Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Why do it?

I am often asked why I do triathlon, whether I actually enjoy something that seems so crazy to so many people, and especially why I am spending so much time training this summer. "You're going to run for fun? For how long?!" or, in the words of the rather rotund lady who saw me at the end of the Atlanta Half Marathon this past Thanksgiving (who-sorry to be judgmental-looked like she hadn't run a mile since middle school), "You be havin' fun when you doin' that?!"

Why yes, thank you, I am having fun. But it's more than that. Because frequently, let's be honest, I'm NOT having fun. I talked a little bit in previous posts about how overexertion affects mood. Ironically, I became a prime example of that myself late last week. I have already talked about my 3 hour, 47 mile, bike ride on Thursday. I knew it was a stretch for me physically, as I had not been on my bike for that kind of distance in probably a year. As such, I suffered that Friday more than I had expected to. My "easy" run and my "easy" ride that day were not fun. Did I push myself too far on the ride? Probably, at least in terms of pushing beyond boundaries and former limits. Worth it? Yes.

It's not about fun, at least not for me. Fun is a byproduct. I don't "do" fun - if you tell me to go "have fun" (i.e. if you make fun the objective), then I'll never find it. I don't know how many other people this is true for, but it is certainly true for me. So the point is not to have fun. What is it, then?

In many ways, the point is the challenge. The point is the hard way. I think it is fair to say that I can generally be pretty obstinate about doing things the hard way. (Not always, though. More times than not, I'm as lazy as the next guy.) West Point was one of these things for me - part of the appeal for me was that, of all the schools I applied to, it was going to be the hardest, most adverse environment. And it was. It took a lot for me to figure out that just because it was hard didn't make it the right place for me. At times I still feel that resigning from West Point was a kind of quitting or taking the easy way out, though everyone I have spoken with since then has assured me that the decision to leave was the tougher. I am not entirely convinced of their arguments, so I will just say that choosing a new path was rationally the right thing for me to do, and leave it at that.

Triathlon fits very well into this same vein. The sport is neither easy nor simple, and my competitive desires do not help, either. Training is controlled bodily harm undertaken to induce a stronger counter-reaction and growth/adaptation within the body. As is true of any physical activity, the training itself breaks the body down. On a tough hill climb on my bike, when my quads are burning, my calves screaming, and my lungs gasping for air, what's really happening is that my muscles are breaking. They are running out of fuel. Muscle cells are tearing apart, acid is building up, and their ability to function properly is diminished. Doesn't sound so fun, does it? Of course, at the top of the climb, and coasting down the downhill, and after the ride is over, my brain is being flooded with endorphins. Those make me happy.

Endorphins aside, the appeal of that suffering is in the victory. The "I did it" of reaching the top of the hill, finishing that long run, racing faster or farther, beating my old times, beating the clock, beating myself.

Every day I want to wake up and be better than I was yesterday. Triathlon is just one way of doing that. (All of these reading goals will hopefully help me do that in another arena of life, too.)

One of the blogs I follow posted this excerpt a while back, from Seneca's essay On Providence. I haven't gotten around to reading the whole essay yet, though it is in the Seneca collection that I have, but this selection is appropriate, so I'll leave you with it.

From On Providence, by Seneca

Success comes to the common man, and even to commonplace ability; but to triumph over the calamities and terrors of mortal life is the part of a great man only. Truly, to be always happy and to pass through life without a mental pang is to be ignorant of one half of nature. You are a great man; but how do I know it if Fortune gives you no opportunity of showing your worth? You have entered as a contestant at the Olympic games, but none other besides you; you gain the crown, the victory you do not gain. You have my congratulations - not as a brave man, but as if you had obtained the consulship or praetorship; you have enhanced your prestige. In like manner, also, I may say to a good man, if no harder circumstance has given him the opportunity whereby alone he might show the strength of his mind, “I judge you unfortunate because you have never been unfortunate; you have passed through life without an antagonist; no one will know what you can do, - not even yourself.” For if a man is to know himself, he must be tested; no one finds out what be can do except by trying. and so some men have presented themselves voluntarily to laggard misfortune, and have sought an opportunity to blazon forth their worth when it was but to pass into obscurity. Great men, I say, rejoice oft-times in adversity, as do brave soldiers in in the time of Tiberius Caesar, complaining of the scarcity of shows. “How fair an age,” he said, “has passed away!”

True worth is eager for danger and thinks rather of its goal than of what it may have to suffer, since even what it will have to suffer is a part of its glory. Warriors glory in their wounds and rejoice to display the blood spilled with luckier. Those who return from the battle unhurt may have fought as well, but the man who returns with a wound wins the greater regard. God, I say, is showing favour to those whom he wills shall achieve the highest possible virtue whenever he gives them the means of doing a courageous and brave deed, and to this end they must encounter some difficulty in life. You learn to know a pilot in a storm, a soldier in the battle-line. How can I know with what spirit you will face poverty, if you wallow in wealth? How can I know with what firmness you will face disgrace, ill fame, and public hatred, if you attain to old age amidst rounds of applause, - if a popularity attends you that is irresistible, and flows to you from a certain leaning of men’s minds? How do I know with what equanimity you would bear the loss of children, if you see around you all that you have fathered? I have heard you offering consolation to others. If you had been offering it to yourself, if you had been telling yourself not to grieve, then I might have seen your true character. Do not, I beg of you, shrink in fear from those things which the immortal gods apply like spurs, as it were, to, our souls. Disaster is Virtue’s opportunity. Justly may those be termed unhappy who are dulled by an excess of good fortune, who rest, as it were, in dead calm upon a quiet sea; whatever happens will come to them as a change.

Cruel fortune bears hardest upon the inexperienced; to the tender neck the yoke is heavy. The raw recruit turns pale at the thought of a wound, but the veteran looks undaunted upon his own gore, knowing that blood has often been the price of his victory. In like manner God hardens, reviews, and disciplines those whom he approves, whom he loves.Those, however, whom he seems to favour, whom he seems to spare, he is really keeping soft against ills to come. For you are wrong if you suppose that any one is exempt from ill. Even the man who has prospered long will have his share some day; whoever seems to have been released has only been reprieved. Why is it that God afflicts the best men with ill health, or sorrow, or some other misfortune? For the same reason that in the army the bravest men are assigned to the hazardous tasks; it is the picked soldier that a general sends to surprise the enemy by a night attack, or to reconnoitre the road, or to dislodge a garrison. Not a man of these will say as he goes, “My commander has done me an ill turn,” but instead, “He has paid me a compliment.” In like manner, all those who are called to suffer what would make cowards and poltroons weep may say, “God has deemed us worthy instruments of his purpose to discover how much human nature can endure.”

Flee luxury, flee enfeebling good fortune, from which men’s minds grow sodden, and if nothing intervenes to remind them of the common lot, they sink, as it were, into the stupor of unending drunkenness. The man who has always had glazed windows to shield him from a drought, whose feet have been kept warm by hot applications renewed from time to time, whose dining- halls have been tempered by hot air passing beneath the floor and circulating round the walls, - this man will run great risk if he is brushed by a gentle breeze. While all excesses are hurtful, the most dangerous is unlimited good fortune. It excites the brain, it evokes vain fancies in the mind, and clouds in deep fog the boundary between falsehood and truth. Would it not be better, summoning virtue’s help, to endure everlasting ill fortune than to be bursting with unlimitedand immoderate blessings? Death from starvation comes very gently, but from gorging men explode.

And so, in the case of good men the gods follow the same rule that teachers follow with their pupils; they require most effort from those of whom they have the surest hopes. Do you imagine that the Lacedaemonians hate their children when they test their mettle by lashing them in public? Their own fathers call upon them to endure bravely the blows of the whip, and ask them, though mangled and half-dead, to keep offering their wounded bodies to further wounds. Why, then, is it strange if God tries noble spirits with severity? No proof of virtue is ever mild. If we are lashed and torn by Fortune, let us bear it; it is not cruelty but a struggle, and the oftener we engage in it, the stronger we shall be. The staunchest member of the body is the one that is kept in constant use. We should offer ourselves to Fortune in order that, struggling with her, we may be hardened by her. Gradually she will make us a match for herself. Familiarity with exposure to danger will give contempt for danger. So the bodies of sailors are hardy from buffeting the sea, the hands of farmers are callous, the soldier’s muscles have the strength to hurl weapons, and the legs of a runner are nimble. In each, his staunchest member is the one that he has exercised. By enduring ills the mind attains contempt for the endurance of them; you will know what this can accomplish in our own case, if you will observe how much the peoples that are destitute and, by reason of their want, more sturdy, secure by toil.


Be better than yesterday,
Mike

Run to You

I've had a few songs cycling through my head over the past couple days, and this is one of them. Since it is running-related, in a way, I figure'd I'd throw it up here for kicks.

I Run To You - Lady Antebellum (Click for YouTube video)
I run from hate
I run from prejudice
I run from pessimists
But I run too late

I run my life
Or is it running me?
Run from my past
I run too fast
Or too slow it seems

When lies become the truth
That's when I run to you

This world keeps spinning faster
To a new disaster, so I run to you
I run to you, Baby

When it all starts coming undone
Baby, you're the only one I run to
I run to you

We run on fumes
Your life and mine
Like the sands of time
Slippin' right on through

Our love's the only truth
That's why I run to you

This world keeps spinning faster
To a new disaster, so I run to you
I run to you, Baby

When it all starts coming undone
Baby, you're the only one I run to
I run to you

Oh oh, oh I run to you

This world keeps spinning faster
To a new disaster, so I run to you
I run to you, Baby

When it all starts coming undone
Baby, you're the only one I run to
I run to you, I run to you
Yeah

Oh oh, oh I run to you
I'll run to you girl
Oh Oh

I always run to you
Run to you
Run to

Monday, June 29, 2009

Dixie Meets the Locals

I haven't been posting anything about meeting up with all the local wildlife around here because frankly it happens too frequently to even bother noting it. So far I've seen countless deer, an elk, and a small bear cub (I pedaled a little faster on seeing that one, just in case Mama Bear was around someplace). This, however, is too good not to post. There's currently a deer in the front yard, eating the grass and leaves off the tree. Dixie is sitting alertly in the front window of the house, just staring at this poor creature. I don't know that she has any idea what to make of it, but I think she'd probably like to chase it!
Staring contest, anyone?

Weekly Wrap-Up

Well, it was quite a first week here in Missoula. I closed out my weekend with the Mountain to Meadow 14-mile run, and then took it easy for the rest of Saturday and most of yesterday, only heading out for a light swim last night at Frenchtown Pond. So here's the totals:

Total training time for the week: 15:57 (definitely my biggest week ever)
Swim: 2:15, 5600 meters (yes, that's just over three miles of swimming)
Bike: 7:46, 110 miles
Run: 5:21, 27 miles
Strength: 35 min

The Mountain to Meadow run was just fantastic, if also a pretty tough run. We could not have asked for a better day. Started cool but warmed up quickly, with just enough breeze to keep from ever feeling hot. Clear, deep blue sky. Amazing scenery. Lots of uphill running. Ok, so maybe that last part wasn't so great. The race started at around 5200 feet, then dropped to 5100, then up to 5600, back down to 5100, BACK up to 5600, down to 5100 one more time, then finished with a cruel uphill climb back to the 5200 foot starting point. For a topographical map of the course with elevations marked, click HERE.

From mile 12 to mile 13 is run through a beautiful meadow filled with a local flower called camas, a tall flower, almost lavender in color, that the Native Americans used to eat. Running past it, I considered grabbing my camera and walking back to take a picture once I finished the race, but by the time I hit the finish line, the idea of walking another mile was just too much to consider. You'll have to settle for a couple of pictures I took from the Lolo Pass Visitor's Center parking lot. The visitor's center, by the way, is all of ten feet across the Idaho border, so of course there's another state welcome sign picture.
My pictures don't do the area justice, as the best views were from the middle of the run, but here's a description of the course from the website: "The run began at the Lolo Pass Visitor Center (elev. 5225) on Highway 12, at the Idaho-Montana border. Runners wound their way through 14 miles Engleman Spruce and White Pine forests, and enjoyed dramatic views of the Bitterroot Mountains in the distance. Both the 5K run and the 14-mile loop passed by Packer Meadows, a scenic and historically significant site along the Nez Perce and Lewis and Clark trails."

I'll leave you with one more picture, this one I took on Friday. This is Rattlesnake Creek, which winds its way through our neighborhood here. Alright, now it's time to start my day. Happy Monday everyone.

Friday, June 26, 2009

The Science of Triathlon and Happiness... or something like that...

I'm catching up on some of my blog reading this morning since the legs are definitely suffering from yesterday's ride. I slept until 9 which, as some of you know, is ridiculously late for me to sleep in. Fortunately today is a relatively light day, given the hard ride yesterday and the Mountain to Meadows 14 mile run tomorrow. I'll head out on a short, easy run (no more than an hour) in a little while. Then after lunch I'm thinking about heading out to Pattee Canyon for a brief hill workout.

I've been a little bit behind in keeping up with reading the blogs I follow, what with recent travel and my own training load. (You can see a list of them on the righthand side of the screen.) In any case, Gordo Byrn recently touched on the ideas of consistency and workload HERE. He especially talks about how consistency and a moderate aerobic workload lead to positive mental effects (i.e. good moods), whereas the inconsistency that comes with higher intensity training (intensity referring to "harder", not "longer") leads to frequent bad moods and a degree of manic-depressive state.

In somewhat more scientific terms: consistent and tolerable (i.e. moderate) training leads to a steady release of dopamine and endorphins to the brain, resulting in a fairly constant positive mental sensation. On the other hand, high-intensity training (what Gordo refers to as the "Red Zone" - think about a car tachometer) leads to a higher level of endorphin release in the short term, but since the intensity cannot be sustained then the endorphin levels crash (along with the exhausted, overworked body), leading to bad moods and states of depression.

I'd never thought about it this way before or deliberately made the connection between training intensity and mood, but it certainly makes sense. I can easily see, in retrospect, my moods swinging up and down depending on my workouts. This will be an interesting thing to be more deliberately congnizent of over the next few months, as it is a big part of moderating myself and my training this summer.

Goal #1: BE CONSISTENT. A good rule of thumb I've heard is the idea that you should be able to repeat 90% of the workouts you do two days in a row. If you couldn't go do the same workout again the next day, then you're going too hard. The 90% rule is in place because there are certain notable exceptions, days of intentional overreaching, where you push the limits a little bit in order to try and induce a greater level of adaptation from your body. These workouts (like the 14-mile run I'm doing this weekend) are inherently risky and require a little bit of recovery afterward, which is why they happen very infrequently and in a controlled manner, but if executed properly they can be very beneficial.

So, in honor of consistency... time to go run.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Hey Hey Mr. Policeman


Heck of a ride today. I really let 'er rip at one point, and found the (so far) top speed of the bike. Don't worry, Mom. I was on a quiet, two-lane back country road that leads out to a closed-for-the-season ski resort, so nobody was on it. But I still hit 47mph. Truth be told, I was still putting power into the pedals so I could have gone faster, but the road was getting choppy and I was running out of downhill. (Of course, if any of Montana's finest law enforcement officers ever ask me about this, I will deny deny deny... and then go brag to everyone I know that I got a speeding ticket on a bicycle!)

I think today definitely qualifies as a good day of training. Not sure if I'm going to be able to walk tomorrow, but I'll burn that bridge when I get there. The day started rather poorly. I was exhausted, slept in late, and hurt to move. I was dragging around all morning like an old, tired dog. (Unlike Dixie, who is neither old nor EVER tired.) I was scheduled for a long bike ride, a swim workout, and some strength training. Finally, after a lazy breakfast, I managed to get moving around ten thirty. "What am I doing if I'm not doing workouts?" I reasoned. After all, that's really the only reason I'm here. So I crawled out on the bike, sucked it up, and got moving. I trickled east on Broadway, which turns into MT-200 and then (later) Fas-210. For kicks, and because I'm here to not just ride my bike but ride my bike uphill, I went ahead and climbed Marshall Mountain even though I still didn't have my legs under me. Something about the uphill woke up my legs, though, and as I reached the top I felt great! It led to the best and longest ride I've had in a LONG time. I descended Marshall (18 minutes up... 5 minutes back down... I love gravity!) and continued east for another hour, ending up in the town of Clinton, MT. Then I turned around and came back, even doing Marshall a second time. The second climb was much slower than the first, but I'd been on my bike for two and a half hours at that point, so I think the slow-down is reasonable. All told, I rode 47 miles in three and a quarter hours. Not half bad. The ride was absolutely beautiful, too. It meanders through a valley between two big ridge lines.
Took these pictures at the turnaround point:
And don't it just make ya feel all warm and fuzzy inside when you are sufficiently far away from your starting point that the distance makes it onto the highway mileage signs? (Or is that just me?...)
When I got back home, suffice it to say that I did not move for a long time. I made a large recovery drink to get some protein, carbs, and fluids back in me (did I mention that it is dry out here?), and sat in our rather cold hot tub (don't ask) for a few minutes to soak my poor, battered legs. Once my lower extremities were sufficiently numb, I climbed out of the water, grabbed some lunch, then passed out in the hammock for a while.

But wait, there's more! (Wow... I feel like that TV infomercial salesman...) I still managed to get in a decent swim workout and a little bit of strength training. Total for the day: just over four hours.

Frankly, this week feels a little ridiculous. This is quite possibly my biggest week of training ever, and it's only Thursday. (At least, I think it's Thursday... I have absolutely nothing in my life with which to gauge the day of week, except for the notes I'm putting in my training diary.) Eleven and a half hours so far, with another three solid training days to go this week.

This has been a great start to the summer training, but next week will be the one that keeps me honest. Being a bit of a numbers geek, I not only keep track of training hours but graph them as well. (Note, anyone not interested in the more complicated or numbers-based side of training, just skip the graph and the following paragraph. You can keep reading after that.)
As you can see, consistency has not been my strong suit. I could occasionally achieve what passes for a decent training week with school and work, i.e. 6-8 hrs/wk, but when I did reach those numbers, the next week or two would fall off and I would get minimal training done. (Week 11 was Spring Break and my bike crash, which meant I was in the doctor's hands during weeks 12 and 13). In endurance sports, as in so many other things, the way to get better is to make small but consistent gains over time. (Though apparently Wall Street forgot about this little maxim.) In hindsight, it would have been better for me to consistently put in four hours of training a week rather than trying to up the numbers to eight hours one week and then suffering the next two weeks. The consistency would have given me solid and measured development, while the zig-zag line you see above shows cycles of training and detraining. A body loses fitness (from lack of work) faster than it gains new fitness (from work). Consistency will allow me to build on and continue improving my previously-gained fitness. The recent inconsistency meant that most of the time I was not gaining new fitness from a big training week but rather trying to regain the same level of fitness lost in the previous weeks. (For lots of good, scientific info about training and its effects, check out Alan Couzen's blog.)

Sorry if I've lost you in all the geek-speak. The long and short of all this discussion of training hours and consistency is this: Next week will let me know whether during this week I've done too much, not enough, or just right. If I'm having lots of trouble getting workouts done next week, I'm low on energy and motivation, or my body just can't find a rhythm during workouts, then I'll know I did too much this week. Knowing that, I'll do slightly less training next week, then reevaluate. Likewise, if next week I'm feeling good and finding extra energy during workouts, then I'll know I'm ready to do a little more work. Finally, if I'm tired and sore but still capable of completing workouts at the same quality level that I have this week, then I'll know that I'm in a good training spot and will keep plugging away. Of course, this process isn't really isolated week-by-week. I'm constantly evaluating how I feel and how my body is responding, then adjusting the training plans based on that feedback. Basically, although there's a general plan that I'm aiming for, it all depends on how I actually feel. After all, I'm trying to see how close I can get to the razor's edge of peak fitness without going over. Won't it be fun to watch and see how well I do? That's easy for you to say... it's not your body that will suffer if I mess all this up!

OK, enough training mumbo jumbo for now. Time to get back to my books!

P.S. - Don't be afraid to ask questions about the training or workouts or anything else. This blog is being read by a mixed bag of fellow triathletes and non-technical family and friends, so I'm trying to find a middle ground of explanation. If anyone wants a little bit of simplification, or even more technical drivel, just let me know.

Anyone else with me on this one?

Work? Or Play!

That's me at the top of Marshall Mountain, or at least as high as the road goes. It's a local ski resort just a few miles out of town. The climb itself is a decent one - 665 feet in 2.5 miles for a max elevation of just over 3900 feet. We're still working on exploring more routes to ride around here. Today I climbed Marshall and then went east out Hwy 200 for almost 15 miles, but the road turned a little choppy so I decided I'd had enough. I only went for 2 hrs and 30 miles instead of the planned 3 hrs. But considering I also ran for almost an hour and swam (poorly) for another 3o minutes, it wasn't a half-bad training day. Come to think of it, the last 3 days add up to the 3rd largest training week of my year so far! (Not sure if that says more about the quality of this week or the awfulness of my training in the previous 25 weeks...) Also, it was a beautiful day, with sunny skies and temperatures in the 80s. Genuinely HOT! Too bad the air is so dry that I don't even feel like I'm sweating. The downside is that I'm actually going through water faster than usual due to the dryness, so I'm having to be extra conscientious about hydrating.

Went to the Good Food Store again today. Awesome place. It's somewhat like a Whole Foods, only nicer, more down to earth, less self-righteous, and (slightly) cheaper. Really it's just chock-full of good, fresh food, lots of organic, lots of local-grown. I picked up zucchini, yellow squash, vidalia onion, crimini mushrooms, tomatoes, and ground pork to go with my leftover ground beef and a random box of Zatarain's New Orleans Rice Mix that I packed with me from DC (don't ask why). I diced it all up, threw it in a pot, and voila! Don't really know what to call it, but it's good. Did I mention that I'm eating the same amount as a family of four?

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"The most valuable thing of all is will, a deeply-rooted will; to will to be somebody, to achieve something; to be even now in desire that somebody, recognizable by his ideal."
-A. G. Sertillanges, The Intellectual Life

I bought a few motivational posters to decorate the bedroom walls today. Lance Armstrong, Muhammad Ali, and Steve Prefontaine. I was greatly amused by the pricing - three posters for $8... plus $17 S&H. Oh well. Still cheaper than buying them full price.

But this brings me to my other endeavor for the summer: reading. Looking back on things, I am realizing that, to misquote Samuel Clemens, I have in some ways allowed my schooling to get in the way of my education. I am starting with Sertillanges' 1920 tome (first published in French, translated to English thank goodness) The Intellectual Life: Its Spirit, Conditions, Methods. It is a primmer and preparatory book for cognizant, intellectual reading, to help me process, understand, and digest the LONG list of written works which I have long desired to read but have not yet made the time for. I will follow this book up with another of a similar bent, this one with the rather condescending title of How to Read a Book: The Classic Guide to Intelligent Reading. From there, I will descend on the box of books I brought with me. I doubt I will get to start even half of them this summer, but they're all there waiting for me. I want to re-read authors that we touched on in my political philosophy classes but who I read from the perspective of academic expediency rather than patient, critical understanding. I want to delve deeper into classical ethics, renowned Christian writers such as Aquinas, Augustine, and Lewis. I want to learn about sport psychology, leadership, rhetoric and speech development (collected speeches of Winston Churchill, anyone?), and so much more. Sure, it's a lifetime endeavor, but now seems like a good time to start.

The idea of will has been bouncing around my head frequently of late. Battling with will, finding the willpower to start, to finish. It is certainly a struggle. I am having so much fun out here, yet at the same time, it takes a great deal of willpower to get up and do the very things that I am enjoying. It took a while for me to crawl out of bed this morning and actually pull on the running shoes, grab Dixie, and make it outside. The first mile of the run was just miserable. But ten or fifteen minutes later, I find myself alone, running through a small valley, grassy hills on all sides with wildflowers popping up here and there. The highway is just one hill over, but from down there I couldn't hear a thing. Magnificent. Yet I wonder, knowing that trail was out there, knowing that the run would turn out well, why I had such a hard time getting out the door. Finding the will to start. Or this afternoon, I did not feel good about my swimming, so I stopped the workout short. I wasn't hurt, I didn't feel sick - I just didn't want to swim any more. There are reasons (or are they excuses?). I'm out of shape; I haven't swum much lately so I've lost my touch for the water; I'm still adjusting to the altitude; the pool is 50 meters long rather than the usual 25 yards, so all of my times are demoralizingly slow; the list goes on and on. Ultimately, I did not have the willpower to finish the workout this afternoon. Perhaps that was for the best and was the right decision to make this early in the game. I'm trying not to be critical of myself here, just observant. Given the training load I am undertaking this summer, my mental health is just as important as my physical health. Perhaps more so. (Thus the sports psychology books.)

On the other side of the coin, I've had equal amounts of trouble sitting down and actually starting all this reading with focus. Interesting how I am having difficulty both moving and remaining still! I'll enjoy watching how the tension between the two plays out over the next few months. Newton's first law, I guess. Perhaps this is not unlike the concepts of momentum and inertia. Each term describes the resistance of an object to a change in velocity, yet we colloquially understand momentum to imply motion and inertia to imply lack of motion. The principles nevertheless remain the same, regardless of the actual state of motion. The same seems to apply to my recent experience as well. Stopped, it is difficult to begin moving. Once active, it is difficult to stop moving.

As some guy with a skull once put it, "There's the rub..."

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Run? HA!

So "run" turns out NOT to be the operative word. I "ran" the M trail. And by "run", I mean I jogged infrequently, hiked mostly, staggered occasionally, and on more than one occasion stood doubled-over, hands on knees, just trying to breathe.

The M Trail, for those unfamiliar, is a trail which runs from the University of Montana campus (at the bottom of the hill) up to the giant stone "M" which university students installed there in 1908. The guide book says that "Many local athletes and fitness buffs run the M trail as a regular part of their regimen." All I have to say is OUCH. The trail runs for a mere 3/4 of a mile... straight up. Elevation gain is 620 feet, and there are 11 (steep!) switchbacks in all. In case you can't see them on the picture above, I have highlighted the switchbacks here:
I managed a mere 1.9 miles in 35 minutes. I made it to the M and then went another few tenths of a mile farther before my legs were complete jelly and my head was getting light. I had intentions of doing a five-mile loop which climbed to the M then wound around and back down the mountain, but I think I'll put that off until another time. Having turned around, I started back down. But if my legs were jelly on the way up, they were literally quivering on the way back down. Clearly I have much work to do if I am ever to consider myself a "local athlete and fitness buff!" Still, the views from up there were amazing.

Missoula from above:
The green, wooded valley in this picture is Lower Rattlesnake, where I'm living.

Time to do a little strength work, and then I have half-a-pound of wonderful bison brisket waiting for me to eat! If anyone wants a recipe for bison brisket, let me know. I got the recipe (and the brisket) from the local Missoula farmer's market, and it was wonderful.

Until next time,
M

Getting Settled In

Well, it's been a few days, and I'm starting to get settled in and get into a rhythm out here. The room is coming together nicely. I'm probably half-way unpacked, but it is livable and furnished and all that. I went to WalMart a couple days ago and picked up a few cheap things, including a Bed-in-a-Bag. Comforter, sheets, pillow shams (seriously?!), and a dust ruffle (again, ?!), all for $30. The downside of buying cheap was that I didn't have a whole lot of design options. I almost (note the sarcasm) went with the design that included the broad and brightly-colored pastel stripes... but then I didn't. Instead I chose the rather large (and still rather loud) blue-green plaid. Still, it's not terrible.

Been putting in quite a few workouts already, and I'm slowly starting to adapt to the altitude, I think. People we've been talking to say it takes about a week or so to really start feeling comfortable, so I'm just taking it easy for the next few days - no high intensity. I went out this morning for a short but beautiful bike ride. The Rattlesnake area, named for the Rattlesnake Creek that passes through our neighborhood, extends north for a few miles and then just ends in open wilderness. Despite what Google Maps says, the roads end in wilderness, too. We thought there would be some nice rural routes and quiet two-lanes to ride our bikes through, but they turn into dirt paths and walking trails within five miles or so. Still, by following a number of different roads, I managed to get in almost seventeen easy miles. Good enough for an easy recovery hour of cycling.

Yesterday was a rough day, weather-wise. The weather could not make up its mind what it was going to do. The morning started cold and overcast, then it rained a little bit, just sprinkling off and on, then the sun came out and it warmed up, then the clouds returned and it cooled ten degrees in ten minutes, then we had what looked like a clear patch, so I took a chance and went for a bike ride. Within 30 minutes, though, the temperature had dropped and it had started raining, so I was a little cold on my (fast) return journey. Then it cleared up by about 6pm and, although windy and cool, was nice enough to go swimming at Frenchtown Pond in the evening. I really felt the effects of the thin air while swimming, so I went back to shore after half-an-hour or so. It didn't help that Alex and I were trying to keep up with a couple of local professional triathletes!

Weather today has been beautiful. The morning started cool but as soon as the sun came out things have warmed up into the high 60s, and it has been clear and sunny all day. In an hour or so I'll go out on what for the next few days passes as a "long"run - just five or six miles, at least until I feel comfortable at the altitude. Then I'll come back and do a short strength training workout, before finally calling it a day.

For kicks, I'm signed up for the Mountain to Meadow 14 Mile Fun Run this Saturday. I think we've already established that my idea of "fun" is probably different than yours. It should be a good way to kick-start the training, plus it should be just beautiful out there.

Well, time to start thinking about that run...

Sunday, June 21, 2009

Long Overdue: Driving West Parts 2 and 3 - Chicago to Missoula with an Overnight in North Dakota


To be completely honest, the numbers about this trip are pretty scary/astonishing/unbelievable when I start to think about them.
Total driving distance: 3354 miles
Total driving time: 59 h0urs
States passed through: 14 (Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, District of Columbia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, Ohio, Illinois, Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana)
Amount of beef jerky consumed while driving: unknown... but probably measured in pounds

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Author Graham Green once wrote that "a story has no beginning or end: arbitrarily one chooses that moment of experience from which to look back or from which to look ahead." This particular story picks up somewhere in the middle, in Gurnee, Illinois.

I had a wonderful visit with all of the family in Gurnee. Maria was wonderfully accommodating with Dixie--allowing her to stay in the mudroom when she was not comfortable being closed up in the garage--and Lib and Nick were thrilled that they could now say they'd had a dog in their house. Dixie even played basketball with us! Maria, skilled amateur photographer that she is, snapped a few great pictures of the kids playing with Dixie.
Dixie attacking Nick!

I spent a full day there in Chicago, and then Alex met up with me that night. Thursday morning, we got on I-94 West. And spent the next two days driving on that same road. One stretch of I-94 was completely uninterrupted for over 800 miles. Talk about simple directions!

Entering Wisconsin. Not the best picture, but you get the idea.

There must have been some kind of classic car show going on somewhere out here, because I must have passed a dozen classic and restored cars going down the road with me, including one that looked like the Grease car but painted black and hot pink.

The two thousand mile mark, in just over 39 hours. Only thirteen-hundred miles to go!

Cheese country behind me, I'm now entering Minnesota.

The sky out there was just beautiful. I could see for miles!

I missed getting a picture of the North Dakota welcome sign because it was storming pretty hard at the time. You'll have to trust me that I did in fact pass through North Dakota on this trip.

After stopping for dinner at an IHOP in Fargo, ND (where I was happily greated by the IHOP hostess with a classic Fargo accent!), Alex and I called it a night in the town of Jamestown, ND. We'd been on the road for twelve hours. Jamestown is apparently a big buffalo town, as evidenced by the advertised "Live Herd of Buffalo" at the Frontier Village. Too bad it was closed...

We stopped at a motel for the night. Dixie did like she usually does and slept in the bed with me. But when I got up in the morning to take a shower, she found herself a new and warmer location to keep snoozing. She did it without waking Alex, too! Michelle, I'd watch out... you've got some competition going here!

I'm driving down the road when I see signs for the "World's Largest Holstein Cow." Clearly I must pull over to investigate. This is what I found. According to the plaque, this is Salem Sue. "The World's Largest Holstein Cow is 38 feet high, 50 feet long, and weighs 12,000 pounds." Quite impressive, isn't she?

The intrepid explorer!

A few miles down the road, Alex calls me and tells me to pull off in the town of Medora. It is apparently a still-functioning frontier town and is on the edge of the Theodore Roosevelt National Park. We had entered the Dakota Badlands. The building in the picture below is the "Rough Riders Hotel Dining Room."

Made it to Montana! Only 600 miles to go...

At least the scenery is absolutely amazing. Like I said in an earlier post from the road, now I understand why they call this Big Sky Country.
Crossing the Yellowstone River.

First view of the ROCKIES!

The Rocky Mountains in the distance were just surreal, as was the experience of driving towards them for hours without seeming to get any closer to them.

Just amazing.

FINALLY ARRIVED!

So that's it. We made it. We're living in a great little house with two other guys and one other dog. There's a large, fenced backyard, with a doggie-door in the back door, so Dixie can come in and out at her leisure. I fear she will get spoiled and will not be happy about moving back to DC in the fall. Come to think of it, I fear I will get spoiled and will not be happy about moving back to DC in the fall. Oh well. As MaryClaire has taught me to say, I'll burn that bridge when I get there.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Who Stole All the Oxygen?!

So it's official. We've just done our first workout at altitude. Less than 30 minutes of light running at slower than 10 min/mile pace. Yet on every uphill (of which there were a few) I felt like I was breathing through a straw. Obviously I have some physical and physiological adaptations yet to come, and I will be glad when they do. I should start getting some snap back in a few days, but the next two or three are going to feel awful.

Basically, two things are going to start happening in my body. One is that I'm going to start producing more red blood cells to transport oxygen from my lungs to my muscles. The other is that my muscles are going to start getting more efficient at using the oxygen they have. I'll try to write a post at some point that talks more about the actual physiological processes taking place and how/why they are happening.

In the meantime, though, I need to find some breakfast, then go shopping for food, bedding, and a few other things. I need to clean the room, unpack, and start getting settled in. Don't worry though, I have lots of pictures from the last few days, so I'll get them all put together for you, hopefully by tonight.

Friday, June 19, 2009

Hello from Missoula

I've finally arrived here in Missoula. I've got tons of pictures and more details to post, but for now I'm just going to work on unpacking. Just want to let everyone know that I'm safe.
Rocky mountains are now in sight!
A few miles east of Billings, MT. Now i understand why they call it "big sky country"!
Just made it to montana!
I'm currently at the site of the world's largest holstein cow. Pictures to follow.
On the road again... 2482 miles on the trip odometer, with 49 hours total driving so far. Only eleven or so more hours to go!

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Stopped for dinner in Fargo, ND. Makes me wish i'd seen that movie. We came through a crazy storm, but the countryside is fantastic.
Well folks, the trip odometer just hit two thousand miles since leaving Atlanta! Thirty-nine hours of driving.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

Driving West Part 1 – DC to Chicago

Leg one of my journey westward is complete. It took 10.5 hrs to get from DC to Chicago, leaving DC before 6am to avoid the great parking lot known as Washington Rush Hour Traffic. I made great time with no traffic hang-ups until I got to Chicago itself. It then took me 2.5 hrs to get from the Skyway toll plaza across the city to the northern suburb of Gurnee – a trip which can be completed in just under an hour with no traffic. Still, thirteen hours on the road really wasn’t all that bad. Yesterday was a nice day for driving, with enough cloud cover for most of the trip to keep the sun from glaring. That is, until I got to Indiana, where it started drizzling… then raining… then pouring. Oh my poor bikes getting wet up on the roof! They’ve all dried out now, though, and seem to be no worse for the wear. The mountain bike needed a bath anyway.


Welcome to Pennsylvania


Hooray Ohio – another toll! Seriously, the tolls were a little bit ridiculous, as I think I spent more money on tolls than on food this trip.


Shots of the Ohio countryside:


My traveling companion behaved herself quite nicely!


Finally starting to see signs for Chicago.


Made it to Indiana… then the rain started.


I believe this is referred to as the “Are we there yet?!” look.


This caused a little bit of a traffic jam for a while. It was forty feet off the highway, across a ditch, upside-down. No idea how it got that way, but it must have been a spectacular flip. No other cars were around, so either the driver ran him(her?)self off the road or else the police/fire people had the other car towed before I got there.


Made it to Chicago! Only two and a half hours to go…


Sitting in traffic, moving at half-a-mile-an-hour. Might as well take a photo of Comiskey Park… er, I mean, U.S. Cellular Field.