The Irony of Sport

Why? If I didn't know better I would assume that I was going crazy. If I didn't know FOR A FACT that I was not the only one, I would think I'd lost my mind.

It hit me. Just last night. As I sat in my bathtub, clad in naught but a threadbare speedo, fighting off the chills that coursed through my body every time I shifted my position. Yes, I was in an ice bath. After a very solid weekend of training I had decided to give my legs a "treat" and jump in an ice bath Sunday night. My battered muscles may have appreciated the generous offer but the rest of me wasn't so sure. It was as I sat there contemplating the amount of training I'd been doing which had left me for the most part exhausted, that I realized the absurdity of my situation. Here I was, a perfectly sound, normal, healthy young man, rising at ridiculous hours every morning to go beat his body into shape. Not just shape mind you, but GOOD shape. No, I can't just stop at being "in shape" I have to be better, stronger, faster. No performance is good enough. There is always room for improvement.

And then I realized something else. Not only was I taking pride in the amount of pain I could inflict on myself. But I was paying someone else to TELL me how to inflict more pain on myself!! Crazy!!

And yet, I am not alone. Sadly there are more poor souls out there just like me. There are in fact thousands of us possessed by this strange force that compels us to push ourselves to the limit. Day in, and day out. Some of them they call pro's, some age-groupers, some mom, dad, uncle, boss, friend. It doesn't really matter what we're called. But we're out there, and our numbers are growing every day. Scary, isn't it?

Life as It Is

Wow. The weather is absolutely GORGEOUS outside. Mornings in the 50's? I haven't seen that for like 10 months. Going to 6 am swim practice now requires me to completely bundle up before braving the frigid tempatures that welcome me when I open the door. Today it was also sunny as well, the kind of day that makes you just glad to be alive. After swimming and weight training I was running around 8:15 am in just my shorts and a sleeveless shirt. I was down right COLD for the first 10 minutes or so. In fact I don't think my hands ever completely warmed up. They just got to that sort of numb state where you don't notice them until you stop running and realize their not bending properly anymore. It was beautiful.

My last post contained details concerning the mudrun this year, well those details have changed. The date is no longer October 27th but instead November 10th. I repeat- THE MUDRUN IS ON NOVEMBER 10TH! For some reason, (They say due to homeland security issues) it is no longer being held at the joint reserve base but at some trail in Fort Worth. They promise that the course will be very similar. I'm keeping my fingers crossed as I have a secret ambition to win the thing this year, as long as I can get in the first wave.

I'm looking now at half the school semester being over. It's a good feeling. Tomorrow I take my last midterm so I will get a bit of a break after that. I'm continueing to train. (Of course) My main focus has shifted to swimming, especially after a dismal time at the Toyota US Open. I am too embarressed to even admit it. Nonetheless my spirit is not quenched and I'm determined to swim on. Five mornings a week you can catch me at the Landry Center, grinding up and down the lane as the coaches scream at me to go faster. Ok no one's screaming but grinding is an appropriate term to describe the sound my shoulder makes whenever we incorporate pull into the workout. The DAM coaches seem to have a special affinity to pull as somehow they always manage to sneak at least one pull set into the workout.

Here's to looking forward to an AWESOME rest day tomorrow!

It's The Most Wonderful Time of The Year

Well sports fans it's that time of year again. Yesssiirrreee. Time again for the annual Marine Mudrun out at Carswell Joint Reserve Station in Fort Worth, Texas. On October 27th some of the crazies, wackiest, and must diehard of all athletes will gather from around the metroplex to test their might against the boot-camp style course of mud and obstacles.

A 10k doesn't sound too bad to most runner/tri enthusiast but let me tell you- a 10k while wearing long pants and boots that are laden with muddy water right from the get go is tough. This will by my third year running it and it once again looks like the east side of town will be bringing a sizeable representation out west. I estimate anywhere from 5 to a dozen or more people could be caravaning out with me come mudrun morning.

Many have loved the initial idea but we'll see who actually gets online and puts down their credit card number for the entry fee. Its only 25 bucks and you will feel 100% better after doing it. Garauntee. Go to http://www.mudrundfw.com/ for more info.

What to do

So I'm faced with a dilemma. I have a race this weekend. I want to do well and look good but it's definitely not as important a race as worlds or nationals. I have a clothing decision to make.

One choice is small, tight, spandex, red and blue, emblazoned with TEAM USA across the front, and much more revealing concerning ALL parts of my anatomy.

The other choice is bigger, looser, still spandex, black and red, emblazoned across the front with my name, the ITU logo, USA, and ICON ONE, my last name is tattooed across the butt. It has a back zipper, and is much more professional and most definitely less revealing.

The problem irks me. My mind cannot rest as it tussles with the matter at hand. Should I hold true to the ideals of old schoolism, stand for what I believe, and proudly bear the chaffing wounds to prove it? Or should I conform to the wave of professionalism in our sport? Embracing all that is modest, comfortable, and cool.

What to do, what to do...

Attack of the mad triathlete

Ouch. Crit racing hurts.

Thats pretty much my conclusion from this last weekend of mixing with the single sport cyclist enthuisiast this last weekend in Denton, Texas.

For the uninformed Wikipedia provides a very accurate definition of crit racing:

A criterium, or crit, is a type of bike race held on a short course (usually less than 5 km), often run on closed-off city centre streets. ...Events often have prizes (called primes, usually cash) for winning specific intermediate laps (for instance, every 10th lap).
Success in criteriums requires a mix of good technical skills — in particular, the ability to corner rapidly and sharply — and riding safely with a large group on a short circuit and exceptional fitness to attack other riders and repeatedly accelerate hard from corners.

Yup. Thats pretty much what it consists of. I did a total of 3 races. 1 on Saturday, and 2 on Sunday. Saturday was a junior open event including 15 miles of racing around a 1.1 mile loop. The pace was pedestrian most of the time as 2 guys had broken away and their teamates were blocking for them. Coming into the final turn everyone was strung out and I was in 7th position or so. I decided to go for it and blasted after of the curve at around 28 mph, I heard someone shout "GO Austin, GO!" as I flew by. Down the final stretch I was sitting again pushing around 32 mph, maybe a little higher. Ausin was gaining but not by enough. I crossed the line about half a bike length ahead of him for 3rd place.

On Sunday there was a junior open and a cat 4/5 race that I did. Junior open was first and this one was a rectangular course with 4 left hand turns and 2 long straights. Only 1k or 0.6 miles long. Corner #3 had some kind of chewed up road and some manholes that were a little dangerous. I placed 2nd in the junior race and got lapped in the 4/5.

About 50 people started the 4/5 race but everyone except about 15 guys got lapped. I was doing ok about 8 laps into it when going into corner #3 a guy crashed just in front and to the right of me, he came sliding at me and almost took my front wheel off. I barely missed him but the leaders, seeing their oppurtunity, punched it up the hill. I was chasing as hard as I could for about 3 or 4 laps but they stayed 10 seconds or so up on me. Finally I slowed up to get with a group of 4 guys coming up behind me. We worked pretty well together, I won a prime that they offered to us (a vest) and we finally got pulled with about 6 laps to go. Oh well. I was so wiped from both races I didn't really care. Plus I'd won myself a vest!

This weekend I'm looking forward to doing the Cinco Ranch Tri down around Houston area. Should be fun.

Jeff, Me, Ian. Waiting to start.

Cornering.

My computer is slow and these pictures are taking forever to load so I'm gonna call it quits. Ciao.

Anniversary

On this very day, just six years ago, terrorists, seeking to destroy our country and everything that we stand for hijacked four planes and crashed them into three iconic buildings of the American skyline. Just a few days after thanksgiving this year, my dad will leave to go help as we continue to search for the evil men that did this.

We have captured many of them. We have foiled many other terrorist plots. We have captured one of the most evil and dangerous dictators of this age. And yet, there is still more to do. There are still insurgents to kill, schools and hospitals to build, people to protect, a goverment to establish. There are still those who want us dead. We are the infidels. We will always be.

And so we must fight. As long as there is freedom in this world we must fight. As long as there are people that desire to abolish this freedom that we hold dear, we must fight. We must send the best that we have. Those that have volunteered to sacrifice their lives so that we can stay here at home and complain about McDonalds not giving us enough cheese on our burger.

My youth pastor's husband is a Marine. He leaves for Iraq in less then a month. He doesn't have to. He's served his time. He's earned his purple heart. But he goes to be with the young men he helped train. He won't see his men go while he stays at home. He will take his place at the front, with his men, where he belongs.

One of my closest friends leaves this week for Marine bootcamp. He doesn't know all that he is getting into it. But he's done everything he can to prepare. He's ready to serve.

My dad goes too. Twenty-four years as an Air Force Officer. We'll spend thanksgiving with him and then he will leave for training and we may not see him again until next July. He will be leading a multi-billion dollar project to rebuild the schools and hospitals in Iraq.

"Freedom isn't free." How poignant. How true.

During the Revolutionary War, Nathan Hale was a spy for the Continental army. He was a Quaker as well, Quakers are traditionally pacifists and do not believe in warfare as a proper means to resolve any conflict. At twenty-one years of age Nathan Hale was hung by the British Army for espionage. On September, 22nd 1776, as the noose was placed around his neck, his final words revealed the core of his existence. "I only regret that I have but one life to lost for my country."

When you see what terrorist want to do to this country, when you read about the men and women laying their lives on the line every day, when you watch your friends, your father, prepare to go to war; it gives you a new perspective on those famous words. It makes it all a little bit more real.

No, Freedom Isn't Free

I watched the flag pass by one day.

It fluttered in the breeze.

A young Marine saluted it,

And then he stood at ease.

I looked at him in uniform

So young, so tall, so proud,

With hair cut square and eyes alert

He'd stand out in any crowd.

I thought how many men like him

Had fallen through the years.

How many died on foreign soil?

How many mothers' tears?

How many pilots' planes shot down?

How many died at sea?

How many foxholes were soldiers' graves?

No, freedom isn't free.

I heard the sound of taps one night,

When everything was still

I listened to the bugler play

And felt a sudden chill.

I wondered just how many times

That taps had meant "Amen,"

When a flag had draped a coffin

Of a brother or a friend.

I thought of all the children,

Of the mothers and the wives,

Of fathers, sons and husbands

With interrupted lives.

I thought about a graveyard

At the bottom of the sea

Of unmarked graves in Arlington.

No, freedom isn't free.

CDR Kelly Strong, USCG (Ret).

Swingin' the Night Away

Well I think I have just about recovered from the effects of jet lag. I've just been doing so easy riding and running this week including a 3 hr ride with my Matrix buddy that had us covering only 43 miles. Yeah, I think our average was 14.3 mph.

I haven't felt great during my easy workouts but I've been trying to rest a bunch and I should be ready to go come Monday. I will probably be joining the DAM swim team this fall. (Thats Dallas Aquatic Masters for the uninformed) Hopefully swimming on a real team will help kick me in the rear and get me in the pool.

About to head out for swim swing dancing tonight. The only problem is that it usually involves a somewhat late night. Oh well. I usually try to head out by 11 or so and I have tomorrow to sleep in a little.

Good luck to all the Ironman Wisconsin participants tomorrow.