Toe-tally committed

I've spent my entire life as a fan of the California Anaheim Los Angeles Angels major league baseball team, so it was only natural that I pass this unconditional and inexplicable love on to my son.  

I started planting the seed at an age when Dash was barely able to utter "Mama," let alone "2002 World Series Champions." Every time I had him on his changing table, I'd say "Vladimir. Guerrero." Repeatedly. It got to the point where all I'd say was, "Vladimir ...?" and Dash would respond with, "Guh-way-woh."  

In addition to knowing the name of my favorite player, Dash was also familiar with the Angels' color scheme, which might be related to the fact that we hooked him up with an Angels bib, t-shirts, hats and anything else Angels-related. So one day after Liz painted her toenails red, Dash called them "Guerrero toes," and the name stuck. Every time we take a trip to Angels Stadium, Liz puts on her Guerrero toes as a good-luck charm (they haven't lost a game that we've gone to).  

After Saturday night's heartbreaking (and frustrating) loss to the Yankees in Game 2 of the ALCS, I decided it was time to take things to a new level. Ya know, because my actions have a direct impact on the team's performance (don't they?). Needless to say, Dash was a little confused on Sunday when he looked at my feet and saw this:

Memorial Ride of Silence

As you all (all 4 of you) know, I only started riding regularly about 4 months ago. With my job being 40 miles away and family obligations, realistically the only available hours for me to ride are at night. I always wear a helmet, I have two bike lights (front and back) and my cycling shoes have reflective material on them. Whenever possible, I ride on dedicated bike paths,  in the bike lane or the sidewalk in the absence of a bike lane. 

And despite all my precautions and preparations, I ride with a little bit of fear. I only ride routes that I'm familiar with and aren't heavily traveled, but I know all it takes is one car. Or in the case of the Santa Clarita Valley, one monster truck. 

So I felt a sense of obligation when I heard about a Memorial Ride of Silence for Joe Novotny, a local cyclist who was killed by a drunk driver this past summer while riding along a popular cycling route here in the SCV. I don't know any other cyclists in town and I had no idea how many would show up, but I arrived at the designated sign-in area at 7:30 this morning. And I saw cyclists. A lot of them. My guess is around 200, but other estimates put it closer to 300. And I'm pretty sure most of us had never met Joe Novotny.

I always thought of cycling as a solitary sport for loners or those who don't like to be part of a team. Today I was both surprised and humbled by the turnout, and it became very clear to me that cycling is not a solitary endeavor by any means. It is, in fact, a tight knit community that rallies around its comrades. And today that community rode in unison -- for 12 miles in complete silence -- to honor the memory of a fallen member. 

Today I became part of a community, humbled by its commitment to its sport and moved by its dedication to its members.

Malibu Triathlon: The Real Deal

September 13

A co-worker of mine organized our team for the triathlon, and on Friday he sent out an e-mail to everyone that said, "Get a good night's sleep tonight, because tomorrow night you won't." Seeing as he is an accomplished triathlete and marathoner, I figured he knew what he was talking about. So naturally, I got 5 hours (but they were a solid 5 hours) of sleep on Friday night (thanks for the pre-7:00 am wake-up call, Dutch!). What follows is a timeline of my first taste of a triathlon....

4:30 am - alarm goes off
4:57 am - I pull out of the garage to start the 58-mile drive to Malibu
5:02 am - I stop at a gas station to get a bottle of water. I contemplate getting something to eat, but then remember the bathroom stalls at Zuma Beach do not have doors on them.
5:39 am - A calm but concerned e-mail chain starts amongst teammates, as we're all within a few miles of Zuma, but PCH is a virtual parking lot with no alternative
5:49 am - The e-mail exchange continues, getting increasingly less calm and more frantic
6:26 am - I take a chance and park at Malibu High School. I jump on my bike and ride the last 2 miles
6:43 am - Panic starts to set in as our swimmer and I can't find each other. I have her swim cap and transition area bracelet. She is helpless without these two items. Starting/transition area is an absolute madhouse.
6:48 am - We find each other, I give her the cap and bracelet and get my bike racked with about a minute to spare
7:15 am - The race starts! Our information packet says we're in Wave 8. By my math, the 5-minute intervals between waves put our swimmer in the water at about 7:50. She said her goal was 25 minutes, so I tell myself I need to be ready by 8:05 am.
7:51 am - As I'm doing some last-minute tire maintenance, our swimmer, soaking wet and out of breath, runs up and hands me the timing chip. "I'm not ready!" I scream, panicked and completely unprepared. Someone forgot to tell me that the intervals between waves were shorter than 5 minutes.
7:51-7:53 am - I sprint back to our corporate tent, put my shoes on and sprint back to the transition area. No Power Bar consumed, not a single stretch completed. I grab my bike and start a fast walk to the bike mount area.
7:53 am - I'm clipped in and riding in my first triathlon!
8:56 am - I'm off the bike and walking back into the transition area
8:57 am - I look at my Apple iPhone and am shocked when Runkeeper tells me I did 18 miles in 63 minutes
8:58 am - I realize my legs want to fold in half, so I take a load off and continue sweating.


This experience far exceeded my expectations. Four months ago I was probably in the worst shape of my life, and I saw this as an opportunity to motivate and get my body moving again. Over the course of 101 days I went from someone who struggled to go 3 miles to someone who could ride 20 miles with energy to spare. I came up with a training plan, followed it fairly religiously and ended up blowing past both my "realistic" goal of 72 minutes and my "ideal" goal of 70 minutes.

While I was really happy with my performance, I was also really inspired by every person I saw competing. Nobody was judged -- young, old, fat, thin -- it didn't matter. Random people encouraged random people and even though it was technically a race, it didn't feel like a cutthroat competition. 

My one regret was that I was only taking part in one event, but that will change. My training will continue into 2010, but it will include swimming and running. Because in 2010, I'll be entering a triathlon as an individual competitor.

Malibu Triathlon Training: Week 14

Sept. 1 & Sept. 3
This was my second-to-last week of training for the Malibu Triathlon. My original training plan was to go 20 miles three times, but after going the full tri distance of 18 miles on Days 30 & 31 I knew that 20x3 would be too much.

Sept. 1
Having finally found an 18-mile loop that was both logical and relatively close to home, I decided to just stick with it. This ride was pretty uneventful, but I did manage to shave a few seconds off my pace and got it down to 4:15 -- 3 seconds faster than my last 18-miler and 6 seconds faster than the time before that.

Distance: 18.09 miles
Time: 1:16:55
Pace: 4:15




Sept. 3
As I mentioned, 18 miles seemed to be just about all my body could take on one day's rest, and even that was pushing it (are your quads supposed to constantly be sore?!). But according to my schedule, I only had 3-4 more training rides before the triathlon, and there was a training goal I wanted to hit: 20 miles. So despite cringing at the thought of another 18-mile ride in 3 days, I figured it was now or never. With some encouragement from Liz (who has been amazingly supportive throughout this whole process) and the thought of Miles telling Joel, "Every now and then, say 'What the fuck'" running through my head, I decided to go for it.

Instead of trying to come up with some new, crazy, convoluted route that would get me there, I just followed my normal 18-mile loop and took a few scenic detours along the way. By the time I rolled up the driveway and stopped Runkeeper, I was sure I had topped 20 miles. But when I looked and my Apple iPhone, it said I was actually a shade under 18 miles. And the worst part was that it had taken my 1:24:38 -- I felt like I had gone a little slower than usual, but I didn't think I was that far off my usual pace.

Feeling slightly dejected, I went into the house, reported my disappointment to Liz and logged on to the Runkeeper website to survey my ride. When I looked at the map, I realized what had happened: the GPS signal had gotten screwy at around Mile 14, evidenced by the straight line running from Mile 14 to Mile 17, which would've required me to ride over (or through) several buildings and cross two major streets at really odd angles.

I won't get too technical, but I was able to download the data from the website, import it into a different routing program and see that I had, in fact, ridden 19.95 miles! But hey, I'm calling it 20. I probably stopped the timer a second or so before I actually reached my driveway, and for the record, .05 miles is only 264 feet ... OK?!

Distance: 19.95 miles
Time: 1:24:38
Pace: 4:15

I Fell

I do stuff other than ride my bike.

Falling with Style from Josh Engel on Vimeo.