Random Musings

• I am not as happy as I want to be. I'll get there. At least I am beginning to feel "not rotten."
• I'm starting to work out regularly again. That helps me to feel happier. Having had a taste of what it's like to be a sloth (my definition), it doesn't surprise me how many angry, out of shape people there are in the world.
• Never thought I'd say this--but a workout done slowly is still a workout. I miss the pain.
• I'll take physical pain from working out any day over being overstressed, overweight, inactive, mad at the world or ungrateful.
• What is it with sociopaths? I suppose I should feel sorry for them, but I don't. They sure don't have any empathy towards me. ATTENTION SOCIOPATHS: I'm onto your game.
• I can still appreciate hotties even though I am not one. What does that make me? A hottie hag?
• I can't swim worth shit, but I still like doing it. Being in the water and not thinking about anything besides trying to get across the damn pool and feeling the water on my body and just breathing and not sinking is enough for about 1 hour. Getting to watch other great swimmers (guys)--BONUS! The B-Man rocks!
• My favorite colors right now are pink and black. Anything goes with black and pink makes people notice.
• I'm not smiling as much as I did a few months ago, but that will come back. I really like to smile!
• I continue to find it amusing at the number of professional people who can't separate facts from emotions. Both are, but both are very different.
• I understand people who don't know what to say to me right now, or who don't understand my change into this person who I am right now. I imagine it's confusing to see someone who normally appears so together and such appear to be falling apart randomly. If there's one thing I learned is that one needs to learn about how to fall apart and then put oneself back together again. Right now I'm sort of stuck in a Humpty Dumpty loop--sit on wall, feel in control, fall off, fall apart, climb back up, repeat. Eventually I'll get back to climb wall, do cartwheels on wall, laugh at anyone not on wall, stay up there for months at a time, and climb down when I feel like it.
• The way I like to be treated is give me the damn facts, and then let me choose my own emotions. Don't impose your emotions on me unless it's pure, unadulterated joy!
• Mean people will always suck.
• Everyone is more attractive when they smile.
• I want a sign for my yard that reads: INVISIBLE DOG--FENCE IN TRAINING.
• I want to be able to make some workouts hurt. I'm getting there on the bike. That's my #1 priority right now.
• I can't wait for Ironman #11. THIS ONE GOES UP TO ELEVEN!

Thanks for the Scenery

I'm going to skip over all the bad stuff today...suffice it to say there is starting to be more good stuff than bad stuff. I am so appreciative of all the people who are nice to me and supportive. I hope I can return the favor.

This morning I was actually happy to get up early and make it to the pool for a short swim. I even made it there before the scenery arrived. I really enjoy swimming next to good swimmers (most swimmers are better than I am, especially right now), and it's even better when they are hottie guys.

B.--it was sweet to get the full visual of you standing on deck today (I about choked underwater), and sorry when I got distracted looking into your eyes while we were talking later on. It made the unbearably hot water somehow tolerable. It's too bad you only swim on Wednesdays, but it makes for good mid-week motivation. Give me another few weeks and I should be rid of my excess flab accumulated over the last 12 weeks, and the pink and sparkly suits will make an appearance!

Thanks, B.

The Fog is Beginning to Clear

This past week felt like a hurricane descending upon me. For the most part, it's bad weather, and then there are some tornadoes included to make it even worse.

I was drowning in a sea of paper for about 3 days, making calls and hacking into websites (guessing my Dad's userid's and passwords) to get things straight. I began to organize things into "done," "bills to be paid," and stuff I thought the lawyer would need. I ended up making (oh the SHOCK!) a spreadsheet of all the periodic payments, and then I made an estimate of how much money would need to be set aside to maintain Dad's house, assuming it didn't sell for awhile, and also to fix it up to prepare for sale, and things like utilities, real estate taxes, etc. I figured that if I could, I'd distribute all money except for what I thought I'd need. At any rate, I got things pretty organized to the point that by Thursday morning, I was pretty much set to have a productive meeting with the lawyer (the man who originally set up my Dad's trust accounts, will, and powers of attorney).

Tuesday I went to the Cremation Society all by myself to sign and pay for Dad's cremation. That was a bit disturbing, but I actually found my sense of humor while talking through the process. I was still feeling rather exhausted at that point (still am, actually), but less so than I had been the prior week.

Wednesday was my big breakthrough day when I felt like I had all the paper and "to do's" organized. That was also the day that my older sister decided to call me and scream at me (a passing tornado, as it were). I won't go into the content of her tirade--let's just say it's typical of her to throw tantrums even though's she's 57 years old. I also found out from one of my sisters-in-law that she had said I was "being an asshole," and combined with her screaming at me that "everyone else is pissed at you," even though I'm pretty strong and have gotten over her regular bouts of vile behavior, it still stung a bit, being in the weakened state I was in. But I also understood just how upset and fragile she is, and I do feel sorry that she is unable to be nice to her own immediate family. I also learned from a sister-in-law that at one time she called me a "cokehead." That made me laugh, considering my current nickname is Crackhead :)

So remember, the rest of this is being written by an asshole cokehead!

Wednesday evening I could tell that I was just about finished with the paper organization, and so I scheduled a massage for myself for the next day. The luxury!

On Thursday morning, I received a call from the Cremation Society that my Dad's remains, the death certificates (certified copies, that is) and the flag (Dad did serve in the Army from 1945 to 1946) were ready to be picked up. When I was told this over the phone, I made the YES sign with my right elbow to my right knee and said a loud, "YESSSS!" into the phone. At once, I apologized for my joy at hearing this news, and then I explained that I had an appointment with the lawyer the next day and that if I didn't have the death certificates it might be a waste of time. The odd thing was when I was asked when I wanted to pick things up, I became almost catatonic. I just couldn't think and respond to the question, seemingly for minutes, but it was probably really only 30 seconds or so. All I could think was that since I was pretty much done processing stuff for the week that I could get in a workout or two before going to the lawyer (appointment was 2:30PM Friday afternoon), and then I finally regained my composure and answered.

Thursday evening after my massage (which was wonderful), I got everything ready for Friday so that I could basically wake up, do something for myself (I had to complete my benefits enrollment for work, as the enrollment period was over the last 3 weeks and when did I have time?), get in a short run and maybe a short strength workout, buy some lunch for myself and my brother Mike who was going to the lawyer with me, and then head out. I got everything together and put a box by my front door together with my briefcase, and slept pretty well.

Friday went like clockwork--figure out my benefits and set them up (I changed some of my beneficiary designations in the process), run, do an abs/core workout, shower, go to Subway and then go to the lawyer. Well it all went well except for when I was about to shower, Mike arrived a bit early--I had just called him to ask what he wanted for lunch and he said he was a block from my house. That was fine, and we had time to sit down for lunch before heading to the lawyer.

Mike saw the box of stuff I had prepared and I talked him through the materials and questions I had. Once we got there, things just went very quickly. Actually, most of the time was spent with a financial consultant who handles estate stuff that Dad had worked with over the past year. This man, Chuck, also had sensed that my Dad knew he had some serious medical issues brewing. I'm not sure whether I talked about that, but while I went through his papers, I found evidence in some of his medical statements that he knew something was up with his kidneys and his liver. My other brother, Tom, said he had found evidence of Internet research Dad had done on liver cancer. So Dad knew! I am not sad that he didn't tell us, because I can only imagine that he had to choose between continuing to live as long as possible and effectively going into hospital for all sorts of treatments that would totally mess up his quality of life.

Anyway, Chuck and the lawyer, Tim, did great by us, and both commented on how organized and prepared we were! I really appreciated that, and we were able to get pretty much everything covered except for the inevitable sale of the house and distribution of remaining money!

This morning I marched into the local branch of Dad's banks with the correct legal paperwork to enable closing his checking account and transferring the money into a new Estate account that I can begin writing checks against.

I went for a short swim today, and I've taken the rest of the day off. I'm going grocery shopping and then cooking for myself--something I haven't done for 3 weeks. And this coming week, I should be able to ease myself back to about 10 hours of training and move it on up to 12-13, where I'll hold for a few months. I am still pretty tired out and recognize that it's still going to be touch-and-go for me (especially since people around me keep insisting that I haven't "processed" this yet), but I have to say today is the first day in 3 weeks that I actually smiled as I woke up and started my day.

I think Dad would be very proud of me to have made it this far in such a short amount of time. I think my siblings will be surprised to receive a call in a week or so asking what do they want to do with certain money that is coming their way quickly. I've got a realtor lined up that may be able to deal with the house sale.

Life isn't great yet, but it's approaching good, and I really can't complain!

Peace at Last

Dad passed about 9:30AM this morning. I was at hospital last night until about 8PM, and in a way felt guilty for not staying the night. I did get a smirk out of him briefly by saying that I was going to take all his money and keep it from my siblings.

He had oxygen and nothing else. He didn't appear to be in any pain last night, but I did have the nurse administer a little bit more morphine last night just to be sure he wasn't uncomfortable.

Last night I barely slept--each time I would awaken, I didn't want to be awake and assumed the phone would ring and I was so exhausted that I couldn't imagine getting up and driving back to the hospital. Somehow I comforted myself and got back to sleep until morning, when it got light out and then I just couldn't sleep. But this was the worst day for me, and I didn't want to get out of bed. It just wasn't going to be good.

As soon as I got up, I began going through some papers I had picked up at Dad's house and tossing those that didn't have any future financial impact. I was a bit happy that I had an extra hour with the time change to do some of this. Then I went and got the boxes out of my car with more papers and brought them into the house and began going through them.

I decided I wanted to try and run around 9:00, after talking to my brother Mike and deciding when we would go back to the hospital. I put my running clothes on and was just about to go out the door to the Y and decided to call the hospital.

I kid you not--I am psychic--I called and they said they were just about to pronounce him dead. Did I know? Sure. I suppose it was the last time, and I hope it's for awhile, that a run/workout is thwarted by severe illness or impending death.

I immediately called Mike and told him to come get me so we could go see him and make arrangements, and then I called my siblings to let them know. In a way, I was very curt and methodical, but only because I knew this would be the beginning of more things I needed to do.

Part of me didn't want to see Dad's body, but then we ended up spending a couple of hours in his room with him after getting things straight with the Chaplain about his cremation arrangements. And it was good to see he had passed with a slight smirk on his face, like he had beat all the rest of us to the punch of making the decision for him and he had gone when he wanted to.

I'm not saying any of this has been easy for me--it hasn't--but I am glad it is over, and now I can begin on the next phase of honoring his life by carrying out what he wanted me to do. And once that is nearly complete or at least under control (the sale of the house will take some months, I expect, and so I will need to continue paying bills and getting that process moving along), I want nothing more than to get back to my old life, which I had been questioning and wondering if it was the right thing to do and whether I was overly invested in something that really didn't matter.

What I learned from my Dad is that he LIVED even while he may have known he was ailing, and he did things he wanted to do and on his terms. When I first began doing triathlons, he didn't understand why I would want to push myself this way, but after a time he understood that I was just doing what he was doing, which was doing what brought me enjoyment, without judging why. Dad liked moving around, and he liked using his incredible intellect, and that's what I like doing. I may not express my intellect the way he did, but I do it nonetheless. I bet if he could have seen me pressing to get information about him and his condition so that I could determine whether we were doing the right things by him that he would be very proud of me, and that even though some people around me perceived it to be very unemotional, that in fact, I was being quite passionate about trying to do the very best I could do for him.

I discovered once again that very few people understand the difference between passion and emotion. Maybe I didn't even understand the difference. I question myself for sometimes being overly passionate, and lose sight and accuse myself of having useless emotions. Don't get me wrong--emotions are a good thing--but emotions are inert things without underlying passion. I know what it is to feel sad and hopeless and lonely and happy and in love. But what I want to guide me is not emotion but passion and compassion. That's it.

And so as I move into this next phase of accomplishing things on my Dad's behalf, I hope that I can continue to carry forward my passion for doing the right thing, my passion for living, and my compassion for myself and everyone else. I have and I will continue to be fallible and question myself. But I can keep sight of my core being and that's all there is.

Hospice and Hope

Dad's condition deteriorated quickly over the past 2 days, and yesterday (after a run--not yet showered), I had "the discussion" with his primary care physician. I will spare you the details, but at this point, any further treatments are at best invasive, intrusive and hit-or-miss, and at worst, speeding him onwards towards death.

So the PCP and I each had our conversations with Dad, and actually Dad decided for himself before I got the chance to discuss much with him (he has been barely cognizant for the past 2 days) that he did not wish to continue treatment.

I got hospice all set up, and now we wait. I don't think he will make it through this weekend. At least he gets to die with a bit of dignity rather than being 1/2 human, 1/2 machine like some Borg! Although in a way, I know that if he/we knew he could achieve the Borg state without being tethered to machinery, what the hell!

For as much anguish as I had been putting myself through before this all came up in terms of being at the end of my season and figuring out what I want to do, all I can say is this: I will be so grateful if I am physically, financially and logistically able to do another Ironman race! For right now, though, my only moments of being able to take myself away from my Dad's pain is when I am able to sneak in a short workout, and even then I've felt a bit guilty. But I know he would want me to stay healthy, as I must to get through the next few weeks.

Thank you everyone for all your kind words. Should you ever go through this, I am here for you!

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

Yesterday I spent 8 hours on the phone (with intermittent breaks to just drop my head in a state of exhaustion) with the insurance company, the hospital case worker and various nursing facilities.

Let me back up. In the morning, I called into the nurse's station to check in on Dad's conditions--not that I or anyone else can change what they are--I think we all just feel better when we are receiving information. I don't remember when, but I had been told that once he became "stable" (stable being a word relative to requiring hospital care vs. some other type of medical care) that he would be checked out of the hospital. While speaking with the nurse, I began asking her how imminent such a transfer might be and she informed me it could be next week, depending on how things went.

Now, you may think that a person on hemodialysis (i.e., an artificial kidney) would need hospitalization, especially with all the other things going on with Dad, but that's not the case. Depending on the other medical issues, a person can travel to a facility, receive the treatment (which is a 3-5 hour affair each time, typically needed 2-3 times weekly) and go home. Well, Dad is really not mobile at this point, but the next transition, assuming his kidneys respond to the dialysis (remember we are NOT treating the cancer at all) is to get him into a nursing home type of facility. So I told the nurse that I would try and work on that today, just so that we were prepared.

Frankly, I don't think Dad can be transferred early next week, but what the hell do I know? At any rate, it gave me some comfort that the nurse was impressed that I was going to start that process and she said, "I'm giving you a pat on the back."

Next, I contacted the case worker to get an idea of how to proceed. I had already been given a list of facilities that might be covered by Dad's insurance, but I needed to know what to look for. My brother Mike and I decided that Dad needed to be closer to us for ease of visitation. The complicating factor became the need for hemodialysis. The case worker and I discussed that it would be best for Dad to receive this onsite at his new facility rather than transporting him back and forth.

Next stop--insurance company. They were actually very helpful in showing me how to find the information I needed, and they did a bunch of it with me. I ended up with a list of 15 facilities that met the location criteria, and then I began making phone calls.

Here is when I became frustrated, as most of them do NOT have onsite dialysis available; however, they all will make transportation available. After about 10 calls, I decided to contact the insurance company to see about coverage for transporation. Turns out it would be $100 per dialysis session; at 3x weekly, that's $300 week. I wouldn't have an issue with that, but again, for comfort sake, onsite dialysis would be better.

I soldiered on, and finally found one facility that offers it, but it's tough to do the whole tour thing on weekends, and my time was running out for the day anyway--I had done nothing but be on the phone and hadn't showered or moved about much at all, and I needed to make a short trip for some groceries and be prepared for when my siblings arrived at my house. But, I did speak with them, visited their website, and decided that's going to be the place, as it will be our "best fit."

I thought it would be good for me AND my siblings to summarize my findings, if nothing else so I could organize my thoughts in speaking with them in the evening. I found that in summarizing things I had a few possibilities left out that I hadn't done any planning for, but that turned out to be OK. I reviewed my thought process with the case worker again, finalized a summary document, updated an information file about Dad that I could share with my siblings, took a deep breath, made a really quick grocery trip, finished my strength workout (about the only thing I've managed to get in this week) which took all of :15, quickly showered, got a call while I was barely out of the shower from one of my sisters-in-law, and then my siblings began arriving.

Mike arrived first, so I debriefed him personally, and then the rest arrived. I ordered pizza and salad, as I've had no time to plan for or actually cook anything for the past week. After giving everyone some time to catch up with one another (the last time we were together was at Mom's funeral last year, and before that I don't remember), I herded my actual siblings (spouses were left upstairs) downstairs to review things.

First, I went through a discussion of Dad's medical care, and discussed how I had learned that we needed to plan for a hospital discharge, and the process that I went through, and the conclusions that I had drawn. If somehow by the grace of God we are able to take Dad off of dialysis, then we can move him to a facility really close to me where one of my sisters-in-law already has a Great Aunt residing, and that would be just great. Otherwise, we only have the one logical choice of facility, and so we will go with that. I explained that while I'd like to be able to visit daily, that it's just not feasible for me to do, and that I understand we are all doing the best we can.

Next, I began discussing all the other tasks that we need to begin attending to, the most major one being the disposition of Dad's house. It's a mess, it's unclean (not as bad as it could be, but still not pleasant), and as far as we know, he won't be able to return there EVER, although we haven't told him that. I think he may know at some level, but you never know someone's state of mind. I said that while Mike and I were taking charge of the medical care decisions and that we would handle all the financial stuff during life and after death, that we needed someone else to step up and manage the whole house project. I had already prepared a checklist of the major activities that needed to occur, and we began throwing ideas about. I was pretty frank about the 2 sisters who live out of town needing to allocate some time to being here to take care of some of it, and I said that all I needed was for them to tell me when I needed to be where and I would give of my time accordingly.

My 2 sisters, Lisa and Carla, indicated they would collaborate on this. That's a HUGE relief to me! Now, this is not going to be easy for Dad to absorb, and now is not yet the right time, but at least we have a plan for that.

We discussed end of life decisions, and while we all agreed we thought that Dad wouldn't want anything heroic, that it would be good to (as best we can) find out whether he's still on board with that. I have no clue how long we have to do this. I know there are going to be a number of not so pleasant discussions. I was pretty frank with everyone that this would all be easier if it was just a sudden death--not out of disrespect for Dad, but that's just the way it is.

Meanwhile, for today, I am now going to the Y, and will see how much running I can tolerate and then maybe a short swim. I will be so grateful for it! And then Mike and I will go to the hospital and do whatever we can. Right this minute, I am enjoying the ability to be in my pajamas for an hour and write this!

Update on my Dad

I didn't know that when he was originally checked into the hospital on Tuesday that there was already a degree of renal failure occurring. But at that time, the immediate problem was to discover the cause of the pain and fix it, which was done (perforated duodenal ulcer repair). While they were in there, they observed the liver and did a biopsy of the metastacized cancer cells.

First order of business was for my Dad to recover from the surgery.

On Wednesday, I spent the bulk of my day at the hospital with my brother Mike (the younger of my 2 brothers). We did our best to enjoy a visit with Dad while also trying to shore up his financial accounts. My Dad did not keep any organized records--there are piles of paper throughout his house--some are his mathematics musings--and others are past financial statements and various scraps of paper (sometimes written on paper plates!) with names and numbers on them. I found it amazing that my Dad was able to rattle off 6 account numbers and passwords from memory!

Dad was in and out of awareness/awakeness on Wednesday, and he wasn't making use of his pain control button and getting crabby, at which point his wonderful nurse instructed him to give himself more pain meds, and that got him resting comfortably and sleeping.

Thursday AM the nephrologist (kidney specialist) indicated to me that he was in worse renal failure than on Tuesday, and she began asking me questions (assuming I might need to make the decision) about dialysis. I don't consider that "heroic treatment," so I said that we should pursue that treatment.

I headed back to the hospital on the heels of my brother Mike, as the way things had been presented in the early morning was that things might be really bad. This time, we got to spend some quality time with Dad, but we also began trying to get an overall assessment of his condition as to what could/should be done. I spent a bit of time with a case worker to discuss Power of Attorney, and specifically, a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) order. Dad's personal physician was scheduled to make a visit that afternoon.

Mike and I were visiting outside Dad's room and then went to return to him, when we noticed Dad's personal physician standing in the room having a discussion with Dad. Turns out he was asking Dad questions about his care, including whether he would want to be ventilated or resuscitated. Mike and I felt that Dad was being led on and taken advantage of in a weakened physical and mental state, and this got me rather upset.

In the meantime, I'm having phone discussions with my out of town sisters, Lisa and Carla, and well, you just wouldn't believe some of the things they said to me. I will chalk that up to the stress of the situation. I did start to feel like they are expecting me to make all current and future arrangements as well as be at Dad's bedside full time from here on out, which added to my stress.

I really felt like I was losing it, and decided to avail myself of the Chaplain's offer to talk. Turns out he generates Power of Attorney documents for patients who do not have them upon checking into the hospital, and so when he asked me what was bothering me most, I said the incident with Dad's personal physician leading him on and then insinuating that those verbal answers overrode and replaced the Power of Attorney declaration! The Chaplain assured me that, in fact, that is not the case. I don't want to have to get into a battle with medical personnel over what my Dad's wishes are. Effectively, at the point at which Dad becomes unresponsive, medical Power of Attorney goes into effect, and at that point, I hope that I can act according to how I think he would want me to. We are not at that point yet, but it could happen in hours, days or weeks. Who knows!

One of my sisters, the youngest in the family, Lisa (who lives in Indianapolis), arrived at the hospital around 5PM, and she was not in good mental condition (as none of us were!). She had taken my Mom's death extremely hard, being the baby of the family and all (they were very close indeed), and I don't believe that she had even seen my Dad since Mom's funeral. This is something I had discussed the week before all this happened, and I am sure she is feeling bad about the reason for her first visit post-Mom being Dad being in critical condition!

It became clear to me by this time that I was really stressing out after 3 days in hospital and trying to digest everything and be the focal point of communication and the Power of Attorney and all that. I rather ceremoniously stormed out of there after some harsh words were thrown my way. I am sorry for my behavior at that time, and I am learning in this process that we first need to forgive ourselves for our own failings, then forgive others around us. We are all doing the best we can!

I decided I needed a day away from the hospital, and knowing that Lisa would be there on Friday was of much comfort to me, although I still didn't sleep well. It felt good to just WORK, but I have to say I have never in my life (even during Mom's illness and passing) felt so completely and utterly exhausted. I know that I need to continue caring for myself if I am to get through this inevitable life process.

They did the first hemodialysis treatment on Dad yesterday. The way this goes, they must build up to a 3-5 hour treatment, because it is stressful on the body.

I suppose we won't know how much improvement there might be in Dad's renal function for a few days now.

This evening, my 2 brothers and 2 sisters are coming to my house to discuss the situation. I have already prepared a fairly organized list of tasks (there are SO many!) that need to be done relating to Dad's current and future care and quality of life issues. I know this will be a tough discussion, but it needs to happen, as all these things need to go on even as we all are doing our best to visit with him and care for him ourselves. When I look at things this way, it doesn't seem AS overwhelming, but it is very apparent to me that I need a lot of help and cannot do all these things myself.

Mike and I plan on being at the hospital as much as possible tomorrow and will see how that goes. There is additional information we need from Dad while he is still lucid. This is not morbid to me--it is just how it is. The very most important thing is that I want to understand his wishes with regards to his medical care and disposition of his body upon death. He has said things to me over the years that I thought to be true; perhaps he has changed--I am not sure. But I want him to feel like it is good for him to talk about these things with me and feel comforted that I will act the way he would want me to.

I am 100% exhausted, mentally and physically. Tonight will either make that better or worse. For now, I will hope for the better.

Here We Go Again

I just got home from an exhausting day in a hospital. This time it's my Dad. Admitted early this morning with excruciating pain. I guess he had lied over the past few days when telling me and other siblings that he was feeling better, from what he thought was a bladder infection.

"Free air" was detected in his abdomen, and a CT scan showed lesions on his liver, so surgery was called for right away. After he came to, the surgeon came to talk to me, my brother Tom, and Tom's wife Robin (who is a nurse), so thankfully I had some company. They found and repaired a duodenal ulcer, which was the primary cause of all the pain Dad was in, but then they discovered metastatic cancer on the liver. A biopsy has been done to determine the origin of the cancer, but the net net is that things are not good.

I have power of attorney (medical and financial) as soon as I have the physician declare the need, and I want to be prepared for whatever may come to pass from here on out--whether it's quickly or slow and painfully. Tom and I went to Dad's house to see if we could find the financial records and passwords. I have a pile of paper to go through. I don't think Dad's going back home. He is going to need daily care from here on out regardless, upon learning he hasn't been taking too good care of himself, and I'm sure plenty of this is due to the stress of losing his wife just over a year ago. Oh yeah--yesterday was my birthday. Happy birthday to me! And Friday is Dad's 81st birthday. Happy birthday to him!

Even before we knew surgery was imminent and then a preliminary diagnosis, today I decided that this weekend, which was to be a casual get together with a "birthday theme," was going to turn into a family meeting of the siblings. I have already declared to my 2 brothers and 2 sisters that I cannot handle this all by myself. Don't get me wrong--I will handle as much as I can possibly handle, but this time I'm asking for--no--DEMANDING--help. Making the calls today was very painful. I have learned how to know how broken up my siblings are over the phone by the different speech mannerisms they portray. I lose it myself, but I want them to feel like they can unload on me. This is not fun. It wasn't fun a year and a half ago with my Mom, and it isn't fun now.

Driving home tonight, I had the thought that my role in all of this crap is to somehow be the pillar of strength. As much as I "feel" this right now, I think I shoulder a lot of it for my brothers and sisters, and I want them to be able to feel like I'm at least sort of holding things together.

I find it interesting that I knew there had to be more reason for me to take a break/kick things down a few notches in my triathlon endeavors than me just needing a physical break. Perhaps the universe was asking me to get some rest to steel myself for this current challenge. I have just been starting to feel strong again and able to run without feeling like I've got no power. Go figure!

So in writing this, I am once again asking all you out there to be strong for ME.

Peace. Love the ones you love. We aren't here very long at all!

Time for a Break

Believe it or not, I'm taking a much-needed break from training. Since NothingMan, my body, and to some extent, my mind, has been telling me to keep it light. There have been days when I've wanted to run and my legs have felt dead. Same deal with biking. At this point, I'm not obsessing over whether it's as much mental as physical.

I've been sleeping a lot, puttering around the house trying to decide on things I can give away or throw away and not much else. I am keeping up stretching, and I am lifting, because, well, I never seem to tire of that.

Since I'm barely training, I'm watching my diet like a hawk, since I don't want to gain weight. At the end of a season, I always banish all the treats from my house that I allowed myself to have (in moderation, of course) when I was in heavy training--candy, Twinkies, various chips and such. At first, as is pretty normal, I craved all these things and just wanted to eat a bunch of food. But that is subsiding, and it's good to be comfortable on a very modest diet.

I figure I can continue on like this for at least another month. It's not like I don't want to do any exercise--I'm going to work my way back up to running 5x per week--but waking up early to swim is now optional, and trying to push myself hard while running or biking (that is, if I manage to get on a bike) is optional.

In a way, I'm looking forward to winter, as I generally do. There won't be any reason for me to train too hard, there will be no yard work to do (except for moving snow around), and I have lots of time for reading and other indoor activities. Right now, though, I'm still finding my way through a period of letting myself wind down physically and mentally. I laugh at myself periodically how worked up I get over training and racing! Not that that's a bad thing, and not that I won't get worked up again next year! It's just about time that I took a much needed break from running myself into the ground physically and neglecting anything not strictly necessary for or related to triathlon.

So if you don't see me posting here too much, well, that's why. I'm still contemplating whether it's necessary to write a season wrap-up or not--I think this next year for me is going to be about mixing things up--not so much training but just doing stuff, having fun, and letting races be stops along the way.

Chicago Marathon Travesty

In case you haven't already heard, the Chicago Marathon ran into problems yesterday. It was unseasonably warm. Depending on who you talk to or what you read (try Chicago Tribune), you may think the decision to reroute runners and not allow them to finish was a bad decision or a good one.

If you go and read Slowtwitch, you will observe some truly elitist perspectives on who should be "allowed" to run a marathon and such. To the people who say that anything over 4 hours is "easy to train for and anyone can do it," I have 2 words for you: FUCK OFF. While I do believe that almost anyone with reasonable health and enough determination can finish a marathon (or an Ironman, for that matter), not all of us are gifted enough to have the natural speed or mechanics or whatever it takes to go fast. Am I in favor of time cutoffs? Yes. 17 hours is good enough for me for Ironman. If there comes a time when I can't do that, then I am done. If they make the time cutoff less (some international races already do this), then I am bound by whatever constraints are placed, and I can choose not to enter any particular race. For an open marathon, I think 6 hours is a reasonable cutoff (that's a little faster than 15mpm). There is just so much planning and support necessary to put on these big events that some semblance of control needs to be exercised. It no longer matters to me why people choose to do these events--in the end, moving around for whatever reason seems to be reason enough!

But I disagree with some of the Slowtwitch posters that the bulk of the people entered in Chicago Marathon were not trained. There really aren't that many crazy people who would show up for a marathon never having run at least 15 miles in training. Do I think there are people entering marathons and Ironmans who do not train adequately for the distance? Yes. This is no different than the rest of life--there people who take jobs they are underqualified for, people who become parents who have no business doing so, and so on. We're human beings, and all of us do stupid things at one time or another.

It gets a bit complicated, though, when you have thousands of people in an event, most of whom are trusting the Race Director to have enough support on the course to get them through. It's one thing to do a self-supported event. I've run a marathon and done an Ironman that way. Would I want to do that with 30,000 of my closest friends? No. It's just very hard to manage. But if I show up for an event that I've paid for with the expectation that it will provide for my basic fluid and nutritional needs, then I expect that to happen, under whatever weather conditions exists. At IM Wisconsin 2005, I chose to pull myself out upon learning the bike aid stations were out of Gatorade. I could have continued, and I did my share of belly aching afterwards, because I felt the RD failed to meet my expectations. I wasn't undertrained--I just went in with the expectation that I could obtain enough nutrition for me to safely continue. I was bitter about it for some time, but it's in the past now, and I've lived to race another day.

Everyone, including the RD, knew how hot it was projected to be yesterday (and there was even a statement about it on the marathon website several days in advance). I have no idea how difficult it would be for an RD to order enough fluid and have it available on course to support 40,000 hot runners. Those of us who have done Ironman or even shorter triathlons know about running in the heat. We expect to have water to douse our heads, ice to put into our hats, and a buffet table laden with many choices to nourish ourselves. But there aren't 40,000 of us, or even the 30,000 (reports say 10,000 chose not to start at all yesterday). So the logistics are very different.

Could the RD have acquired and stocked enough water and Gatorade for all the runners given the heat conditions? I don't know. Was the decision to stop the race for some runners the right thing to do? If the RD knew they were out of supplies, then I suppose so. Sure there are some people who can (and did) make do by purchasing (or begging for) supplies so they could finish, but the longer you are out there, the more difficult it becomes to manage thousands of people.

I am very sorry for the man who died, and for all the runners who were hospitalized. I do not pass judgment on their fitness to complete a marathon.

I am sorry for runners who were denied their first or their 20th marathon finish.

I am sorry for the RD having to make tough decisions on a tough day.

There are going to be a lot of "what ifs" and finger pointing. It is, after all the City of Chicago. But sometimes things don't go the way we want, and we just need to move on.

Free Burma!

Going Solo in 2008

I'm going to be doing Triple T solo next year. I totally enjoyed being on Team Crackheads this year, but as the Chief Crackhead, I think I will have nearly as much fun!

Woo-Hoo! I'm Sore ALL OVER!!

This weeks marks my return to "training." I am taking it slowly, after doing almost no exercise last week (I did swim once for about an hour; did an abs/core workout and rode my MTB for all of :30). I am going to hold back on any intensity (unless I can do it swimming, which would be rare for me any time of the year!) until I feel ready for it.

Yesterday I did a 1-hour swim drill workout. Man, do I have work to do there! Maybe I'll actually get the swim coaching I've been looking for on my third try? I tried with one guy last fall, and he bagged on me, tried again this summer, same result--maybe third time will be a charm? I would like to improve my swimming, yet I know in the big scheme of things I'd have to work really hard to see something like 1:05-1:10 in an Ironman, and maybe I don't really care--I'm not sure right now. I just believe there are a couple of things that if I can get them right, that I will get a little faster, and I don't see it happening without someone watching me critically.

I also ran for :30 yesterday. I was a little slow, but not too bad. It was pretty hot, so who knows how much of an affect that had? I ran after I lifted weights, so that my legs would be already tired out and again, I wouldn't care about my pace.

I had avoided doing any lifting on my arms because of whatever has been going on with my left elbow/grip. But I figured it out! It's not my brachioradialis, and it's also not mainly my triceps, which I suspected last week. It's my extensor radialis that's fucked up, but I've been working on it diligently for a few days and it is much improved. My triceps have taken a beating, too--I guess all those big yardage swim weeks finally got to my chicken arms?

It felt good to lift, and it feels GREAT to be sore today. I rode my MTB for about 1:30, and I have to work hard to get any speed on it, but I think I did OK. I may ride it again on Thursday, just so that when I head out on Saturday for 2:30 or so on Bitchie, I'll feel like I'm flying!

It's funny that, as is very common post-Ironman (or should I say post-NothingMan?), I've felt fat, out of shape and generally disgusting, yet both yesterday and today I received the nicest compliments from strangers on my physique. I didn't even want to write anything about it here, since I know that can make me appear narcissistic and ego-driven, but what the fuck, I am to an extent and I may as well get over it, right? So there. Anyway, it was interesting that yesterday's comment was that I was so "lucky to be blessed with such a beautiful body." I suppose I am blessed, but I felt the need to interject that it was at the expense of a lot of hard work! I could just tell this woman thought I just looked like this naturally. I didn't go into details, though. And then she proceeded to give me at least 5 reasons why she didn't have time to exercise. Oh well... Today, I was stopped at a light while on my bike, and a woman out with her young son (and pregnant with another child), commented that I am "in phenomenal shape." Well, I wasn't feeling that way, but it sure made me smile, especially since she noted that it must be as a result of a lot of work. And then she said she needed to get to it and I told her "one hour a day is all it takes," and directed her towards the Y just a 1/2 mile away when she got around to it. I love it when I can leave others who are open to it with one idea that they might try to get themselves moving around more.

Initially, I'd planned to not bike or run for 2 weeks post-NothingMan, but I think one week of almost nothing at all was a fine plan. I'm sleeping like a freaking professional sleeper (9-10 hours a night and I want them all!), and I'm not ingesting any caffeine except my morning coffee. Mentally, I'm feeling very calm and at ease. I am returning back to that state where my life is "good enough." And it's plenty good. I'm really happy I don't have another Ironman for 10 months! That in and of itself is reason to rejoice! And I know I will enjoy getting back on the training wagon.

My next triathlon-related task is to take a look at my last season and assess the good, the bad, the ugly and all that. I'm also going to look across the last few years for patterns of what works and what doesn't work for me. As always, doing the same thing generally would not create improvement, so it will be interesting to see what I can throw into the mix this time around.

One thing I know for sure--it's already different--and that is a good thing. I don't think I've taken almost a full week off completely from exercise in years! Maybe it's time for a real vacation, too. One that isn't focused on training. Damn--if I hadn't bought LGL, I could be in Kona right now!

Reflections on Nothing

Desire is the root of our suffering. We want things. We want relationships. We want experiences. We want to be thought of in a certain way (i.e., we're self-conscious). We want to know ourselves! The desire drives us to do, and we forget how to be, or worse yet, our doing generates even more desire. Even as we want this deeply intimate relationship with ourselves and with others, our desire gets in the way!

But we are human beings, so we must do some things. How then do we do them in a way that enhances our being without getting caught up in an ever larger cycle of desire?

What does it mean to be competitive yet be unconcerned with a result? How is it possible to let an entire day unfold before you, seemingly without control or purpose, and yet be physically capable of performing at your best?

How can I be silly and dangerous and lustful and competitive and eager and striving yet quiet in thought and grateful in purpose?

There is a new quality that I hope to be able to bring to my own training, once I start back at it next week, that I hope I can share with others. As much as I believe in structure and measurement and precision, there is another level I would like to move towards. I'm not sure just yet what it is; but it will be different than the past few years.

Training should be like meditation. In meditation we seek to let our thoughts and feelings unfold and be unjudged by ourselves so that we may come to know ourselves better and become more empathic. In training, shouldn't we be able to let our basic structure (training plan) and results unfold so that we become physically stronger so that when we are asking our bodies to perform in a racing situation, that we are able to fully let go and just let it happen?

Most training plans have you start with defining your goals. I want to do "X" time in "Y" race. That's nice, but that just sets you up for evaluating everything you do in terms of "X." And then when you do "Y" race, if "X" didn't happen, you are disappointed. I am going to try and focus on NOW, or at least just this next week, and see where I get. For awhile there, on this blog, I was setting weekly goals (albeit not that focused), and that was a good thing. I need to get back on that train, because instead of focusing on "X," I can focus on just the next week, and maybe I can even bring that to the next workout.

So I'm going to become a bit short-sighted now, even if I lay out a yearly plan. And then maybe I can become less judgmental about myself and enjoy more of the moments that I get to enjoy while I'm training.

For NothingMan, all I cared about was having the right clothing and enough nutrition to get through the day. Isn't that liberating? Isn't that how I should live my entire life? And then, you know what? I did just fine. Actually I didn't even evaluate myself. I just felt good. And that's how it needs to be.

Maybe this is all just a grand excuse to not work hard. But I doubt it. I think I am ready to work hard, but only because I want to WORK HARD RIGHT NOW. I refuse to have some big "X" hanging over my head.

NothingMan 2007 Report

It was only appropriate to call this NothingMan. Here is a philosophical discussion of nothing, which fits the spirit of what we did perfectly. This quote represents NothingMan perfectly: Nothing, in short, is given only in relation to what is, and even the idea of nothing requires a thinker to sustain it. If we want to encounter it an sich, we have to try harder that that.

Please also see the previous post, which partially captures how I felt during the day.

Date: Saturday, September 15, 2007

Race Fee: Nothing

Start Time: As close to 6:00AM as possible

Participants: Jostein Alvestad, Age 37. This was his first Ironman!

Sheila Plemich, Age 50. This was my 10^th Ironman.

Race Photos: On Flickr

Race Course

• Swim at Lussier Family East YMCA Pool (25-yard). Originally we had hoped to swim in Lake Wingra, but with the morning temperature predicted to be low 30’s, we opted to swim in a pool rather than risk hypothermia.
• Bike beginning at Wingra Park, southwest to Seminole Highway, then south to Whalen Road, connecting to Ironman Wisconsin bike course and completing the out and back section, 2 loops clockwise, and then back the way we came. We started here because it was where we would run, so our cars became our transition area.
• Run at Wingra Park, 59 counterclockwise loops (as measured by Jostein the week prior, using an official race course measuring device). Basically, we ran from the end of the parking lot to the Boat House along the paved path, left along the lake (now we are on grass), left along the fence and around (not up) the hill, along the white line for the soccer field, outside around the next oak tree, back on the paved bike path, left back onto the grass at the little hump, straight along a berm over one grate and a small hump filled with mushrooms, ending back at the picnic table (our aid station) closest to where we parked our cars. If you click on the Google Maps link, you can sort of trace it.

Unofficial Timing

• Swim 2.4 miles: 1:12
• Bike 104 miles: 6:35 (yes, we were a bit short of 112, but this was close enough)
• Run 26.2 miles: 5:0?—Jostein, 5:19—Sheila. This time includes stopping to add clothes as the temperature dropped, getting our flashlights when it got dark, busting open some glow necklaces and putting them on, potty breaks, stopping to count beads on our necklaces and miscellaneous stoppages.
• Elapsed Time: 16 hours on the nose. Why? Driving, setting up bikes, stopping for fluids and food, a few phone calls, putting away bikes, several full costume changes, setting up run transition, and generally not being in any hurry.

The Swim

I drove up to Verona on Friday, staying at the Super 8 where I had stayed the week before for Ironman Wisconsin spectating. Jostein drove up Saturday morning and had breakfast at Denny’s before driving to the Y, where I met him at about 5:30AM. It was 34 degrees outside, and we got out of our cars and hugged and began talking and getting psyched. Mostly, we wanted to get started.

Jostein had bought Under Armor and a skeleton Halloween costume thing and combined the two into a costume that he would wear while cycling, and he modeled it for me. I was totally impressed! While I had thought about doing something similarly silly, I opted not to, but I was so happy Jostein had done so.

We moseyed over near the entrance at about 5:55 waiting for the doors to open. There was a girl at the front desk that didn’t look too happy. Meanwhile, Jostein and I are bouncing off the walls outside because we are loaded with calories and ready to hit it! We both noticed that the clock inside was slow by a couple of minutes.

Finally, they let us in. I had my Y pass from back home, so there was no issue with me getting in, and I figured they’d let me guest Jostein in. But an older woman came over and said he couldn’t get in, and I don’t remember exactly what I did, but I got a bit emotional because they had to let him in, you know? I would have cried if it became necessary. Later in the day while biking, Jostein said I was pretty convincing. At that point, we didn’t really have other options, so I guess some rules were bent, Jostein paid $12 and we were in.

We got on the pool deck, took a few pictures, and I looked at Jostein and asked him if he’d beat me up a bit because otherwise it wouldn’t feel like an Ironman swim. He knew what I meant, and we both laughed, but we had nothing to do, so we both got in the water, and I said, “Ready? GO!” And that was it, and we were swimming. The lanes at this pool were double wides, so it was almost like swimming in open water. We had told the lifeguard that we’d be swimming 2.4 miles straight—not sure why—mostly, I guess so that he would keep others away from us. He told us that there wouldn’t be anything going on for a few hours, so no worries.

All I remember from the swim is that it seemed to go faster than any other time I’ve swum the entire distance. I felt completely at ease, totally inside my own head, and I didn’t have any stray thoughts about getting hit or kicked, about other stupid chores I had to do, about the fact that it was pretty cold out and we were going to be riding our bikes. Nothing! I just counted laps and kept going. My left arm was a little bothersome (brachioradialis strain, if you must know), as it has been for about 4 weeks now, but I don’t think it affected my stroke. Not like I have a great stroke anyway! But I felt good in the water, and didn’t feel at all labored.

Jostein stopped a few times to sip from a water bottle, and I thought he was laughing at me, but maybe not. I didn’t want to stop, because, well, why would I? Finally, he was done (I expected him to finish well ahead of me), and I had 100 yds. to go, or so I thought. I don’t know if I counted properly or not. Jostein said I overdid it. At any rate, we agreed that our time was 1:12. That’s the fastest I’ve swum the distance in 2 years! But no time to be excited—we needed to get our transition on.

T1

We had brought our cycling clothes into the Y so we could get completely dry before heading back out into the cold. We threw our swim stuff into our cars and took off, Jostein leading the way. He used to live in the Madison area, so he wanted to take a back route to get to Wingra Park. It was a nice, scenic route around Lake Monona, and I smiled thinking about the actual Ironman course. It was a crystal clear sky and the winds were calm, and it was really a beautiful day, albeit chilly.

We arrived at Wingra Park and began preparing our bikes and our remaining gear for the trip. I decided I’d wear my Giordana jacket I’d bought specifically for a cycling trip next spring instead of the windbreaker, as it was still quite cold, but I stuck with my Castelli wind stopper gloves instead of the thicker gloves I had brought along. The Castelli gloves turned out to be perfect. I’m happy I got a chance to test out some gear in colder conditions, since I know I’ll be facing them next February at the Tour of California. I wore my Pearl Izumi beanie under my helmet, and PI tights and booties. I was pretty much a moving Pearl Izumi ad. I believe it was in the low 40’s when we were about ready to go.

Jostein completed his skeleton outfit with a mask and complete foot bones over his booties! As you can see in the photos, he was quite the sight!

The Bike

We took off at 8:45 (for a 1:15 T1 time) and we got a little bit lost, but good thing I’m a girl and not afraid to ask for directions. I asked a local guy how to get to Seminole, and turns out we were very close, so we got back on track and began our ride. It seemed like right away we were climbing. Jostein was wearing the mask initially, and I got a kick out of watching oncoming traffic craning their necks to look at him! I had told Jostein to plan on about 7 hours of riding time. He had ridden the loop of the IMWI course once around, and I found out en route that this would be his first 100+ mile ride!

I felt really heavy on my bike because I was carrying 2 bottles of Infinit plus 2 extra bottles of water in my jacket and a third on the seat tube and just all the clothing I had on. But, there was nothing to do about it but keep going.

Our first official stop was at the Kwik Trip in Mount Horeb. I just needed to refill my water bottle, but Jostein bought some food and offered me some chocolate and string cheese. Turns out that was a good thing! At the slow speed we were going and the fact that we were spending extra transition time and refueling time and the cool temperatures, it made sense to eat regular food in addition to our on-bike fluids. We both looked forward to the next section of the course which is relatively fun—Witte and Garfoot Roads—and it was. It was a bit odd to be out there with almost no other cyclists. Every other time I’ve been in Wisconsin this year there have been tons of them. It just added to the spirit of NothingMan.

We both agreed that the most beautiful vista of the day was while on Garfoot just after Mineral Point before the big drop. From there you can see the big valley stretched out on your right, and with a cloudless, cool day and all the rain they had had in the last few weeks, it was absolutely stunning, with the blue sky, the green grass and the yellow of the corn!

In Cross Plains, Jostein mentioned there was a new bike shop opening, and it’s called Uphill Grind, because it’s also a coffee shop, and we decided we wanted to stop there on our second loop for some espresso if they were open. It always helps to have things to look forward to, even while doing nothing!

When we were about to turn left onto Stagecoach Road, I was in front and there was a big truck behind us, but I thought I could make the turn, so I yelled at Jostein, “I’m GOING!” and I made the turn and heard the truck blare his horn. Jostein waited, and when he caught up to me he told me how close I had cut it, but I just had no sense of it and didn’t even have thoughts like, “Gee I should feel bad or scared about it,” because there was no sense in it, and I was still alive and we needed to keep riding.

The “crap,” as I like to call it (the succession of the 3 major climbs of the loop—Old Sauk Pass, Timber Lane/Bitch Hill and Midtown Road) weren’t that bad on the first loop. I had timed those climbs back in July, and when you know something really only takes a few minutes, it allows you to just relax into it. Plus I had the compact crank put on the Griffen, so I was able to just about spin up all 3 of them.

The first time through Timber Lane, we spotted some deer about to cross the road just past the jumping deer road sign! For all the times I’ve ridden this course, I have never seen deer. But there they were! They just stood there, as if they were waiting for us to pass. We both tried to get our phones out, but we fumbled with all the gear and stuff and didn’t get a picture off before the deer bounded across the road. 4 of them.

When we got to the intersection of North Nine Mound and Cross Country in Verona, my friend, Dino, who lives in Madison, called. He said he’d come out and meet us, riding the loop backwards and then joining up with us for awhile. As we continued talking and Dino kept asking me where we’d be at what time, I got a little bit tired of trying to figure it out, so I told Dino to figure it out himself and that we needed to get back on our bikes riding. At that point, I had no sense of time or math, and as happy as I was to talk to Dino, I guess I was just in my own little world with Jostein and didn’t care about anyone else. We were doing just fine without support or spectators so far.

See, there had been other people who had said they were going to come out and maybe ride part way with us or hang out for the run or whatever, but they didn’t. Jostein and I really didn’t care—in fact, a few times during the day, we were happy there was no one else to answer to! It just would have complicated things, much like Dino trying to get me to figure out how long we were going to take to get from Point A to Point B.

When we got back to downtown Verona, we stopped at the Hometown Junction park on the Military Ridge Trail to get some more water. We spent a few minutes chatting with a couple and their 2 young children who were cycling and camping. The little boy, who appeared to be no older than 8, seemed to know quite a bit about bikes, as he was commenting about Jostein’s disk wheel and he knew what tri spoke wheels are. We told them we were doing an Ironman, and I think even if a person knows what the distances are, it still sounds sort of crazy that you are just out doing it without the benefit of race support. On a cold day, all bundled up. At this point, it was maybe 50 degrees?

We soldiered on, and when we reached the turn off of Paoli Road, where you begin climbing again, I told Jostein that I always evaluate how I feel right there. I didn’t feel bad at all—a bit worn, but not bad, and my next mental goal was making it back to Mount Horeb. The stretch of Hwy G seemed to go a bit quicker on the second loop, even though the wind was picking up. 92 seemed boring the second time around. Neither one of us was able to stay aero as much as we liked because of the seams in our tights causing issues in the crotch area. Note to self: get some cycling tights with the pad built in!

The climb to Mount Horeb wasn’t bad the second time around, as it meant we’d have a nice break at the Kwik Trip. This time, I had a hankering for a turkey sandwich, so I got one for each of us, and we sat down in the sun to eat and talk. I remember sitting there, but not much about what we talked about, because, well, the day was about moving, not talking and sitting. Eventually, we got back on our bikes to enjoy Witte and Garfoot Roads one more time.

At this point, I was waving or flipping off parts of the course as we would pass through, since no matter how you slice it, the IMWI bike course is not easy if you ride the whole thing. Especially on a cold day. Especially when it’s windy. Witte Road wasn’t quite as much fun the second time around because we had a cross wind, but I sort of like cross winds, and I didn’t mind that my bike was sailing all over the road, since there wasn’t much traffic. And no other cyclists! It was like we had the whole place to ourselves, except when a car would pass.

I think it was about here that I began noticing an abundance of red cars. There was a Badger game that day, and while we were driving to Wingra Park at 8 something AM, we could see people tailgating already and bars firing up grills and kegs. So I guess I was noticing stuff that was red, and there were a lot of red cars. And people wearing red clothing.

The second time on Garfoot Road before the drop, I again said hi to the golden retriever that was laying in the front yard of the house on the right. I call him Buddy. He was in the exact same spot on the second loop as the first! Each time as I passed, I yelled, “Hi, Buddy!” to him and he just looked at me without even getting motivated to get up and pretend to chase.

When we got to Cross Plains, we saw cars parked outside Uphill Grind, so, in the mood for espresso, we stopped and went in. Well, the place was open, but not really open for business. The espresso machine was on the floor. What the heck, though, we stayed and chatted with the owners, and one young man was particularly enchanted to speak with us. I’m pretty sure both Jostein and I had motor mouths going. In retrospect, it would be entertaining to have our conversations recorded. Initially, the dude thought we were just riding the loop once, but then we said no, twice, and then we added not only that but the full Ironman course, and then we added that we swam 2.4 miles first and blah, blah, blah. I think even we couldn’t believe what we were doing that day and didn’t want to get ahead of ourselves. Eventually, we had to get going, because Dino was going to catch us and we didn’t want him to miss us because we were inside this bike shop!

As we were making our way towards the “crap,” I began wondering when/where Dino would find us. I was hoping he had to go down Old Sauk Pass so that he’d have to climb it with us! Well, we climbed it without him and then we saw him just before the turn onto Timber Lane. I think I told Dino he was lucky that he didn’t have to climb up Old Sauk, and he said something like he was happy he found us before he did! My guess is that he just stopped there and waited for us…

All 3 of us now climbed up Timber/Bitch Hill. It sucked the second time around, but again, mentally knowing it was short and that there was only one more stinking climb to do, it wasn’t that bad, but Dino dropped back, and Jostein and I rode ahead and Dino came back and showed us that he had a tire about ready to blow, and that he was heading back home down Mineral Point Road. OK, no worries, Jostein and I are fine by ourselves (as we had been all day), so we said goodbye to Dino and just kept going.

Midtown Road was where I really started to feel my legs not being too happy, but remembering back to the first time I did Ironman Wisconsin and I ended up walking up part of it, since that time I have never walked my bike while out there riding, and today was no exception. Plus, I knew that this was the last major climb, and then we’d get to Shady Oak (my favorite road on the course) and then we weren’t too long from finishing.

When we got to the intersection of Shady Oak and County PD to make the left-hand turn, Jostein was ahead of me and turned ahead of a long string of cars! This time I thought HE had cut it close, and I waited for about 5 cars to pass. When I caught back up to him, he said it was just an old lady who was afraid of cyclists (she had blared her horn just like the truck had done to me about 40 miles earlier). It was just weird that neither of us seemed phased by anything. OK, by nothing.

One last stop at Hometown Junction in Verona for water and we are heading back to Wingra Park. On the way back on Seminole, we saw a few groups of cyclists who appeared to be out for a nice afternoon ride. At that time, it was in the upper 50’s (allegedly), and pretty nice out. Jostein was still sporting bones all over his body, so he continued to draw stares from everybody!

As we got closer to finishing, we commented to one another that we’d be happy to run, as is now usually the case for me in an Ironman. Not that I’m much of a runner—just that it’d be nice to get off my bike, especially since my crotch wasn’t feeling all that great. Surprisingly, though, my feet never did hurt, and they were pretty toasty all day inside my booties. My arms were a bit sore from not riding in the aero position as much as I’d have liked. So all that would be fixed by getting off the bike.

T2

Again, we were in no hurry, as we had to put our bikes back in our cars, get our coolers out with our run nutrition, and do some clothing adjustments. Jostein left on his skeleton kit. I changed out of my cycling shorts and tights, donning a fresh pair of tights to run in. I had thought I’d change shirts, but the air was chilly, so I left on my skin-tight black shirt. Jostein said he’d keep gloves on, and initially I didn’t think I’d need any, but I had brought pink gloves to match my pink running shorts, so I put them on, and I was comfortable. I think I looked sort of like Minnie Mouse!

Jostein gave me my lap-counting necklace—he told me how proud his older son was to make them for us and how he counted out the 59 candy beads! I was really glad to have this device, because I don’t know how I could have kept track of the 59 laps, which is funny considering I didn’t have trouble counting to 168 in the pool!

I wasn’t looking at my watch, but Jostein commented that we were starting to run right at 5:00PM, which was fine, since I figured we’d be done by 10:00PM (or at least I would be done—I figured Jostein would be a lot faster than me).

The Run

There was no, “OK, GO” or anything like that—when we were both finished setting up, we just started running. My legs felt the effort of the ride, but other than that, I just wanted to get the show on the road. We had agreed we would run our own pace, and after a few laps and knowing about how long they were, I figured I could do 5 hours, maybe a bit less. When we started out, there were various people in the park doing their things.

We ran on mostly grass, and some of it was rather tall, and I think this slowed me down, even though it was soft. It also forced me to pick up my feet rather than doing my normal Ironman shuffle, so I suppose it was good. I think the circle thing got to me after about 1:30, as I got into my head that I only wanted to run for 3 hours. I even told Jostein I only wanted to run for 3 hours. Good thing he didn’t give in to my stupidity.

After about 2:20, what I figured out was that my black top was compressing my belly too much and making me feel bad, so during my second potty stop (in the Boat House—during the daylight I actually used the real bathroom!), I rolled it up so my belly was no longer compressed, and then a few laps later, I felt fine, caught up to Jostein (who had lapped me a few times), and he said he was going the distance, so right then and there I said I was, too.

I think the first time we did an unofficial “beads remaining” count (and we had to come to a dead stop to do it), Jostein had about 24 and I had 26 or something, but we agreed he had lapped me probably 3 times, so we figured Jostein had forgotten to eat one, so he did that, and then we began running together, which was great.

I remember Jostein telling me that at one point when he was running by himself that a man asked him what we were doing, and the young man said he was autistic and also had Asperger’s syndrome, and that he had been counting our laps for awhile. So I guess we had one unofficial spectator at that point! Later on, when we were running together, there were 2 women who I think had been out sailing on Lake Wingra, and they began clapping for us and cheering. I think one or the other of us had told them we were running a marathon. Then there was a guy on a bike who had closed down the Boat House, and we told him what we were doing, and he told us he’d take pictures of us the next day, but we said we wouldn’t be there, and he just told us we were doing great. So I guess if you include our brief stint with Dino, we sort of had 5 spectators. I can only imagine what some of the other people in Wingra Park were thinking as they saw us continuing to run laps, especially the way Jostein and I were dressed with these silly necklaces.

At this point, it all becomes a giant blur, but it’s good because we are running together and getting it done. As it got colder, we each stopped to go to our cars and put on more clothing. Jostein added a jacket, and I added a short sleeve shirt and felt fine. Then it got dark, and we needed to get our flashlights.

Now here’s something I’d never done—run around in the dark with a flashlight on grass that was lumpy! It was all part of the adventure! At some point, Jostein told me that everything hurt, and if it was light out I am sure you’d see that I smiled at that point, and said something like, “I know.” Yeah, it hurts, it’s supposed to hurt, and I knew it would hurt, but too bad. It was funny that even running mostly on grass that it hurt. I noticed at one point that my legs really hurt, and then they didn’t hurt so much later on. We talked about how the aches and pains would come and go and even move around. But once we had made that commitment to finish all 59 laps (whenever that was), we were going to keep going. Since I had learned about some other extreme endurance stuff that Jostein had done in the past, I had no concerns about his ability to finish this. I knew he knew that I knew he could do it.

At some point, we talked about whether I would do my 3 laps on my own or not. I knew I had to, and for some strange reason I looked forward to them. As the beads slowly whittled down to 4 laps to go for Jostein, that’s when I think I stopped feeling any pain whatsoever. We had both talked about (at some point—remember, now it’s all a big blur) how there were many times during the day when it felt like an out of body experience. Looking back, it didn’t really feel all that physical except for the moments when the legs ached on and off during the run. It just felt like this pure experience, this moving through time. It’s tough to explain, but it was really great. It was like that sensation I usually only get during an Ironman marathon, except it was all day.

On Jostein’s last lap, I had a flash that I should say something to him when he was done, but in the spirit of nothing, when we got back to the picnic table, I hugged him, and said, “Congratulations! Gimme your flashlight!” And he was done, and now I had 2 lights, and immediately I decided I was not walking the last 3 laps (about 1.5 miles), and I took off and I just ran—probably faster than I had run since the first hour. All I could think at this point was, “Make it stop,” and that the only way it would stop would be to finish the 3 laps as quickly as possible. Not that I was in any pain—I truly wasn’t—but I was ready to be done.

While I was running those last 3 laps, it was pretty surreal. I didn’t have thoughts like, “Why the hell am I doing this?” or “What’s the meaning of this?” I didn’t need any reasons all day except one: Because I choose to. I did think that there is something different about me (and Jostein) than other endurance athletes for choosing to do it this way, and maybe it was a bit extreme, but I know personally and know of other endurance freaks who go way beyond what we were doing. So I just kept perspective that for me, this was something different, and I did achieve a new mental state, and I found it to be quite good. I don’t think this means I will go chasing after something even more profound or more awakening, but then again, I never know. Years ago I said I’d never run a marathon…all I can say right now is that I have zero concerns or fears of anything, and it’s a wonderful feeling. At some level, I needed to do this—to really find out if what I have professed as my love of endurance sports is pure, and I think it is.

And then, almost as quickly as it had started, it was over. I got a hug from Jostein, and we decided what to do next. He had to drive home, but I insisted he eat something substantial, because, well, he would be hungry while driving home. He showed me his blackened big toe, which was quite the sight. I knew I had my usual blister on my right pinkie and adjacent toes. My feet were cold, as after the sun had set the grass got wet, and well, it was just cold. Our ending temperature was about 45 degrees.

We went to Laurel Tavern, had cheeseburgers, a few photos, and then Jostein left to drive home, and I headed back to my hotel in Verona. On the drive back, I felt this really nice inner peace and cracked a smile. Not a smile of pride—just one of “gee that was pretty cool.” I felt really proud of Jostein for having gone the distance his first time and very thankful that he was right there with me all day. Hell—he drove up in the morning, did an Ironman and drove home. Now that is endurance!

In a way, I felt like I should have said, “YOU ARE AN IRONMAN!” to Jostein, but in the spirit of NothingMan, I never did. Someone had left a small plush pony in a purse and some baby toy thing on the picnic table where we had our run aid station, and we decided that Jostein would take the baby toy, since he has a young baby, and I got the pony.

All these words here are but a fleeting representation of what Jostein and I did. Any of you readers who know us, ask us to describe it in person sometime. I have a feeling all you will get is a big smile.

I can’t wait to watch Jostein do Ironman Wisconsin next year. It will be easy for him!

NothingMan--Initial Thoughts

While I sit here debating on whether or not to write a report, I will leave you with this:

Smith: Why, Mr. Anderson, why? Why, why do you do it? Why, why get up? Why keep fighting? Do you believe you're fighting for something, for more than your survival? Can you tell me what it is, do you even know? Is it freedom or truth, perhaps peace - could it be for love? Illusions, Mr. Anderson, vagaries of perception. Temporary constructs of a feeble human intellect trying desperately to justify an existence that is without meaning or purpose. And all of them as artificial as the Matrix itself. Although, only a human mind could invent something as insipid as love. You must be able to see it, Mr. Anderson, you must know it by now! You can't win, it's pointless to keep fighting! Why, Mr. Anderson, why, why do you persist?

Neo: Because I choose to.

And that is the only reason I can give for doing NothingMan.

Think about it—would you, could you do an Ironman if you had no competition, no spectators, no volunteers, and the only thing you would walk away with was your own inner satisfaction that you had done it? No t-shirt, no medal, no corporate logo souvenirs, no online results. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with doing organized races. Sometimes I just question the reasons people give for doing them in the first place, and at some level I needed to prove to myself that it’s not about any of that external stuff to me.

The End of Nothing

Fucking A. We did it. OK, so the bike leg was a bit short (104 vs. 112), but we swam the full 2.4 miles and ran a marathon. I can't believe we did it. NothingMan goes down as the most extreme thing I've done. But for Jostein--today was his first 100 mile or more ride and his first Ironman. I told him I was happy to help.

Time to lay down and try to sleep. Will post pics tomorrow, and the report will take a few days, as it will be a collaborative effort.

Shit, It's COLD!

34 here in Madison area this morning. On the plus side, there is no wind. I think it's a good call that we are swimming in a pool. I don't care what the lake temperature is--the surface would be too cold for me!

It's predicted to be 45 by 9AM. Holy blue lips, Batman! I don't think I've ever been on my bike in those temperatures. Let's hope my cold weather gear does the trick.

I didn't even take my bike out of my car last night. Or my swim gear. Or my bike gear. Or my run gear. Hmmmmm....maybe we should have called this non-event "CarMan" or "AutoMan." "BackseatMan."

Nah...NothingMan it is. Stay tuned!

The Beginning of Nothing

Photo documentary here; check in tonight for updates once I get to Verona and then either really late tomorrow or Sunday morning or whenever I get to it for during and post-race updates.

For those of you reading about NothingMan for the first time, me and a friend are doing a self-supported Ironman distance training day tomorrow in the Madison area. Since it is going to be rather chilly, we will most likely swim in a YMCA pool starting at 6AM rather than in Lake Wingra. I am concerned about starting my day in a state of hypothermia and near darkness! While the lake may still be in the upper 60's, the air temperature will only be in the 30's in the morning, and if we weren't doing a full Ironman, that would be fine, but I think the pool will be the better option.

We'll bike from Wingra Park, making our way to the IMWI bike course and completing that, ending back at Wingra Park. I will have all my bike nutrition with me on the bike at the start, but will need to stop periodically for water, since I'm using concentrated Infinit.

For the run, Jostein (my NothingMan teammate? Not sure what to call him except crazy like me) measured out a loop in Wingra Park, that we will complete 59 times in order to achieve the marathon distance. It's on grass, so that will be really nice. He bought us candy necklaces so that we can eat one "bead" each lap to keep track of where we are. Jostein will finish before me, so it will be interesting to see if I decide to go the full distance or not. Something tells me I will, because, well, I should.

Jostein is even nuttier than me. He's a fireman, and will be driving up north late tonight, getting in around midnight or so. Hopefully he can crash for 4 hours before we start the day!

My car is packed up except for the coolers that will hold my bike and run nutrition (all liquid) and assorted other drinks I will need today through Sunday.

This is the first time ever that I am doing an Ironman that I am not completely sure I can finish, but that's part of the fun, isn't it? I messed up my recovery from IMLP somewhat, not to mention my mental state hasn't been ideal lately. But, I have had some good to great training rides and runs since IMLP, and I have to believe I have the endurance to go the distance. We won't be racing at all; Jostein is much faster than me, but we will mostly stick together through the bike.

We had extended an invitation to people via Slowtwitch to come join us to swim, bike or run with us or just watch, but it looks like that isn't happening, which I guess makes this even a bit more hardcore. So it's just me and Jostein toughing it out for a day.

OK, I need to shower and get driving so that I can stretch and relax for the rest of the day. Good thing I've been sleeping a ton this week, since I doubt I will sleep too well tonight, even though I truly don't feel the usual pre-Ironman excitement.

Oh--there will be no online coverage, no timing chips, no official photographer, in the spirit of "nothing." Like I said, whatever pics we get (I'm pretty good at conning strangers into taking pics) I'll post up and update my blog, but that's about it. We're not doing this as a stunt or for publicity or anything.

Peace out until Verona!