Resolution Proposal for the Original Gangstas of Fitness

We're merely weeks away from 2012.

January 1.
New Years.

Soon, the gym you know will not be the same.
You'll enter at the normal hour, and the treadmill you always use at that time will be occupied.

Flustered, you look over towards the stationary bike you sometimes use, and are frustrated to find that again, someone has dominated your usual machinery.

Glancing around the gym, the scene is the same: sweaty people fumbling with buttons on the cardio machines, constantly adjusting equipment, eyes darting around self-consciously.

Ah, yes. Resolution Season is almost here.
And this is where I throw you off.

I've been participating in endurance sports all of my life. I cannot help but notice that the further I continue on this journey of fitness, the more jaded I become. I think this happens to anyone who experiences too much in one particular area.
Been there, done that, becomes the attitude.

Most Original Gangstas in the fitness community can't help but look at the Posers with disdain and disgust.
It's not because of their weight or their appearance, it's just drastic perspective difference. People that LIVE the fitness lifestyle look forward to and enjoy their training. Resolutioners look at their workouts like a chore, and value their workout about as much as they value cleaning their toilet. This is why they last until about.... mid February at best. As long as the thought of a workout as misery prevails, fitness will not.

Maybe it's time for a change of perspective for the OGs in the fitness world. It's so easy to be a prick, sitting there glaring at the people struggling to bench a bar with no weight on it.

Instead of counting down the hours and minutes until another Resolution dream is crushed, why not look at the influx of new people in the gym as a chance to create new recruits to the army of the fit?
I think most give up because they have no idea what they are doing. Ignorance is not bliss in the gym.
Why not give some tips? Exchange email addresses if the encounter is good, and hold them accountable.

I'm not saying make a new workout partner, but shooting them an email asking how their workouts are going once in a while is enough to keep some people going...maybe enough even to get over that mid-February hump.
One winter, I did something like this, and started a running group for beginners. Some of these people are now very good friends of mine.
To see some of them now running ultras and becoming serious athletes is more rewarding than my own accomplishments.

We OGs have this foundation of knowledge from years and years of living and breathing and dreaming fitness. Why continue on this odyssey by selfishly withholding information that might otherwise make something click in someone?
Of course, motivation cannot be coached, and some people just don't want it bad enough.
However, some do. They just don't know where to start.
That's where we come in.

Happy Holidays.
Thanks for reading,

kalerp

Multi-Day Racing, Detriment?

I'm still waiting on the word from Jorge down in Mexico as to whether there will be a Deca next year.

My 2012 race plans kind of hinge on that. He says it's very difficult to talk to the government about using the Parques Des Heroes, and the wheels turn slow.

I'm kind of caught in this mind-bending scenario where I want everything.
It was easy when the only thing I wanted in life was to race.

Now that I am living civilized and paying rent, all I want to do is STOP paying rent and start owning something... Racing stays at the forefront of my brain at all times, like a money-sucking leech.
The very real idea that I am going to have to do one or the other bugs the living piss out of me, and only adds to my manic training-working-no sleeping life.
Never can I dismiss my most expensive addiction. Is this sport a detriment to me? I think of the thousands of dollars of my own money that I've put into it over the last decade, and that's a down-payment on a house.

And then I think about the night I rode from Presque Isle to Bangor on a full moon, fully able to see Mt. Katahdin from route 2 in the shadows at 2 am.
Or the all night 50 mile run at the Relay for Life, when the miles came effortlessly.
Or the time Andy talked me into the winter version of the Death Race, and I chopped wood for 8 hours, then proceeded to carry it up a mountain in the snow....without snowshoes.
Or the blurriness of racing for 5 days straight, and how after crossing the finish line, everything in your life is so much clearer...even with a sleep-deprived mind.

Experiences like these cannot be photographed. They aren't tangible. My friends are all married with kids and dogs and houses and snowmobiles. I traded all of that for hardening experiences. I'm not sure whether this is good or bad. Who is to say?

All I know is that everyday I wake up and I'm surprised to find that during the night, a gigantic pansy has taken over my body like cancer.
So everyday, I put on my shoes and administer chemo.
Time for my daily treatment.

Quintuple Iron Finish

Quintuple Iron Race Report

The Commuter

doubting the world
i exhale, in the dark

pedaling. pondering.
both require spinning

i turn down main street
storefront displays alight
empty sidewalks

stoplights blink
at no one
and oblige my right turn

a leaf crinkles
during a night breeze
a hum of rubber tires
dismissing untold miles

but the moon prevails
in silence.




krp

i run on

brush past some prickles
blood seeps out my shin
branches with icicles
mud streaks on my chin

my thoughts are gone
so i run on

the only way to derail
from this crazy train
is to get on the trail
and stop my brain

my thoughts are gone
so i run on

my feet: scuffed and tired
keep going: the only choice
must use the inner fire
and ignore the quitter voice

my thoughts are gone
so i run on

3x Iron, a Dysfunctional Family Reunion

Friday, October 7th, 2011.
It is still dark at 6:45 am and under 50 degrees.
It seems as though the sun is not going to rise today.

The start of the Virginia Triple Iron, a 7.2 mile swim, 336 mile bike, and 78 mile run, is supposed to be in 15 minutes.
Steve Kirby, Race Director, herds shivering athletes, friends, and family to the shore of Lake Anna, where a dense fog still clings to the water. We are all grouped together for a photo, and for the magnitude of such a large event looming, there isn't one straight face there. This is just one reason I am standing in line with these other whackos: No Triathlon/Cycling Geek Attitude.
This event is simply too long to take seriously. The only thing you can do is keep a good attitude and adapt to the challenges of the weekend.

We get in the water, and I slap a high five with Jaime. To the lakeside spectator, Jaime and I were just amped to be starting, but he and I knew that we were both about to just work on surviving the morning. Last year at the Double Iron, we exited the water dead last, and were expecting to probably have the same result today.

I wasn't sure about him though, as I had heard him earlier, talking about actually training for the swim this year. As for myself, I knew it wasn't going to be pretty, having not swam a stroke since May (I had been living on a mountain for work). My goal was to flop around in the water like a wounded dolphin for about 6 hours, and then start the race.

Sure enough, one and a half hours after the second to last person had come out of the water, I emerged, laughing and apologetic for having my crew sit there by the lake for an entire morning. To put things in perspective, my buddy Andy(who had been training for an English Channel swim) had broken the swim course record that same morning, and was out of the water in 2 hours, 54 minutes.

The good news was that I had stayed on top of my nutrition for six hours, and was coming out of the water with a stomach that was not unsettled. Nicole, Tina, and I walked up to the bike course, and my parents and Amy helped get me ready to sit on the bike for a long, long time.

Knowing my swim was going to be absolutely awful, I planned to make a ton of time up on the bike. I wasn't planning on trying to win the race or anything, because I knew my mountain summer had cut into my training pretty hard. I just wanted to be done by early Sunday, so I wouldn't have to deal with the hot afternoon temperatures on the run.

Friday afternoon was spent just pedaling kind of mindlessly and catching up with guys like Joe Trettel and Sauerbrey, Chris Trimmer, and meeting the new athletes to the sport. The ultra triathlon community is pretty small, so we all know each other from one race or another. It really makes these races seem less like competition and more like family reunion. There are so few people who live this lifestyle, that it's always nice to either vent to an understanding peer about the financial side of the sport, or get a tip as to how they fit the training in around "normal" life. It is a unique bond we share, and it was an honor to meet people like Frank Fumich, who has done some serious adventuring around the world, and Kathy Roche-Wallace, who completed RAAM this year.

We all seemed to be pedaling at about the same rate for most of the ride...that is, except for the other half of Team Awesome, a name which I just made up a second ago.
My family(Mom, Dad, Amy), Tina, and Nicole were not just crewing for me. We had a prior arrangement to crew for Ghislain Marechal, from France/Belgium. He was absolutely wrecking the course, lapping everyone, and breaking the bike course record in the process. He would tell me after the race that his goal was to blow the race wide apart, and it worked.
He was going so fast, that everyone else thought they were going too slow. For many, it was their first Triple. Numerous athletes either dropped from the race or dropped down to the Double Iron as a result of him.

When night fell, most people stopped riding side by side, and began the tedium of clicking off mileage in the dark, in silence.
For some reason, I rarely remember the events of the nights spent cycling in these races. It was cold.
The toll of the ride was beginning to show, and highs and lows were rearing their heads. You might pass someone pedaling at 60 rpm, lights wobbling as they tried to stay awake in the late hours of the night and early hours of the morning.

At some point just before sunup, I was absolutely frozen, and on the downhill into the turnaround, I found myself nodding off. I elected to crawl into my sleeping bag and pass out for 20 minutes or so. At this point, Ghislain and Kamil were already off the bike and waging war on the run. Needless to say, I wasn't very happy about still having a significant chunk of mileage to do on the bike. Pretty sure I wasted a lot of energy on the swim just trying to get it done.

I got back on the bike, and stayed there, secretly hoping I would find a point of ignition like I always seem to during the last miles of the bike, and be done by noon. Generally my last miles are the quickest and happiest, but this would not be so today.
By 10am, I was pissed. The sun was coming up, and I had to ditch layers of clothing, which required stopping. This irked me even more. Somewhere around noon, I still had 50ish miles to go, and the Double Iron athletes were flooding the course. I had my second meltdown in 2 hours. So bothered by still being out there pedaling, I began ignoring my crew, because I knew if I opened my mouth, anything that came out would be evil and irrational. Instead, I did the self-destruction thing, and let Mr. Hyde take over. Whereas I was ignoring my crew and wasn't eating, I was becoming erratic. Every now and then I would just take off sprinting and swearing on my bike in a temper tantrum.

Off the bike around 4pm, I pledged to the crew that the run was NOT going to go like the bike. I was going to stay positive if it killed me. Nicole ran the first 14 miles with me, and then I grabbed my Ipod and plowed through a marathon. The first 45 miles of the run went by in a blink, and it was nice to run with Amy here and there. We all watched in amazement as Kamil finished his last lap and broke the course record, finishing the race in 39 hours, 55 minutes.

For a long time, it seemed like a lot of the Triple athletes weren't even on the course. Perhaps they were crashing during the coldest part of the night?
Somewhere around the 52 mile mark, I began the early morning stagger, and elected to take a short 20 minute nap before things got bad. Attitude was still great, and I wanted to keep it that way.

Daylight came, and with it, the Virginia heat that seems to cripple me every year there. With 20ish miles to go, the heat was in furnace mode, reflecting off the pavement. I hit the port-a-potty to bag balm my problem chaffing and umm...tend to business. Ghislain had been done for a while(2nd place!) and was hanging with the crew. He and my Dad got a bright idea.
I came out of the toilet to applause and cameras everywhere. Looking above, the finisher's banner had been placed over the toilet. Everyone laughed. It was a moment of levity that was certainly needed.

Another lap or two later, I had to put my feet up, as they were swelling like crazy. In an attempt to stay positive, I exclaimed,"After this, only 8 laps to go!" My dad misinterpreted what I said and agreed. After a lap, he realized an error and corrected me on the next lap. I still had 9 to go. In these races, this is an absolute detriment to your mental status.
I chugged a Red Bull, and Mr. Hyde came out for two fast laps. Slipknot blasted in my headphones, and I went to a very dark place in my head. Other athletes tried talking to me, and I couldn't do it. Just couldn't. The only thing out of my mouth would have been just awful. I NEEDED to bring the lap count to something that was manageable in my head before I could be social again. Those 4 miles were the fastest of the whole run, over 60 miles in.
Someday, I will find a way to keep Mr. Hyde on for a whole race. There has to be a way to harness that.

I spent the next 5 laps just walking. The heat was broiling, and there was zero shade. I resigned myself to the fact that I would be walking the last few laps, and that I might just as well enjoy it. Ghislain biked alongside me for a few laps, forcing me to dump freezing water on my head. We shot the shit and laughed, while I tried not to complain too much.
He peeled off to bike alongside the legend Guy Rossi, who was running in the Double, and finally there were two laps left.
Jake Holscher's crewman picked up where Ghislain stopped. We talked about his ultra running, and the possibility of him doing this one day.

Before I knew it, I was on the last lap. The last lap of these things are always kind of cool. It's a celebration of the events, highs, and lows of the weekend. All of the Double athletes were cheering as I passed them. I said goodbye to Adam at the run turnaround, who I met in '09 here at the Triple, and started the last mile of the 78 mile run. Down the last long gradual hill, and across the shadeless false flat, I looked down to the finish and saw a small crowd gathering.

This was it. The memory of the 2009 injury and DNF could now be forever forgotten.
Grabbed the American flag, and the anthem began blaring.

Crossing the line, I finished about 7 hours slower than I hoped, but overall in a great mood. It was an awesome feeling shaking Steve's hand, and having Team Awesome be there for the photos. One of my favorite parts about having crew from all eras of my life at an event, is seeing friends of mine from different times of my life meet and become peas in a pod in just one weekend.

Thanks cannot be said enough to Amy, Nicole, Tina, and my parents, as well as Ghislain for riding alongside me at a time where I may have had another meltdown if left to my own thoughts. Just an amazing weekend.

So, to the resume, add the 2x, 3x, and 5x. Steve said it best:
"Those numbers add up to 10. Now you just have to go and do them all at once."

Word.



thanks for reading,
krp

Philosophy: Training with the Seasons and Cowboy-ing Up

I am always astounded at how much the weather of the seasons of New England perfectly match my racing schedule.

In the winter, I am drawn to the gym. Not because of the snow and ice which I actually love, but because I just feel like lifting and doing something different than I've done all year.

Spring brings about renewal for most things, including an evaluation of where I'm at mentally, which has always been a time where I decide to recommit to racing and the demands of the training.

The long days of summer give me additional time to put in the long hours necessary to complete these events. The sunny days provide energy to do so.

Fall brings a lull in daylight, and training. The cooler temperatures give me a good reason to chill out on the bike, do a little more running, and generally tone down the training load. This creates a natural taper for the big fall races.

To follow a training regimen where every workout is planned for the next year sounds awful. I tried that about 5 years ago, and it quickly grew boring. I began to not look forward to training. It became work. The gains weren't even that great.

I see these athletes training by the 10% rule and shake my head. How can you possibly make leaps and bounds increasing things at 10%? The conservative, left-brained athlete is boring... following heart rates and numbers, and letting those things dictate their next workouts.

Did you know most professional triathletes are now doing 90% or more of their rides indoors on Computrainers, where everything is measured and evaluated?
I say ignore all that shit and be reckless. One of my favorite sports stories of all time is from the 1989 Tour De France, when Greg LeMond ditched all technology and told his team NOT to give him splits in the race's final time trial, and he made up an unbelievable deficit-over 2 seconds per kilometer- winning le Tour in one of the closest races of all time.

Believe in yourself, and listen to your body. Will yourself into the fitness you want, and train with the seasons. If you've made a commitment to training and it is your lifestyle, everything else will fall into place. The season is changing right this second, just step out the door.

krp

Jekyll and Hyde go to Lake Anna

Well, it's that time of year again.
Cooler nights. Shorter days.
It can only mean one thing.
Ultra Tri season is here.

I've been on the fence for...well...all summer about going to Virginia for the Triple Iron. One day I'm in. Next day I'm not.
It all has to do with money, and I hate that. So much.

The reality is that, no matter what my situation is financially, I gotta do it.
What I achieve down there has nothing to do with being a fitness dork, nor does it have anything to do with the accomplishment of doing 3 times the distance of what many consider the pinnacle of triathlon.

It's the silence in the water, in between the coughs of Lake Anna exiting my lungs.

It's the calm and settling in of night 1, knowing that by the end of the night and the rise of the next sun, I will still be there. Pedaling. Perhaps tranquil in the gray predawn light, or maybe half asleep and full of despair, or if I'm lucky, I'll be in angry-zombie-biker- mode, clicking off fast, hard laps. Race mood swings have earned me the nickname of Jekyll and Hyde.

It's the sound of my own footsteps, rhythmic in the night, looking up the gigantic hill that looked so gradual 30 hours ago.

I need these things every fall, to remind myself why I walk out the door every day and lace up my running shoes.
Why I've made so many sacrifices in my life in pursuit of not so much fitness, but enlightenment.
The last few years, I have entered the water at Lake Anna and seen the dimension where the rules of the universe no longer apply, delving into a world of absolute weakness and absolute power.
Each time, I have exited a new and stronger person.

I don't want to race at Lake Anna.
I need to.

krp