Of which I will not participate in. Sorry. It's just not in me today. Instead, I'm spending my afternoon enjoying the fact that I've got nothing to do.
I rummaged through YouTube and coam across this site:http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tRB1p89k7_I. If you've never heard of Julie Moss, and never saw her finish at the 1982 Ironman, this video is worth a few minutes of your time.
I hear that "Mighty" Lance Armstrong has announced his intention to enter the 2011 World Ironman Championship, and he plan's to do more than win his age group. I bet he'll finish in under 9 hours. If nothing else, his participation will give the sport some much-needed exposure. As popular it is, it's not quite mainstream yet. I wonder if MLS is more popular...
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Images DO make lasting impressions...
Let's see-in the span of 5 weeks, I've been removed from my position as a 5th grade teacher and reassigned to teach 1st grade, been called "Grossly insubordinate" and "Disrespectful", had two disciplinary letters placed in my file, been accused of having no classroom management skills, and threatened with an "Unsatisfactory" year-end rating-in October. All by a principal who has never seen me teach, nor had a one-on-one conversation with me. Halloween came early this year.
On a different note, I came across this article: Nation's pupils find few black men to call Mister The Network Journal. It got me thinking about my place as an educator. In my school, I am the only male classroom teacher. There are a few other men-the gym teacher, two paraprofessionals and two resource teachers-but in terms of the one face who works with the same class for 180+ days a year, there's just me. The article really got me wondering why so few Black men get into this profession. Do we not like children? Are we unintelligent? Are we not wired to appreciate the concept of teaching others? I've come up with a reason why we have so few male teachers:
We've had very little images of them
I can't speak for the school system in the suburbs, but if you grew up in an urban community like I did, a considerable amount of your teachers looked like this:
Does she look like she lives in the South Bronx?
Now I must admit that in high school, there were plenty of male teachers (I went to an all-boys school, so I suppose the male presence had to be prominent). But the school was in Harlem. HARLEM! Explain to me why most of the teachers there looked like this:
On a different note, I came across this article: Nation's pupils find few black men to call Mister The Network Journal. It got me thinking about my place as an educator. In my school, I am the only male classroom teacher. There are a few other men-the gym teacher, two paraprofessionals and two resource teachers-but in terms of the one face who works with the same class for 180+ days a year, there's just me. The article really got me wondering why so few Black men get into this profession. Do we not like children? Are we unintelligent? Are we not wired to appreciate the concept of teaching others? I've come up with a reason why we have so few male teachers:
We've had very little images of them
I can't speak for the school system in the suburbs, but if you grew up in an urban community like I did, a considerable amount of your teachers looked like this:
Does she look like she lives in the South Bronx?Now I must admit that in high school, there were plenty of male teachers (I went to an all-boys school, so I suppose the male presence had to be prominent). But the school was in Harlem. HARLEM! Explain to me why most of the teachers there looked like this:
This guy reminds me of Mr. Mackey in high school. Someone once put gum on his pants. Another kid hemmed him up against the blackboard. Halloween lasted a year for him.
See where I'm going? Red Aurobach once told a story of when he passed through Roxbury, Massachusetts and saw a bunch of Black kids wearing Philadelphia Sixers and L.A. Lakers jerseys. He walked up to them and said they shouldn't be wearing those jerseys. They were in Boston, they should be representing the Celtics. What Red didn't get was that no one on the Celtics-at least, no one Black-was as dynamic as Magic Johnson or Julius Erving. Those kids could care less about the city on the front. It was all about the name on the back. Why do so many of our kids want to grow up to do various forms of entertainment? For one, it's cool. But another reason is because there are sooooooo many images of people who look like them and grew up the way they grew up, that they equate those forum as the only way to attain success and/or wealth. Why would "Malik City Kid" want to teach if he's rarely, if ever, seen a Black man do it? He's seen Black men sing, rap, act and play sports. Ask him what he aspires to be when he grows up, he'll probably give one of those options. But teach?!? That's just crazy talk.
I think that in order to change the education system, we need to take a serious look at the issues that plague it. A lack of men in the classroom is a big problem.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
To test a person's character, give them power...
As my triathlon season officially ends (I am going through some serious tri withdrawal), I'm officially gearing my attention towards the school year. 13 of a possible 180-something days are complete, and already, I'm annoyed. Not with the students. Not even with the parents. My ire so far is directed toward our administration. Without naming names or being too descriptive, my school has traded in one grumpy, middle-aged, nut job principal for another.
Recently, our new principal saw fit to berate us, the teaching staff, via the public address system because our outdoor bulletin boards were not up to a particular set of standards. Apparently, the person in question found it acceptable to do this 1) during school hours, when the students were in their respective classrooms and 2) towards the end of the day, when parents were in the building to pick up said children. So not only were our competency and intelligence called into question, but it was done so within earshot of everyone in the building. To me, that action set a tone that was harmful to the complexion of the school environment (Please bear in mind our school year is 13 days old. At this point, is it really necessary to walk around like this guy?!?!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6HdtO-ls3S0)
This behavior begs the question: why do school principals find it necessary to become a$$holes when they assume this position? Granted, I've only worked for two principals, but my previous one made it clear that they didn't like the staff (and initially didn't want to be in our school) they had, and my present principal just showed themselves to be somewhat foolish and/or irrational. That's not the type of person I feel comfortable working for. That's not a leader to me. We've all had that moment in our lives where we wished we could turn back the hands of time beacuse of something we said or did. But in this industry, I've learned that first impressions lasts a long time in the minds of everyone within a school community. Our principal's disappointment would've been better received if the guilty culprit(s) were met with individually, rather than the whole taking the fall for a few parts.
Phil Jackson once said that people should change jobs every seven or eight years so as to avoid stagnation and/or frustration.
I'm up to year nine. Maybe it's seriously time to find another chalkboard to write on...
Recently, our new principal saw fit to berate us, the teaching staff, via the public address system because our outdoor bulletin boards were not up to a particular set of standards. Apparently, the person in question found it acceptable to do this 1) during school hours, when the students were in their respective classrooms and 2) towards the end of the day, when parents were in the building to pick up said children. So not only were our competency and intelligence called into question, but it was done so within earshot of everyone in the building. To me, that action set a tone that was harmful to the complexion of the school environment (Please bear in mind our school year is 13 days old. At this point, is it really necessary to walk around like this guy?!?!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6HdtO-ls3S0)
This behavior begs the question: why do school principals find it necessary to become a$$holes when they assume this position? Granted, I've only worked for two principals, but my previous one made it clear that they didn't like the staff (and initially didn't want to be in our school) they had, and my present principal just showed themselves to be somewhat foolish and/or irrational. That's not the type of person I feel comfortable working for. That's not a leader to me. We've all had that moment in our lives where we wished we could turn back the hands of time beacuse of something we said or did. But in this industry, I've learned that first impressions lasts a long time in the minds of everyone within a school community. Our principal's disappointment would've been better received if the guilty culprit(s) were met with individually, rather than the whole taking the fall for a few parts.
Phil Jackson once said that people should change jobs every seven or eight years so as to avoid stagnation and/or frustration.
I'm up to year nine. Maybe it's seriously time to find another chalkboard to write on...
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Here I go, turn the page...
As one focal point ends, another one begins. The 2009-10 school year in New York City begins in 4 days. Wednesday will be my 9th year as a 5th grade teacher. The other day, I thought back to my first group of students (who I might add are college freshmen. Geez, where'd the time go?), and wondered how many of their educational careers were affected by my first-year mistakes. I concluded the answer to be "Very few, if any at all". This isn't because I was so great, but because it was only one year of their lives. I pray that somewhere along the way they received that uber-teacher who atoned for my screw-ups. Believe me, there were many.
Suffice to say, I'll be shifting my gears from triathlon to lesson plans. Due to a bike malfunction, my season ended last Wednesday, much earlier than planned. I was in full training mode for my Sept. 20th tri when the bike breakdown occured. As I was riding through Elmhurst, Queens, on my way to the Flushing Meadows Aquatic Center, my right pedal plopped right off. Yep, right off the crankset. Distance-wise, I was stuck in a tough place: too far from home to walk, and too far from the pool to walk. I spent 90 minutes rescrewing the pedal with my hand (not successful), pliers (a waste of time) and a wrench (effective, but not secure enough to last a mile). A detailed inspection of my damages revealed that the grooves in which my pedals were supposed to screw into had been grounded into a groove-less metal hole. I decided to count my losses and give my bike away on the spot. It was either that or re-enact the opening scene to "The Incredible Hulk" T.V. show where David Banner lost his cool changing his tire in the rain. Walking home, I found a guy who repairs and re-sells bikes and sold him mine for $20. I'm guessing I should've gotten at least $100 for it (I had a $300 hybrid), but that's how much I wanted it out of my hands. In the meantime, I'll spend the next 6 months swimming, running, and spin-biking. I'll also be doing research on a new, top-shelf road bike. If there's anyone out there who can guide me to a decent bike store within the 5 boroughs, your help would be appreciated. Pardon me for sounding a bit delusional, but now I know how pro-athletes feel when their season ends early and they're forced to wait an extended period of time to get back to their sport.
Get ready for some good teaching stories...
Suffice to say, I'll be shifting my gears from triathlon to lesson plans. Due to a bike malfunction, my season ended last Wednesday, much earlier than planned. I was in full training mode for my Sept. 20th tri when the bike breakdown occured. As I was riding through Elmhurst, Queens, on my way to the Flushing Meadows Aquatic Center, my right pedal plopped right off. Yep, right off the crankset. Distance-wise, I was stuck in a tough place: too far from home to walk, and too far from the pool to walk. I spent 90 minutes rescrewing the pedal with my hand (not successful), pliers (a waste of time) and a wrench (effective, but not secure enough to last a mile). A detailed inspection of my damages revealed that the grooves in which my pedals were supposed to screw into had been grounded into a groove-less metal hole. I decided to count my losses and give my bike away on the spot. It was either that or re-enact the opening scene to "The Incredible Hulk" T.V. show where David Banner lost his cool changing his tire in the rain. Walking home, I found a guy who repairs and re-sells bikes and sold him mine for $20. I'm guessing I should've gotten at least $100 for it (I had a $300 hybrid), but that's how much I wanted it out of my hands. In the meantime, I'll spend the next 6 months swimming, running, and spin-biking. I'll also be doing research on a new, top-shelf road bike. If there's anyone out there who can guide me to a decent bike store within the 5 boroughs, your help would be appreciated. Pardon me for sounding a bit delusional, but now I know how pro-athletes feel when their season ends early and they're forced to wait an extended period of time to get back to their sport.
Get ready for some good teaching stories...
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Temper Tantrums vs. Triathlons. Pick your poison...
I went through a fairly tough moment Sunday. And it wasn't from the rigors of an Olympic tri, nor was it from my 5th grade students. It was from someone diminutive, yet powerful and forceful enough to move mountains if they so please. Today's defeat came from my daughter. Her emotional outbursts whopped my a$$ today. And I learned a valuable lesson from it...
My daughter, whom I affectionately call "Chipmunk" (I woke up one morning to find she left bite marks on the top bars of her crib), is entering the Terrible Two's. Half of her responses center around the word "No". She whines. She has meltdowns. She throws things, like food, toys, and anything else she can get her hands on. It's a sight to see-sometimes. My wife has done a much better job of reading up on how to get toddlers to curtail their crankiness. I strictly follow her lead. This morning, however was one for the birds. I decided to be a good little daddy and take Chipmunk out for a walk while Mom got some rest. I propped in the stroller and made a B-Line for the park. It started off well enough, until she fussed with me when I kept giving her pushes on the swing. I asked her if she wanted to go on the slides. She nodded her head. Just to be sure, I asked again, and she nodded her head. So can someone explain to me why she fell out on the floor and put on a hissy-fit tantrum when I took her out of the swing?
I responded the way I always joked I would respond if my child had a tantrum in public: I left her right where she was and went along my way in the opposite direction. It didn't work the way I hoped it would. She still cried and didn't quite get up. The good news was that since the park was empty, I felt I could use this time to establish some ground rules about how to conduct ourselves in public. The bad news was that there were some women with their kids heading right towards us, about to occupy some park space. How lovely...
I convinced Chipmunk to go back on the swings, but she continued to put on the waterworks. As her waterworks flowed, I couldn't help but notice that next to the swings was a water sprinkler. THAT'S what she wanted. I asked her if she wanted to run in the water. She enthusiastically said yes. Sadly, I had to deliver the bad news that we couldn't do that. And with that came more tantrums and tears. I decided it was time to call it a day, what with the other park-goers gleefully using the swings, smiling away, yet slowly starting to stare at me. Have you ever tried putting a crying, defiant child in a stroller? You'll have more success eating soup with a fork. Honestly, this might've been tougher than the swimming leg of a tri.
I told my wife the story when we got home. She suggested I go online and Google "how to deal with temper tantrums". This some of what I learned:
1) Do NOT give in to her tantrum, whatsoever. Giving in to her screaming, foot-stamping demands lays the groundwork for a screaming, foot-stamping teenager (I knew this already, but reading it was extra reinforcement)
2) Ask her what she wants. Toddlers get tantrums when they cannot convey their feelings and wants into words. As my wife said, "Their comprehension grows faster than their ability to speak".
3) Don't worry about the other people if my child have a public meltdown. My objective was/is to calm my DAUGHTER down, not make the atmosphere pleasant for strangers. I should've found a quiet corner and given her time to regain her composure (Now THIS I didn't know. I will store this and use it for future reference)
4) Offer an alternative to pull her attention from whatever it is that's got her frustrated. Something along the lines of, "No, chipmnk. We can't go in the water. But we can go...." (Again, useful to store).
5) When all else fails, maybe a good 'ol hug will settle the nerves (A hug for ME, not her).
So that was my Sunday morning. I also found out the best time to get a ride around Forest Park is during the early morning hours, between 8-10 a.m. The roads are VERY free.
33 days until the FDNY Tri in Orchard Beach. I'm off to Savannah for a week. The running shoes are packed. My goal is to log 4 miles a day.
My daughter, whom I affectionately call "Chipmunk" (I woke up one morning to find she left bite marks on the top bars of her crib), is entering the Terrible Two's. Half of her responses center around the word "No". She whines. She has meltdowns. She throws things, like food, toys, and anything else she can get her hands on. It's a sight to see-sometimes. My wife has done a much better job of reading up on how to get toddlers to curtail their crankiness. I strictly follow her lead. This morning, however was one for the birds. I decided to be a good little daddy and take Chipmunk out for a walk while Mom got some rest. I propped in the stroller and made a B-Line for the park. It started off well enough, until she fussed with me when I kept giving her pushes on the swing. I asked her if she wanted to go on the slides. She nodded her head. Just to be sure, I asked again, and she nodded her head. So can someone explain to me why she fell out on the floor and put on a hissy-fit tantrum when I took her out of the swing?
I responded the way I always joked I would respond if my child had a tantrum in public: I left her right where she was and went along my way in the opposite direction. It didn't work the way I hoped it would. She still cried and didn't quite get up. The good news was that since the park was empty, I felt I could use this time to establish some ground rules about how to conduct ourselves in public. The bad news was that there were some women with their kids heading right towards us, about to occupy some park space. How lovely...
I convinced Chipmunk to go back on the swings, but she continued to put on the waterworks. As her waterworks flowed, I couldn't help but notice that next to the swings was a water sprinkler. THAT'S what she wanted. I asked her if she wanted to run in the water. She enthusiastically said yes. Sadly, I had to deliver the bad news that we couldn't do that. And with that came more tantrums and tears. I decided it was time to call it a day, what with the other park-goers gleefully using the swings, smiling away, yet slowly starting to stare at me. Have you ever tried putting a crying, defiant child in a stroller? You'll have more success eating soup with a fork. Honestly, this might've been tougher than the swimming leg of a tri.
I told my wife the story when we got home. She suggested I go online and Google "how to deal with temper tantrums". This some of what I learned:
1) Do NOT give in to her tantrum, whatsoever. Giving in to her screaming, foot-stamping demands lays the groundwork for a screaming, foot-stamping teenager (I knew this already, but reading it was extra reinforcement)
2) Ask her what she wants. Toddlers get tantrums when they cannot convey their feelings and wants into words. As my wife said, "Their comprehension grows faster than their ability to speak".
3) Don't worry about the other people if my child have a public meltdown. My objective was/is to calm my DAUGHTER down, not make the atmosphere pleasant for strangers. I should've found a quiet corner and given her time to regain her composure (Now THIS I didn't know. I will store this and use it for future reference)
4) Offer an alternative to pull her attention from whatever it is that's got her frustrated. Something along the lines of, "No, chipmnk. We can't go in the water. But we can go...." (Again, useful to store).
5) When all else fails, maybe a good 'ol hug will settle the nerves (A hug for ME, not her).
So that was my Sunday morning. I also found out the best time to get a ride around Forest Park is during the early morning hours, between 8-10 a.m. The roads are VERY free.
33 days until the FDNY Tri in Orchard Beach. I'm off to Savannah for a week. The running shoes are packed. My goal is to log 4 miles a day.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
How Safe Can We REALLY Be?
Before I begin, I'd like to mention that I've had this blog for a little over a month now. I find it odd that Google hasn't accepted me for their AdSense. Don't they know how BLAND my page looks without some ads for you people to click on? I'm tryin' to get paid here! I've got kids to feed (actually, I have one child, but if you count my dog, then that's two, hence, kids).
On to my thoughts...
I was watching a documentary on Jim McKay, who was a broadcaster for ABC's "Wide World of Sports" from the 1960's to early 2000's. He's also known for covering the 1972 Olympics from Munich, Germany, where 11 members of the Israeli team were kidnapped and ultimately killed. Just before he made the announcement of their death on live television, he referenced a quote that went something along the lines of, "Our biggest dreams and greatest fears are seldom experienced". That quote came to mind this evening when I read a Twitter link on a triathlete who was killed in a race by a drunk driver (http://www.wave3.com/Global/story.asp?S=10839689). The victim was hit from behind by a man who had a history of DUI's, as well as a suspended license. After the accident, the driver continued on his way-despite the fact that the victim's bike was lodged in the windshield of his car. Then there's the story of the Argentinian who died at last year's NYC Triathlon (http://nbcsports.msnbc.com/id/25774529/)
Depending on your religious beliefs, occurrences like these could be chalked up as an example of how the "Lord Giveth and Taketh Away". But in reality, was it their time, or could their accidents have been avoided? Tragic deaths aren't limited to athletes. However, due to the nature of this sport, you have to wonder if there were any precautionary measure that could've been taken to avoid their death. So, seeing as how swimming is my weakest leg, I've decided that next week I'm going to invest in a new product: SwimSafe (http://www.triaids.com/). It's a floatation device that ties around your waist. It kinda looks like something you'd find under your seat on a plane in the event of an emergency. To me, it makes sense to have something that will ease my fears in the big, scary water. Besides, it might get my wife to relax a bit and not worry about me drowning and leaving her a single mother widow. Nothing is sure-proof, but as I teach my students in the classroom, "Confidence is half the battle. The other half is preparation".
Having written all that, here's the contradiction that is my life: I haven't done a lick of training in 2 1/2 weeks. I think my novice head got somewhat lazy and gassed-up over finishing the Mossman Tri in under 2 hours. Geez, you'd think I came back from Kona. My next scheduled race is August 30th in Staten Island (My wife doesn't want me to do the race because, as she put it, "You'll catch something nasty in them waters"). I've got 25 days to get my tukkus in gear. Other than enjoying my summer vacation of nothingness, what's holding me back is the rusty rough patch you hit when you haven't done something in a while. But starting tomorrow morning, I'm getting out there.
Random Thoughts:
*I asked my daughter what sound a dog makes. She said, "Arf, arf, arf". I asked her what sound a cow makes. She said, "Mooooooo". I asked her what sound a pig makes. She said, "Pig, pig, pig". Toddlers rule!!
*I don't understand how one could choose the Iraq-Iran border as the ideal place for hiking. Something is VERY up with that story...
*Today is my 3rd wedding anniversary
This is one of my favorite photos from the 3 bazillion we took that day. Time really flies, man.
*Anybody want to help me create a kick-@ss website? Something that combines my teaching, triathlon and adventures. There are some ideas in my head, but I need guidance on how to get them out.
On to my thoughts...
I was watching a documentary on Jim McKay, who was a broadcaster for ABC's "Wide World of Sports" from the 1960's to early 2000's. He's also known for covering the 1972 Olympics from Munich, Germany, where 11 members of the Israeli team were kidnapped and ultimately killed. Just before he made the announcement of their death on live television, he referenced a quote that went something along the lines of, "Our biggest dreams and greatest fears are seldom experienced". That quote came to mind this evening when I read a Twitter link on a triathlete who was killed in a race by a drunk driver (http://www.wave3.com/Global/story.asp?S=10839689). The victim was hit from behind by a man who had a history of DUI's, as well as a suspended license. After the accident, the driver continued on his way-despite the fact that the victim's bike was lodged in the windshield of his car. Then there's the story of the Argentinian who died at last year's NYC Triathlon (http://nbcsports.msnbc.com/id/25774529/)
Depending on your religious beliefs, occurrences like these could be chalked up as an example of how the "Lord Giveth and Taketh Away". But in reality, was it their time, or could their accidents have been avoided? Tragic deaths aren't limited to athletes. However, due to the nature of this sport, you have to wonder if there were any precautionary measure that could've been taken to avoid their death. So, seeing as how swimming is my weakest leg, I've decided that next week I'm going to invest in a new product: SwimSafe (http://www.triaids.com/). It's a floatation device that ties around your waist. It kinda looks like something you'd find under your seat on a plane in the event of an emergency. To me, it makes sense to have something that will ease my fears in the big, scary water. Besides, it might get my wife to relax a bit and not worry about me drowning and leaving her a single mother widow. Nothing is sure-proof, but as I teach my students in the classroom, "Confidence is half the battle. The other half is preparation".
Having written all that, here's the contradiction that is my life: I haven't done a lick of training in 2 1/2 weeks. I think my novice head got somewhat lazy and gassed-up over finishing the Mossman Tri in under 2 hours. Geez, you'd think I came back from Kona. My next scheduled race is August 30th in Staten Island (My wife doesn't want me to do the race because, as she put it, "You'll catch something nasty in them waters"). I've got 25 days to get my tukkus in gear. Other than enjoying my summer vacation of nothingness, what's holding me back is the rusty rough patch you hit when you haven't done something in a while. But starting tomorrow morning, I'm getting out there.
Random Thoughts:
*I asked my daughter what sound a dog makes. She said, "Arf, arf, arf". I asked her what sound a cow makes. She said, "Mooooooo". I asked her what sound a pig makes. She said, "Pig, pig, pig". Toddlers rule!!
*I don't understand how one could choose the Iraq-Iran border as the ideal place for hiking. Something is VERY up with that story...
*Today is my 3rd wedding anniversary
This is one of my favorite photos from the 3 bazillion we took that day. Time really flies, man.*Anybody want to help me create a kick-@ss website? Something that combines my teaching, triathlon and adventures. There are some ideas in my head, but I need guidance on how to get them out.
*Rummaging through Twitter led me to a book review about my high school alma mater. I'm really curious about its content. To my knowledge, there aren't too many books dedicated to the going-on of a high school.
Until next time. Paz a todos los hermanos....
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
You're up at 3:45 a.m.?? To race?!?!
PART II
So as reply the Might Mossman Tri in my mind, there are alot of other things going on in my head: like opening my doors to my two nieces for the week. WONDERFUL, WONDERFUL, children. Their smiles are infectious. Their energy sucks you dry. As they head out tomorrow, I've got a day and a half to recharge and open the doors to my Dad, whose coming in from D.C. Then, we round up my wife, my daughter and Dad for a weekend in Atlantic City. Ugh. This week sure is busy. But you didn't log on read to about that...
...Back to the tri.
6:45-the horn sounded and I began my swim. Remember, I'm a bad swimmer , so I purposely stayed in the back of the pack so as to avoid the bumps and hustle from the other competitors. Now, I don't know if I was feeling a sense of anxiety or fear, but what should have been a simple swim to the first buoy turned out to be more tense than expected-even swimming by myself. Heck, I should have swam with the pack if I was going to feel like this.
I reached the first buoy and took a few moments to catch my breath as planned. Surprisingly, I heard someone else ask me to make some space for them. That was weird. There was something comforting about another novice needing a few minutes to get his wits together after an adrenaline-rushed 70 meters. I had to chuckle at that. So there were Kris and I, hanging on to a lifeguard's boat, catching our breath to go back towards the second buoy. We calmed down, we swam, we got to the second buoy. We repeated the process to the third, fourth, fifth and final buoy. I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the lifeguards who stayed with us for our entire swim. They probably said to each other, "Hey. Watch these guys; one of them might drown". But that's not the point. Their presence mad me comfortable. Another thing that put me at ease was finding my groove after the third buoy. It almost felt like the current was guiding me along. That, coupled with me gaining control of my form, made the second half of the swim more relaxing. Did I mention how calm the water was, and how calm I eventually became?
Swim time: 27:39
Transition 1: 2:55-I didn't have any problems-Other than the slight embarrassment of seeing that my bike was one of 4 or 5 left in transition. Hey, such is life. Who's that chit-chatting with me again? Why, it's my guy Kris. You know, people look so different without a swim cap on their head.
Helmet's on, shades are on, shoes are on-Let's hit the bike!! And I must say, what a smooth ride. Again, I have to thank my TNT coaches for giving me sound advice on how to make up time on the bike after a swim. 1st lap, get out there like a bat out of hell. That's what I did. It was all good until I felt the dreaded "bonk" coming along. Oooooh boy. My legs were quickly turning into jelly. The drinks weren't helpful. Neither was the Gu. So I remembered my second bit of advice: a third of the way in (in this case the end of the first lap), slow it down and give yourself time to recover for the final stretch. Luckily, this came during the downhill stretch. What relief. And again, I looked over to my left, and there was my anchor-buddy Kris (I hope he doesn't mind me using his name. Maybe I'll refer to him as "Todd" from now on). So "Todd" and I had a (very) brief conversation. I believe he passed me. But even that moment to relax was great to relieve me of my potential bonk.
Bike Time: 50:37
Transition 2: 1:58 no problems here. Just in and out
Two-thirds of the day done. As a passer-by put it, "You don't have to worry about drowning. You don't have to worry about a flat. You're home free". And that I was. I think I pitter-pattered for the first mile. Turning the corner out into the main roads, I saw my guy Kr...pardon, Todd, one last time. I made it a point to remind myself to wait for him once I reached the finish line. In what felt like an instant, the 2-mile mark popped in front of me. And I had 15 minutes to spare in my quest to finish in under 2 hours. Oh, this is gonna be fun!! In my little world, I was having a race against the clock. Going through the run, I allowed for my mind to wander about what it was that I was doing. I was up before dawn to run a triathlon. What amazed me even more is the fact that it wasn't anywhere 9:00. It was so early in the morning to be doing this. My friends and family were sleeping. NICE!!
Run time: 34:27
Total time: 1:57:27
Two races under my belt and many more to come. The ride back home was so much fun and rewarding. The only thing missing was my wife, my daughter and a big breakfast platter of eggs, sausage and home fries. I was also most appreciative of my encounter with Kris. I read somewhere that the camaraderie triathletes share lies in the fact that they're ordinary people doing an extraordinary. Because of that, they're quick to support and congratulate each other. I'm happy to say I personally experienced that. AND I BROKE 2 HOURS!! WOO-HOO!!
So as reply the Might Mossman Tri in my mind, there are alot of other things going on in my head: like opening my doors to my two nieces for the week. WONDERFUL, WONDERFUL, children. Their smiles are infectious. Their energy sucks you dry. As they head out tomorrow, I've got a day and a half to recharge and open the doors to my Dad, whose coming in from D.C. Then, we round up my wife, my daughter and Dad for a weekend in Atlantic City. Ugh. This week sure is busy. But you didn't log on read to about that...
...Back to the tri.
6:45-the horn sounded and I began my swim. Remember, I'm a bad swimmer , so I purposely stayed in the back of the pack so as to avoid the bumps and hustle from the other competitors. Now, I don't know if I was feeling a sense of anxiety or fear, but what should have been a simple swim to the first buoy turned out to be more tense than expected-even swimming by myself. Heck, I should have swam with the pack if I was going to feel like this.
I reached the first buoy and took a few moments to catch my breath as planned. Surprisingly, I heard someone else ask me to make some space for them. That was weird. There was something comforting about another novice needing a few minutes to get his wits together after an adrenaline-rushed 70 meters. I had to chuckle at that. So there were Kris and I, hanging on to a lifeguard's boat, catching our breath to go back towards the second buoy. We calmed down, we swam, we got to the second buoy. We repeated the process to the third, fourth, fifth and final buoy. I'd be remiss if I didn't thank the lifeguards who stayed with us for our entire swim. They probably said to each other, "Hey. Watch these guys; one of them might drown". But that's not the point. Their presence mad me comfortable. Another thing that put me at ease was finding my groove after the third buoy. It almost felt like the current was guiding me along. That, coupled with me gaining control of my form, made the second half of the swim more relaxing. Did I mention how calm the water was, and how calm I eventually became?
Swim time: 27:39
Transition 1: 2:55-I didn't have any problems-Other than the slight embarrassment of seeing that my bike was one of 4 or 5 left in transition. Hey, such is life. Who's that chit-chatting with me again? Why, it's my guy Kris. You know, people look so different without a swim cap on their head.
Helmet's on, shades are on, shoes are on-Let's hit the bike!! And I must say, what a smooth ride. Again, I have to thank my TNT coaches for giving me sound advice on how to make up time on the bike after a swim. 1st lap, get out there like a bat out of hell. That's what I did. It was all good until I felt the dreaded "bonk" coming along. Oooooh boy. My legs were quickly turning into jelly. The drinks weren't helpful. Neither was the Gu. So I remembered my second bit of advice: a third of the way in (in this case the end of the first lap), slow it down and give yourself time to recover for the final stretch. Luckily, this came during the downhill stretch. What relief. And again, I looked over to my left, and there was my anchor-buddy Kris (I hope he doesn't mind me using his name. Maybe I'll refer to him as "Todd" from now on). So "Todd" and I had a (very) brief conversation. I believe he passed me. But even that moment to relax was great to relieve me of my potential bonk.
Bike Time: 50:37
Transition 2: 1:58 no problems here. Just in and out
Two-thirds of the day done. As a passer-by put it, "You don't have to worry about drowning. You don't have to worry about a flat. You're home free". And that I was. I think I pitter-pattered for the first mile. Turning the corner out into the main roads, I saw my guy Kr...pardon, Todd, one last time. I made it a point to remind myself to wait for him once I reached the finish line. In what felt like an instant, the 2-mile mark popped in front of me. And I had 15 minutes to spare in my quest to finish in under 2 hours. Oh, this is gonna be fun!! In my little world, I was having a race against the clock. Going through the run, I allowed for my mind to wander about what it was that I was doing. I was up before dawn to run a triathlon. What amazed me even more is the fact that it wasn't anywhere 9:00. It was so early in the morning to be doing this. My friends and family were sleeping. NICE!!
Run time: 34:27
Total time: 1:57:27
Two races under my belt and many more to come. The ride back home was so much fun and rewarding. The only thing missing was my wife, my daughter and a big breakfast platter of eggs, sausage and home fries. I was also most appreciative of my encounter with Kris. I read somewhere that the camaraderie triathletes share lies in the fact that they're ordinary people doing an extraordinary. Because of that, they're quick to support and congratulate each other. I'm happy to say I personally experienced that. AND I BROKE 2 HOURS!! WOO-HOO!!
Monday, July 20, 2009
Up at 3:45 a.m.? For a race?!?!
PART I
Really, people. you have to be a special kind of something to get up at 3:45 a.m. for anything. That time reserved for the core of your nightly sleep. But yesterday, that was me. I was up before the crack of dawn, ready to take on my second-ever triathlon in Norwalk, CT. I had full intentions of going to bed no later than 9:00, but when there are children in your life, you learn quickly that sometimes, your hopes and intentions are just that: hopes and intentions. I didn't hit the bed until I fed the dog, walked the dog, threw out the garbage, and racked my bike up to the back of the car. Bedtime turned out to be 10:45. My wife insisted that I go to bed and that she'd handle whatever she could, but I felt guilty leaving her with the rest of the nightly chores while she tended to our two visiting nieces. Did I mention my nieces were staying with us? Not exactly a peaceful night before race day at the Casa de SoulBrother.
3:45 a.m.- Alarm went off. No snooze button today. I lubed up, threw on my gear and grabbed breakfast: Cheerios, an orange, homemade iced coffee. I would have liked to have some oatmeal, but there was no time for that. And based on my experience from the CapTex Triathlon in May, my body just doesn't respond to heavy meals on race day.
4:20-Out the door. You know, the city sky doesn't seem so muggy and dreary at this time of day. There's a sense of beauty to the crescent moon and 16 stars (yes, I really counted).
4:50-Driving along I-95 North. Raphael Saddiq's "Live at the House of Blues" album was keeping me company. The best part was when he reunited with Tony Toni Tone and they performed their medley of hits. I find myself lately wondering where the good music went. Something about today's "singers" disturb me. But I digress. I've had no element of fear and/or nervousness this whole weekend-until I saw the "Welcome to Connecticut" border sign. Oh boy. Here come the flutters in my stomach. I needed a bathroom. I needed to pull over. I thought I might even need to make a U-turn and head south. Seriously, was I ready for this??
5:30-I arrived at Calf Pasture Beach. East Norwalk is a pretty town, by the way. It reminded me of Mystic, CT or the Nautical Mile in Freeport, NY. My wave was scheduled to start at 6:45. I felt that 1:15 would be enough time to register, set up in transition, and do my usual restroom ritual (see my last blog if you're curious of what that last part is about). Speaking of which, a man announced over the PA system where the restrooms were. To my surprise and glee, they were REAL RESTROOMS!! NO PORT-O-POTTIES!!! I felt my confidence building up again just off of that announcement. This day was going to be great. And the weather, I must add, was gorgeous. Let me find my place on the registration line...
5:55-Okay, why is this line so long? I'm nowhere near the sign-in desk. I heard people around me share my concern. Some competitors were convinced that the race wouldn't start on time. They weren't complaining over it; they thought the extra time would be necessary, considering the length of the registration line. I haven't seen the transition area yet. Man, the last thing I needed was to miss my wave, and miss the race. That couldn't happen, right? RIGHT??
6:10-I'm signed in. Whew. I receive my BIB #: 526. My goodie bag has some very interesting items: a Conair brush and stretch mark removal lotion to name a few. What am I supposed to do with this? Heading over to transition, I saw no space for my things. Very nice. I looked at how pretty the other racers hogged up the space. "Wow, look at that" I thought to myself, "A helmet got its own area". Then I looked over to my left, where this guy with a beach towel-sized mat was using only a third of the towel for his things. I decided not to mess with anyone's routine, so I set up against the wall. Three-quarters of the way through my set-up, a race official came over to tell me that I had to set up on a bike rack.
Me: "But it's too full"
Him: "Yeah, I know. Sorry. I know it's a pain"
Me: "So can I at least find an open space somewhere else?"
Him: "No. You have to stay in the designated area"
Me: "But it's too...
I stopped my thought right there. This was not the day to argue. I was nervous already.
Just then, an announcement was made: "ALL TRIATHLETES PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE BEACH". I wasn't near ready to move on. I hadn't put on my wetsuit, hadn't gone to the restroom. I hadn't even set up my running and cycling gear the way I would've wanted. My stuff was all over the place. So much for the fung schway transition area I wanted to set up: I gotta get outta here!! If my Team in Training coaches saw the discombobulation that was my transition, I think they would've forced me to run 5 bricks and 10 90-minute out-an-backs.
6:20-restroom break. Needed that.
6:30-off to the beach. Wave 1 already started. It looked peaceful. I got some strokes in and the water was quite relaxing. I especially liked the fact that you can walk into the swim, rather than jumping in like you'd have to do in a lake. Upon review of the swim course, I set up my game plan: at every buoy (6), stop for a one minute rest.
6:35-Wave 2 started their swim
6:40-Wave 3 started their swim. With my last 5 minutes, I said a quick prayer, made little chit-chat with a couple 1st-timers and stayed to the rear of the pack. It's more important for me to stay by myself than get punches and kicks to the head. I am NOT ready to deal with that yet.
6:45-The horn went off. So did I. Part two comes tomorrow...
Really, people. you have to be a special kind of something to get up at 3:45 a.m. for anything. That time reserved for the core of your nightly sleep. But yesterday, that was me. I was up before the crack of dawn, ready to take on my second-ever triathlon in Norwalk, CT. I had full intentions of going to bed no later than 9:00, but when there are children in your life, you learn quickly that sometimes, your hopes and intentions are just that: hopes and intentions. I didn't hit the bed until I fed the dog, walked the dog, threw out the garbage, and racked my bike up to the back of the car. Bedtime turned out to be 10:45. My wife insisted that I go to bed and that she'd handle whatever she could, but I felt guilty leaving her with the rest of the nightly chores while she tended to our two visiting nieces. Did I mention my nieces were staying with us? Not exactly a peaceful night before race day at the Casa de SoulBrother.
3:45 a.m.- Alarm went off. No snooze button today. I lubed up, threw on my gear and grabbed breakfast: Cheerios, an orange, homemade iced coffee. I would have liked to have some oatmeal, but there was no time for that. And based on my experience from the CapTex Triathlon in May, my body just doesn't respond to heavy meals on race day.
4:20-Out the door. You know, the city sky doesn't seem so muggy and dreary at this time of day. There's a sense of beauty to the crescent moon and 16 stars (yes, I really counted).
4:50-Driving along I-95 North. Raphael Saddiq's "Live at the House of Blues" album was keeping me company. The best part was when he reunited with Tony Toni Tone and they performed their medley of hits. I find myself lately wondering where the good music went. Something about today's "singers" disturb me. But I digress. I've had no element of fear and/or nervousness this whole weekend-until I saw the "Welcome to Connecticut" border sign. Oh boy. Here come the flutters in my stomach. I needed a bathroom. I needed to pull over. I thought I might even need to make a U-turn and head south. Seriously, was I ready for this??
5:30-I arrived at Calf Pasture Beach. East Norwalk is a pretty town, by the way. It reminded me of Mystic, CT or the Nautical Mile in Freeport, NY. My wave was scheduled to start at 6:45. I felt that 1:15 would be enough time to register, set up in transition, and do my usual restroom ritual (see my last blog if you're curious of what that last part is about). Speaking of which, a man announced over the PA system where the restrooms were. To my surprise and glee, they were REAL RESTROOMS!! NO PORT-O-POTTIES!!! I felt my confidence building up again just off of that announcement. This day was going to be great. And the weather, I must add, was gorgeous. Let me find my place on the registration line...
5:55-Okay, why is this line so long? I'm nowhere near the sign-in desk. I heard people around me share my concern. Some competitors were convinced that the race wouldn't start on time. They weren't complaining over it; they thought the extra time would be necessary, considering the length of the registration line. I haven't seen the transition area yet. Man, the last thing I needed was to miss my wave, and miss the race. That couldn't happen, right? RIGHT??
6:10-I'm signed in. Whew. I receive my BIB #: 526. My goodie bag has some very interesting items: a Conair brush and stretch mark removal lotion to name a few. What am I supposed to do with this? Heading over to transition, I saw no space for my things. Very nice. I looked at how pretty the other racers hogged up the space. "Wow, look at that" I thought to myself, "A helmet got its own area". Then I looked over to my left, where this guy with a beach towel-sized mat was using only a third of the towel for his things. I decided not to mess with anyone's routine, so I set up against the wall. Three-quarters of the way through my set-up, a race official came over to tell me that I had to set up on a bike rack.
Me: "But it's too full"
Him: "Yeah, I know. Sorry. I know it's a pain"
Me: "So can I at least find an open space somewhere else?"
Him: "No. You have to stay in the designated area"
Me: "But it's too...
I stopped my thought right there. This was not the day to argue. I was nervous already.
Just then, an announcement was made: "ALL TRIATHLETES PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE BEACH". I wasn't near ready to move on. I hadn't put on my wetsuit, hadn't gone to the restroom. I hadn't even set up my running and cycling gear the way I would've wanted. My stuff was all over the place. So much for the fung schway transition area I wanted to set up: I gotta get outta here!! If my Team in Training coaches saw the discombobulation that was my transition, I think they would've forced me to run 5 bricks and 10 90-minute out-an-backs.
6:20-restroom break. Needed that.
6:30-off to the beach. Wave 1 already started. It looked peaceful. I got some strokes in and the water was quite relaxing. I especially liked the fact that you can walk into the swim, rather than jumping in like you'd have to do in a lake. Upon review of the swim course, I set up my game plan: at every buoy (6), stop for a one minute rest.
6:35-Wave 2 started their swim
6:40-Wave 3 started their swim. With my last 5 minutes, I said a quick prayer, made little chit-chat with a couple 1st-timers and stayed to the rear of the pack. It's more important for me to stay by myself than get punches and kicks to the head. I am NOT ready to deal with that yet.
6:45-The horn went off. So did I. Part two comes tomorrow...
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Duh!! Of course you have to breathe when you're swimming!!
Hope everyone enjoyed their July 4th weekend. I must say that the older I get, the less motivated I am to do something to celebrate the holiday. I think I can attribute it to having a larger family. My family now consists of the Mrs., my daughter, in-laws, my own brother, sister and parents and some nieces and nephews. Suffice to say, I'd rather grill it up, down some beers and watch the game of choice on the tube. It's just way too much work to round everyone up and plan a trip. But it's nice to relax.
Moving on, today was a decent practice. The Mossman Tri is two weeks away. I realized that I hadn't been on a bike since finishing the CapTex Triathlon in May, in part because my bike is on its last legs and EVERYTHING seems to go wrong with it, like 4 front flat tires on race day. Since this summer will mark the end of my hybrid cycle, I figured I should get some "Good-Bye miles" in. I cycled for about 12 miles around Forest Park, then rode to the gym and logged in another 2 miles on the treadmill. I would've biked another lap or two, but I saw the front wheel running low AGAIN (For the record, I don't think it's the inner tube). An admitted light workout, but one that got me to believe that I could compete comfortably on the 19th. Now if I could just get swimming down...
Speaking of which, I'm slowly starting to feel comfortable with being in water. Little by little, the things I learned as a Team in Training member are starting to make sense. Mind you, I'm still slow, and I'm not the best at treading water, but I can move smoothly-as long as I remember to breathe. Sounds silly to say, but breathing is such an important element to swimming. My coach at TNT taught me to turn my head without raising it, and look back to get in a good breath. It worked pretty well yesterday. My other concern is finding the best time of day to get in the pool. Public pools are just that: public. It's hard to share a lane with as many as 5 people. But then again, I convince myself that in open water swimming, I've got to deal with the bumping and pushing from other competitors. I might as well get used to it here.
So my plans for tomorrow's practice is to get in another 1/2 mile of swimming in. I might also run a 5k. You know how I can tell I really like this sport? I'm willing to get up on the 19th at 3 a.m., leave the house at 4 a.m., drive along the Van Wyck Expressway and I-95 North for an hour to be in Norwalk, CT by 5:00-5:30 a.m., all for a race that I know good and well I won't win. And I'm willing to do it to just to be around the wonderful triathlon community. That to me is passion. We should all have something in our lives that moves us so much. Guess I'm lucky, because I've got about four means of motivation in my life: wife, baby, family, and now the tri.
Random Thoughts time:
*I'm still amazed at how tastefully done the MJ ceremony was. I really expected a media circus, and it turned out to be the complete opposite. The Jacksons, for once, looked like a family, not a bunch of personalities.
*I'm hearing that LeBron James got dunked on by a college player at his summer camp. To protect his image, he and the NIKE reps confiscated all videos of the game and subsequent dunk, making the moment something of urban legend. R. Kelly should've had that forsight...
*What's up with the celebrities passing away?!?! There's been about 5 in two weeks. Is someone trying to tell us something?
*If the mighy Lance Armstrong places anywhere in the top three of the Tour De France after his 4-year layoff, can we rank him as one of the top five athletes...of all time?
*Anybody want a dog? As I type this, my chihuahua/terrier mutt threw up on our brand new area rug. Needless to say, the Mrs. is LIVID. I can do so much for Lola, but she's on thin ice.
*"Family Guy" is much funnier now, as opposed to its earlier years when Stewie was trying to rule the world.
Moving on, today was a decent practice. The Mossman Tri is two weeks away. I realized that I hadn't been on a bike since finishing the CapTex Triathlon in May, in part because my bike is on its last legs and EVERYTHING seems to go wrong with it, like 4 front flat tires on race day. Since this summer will mark the end of my hybrid cycle, I figured I should get some "Good-Bye miles" in. I cycled for about 12 miles around Forest Park, then rode to the gym and logged in another 2 miles on the treadmill. I would've biked another lap or two, but I saw the front wheel running low AGAIN (For the record, I don't think it's the inner tube). An admitted light workout, but one that got me to believe that I could compete comfortably on the 19th. Now if I could just get swimming down...
Speaking of which, I'm slowly starting to feel comfortable with being in water. Little by little, the things I learned as a Team in Training member are starting to make sense. Mind you, I'm still slow, and I'm not the best at treading water, but I can move smoothly-as long as I remember to breathe. Sounds silly to say, but breathing is such an important element to swimming. My coach at TNT taught me to turn my head without raising it, and look back to get in a good breath. It worked pretty well yesterday. My other concern is finding the best time of day to get in the pool. Public pools are just that: public. It's hard to share a lane with as many as 5 people. But then again, I convince myself that in open water swimming, I've got to deal with the bumping and pushing from other competitors. I might as well get used to it here.
So my plans for tomorrow's practice is to get in another 1/2 mile of swimming in. I might also run a 5k. You know how I can tell I really like this sport? I'm willing to get up on the 19th at 3 a.m., leave the house at 4 a.m., drive along the Van Wyck Expressway and I-95 North for an hour to be in Norwalk, CT by 5:00-5:30 a.m., all for a race that I know good and well I won't win. And I'm willing to do it to just to be around the wonderful triathlon community. That to me is passion. We should all have something in our lives that moves us so much. Guess I'm lucky, because I've got about four means of motivation in my life: wife, baby, family, and now the tri.
Random Thoughts time:
*I'm still amazed at how tastefully done the MJ ceremony was. I really expected a media circus, and it turned out to be the complete opposite. The Jacksons, for once, looked like a family, not a bunch of personalities.
*I'm hearing that LeBron James got dunked on by a college player at his summer camp. To protect his image, he and the NIKE reps confiscated all videos of the game and subsequent dunk, making the moment something of urban legend. R. Kelly should've had that forsight...
*What's up with the celebrities passing away?!?! There's been about 5 in two weeks. Is someone trying to tell us something?
*If the mighy Lance Armstrong places anywhere in the top three of the Tour De France after his 4-year layoff, can we rank him as one of the top five athletes...of all time?
*Anybody want a dog? As I type this, my chihuahua/terrier mutt threw up on our brand new area rug. Needless to say, the Mrs. is LIVID. I can do so much for Lola, but she's on thin ice.
*"Family Guy" is much funnier now, as opposed to its earlier years when Stewie was trying to rule the world.
Friday, July 3, 2009
T.P. or not T.P. That is the question...
I've run in 3 duathlons and one (soon to be two) triathlon. Far from a veteran. However, there is one aspect of multi-sport competition that I've become an outright master in. Unfortunately, I had to learn the hard way that preparing for race day goes beyond the miles you've run or the laps you've swam. Race day is also a time to come prepared. Prepared with what, you might ask? I'll tell you: toilet paper. You read right-toilet paper. In my opinion, it's an absolute must to include on your checklist.
As with virtually all athletes, the closer you get to your starting time on race day, the more you get a feeling in your stomach that you cannot ignore. It's only a case of the nerves, but those nerves seem to have a way of making you feel VERY uncomfortable. The next thing you know, you're looking for the nearest Port-O-Potty with hopes of settling yourself down. If you've ever been inside one of these, there is nothing fun about the experience: they stink, they look and feel unsanitary, and depending on the time of day you use it, they can be unbearably warm. Now, imagine having no alternative but to use one on race day, only to find out that you have nothing to clean yourself with.
But you've gotta love the culture within multi-sport. You can tell whose been through the ringer a time or three. My first race was the March Madness Duathlon in April 2007. I was lucky enough to have access to a real bathroom. As I got closer to the men's room, I noticed there were two lines, one noticeably shorter than the other. Then I saw a guy asking the men on both lines, "What are you, a 1 or a 2?" Confused was an understatement to describe my mind set. As I watched the competitors go in and out, I noticed some people zipping through within seconds, whereas others took a few minutes. "Aaaaaaah", It hit me: 1's had to make the quick pit stop, 2's had to drop the kids off by the pool. I was lucky enough to be on the right line, but when I got to the stall, I realized I had the wrong tools. Oh, there was t.p. alright. But who wants to take care of themselves with wet, mushy, t.p?
But alas, the community: always willing to help random strangers out. I heard someone ask if anyone needed some paper, and from my stall, hand shooting over the top space, I screamed out, "Right here! RIGHT HERE!!" He found me, I got a fresh roll, and all was right with the world.
So please, rookies, as you go over your list and your race plan, don't forget the toilet paper. Should you get the rumbling in your belly on race day, and you're stuck without the necessities, you have two options: 1) go on with your race and that bad feeling (I've done that, too. Not good) or 2) well, you can imagine what your second option is.
Some random thoughts from the world as I see it:
*The Lakers signed Ron Artest. The Cavs traded for Shaq. The Magic traded for Vince Carter. My favorite team, the Spurs, traded for Richard Jefferson. The Knicks got...Darco Milicic. Fill in your own joke.
*Funny how it took mainstream media less than a week to get over praising MJ, only to make his life a circus all over again. Joe Jackson didn't help matters with his announcement of a record label two days after his son died. Hey Joe, no one important wants to be a part of "Get a Switch" records. You beat people, remember?
*I used to take my wife to Yankee games. That had to stop when she would read her gossip mags in the middle of an inning, paying no attention to what was going on-unless Jeter or A-Roid were at bat. The last thing I needed was a foul ball cracking the Mrs. upside the head.
*If you're running for political office, you should not be married. All politicians should be single. That way, you can get your freak on and not damage "the integrity of your office or our country".
*I've got to get myself to a theater. I'm hearing great things about "The Hangover".
The plan is to get some swimming in today. I would love to get some open water swimming in, but I'll settle for a pool. I have 16 days until the Mossman Sprint Tri in Norwalk, CT. Until next time...
Soul Brother No. 2
As with virtually all athletes, the closer you get to your starting time on race day, the more you get a feeling in your stomach that you cannot ignore. It's only a case of the nerves, but those nerves seem to have a way of making you feel VERY uncomfortable. The next thing you know, you're looking for the nearest Port-O-Potty with hopes of settling yourself down. If you've ever been inside one of these, there is nothing fun about the experience: they stink, they look and feel unsanitary, and depending on the time of day you use it, they can be unbearably warm. Now, imagine having no alternative but to use one on race day, only to find out that you have nothing to clean yourself with.
But you've gotta love the culture within multi-sport. You can tell whose been through the ringer a time or three. My first race was the March Madness Duathlon in April 2007. I was lucky enough to have access to a real bathroom. As I got closer to the men's room, I noticed there were two lines, one noticeably shorter than the other. Then I saw a guy asking the men on both lines, "What are you, a 1 or a 2?" Confused was an understatement to describe my mind set. As I watched the competitors go in and out, I noticed some people zipping through within seconds, whereas others took a few minutes. "Aaaaaaah", It hit me: 1's had to make the quick pit stop, 2's had to drop the kids off by the pool. I was lucky enough to be on the right line, but when I got to the stall, I realized I had the wrong tools. Oh, there was t.p. alright. But who wants to take care of themselves with wet, mushy, t.p?
But alas, the community: always willing to help random strangers out. I heard someone ask if anyone needed some paper, and from my stall, hand shooting over the top space, I screamed out, "Right here! RIGHT HERE!!" He found me, I got a fresh roll, and all was right with the world.
So please, rookies, as you go over your list and your race plan, don't forget the toilet paper. Should you get the rumbling in your belly on race day, and you're stuck without the necessities, you have two options: 1) go on with your race and that bad feeling (I've done that, too. Not good) or 2) well, you can imagine what your second option is.
Some random thoughts from the world as I see it:
*The Lakers signed Ron Artest. The Cavs traded for Shaq. The Magic traded for Vince Carter. My favorite team, the Spurs, traded for Richard Jefferson. The Knicks got...Darco Milicic. Fill in your own joke.
*Funny how it took mainstream media less than a week to get over praising MJ, only to make his life a circus all over again. Joe Jackson didn't help matters with his announcement of a record label two days after his son died. Hey Joe, no one important wants to be a part of "Get a Switch" records. You beat people, remember?
*I used to take my wife to Yankee games. That had to stop when she would read her gossip mags in the middle of an inning, paying no attention to what was going on-unless Jeter or A-Roid were at bat. The last thing I needed was a foul ball cracking the Mrs. upside the head.
*If you're running for political office, you should not be married. All politicians should be single. That way, you can get your freak on and not damage "the integrity of your office or our country".
*I've got to get myself to a theater. I'm hearing great things about "The Hangover".
The plan is to get some swimming in today. I would love to get some open water swimming in, but I'll settle for a pool. I have 16 days until the Mossman Sprint Tri in Norwalk, CT. Until next time...
Soul Brother No. 2
Monday, June 29, 2009
Welcome to my World
For those of you who don't know me, I'd like to take this opportunity to introduce myself. My name is Lamar Hughes. I was born and reared in the South Bronx of New York City. I still call New York home, however my roots are now based in the borough of Queens. My professional occupation is that of an Elementary schoolteacher. You will come to learn other aspects of my personal life as we continue along this journey. For now, though, it's probably best for you to know that this-and future blogs-will be devoted to the training, following and competing of my newest recreational activity: triathlon. As of now, my "experience" consists of three duathlons and one Olympic distance tri; one I might add that while memorable, was the most stressful and strenuous physical activity I have ever experienced. Never have I been forced to push myself beyond my capabilities. There were countless moments where I cursed myself for thinking that I could pull of a challenge like this. But not too many feelings compared to the one I had when I crossed the finish line that Texas morning.
Aside from detailing my training regimen and updating you on future events in and around the triathlon world, my other purpose for creating this blog is to serve as a testament to those who want to get involved in this sport that 1) it is 87 different ways of fun, 2) anyone, and I do mean anyone, can take part in a triathlon. The only size that matters is that of your heart. Before I started training, I couldn't swim. This isn't to say that I'm able to go stroke-for-stroke with Michael Phelps, but believe me, my awareness and comfort in open and lap water grew tremendously over an eight-month span. I believe that there should be as many sites and blogs dedicated to first-time triathletes. There are so many things to keep mind of, that hearing or reading them all from a veteran could be overwhelming (it was for me).
My goal is to be that voice for the beginner triathlete and address topics that people tend to overlook. I know how it feels, for example, to finish last in a practice run. I know how it feels to walk in with a less-than-cool bike while your counterparts fly out the gate with some state-of-the-art tianium machine. And I certainly know how it feels to have lifeguards swim along with you during an actual race because you look an absolute mess on your own. But, I know how it feels to cross that finish line, knowing that I accomplished something that approximately 90% of the U.S. population hasn't and no one in my immediate circle of friends and family have even attempted.
Thank you all in advance for taking a few minutes to look at life through my lenses. As I mentioned before, I hope my experiences will serve as motivation for others to get involved in this great sport. My inspiration was a friend who suffered from severe asthma as a child, yet went on to compete in 3 marathons as an adult (he also thinks Usher is the second-greatest entertainer of all time, that's a different blog for a different day).
For the record, I'm in training for my 2nd race: the Mossman Sprint Triathlon in Norwalk, CT on July 19th. I'll keep you posted.
Aside from detailing my training regimen and updating you on future events in and around the triathlon world, my other purpose for creating this blog is to serve as a testament to those who want to get involved in this sport that 1) it is 87 different ways of fun, 2) anyone, and I do mean anyone, can take part in a triathlon. The only size that matters is that of your heart. Before I started training, I couldn't swim. This isn't to say that I'm able to go stroke-for-stroke with Michael Phelps, but believe me, my awareness and comfort in open and lap water grew tremendously over an eight-month span. I believe that there should be as many sites and blogs dedicated to first-time triathletes. There are so many things to keep mind of, that hearing or reading them all from a veteran could be overwhelming (it was for me).
My goal is to be that voice for the beginner triathlete and address topics that people tend to overlook. I know how it feels, for example, to finish last in a practice run. I know how it feels to walk in with a less-than-cool bike while your counterparts fly out the gate with some state-of-the-art tianium machine. And I certainly know how it feels to have lifeguards swim along with you during an actual race because you look an absolute mess on your own. But, I know how it feels to cross that finish line, knowing that I accomplished something that approximately 90% of the U.S. population hasn't and no one in my immediate circle of friends and family have even attempted.
Thank you all in advance for taking a few minutes to look at life through my lenses. As I mentioned before, I hope my experiences will serve as motivation for others to get involved in this great sport. My inspiration was a friend who suffered from severe asthma as a child, yet went on to compete in 3 marathons as an adult (he also thinks Usher is the second-greatest entertainer of all time, that's a different blog for a different day).
For the record, I'm in training for my 2nd race: the Mossman Sprint Triathlon in Norwalk, CT on July 19th. I'll keep you posted.
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