman 70.3 World Championships, click on "athlete tracker," and you can follow me throughout the morning (I apologize for not having a link directly to it, but it wasn't up when I wrote this. It should be easy to find on Saturday.).

Thank you to everyone for their support this year. I will post a full report when I get back to Texas next week.

We Don't Get to Pick Our Bad Days

Sunday will be seven weeks since I finished my third Ironman--Ironman Coeur d'Alene. It will be seven weeks since I had the worst swim I've ever had in an Ironman. Seven weeks since I spent 20+ miles unable to shift into the big chainring. Seven weeks since 96 miles into the race my crank came off my bike while going 22 mph, which then caused me to break my aerobars and somehow avoid having the worst crash of my life. Seven weeks since I sat at the side of the road waiting on a mechanic to come make my bike ridable again. Seven weeks since I secretly hoped it couldn't be fixed so that I would have an excuse to quit. Seven weeks since the first time I've taken longer than 4 hours to run 26.2 miles (only one minute longer, but still, longer). Seven weeks since I decided that, for me, the reward of just finishing is not worth the sacrifice it takes to get there.

See, I've "just finished" three Ironmans, three years in a row. I'm tired of "just finishing." I keep telling myself (mainly because Lindsay keeps telling me) that it was only one bad day. And we don't get to pick our bad days. But when our bad day happens to fall on the most important racing day of the past three years, that does something to your confidence. Before I even finished the bike leg, I started wondering what all of this is worth. In order to race (and I mean, RACE, not finish) an Ironman you have to make incredible sacrifices to your other goals. I'm not talking about the sacrifices of everyday life that it takes just to compete in an Ironman. I'm talking about all of my athletic goals.

For example, I've never run the Boston Marathon. I've never done as much cycling road racing as I'd like to do. I've never made a 70.3 race an A-race. In fact, in the past three years, no race other than an Ironman has been an A-race. 70.3s are my favorite distance. But I've never focused on doing one right. Ironman makes you slower at everything. You can still be relatively fast. But you will never be as fast as you could be as long as your focus is on the Ironman distance. So for me, the rest of this year, and at least the first half of next year, is focused on getting faster.

The rest of this year is totally dedicated to the Ironman 70.3 World Championships in November. I have no goals of winning or qualifying for anything. I just want to see how fast I can go. Lindsay and I will figure out a more specific time goal over the next couple of months. But for now, we're just focusing on making me fast.

Ironically enough, I leave for Boulder today for the 5430 Long Course Race, which was my "bad day" last year. Ryan is racing again, so I'm eager to see his progression. And my goal is to just have fun and gain back my confidence. No time goals, and no goals that can be affected by anything that is out of my control. My goal is simply to PASS. If I have fun and enjoy the day, then I PASS. If I get frustrated, angry, pouty, upset, etc., then I FAIL. Either way, it will be a good training day and a good time with a very good friend. Once I get back to Dallas, it's time to get busy getting fast.

I may still do an Ironman next year. But if so, I'm going back to Arizona in November. No Spring Ironman next year. That will give me lots of time to focus on speed before we start the long haul back to Arizona. And it will allow me to concentrate on that other race that I've been putting off for way too long . . . the Boston Marathon. Anybody want to meet up in Boston?

Ryan's First Race; My First DNF

Well, I’ve delayed writing about this long enough. Yes, I DNF’d (i.e., “Did Not Finish”) in Boulder last weekend. This was the first time I have ever dropped out of a race. It was heartbreaking. I felt much better on the bike than I expected to since I had been sick for so long leading up to this race. The first 8 miles of the bike course are the hardest. It’s mostly uphill, and you feel like you should be going much faster than you are. I know that about this course, so I was telling myself to back off the entire time. I was feeling very relaxed, the pace was effortless, I was averaging well over 20mph and getting ready to pick that WAY up, when all of a sudden PSHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! And my back tire was flat. I don’t carry a spare tire (I race on tubulars so just a tube isn’t enough — you need another tire when you have a flat) in anything shorter than an Ironman. So my day was done. Almost.

This bothered me a lot more than I expected it to. I think the culmination of all the “bad races” I’ve had this year are starting to drag on me. I keep thinking all it will take is one good race to get me back on track for the season. As good as I was feeling on the bike, I thought that could have been the day that it all came together. But it wasn’t meant to be. Instead of flying into T2 and running my legs off, I rode on the back of a motorcycle holding onto my bike with one arm and the driver with the other (not an easy feat with a disc wheel dragging behind us like a sail!), and standing around waiting on Ryan to finish the bike course. When he came through, I still had my race number, so I ran with him.

Ryan did AWESOME in his first triathlon! 5:14 and change is solid for anyone doing a half Ironman, much less someone doing their FIRST half-Ironman! And this was his first TRIATHLON! I’ll let him tell you more about it. I decided with a few miles to go that I would bust out the last several on my own. Ryan was struggling, so I stayed with him until mile 11 and then ran under 6:30 pace to the finish. That felt great considering I had been on my feet all day with little to eat. Makes me wonder what could have been . . . .

Still, overall, it was a good day. Disappointing in one respect, but I wouldn’t trade the experience of running with Ryan during his first race. I will have many other opportunities to race well in a half-ironman. I will never get another chance to run with Ryan during his first race. Call it a silver lining or a blessing in disguise, but I will always cherish that flat tire. I always knew that he would be good at this. It just took me 4 years to convince him to try it. I think he’s hooked! Welcome to the club, Ry!

Krisha and I (and my parents and John) are heading to Arkansas this weekend for the Arkansas State Championships. It’s a sprint distance race, and I plan on making up for last weekend. Regardless of the outcome, anytime I get to race with my wife and my 62 year-old dad, it’s a good day!

Another Trip to Boulder

Heading back to Boulder this weekend for the 5430 Long Course Triathlon. It's a half ironman event that, unfortunately, I am not ready for. Well, I'm not as ready as I would like to be. But am I ever? I tend to complain before every race that I wish I had a little more time. This time, though, I think my concern is justified. I haven't been able to train well for the past two weeks. Ever since the giardia/flagyl war, I haven't been the same. I had another episode this week, which I think was due to the flagyl causing me to be lactose intolerant for the time being. I hope that goes away. I love me some lactose! But I'm not going to test it until after this race! I can't afford any more episodes like Monday.

After missing a bunch of training days, I did get out on the bike Wednesday. I opened it up a little to see how my stomach would react. Good news! No problems. I was amazed at how strong my legs felt and how high my power was, even though it was only an hour. I guess that's what happens when you recover! Honestly, I don't remember my legs feeling this fresh in months! Then I ran today, and again, I felt really strong. It's more likely that I'm just rested and will tire out and slow way down during the 4-5 hour effort on Sunday. But we'll see.

That's about all I've got this week. Training hasn't been great. Racing long on Sunday. My very close friend Ryan will be racing as well. It's his first triathlon! My first triathlon was an Olympic distance race, so I guess he had to one up me and go for a half-ironman! Instead of writing about his training and how he's doing, I'll just let him tell you. You can read his thoughts this week on the race, here. My favorite line: "When my body is exercised and challenged, my energy is high, my mind is sharp, and my spirit is strong."

Well put, Ryno! You're going to do great! See you tomorrow.

The Battle of My Left and Right Brains

Yes, I have two brains. Neither of them work properly all of the time, but between them and me, we seem to manage ok. Here is my report from the Triple Bypass. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed the ride!

After (finally) finding a place to park, Ryan and I clipped in at about 6:40. The climbing started at about 6:41. The first climb is up to Squaw Pass, which tops out at 11,140 feet. It was gorgeous and not too tough (probably because it was the first climb!). We pretty much rode steady up to the first aid station, which is at the top of the climb. It was cold at the top so I put on my arm warmers for the fast ride back down the other side of the mountain. I was basically wearing the same clothing I would wear on a 100 degree day in Hades, er . . . Texas, plus some thin arm warmers. No big deal, right? Wrong. It turns out, when you are traveling on two very thin wheels at speeds of over 40 miles an hour, it's a good idea to be warm! Just try staying on your bike traveling that fast down a mountain without the ability to keep your front wheel from wobbling because you are shivering so much. The ironic part is that shivering is your brain’s way of keeping you warm so that you don’t go into hypothermia. But when choosing between 40mph worth of road rash (not to mention broken bones . . . even though I just did) and the risk of hypothermia, I choose the risk of hypothermia almost every time (especially since I was in no real danger of hypothermia!). My logical, know-it-all, dorky, left brain was eventually able to convince my touchy feely, over-reacting, hippie, risk-taking (and very cold), right brain that keeping the bike upright was more important, and the shivering in my arms stopped. One down. Two to go.

After a jaunt through Idaho Springs, we started the climb up to Loveland Pass (11,990 feet). The only really bad part of the entire course was when we actually had to get on I-70 and battle the semis. It wasn’t too long though, and eventually, we made it to an aid station 4 miles from the top of Loveland Pass. I knew this would be the steepest part of the day, so we fueled up on turkey sandwiches, peanut butter and jelly, watermelon, and Cliff Blocks before heading up the last part of the climb. We guessed that it would take around 40 minutes. I felt really good coming out of that aid station (I’m sure it was the Wonder Bread and processed turkey!), so I decided to go for it. At one point I heard someone tell his riding partner (a very strong female) to “get on his wheel” (talking about me), so there was no way I was slowing down after that (both my brains are prideful!). I pulled those two for a while, and ended up ticking off all four miles in 26 minutes (14 minutes faster than my guess). That’s where we stopped for the above picture.

Knowing that my right brain is not a fast learner, I bundled up for the ride down this time (arm warmers, leg warmers, and my rain jacket). While bundling, I felt like the back of my head was going to explode! I got dizzy, and for a minute wondered if I would vomit right over the side of the mountain. Apparently, neither of my brains like working that hard at 12,000 feet since they live about 6 feet above sea level. They settled down and I felt much better about half way down the mountain, and no shivering! Two down. One to go.

After the descent we went around Lake Dillon and into a rest stop in Frisco. Once you go through Frisco, you get on a trail that leads all the way to Avon (about 40-50 miles away (pay attention Texas, you could learn something from Colorado’s trails!)). It was the easiest climb of the day, but it was by far the hardest climb of the day. It wasn’t as steep or as long as the two we had just done. But I entered a zone, not too far into that climb, that endurance athletes refer to as "bonking." Most athletes overuse the term bonking, so I rarely say it. It’s not just getting tired and not being able to work hard anymore. That's not bonking, that's you not training hard enough. Bonking is actually when your brain decides it’s time to quit, and there’s nothing the rest of your body can do to convince it otherwise. Here is the scientific explanation of what happens when you bonk, which was written by Chris Carmichael:

“The importance of carbohydrate cannot be overstated. Not only is it the primary fuel source for endurance performance, it is the primary fuel for your brain and central nervous system. The brain cannot produce energy from fat or protein on its own; it can only take glucose (sugar) from the blood. This is part of the reason bonking (running low on blood sugar) is so detrimental to performance. The confusion, nausea, and disorientation that go along with bonking are more due to the brain running low on glucose than a problem with energy-starved muscles. When push comes to shove, the brain acts defensively to make sure it gets enough fuel. It forces you to slow down or stop exercising so it can use what sugar you have left to maintain your basic bodily functions.”

In other words, if you truly bonk, you can only blame yourself because you didn’t fuel properly! (of course, if you fake bonk, you can only blame yourself because you didn't train properly!). I’ve known this for a long time. I’ve known that bonking leads to confusion, nausea, and in my case, grumpiness/irritability. But the best part about bonking is that the logical, analytical left brain can’t even figure out what the heck is going on! Logic goes out the window, and the hippie right brain takes over and screams “DUUUUDE! SOMETHING’S WRONG!!! You've killed the left brain! I'm all you have left! We have to stop, NOW! And don’t think I won’t make you puke to do it!” All you can think at that point is, “I don't want to do this anymore or ever again.” You can’t figure out that all you need is a little sugar. And all you want is to do is stop.

So when we got to Copper Mountain, we stopped. And I ate. And then, I was fine. We cruised on up to Vail Pass (10,560 feet) without any other issues. I was happy, level headed, and having fun again. Stupid right brain! All we needed was a gel! Stop overreacting! We aren’t going to freeze to death, and we certainly aren’t going to starve to death! (Does anyone else find it strange that the RIGHT side of our brain is the hippie? Genius. God is hilarious.).

This has gotten really long, so I won’t go into much detail about the last 25-30 miles other than to say that it is NOT all downhill like the deceitful map shows. And the map conveniently left off the headwind as well. In all, I only burned around 4500 calories over the 121 miles (that extra mile was from our parking spot to the start) and over 10,000 feet of climbing. Right at 7 and a half hours. Average speed: a smokin’ 16 mph.

My right brain wants to do it again next year. We still haven’t convinced the left side. He’ll come around though. He forgets things easily.

Off to Colorado

Tonight, Krisha and I (and John) fly out to Denver. We're staying with our wonderful friends Ryan and Gayle (and Austin and Wyatt). We haven't met Wyatt yet, so we're excited for that. And we haven't seen Austin since last fall, so that's just as exciting.

Friday, I'll be at CTS to get the new road bike fitted, and to do some training with Lindsay. Then on Saturday, the real purpose of the trip. The Triple Bypass! No, not open heart surgery. I can do that in Dallas. What I can't do in Dallas is ride a bike over the Continental Divide. I talked a little about it in my last post. The ride climbs more than 10,000 feet over three climbs and 120 miles. It starts in Evergreen, and ends just outside of Vail. For those of you who have made the drive from Denver to Vail, this ride is not as easy as taking I-70. I-70 was built so that you don't have to drive the route we'll be riding. I can't wait!

If you're keeping up with Le Tour right now, check out this article by Chris Carmichael, which compares the Tour to the Triple Bypass.

See you next week . . .

HOLY CRAP! A BEAR!!!!

Just got back from beautiful Colorado. What an AWESOME weekend of training! Without a doubt, the highlight of the trip was about 10 minutes up Left Hand Canyon when I heard Ryan yell "HOLY CRAP! A BEAR!!!" It was without a doubt the coolest thing I have ever seen on a ride. We were just climbing along and all of sudden he (or she, I didn't stop to check!) went running across the road about 20 yards in front of us. We both slammed on our brakes and watched as an American Black Bear walked along the river to our right, pausing to check us out about every 5 steps. What an awesome creature! It really is a shame that we as a human race don't care more about preserving this wonderful planet that God has provided for us . . . .

Anyway, I went to Colorado this weekend for a camp with CTS and to do some training with my very good friend Ryan. After a day with my coach, Lindsay, at CTS doing Lactate Threshold, VO2 Max, a bike fit, swim analysis, and a running analysis, I was pretty worn out. By the way, getting your finger pricked every three minutes, working as hard as you can, on a bike that goes nowhere, with a tube in your mouth, a clamp on your nose, and people yelling at you is not most fun workout I've ever done! Regardless, the camp was great. They really know how to do it right at CTS! Thanks, Lindsay!

Ryan is doing his first half-ironman (actually, it's his first triathlon -- that's how he rolls -- Go big or go home!) this August at the 5430 Long Course in Boulder (you could have picked an easier race, Ryno!). We ran on Saturday in Boulder and found an awesome route that we will definitely be running again as soon as I can get back up there! We were only running for an hour and twenty minutes, so we actually had to turn around long before we were ready. We were just gradually climbing on a nice trail with a mountain to our right and a river to our left. It was beautiful, and honestly one of the most fun runs I have ever done.

Sunday, we rode the 5430 bike course just to check it out. It seemed like it could be fast, but the first several miles were gradually uphill, almost a false flat, which could make you feel slow coming out of T1. We'll have to be patient on race day. After that, we climbed up Left Hand Canyon to Ward, had a delicious cookie, rode back down the mountain, and then up Stage Hill. Stage Hill was much shorter and felt like a small rolling hill after having climbed the hour twenty minutes that it took us to get up Left Hand Canyon. I was having some mechanical trouble so we headed back to the Res and called it a day. It was a great day, and I was not happy to be heading back to the airport to return to Dallas! Thanks for the EPIC weekend, Ryno!!

Note to self, next time you're doing that much climbing, bring something besides a P3C with an 11-23 cassette!