Team Monkey'Stache....because misery loves company.

So I convince a friend of mine to enter the world of triathlons with me.  Because, well....he's half crazy and agreed to do it, and I need the accountability factor when it comes to training.  We've both been working out since the start of the new year, but until recently he was out of town.  So we finally had the chance to get together for a little training.  Now you are all witness to the humble beginnings of the Monkey'Stache triathlon team.  He is the monkey.....and of course you all know the 'Stache.

Our first meet was for a "long" training ride.  I quoted long because if some of you reading this are serious triathletes you might roll your eyes but back off we're just getting into it.  Anyway it was a 22 mile ride that should have lasted about an hour and ten minutes or so.  I say should have, because in typical fashion nothing went quite as planned.

We meet up at the agreed upon spot.  Exchange pleasantries and off we go.  Taking off at an easy pace to shake the legs loose.  We move slowly over a few rolling hills and have a pretty good cadence going.  We're taking some back country roads to start.  Lots of nice scenery but not a lot of shoulder which will come into play later.  I get through the warm up and start to pick up the pace some to my typical training pace and notice the distance between me and my training partner starting to grow.  So I back the effort back down and get back with him.  He had been stationed in the colder climates and had been doing most of his bike work on stationary, or a trainer in his hotel room.  He was finding the inclines a little more difficult and was still learning how to gear his bike to deal with different terrain types.  No big deal really it was just going to help teach me patience and pacing.  Once he gets it figured out then we can really go for better speeds.

So we continue on these country roads and I look over my shoulder to see that he's a few yards back with a mini van sitting right on his rear wheel!  He's gesturing wildly for the guy to pass, but this guy won't budge he just sits there tailgating him.  This continues for about 2 miles before my friend finally pulls off the road and the guy flies by him.  I follow suit cause I don't want this guy on my ass and I gesture wildly too as he passes, just not the same gesture as my partner.  I don't think the driver liked it because he returned the gesture.  We gather ourselves and continue on.

We make it to the turnaround point and I'm getting excited cause now we're going to be on Interstate access roads which are much wider and better constructed.  We continue on when suddenly he asks "hey does my front tire look low".  Sure enough I glance down and notice the tell-tale bulge of a tire with a slow leak.

"Yeah it does, you have a repair kit?"

"Nope"

"Awesome, we've only got 6 or so miles left that's all"

"I know I know"

We continue on a ways more and finally have to pull over.  His tire is just about flat.

"Well you stay here and I'll getty up on back to the jeep and come back for you"

"Not much other choice"

So off I go stomping on the pedals to save the day.  4 uneventful miles and 1 wrong turn later I'm back at our start point and into my jeep.  Doesn't take me too long to get to him and get his bike loaded up, and headed back home.  We laugh at our unpreparedness.  Talk about the "next times".  And arrive back a few miles short of the goal for that day but a lot of lessons learned.

Me and the Monkey and one very flat tire.

A man's man....out with the girls.

I recently attended a father/daughter dance with my two girls Darby (9) and Logan (7).  I adore them of course, and sometimes worry about losing our connection as they grow from girls to women.  Girls are fairly easy to understand because they haven't been possessed by the spectre of female hormones yet.  As they get older though the inevitable happens and they become women.  A creature I have spent my entire life observing, studying, and trying to understand.  Like Dr. Jane Goodall I have made myself at home with one and spent time with groups of them.  To this day I am still baffled by their reasoning, communication, and inter-gender workings.

But I digress, like I said this past weekend I got some rare one on one time with the girls.  They have had this date circled in their mental calendars since the tickets were purchased weeks ago.  I was worried that they would build the event up in their heads as some sort of Cinderellian wonderland only to find the reality of the situation much more disappointing.  Regardless the day had finally arrived.

So after a morning of hustling around to get to soccer games etc. the preparations commenced.  I first treated myself to a haircut.  I realized that I'm getting older as the lady cut hair in places where it didn't belong, like eyebrows, and ears.  She offered to trim up the 'Stache too and I took umbrage with that, but just declined her offer politely.

Then it was home to hit the showers for the girls before their hair appointment.  Off we go to the salon to get all "purtied" up.  Now it has been decades (plural) since I have been to a hair salon.  Not since my mother used to drag me to them as a child while she got her hair cut.  Things have changed very little since that time, and I felt as uncomfortable today as a 36 year old man as I did when I was but a 6 year old boy.  I walked in and immediately stood out as the proverbial square peg trying to settle into a round hole.  To begin with I was a man and consequently the only man in the whole place.  Secondly these women were fashionable in their fancy dresses, knee high boots, make up, and not a hair out of place.  In contrast to me in work jeans, a t-shirt, dirty old boots, baseball cap, 5 o'clock shadow, and as always my big boy burly 'Stache.  Gone were the backdated copies of Field and Stream, Sports Illustrated, and Popular Mechanics magazine.  Instead replaced with Style, Cosmopolitan, and OK. 

I was greeted by a young raven haired lass with delicate features and porcelain skin "welcome sir, how may we help you" but I'm sure she was thinking holy smokes look at this knuckle dragging Neanderthal.  Much to her surprise I did not respond with our name and appointment time instead of with "Uggg...cut.....hair....girls".  But the girls, who had been there before, were greeted by their usual stylists in short order.  Usual stylists?  Another foreign term to me.  Where I go my usual stylist is the one who says "Next".

It was amazing to see the girls interact with the women cutting their hair.  Both of them just chatting away and giggling and laughing.  It was interesting to note that no matter what the age, women can talk with their stylists non stop.  My only interaction with whoever is cutting my hair is detailed instructions, and a brief awkward attempt at small talk that is usually cut short by a sideways glance from me intended to mean less talking, more cutting.

Haircuts complete we headed on back home to pick up the dresses, which were green, and corsages to head over to a friend of ours house to get some make up and get dressed up.  Now I'm not a big fan of makeup for the girls.  I secretly believe that there is a  secret chemical compound somewhere deep within makeup that speeds up secretion of female hormones and consequently causes girls to lose their minds and become women.  So I am looking to delay that as long as possible.  However, I was assured it would be minimal, and my girls were so excited at the thought of it so I suppose every now and then can't hurt.

I used this time to travel home and get gussied up myself.  With a shower, shave, and suit I was looking like the sharp dressed lady killer that I am.  Finished in time to realize that the time had come for me to go back over to pick up my dates.  I arrived to find them fully dressed, made up and ready for their corsages.  They looked beautiful, and I realized that they are growing up faster than I can account for despite my best efforts to the contrary.  So I put on their wrist corsages and awkwardly attached my boutonniere and we were ready for the obligatory pictures before leaving.  Some things never change.

Then it was off to take my girls to dinner at a local Mexican food restaurant.  We were seated immediately and enjoyed our meals.  We discussed important topics of the day like what the decorations would look like, who we would know there, what songs we would request and on and on.  We survived dinner without any spills, myself included, thankfully and were soon on our way to the dance.

We arrived shortly after the dance had started around 6:50.  Have you ever tried to explain the concept of "being fashionably late" to two young girls who have eagerly anticipated a dance for several weeks.  I would advise against it as I found it to be a irritatingly futile exercise in which logic and reason will never be able to trump emotion and excitement.  My two dates accompanied me up the walk and in saying this I mean the pulled me like a team of Clydesdales up to the front door.  Where we gave our tickets and finally entered the dance.

The Schertz civic center which is usually a drab utilitarian multi purpose space had been transformed into an underwater kingdom.  Through the miracle of balloons, crepe paper, taffeta, and dim lighting this once bland building was now alive and teaming in concurrence with the themes of the deep blue sea.  A large dance floor directly ahead through a balloon arch was teaming with several young ladies and their father's.  Around the room were tables and chairs for exhausted attendees to rest their weary soles.  Refreshments were in abundance and taken advantage of by one and all.  We soon found a table of familiars and claimed a space.

We spent the rest of the evening dancing, eating, drinking, standing in line for pictures, and generally enjoying the pleasure of each others company.  As it turns out this dance was not to much different then any other dance you might attend.  The dance floor was packed with girls dancing while most of the men could be found along the walls or in corners talking amongst themselves.  That is until their dates drug them by the hand out to the dance floor where many a "comical" dance move ensued.

As we were leaving the girls were still abuzz with excitement about all they had seen, and heard, and done.  They gushed about the decorations, lauded the refreshments, and discussed musical selections to no end.  They asked, and in fact pleaded to be taken back next year.  But I'm not easy date so I played coy, and was hard to get for a while but in the end relented and agreed we should do it again next year.  In fact I took it one step further and asked them to accompany me to a dance like this once a year until the graduated high school and they quickly said yes to, even when they get older and I'm not cool.  So if you need me on a given weekend in March for something on Saturday evening don't be surprised if I telly you "I'm sorry to tell you but I can't.....I've got a date."

Spring has sprung and its time to get moving...

IT'S SPRING TIME IN TEXAS BABY!!!!  Bluebonnets are blooming and plants are coming to life.  The air is most definitely getting warmer and excuses are melting away like winter snows.  Not that I ever get any snow this far south in Texas.

I saw this on a training ride yesterday.  A ride, by the way, that I set a new best for average speed over any kind of significant distance.  I had just passed through the corner pictured above and was reminded of some of the shots I see while watching the Tour de France.  It was too good to pass up so I stopped to smell the roses so to speak.  Parked my bike and took a picture.

Too often these days I take things like this for granted.  Thanks to a re-dedication in training I've had a lot more opportunities to enjoy what is out there.  The wildflowers blooming and their fragrant smells, the sound of frogs chirping or a babbling brook, a hawk in the wind on the hunt, or even the silence of the early mornings broken only by the rhythm of footfalls and breathing.

Time to start taking advantage of the great weather with early morning runs, and afternoon rides.  Before you know it swimming pools will be warm enough and even some open water swims.  It's a small window to enjoy because soon summer will be set upon me and my enjoyment of the weather will decrease exponentially.  Oppressive south Texas summers are on the way boys and girls.  Good for race preparation but terrible while you're actually training.  So get out there, and do it quickly because springs in Texas don't last long.

A break in training with a little R&R

Took a break from life this weekend and it was very much needed.  Every year some old college friends of mine all get together for some camping, mischief, revelry, and "reliving" of our youth.  Its an annual event that I've enjoyed but haven't always been able to participate in.

It was also a chance for me to take a break form the tedium of training.  I took my running shoes with me just in case.  On Saturday morning I looked at them with loathing disdain through bloodshot eyes and determined that this weekend would be one of rest.

This weekend is one like everyone should have at least once a year.  Good friends from long ago gather round fires and enjoy one another's company.  Stories are retold and we end up laughing just as hard today as we did on those nights that it happened.  Guitars are played and songs sung in the same old off key manner with which we have always attacked them.  Washers are thrown, dominoes are laid (strictly 42, not chicken foot or block dominoes), and copious amounts of adult beverages are imbibed, along with some other "unhealthy" vices.

Though it may not be the best training regimen around for the legs or lungs I view it as a vital part of recovery.  Restoration of the soul and/or spirit.  It actually served to solidify my committment to continue on this path I am following.  Many of my friends commented on how much better I looked (as if that was possible).  Several others who keep up with my facebook page have read up on my recent exploits and were asking about them.  Others who also participate in various endurance competitions asked if I would be interested in participating in some relay/team events.  So all in all I viewed this as a positive addition to my training.

Basically the point of this post is to serve as a reminder to me and others like me (who are in this for the health benefits and aren't looking to be uber-competitive) there is something else out there to be had besides training.  From time to time your training fire may need stoking, or you may need some time to let your batteries recharge.  In my case this little camping trip was just what I needed.  As a follow up I had little trouble rolling out of bed this morning to attack another training run, especially knowing my friends may be calling me up soon to help them out in a race.

My first race.....

Me and the Kids at the finish!!!

This past weekend I participated in what I hope to be the first of many multisport events.  It was the Blue Norther Duathlon in Seguin Texas.  Duathlon being a 5K (3.1 mile) run, 14 mile bike, and another 5K run.  It was a great experience, though at times humbling, and I took a lot away from it.  So to follow, is what I believe to be an accurate, and perhaps to the casual sadist, humorous description of the events that unfolded last Sunday.

The race was set to start at 9:00 a.m. and the bike racks would open at 6:30.  The weather had turned cooler and on Saturday it rained and continued to do so through Sunday morning.  I awoke at 6:00 a.m. and checked my e-mail to find one from the race director saying the race was still a go.  So on went my running shorts (with no bike pad, more on that later) shoes, and shirt.  Had a spoonful of peanut butter, a banana, and a granola bar for later.  Grabbed my bag with helmet, bike shoes, water, and a towel and hopped in the car.  I had already packed my bike, and was on the road at 6:20.  I was anxious and cursing myself for not having woke up early to leave sooner.  Now all the good spaces on the bike racks would be taken and I'd be stuck in some obscure corner far away from any convenience.

I arrived and was pleasantly suprised to find that not only were there plenty of good spaces still available, they were all still available.  I parked and unloaded my bike, inflated my tires and headed for safety inspection.  I was given the quick once over by the safety officer and was released to the bike racks as the third bike into transition.  I was worried that the weather was going to really put a damper on participation.

Next up I went to body marking.  Where they wrote my race number (lucky 777) on one calf and my age on the other.  I then proceeded back to the transition area to find much to my suprise that the rest of the competitors had now arrived.  I engaged in idle nervous small talk with other competitors.  Saw alot of people "warming up" and thought "if thats the speed they warm up with I'm in trouble".  It was interesting to see all the gizmos, gadgets, and fancy toys some of them brought to the race.  By now the transition area was a sea of aluminum, carbon fiber, backlit LED displays, and spandex.  Then we all started to migrate to the start.

As we listen to the race directors last minute instructions I slowly move myself to the back of the pack.  Pride goeth before the fall as they say, so if I fall I didn't want 100+ people running over my back.  Then came the command of "on your mark....get set....go!"  And away we went.  I fall in with a group and we admire the form, turnover, and speed of the front runners as they soon leave us as a distant memory.  The heavy drizzle is keeping the air cool but also very heavy.  I am never quite comfortable with a pace.  I can't seem to get in a rythym.  I often wonder how fast I am going, I didn't wear a watch so I really have no idea.  Everything seems out of place and nothing ever settles in.  I make the turn for the second lap of the first 5K and nothing improves.  I grab a water cup from a volunteer and try to drink on the run.  Mistake, it feels like I just tried to waterboard myself and end up with most of the water down the front of me.  (Mental note:  walk to take a drink or waterboard myself so I get used to the feeling)  I'm cruising (using the term loosely) along looking for Red, but she is nowhere to be seen, so I just continue to diesel on down the road, getting passed by many and passing few.

Finish the second loop and get into the transition area out of breath.  Kick off my running shoes, put on my helmet, grab my bike shoes and bike and trot toward the mount line.  Now some more experienced athletes will clips their shoes into the pedals of their bikes, hop on and get their bikes up to speed with their feet on top of their bike shoes.  Once up to speed they will slip their feet in and fasten their shoes tight.   I had not practiced this so I didn't see how crashing, breaking a collarbone and looking like a fool would help me speed up any, so I crossed the mount line, put on my shoes, and then mounted my bike.  On a side note because of my outstanding (sarcasm) run I pretty much had the transition area to myself as most everyone else was already on the bike course.  So I'm finally onto my bike and heading out to the course which was a rectangular 14 mile course over the local highways.

I switch gears, get up to speed, and find a gear comfortable for pace and pedal cadence.  I'm flying along and the 'Stache is flapping like a rain soaked flag in the winds that I am creating.  I try and remember not to push too hard because I still have another 3.1 miles of running after this so I will still need my legs.  The drizzle was of course still coming down and the roads were wet but I was fortunate enough to not have any stability problems.  When suddenly I look up and see a rider on a bicycle coming to me.  What?  I'm passing somebody?  This can't be...but it is.  Man this is way cool so I get around them and see another two in front and they're getting bigger as well.  I put them behind me and this continues on.  As we climb some of the hills in the area I usually just keep them at the same distance but when we top the hills all of my "momentum" really gets me flying down hill and I pass them by.  Now that was alot of fun.  Halfway through though I start to think "I'm passing alot of people and nobdy is passing me....hmmmm have I gone out to fast?"  My legs still feel good, and I'm not breathing hard at all, but there was that nagging feeling so I drop my effort down a little and still continue to pass people.  Somewhere between the 10th and 11th mile I am really wishing I'd worn some sort of tri-shorts, or bike shorts or something with a little padding in the undercarriage because I was getting a might tender down there.  It was too late to do anything about it now, so I'll just have to suffer through it and learn from it.  (Mental note:  protection of the tender bits becomes important as your reach double digit bike mileage)  So I come down the final straight and turn back into the transition area and see Red there snapping away pictures.  That made me smile, although you couldn't tell because of my awesome 'Stache.

Although the course was rainy my trusty steed never lost its footing

Me just crossing the dismount line.

Getting my race gear off and dreading the run.  Hey you see that jerk on the right....yeah he's finished...showoff.  Also please note all the bikes back on the racks, not a good sign.

I get into transition and see Red mouthing something.  I think fatigue had set in and in an effort to keep me alive my body had shut down my sense of hearing.  She repeats and asks "hows it going?"  I search for something inspirational or funny to say but "wet" is all I can manage.  Throw off the helmet and off with the bike shoes to discover that the cooler temperatures and wetter conditions have turned my toes into numb little nubs.  This makes getting my running shoes back on really interesting.  Have you ever tried to put a shoe on a foot that has fallen asleep?  Yeah that.  I look over and this guy who apparently had overachieved and already finished smiles at me and says "alright now go have some fun out there."  I wanted to judo chop him in the throat, but I understood his well meaning intentions and so instead just snarled at him.  Then I stand up bite half of the granola bar, chew it up real quick and chase it with some water.  Then I start to run.....uh oh.

Herein lies a strange sensation that I will accurately try to relate.  Its as if the numbness of my toes had immediately migrated up both my legs.  My brain was working, telling my legs to start running.  My legs were listening and started in motion.  However the two weren't communicating which left me with an odd sensation of knowing and seeing that I was running but not feeling like I was running.  My legs felt dead and the feed back I would normally get from them while running was not there, it was like nothing was there.  I wasn't enjoying this at all as I exited the tranistion area and thought about walking to let my legs recover.  Then I see my 3 kids piled in the back of the Expedition cheering Daddy on like I was in the lead (which by the way I was far from).  Well damn.....now I can't stop in front of my kids.  So on I go feeling like every stride I was stepping in post holes.

By the time I'm out of sight I figured, well I've run this far might as well keep going....and so I did.  Round the first lap and let me tell you it is awfully disheartening to be able to see the finish line only to have to make a right turn right before it for another lap.  But turn I did and continued on around the Trinity Lutheran University campus which on any normal day I'm sure I would have considered to be a beautiful location, but at the time seemed to be a neverending stretch of blacktop with invisible gremlins with flamethrowers setting fire to my legs with every step.  I missed my bike.  People continue to pass me giving credence to the saying "you bike for show, and run for dough".  As a brief aside here...writing peoples ages on their legs is just mean to those of us who are slow of foot.  Every time somebody would pass me I would take offense if they were older than me.  Dang there goes a 47 year old.  51?!?!?  Man that ain't even right.  Eventually enough time passes and the heavens open up and shine upon me as I make the final turn for home.

The organizers are great and are cheering you on as you come down the straightaway.  I pass over the finish line proud to have finished and dog tired.  Help myself to some bananas, oranges, and water.  Then I amble on over to sit with my cheering section and cheer on those who finished behind me.  Yes there were some who finished behind me.  We then pack up and head on for home after putting my first multisport race in the books.  The first of which I hope will become many in my future.

After action report.  Since I didn't wear a watch I had no idea what any of my times were and had to wait for the company that timed the event to post them.  Here they are.

Split	Type	Distance	Time	Pace
Run	Run	3.1 Miles	26:52	8:40 Min/Mile
T1	Transition	0 Miles	0:18
Bike	Bike	14 Miles	50:55	16:30 MPH
T2	Transition	0 Miles	0:32
Run	Run	3.1 Miles	32:32	10:30 Min/Mile

In hindsight I can now see why I couldn't ever find a pace on the first run.  I was going way too fast.  Adrenaline, excitement, competitive nature, whatever it was I just wouldn't pace myself better.  I haven't run sub 9 minute miles in a long time over any significant distance. 

My bike speed was 16.5 miles per hour which would explain why I wasn't ever hurting.  When I train I go much faster but was laying back in fear of burning out my legs.  However I didn't get passed so I'm left wondering was I still going to fast? 

And as you can see I locked myself in the "hurt locker" over the last 5K and that is reflected in my times, almost two full minutes per mile slower than my first 5K.  I learned a lot of things on this race and hope to improve on my next race which will be the Gatorbait Sprint Triathlon in June. 

Guess I better quit blogging, and start working on my swimming.



Nutrition - Step 1

So as I get older I realize that no matter how active I get I can no longer afford to neglect my diet.  Not only for weight management reasons but for obvious health reasons.  To get down to the weight I want to reach is going to take a little sacrifice.  Not a lot, but some none the less.  Gone are cokes, and other carbonated beverages, replaced now with unsweet tea and water.  Goodbye fast food joints and fried foods, replaced by more meals at home and vegetables.

Still this wasn't quite enough.  Despite what all these different diets may tell you about the secrets to losing weight, one thing remains constant.  Calories.  You must put your body into caloric deficit in order to lose weight.  You must expend more calories, than you consume plain and simple.  In order to do that you have to know how many calories you are taking in.  I chose a website called myfitnesspal.com.  It is a great website with the most comprehensive food catalog I have found.  It is very user friendly and will help you determine how many calories you can take in, in order to achieve your weight loss objectives.  It also allows you to enter your physical activities and will include those calories burned in your net calories.  (BEWARE!!! I believe it overestimates calories burned for most activities).  It also has a smartphone app so you don't have an excuse to not enter foods while out and about.  I use this thing daily for every meal.  It is a virtual food journal and I think I owe a great deal of my success to the help I got from this website.

Next I had to learn to recognize and even embrace hunger.  Fact is in this time of instant gratification we often eat, or snack, or graze at the first hint of hunger.  Ignore this, come up with a plan, be it 3 square meals, 5 small meals, or some other variant, formulate a plan and then stick to it.  Force your body to adjust to your meal schedule, don't conform your meal schedule to your body.

Do not become scale obsessed.  I only step on a scale about once ever two weeks.  For me the minor fluctuations in weight were disheartening and would often discourage me if the number was higher today than it was yesterday.  If you're following your plan you will make progress, don't obsess over some number on a scale.  Look in the mirror, check the fit of your clothes, take stock of how you feel.  These are much better indicators of your progress than your weight.

Finally if you have a heavy day and go over your caloric limit, don't let it be a reason to stop all together.  It isn't the end of the world.  I didn't gain all that weight in one day and so missing the mark on calories one day isn't going to be the end of my progress.  Just realize where you went wrong and try to correct it on subsequent days.

Its working for me.  Last Wednesday I weighed in at 226.0 lbs which is down 24 lbs. from January 1, 2012 and down 34 lbs. from my heaviest weight.  It can be done provided your willing to make some sacrifices.

And now so it begins.  The quest for what seems in my mind right now to be insanity.  Why in the world would any sane person ever want to do this?  I asked myself that during my first duathlon this past weekend.  Why would I want to do this to myself all the time?  As I went for a run this morning, getting up at 5:00 a.m., why would I get up this early day after day?  Why would I, a rather large man, want to take up a sport dominated by men much smaller, faster, and fitter than I?  What possessed me, a man yet to even complete a full marathon, to set such a lofty goal of traversing 140.6 miles over a period of 17 hours using three different modes of locomotion?  What is it that drives me?

Honestly I'm not sure.  This whole thing started one day when I saw some pictures of myself at a Christmas concert and I said to myself, "Damn I have gotten fat." 

It wasn't a bold, groundbreaking revelation by any means.  I'd ventured on the scales from time to time and could not ignore the ever increasing numbers, but it wasn't until I viewed those oh so unflattering photos that it struck home that I had let myself go.  It was then that I harkened back many years to my time in the Corps at Texas A&M sitting around with my buddies telling them, "I see these guys who have gotten fat and I ask myself how did you let yourself get that way?"  And then I said it..."I'll never let myself get that out of shape."  Ouch.  Those words were like a hammer right between my eyes.  Back in those days I could run, do pushup, situps whatever you threw at me and I was a rough and ready 218.  Since that time I'd softened, been domesticated, gotten lazy and ballooned up to a maximum of 260 on July 31, 2011.  And still it took me another 5 months to come to terms with it.

I had to sit down and think about some things and look to the future.  I'd been eating terribly, frequenting fast food establishments, consuming large quantities of fried foods, abandoning vegetables at every opportunity.  My activity level had dropped significantly.  I had completed a half marathon in 2010 and upon completion returned to my old ways.  I signed up for another in December of 2011 almost a year later and though I did complete it I was severly humbled by the experience.  I hadn't trained at all and the extra weight I was carrying left me broken down and hobbling to the finish. 

Also I have a family history of heart problems and it was time I came to grips with the fact that I'm not getting any younger.  I've got three kids and a beautiful wife and everything to live for so why was I letting myself slide down this slippery slope.  So between my family medical history, the humbling half marathon experience, and the out and out embarassment of that picture I was determined it was time I reverse course.

So how do I go about it?  Two things above all will help turn back the tide.  Diet, and exercise, the one-two punch I would use to change it up.  On a smaller scale accountability.  I told everyone I knew that I was going to get back down to 220.  That I was going to take up triathlons and duathlons.  I started a running group at my church, and started hitting the pavement again.  I bought myself a bike and paid a larger sum than I normally would to give myself cause to use it.  And now I've started this blog to record my thoughts, show progress, and force myself to continue because now its public and I have to follow through.

I will get more into the specifics of my journey on later posts, now I'm just laying out where I was and where I want to go.  140.6 is a long way in more ways than one.  2.4 miles of swimming, 112 miles on the bike, and 26.2 miles of running.  More importantly its still a long way off in the future. 

I made this mistake once when preparing for my first marathon turned half marathon.  I decided arbitrarily I wanted to run a marathon, 8 or 9 months before it was to start.  I rationalized that I used to be able to run long distance easily enough and all it would take would be a little dedication.  About halfway through it I realized that if I continued to train for a full marathon my body wouldn't ever make it to the start.  So I swallowed some pride, admitted I wasn't the young in shape guy I once was and instead registered for the half marathon.  I finished and was proud of my accomplishment but then allowed myself to regress. 

Then I registered for another half marathong figuring that my experience would carry me to the finish line.  I trained very little, next to none despite the advisement of my wife, and showed up overweight and undertrained.  The next 13.1 miles (actually the first 5 weren't too bad) were a myriad of aching joints, burning legs, and humble pie eating.  After dragging my carcas across the finish line it was then I decided I would take on triathlons because I needed some variety in my training. 

Running day after day, week after week, would be to monotonous.  So why a full ironman?  Why 140.6 miles after such a train wreck of a half marathon?  Because folks if you're gonna be a bear, be a Grizzly.  Its the pinnacle it is the top and if you ain't trying to get there then you just ain't trying.  It will be two years before I consider giving it a shot, I'm looking at 2014 as a realistic goal.  Some may say I'll be two years older, but I'll also hopefully have two years of training under my belt which I hope/think will make all the difference.

So this year will be training, duathlons, training, sprint triathlons, training, olympic distance triathlons and oh yeah more training.  Next year duathlons, training, olympics, training, and then hopefully a half ironman.  The following year will be yet more training and then hopefully a full ironman.  Truth is I don't really have a good reason to do it.  I'm not even sure why I want to do it.  All I know is as of right now that is what I'm aiming for.

Will I succeed?  Will I reach my goal?  I can't say for sure right now.  But as the great Wayne Gretzky once said you miss 100% of the shots you don't take.