Girl Power 2012

Woke up early for a trip to NOLA. Girl Power 2012. An all-women Super Sprint Triathlon. Several of the local girls went as their first or almost-first triathlon: Allison, Beth. Cheri, Nancy, Peggy, Randi, and Shannon. 650 registered competitors. Indoor swim: 300 meters (6 laps). 10 mile bike turned into 8 miles due to standing water on the course. And a 2 mile run.

Never just WATCHED an event before. Was interesting to see people going through the motions, rather than being a part of the chaos. Enlightened by observing everyone swim. Remembering my first race (Traditions in 2011) and how my face never entered the water. So ineffective and slow. How I gassed out mid-way and attempted to backstroke for a while. Reinforced the critical importance of good form. Minimizing drag. Minimizing effort. Conserving energy.  None of which entered my mind last year, but haunts my thoughts these days.

Overall, great event. Some complaints about the course, mainly due to weather. I think all the girls broke personal records. And many of them ranked well in their groups. Proud of all of them and happy to support their efforts. The first for most of them, but hopefully not their last.

70.3 Training - Week 3

Still making constant improvements on running. My main focus, actually. Because my complete suckification at running. It's always been an albatross around my neck. So I'm aggressively sticking to the plan.
Luke suggested a couple of changes which have seriously helped me and done wonders for my confidence. He says no matter what pace I run, or the length of the run, do intervals: 5min run, 1min walk. And take water with me. Those changes have made all the difference! Mentally I can tell myself, "You're only running for five minutes!" And then I get a break. Swish some of the water in my mouth. Take a sip. Control my breathing. Then tell myself I'm doing great and have plenty of energy left.

Been running at night. Nearly naked. Just the running shorts and my shoes. A pale, sweaty werewolf jogging through the neighborhood in the dark hours, trying not to scare small children. Much cooler that way. And I don't care who sees me. Though I'm rarely seen. Sometimes only one or two cars pass me the whole time. But it is an interesting change, for me. Proud of  myself, but I'm probably a horror to behold.

This week's long run was supposed to be an hour and forty five minutes. I was doing PRETTY well. Lots of energy, not much woe, very little talk from the lizard trying to derail me. But an hour into it I started getting hungry. And then a half hour later, it started raining. Didn't want to risk getting my phone wet, so I headed back to the house. Ended up doing 90 minutes and 9 miles. Another PR!

Program is working. Gaining new confidence each day. If I can do 9 miles, I can do 13! Just pace myself. Fuel myself. And keep focused. Couple of week, I'll make it through my first half Ironman. Beware, the Thundergod!

70.3 Training - Week 2

Luke finalized my training schedule. Starts off tough. Ends tough. I've been running 10K (6 miles) without dying. Usually takes over an hour. But this new schedule started off with a bang: my long run last night was 90 minutes. And I went over eight miles. A new Personal Record (PR) for a solo run!

Didn't die. Didn't collapse. And the next day, I was sore, but not crippled. Last I attempted such a distance by myself, I only went 4 miles and destroyed my shins. I didn't run again for over a month.

 

Swimming has been good. I've already trained enough so that a mile is no problem and 1.2 is doable during an event. Thankfully, two years into it, I have muscle memory and don't really "think" about swimming any more. It just sorta happens.

 

Biking isn't bad. On a bad day, I'm above 18MPH. On a good day, a little over 19MPH. I've done two hours before without any problems. I'm usually doing at least one these days. But won't be long before I'm doing two hours at a time, maybe even three.

 

Happy with the results so far. I think it is trimming off some of my babyfat, too! I feel thinner. I think I look thinner in the midsection. Not going to hop on a scale and ruin it, though! Maybe I'll weigh in before the event. But not any time soon. It's just a number, anyway.

 

 

70.3 Training - Week 1

On the heels of my first Olympic distance triathlon, I've been giving serious thought to: what is next? I've done Sprints. I've done 5K runs. I've done metric century rides. And I finished Rocketman without puking, crying, drowning, or otherwise dying. Thus I find myself asking: what is next?

One logical, but challenging answer is a 70.3. Often called, "a half." Or, better yet, "a half Ironman." Usually somewhere along the lines of: a 1.2 mile swim, 56 mile bike, and 13.1 mile run. Somewhere around seven hours of effort (at my pace) at a cost of between seven thousand and ten thousand calories.

A half Ironman is like nothing I've ever attempted or done before. In fact, I've tried (and failed!) to train for a half marathon (the 13.1 mile run portion of the show!) and ended up injuring myself pretty badly. But I've had a really good season this year, learned from my previous mistakes, I'm much better with my training and nutrition. So I think I can do it, but where?

Turns out that in early November there is a new 70.3 a couple of hours east of here, in New Roads, LA: the River Roux Triathlon. It's the right distances and far enough in the future that I can focus on training my individual weaknesses between now and then.

So I talked to Luke. He is putting a plan together for me. I will train for the next 8 weeks, focusing on my run, then attempt my first 70.3 on November 10th. In the meanwhile, I've been sticking to my previous training schedule and looking forward to kicking it up a notch.

My First Kick

For 9/11, I did something new. Give my first kick. On Kickstarter. To SunVolt: a portable solar power station. Nice little panel. Could charge multiple items. Can use it when I'm training, or on a long trip. Plus it helps out an inventor who never would have been able to bring an item to market on his own.

Long day. Need the karma. Skipped swimming due to a financial fight. Had a lovely disagreement whilst working. And projects kept me late, missing my ride.

Good thoughts. Good thoughts. Good thoughts.And microfunding for SunVolt!

Gotta be some silver lining to these dark clouds. Somewhere.

TOOL: Gerber Crucial F.A.S.T.

I've been a huge fan of my Leatherman Skeletool. We've been inseparable. Four years and counting. Served me well the whole time.

But I have a confession. I've been cheating. I picked up a new tool. A cute little piece of kit from Gerber. Their Crucial F.A.S.T. multitool. And, man oh man, is she a keeper!

The good stuff: smaller, lighter, very easy to open one handed (thanks to the Forward Action Spring Technology powering the blade) and quite nice on the eyes.

The bad stuff: I'm not in love with the actual blade. Sure, it pops out like lightning, but it isn't the most fierce-some thing and doesn't have much heft to it.

As a minimalist, I like the bounty of functionality in a small form factor. And I like the aesthetics. Quick, clean, and sleek. But as a testosterone drenched knuckle dragger, I need something potent and aggressive. Not sure if Crucial F.A.S.T. will be able to keep up with me in the long term, but I'm going to put her through her paces. If the relationship doesn't work, I can always go back to the Ol' Faithful Skeletool.

Whole Wheat Poboy!

I made it more than forty years without seeing a whole wheat poboy! Saw a co-worker order one. And asked for an exact copy of it for myself. Delicious and filling and full of awesomeness. Won't be long before I order another one.

Rocketman Training #6

Another day. Another event to train. Another personal record.

Early morning swim. Felt strong. Felt energized. And pushed through to 40 laps. 2000 meters. Non-stop.

If I'm not ready for Rocketman at this point, I never will be.

Rocketman Training #5

Couple of rest days. Felt good today. Great, even! Anxious for more.

So I did a light run. Only four miles. (When I'm facing six this weekend.) But a personal record for my efforts. 38:57 all together. 4 miles x 9:44 each. I've never been able to get below ten minutes. Until today. And I'm pretty sure I had at least one, if not two, more in me. Good good good run.

Only took two years to get my legs under me...

Pub Grub For Two

It should be easier to be happy. And yet people have to work at it. Create something new between them. When their old happiness dies. Maybe I'm myopic and prejudiced. But I think I try harder. More often.

Like tonight. I called, all spontaneous, and said to meet me for dinner and a drink. Just something quick. And easy. A couple of rounds at the local pub. Margaritas for her. Pints of Woodchuck por moi. We ate some plates of Korean BBQ. And a divey Irish spin on kimchi.

I think it went well. The bbq was well prepared and tasty. Kimchi was interesting, but not my favorite. And drinks are hard to get wrong. So that was my attempt. Reaching for happiness. Maybe it worked. Maybe it didn't. But I tried. That much, I know.

Exhausting

Being me is exhausting. The training. The job. The children. The wife. The car with its broken air conditioner. The dog. The forty-something year old house. And all these damn ideas and aspirations slamming through my head like cold, uncaring missiles. I don't know which part abrades me the most. But today, it was the whole fatherhood piece. Liam going apeshit sideways on me. Blowing up and proclaiming his intent to depart as soon as humanly possible. Telling his mother to shutup and go to her room. And the ensuing punishment.

That's what I hate the most. Having to police somebody's action and issue punitive repercussions. It should be easy. Everyone should work together to be happy. As a group. But then somebody goes off kilter, and I have to be the bad cop. And that shit is exhausting.

Eventually, Liam calmed down. Returned to normal. And went to bed early. Molly guarding him from evil ol' Daddy. Bad cop. Villain in our tale. But it is the path I chose. And I'll see it to its end. Guard dog or no. I've got the biggest bite in the house.

Rocketman Training #4

I've actually been training for several weeks. Months even. Culminated today with a full practice brick of all three events: swim, bike, run.

Trained with Luke, and Tish, and JG. One of many training events for them as they're getting ready for a half Ironman in October. And their distances lined up with mine very nicely: 1 mile swim, 2hr bike, and 40min run.

Started at 0700. Sunrise on Robinwood Lake. Good swim. Four continuous laps. A new record for me. Taking my time. Pacing myself. Didn't feel dead at the end. All good.

Biking went well. At least the first 24 miles. I averaged 18.9MPH. Slight improvement over my normal 18.7MPH. An hour and sixteen minutes. The last 45minutes, I covered another twelve and a half miles. Final total: 36.5 miles in two hours.

Running wasn't good. Four miles in 49 minutes. 12 minute miles, yuck! Still, all told, I burned at least 3600 calories, according to my tracker. I think it was that much on the run alone!

But here's what I did wrong:

• I lifted heavy yesterday. Back & Biceps. Felt it almost the entire run.
• I didn't hydrate yesterday. Normally, I drink 60+ oz of G2 the day before a big event
• I ran out of Gu. Took my last one an hour into the bike ride. Should have had one more at the end of the ride, to fuel for the run.
• No water during the run. Brutal heat. Pounding sunlight. I had to stop three times to scrounge water from faucets in the front of people's yard. Hot hot hot!

Next week: I won't lift after Thursday, I'll hydrate the day before the race, I'll have PLENTY of Gu, there will be water available on the run, and I'll wear a visor to block the sun.

A couple of light workouts this week, but nothing stressful. If I'm not ready for Rocketman now, it is too late for improvements. It's do it or die trying, now.

Sleepover

Cindy painted Meg's room today. A stunning shade of purple. Excellent job, too. Everyone is quite happy. Except for the fumes. Poor Meg couldn't sleep in her own room. So there was something of a sleepover, in the front room, on the new couch.

Starting at the top left corner, with the arrow pointing to the right, it's Liam. Moving clockwise, first arrow pointing down, it's Cindy. Below her, Meg. And on the left, Molly.

Room for me, if everyone squeezed close!

Maybe next time?

Extenuating Circumstances

I like to think of myself as flexible. Not a stickler for little, unimportant details.

But I do like my plans. My schedule of events. And I really dislike when they're completely disrupted by extenuating circumstances.

So my car decides to die last night. In slow, cruel stages. Didn't like cranking up in the morning, but did. Barely cranked after work. A trip to O'Reilly's to check the battery, and it cranked no more. "You only got four volts," the lad says. "Charge it over night," He proceeds to sell me a $20 trickle charger. Then jump starts my car. And off I go.

Only the trickle charger didn't charge anything. The car was COMPLETELY dead this morning. Had to summon the MiL (Gigi) to take the kids to school. Then wait for Cindy to get home because I could use her car to fetch a replacement battery.

"If it is dead, we'll replace it," says a new lad at O'Reilly's.

"It's dead now," I says.

"But we need to test it before we can replace it."

"You need a coroner? It's dead, dude."

"I know," he says. "But we have to test it. And to test it, we have to charge it."

"How long does that take?"

"About an hour."

"An hour?!?"

"Yeah, because it's dead."

"..."

An hour later.

"Okay," he says. "It's dead."

And I get the corpse swapped out. Except... not for free. It was one month (ONE MONTH!) outside the warranty. They did pro-rate it. And for $35, I received a replacement.

After installing it, the car started right up. No more extenuating circumstances...

Her Reality

I'm not fascinated by the political affiliation of this shirt wearer.

I'm not fascinated by the gender or economic strata of this shirt wearer.

I'm fascinated that all the things written on her shirt are true, in her reality. That she holds those words to be truths. That they are battle cries in her private war against the forces of Socialism and Fascist Obamacare. 

I'm fascinated that anyone, anywhere could believe Obama's departure will magically produce the following results:

• Sixteen trillion dollars will magically fly into the Federal treasury and we'll be able to pay off six decades of accrued debt.
• No future presidents will ever make use of Czars.
• 105,000,000 Americans will be re-employed .
• Too Big To Fail businesses will be allowed to fail.
• Homeowners who have not paid their mortgages will not have to give up their unpaid homes.
• Gasoline prices will decided they've been too high too long and return themselves to $1.25/gallon.
• $84,000,000,000 worth of mortgages held by Freddie & Fannie will be forgiven so that those two organizations can close down quickly and quietly.
• All the Muslims will decide their dreams of freedom and justice in America were just false, hollow promises, so they'll go on a one-way pilgrimage back to the Holy Land. 
• And all these things coming true will make this a better, freer, happier country, like it was before Obama self-elected himself.

Somewhere, the Founding Fathers weep. And if it were not so damn funny, I'd weep, too.

Rocketman Training #3

30 mile bike ride. First time I've ridden in the dark. Not the first time I've ridden in the rain. Rarely easy to  ride after a long day at work. But we do what we have to do in order to make our goals a reality. And mine includes an Olympic Distance event in less than two weeks. So I chase my dragon: rain or shine, night or day.

Rocketman Training #2

Two weeks from today, I'll be recovering. Torn between so many emotions: eager to be done, nervous with anticipation, confidence with my training thus far, fear of failing. Probably only get worse as the day moves closer. Poor ol' Jon, all aboard his emotional rollercoaster ride.

Surprised I feel so well after my swim yesterday. Slight protest from my right shoulder. But a coat of biofreeze worked the usual miracles. And I had a good lift in the gym this morning. Then tonight's run. Oh, the run...

New personal record: 5.1 miles. Never tried that distance alone. Wasn't pretty. Wasn't fast. And I pity anyone down wind of me. But I did it. And I did the last mile shirtless. Aside from swimming, I don't think I've been shirtless in public in my adult life. And here I am: middle-aged man, running through my neighborhood, sweating like a stank, furry boar.

Life is good for the Digital Redneck.

Rocketman Training #1

Another Sunday at Robinwood. Usual crowd. Usual adventure. Accomplished a new personal record. Six laps. Upwards of 2640 meters. 1.6 miles, maybe?

Followed it up with a ride, all by my lonesome. Dislike riding alone. But had to get in my miles. Only two more weeks of Rocketman training left. No more excuses. The event draws near.

No records on the bike today. But I put in almost 20 miles. 18.7MPH average. And it will have to do for now.

The Problem

I live in the fattest state in the union. Five years running. Maybe six by now. 34.4% of my fellow Mississippians are obese. And I'm not sure I understand the cause of the problem.

Honey Boo Boo Is America

TLC held an enormous mirror up to the face of America last night. And in our bright national reflection we beheld: Honey Boo Boo. 

The over-weight, over-talkative, would-be pagent star from McIntyre, GA, ranted and danced her way across the screen in tonight's premeire episodes. The motto of the night: "We're not rednecks," repeated like an anthem, with most of their dialog only discernable through gratuitous use of subtitles

"We're not rednecks," Mom says while cutting up then cooking roadkill recently scraped off the street.

"We're not rednecks," says the unwed-but-pregnant oldest sister, her BabyDaddy's identity a mystery for later episodes.

"We're not rednecks," another sister, this one clad in a rebel-flag bikinni top, drunkenly hollers before belly flopping into a mud pit strategically placed at the end of the Redneck Pride march. 

And TRUE rednecks would certainly never hop their daughter up on home brewed "Go-Go Juice" (a combination of Mountain Dew & Red Bull) before she goes on stage at a pagent. They know fifteen Pixie Sticks just don't do it for her. They tried that. No go, there. So the completely non-redneck adults give Honey Boo Boo a 20oz of "Go-Go Juice" then set her loose upon the world.

Honey Boo Boo is America writ small: Slow. Cranky. Unintelligible. Sitting around the house eating "Fat Cakes." Squeeling heinously in chorus with our pet pot bellied pig (that is actually male but we dress it up like its female!) And taking long draws of Go-Go Juice just to keep us conscious enough to make it through the delerious tedium of our sweltering summer days.

Thank you, TLC. That was a refreshing little wake-up call. Now pass the roadkill jerky!