Why I'm Never Doing an Ironman

"So when you YOU gonna do an Ironman?"  "You should totally do a full with us next year."  "So you signed up for next years group race right?"  Apparently, once you get involved with the punishment-drunk community that is triathlon, these questions don't cease until you finally cave.  I however, am stronger than the average fool and shall not cave.


I have about a hundred of reasons (some may call them excuses) as to why I will not partake in such foolery, some of which are legit and others are simply excuses.  Some of my favorites are: Cuz I don't want to; My wife won't let me; I'm too lazy; It's not healthy to put your body through that; and I'm not keen on peeing on myself for an entire day.  The most legitimate excuse however, is simply "it's a long ass day, and I don't want to do it."

To prove my point, I decided to log everything I did in a day/night, as the rest of the Friends partook in their group foolery; Ironman Cozumel.  Here is how it went.

• 6:40 a.m. ish - Gun starts going off for for pro field as I am sure the age groupers are finishing up their final colon-cleansing of the morning.  I remain fast asleep dreaming of apple pie and left-over turkey.
• 7:00 a.m. ish - Gun starts going off for various waves of age groupers.  I roll over and shush my alarm clock instead of dragging myself out of bed to get my run out of the way.  Roll back over and enjoy the comfort of my warm awesome bed even though the fat dog is snoring in my ear.  Sleep is grand.
• 7:30 ish to 8:20ish - Most of the crew exits the water from the swim.  I hear the water is super perty over there.  I however, am still enjoying a wonderful siesta as I listen to the wind howl outside.  It is a good thing I slept in instead of getting my run on.  It is cold out there.
• 8:30 a.m. -  Wake up have a delicious breakfast of eggs and granola and fix a cup of coffee.  Yup, the wind is howling, it is cold, boogers froze as I let the dog out. 
• 8:45 a.m. - Log on and check where everyone is at.  Everyone is safely on the bike.  Watch a wonderful episode of Jake and the Neverland Pirates in the background as The Wife and Oldest heads out the door for hockey practice.
• 9:30 a.m.ish - Friends are still pedaling.  Change a poopy diaper.  Research races for next year inspired by my Ironman dominating friends. (NO it will not involve a full - gonna do a few Half's though).  Come up with unrealistic goal to put on the Bicycle Betterment Bunker wall for the winter.
• 11:00 a.m. ish -  Friends are finishing their first loop on the bike (only 2 more to go) while Sunday NFL Countdown explains the finer aspects of the Lambeau Leap.  
• 11:15 a.m. - Friends still pedaling and probably peeing on themselves by now.  Finish catching fat dog that thought he should run off into the frozen tundra after going potty and resume game of rescuing airplanes from the knee hockey net with The Youngest.
• NOON - The Wife and Oldest are back from hockey practice.  Gather everyone up to head out to watch the new Penguins movie with The In-laws. Pro pal has finished her second lap and most of the Friends are fixing to finish their second laps here any time now.
• 12:45 p.m. - Dropped $70ish at the damn movie theater. WTH!?? maybe I should do an Ironman. Breaking the rules and still following the Friends during the movie.  The fellahs in the group have finished their second lap.
• 2:45 p.m. - Movie done, "medium" coke and kettle corn polished off. The stronger bikers out of the Friends are now starting the marathon.  Seriously, a marathon after doing all of that.
• 3:15 p.m. - Friends finishing up bike or on the marathon already.  Check fantasy football scores after early games (not looking good) get ready to run in the damn cold.
• 4:30 p.m. - Finish run in 15 degree weather with windchill of friggin arctic!  Sucked icicles!  Almost became envious of those doing a marathon in Cozumel until I realized they were going 3 times as far as I was AFTER swimming 2.4 miles and riding 112.  I'll take pneumonia instead. Quick gear review - Under Armour's new Coldgear Infrared Engaged gloves are insufficient for midwest winter running - hands froze.  Everyone is chugging along on the marathon.
• 4:40 p.m. - Hands finally thawed out enough to type ... half the Friends have passed the 21K marathon time check mark.  Is that halfway or what is that anyway?  Can't convert K's to miles.  Yet another excuse not to do one of these things.
• 5:00 p.m. - Core body temp finally returning to normal, smashing a huge plate of turkey and sweet potato sinfulness while watching the end of the Packers vs. Patriots game.  Friends still chugging along.
• 5:40 p.m. ish - Pro pal finishes 13th in the women's pro field.  Solid day, think I will have a piece of pie to celebrate.
• 6:20 p.m. - Sore gut from eating too much turkey after running.  How in the heck do they eat and run a marathon.  Nope, couldn't do it.  Trying frantically to find the finish line cam cuz a couple of buddies are crushing their PR's and are about to finish.
• 6:38 p.m. - Rolling out my sore legs from my measly hour, sub-zero run as the first Friend finished with a huge PR.  Don't think there was a finish cam and if there was I didn't find it.  Pretty damn inspiring though, must admit.
• 6:50 p.m. - Watched a back-to-reality, put-life-into-perspective, 60 Minutes segment on the Syrian war and the refugees it is affecting - Second Friend finished at the end of that segment. Solid day for him.
• 7:10 p.m. ish - got comfy watching TV lounging in my recliner, got up and checked Friends' progress, realized that The Brit finished.  Crushed his PR.
• 7:35 p.m. ish - Fourth Friend finishes as I'm watching the night game - Chiefs v. Broncos. Just 2 more to go on the course.
• 9:00 p.m. ish - Fifth friend finished somewhere in between here and last post.  Tough day for him but most admirable honestly.  Sucked it up, pushed through and finished like a boss!  Maybe I should go for another run.  Nope, its cold outside, but I'll have some ice cream.
• 9:50 p.m. - It's past my bedtime and the last Friend is still on the course. She will finish no doubt, but I have to go to bed if I'm going to get up and get my workout done in the morning.
• 6:30 a.m. Next Day - Slept in, failed to get up for workout.  Fail!  Checked social media to see pictures and posts of Friends that rocked it.  Everyone pushed through and finished and had awesome stuff to brag about.  Super inspired and happy for them.  Still not doing it.

So to sum it up.  All the Friends can keep up their awesome work.  I'll sit back and feed off their inspiring performances but don't plan to donate to the inspiration pool anytime soon.  Great group of bad mamajammahs, but I'll go ahead and answer the questions ahead of time.  "No I'm NOT doing an Ironman!" ... This year.

Attack of the Port-a-Potty

Port-a-potty, Kaibo, Johnny-on-the-Spot, Porta-loo, Outhouse - all are nicknames for those wonderful portable bowl movement receptacles we all have come to appreciate before every race.  Well, I have a new name for one in particular - Ambushing Assassin From Hell.  That's right, not many people have the unfortunate distinction of being jumped by a port-a-potty - I however, am one such sap.  As if getting worked over by a outhouse is not funny enough, it is the surrounding circumstances and self-talk that preceded said whooping, that really make this story worth writing.  They say in cycling "its not if you wreck, its when you wreck."  I now know this to be true but my first "when you wreck" could not have been more spectacular and entertaining.

Saturday, April 6, 2013, its the morning of the annual Final Four Party that we were hosting for the first time.   Got to get the workout in before an afternoon full of BBQ and beer.  It was an overcast morning, temperature in the mid-to-upper 50's, with consistent 16 mph winds out of the southwest.  There was an occasional gust of up to 34 miles per hour.  (They keep records of this stuff.)  Not a fabulous morning, but for spring time in Iowa, it was just nice enough to lure a fellow out for his first long weekend outdoor ride of the year.  The long winter mornings of sweating it out in the stinky hot garage rides or in the basement bicycling betterment bunker, had created a double-action, turbo-charged, bicycle propelling rocket legs and this engine could no longer be contained by four walls.  It needed the open road!

It was chilly, especially with the wind, but tough guys do what tough guys do, and I was one such tough guy determined to ride outside.  I was sure that everyone else was wither still snuggled up nicely in their bed or were pedaling comfortably on their trainer at one of the last garage rides of the season.  Wusses!  Decked out in tights, gloves, stocking cap under the helmet and a jacket, (tough but still have some remaining tropical blood in my veins from growing up in Hawaii) I headed out east and then north with the wind at my back.  I was freaking flying.  My turbo-charged pedal bike propulsion jets were stronger than ever.  The entire triathlon world better prepare to be left in my dust.  The first half of the ride was ego-inducing confirmation of my off-season forged, new-found awesomerness. (Sure its not technically a word but as you can tell it means a higher level of awesomeness than that which was previously attained).

When one pedals out to the north, one must eventually turn around and pedal back to the south in order to make a complete loop and arrive back at camp awesomeness.  I did that and was instantly reminded that riding outside meant riding INTO the wind as well.  The wind was so strong I couldn't hear myself think as it whistled through my helmet.  I couldn't even hear cars approaching me from behind.  "That's cool, that's alright, it's like running on a treadmill with 11 percent grade or something.  It's what tough guys do."  Tough, painful, but virtually certain to add that much more to my repertoire awesomeness.  During the winter I even read an article about riding in the wind and now I was able to practice my newly found expertise.  "Drop a couple of gears, keep the cadence up, head down and just brew ahead."  Brew I did ... to the tune of 6 mph!  "Whatchu looking at buddy, driving your mamsy-pamsy car up this here road?"  "That's right I'm tough, I'm out here pedaling my face off into the wind cuz I am one bad-ass triathlon rocking son-of-a-gun!"

The ride back home took twice as long as the ride out, but it didn't bother me.  In fact, it added that much more fuel to my unjustified, overconfident self-image of uber-atheletic awesomeness.  Toes were number, fingers barely moved, and snot dripped down my nose as my quads burned and screamed out in speed-building agony.  It didn't matter.  Everyone else was riding inside, munching on snacks, watching a movie, while rocking out to their favorite play list.  I, on the other hand was riding right into the eye of a freaking hurricane!  "Who's going to crack an hour on his olympic distance bike leg?!"  That's right I could do that right now if I wanted. (still to this day haven't come close).  As I cruised back into our subdivision, my head was so big, there was no helmet out there that could contain it

Once in the subdivision, the wind subsided thanks to the shelter of the surrounding houses.  Images of triathlon greatness danced through my head.  Shoot the lazy neighbors were probably just now stirring from their slumber.  Truly, I was in a class all by myself.  Gliding up to the stop sign a block from my house, I niftily unclipped and slowed from warp-speed to yield to an approaching SUV.  Up the road sat a lot under construction with a gray port-a-potty sitting immediately next to the south curb, door facing me.  A car was parked on the north shoulder of the street so the SUV would need to come out into my lane to get around the car.  The SUV driver and I made eye-contact and he waived me through.  Surely he recognized my pedaling prowess and yielded to my superiority.  "Yes, yes, I am awesome" I thought as I clipped back in and started to dance on the pedals on my merry way.

I hadn't sooner clipped back in and made my first, buttery-smooth pedal turn, when a surgically aimed wind gust burst forth from the south.  As if being directed by God Almighty to bring me crashing back down to earth, the gust grabbed the Crapper door, flinging it open directly into my path.  Like an alligator lunging out of the murky water to grab an unsuspecting wildebeest, the port-a-potty executed the perfect ambush.  I didn't even have time to emit the schoolgirl scream that spawned in my throat.  Brakes locked - two startled faces, SUV bumper, asphalt, sky, feet still in pedals, asphalt again - all flashed before my eyes for what little fleeting moment they were open. "It's not if you crash, it's when you crash" they say huh.  Well this one's a doozie!

The SUV driver and his wife's face is still firmly burned into my mind.  Eyes the size of Texas flapjacks, mouths agape, frozen in utter shock and surprise.  I'm not sure what part of my body hit the pavement first but I know for a fact I did at least a half somersault still clipped in.  It had to have been an epic scene.  Where's the camera!  That's Pulitzer Price winning shit right there!  A few awkward moments passed as I did an internal once-over making sure no bones were sticking out.  Toes - check; fingers - check; arms - check; knees - check; hips - check; pride - GONE!  My attention immediately turned to my precious bike.  "Please, tell me its not broken, please tell me it's not broken." Tires - good; gears - good; handlebars - little off centered.  Nothing major, all-in-all, she's good!

"You alright?" The SUV driver asked, still in shock. "Mumble, mumble, mumble." "Yeah, yeah I'm fine, thanks."  I muttered.  Wish I would have had something cool to say or jumped up and yelled "TADAAAAA" or done something awesome, but I had freaking nothing.  Image of awesomeness was in a gazillion pieces.  "Should have pedaled in the basement."  The couple had to have had an aneurism from laughing as they drove on down the street.  Physically fine, but ego and perception of awesomeness now on life support, I plopped back onto the seat and rolled slowly back to the house.

The Oldest greeted me with: "Your pants are ripped, what happened?  You crash?"  "Mhmmm, that's why we wear our helmets, now go pick up dog poop!"  Trying to sneak into the house unnoticed, I got a "How was the ride?" from The Wife.  "Funny you should ask ... Bet you can't do a somersault on a tri-bike!"

Moral of the story - when you are having a good ride, watch out for flying crappers and make sure to make your first crash is one to talk about!

Why We Ride On Roads

 HOOOOOOONNNNNNKKKKKK, VAROOOM ...  "Get of the road asshole!"  The stench of cigarette smoke and diesel exhaust filled my nostrils as the customary spring greeting was followed by the ever-familiar death stare and a middle finger disappearing into a cloud of diesel truck exhaust.  "Screw you lazy ass redneck d-bag, sorry you are in a rush to get to Walmart to use your cigarette carton coupon that expires tonight" I thought to myself, while not having the courage to flip him off back.  After all he was in a 2 1/2 ton truck and I was on a featherlight pedal bike.  Alas, it must be spring and I must be pedaling my bicycle on a road again.

Everyone seems to have an opinion about pedal biker's riding on the roads.  Many feel that pedal bikers should limit their pedaling to sidewalks and bike paths.  In fact, if we took a poll, chances are the majority of motorists who are not pedal bikers themselves, would probably agree with the aforementioned red Chevy diesel truck with license plate #____ driving jackhole that welcomed me back to riding outside this spring.

I can see where they come from, I guess.  But maybe, just maybe, it is due in part to not quite understanding the pedal biking community and the reasons why we do ride on roads.  Let's forget for a minute that pedal bikers have just as much legal right as vehicles to pedal their faces off on regular roads (see this blog written by a brilliant lawyer a few years ago); lets forget for a minute that it is actually illegal for pedal bikers to ride their bikes on sidewalks; and lets set out the top 10 reasons why pedal bikers ride on the road instead of trails.  

10.       Gnats.  These micro-nuisances splatter your face as they congregate in groups of a gazillion back on the bike trails, sheltered from the wind.  They will cover your body and enter every orifice of your face as you fly through them.  They really don’t have a taste but they certainly splatter across your sunglasses quite efficiently.

9.         Walnuts.  Walnuts litter many of the bike trails – hitting these solid turd-sized land mines at 20 miles an hour with 23 millimeter wide tires does not make for a good combination.

8.         Recreational Pedal Bikers.  Some shall call them “recreational pedal bikers,” have either had too much to drink at the Cumming Tap and are attempting to navigate their way home, or simply have the attention span of the aforementioned gnat and can’t seem to stay on their side of the trail.  This creates the peril of the not-as-unusual-as-you-might-think head-on trail collision.

 

7.         Runners, Joggers & Walkers.  Bike trails are not just for bikes.  Runners, joggers and walkers also use them.  Sometimes running, jogging or walking three wide, they don’t always comprehend the term “bike trail” means bikes are likely to go zooming by them.  The obligatory “on your left” will inevitably lead to a startled “oh my gosh” and a tinkle in the drawers of the elderly walking population.  I for one don’t want to be responsible for the pedal bike induced cardiac arrest.  

6.         Dogs.  Some find bike trails a great place to walk their dogs.  They are indeed a fabulous place to walk a k-9 companion.  Don’t get me wrong, dogs are awesome, but owner on one side of the trail with dog on the other and leash in between creates a convenient clothes-line effect for those traveling on a pedal bike down the middle of said trail.

5.         Squirrels.  These little schizophrenic bastards dart on and off of the bike trail unable to decide which side will offer them protection from the fast approaching unidentified pedaled object.  While in a car, you can simply cruise on by and over them if they fail to make up their mind fast enough, a pedal bike is a different story.  You will inevitabley slam on your breaks, swerve your ass off or otherwise engage in an ungraceful maneuver that nearly costs you your life in an attempt to avoid hitting them.  On the road, they are either already squished or safely in a tree, well out of harms way.

4.         Intersection Crossings.  Trails have intersection crossings about every mile or so.  Cars turn right on red even when the pedestrian light is green without looking for pedal bikers.  Almost on a yearly basis, this results in a pedal bike squishing.  More car v. pedal bike accidents happen at trail crossings than on the open road. Don't believe me?  This dude sets out a pretty good argument that you are actually safer pedaling on a road than on a bike trail. http://csua.berkeley.edu/~piaw/accident.txt

3.         Hills.  You can't train for a triathlon or pedal bike race without training on hills; you can't find real hills on a bike path that is laid out over an old rail road track.  To get hills a pedal biker must ride on the road.  It is that simple.

2.        Open Road.  Ever go for a run only to stop every block and wait for the light to turn green? Would you get on a treadmill if it stopped every 5 minutes and you had to restart your run? Would you lift weights if in the middle of the set you had to rack them and wait 30 seconds before restarting?  Would you do a "body-pump" or P90X if the instructor froze for 30 seconds randomly through your workout?  Probably not because that would certainly not be a good workout.  That’s what riding on most bike trails is like.  Hence, the open road is the only way to go.

1.         Because My Friend Saw This Along the Bike Trail Once.  I for one would rather get cussed at by a pissed off red-neck then get eaten by a Bobcat.  Judge me if you want...

                                                     (Picture courtesy of Mike Reagan)

If you are a pedal bike road rider hater and have read this, at least now you know why we do it.  You are certainly free to express yourself and your disdain for those of us out there just trying to get a good work out in.  Feel free to cuss, swear, flip us off, moon us and otherwise express yourself in a peaceful manner, but if you could at least avoid honking and buzzing us with your over-compensating noisy-ass exhaust trucks, causing us to almost wreck, that would be much appreciated.

PS:  The pictures used in this blog (with the exception of the Bobcat taken by my friend Mike Reagan) were freely borrowed from the internet and are the property of whoever took them and posted them out there for our amusement.