Posts from — July 2005

I missed my workout today. This was necessitated by the fact that my ride to the pool bailed out on me and I was forced to drive myself to the pool and return home in time for my wife to use the car to take the kids to day camp. I wasn’t left with enough time to run in the morning, although I hoped to get a run in the early afternoon.

This was not to be, as I got out of work later than I hoped and I had to pick the kids up from camp. I could have run at 5pm, but that would have given me less than 12 hours to recover for a difficult workout tomorrow. I hate when I miss workouts. I feel like such a failure. I really shouldn’t, especially since my coach gave me a pass to skip it.

My swim this morning was good. I felt very strong in the water. The only downside to my swim was that the pool was a bit crowded and the medium speed lanes were invaded by slow swimmers. At first I used the slow lane, since no one else was using it. I guess the slow swimmers felt it a stigma to be swimming in a lane marked slow. For all I care, the lane could have been marked “Retards Only”; as long as it was clear, I would want the least crowded lane. Perhaps the people in the Medium lane really are “Slow”, as in short bus slow.

All was fine, until midway into my workout; an older woman entered my lane and made of point of stopping me to ask if I would move over to the next lane. I explained that it was crowded with snorkel bearing, fin flapping detritus than swam with the speed of sludge in clogged pipes. However, I was kind and obliged her.

I did figure though that one good turn deserves another, so when a particularly slow snorkler approached the wall after I passed her, I asked if she wouldn’t mind swimming in the slow lane. From her reaction, you would have thought I asked her if I could check her pulse because she was moving so slow. Truth be told, she was moving slower than a floater down the East River. After a few more words were exchanged, the older woman who started this whole menagerie (by asking me to move), came upon us. I told her “you see what I have to deal with?” She shook her head in u

I had a weird dream last night. It was political in nature and featured my cousin K and President Jimmy Carter. Somehow she got a giant wood box, in the shape of a coffin that had things in it from the Jimmy Carter presidency.

In it was a giant cooked turkey with all the trimmings. It was obviously cooked a long time ago and sealed in the coffin. In the place where the turkey head should be was a picture of Carter’s face. I started to make a joke that it was the food from what should have been for a celebration party for the successful mission of releasing the American hostages in Iran back in 1979-1980. They placed everything in the “coffin” after the mission failed and put it in storage. How she acquired it was beyond me.

I wanted to take a picture of it as a supplement to something I was going to write about it on my blog. However, K wouldn’t let me take the picture, as she was afraid it was too inappropriate. I got furiously angry as I tried to snap some pictures and she kept swatting my hands so I couldn’t get the shot. We basically stopped talking after that, but later on I started to wonder if perhaps she were right. I was wondering if blogging about political stuff would cause nasty repercussions.

I don’t really know what the significance of the dream is, but I do know where some of the components for it came from. I was IM’ing a colleague over the Internet and the discussion went from current events to some history of the United States. The Iranian Hostage situation was one of the topics. I was probably thinking about my cousin earlier that day and the two and two went together.

I guess the dream just signifies my fear of blogging about some issues I would like to discuss. Unfortunately, it didn’t resolve the question for me.

I am at my brother’s house for his annual 4th of July family get together. It is three weeks before Lake Placid Ironman. Last year while I was here, I tripped on the steps walking down from the second floor of his house. The last step is black granite and blends in with the granite floor. I didn’t see the step, turned my ankle and went sprawling along the floor. I spent the next 3 weeks before Lake Placid icing it and going for acupuncture. I vowed to myself, not to make the same mistake this year.

To top off my training for Lake Placid before my slow taper begins, I put in several strong workouts starting on Friday. On Friday, I headed to one of my laps and finished with 5100 meters in 1:36:00. At one point during the swim, the lane line started getting slack and the lane started to get very narrow. For a few moments I thought I was going crazy and no longer able to swim straight.

We were the fastest in the lane and needed to pass slower swimmers on many occasions. During one of these moments, Todd was coming towards me while I was attempting a pass of a laggard doing the backstroke. We had a mid-lane collision which caused all of us to stop. The slower swimming had this look of “Did I cause this pile up?”

Later, we went to Central Park and ran 6 miles. I did mile sprints with a slow recovery, while ST did a steady 6M.

On Saturday I rode a fast paced 61 miles in Prospect Park. My goal was to maintain 21-24 MPH for 40-50 miles. I was successful in this goal. Several times during the ride a pace line formed on me. I liked when this happened, because it offered encouragement to ride faster. At one point during the ride, I had a bug splatter on the lens of my glasses.

Sunday was a 21 mile run, which each loop of Prospect Park being negative splits. It wasn’t easy, but I managed that goal. I was glad it was over. My elapsed time was 2:45. This included all bathroom and water breaks.

Monday was a more interesting workout day. I went to the boardwalk in Coney Island to run 4 miles, before my swim group – www.cibbows.org, met on the beach. It was a gloriously sunny day, with a warm soft breeze. I discovered that the boardwalk has mile markers along the straight planks closer to the street. I started at approximately the .5 mile mark and ran to Sea Gate. The return to the start should have yielded 4 miles, but I was curious to see how far off I was from the .5 mile mark. The entire boardwalk is 2.5 miles long. I ran past my starting point looking for the mark, but wound up at the beginning of the boardwalk without ever finding it. The pleasant run, more than compensated for the fruitless search and I got to run 5 miles total.

After waiting around after my run, my swim friends started to show up. Fortunately, one of them had an extra swim cap and goggles, since I forgot mine, along with my money, wallet, towel, change of clothes, etc. If I drowned, I would have been completely unidentifiable.

The swim going towards the pier was easy and quick. However, the return presented a fair amount of chop and wind. Truth by told, it was a pain in the ass. I am also not acclimated to cold water and my fingers were completely numb and tingling by the time I got out of the water, despite wearing a wetsuit.

When I returned home, I played with my children in my backyard, where we just installed a partially inflatable pool. It has a 15 foot diameter and is 3 feet deep. The kids loved it. We ran around the perimeter all day long to make a nice whirlpool/tornado effect.

Overall it was a great weekend.

Lately my son has been obsessed with thoughts of me dying. I think these thoughts were a slow buildup from the time that his pet lizard died. He keeps asking me why we have to die, when am I going to die and am I going to die. I just keep trying to reassure him that I am not about to die.

This morning, the conversation around the breakfast table was once again, when I would die. I said that it wouldn’t be for a very long time, possibly not until I was at least 100 years old. My daughter quickly calculated this to be in only 60 more years. For my son, this was not nearly long enough into the future for him. I tend to agree. I told him that I simply refuse to die. I am also hoping this will not be the case during the run am the upcoming Ironman Lake Placid.

Speaking of death, it strikes me that there are forms of death other than physical. It wasn’t that long ago, that I was suffering a form of brain death while I was preparing for Ironman Arizona. I recently came across an email I wrote to my cousin regarding my feelings at my previous job. I was a bit surprised when I read it. Here it is:

—————

From: Beast
Sent: 3/9/2005 3:28 PM
To: K

I think I will have a good race. Perhaps not a Kona qualifying race, but nevertheless a good one. This is not pessimistic, just realistic. But you never know. I will continue Searching… for the Kona spot.

Yes it is miserable here. Worse than working in a coal mine in the early part of the century before they invented dust masks. Instead of coal particles giving me black lung, I am absorbing negative energy that is turning my soul black. Soon it will be coated with such a morass of foulness that surely it will sink down to hell due to the weight.

The worst thing about this stressful and foul work environment, is that it saps my strength to think clearly. I know I need to improve the situation, but I am left with not enough energy to make any moves, much less think of any moves to a better situation.

I guess that’s why people go postal – like those chimpanzees.

I am so glad I am out of that company. I feel as though I am reborn – so far from death. I am in the best shape of my life and getting ready to qualify for Kona. I am confident and feel so alive. Hopefully my son will catch some of the energy coming from me, and forget about thoughts of death.

The other day a friend of mine asked me over AOL Instant Messenger if he could ask me a personal question, man to man. I of course said yes and was quite curious to know what he wanted to ask. His question pertained to a dilemma that millions of married men throughout the world must have; namely, what do you do when your wife won’t give you sex anymore.

I was able to answer this question without missing a beat. Having been with the same woman (my wife) for over 20 years inevitably brings you to such eventuality. I responded to him that he has three choices; 1 – Cheat, 2 – Jerk off or 3 – Do long course triathlon like me.

Personally, I feel that choice 3 is the best, and in reality, the only option. The first choice is just plain wrong is fraught with a high likelihood of becoming very messy. Choice 2 is simply messy. Yes, choice 3 is the best option. Here are the advantages:

1 – You are too tired for sex so you don’t really care if you get any.
2 – The lack of sex causes you to focus and train harder, thereby giving you some great performances out in the field.
3 – The backup causes, shall we say your package to appear large in those tight triathlon shorts.

I am not sure if my response helped my friend with his man problem. I invite others to respond should they contain knowledge of a better solution.