I had this idea one day as I was training. It’s a really quick peek at what the everyday (or at least every morning) looks like for triathletes preparing for a race.
There are days I wake up before the sun gets up and dread what’s on my training plan. By some gift of hard headedness I’ve been consistent and haven’t missed a workout. I can tell you that there is something that happens to you, when fight the urge to go back to bed and get your quality workout in everyday.
May 16, 6:18 pm
My ankle’s better now and the current theme of this phase of my life seems to be consistent daily training. Today’s plan was a 30 minute run.
I started feeling heavy. My shoes felt heavy. My hips were tight. My right foot & ankle had tight spots that were close to painful when I landed and pushed-off. I didn’t feel good at all. And the expectation that I could go faster and feel better, just made the current discomfort feel worse.
I decided to relax, focus on the present, and just keep going. After 20 or more minutes, things started to loosen up. I started to get faster and the run seemed to get easier. I felt lighter and had a rhythm going. I ended the run at exactly 30 minutes and felt so energized to start my day.
Today’s run seemed significant to me. Not clear yet why. There’s definitely a sense of accomplishment that comes with enduring crap.
But I think there’s also an element that speaks to something larger: there can be more bad than good, but the good stuff changes the way the bad stuff feels like. There’s someone I know who says that he has not enjoyed his teenage and adult life and seems to carry that chip on his shoulder till today. I told him once, “There can be more bad than good; but the little bit of good is going to make a world of difference.” Maybe it’s a matter of enduring it, or letting it go of how you think things should be or can be, or reframing the pain, or staying in the present. Whatever it is, you gotta do what’s got to be done to get past the bad parts to get to the good.
April 27, 2012. 9:32 am.
I sprained my ankle. Again. Same foot. Same place.
Two years ago, I sprained it 2 months away from the 70.3 in Cam Sur. I crammed therapy and training and just made it to the finish line before the cut-off. Last year, I sprained it again, 2 months before the 70.3 and decided cramming again wasn’t worth it.
This year I did it again.
My doctor says that my foot is already weakened in that area and is prone to getting injured. The magazines & websites say that injuries are caused by overuse or pushing the body to the limits of what it can tolerate. I don’t know if all that applies to me; but at the very least I can tell you three common things about this particular injury:
April 18, 2012. 7:07 am.
The 2nd chapter of this year’s road to the 70.3 in Cebu is Tri United 1. Just 2 weeks after the Pico Tri, it was time to pack the tri gear again and race. The plan for me is to do as many races as I can before the August race in Cebu. Racing, they say, is the best training. Physically you get to do all 3 sports in supervised conditions. And mentally, you go through race nerves and mid race adjustments.
So the gun went off at 7:30 am and we ran to the beach to start the swim leg. Again the plan was to try to swim together, pace each other and stay on the left to avoid the crowds. The plan basically blew apart in the first 50 meters. It could’ve been the slight current but the swim seemed more pack and frantic in the beginning. I swerved to the far left and found open water.
Finishing the 1st lap I found a team mate, Ed, and stayed on his heels. Ed’s a little faster than me and I kept on zig zagging in the water, so keeping up with him took some effort on my part. By the time I started the 2nd loop, I was hyperventilating. I took the first 15 meters, got so tired, and stopped & panicked. It just takes a split second to trigger panic and it’s so easy to fall into the downward spiral of giving in to the fear that leads to quitting the race.
There’s really something about open water that can trigger panic attacks and I was on the verge of one. I told myself to just take it easy, get my breathing, and relax. Before I could do anymore thinking I just jumped back in & kept at it. I got out at 24:51 for the 1k swim.
By the time I got to T1, almost my entire team was there. I’m fairly fast in transition and got out 1:40 — making up some lost time on the swim and actually overtaking some of the guys. Again it took some time for me to get my bike legs — maybe 5-7k. It just doesn’t feel right in the beginning. My breathing is labored and not in rhythm with my legs. My upper body and legs feel awkward. This time things didn’t seem to click for me on the bike so I just tried to keep a steady cadence. 30k done in 1:00:47. With a fancy dismount and 1:20 I was off the bike and out of T2 for the run. Things clicked for me on the run this time. I maintained a steady pace all throughout — after the requisite heavy bike legs in the first 2k. I complain about my lack of speed nowadays but luckily managed to gut out a 6 min/k pace and finished the 7k run in 41:59.
The nice thing about the 2 loop course was I saw all the ULAH team mates on the run. And this is the first race that we’re almost complete and wearing the new team kit. We’d high five and encourage each other on the run. In the end, this is what stands out for me in this race — it was a team race. For some it was their first open water swim, for others it was a quest for podium spots, and for all, I suspect, it was a race where we hoped to give whatever we had that day and hoped that those wearing the same colors were having a great race.
In the end our small team took 2nd place in the overall team competition — being inched out of first place by just 4 minutes.
(Pictures by Vida de Jesus, Unilab Active Health Team)
April 3, 2012. 5:46 am
The starting gun went off at 2:30 p.m. and we ran from the beach to the water. The plan was Adel (my team mate) and I would swim together since we both swim at the same pace. Even before we hit the water, I lost him in the crowd. The first 200 meters were tight. I could see Adel moving toward the buoy line on the right but was getting cut off or boxed in by the other swimmers. I stayed on the left and kept moving left where there were less people. Amazingly I got along side Adel and signaled him to follow me. We wove our way to the left, away from everyone trying to get to the buoys, and found open water. I felt good in the swim and by the end of the first loop, I could put in a good effort. Adel was with me as we started the 2nd loop.
In the swim, things just felt like they fell into place. I did this exhaling technique that relaxed me, didn’t bump into anyone, and didn’t even have to sight for the turns — I luckily would see the rope that anchored the corners of the buoys and just followed them to turn. I came out at 27:13.
Transition to the bike went smoothly. I didn’t practice T1 or even visualize it, but things just seemed to click smoothly: get shades, put on helmet, wear shades, get bike, hop on, feet on top of shoes, pedal, left foot in, right foot in, and go. The first flat 1+k around PIco de Loro was disorienting physically. I couldn’t get my gearing right and found my cadence awkward. I told myself to take it easy and relax.
Then the monster hill came. It’s about 500 meters but with a 14-17% grade. I shifted to my lowest gear and tried to float up the hill with a slow steady cadence. Things were going well 3/4ths of the first climb (vs how I exploded, literally, last year) but my heart rate was up and I was breathing heavily through my mouth. 1/4th of the way to go, I wanted to cry & the thought of stopping and walking crossed my mind. That’s how challenging that climb is. I saw the top of the hill though, so I just kept on going.
I found my bike legs in the flats of the first loop. I got on my aero bars and just tried to go as smoothly as I could. Amazingly, something clicked for me on the bike. I haven’t spent time on the aero position and was worried about shoulder & neck pain. Suddenly I found a position that just worked and I felt it the moment I got in it.
On the bike, I started burping like crazy and realized my lunch wasn’t fully digested. I felt full and didn’t think taking in the planned 2 gels was a good idea. I ended up taking only one. I started to fade in the 2nd loop but made it strongly up the last climbs and bombed the descents– which is a first for me… again something just seemed to click. I did a fancy dismount — which didn’t earn any cheers but a, “O, o, o, ingat!” from a by stander. Bike done in 1:20:02.
I started the run and could feel my quads were heavy. 700 meters into the first loop and both quads cramped. It wasn’t a debilitating cramp but I was scared it would get worse. So I walked and in every water station I poured water on my thighs. When it was bearable I would run. I took my time and ran the pace I could run (about 6:30/45) — focusing on relaxing, keeping my form, and trying to maintain a consistent pace. By the 3rd of 4 loops, the cramps wouldn’t go away so I ran with cramps. My foot falls felt good, I felt I had energy, I just couldn’t push the pace. So I decided to enjoy myself. And I found it strange that I was having such a good time while running with cramps. In the final kilometer I found another gear and was able to do a 5:45 pace to the finish the run in 55:35. Total official time was 2:42:50.
I honestly expected a little more from myself; but something at the end of race day closed out this chapter for me. I bumped into Greg Banzon in the hotel elevators. We asked how each other did. And then he said, “It never is easy, isn’t it?” Ya it never is. And I have the sore quads to prove it.
But that’s one reason why we do it: we challenge ourselves and see what our bodies can do and what our spirits can bear. My team mate, Mike, crashed on the bike. The marshals called for the ambulance, but he said he’d push through. Adel caught me on the run and said he was suffering from stomach cramps and a huge side stitch. But he kept on running. This, more than anything, defines what being a triathlete means for me. So after a year of being gone, I had a good race on the course that broke me last year and can say with sore quads, that I’m a triathlete again.
April 2, 2012. 6:45 am
A day before the Pico Tri, I still had race nerves. We did an easy swim and I had trouble breathing, my suit felt tight around my neck, and later on I felt weakness in my knees. So just at the edge of my consciousness was the awareness of potential panic: “If it’s like this in the pool, how bad is it going to be in open water?” Race nerves. Grrrr.
The question that always comes up when the race nerves hit is “Why am I doing this?” And getting to the answer every race is part of the journey for me. So I listened to my nerves and realized that I was anxious that I wouldn’t be able to do my best. At the same time, I was worried that if I tried to give it my best, I would blow out like last year and have a terrible race (see http://jakefindingwords.wordpress.com/2011/04/23/an-arghh-observed/). I had mentally boxed myself into a no-win-damn-if-you-do-damn-if-you-don’t-situation. Seeing and understanding this settled the nerves and helped me articulate what I wanted to do in this race: I just wanted to get back to racing and have a good time out there.
By the time we got to Pico de Loro, the monster hills didn’t seem to long anymore and the water seemed just right.
March 28, 2012. 5:28 am.
My first triathlon is this weekend and my brain is not yet ready.
That’s how the story of this year’s training and racing season begins. Physically I’ve been preparing for it. And I’m doing much more at the start of the year than I ever have before. I’ve been swimming with a coach since January. I’ve built a tribike and have been doing long rides. I’ve been running and have slowly built up my mileage but still have to deal with collapsing arches and finding the right shoes. I’ve done a 21k race and paced a team mate for 20 of his 42k.
Physically I’m ready for the 1.2k swim, 30k bike with monster hills, and 7k run. But my brain isn’t. I’ve been running through how I want to race, what gear I will use, and even imaging how it will be like but something still hasn’t clicked. I’m still a little hesitant and a little nervous.
But as I step back a little this morning and look at myself. this is how racing begins for me. It’s mental first. And sometimes the mind games are so intense that I say half the race is just getting to the starting line. So with these growing nerves, I guess the story of this year truly begins.
March 8, 2012. 6:15 am.
We share the significant experiences and insights of our lives. And I suspect for leaders, this is where they get their sense of purpose.
I was going to ask my class last night to try to put words to these significant lessons they have learned so far. And to be fair, I thought I’d do it myself too. After 30 minutes of cramming for the class last night, here are the 5 things that I have learned in my life that I really end up sharing with others in the videos produced, the classes taught, and even in the triathlon’s raced.
There are 2 kinds of stories: tragedies and comedies. Tragedies are stories that don’t end well. Comedies are those with a happy ending. I believe our stories end well because that is the pattern I see in my own life. I failed all my finance exams when I was taking my MBA; and 5 years later I became CFO to a holding company. (And no I didn’t sink the ship). As one wise old Jesuit put it, “God writes straight with crooked lines.”
In a week-long immersion once, we finished all the food in the house feeding 5 children in day 3 of our stay. The next day there was a sack of potatoes outside the door. And even today in our own businesses, money and work come when we need it. As one wise philosophy teacher once told me, “Jake, God hasn’t taken you this far to let you down now.”
2.To live afraid is safe; but it also builds regrets.
I know what it means to live afraid and find safety in the risk-free things we already know. For the longest time, I dreamt of building a production house that would produce TV shows that educate and inspire. The thing that stopped me was the fear of failure and the imagined difficulty. For those safe years, I had a safe job and a safe salary; but I always grumbled about doing what I wanted to do and grumbled about not being able to do it. A good and wise friend once asked me, “When you get old, will you regret not doing this?” I realized then that I’d rather try then fail, rather than not even try.
3. You don’t lose when you follow your heart, even if you lose.
So I tried and kept on trying. And their were some attempts that were hard and gave me white hair and were glorious failures. The days were long, the salary was small, and I felt a lot of expectation from my young idealistic team (who were also my best friends). But I would wake up everyday feeling good about what I was doing. And if I had to do it all over again, I still would. When you do what you love, you don’t lose even if it looks like you’re losing. And if in the end, it seems like you failed, go back to lesson-learned #1 above.
4. There is more to us than our fears and anxieties.
For the longest time I thought I was never good enough. And that unexamined self conclusion kept me afraid and anxious for the most part of my life. Through sheer luck of meeting people who were patient and guiding, I got out of that hole and realized I could be free.
I haven’t “arrived” or feel that I am a model of courage and conviction, but I know that I am more than my fears and anxieties make me out to be. Thinking of who can benefit from the little or much that I give, helps me get over those fears. The other one that gets me going is something I’ve learned from triathlons (and my favorite Livestrong shirt) “Whatever your 100% looks like, give it!”
5. One person and his/her small acts of making a difference will ripple and change the world.
My hope lies in the ripple effect… that the little or much that I do now will affect other people and they too will pass it on and so forth and so on.
Why?
Because others have done it to me. With what they said and how they said it, from my teachers to my friends, from those I race with and live with and teach, in the work that they do and in how they do it, whether they were conscious of it or not, they made a difference in my life. And it is that gift that I am giving back.
We share the significant experiences of our lives. And those gifts naturally moves us to share them. with others. A leadership academic observed that leaders are compelled to do what they do. He cites Martin Luther King responding to the warnings given to him as saying, “This is where I stand, I can do no other.” I put it another way: too much is given, much is asked how can I say no?
January 18, 2012. 8:08 pm.
I needed to get back to writing — and the kind of thinking that goes into the stuff I end up writing about. But as I looked at some drafts I started, this one seemed to call my attention. To those looking & searching or those who need a little bit of this, I hope it helps:
When you get in touch with your passions and those that have naturally been motivating you, the next question is: Now what do I do with them?
Here are some of the things I’ve seen, learned, and throw back to my class (and anyone who asks):
November 18, 2011
2:35 pm
I ran the other day and it was a hard run to get through.
It was hot, I still haven’t lost the extra pounds, and my lower legs were still sore from strength training two days before. I also wasn’t feeling too motivated. I’ve been in a funk recently and I woke up that day realizing that I’ve been waking up the past couple of mornings feeling defeated. So I ran.
I took it slow (9 mins/k) and just tried to get a rhythm going. Once my lower legs loosened up a little, I tried to go a little faster. Maybe it was the heat or something else, but I couldn’t keep on running. I had to do a run-walk. And there were many times that I walked rather than ran. And many more times I wanted to stop rather than go on.
As I struggled through this, I thought of what was bugging me. I tried to tear up the elements of the funk piece by piece as I went up and down streets. I realized that thinking that I had lost the battles of my current life, just made me spiral into a vicious cycle. It didn’t matter where that thought came from or what the logical arguments were to tell me that thought wasn’t true. Thoughts like that have their own logic which may not be logical. And no amount of self-analysis will get you out of the hole. So the only way out of the funk is to fight it.
I was mulling over this trying to find a way out but I got distracted. My legs were painful and I was struggling with the heat. So for about 45 mins all I could think about was putting one foot in front of the next no matter how uncomfortable that was.
I forced myself to finish the hour — even if resting seemed to be the more prudent training option — because there was something more that day than just getting a run in.
The character Rocky Balboa says in the final movie of the series that boxing is like life: it doesn’t matter how many times you’re knocked down. What matters is how many times you get up. I can tell you the same is true in running.
