Inspire

Just a fun fact. The little prince makes his return to the ranch tomorrow. Mainly to terrorize swimmers, and tear up all the plants in my flower beds. I’m looking forward to it. I attached a picture. I think he looks very distinguished and well behaved. I have a feeling looks will be deceiving when he returns home from puppy college.

Anyway, this weekend a friend of mine got married, and I had to wear a tux. I felt much like a dog in a sweater. Ever seen a dog in a sweater? He’s not happy about wearing it, and I wasn’t too keen on wearing my tux either. Anyway, I ran into a kid I went to high school with. We visited, and his girlfriend walked up. He introduced me as “a guy I went to High School with. I took his sister to homecoming. He took me to pick out my first tie. I still have that tie.” Honestly, I had completely forgotten about that. But it was cool to be reminded that he kept that tie, and it was how I would be remembered in his mind. This little exchange got me thinking about inspiration. You would think being at a wedding would get me thinking about marriage. No dice. I can commit to Ironman training, but have little interest in life commitment. What does that mean? (Paging Dr. Freud…) Back to my thoughts on inspiration.
What is it like to inspire? Is it more inspirational to motivate people through speech, or to lead people through your actions? Is it inspirational if people live vicariously through you? How do you inspire people? Do you inspire people? I pondered this while cutting the grass. Thank goodness cutting the grass only takes an hour. I’d hate to see what I would think up if I had more time.
I came up with just living is to inspire. Live a life where you can wake up every morning, and look yourself in the eye with dignity, and tackle the day as it comes at you. Little snippets of goodness and inspiration will happen without you even knowing. The funny thing is, you probably don’t see yourself as inspirational. I don’t. But its true. If you’re reading this, chances are that you are some way tied to endurance sports (or you’re a stalker. And if you’re a hot lady stalker, I’ll warn you that my girl ENM can fight. But maybe we can make a Pay-Per-View out of it?) Anyway, my point is that the way you live life is inspiring. No need to be cheesy and get in peoples’ faces about motivation and “getting out there”. Just live. Exist. Pass a kind word every now and again. The smallest compiments you give could be the most inspiration someone has in a week. I know I was a bit down and doubtful this week about my condition for Cajunman, but I got a little boost when an elder statesman of triathlon around here (who looks eerily like Antonio Banderas), told me I was rockin’ my pool workout. He pry doesn’t remember saying anything, but it got me through my puke style swim set.
Before you run off to inspire the world, or blow this blog off as crap, just take a minute to reflect on the people you may have inspired. The people that have started exercise since meeting you, or asking about your races, training, or what is new on the horizon. Think about those people that you may have helped do their first 5k, triathlon, or even marathon. Think about the people you may have inspired to go back to school, pursue a dream, take on the world. There’s a lot of people in this world, and a lot of opportunity. Live, laugh, love. But most importantly, Carpe Diem.
As for Carpe Diem, congrats to my boy BTrumps. He mentored his friend through the Pocatello marathon in Idaho. Something about Idaho and picturesque doesn’t go together in my head, but I think the residents of Idaho do that on purpose so not everyone moves there. But every picture I’ve seen is awesome. Also on the theme of Carpe Diem, Cajunman is this weekend. 1st, 10th, or 40th overall. The result isn’t the victory, but me finally having the huevos to put out to the public that I’m going “All in” for this race. Win or Lose, go as fast as possible for the 800m/20mi/5k triathlon. Hopefully I turn up all Aces….

Thanks for reading.

Lane 4, until the run at least...

A buddy of mine and I have a saying we use when talking about workouts. His daughter is a superstar swimmer at a Div. I school, so he’s down with the swimmer lingo. So anytime he or I have a good workout or race, we say “I was in lane 4 today.” Which in swimmer talk is good, cause the fastest qualifier for the finals gets lane 4. So that explains the title a bit. Onto the race recap.
The return to short course racing was a fun, yet painful experience. We packed up the truck (literally, since my dad’s truck had a bunch of stuff in the bed, the jet fighter sat in my lap for an hour) and headed up to Lake Providence for the Cotton States race. We get there, and all is well and good. I was in the 2nd wave, and figured that the winner would come from the 1st wave, so I asked my dad to start his watch as soon as the first guy from that wave came in off the bike. I figured with the 5min gap, I could adjust as I needed to try and win the race. I had really kicked around the idea of going old school on this race, and rockin’ out the man bra (aka Manzierre) and a Speedo. At the end of the day, I chickened out and went with the Manzierre and some DeSoto shorts. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, as I would have been trumped. Some dude rolled up in a Speedo, compression Under armor long sleeve shirt tucked into the Speedo, and a snorkel for the swim. Really, I can’t make this up. Good thing that dude was in the 1st wave, because it gave me at least 4 minutes to laugh before having to start swimming. The swim was good, mainly because the bulk of my group started WAY to the left of me. The only thing I could figure is either someone behind me farted in the water and scared everyone away, or that group knew something I didn’t. Anyway, the gun goes off, and I start swimming typical me style, way too hard to start. When I get to the turn around, I thought we had to swim over a bit and then come back. Nope, out/back swim. So I played that off, and started back to shore. Now I’ll say with some certainty that this race was definitely the first race (and possibly the only race ever) where I led my wave out of the water. It was strange. Anyway, to the bike. The ladies’ who run the race set up a very cool transition area. It was ITU style, in that it was just a long line of bikes. It made me feel cool for .5 seconds as I pretended I was a pro. This was the first race on the jet fighter, as well as the first race with a new aero helmet I got. Wasn’t sure how it was all gonna go. After we got past the first 5 miles of pavement, which was about as smooth as an old farm road, wait it was an old farm road, everything smoothed out and I got somewhat of a rhythm. The disc sounded so cool, and that shark fin bottle was so sweet looking, that I didn’t think the shark fin doubled as a water bottle. Plus, somehow I convinced myself that 1:15:00 or so of all-out, on the rivet effort was short enough that I didn’t need any calories. I never claimed to be the smartest kid. Came in off the bike and felt great. My dad shouted, “3 and a half minutes!” Perfect, I thought. I’ve got a 1.5 minute cushion for the run. Maybe I should just run solid, and play it safe. Nope, not today. That voice in my head (who I’ve since fired for being stupid) somehow convinced me to try and catch that first guy, in the first wave. Yeah, you only need to make up 3.5 minutes….in 3.1 miles. “Hello, McFly?!!” So I tore out of transition on a blistering pace. My 1st mile was in the neighborhood of 5:30. Then the wheels on the bus came off. The rest of the run was, well let’s just say that it got about as ugly as Lindsay Lohan’s mug shot. In the end it all worked out, though. I finished up in 2nd place, about a minute off the winner. And I got a cool Cotton bale award, and all I really wanted was a big cotton bale. See Cotton States has some of the coolest trophies in the Triathlon world. Cotton Bales for awards. So cool. And why the “Dopers Suck” wristband in the picture, you ask? Well, I wore my shirt that matches the wristband before and after the race. Just my way of saying that I’m racing clean, and I think even age group guys who cheat should get kicked by a horse. Anyway, it was a great time and a fun race. I’ll be going back next year, as it is definitely a race worth doing. What did I learn from the wonderful world of super speed, super sprint triathlons? Well, since the race I’ve been working on pacing a bit more and drinking every time on the bike. Some rookies never learn….

Thanks for reading.

All dressed up...

With somewhere to go, apparently. I spent most of last night putting the Jet fighter together for my first race since Couer d' Alene. Should be interesting, but I'm pretty sure its gonna be painful. Cotton States, in picturesque Lake Providence is where I'm headed. Someone said I was looking all over the state to find races I could do well at. Truthfully, I knew my girlfriend would be moving her stuff this weekend, so I scheduled this race as far away as possible so I didn't have to help. Shady, I know. Anyway, I'm actually excited to get back out there and race. It's nice to break up the monotony of training with a race or two. Plus, it will be a good rehersal for Cajunman. They say racing is a test of will. I agree, and its a good time to see if all that money you spent on aero trinkets was really worth it. Now that the Jet fighter is all dressed up and ready for Prom, I lay awake at night debating between the Manzierre (man bra tri top) and shorts (Just like Faris), or bringing back the onesy, aka Sausage suit. Decisions, decisions... I was hoping Lake Providence would have a little temperature break, but it seems like the weather there is hotter than it is here. Shame on me for using logic to think the further away from the equator I was, the cooler it would be. Best case senario is that I'll do really well at the race, and my mom will cook an awesome meal for me at their lake house. Worst case senario is that I'll get my teeth kicked in at the race, and my mom will cook an awesome meal for me at their lake house. Sounds like a win, win to me too. I'll be back next week with all of the gory details of my race. But before I leave, I'll share a quick glimpse into my life. A guy emailed me with some training questions. Pretty standard. But what wasn't standard was the domain name of this guy's email address. It was (your name)@justice.com How cool is that? Justice. What do you do for a living, sir? I work for Justice. Personally, I think the guy is a superhero in disguise. Not only does he work for justice, but he wears a suit to work, just like Clark Kent... My only question is, "Does the Justice.com company have any openings?"

Thanks for reading....

Belief, with a dash of Hope (for flavor)

I go back to a little scene that I saw on a run one day. Three kids were playing in a ditch (imagine that, kids playing in a ditch in South Louisiana) filled with water. Each kid took a turn going to the edge of the road, building up their courage, and trying to run as fast as they could and jump over the water-filled ditch. What’s so special about that, you ask? Well, before each of the ankle biters tried this daredevil feat, they screamed, “I believe I can fly!” And the funny thing is that I could tell that each of them genuinely believed if they just ran fast enough, and things fell just right, human flight was well within reach.
Why do I tell you this story? Because I want to know at what age did we have to trade in our superhero’s costume (mine was Batman) for a pair of khaki’s and a polo, and trade in our dreams of extraordinary for the plight of mediocrity? Why can’t we as adults dream the impossible dream? When was that fateful day that I screamed, “I believe I can fly!” and one of my friends/associates looked at me and replied, “Get off the crack, dude. No one can fly.” Or was it a self-realization that I need to give up the dream, as the disappointment of possible failure could be too much for me to bear? And once that first dream is shattered, what happens to the rest of our dreams? Do we suppress them in the backs of our minds, as the sting of failure is too fresh and too painful to relive. And then after a while, we give up and don’t have any more new dreams. We just accept the defeat, and slip into the ever-growing line of lost and timid souls who settle for mediocrity. And I’m not referring to the lucky, or gifted few that we always hear “realized their dream” or made it through repeated hardship. I’m just talking about enabling ourselves to go back to the playground, back to the field, back to the ditch, and stick to the convictions of our dreams. To chase something, anything, with the same passion and vigor that once dominated our young lives. To embrace the ideal that we, no matter what the odds or consequences we faced, with whatever gifts and talents we’ve been given, could do something extraordinary. To accept the knowledge that deep inside every person lies an extraordinary dream; a passion that wants to explode out into the world, and excommunicate any ideas of conformity or acceptance of mediocrity.
As I sit here, and think about the belief of those little kids, and seeing a good friend realize his dream of going to Ironman Hawaii, I think about hope. Hope is a powerful emotion, and is almost inseparable from belief. Maybe the worst case scenario is that you don’t realize your dream. Its bases loaded, 2 outs, game is tied, and you strike out. You go all in with a flush, and the house has 4 aces. You take your shot at extraordinary and miss. But what about the hope that you’ve given others through your fight? What about other people who you’ve met and interacted with throughout your years of dream chasing, whom you’ve inspired to chase their dream. Maybe it’s like a domino effect. Maybe that person you’ve inspired inspires 2 more people. And maybe, if it all goes on long enough, we’ll have a world of inspired people that go out and go for it, chase the impossible dream, believe again that they are capable of great and mighty things. And if we’re lucky, we’ll find ourselves back at the ditch, believing that we too can fly….

Thanks for reading.

You'll never lose that one in the Transition rack!

All this bad boy needs now is some spinners....

Warriors and cowards

I'll only spend a minute on the cowards. Vino, Rasmussen, you are ruining pro cycling. Newsflash, Vino. The country of Kazakhstan sponsors you. For Pete's sake, your team kit's colors are the national colors, as well as the country's symbol proudly displayed on the front of your shirt. Do you think you'll ever be able to go home again? You were a national hero, a hard-nosed, everyman of cycling. I sure hope that this is all a big misunderstanding, or that the stitches in both knees somehow messed with the blood test. Or maybe you did need a transfusion with all the blood you lost. Let's not forget also that this is the same lab that screwed up Landis' results (read the book, I won't explain). Anyway, I want to believe you, but if you did do this, shame on you. You've set fire to your own house. As one of the Patron's in the peloton, you have now marked this beautiful sport for extinction. And it is a shame, as there was not a cooler story than a country backing their son for glory of professional bike racing, and for Kazakhstan. As for Rasmussen, you sir are a turd. I never liked you since the first time I heard about your antics with making mechanics' shave .4 grams off of your bike. Now you're a smuggler, too? In America, we call smugglers' Pirates. Or if you are in Italy, Il Pirata. You remember the last Pirate of the Peloton? Yeah, he's dead. Keep messing with blood boosting agents, and "conveniently" getting lost in Mexico. You are a theif, as you shouldn't have been allowed to start the tour, and are stealing it from Contador, Evans, Sastre and Leipheimer. I hope Denmark not only kicks you off of the National team, but also revokes your citizenship. Ride for the Mexican national team, then we'll see how talented you really are.

Ok, onto warriors. KSP, Ken St. Pe' for those watching at home, qualified for Ironman Hawaii this weekend. In short, I'm proud of that kid. Maybe he needs a Fulltriathlonracing kit to wear in Kona. For real, if you see him around, be sure to congratulate him. It's not just the race, its this guy's continued pursuit of excellence, and his constant focus on making himself and others better. By my count, the last male from Lafayette to get his ticket to Kona stamped? 1999, Charles Brenke. (Yes, I know 2 VERY talented young ladies went to Kona recently. I am not snubbing them). So KSP, it is a special moment indeed. I want my KSP autograph to read, "Thanks for letting me beat the crap out of you every Gurzi session, and every bike ride." And kids, if you want to know the secret of KSP's success, ask him about his patented "St. Pe' Superbrick." It's the magic bullet.

And yes, rumor mills are swirling. My ride, as Xhibit would say, has officially been "Pimped." Gaudy paint, 27" black and silver rims, this baby has it all. Pics to come later. So if you are interested in my BBQ pit (aka 2005 Cervelo P3SL, size 55), drop me a line. She could be up for sale.

Hopefully there is some dignity left in the Tour, and we see some beautiful Spanish trouncing tomorrow when Rasmussen is destroyed by Contador (or anyone, for that matter). I'll watch with baited breath, and an unwavering hope like a kid that refuses to give up on Santa Claus that some rider's in this Tour are still racing on courage and effort, with no artificial colors or flavors.

Thanks for reading....

Simplicity (or Race Cars and Candy Bars if that's cooler)

Forgive me if I jump around. I’ve been writing this Blog entry in my head since we got in the RV for the trip back to Louisiana. I think it was during my fifth different article in Triathlete magazine telling me the perfect race taper, or how I should schedule my long course nutrition, that this Blog entry started to manifest itself in the ole’ noggin of mine. It’s about simplicity. It was re-emphasized when I met with a friend of mine to help him with a training plan for an upcoming Half Ironman. We visited for about an hour, and I just kinda downloaded my thoughts, ideas, and biases for success at that distance. At the end of the meeting, he was appreciative, but I think he was waiting for more information. Like a workout that would give him an advantage, or something I did that was completely revolutionary or unorthodox, and produced results. How do I know? Because at the end of the meeting, he said, “So, that’s it?” Yep, that’s it. And basically, what I told him is what I follow, “Beat yourself up, rest, and repeat.” About as technical as it gets is the Power meter, and that’s only a basis from day to day so I can see if I am shelled or not. My favorite answer of the day was to the question, “How hard do I go on the bike?” I simply said, “Go as hard as you need to so that your vision starts to get blotchy.” Simple enough, I guess. But not so simple to implement, as I have a tendency to shy away from working myself so hard that stuff goes on the fritz. I’d love to know how swimmers do it daily.
I’ve tried to extend this simplicity theory in everything that I do. Take only what I need to work, and the camp, without hauling around 15 things “Just in case”. Simple nutrition, and trying to follow the JQ diet of “If God didn’t make it, I don’t eat it.” Once again, easy to understand, but hard to implement. Why? Because I, like most people, crave complexity. We love the technical aspect of things, and we equate hard to understand with cutting edge, and ultimately complexity is immediately associated with better. I’ve followed Gordo Byrn (www.gordoworld.com) and his blog for quite some time. I would always laugh when reading about his training because his advice was so vanilla. I thought it was too easy, too straightforward. He had to be keeping something a secret. Good thing I’ve saved most of the blogs on my computer, as I’ve gone back and re-read them. It’s as if I’m reading these things with the super-cool 3D glasses this time. More stuff makes sense, or maybe it makes more sense because I’m not trying to muddy things up with complexity. Go hard, go easy. And if all else fails, just get out the door and go.
Keeping with the theme of simple and complex, I read Floyd Landis’ book, Positively False. I say simple, because Floyd is a simple dude, and this book is very simple to read. The complexity comes in with his positive test for the Testerone/Epitest ratio during Stage 17 of last year’s tour. Whether you think he is guilty or innocent, you owe it to yourself to read the book. I have always felt that cyclists’ are misrepresented with anti-doping measures, and the UCI prosecutes riders even before they have a chance for a trial in the court of public opinion. Even if Floyd loses his arbitration case, hopefully the rights of professional cyclists’ changes for the better. These guys work too hard, and sacrifice too much to be just tossed aside in the name of being politically correct. Now granted, I do understand that this is Floyd’s side of the story, so some stuff will be biased and slanted toward his point of view, but there is some pretty good evidence that points to his innocence. Especially the difference in what constitutes a positive test in different countries. Ok, I’ve said too much. Go read the book. And if you want to reach further into the conspiracy bag, watch the movie, “V for Vendetta” before you read the book. A great movie, and appropriate for the time and state that our world is in right now. Some of the parallels are a bit scary.
Next on the read list is “Walden”. I might need some strong coffee to get through this one though, from what I’m told.

Thanks for reading…